Danielle Steel - Summer’s End

“And Marc?”

“He’s ecstatic. He’ll finally get his son. Or a replacement for Pilar.”

“And you, Deanna?” Her voice was painfully soft.

“What do I get? Not much. I lose the one man I truly love, I get locked into a marriage that I’ve discovered has been dead for years, I have another baby who may or may not live-and if it does, it will be Marc’s and he’ll turn it against me again, make it two thousand percent French. God knows, Kim, I’ve been through it. But what are my choices, what can I do?”

“You could have it alone, if you want the kid. Ben might even want it, even if it isn’t his.”

“Marc would never let me go. He’ll do everything in his power to stop me.” It seemed a nebulous threat but she looked terrified by her own words. Kim watched the pain in her friend’s eyes.

“But what could he do?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. I feel as though I could never get away. If I tried to make it on my own, he’d do everything he could to stop me. And somehow he shakes my self-confidence, he convinces me that I can’t.”

“Tell me something, Deanna.” Kim looked at her long and hard. “Are you painting these days?”

Deanna shook her head. “What’s the point? I can’t show.” She gave a small useless shrug.

“You didn’t show for twenty years and you painted anyway. Why did you stop now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because Marc told you to? Because he thinks it’s foolish, because he makes you and your artwork seem very small?” Kim’s eyes were blazing now.

“I don’t know, maybe… He just makes everything seem so trivial and pointless.”

“And Ben?”

Deanna’s voice was suddenly very soft, and there was that light in her eyes again, the one Kim had so rarely seen. “It’s very different with Ben.”

“Don’t you think he could love that baby?”

“I don’t know.” Deanna came back to reality and she looked long and hard at Kim. “I can’t ask him. Do you realize that I was pregnant with Marc’s child the whole time I was sleeping with him? Do you have any idea how outrageous that is?” Deanna looked for a moment as though she hated herself.

“Don’t be so goddamn uptight for chrissake. You didn’t know you were pregnant. Did you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“You see? For God’s sake, Deanna, it might even be Ben’s!”

But Deanna was shaking her head. “No. There’s a discrepancy of a month.”

“Could they have made a mistake? You ought to know.”

“Yes, I should, but it’s a little hard to tell. I’m irregular. That makes things very confusing. I have to rely on their theories, not mine. And they say I got pregnant in mid- to late June. It could still be Ben’s… but it’s not very likely.”

Kim sat silently for a long time, watching her friend, before she asked the one question that seemed to matter to her. The rest really did not. “Deanna, do you want the baby? I mean, if none of this existed, if they both fell off the face of the earth, and there was just you, would you want this kid? Think about it for a second before you answer.”

But she didn’t have to. Dr. Jones had asked her the same thing. She looked up at Kim with a small tender light in her eyes. “The answer is yes. Yes, I’d want it. I’d want it to be my baby. Mine.” She looked away with tears in her eyes. “And I could always tell myself it was Ben’s.”

Kim sighed and put down her cup. “Then for God’s sake, Deanna, have it. Enjoy it. Love it. Be with it. Thrive with it… but have it alone. Leave Marc, so at least you can enjoy this child.”

“I can’t. I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

She hung her head as though in shame. “The bitch of it is that I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, Kim. I don’t like the layouts, and the whole look just isn’t polished enough.” Ben ran a hand through his hair and stared absently at the far wall. He had been impossible to deal with all morning, and Kim knew what was distracting him as she watched him.

“Maybe if you’d gotten some sleep last night after your flight from London you’d like them a little better.” She tried to tease, but it was useless. He actually looked worse than Deanna had, and that wasn’t easy.

“Don’t be a smartass. You know the look I want.”

“All right. We’ll try again. Will you be here long enough to check them out in a couple of weeks, or are you running off again?” He had been doing a lot of that lately.

“I’m leaving for Paris next Tuesday. But I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I have to do something about my house.”

“You’re redoing it?”

“I’m moving.”

“How come? I thought you liked it.” Over the months that Kim had been handling the account, they had become friends. And his relationship with Deanna had forged an extra bond between them.

“I can’t stand the place anymore.” Suddenly she found his eyes boring into hers. “Have you seen her?” Silently Kim nodded. “How is she?”

“All right.” Heartbroken, lousy, like you are.

“Good. I wish I could say the same. Kim, I-I don’t know how to say it. I’m going nuts. I can’t stand it. I’ve never felt like this. Not even when my wife left me. But it just doesn’t make any sense. We had everything going for us. And I promised her… I promised that it would be just for the summer, that I wouldn’t pressure her. But, Jesus, Kim, she’s burying herself with that man. I don’t think he even loves her.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve never thought so either.”

“It’s not. She still decided to stay with him, no matter what you or I think. Is she happy? Is she painting?”

Kim wanted to lie to him, but she couldn’t. “No. Neither one.”

“Then why? Because of Pilar? It just doesn’t make any sense to me. She could have asked me to wait, I would have. She could have stayed with him a while. I wouldn’t have pushed her. What hold can he possibly have on her?”

“Relationships are funny that way. It’s hard for outsiders to see that. I’ve known people who hated each other and stayed married for fifty years.”

“Sounds delightful.” But as he spoke to her, his face looked grim. “I’d call her, but I don’t think I should.”

“What about you, Ben? How are you doing?” Her voice was painfully gentle.

“I’m keeping busy. I don’t have any choice. She didn’t leave me any choice.”

She wanted to tell him that he’d get over it, but it seemed cruel to her to say something like that. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Yeah. Help me kidnap her.” He looked away again. “You know, I can’t even stand looking at my Wyeth anymore, it looks so much like her.” He sighed and stood up, as though to get away from his own thoughts. “I don’t know what to do, Kim. I don’t know what the hell to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do. I wish I could help.”

“So do I. But you can’t. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

Kim put the ads for the gallery back in her briefcase and replaced it on the floor. It was agonizing to see him like that.

“You know, I find myself wishing I’d run into her. Every restaurant I go to, every store, even the post office, I find myself searching… as though if I look hard enough, I’ll see her face.”

“She doesn’t go out much these days.”

“Is she all right? She’s not sick, is she?” Dumbly Kim shook her head, and he went on, “I suppose the only solution is to keep moving, traveling, running.”

“You can’t do that forever.” She stood up and followed him to the door, as his eyes looked at her sadly from behind his private prison walls.

“I can try.”

“What did the doctor say today?” Deanna was already in bed when Marc got home. “Everything fine?”

“He said for four months I’m awfully small, but he assumes it’s just nerves and the weight I’ve lost. He wants me back in two weeks this time though, to make sure he can hear the baby’s heart. He’s still too little to hear, and Jones said he should have heard him today. Maybe in another two weeks.” But Marc didn’t look worried at any of the news. “How was your day?”

“Excessively tiresome. But we got a new case.” He looked pleased.

“Where?”

“In Amsterdam. But I’ll share it with Jim Sullivan.” He looked down at her with a smile. “I told you I wouldn’t be going away all the time. Have I been true to my word?”

“Absolutely.” This time she smiled too. He had been home for two months, and he hadn’t stirred. Not so much as a weekend trip to Paris. Not that it really mattered now. In some ways she’d have been relieved, but he had told her that it was over with that girl. “There’s no reason for you not to take the case though. When will it go to court?”

“Probably not till June. Well after the baby comes.”

The baby. It still didn’t seem real. Not to her. Only to Marc.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m going downstairs for a snack.” He looked back at her from the doorway, again with that tender smile. All he could think of now was their child, and her well-being, as it related to their son. Sometimes it touched her, most of the time it annoyed her. She knew it had nothing to do with her. It had to do with the baby. With his Heir.

“What are you going to eat, pickles and ice cream?”

“What would you prefer, Deanna? Caviar and champagne? That can be arranged too.”

“A few crackers will be fine.”

“Most unexciting. I hope the baby has better taste.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He was back a few minutes later, with crackers for her and a sandwich for himself.

“No strawberries, no pizza, no tacos?”

It was the first time he had seen her sense of humor in months. But she had had a pleasant day. After her visit to the doctor, she had gone to lunch with Kim. Kim was helping her to keep her sanity, in these strange, lonely days. And Deanna could tell her how much she missed Ben. She was still waiting for the hurt of that to stop. So far, though, it had shown no sign of abating.

Marc was about to offer her a bite of his sandwich, when the phone next to her rang. “Want me to get it? It’s probably for you.”

“At this hour?” He looked at his watch, then nodded. It was eight in the morning in Europe. It was very probably for him. He sat down on the bed again, next to his wife. He hadn’t seen her this friendly in weeks. He smiled at her once more and picked up the phone. “Hello?” There was the usual whir of lines from overseas, and he waited to hear which of his clients was in dire need.

“Marc-Edouard?” It was a voice frantic with desperation, and he felt himself grow suddenly pale. Chantal. Deanna saw his back stiffen slightly, and he turned away from her with a frown.

“Yes? What is it?” He had spoken to her only that morning. Why was she calling him at home? He had already promised her that he would be back in Europe within the next few weeks. He was sure he could get away from Deanna just after Thanksgiving. By then, he would have paid his dues. Two and a half months at her side, in the States. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” She let out a long strangled sob, and he felt fear flit through his heart. “I’m-I’m in the hospital again.”

“Ah, merde.” He closed his eyes, and Deanna watched him frown. “Why this time? The same thing?”

“No. I got my insulin mixed up.”

“You never mix it up.” Except on purpose, he thought, remembering the night in the hospital and the panic he’d felt. “After all these years, surely you must know…” Shit. It was so awkward sitting there, talking to her, with Deanna looking on. “But you’re all right?”

“I don’t know.” And then after a pause, “Oh, Marc-Edouard, I need you. Can’t you please come home?” Damn. How could he discuss it with her here?

“I don’t have the right papers here to apprise you of that situation. Can we discuss it tomorrow from my office?” He picked up the phone and walked across the room to a chair. Deanna had gone back to reading her book. The conversation sounded dull, and Marc looked annoyed.

But Marc was finding the exchange anything but dull. Chantal had given a small shriek at his suggestion of discussing it from his office the next day.

“No! You can’t keep putting me off!”

“I’m not putting you off. I simply don’t know when I can.”

“Then let me come to you. You promised before you left that if you couldn’t get away, I could come there. Why can’t I?”

“I’ll have to discuss it with you tomorrow, when I have the files. Can you wait ten hours and I’ll call you back?” There was steel in his voice now. “Where can I reach you?” She gave him the name of a private clinic, and he was grateful that this time at least she was not at the American Hospital, he couldn’t have borne having to call her there. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I reach the office.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just get on the next plane.”