by Sandra Brown
“Yes, Seth. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” She was just about to hang up when she heard his voice again. “Kathleen?”
“Yes?”
“You know that if you ever want anything, all you need do is ask. I’m your friend.”
So simple. No questions. No strings attached. No qualifications. Unconditional friendship. Love. Her throat tightened painfully. “Thank you for that, Seth. Goodbye.” She replaced the telephone before the tears that had gathered in her eyes could burst free.
* * *
After the blood was drawn and the X ray taken and she had filled out the necessary forms, Kathleen was told to go home to bed and to report to the reception desk at six-thirty the next morning.
She followed the instructions but was unable to fall asleep, no matter how exhausted she was. In her mind’s eye, she could see the instruments that Dr. Peters would use on her to rid her of the “products of conception.” Not “the baby.” Not even “the fetus.” The products of conception.
Her limbs felt like lead but her head seemed too light to hold onto her pillow as she tossed and turned through the night. Her brain refused to release her from consciousness. It forced her to remember, to speculate, and to fear.
Long ago, she had vowed that before having children, she would be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that her mate was her mate for life. She knew the pain of growing up without parents and had promised her as-yet-unconceived children that they would never have less than two parents, a real home, a complete family unit. If she were to call off the abortion and decide to have the baby alone, she would be breaking her promise, robbing her child of a parent. No. Never.
What would Erik think if he knew that she was carrying his baby? Would he even want to know? Would his reaction be one of anger at her for not being mature or responsible enough to take birth-control precautions? Would he feel pity and offer to help her by absorbing half of the financial burden? God! She couldn’t have stood that.
Or would his reaction be quite different? Would his blue eyes fill with that warmth that she had read in them as he looked at her body and caressed it lazily, exploring it with inquisitive hands while his eyes worshiped it with appreciation?
Would he kneel before her, cupping her hips with his strong hands, drawing her to him and pressing his face against her abdomen in silent communication with his baby? Would his lips plant thankful kisses into her skin while he nuzzled her? Would he glory in the maternal fullness of her breasts?
No! No! Why was she torturing herself this way? A baby might mean nothing special to him. He might already have one. For all she knew, he and his wife might have an entire family of little Gudjonsens that meant no more to Erik than fidelity did.
Kathleen tried to blot out the euphoric fantasy, but it wouldn’t go away. Rather, it expanded. She saw herself being wheeled down a hospital corridor toward the delivery room with an anxious Erik striding beside the gurney, clasping her hand and declaring his love.
Then they were standing at the nursery window, looking down in adoration at their son. Son? Yes. Erik would have to have a son.
Then they were walking down a tree-shaded lane, each holding the hand of their sturdy toddler. He had blond hair, slightly waved and defying control. His eyes were a piercing blue. Just like his father’s…
* * *
Kathleen was still awake when the alarm went off beside her convertible sofa. She pulled herself up with tremendous effort. The only good thing about this morning was that it spelled the end of the hellish night she had spent, and at the end of this day, her ordeal would be over. She would be rid of the last remnant of Erik and could begin to live her life again.
At least that’s what Kathleen told herself as she went through the routine steps of dressing. Without conscious thought, she drove herself to the hospital, parked the car and checked in at the reception desk. She was directed to the third floor, where she checked in at another desk.
“I’m Kathleen Haley,” said the automatic voice that Kathleen didn’t recognize as her own.
“Good morning, Ms. Haley. Come right this way.”
She followed the nurse, sickeningly fresh and pert for this hour of the morning, down the hallway to a room with six beds in it. Only two other patients were already there.
The nurse slipped a clear plastic identification bracelet on Kathleen’s arm. “Undress in there and put your personal belongings in the locker. There is a hospital gown in there for you. Be sure to take off your jewelry. And use the commode if you have to. I’ll be back to start your IV.”
She was gone and Kathleen was left alone with the other women in the cold room. One was younger, seventeen at the most. Was she in here for the same reason Kathleen was? Her heart went out to the girl, but the worldly-wise, insolent eyes that met hers didn’t seem too upset. The other woman was older and weeping softly into a handkerchief. No doubt her D and C was therapeutic. Her abortion had been forced by nature. How awful.
Kathleen went into the bathroom and did as the nurse had told her to. I won’t think, she told herself. Don’t think about what you’re doing. Just do it and get it over with.
She climbed into the high hospital bed and lay back on the rock-hard pillow. In a few minutes, the nurse came in carrying a bottle and a tray.
Without speaking, she bathed the crook of Kathleen’s elbow with alcohol. Thankfully, it was the opposite arm from where they had drawn blood the night before.
She had always had an aversion to needles. As a child, she had been terrified of getting shots. As an adult, her fear wasn’t much different. She turned her head away and winced as the nurse sought a vein, and then, after finding it, jammed the needle in and taped it to her arm.
“What is this?” Kathleen asked timidly.
“A pre op,” the nurse said succinctly. “You’re scheduled for seven forty-five so just take it easy for a while.” Then she raised Kathleen’s hand before dropping it back to the bed impatiently. “You’ve got on nail polish. We can’t put you to sleep if you’ve got polish on your nails.”
“I’m sorry,” Kathleen apologized meekly. “No one told…”
Her voice trailed off. The nurse had already gone out the door.
* * *
One patient, the woman who had been crying, had been wheeled out. The other girl was chewing gum and flipping through a Rolling Stone magazine. Just when Kathleen was about to break the silence and ask the girl if she knew the time, the door opened and Dr. Peters came in.
He had on a green surgical suit. The mask had been untied from around his nose and hung on his chest. His hair was comically mussed, but his eyes were kind and bright.
“Ms. Haley,” he said softly as he took her hand. At least he hadn’t said “good morning.” He wasn’t that hypocritical.
“Hello, Dr. Peters.”
“Are you feeling well under the circumstances?”
“Yes. Hungry.”
He chuckled. “You can eat all you want tonight.”
“She took off my nail polish.” Kathleen was dismayed that her bottom lip was quivering. She thought she had suppressed all those emotions.
“That nurse who brought you in here?” Dr. Peters asked. When Kathleen nodded, he leaned over and whispered, “She’s a real bitch.” He coaxed a smile from the tremulous lips. “But it is required that you take off nail polish before surgery. Otherwise, if you shouldn’t be getting enough oxygen and your nails were to turn blue, we couldn’t see it.” Unnecessarily, he checked the IV. “Are you feeling drowsy?”
She wanted to answer “yes.” She begged her mind for oblivion, but she was wide awake and told him so.
“Well, we’ll get you under so you won’t feel any discomfort. I promise. Briefly, I want to go over the procedure with you, so you’ll know what’s happening.”
He hitched a hip to the side of her bed and partially leaned, partially sat on it. “First, we dilate the cervi
x. That’s the opening to your uterus.” She nodded. “Then, when you are dilated, I’ll insert a hollow tube into the cervix. It’s attached to a vacuum—”
“No,” she gasped, and reflexively gripped his hand. “No, please, don’t tell me.” Her breathing had accelerated to an alarming pace and she felt a blackness closing over her as though she might faint at any moment.
“Ms. Haley—”
“I don’t want to know. Just do it. When will it be finished?”
He covered her hand with his and patted it gently. “Not very long. You’ll probably wake up in a couple of hours, and then, when you feel it’s safe enough to drive, you can go home. I’ll try to get as much of the lining of your uterus as is safe, so you won’t have too much residual bleeding. But use napkins. No tampons until your next period.” He hesitated over the next question. “Would you like to discuss birth-control methods?”
Birth control? For what reason? A hysterical laugh almost escaped her lips. Maybe the IV was working after all. She suddenly felt giddy. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“I suggest using condoms. And not only for birth control.”
“Of course.” She couldn’t understand herself why she hadn’t taken commonsense precautions before, so she didn’t try to explain her carelessness to Dr. Peters.
“I’ll see you in the OR in, let’s see,” he checked his Japanese, stainless-steel wristwatch, “in about twenty minutes.”
Thirty-five minutes went by before the orderlies came in with the gurney and needlessly moved Kathleen onto it. She felt capable of getting up and walking around but knew that that was out of the question. Self-consciously, she glanced at the girl in the other bed.
She surprised Kathleen by speaking for the first time. “It’s no sweat. Really.”
Had she been through this before? Stunned, Kathleen could only murmur, “Thank you.” They pushed the gurney through the door.
The lights on the corridor ceiling rolled past her. They turned the corner and Kathleen gripped the edges of the gurney, dizzy, afraid that she was going to fall onto the floor. She was wheeled through two sets of double swinging doors, then left to rest in the pre op room.
A nurse checked the bracelet on her wrist. “Ms. Haley?”
“Yes.”
The nurse smiled. This one wasn’t so bitchy. Maybe she understood. “I’m going to give you a little more juice,” she said as she adjusted a clamp on the IV tube. The bottle had been moved with her. “You’ll be getting very sleepy soon.”
Indeed she did. Seemingly within a matter of seconds, the room began to tilt and images loomed largely close and then receded to the size they are when one looks into the wrong end of binoculars.
No discomfort. Dilate. The products of conception. Vacuum. Vacuum. Kathleen tried to move her hand protectively over her abdomen, but wasn’t sure she made it.
Not the products of conception. A person. A baby. Hers. Erik’s.
Erik. Erik. Erik, where are you? I loved you! I still love you. And they’re going to kill our baby. Why aren’t you here to protect me?
Why aren’t you here to see your son born? Your baby. But there will be no baby. A vacuum.
The nurse leaned over and said something to Kathleen, but she couldn’t hear her. She saw the ceiling moving again, and then she was in another room and the lights were extremely bright. Someone was draping her knees over the high stirrups at the end of the table. Her legs were so heavy. She flinched against the cold bath someone was giving her genitalia.
Dilate. No baby. Erik’s baby. She loved him. Would it be so wrong to want the results of that love? She could live with his deceit if only she could have something of value from their time together, something that would make the pain of loss more bearable. What could be a better testimony to the love she had borne the man than to have his baby? A baby would love her back.
A blond baby. A boy. She knew it was a boy. Blue eyes. Erik’s eyes. Erik’s baby.
Some disembodied voice was crooning to her and covering her nose and mouth with a mask. She couldn’t breathe. She refused to. She heard someone screaming over and over and realized it was she. “No!” She fought the restraining hands. “No, don’t touch me.”
“Dr. Peters,” an alarmed female voice said from beside Kathleen.
“Leave me alone. I love him. I want the baby. I’m not asleep. I’m not delirious. I’m awake and I want my baby.” Her panicked voice sounded maniacal to her own ears, but she had to convince them. In desperation, she repeated the words with all the force and conviction she could muster.
“Ms. Haley.”
She knew that voice and turned her thrashing head toward it. “Dr. Peters,” she gasped. How could she make them understand? They mustn’t take the baby. She tried to pull her knees together, but something kept them wide apart. “The baby, don’t hurt it. My baby. Erik’s. I love him. It’s a boy. I know it is. I want my baby. Erik… Erik…”
The dark oblivion that Kathleen had craved she now anathematized. Nonetheless, it blanketed her, black and absolute.
Chapter Eleven
Kathleen studied Seth as he tried to assimilate what she had just said to him. His features were devoid of expression, as though he were stunned.
“I can’t believe that I heard you correctly,” he said at last.
Kathleen wore a forced mask of poise. Little did she know how huge her green eyes looked. Nor did she realize that the severity of her hairdo, peeled away from her pale face, emphasized the sharpness of her cheekbones. It was obvious to everyone but herself how rigidly she held her body, how tense she was.
“Yes. You heard me correctly. I have to resign. I will, of course, stay for two weeks while you look for a replacement.”
“Damn the replacement!” Seth slapped his palms on the polished surface of his desk. It was the closest he had ever come to showing a temper. Never had she heard him raise his voice to that level. She squirmed under the prodding of his deep eyes. “Why, Kathleen? For godsake, why? I thought you liked us, liked your job here.”
Unable to look at him any longer, she turned her head toward the large picture windows that framed the skyline of the city. “I do. But as I understand my job description, I’m to be the buyer and fashion coordinator for your store, soon to be stores. As such, I should look the part of a high-fashion-minded individual, keep pace with trends.”
His dark brows arched over his eyes in puzzlement. “So?”
She turned her gaze from the foggy scenery and looked at him directly. “That’s not so easy if you’re pregnant.”
Again that blank, unwavering stare, as if what she had said was so incomprehensible that he couldn’t grasp it. His eyes fluttered down to her flat midsection. Then back to her face. “You’re telling me that you’re pregnant?”
She squared her shoulders. “Yes.”
It was mid-October. Two weeks had gone by since Kathleen had awakened in the hospital’s recovery room, frantically demanding to know if she still carried Erik’s baby. Dr. Peters had been there to reassure her.
“I want to have this baby.”
“Am I to understand that you’re a single parent?”
She nodded.
“You’ll do fine.” He patted her hand and Kathleen was grateful for his encouragement.
The last two weeks hadn’t been easy. She was still nauseated in the mornings and indigestive in the afternoons, but Dr. Peters had prescribed some tablets for her to take when she became too uncomfortable.
What pained her most was the mental anguish she was going through. She was again tempted to telephone Edna and tell her everything, but Kathleen refrained from doing that. The Harrisons would only worry about her more than they no doubt already were doing. So she would have to work out this untenable situation for herself. She would survive. Women, even single women, had babies all the time.
Seth would have to know immediately. His plans for expansion were in full force, and he was on the telephone every day to manufacturers in New Yo
rk, lining up appointments for Kathleen when she went on the buying trip scheduled for the end of the month. He had to be told, and yet, Kathleen dreaded that more than anything. She hated to let him down professionally, for she was aware of the faith he had placed in her abilities. Even more, she didn’t want to disappoint him as an individual whom he respected. The greatest hurt would be seeing the disillusionment in his eyes.
Now she had told him, but she didn’t read in his face any of the disgust that she had expected. Instead, his eyes seemed to shine with wonder and happiness. He wheeled around the corner of the desk, drew up beside her chair and took her hand in the security of his.
“I suppose congratulations are not in order.” It wasn’t a question and not intended to be flippant, but Kathleen laughed mirthlessly.
“Not exactly.” She gazed into the fathomless depths of his dark eyes and saw no censure there. She could be totally honest with this man and never fear ridicule. “I didn’t know when I took this job. I swear it. I almost had an abortion, but… but…” To her chagrin, tears began blurring her eyes. How much could one human being weep before running completely dry? She must be close, for it seemed she had cried endlessly during the last month.
“I’m certain that, for you, having the child is the right decision. Why didn’t you confide in me before now?”
“I was confused, uncertain what to do.”
“And now you know?”
She shook her head dismally. “No. I’m just trying to live one day at a time and keep my head above water.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him until her head rested against his chest. She cried quietly, the sobs shaking her body as he stroked her back with a conciliatory hand and murmured solicitous phrases in her ear. Finally, the flow of tears was stemmed and she sat up, accepting the handkerchief that he took from his breast pocket.
“The father?” he questioned her softly.
She considered lying and telling Seth that the father was dead, but she couldn’t. “It was a one-night stand. He was gone the next day.” His finger slipped under her chin and raised her face until she was forced to look at him.