Bridge to Haven (45 page)

“It is happening.”

“No. It can’t be. We’ve been too careful.” He downed his Scotch in one gulp.

“Not always.” She saw the narrowing coldness in his eyes, and rushed on. “Sometimes you were in too much of a hurry.” She watched the memory sink in.

Franklin swore and threw his glass against the wall. “Not after all my work!”

She flinched, but her own anger rose. All
his
work? How nice that he’d forgotten the pounding and hammering and chiseling she’d taken: the blistered and bloodied feet while learning to dance, the exhausting hours of running her lines with him, feeling exposed as a fraud every time the cameras rolled.

Three years of her life had gone into becoming the woman of his dreams. Three years of doing hard time in this godforsaken prison. Every minute of every hour planned by her master.

His eyes darkened. “You planned this, didn’t you, Abra?”

It was the first time she’d heard her name on his lips since the morning after he brought her to this apartment. It felt like a punch in the gut. His tone was glacial with suspicion, accusation. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Lena would never betray him. Abra had.

“I’ve done everything you asked since the night you brought me here, Franklin. I’ve worked hard to be what you want. I handed my life over to you.” Tears blurred her vision. “If you love me so much, why do you see this as a problem?”

He studied her face, his expression shuttered. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“I wanted to wait until I was sure.” She stepped forward, a hand out. “I—”

“Be quiet and let me think.” He stood abruptly and stepped away.

“What do you have to think about?” It was a done deal. There was no turning back. Or so she thought, until she saw the look in his eyes.

“You still have a movie to make. You can’t have a baby.”

She blinked. “I’m going to have a baby.”

“No, you’re not. You’re under contract.”

Whose contract did he mean?

He paced, one hand at the back of his neck. “It’s not the first time this has happened. I’ll make a few calls. Find a good doctor.”

“We have a doctor.”

“Not the kind we need.”

She felt a chill at the way he said it. What was going through his mind? “The schedule can be altered.”

“And cost the studio tens of thousands of dollars? Have you look like a prima donna? The other deal I’m working on would go right down the drain.”

“It wouldn’t be that big a change. They could shoot all my scenes in a few weeks, and then I could take whatever time off I need to have the baby.”

“You’re not having a baby, Lena.”

Why wouldn’t he listen to reason? “You can’t undo what’s been done. It’s our baby, Franklin.” Her stomach quivered. “Yours and mine.”

He erupted, face reddening as he shouted at her. “I told you I didn’t want more children! I told you how—”

“
I’m
your wife now. It won’t be that way!”

He wasn’t listening. He continued to pace, muttering under his breath. “Why do women always betray the ones who love them?”

The trembling started again, deep inside. “I haven’t betrayed you, Franklin. You said we’d talk about having children.”

“You talked.” He glared at her. “I said we’d
wait
!” He came at her, teeth bared, eyes wild. “You’re not ruining everything I’ve worked so hard to accomplish.”

She backed away from him and knocked over a stool. He stopped. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he went to the windows. He looked down Hollywood Boulevard. “If not for me, you’d be out
there working the street like a hundred other girls. And you know it! You owe me!”

She pulled on Lena, grasping the role tightly as she went to him. She spread her hands on his back, rubbing gently, hoping to soothe him. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see. There will just be three of us, instead of two.”

He stepped away from her and went back to the bar, pouring himself another Scotch. “Do you want to end up like Pamela Hudson? Three movies, a promising career, then step down off the pedestal to get married and have a baby. Who remembers her now? You’re on your way up, Lena. We have to keep the momentum going. Audiences are fickle! A year off and you’ll be forgotten.”

Her resolve slipped a notch. “I don’t care.” She turned away, staring out the windows, seeing nothing.

Franklin came to her. He turned her to face him. He touched her brow with gentle fingers. “I do care, Lena. I care enough for both of us. I need to make a few calls. Sort things out.” He tipped her chin, but didn’t kiss her. “You look tired. Why don’t you go to bed?”

She awakened some time later and heard Franklin talking in the office. She got up and went down the hall. He held the receiver to his ear while he bent and wrote notes on a pad. He said a brief thanks and hung up.

Good. Franklin must have called the director. The sooner he knew the situation, the sooner he could make up a new schedule, rearrange scenes to shoot. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s all taken care of. You don’t have to worry about a thing. You’re doing your most important scene on Thursday. We’ll see the doctor on Friday.”

Relieved, Abra came into his office and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging herself against him. “Thank you.” Her voice came out choked and hoarse with relief. “I was so scared, Franklin. Everything is going to be so much better now. I just know it is.”

He rubbed her back. “Everything will be fine. Trust me.” His thumb stroked her temple. “You won’t have to be back on set until Tuesday next week.”

On the way to the set the next morning, Franklin told her not to mention the pregnancy, not to anyone. She didn’t understand why not. He’d told the director. Why should they keep it secret? Franklin stared at the road ahead. “No director wants needless distractions on the set. Keep this quiet.” He gave her a hard look. “Keep your focus.”

The makeup artist dabbed foundation. “You’re looking much better today, Lena.”

“I’m feeling better, too.” She wanted to blurt out the news, but there were always spies who wanted to profit on tidbits of information. One phone call, and the press would be at the door wanting a story on Lena Scott’s pregnancy. The production would be disrupted.

Franklin waited outside the door. He seemed even more protective than usual. “Do the scene the way we did it this morning, and you’ll be great.” Tense, she stood on her mark, the lines racing through her head. Every scene was one less she would have to do, one closer to the end of Lena Scott’s last movie.

The next few days went quickly. Franklin watched the dailies with the director. She hated watching herself on-screen and spent the time resting in her dressing room. Friday morning, Franklin was edgy and preoccupied. He drove in silence, his hands tight on the wheel. Sweat beaded his brow. She slept. She awakened when he turned off the highway. How long had they been driving?

“We’re almost there.” He reached over and ran his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. “They said it wouldn’t be too bad. You’ll feel cramping for a couple of hours. Then it will all be over.”

It will all be over?
She froze, panic bubbling up inside her. “What are you talking about?”

“The abortion.”

When he said he’d taken care of everything, she thought he meant the difficult conversation with the director, not killing their child.

“No.” Her voice quavered. “It’s wrong.”

“Who’s to say what’s right and wrong? Right now, this is right for you. It’s the best we can do under the circumstances.”

“I don’t want an abortion!”

“Do you think I don’t know why you planned this? I know I’ve pushed you hard, Lena. Maybe too hard. We’ll take more time off between movies after this is over.”

“It’s against the law!”

“It’s done all the time!” He let out a sharp breath. “I won’t tell you how much this little mistake is costing me.” He looked angry now, determined. “I didn’t want just anyone doing it. I wanted the best.”

“The best?”

“A doctor, not a backroom butcher.”

Abra started to cry. “I won’t do it! I won’t!”

“I’ve been thinking. Once your career is established, then you can take time off to have a baby. We could hire a nanny. You’d have to work with a trainer for a few months to get back in shape, but it can be done.”

“Aren’t you listening to me?”

“You listen!” His fingers turned white as he tightened his grip on the wheel. Did he wish it was her neck? “You’re nowhere near ready to be a mother. You don’t know the first thing about children.” He turned onto a country road toward the hills. He glanced at a sheet of notes and turned down a long driveway.

He parked in front of a small house. He shoved his door open quickly and came around to the passenger side. Seeing no escape, Abra stopped resisting. Franklin didn’t let go of her arm. “I’ll stay with you every minute. I promise.”

A woman answered the door. Abra didn’t look up. Franklin said
something about the lupines being particularly beautiful this year, and they were invited in.

“I have to be careful, you know.” The woman sounded annoyed, not apologetic. “The Catholics would love to see me put in jail.”

“We’re not Catholic.”

“Do you have the money?”

Franklin pulled out his wallet and extracted two crisp hundred-dollar bills.

The woman took the cash and folded it into her pocket, then stepped back. “I have everything ready. This way.”

Franklin took Abra by the arm again. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.” Abra kept her head down as they followed the woman into the house, down a hall, and into a back room with white walls, a table with stirrups, and drawn shades.

“This isn’t what I was expecting.” Franklin sounded worried.

“I have everything I need.”

“Is there going to be a lot of pain?”

“Not as much as childbirth, and it’ll be over soon. Have her take off everything below the waist and then get her up on the table.”

Abra felt frozen in fear as Franklin undressed her. He kept talking, his voice tense. “You’re going to be fine. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. Then we’ll forget this ever happened.” He scooped her up in his arms and placed her gently on the table. He helped lift her feet into the stirrups. Her legs shook. “Easy.” He leaned down, resting his forehead on the inner curve of her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish there was an easier way.”

Clenching her teeth, she whimpered.

Franklin stroked her forehead with icy fingers. “It’ll be over soon.”

It was.

The woman straightened and stripped off rubber gloves. She washed her hands in the basin. “It should be all over by tomorrow morning.”

Franklin straightened, his face going white. “What do you mean,
tomorrow
? You said it would be over soon.”

“My part is. The saline solution takes time to work on the fetus.” The woman opened the door.

“Where are you going?” Franklin sounded alarmed. He went after her.

“Franklin!” Abra tried to grasp hold of his arm. He said he wouldn’t leave her. Abra could hear them arguing. He cursed loudly. A door opened and closed. Abra managed to sit up and get off the table. Her body shook so violently she had trouble putting her clothes on.

Franklin came back into the room, face livid, until he saw her. He slipped his arm quickly around her waist, supporting her on the way to the car. “We can’t stay here. We’ll check into a motel, down by the beach. Everything is going to be all right. It’ll be okay.”

All through the night, Franklin sat beside her and held her hand. When the pain grew and grew, he put his hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Don’t scream. Please, Lena. Someone will hear and call the police.” He left her long enough to roll a washcloth so she had something to bite down on other than his hand. “I’m sorry, Lena.” He cried. “I’m so sorry. I love you, Lena. I love you so much. I’ll make it right again. I swear.”

“How are you going to do that, Franklin?” Keening, Abra clenched the bedcovers, twisting them as the pain became unrelenting, while he stood helpless, watching.

It was all over before the sun came up. Franklin wrapped everything in a towel and went out to the beach. It was a long time before he came back, his face ashen, his fingernails full of sand.

He bundled Abra in one of the motel blankets and carried her out to the car before checking out. When he reached for her hand, she jerked away, staring out the window, seeing nothing.

Neither spoke a word on the long drive back to Los Angeles.

CHAPTER 14

“What a fool I was,” said he, “not to tear my heart out on the day when I resolved to avenge myself!”

ALEXANDRE DUMAS

J
OSHUA
CLOSED
THE
PHONE
BOOTH
DOOR
and broke a roll of quarters open on the counter. He dialed Dad’s number. Between work, spending time with Dave’s family, and taking his evening prayer walks, he hadn’t had time to write home. Dad would want to hear how things were going. Leaning against the glass wall, Joshua looked out at Hollywood Boulevard while he waited for his father to answer.