Starlight (21 page)

Saturday morning, Karen woke with a queasy stomach but held her own until after breakfast; then she was sick again.

“Isn’t there anything you can do about this?” Rand asked her impatiently after she reappeared in the kitchen.

“I’m usually okay if I can force down some soda crackers first thing. I try to keep some on the nightstand …” She paused at the look of disgust that came over Rand’s face.

His upper lip curled into a snarl. “Those were the crumbs I felt in bed, weren’t they?”

“Yes.” She wouldn’t lie to him even if it meant condemning herself.

Karen had never seen anyone’s look turn as cold or hard.

“You’re a deceitful bitch, Karen.”

“Can’t you understand?” she snapped. “I didn’t plan this pregnancy.”

“Just like you didn’t plan our marriage?”

Karen dropped her eyes, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. It was no use trying to reason with Rand, nor would she again. If he loved her, truly loved her, then his faith in her integrity would eventually overcome his doubts. She couldn’t force the issue.

Perhaps his irritation wouldn’t have been so explosive if he hadn’t gone to stroke the cat and discovered she was pregnant.

“Karen.” His voice had vibrated through the house. When she didn’t respond
immediately, he shouted again.

She’d gone to the bedroom, taking her time. She wouldn’t rush to him; she wasn’t a servant who responded to threats and yelling. “What is it?” she asked calmly, ignoring his scowl.

“The cat.” Anger furrowed his brow, and his mouth curved in a taut line. “Number Nine is pregnant, isn’t she?” It wasn’t a question, but an accusation, as if this, too, were something Karen had purposely done to thwart and undermine his authority.

“Yes,” she responded simply, without explanation.

“Why wasn’t I warned of the blessed event?” he demanded sarcastically.

She replied in mocking tones, “I would have been more than pleased to tell you, but I haven’t seen you in nearly a week. And, shall we say, the timing was wrong.”

Karen had never seen anyone angrier. His hands were knotted into tight fists; his dark eyes became as hard as steel, his jawline white and tense. “Get rid of the cat.” The softly spoken words were more menacing than if he’d raged at her.

Karen gasped in disbelief; all attempts at impudence collapsed with his words. “You don’t mean that.”

His lip curled sardonically as he moved past her and into the den, his message clear.

Later, Karen went for a walk. Tears stung her eyes, and she tilted her head back to prevent their spilling. She followed the worn path leading into the woods and heard Carl’s approach before she saw him. Hurriedly, she wiped the tears from her eyes and put on a bright smile.

“Good morning, Miss Karen.” He greeted her with a broad grin.

“Been leaving little tidbits around for the animals again, I see.” She responded in a teasing banter, belying the hurt that lay just below the surface of her smile.

He chuckled, and the sound of his amusement lifted her soul from the mire of self-pity. Likable, lovable, understanding Carl. Why did life have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she be more like this man, who wore a ready smile and looked as if he’d never known trouble or discouragement?

“Carl?”

“Yes’m.”

“Rand found out about Number Nine.”

The older man chuckled again. “I’ve been wondering about that bellow that came from your house this morning. Was he angry?”

Karen couldn’t prevent a smiling response to his humor. Rand had sounded like a bull elk in his irritation. “He wasn’t exactly pleased. I have to find another home for
Number Nine.”

The smile faded from Carl’s weathered face. “I don’t think he means that, Miss Karen. He seems to be saying a lot of things he doesn’t mean lately.” The dark eyes grew intense. “Me and the missus will take Number Nine. If Mr. Rand doesn’t want her back, that’s fine, ’cause we’ve been needing a mouser.”

“But she’s going to deliver the litter soon.”

“Not to worry.” Again, Karen was reassured with a grin. “We have several friends who need mousers.”

Karen was afraid that if she spoke, her voice would crack and Carl would know how much his generosity had affected her.

Eyes dancing, he touched the tip of his cap and sauntered down the path.

“Carl?” she called after he’d gone several feet.

He spun around.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t hide the choke in her voice.

As she continued walking along the well-worn path, she could think, sort through her own feelings. For all the unhappiness she was experiencing, there was also a budding excitement beginning to blossom. A child was growing within her, a child created in love.

Rand and Karen were scheduled to leave for the lecture series next week. The thought of time alone together brought a surge of hope. Rand had purposely made separate flight plans so they wouldn’t be traveling with Cora. He’d promised to make this trip the honeymoon they’d never had. Karen believed that only when they were separated from the pressures around them would Rand begin to accept the child. Six days; she could last another six days. The lecture series offered hope and promise.

When she returned to the house feeling refreshed and invigorated, she found Rand asleep on the davenport. The Braille book he’d been reading lay twisted on the carpet where it had fallen. As Karen picked up the book and placed it on the end table, an encompassing warmth filled her. In sleep, the gaunt lines of fatigue in Rand’s face were relaxed. She brought him a pillow and blanket and impulsively brushed her lips softly over his cheek.

Baking chocolate-chip cookies gave her an excuse to stay in the kitchen and have a full view of her husband. It was obvious he was exhausted, and she guarded his sleep jealously.

The phone rang, jerking her attention to the kitchen wall. Karen raced across the floor to answer it before a second ring could sound.

“Hello,” she greeted softly.

“Let me speak to Rand.” It was the brisk business voice of his associate.

“He’s sleeping, Cora,” Karen said with a glance toward Rand to be sure the phone hadn’t awakened him. “Unless it’s important, I’d hate to disturb him.”

A heavy sigh followed. “No, it can wait.”

“I’ll tell him you phoned.”

“Do that,” Cora said sharply, then added. “By the way, I’m sorry to hear you won’t be traveling with us next week.” Her tone suggested just the opposite. “Rand said you’re much too ill with morning sickness to travel. I’ve had my flight plans rearranged so Rand and I can fly together. You’ll tell him that for me, won’t you?”

“Yes … yes, I will.” Confused and hurt, Karen could only make a feeble response. “I’ll tell him you phoned. Good-bye.” She heard the click as the other end of the line was disconnected.

She stood there, the phone still in her hand, staring at Rand while tears brimmed in her eyes. Rand knew how much she’d been looking forward to traveling with him. How much she’d been counting on this trip. He hadn’t even bothered to inform her of his change of plans. He was going to leave her behind, just walk out the door without her, without a word of explanation.

Replacing the receiver, Karen leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her middle as a protective buffer to shield her unborn child. As if the baby could feel her hurt, her ache.

Perhaps she was being too optimistic regarding their marriage. Perhaps Rand would never accept her condition, never love or cherish their child. Perhaps he felt the necessity of being away from her to decide exactly what he wanted to do. Perhaps send her away. He had shouted for her to leave. Certainly the tension between them hadn’t lessened.

Doubts, uncertainties, and questions pounded her from all sides, until her hands flew to her face as if to ward them off.

She needed to escape, too, but Rand had discounted any of her needs. He had been so angry with her because she’d hidden the pregnancy from him as long as she could. Yet he hadn’t told her he’d changed their travel plans. Did that make him any less guilty? Rand had hoped to hurt her and had succeeded.

She waited until the cookies finished baking, then took a suitcase to the bedroom to pack her things. Where she’d go remained unclear—just away, she reasoned, to set order to her thoughts, decide what she wanted to do.

Carl was weeding the flowerbeds in the front of the house and glanced up when Karen quietly closed the front door. She jerked around when he spoke.

“Miss Karen, where are you going?” His eyes fell pointedly on the suitcase.

Karen looked away self-consciously, feeling like a cat burglar trapped in a bedroom. It was wrong to leave without saying a word. Everyone would worry, and she didn’t want that.

“I’m not exactly sure where I’ll go.” Her eyes studied the tops of her shoes.

“Are you leaving Mr. Rand?”

“Oh, no,” she denied instantly. “I just need to get away for a couple of days.”

“Are you going to your family?”

“No.” She couldn’t put Judy and her dad in the middle of this. It would be unfair to all concerned; she hadn’t even told her father she was pregnant yet. “I think I’ll go down the Oregon coast. There was a little inn my parents loved, and they often vacationed there. It’s someplace outside of Tillamook on the ocean. I think I’ll head that way. Tell Rand where I am and not to worry. I’ll be back in three days, four at the most. If you need to get ahold of me, Dad can tell you the name of the inn.” She hesitated. “Take care of Rand for me, won’t you, Carl?”

The older man gave her a toothy grin. “All right, Miss Karen, I will.”

The drive down the rugged coastline was exhilarating, the scenery breathtakingly beautiful. Karen stopped at several scenic viewpoints to watch the waves explode against the huge, jagged rocks in majestic harmony. Several times she found herself wishing Rand was with her so she could describe the vivid colors and the brilliant beauty of the coast. Narrating a scene for him was one of the simple pleasures she enjoyed; it gave her a greater appreciation for the beauty of God’s world. Rand had once told her after they’d made love that when he was holding her in his arms, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see. For the first time in his life, he didn’t hate being blind.

Now Karen wondered if he’d ever hold her again. The thought brought so much pain that she instantly rejected it.

The white shuttered inn her parents often visited was still there, but it was older and much smaller than Karen remembered. The family-owned enterprise had changed hands, but the new family was friendly and welcoming. Their teenage son carried Karen’s lone suitcase upstairs, chatting the whole distance, offering advice about the best dinner spots, as it was nearing that time.

The room was small but adequate and had a panoramic view overlooking the ocean. Karen stood staring at it for a long time, watching the tide ebb away. The ocean mesmerized her; it was like watching sand sift through a bottle, wondering what would happen when all the sand was gone. The ocean was turbulent as the waves crashed along the beach, yet Karen found it soothing and relaxing after the long drive. She fell asleep
without venturing from her room. She woke refreshed and hungry the next morning. In fact, she felt wonderful, better than any morning for three long months. A smile softened her mouth. Judy had claimed that if they were alike, the morning sickness would pass almost as quickly as it came—after about three months.

Karen was more like her sister than she realized. Anxious to enjoy the ocean air, Karen dressed in faded jeans, which fit snugly around her waist, and a pale-purple short-sleeved sweatshirt.

“Good morning.” She smiled at the boy who’d carried her suitcase the night before.

The returning smile was instantaneous. “Good morning.”

“Want to recommend someplace for breakfast?”

It was the most enjoyable breakfast Karen had eaten in months. Without even a hint of morning upset, she took a long stroll along the undisturbed beach. It had rained during the night, hardening the sand, but as the sun appeared, drying the beach, it became impossible to walk in her tennis shoes. She paused long enough to remove them and flex her toes in the sand. She walked for so long that she lost sight of the inn. Her shoes were now used to store little treasures she discovered along the way, mostly small shells.

Pausing, she decided to rest before venturing back. The soft sand welcomed her weight, and she laid back, waving her arms to make a pattern of angel wings in the soft surface, then laughed at her childishness. How simple life would be if only she was a little girl again. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear her mother’s worried voice telling her, “Karen, move back; the tide’s coming in.” But Karen had refused to leave her project, thinking her stubbornness would prevent the waters from sweeping away an afternoon’s work.

“Matthew, do something. She’ll be drenched,” her mother had pleaded.

Helplessly, Karen had cried as her father had carried her onto the beach and she witnessed the sand castle washed away in minutes. Karen now felt much the same as she had then, the ache within her almost identical. That helpless feeling of holding on to something, then watching it disintegrate after having spent a part of herself in constructing it. Only this time it wasn’t a simple sand castle; it was the love and marriage she had built with Rand.

Jerking herself upright, she brushed the sand from her pants. She’d come here to meditate, recollect her thoughts; now she found them too painful and forced them from her mind.

For all her wanderings along the beach and the unaccustomed exercise, sleep remained elusive that night. After fighting herself and her thoughts, Karen rose and
dressed, slipping outside into the moonlight. It had rained again that afternoon, but the skies were clear now, alive with glittering jewels that seemed to smile down on her. The wind was strong as it whipped her hair across her face. It felt good and right to be exactly where she was and who she was.

Karen found herself talking to the child, her hand placed over her stomach as if to communicate her thoughts. The baby had barely begun to form within her, yet the overwhelming love Karen felt for this tiny being was beyond description. Recognizing and accepting this overpowering emotion had a very calming effect on her.