First Sight (37 page)

“Actually, I’m still feeling lousy. I’m going home to bed.”

“My poor baby. I’m sorry I’m not there to take care of you and hold you in my arms.”

“So am I,” she said, and choked on a sob. “I’ll call you from home.”

“I’m actually going out to dinner with the children. I’ll call you when I get back.”

“Have a nice time,” she said, sounding distracted, and then remembered to tell him that she loved him. She did. But that didn’t mean she had a right to have his child or screw up his life. She cried all the rest of the way home after she hung up.

As promised, he called her later that afternoon, and late that night when he woke up on Saturday morning. He called her all through the weekend, as he always did. He was adorable and loving and worried about her stomach. He asked her several times if the antibiotic was giving her a problem, and she said it wasn’t. But he could tell she wasn’t feeling like herself. She made excuses for it all weekend, and whenever she wasn’t talking to him, she lay in bed and cried. It was the most painful decision she had ever had to make, whether to have this baby or not, and without input from him. Did she have a right to deprive this child of a father, if for some reason the relationship with Jean-Charles broke up? Was she truly that committed to him? Much to her surprise and relief, she concluded that her answer to that was yes. What if it wasn’t a healthy baby, because of her age? She was surprised to find that that wasn’t a determining factor for her. She was willing to take her chances on that, and if she wanted to, she could always have amniocentesis or other tests. So what was the problem? She tortured herself about it all weekend, as she walked slowly down the beach, or lay on the deck. The problem was that Jean-Charles was married, they had been in love for less than three months, and if for whatever reason, he didn’t leave his wife, she would be bringing up this child alone. And worst of all, what if something terrible happened again, as it had to Mark? She didn’t think she could live through the agony of losing another child. Even one that had been in her life as briefly as Blake. So what was the answer? Run away and lose it before it was even born? How could she ever face that, or forgive herself? She wasn’t deeply religious, but she was still Catholic enough to believe that abortion was wrong, for her at least, particularly if she had the money to bring up a child, and provide for it handsomely, with or without a man. In the end, it became a moral issue for her, and a lot more. It boiled down to how much she loved Jean-Charles, and wanted his baby, even if it made no sense at all.

By Sunday morning, she felt utterly tortured, and all she could think of was her late son. She was haunted by Mark as never before. She was the mother of a child who had died, a boy she loved so much who had been taken from her. And now, if God had chosen to give her another one, however inconvenient or ill timed, how could she refuse such a gift? In addition, she had grown up as an orphan. Her own parents had died when she was five. For years, she had devoted time and energy to helping children like her, to make their lives a better place. They were all children that no one wanted, and she was deeply committed to taking care of them. Given that, how could she refuse to open her heart to this baby? How could she cast away yet another unwanted child, because his conception had been an accident? And what if he or she was the greatest joy of her life? What right did she have to refuse this child life?

And then there was the biggest issue of all. She loved this baby’s father, more than she had ever loved any man in her life. She wanted a life with him, she had given her heart to him. She had opened her life and soul and body to this man, and above all her heart. How could she turn away from the baby that was the evidence of their love? And what if he did leave his wife, and came to her after all, what if this was their one and only chance to have a child? She was no longer young enough to be able to count on it happening again. What if it never did? She knew that if she gave it up, she would forever regret what she had given up, out of fear and cowardice. She knew she would never forgive herself, and perhaps Jean-Charles wouldn’t either. Suddenly, this baby seemed more important than either of them. She might lose it anyway, at her age. But if she didn’t, in her eyes, this was a baby who deserved the chance to live. She couldn’t deprive herself of that, nor Jean-Charles, or even the baby that was the fruit of their love. Their union wasn’t based on sex, it was all about love.

In the end, it was Mark who made the decision, as she stood looking at his photograph when she went back to the house in Bel Air on Sunday night. She held his picture in her hands, and looked into his eyes. She could almost feel him next to her, and remembered the delicious silk of his hair, and his huge green eyes so like hers. She had lost him so many years before, and ached for him for so long. She still missed him every day. And now this new baby had come, not to take his place, but to give her a chance to love a child again. She couldn’t have buried one child, and allowed herself to kill another. Just as Mark had been, this baby was a miracle in her life. Even more so, because she loved Jean-Charles, whether he left his wife or not. She hadn’t told him about the baby yet because she didn’t want to pressure him and needed to think it out herself.

As she went to bed that night, she knew the decision had been made. She could almost see Mark smiling at her, from wherever he was in Heaven. Not only did she feel as though he was at peace, but so was she. God had given her this baby, this one last chance to have a child, fathered by a man she loved so much. She knew she couldn’t turn this gift of love away, any more than she could have turned away from its father. This baby was the outcome of their love. He called her just before she fell asleep, and for the first time in days she sounded like herself.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he whispered, as she answered sleepily.

“I’m fine now. I love you.” More than she could tell him or dared to say. “So much.” He smiled at his end as he heard her words.

“I love you too. I’m so happy that I’m going to see you next week.” In her upset and excitement over the baby, she had forgotten that. She was going to Paris to talk to the people at the textile mill. And now she would have to tell Jean-Charles about the baby. He had a right to know, and even to have a voice in this. He could toss her away because of this if he chose. But she knew he would never do anything like that. She hoped he would be happy about it too. And in a few weeks, he would leave his wife. “Sleep tight, my darling,” he whispered, and she hung up after telling him again that she loved him. She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. She was going to tell him about their baby next week, when she went to Paris. With luck, it would all turn out okay.

Chapter 17

Timmie was already packed and ready for her Paris trip the next day, when she got a call from Jean-Charles at midnight, sounding seriously distressed. At first, she didn’t even recognize his voice. He sounded near tears.

“What’s wrong,
chéri
?” She was starting to pick up French words here and there, and kept promising herself to take a class at Berlitz. When she had time, whenever that would be. In another lifetime maybe, but she wanted to learn French for him.

“We have a serious problem,” he said in an ominous tone, and her heart nearly stopped as he said it. For an instant, all she could think of was that he was dumping her. The baby she was carrying, and that he didn’t know about, didn’t even cross her mind. All she could think of was that he was about to tell her it was over, and her heart started to pound. Her breath came in short gasps. Terror struck at his tone. It was reflex for her. Visions of the orphanage again, and being sent back again and again, for years.

“What do you mean?” Timmie asked in a hoarse croak. She had never heard him sound like that before.

“My wife is sick. Very sick. She was diagnosed with cancer today.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Timmie’s thoughts turned instantly to her, without thinking of him, or herself. And then, more slowly, she began to realize the impact this could have on them. It sounded like it already had.

“She had a small lump in her breast. I thought it was nothing, so I didn’t mention it to you. She worries about her health, and she’s had these scares before. We got the results of the biopsy today. She has stage-two cancer. They will remove the lump, not the entire breast, but she will need chemotherapy and radiation. She’s enormously upset, and so am I for her.” He didn’t sound cold to Timmie, only different. Very different. And she was terrified of what this meant for them, or could. “Timmie, she asked me to stay with her, and not move out in June. She’s very frightened, and wants me with her for the treatments. She has several months of treatment ahead, anywhere from two to six, depending on how she responds. She will lose her hair, and possibly be quite sick. She’s the mother of my children. I can’t walk out on her right now, no matter how in love we are. And I love you very much,” he reiterated, but Jade’s voice was suddenly much louder in Timmie’s head than his. Jade had warned of things just like this. She didn’t think he was lying. But it was the first postponement of perhaps many more to come, if he ever left at all.

“I don’t know what to say,” Timmie said, sounding shaken and frightened. “I feel very sorry for her … and scared for me,” she said honestly.

“Don’t be scared,” he said, sounding calmer than he had a minute ago. He had been desperately worried about what Timmie would say, and it had been a stressful day dealing with his wife, who was in a total panic, and his kids. Even his son was upset. Their mother was extremely ill. “This doesn’t change anything. It’s just a delay in our plans.” Or the end of them. And right now, six months made a big difference to her. She hadn’t been to the obstetrician yet, but she had been mildly nauseated all week. She was pregnant, and had no exact idea yet how much. Somewhere between one month and two. And she had been planning to tell him that week. Given what he was saying now, she would be six or seven months pregnant when he left his house, if his wife was even well enough then for him to leave, or he came up with some other excuse. Even though there was no denying that this one was valid. Timmie understood, but her own terrors were rearing their heads. She was scared stiff he’d never leave his house, or his wife. Maybe Jade was right. “You’re very quiet. What are you thinking?” he asked, sounding worried about her now. “Timmie, I love you. Please know that, no matter what happens here.”

“I’m scared,” she said honestly. “I feel terrible for her. It’s everyone’s worst nightmare. I think of it every time I get a mammogram, or any other kind of test. And chemo sounds so awful. I don’t blame her for wanting you there. I’d be scared too. I just wonder what it means for us.” And what if she stayed sick for a long time, or got worse? He would never leave. “I know that sounds selfish, but I love you, and I don’t want you to stay there forever.”

“We’re not talking forever. Just a few more months.” He had originally wanted four. Now he wanted six more. To be with his wife. And what if her illness brought them closer together, or repaired the old wounds in their marriage? Where would Timmie be then? She’d be dumped, duped, and distraught, as David said. Heartbroken. Lost. Alone. Worse yet, now with his child. She didn’t want that to be a factor for him. She was not going to pull him, or use it to entrap him, or manipulate him. She wanted him fair and square. Not a wife with cancer pulling one arm, a pregnant mistress yanking the other. If he came to her, she wanted it to be because he loved her, not because he felt he owed it to her, because of a baby, or anything else. She was not going to use it to manipulate him. She wanted him honestly, and only for her, not out of some sense of duty to a child he felt obligated to acknowledge and might not really want. Telling him about the baby now seemed manipulative to her, and she was not going to play that game with him. She was going to keep the news to herself for now, at least until things settled down in his life. But that could take a long time.

And then he hit her again. “I don’t think you should come over tomorrow, Timmie, unless you really have to, for business. Things are very complicated for me here. I’m not sure I could get away, and that would be hard for both of us. I don’t want to upset my wife just now. I hope you understand.” There was silence at her end. She felt a sudden exquisite, overwhelming pain in her gut, as the air went out of her lungs. She felt it like a physical blow. He was abandoning her, even in some small degree. And this was not so small. Every fiber of her being reminded her that she had been here before, and it was not a good place to be. For her, it was the very worst place of all. Abandoned and alone, to whatever degree. The wounded five-year-old in her instantly woke up.

“I understand,” she managed to squeeze out the words. “Let me know when things calm down.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m truly sorry,” he said somberly. “This is no one’s fault.” He was right, not even his. But it pained her to become acutely aware that his primary allegiance was still to his wife, and not to her. His wife had history on her side, which was one of Timmie’s worst fears. Her greatest terror was that his wife would win in the end. And she would lose. “I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you too,” Timmie answered, and then they hung up, both of them feeling drained.

As soon as the line disconnected, Timmie felt overwhelmed with panic. He did not want her to come to Paris. She had no idea when she would see him again, or even if. It was a horrifying thought to her, and she would not allow herself to go there. Instead she lay in bed, curled up in the fetal position, with her arms around her knees, and cried. What if he never saw her again? She asked herself if it changed her mind about the baby, but she knew there was no turning back. She was not only having this baby because of him, although he was the largest part of it, but she was also having it for herself, because of Mark, and thanks to God. But it meant the world to her because it was his. At her worst, as she lay there, she thought about his never knowing about it, and never seeing her again. She knew she was being dramatic, but it was hard not to be. Her situation with him was completely unstable. No matter how much she loved him, or he said he loved her, he was still a married man, living with his wife, who was now extremely sick and needed him. And he was staying with her for now. Everything about the situation was designed to arouse Timmie’s worst fears. It couldn’t get much worse for her, unless he ended it for good.