Danielle Steel - Summer’s End

“I’ll spend a lot of time in bed today.” At least that much was the truth.

“All right.” But he was sleeping again by the time she was dressed and he didn’t see her go. She left him a note: She had gone out and would be back in the afternoon. He might be annoyed, but he would never know, and when she came home it would be too late. As she got into her car and started the motor, she looked down at her sandals and jeans. She had last worn them in Carmel with Ben. As she waited for the car to warm up, she found herself thinking of him again and looking up at the pale morning sky. The last time she had seen a sky like that, it had been with him. Then for no reason at all she remembered what the doctor had asked her: What if the baby were Ben’s? But it couldn’t be, how could it? Two months before, she had made love with Marc. But she had also met Ben at the end of June, it could have been his too. Why couldn’t she be certain? Why couldn’t she be only one month pregnant instead of two? “Damn.” She said the word aloud as she put her foot on the gas and backed out into the street. But what if it were his child? Would she still want the abortion? She suddenly wanted to talk to him, to tell him, to ask him what he thought, but that was insane. She drove straight to the address, her mind beginning to swim.

She looked pale and drawn when she got there. Dr. Jones was already waiting. He was quiet and gentle, as always, and he touched Deanna’s arm.

“You’re sure?” he asked. She nodded, but there was something he didn’t like in her eyes. “Let’s go talk.”

“No. Let’s just do it.”

“All right.” He gave instructions to the nurse, and Deanna was led to a small room where she was told to change into a hospital gown.

“Where will they take me?”

“Down the hall. You’ll be gone all day. You won’t be back here all day.” Suddenly for the first time she felt frightened. What if it hurt? If she died? If she hemorrhaged on the way home? If… The nurse proceeded to explain the suction technique to Deanna, and she felt herself grow pale.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.” It was all Deanna could think to say. She suddenly, desperately, wanted Ben.

“Are you afraid?” The nurse tried to look gentle but didn’t succeed.

“A little.”

“Don’t be. It’s nothing. I’ve had three.” Jesus, Deanna thought. How wonderful. At a discount?

Deanna sat in her little room, waiting. At last she was led down the hall and then put in a room, where they positioned her on a sterile table, her feet strapped into the stirrups. It was like the delivery rooms she’d been in when she’d had those two baby boys, and then finally Pilar. A delivery room-not an abortion room. She felt herself break into a sweat. They left her alone for almost half an hour. She lay there, with her feet up, fighting the urge to cry and reminding herself that it would be over soon. Over. Gone. They’d pull it out of her with that machine. She looked around her, wondering which piece of ominous-looking machinery was The One, but they all looked equally terrifying. She felt her legs start to shake. It seemed hours before Dr. Jones came into the room, and she felt herself jump.

“Deanna, we’re going to give you a shot to make you a little woozy, and a little more at ease.”

“I don’t want it.” She tried to sit bolt upright, and struggled with her legs in the air.

“The shot? But it will be a great deal easier for you if you take it. Believe me. It’s a lot harder like this.” He looked immensely sympathetic, but she shook her head.

“I don’t want it. Not the shot. The abortion. I can’t. What if the baby is Ben’s?” The thought had gnawed at her for the last hour, or was that only an excuse to keep it? She wasn’t sure.

“Are you certain, Deanna? Or are you just afraid?”

“Both. Everything… I don’t know.” Tears filled her eyes.

“What if the baby were just yours and no one else’s? If there were no man involved. If you could just have the baby to yourself. Would you want it then?”

She raised her eyes to his and silently nodded.

He undid her legs. “Then go home, love, and work things out. You can have that baby all by yourself, if that’s what you want. No one can take it away from you. It’ll be all yours.”

She found herself smiling at the thought.

Marc was in the shower when she got home, and she quietly went up to her studio and locked the door. What had she done? She had decided to keep the baby, and what the doctor had said was true. She could have the baby alone and just make it hers. She could, couldn’t she? Or would the baby always be Marc’s? Just as Pilar had been. Suddenly she knew she would never escape. The baby was Marc’s. She didn’t yet have the courage to have it alone. And what did it matter? She had already lost Ben.

“Good morning, Deanna.” Marc glanced at her as he settled himself in his chair. The usual assortment of newspapers was properly displayed, the coffee was hot, and Deanna was eating an egg. “Hungry this morning?” It had been weeks since he’d seen her eat.

“Not very. Here, you can have my toast.” She pushed the lacy, blue Limoges plate toward him on the table. The tablecloth that morning was also a delicate pale blue. It matched her mood.

Marc looked at her carefully as she played with her egg. “Are you still feeling ill?” She shrugged, then after a moment looked up.

“No.”

“I think perhaps you ought to call the doctor.”

“I’m seeing him anyway next week.” It had been three weeks since she’d seen him last. Three weeks since she’d run away the morning she could have had the abortion. Three weeks since she’d seen Ben. And there had been no news. She knew there wouldn’t be again. She’d run into him some day, somewhere, some place, and they’d chat for a moment like old friends. And that would be all. It was over. No matter how much either of them cared. She felt her whole body sag at the thought. The only thing she wanted to do was go back to bed.

“What are you doing today?” Marc looked vague but concerned.

“Nothing. I’ll probably work in the studio for a while.” But she wasn’t working. She was just sitting, staring at the mountain of paintings that had been sent back from the gallery, despite Ben’s initial protests. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let him sell her work and not see him at all. And she didn’t want him to see her pregnant that winter. She had had no choice. She had insisted to Sally that they be returned. Now they leaned against the walls of her studio, bleakly faced away, their mud-colored canvas backs staring at her blindly, except for the one portrait of her and Pilar, which she looked at for hours every day.

“Would you like to join me somewhere for lunch?” She heard the words as she walked away and turned to see him in his seat in the dining room, looking like a king. He was her king now, and she was his slave, all because of this unborn child that she was too cowardly to abort.

Again she shook her head. “No, thank you.” She attempted a smile, but it was barely a ray of sunshine in winter, less than a glimmer on the snow. She didn’t want to go to lunch with him. She didn’t want to be with him, or be seen with him. What if Ben saw them together? She couldn’t bear the thought. She only shook her head once more and walked softly to the little studio, where she hid.

She sat huddled there, clutching her knees, with tears pouring down her face. It seemed hours later when she heard the phone.

“Hi, kiddo, what are you up to?” It was Kim. Deanna sighed to herself and tried to dredge up a smile.

“Not much. I’m sitting here in my studio, thinking I ought to retire.”

“Like hell. Not after the beautiful reviews for that show you had. How’s Ben? Has he sold any more of your work?”

“No.” Deanna tried not to let her voice betray what she felt. “He-he hasn’t really had the chance.”

“I guess not. But I’m sure that when he gets back from London, he will. Sally says he’ll be there for another week.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. Marc got home three weeks ago, and we’ve been awfully busy.” Kimberly found that hard to believe; with the recent death of Pilar she knew that they weren’t going anywhere. At least that was what Deanna had told her the last time they spoke.

“Can I lure you away from your studio for lunch?”

“No, I… really… I can’t.”

Suddenly Kim didn’t like what she heard. She heard a tremor of pain in Deanna’s voice that frightened her, it was so raw. “Deanna?” But there was no answer; she had begun to cry. “Can I come by now?”

She was going to tell her no, she wanted to stop her, didn’t want her to see, but she didn’t have the strength.

“Deanna, did you hear me? I’m coming over. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

* * *

Deanna heard Kim on the studio steps before she could come downstairs. She didn’t want her to see the rows of paintings lined up against the walls, but it was already too late. Kim knocked once and stepped inside, looking around in astonishment, not understanding what she saw. There must have been twenty or thirty paintings lined up against the walls.

“What is all this stuff?” She knew it couldn’t be new work. As she pulled the paintings free of the others that hid them and saw familiar themes, she turned to Deanna with surprise in her eyes. “You’ve withdrawn from the gallery?” she asked. Deanna nodded. “But why? They did a beautiful show for you, the reviews were good. The last time I talked to Ben, he told me he’d sold almost half your canvases. Why?” And then she understood. “Because of Marc?”

Deanna sighed and sat down. “I just had to withdraw.”

Kim sat down across from her, concern furrowing her brow. Deanna looked godawful, wan and pale and drawn, but worse than that there was something tragic stamped in her eyes. “Deanna, I-I know how you must feel about Pilar. Or really I don’t know, but I can imagine. But you can’t destroy your whole life. Your career has to be separate from everything else.”

“But it isn’t. Because-because of Ben.” The words were muffled by her hands and her tears.

Kim moved closer to Deanna and took her firmly in her arms. “Just let yourself go.”

Without knowing why, Deanna did. She cried in Kim’s arms for what felt like days, for the loss of Pilar, of Ben, and maybe even Marc. She knew she had lost him to his mistress. The only thing she had not lost was the baby that she didn’t want. Kim said nothing to her, but let her spend her sorrow in her arms. It seemed hours before the sobs finally stopped, and Deanna looked up into Kim’s face.

“Oh, Kim, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just…”

“For chrissake, don’t apologize. You can’t hold it all inside. You really can’t. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

She shook her head but then brightened a little. “Maybe a cup of tea.” Kim picked up the phone and rang the kitchen.

“And maybe afterward we could go for a walk. How does that sound?”

“What about you? Did you give up your job, or just take the day off to play shrink to me?” Deanna smiled through her red, watering eyes.

“Hell, if you can withdraw from the gallery, maybe I should just quit. It makes about as much sense.”

“No, you’re wrong. I was right to do what I did.”

“But why? I just don’t understand.”

Deanna was about to tell her something to put her off. Instead, she simply looked at Kim. “I don’t want to see Ben anymore.”

“You’ve ended it with Ben?”

For a long moment everything stopped in the room as the two women looked into each other’s eyes. Deanna nodded.

“You’re going to stay with Marc?”

“I have to.”

She sighed and brought in the tray Margaret had left outside the door. She handed Kim her coffee and sat down with her tea, taking a tentative sip before she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and finally spoke again. “Marc and I are having a child.”

“What? Are you kidding?”

Deanna opened her eyes again. “I wish I were. I found out when I was in France. I passed out in some country church a few days after the funeral, and Marc insisted on taking me to the local hospital. He thought I had something terminal, but we were both so hysterical at that point, who knew? All they found out was that I was two months pregnant.”

“That makes you how pregnant now?”

“Exactly three.”

“You don’t look it.” Still looking shocked, Kim lowered her gaze to Deanna’s still totally flat stomach zipped into jeans.

“I know I don’t look it. I guess I’m just small this time, and I’ve been so nervous that I’ve been losing a lot of weight.”

“Jesus. Does Ben know?”

Deanna shook her head. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that. I was thinking of-of having it… aborted. And I tried. I had it all set up, but when they got me on the table I just couldn’t. Not with two dead babies, and now Pilar. No matter how much I don’t want this child, I just can’t.”