Текст книги "Native Affairs"

Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens

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Текущая страница: 35 (всего у книги 37 страниц)

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to give you all the lurid details,” Ann said dryly. “Though, of course, you wound up hearing them anyway.”

“You’re staying here tonight and no excuses,” Joan said briskly. “I’ll make up the guest room bed and in the morning, if you still want to go to New York, Joe will drive you to the airport. You can leave that article of conspicuous consumption at the curb and Heath can pick it up anytime. I don’t know if I’ll be able to speak to him when he does but that’s another issue.”

“Don’t blame him,” Ann said. “We’re both responsible for this disaster—Heath for his inability to trust me, and me for my naivete in thinking that we could wipe out all the damage of the past and start fresh. The past affects the present. It will always be there, like a shadow.”

“You look exhausted,” Joan said. “Just give me a minute to get fresh sheets on the bed and we’ll be in business.” Joan left the room and Joe shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“It’s really a pity about you two,” Joe finally said quietly. “It’s obvious you’re crazy about each other.”

“Sometimes that isn’t enough,” Ann replied.

“It should be.”

“In a perfect world,” Ann said dejectedly.

“Are you going to divorce him?” Joe asked.

Ann’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t think about anything except getting out of there tonight.”

“Don’t be hasty. Take some time to consider it.”

“Joe, I know how much you care for Heath, but he’s a better friend than he is a husband,” Ann said flatly.

“I can understand that,” Joe said. “He’s very... volatile. It’s just that where business matters are concerned he will usually listen to my advice.”

“I only wish I could say the same about his personal life,” Ann replied.

Joan returned with a blanket folded in her arms. “All set,” she said.

Ann rose and followed her into the hall.

* * * *

Heath paced the floor in his bathrobe, unable to leave the bedroom or to stop walking up and down restlessly. Ann was gone and every impulse he possessed urged him to go after her. But he remained where he was, stymied not by stubbornness but by an awareness of what he had done.

He had ruined it. Over the past couple of months Ann had gradually begun to relax and believe that they could work out their problems, forget the brutal beginning to their reunion and the legacy of their former lives. But he had blasted it all into smithereens with just a few cruel words, and he had the sinking feeling that this time he would not be able to patch everything together.

He had gone too far.

Heath slid back the door to the patio and stood out on the flagstones, looking up at the stars. They began to blur and he had to glance away.

He didn’t really believe that Ann had been unfaithful to him, no more than he had believed that she’d been flirting with Ben Rowell at their Christmas party. But something in him made him want to rend and tear what was good, smash it and break it and stomp it in to bits. Did he still think he wasn’t good enough for Henry Talbot’s daughter? Or was it that the thought of children terrified him, their neediness and total dependence, the idea that he might be as bad a father as his own father had been? He should have told Ann that, of course, instead of making stupid accusations, but admission of weakness was not in his makeup. He had pulled out of Hispaniola through toughness and determination, never letting anyone see a weak spot in his iron facade. It was too difficult to change for one new person, even if that person was Ann. His habits were fixed.

Heath sat on a redwood bench and stared at the ground, remembering the look on her face when he’d said the baby could not be his. Of course he knew that her pregnancy was possible, he had been told as much when he’d had the operation. But instead of accepting her version of events he’d had to say the most damning thing he could think of and drive her out of the house.

Why was he so destructive?

He stood again, wondering where she had gone. She had the car and a wallet full of credit cards she rarely used. But she might find a purpose for them now. She could go anywhere in the world and he would have to hire a posse to find her.

And she was carrying his child.

The phone in the bedroom rang shrilly, startling him out of his reverie. He dashed for it, slipping on the rug, and grabbed it on the second ring.

“Annie?” he said.

“No, but she’s here,” Joan replied icily.

“Joan?”

“Yup.”

“She’s at your house?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right over,” Heath said.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Joan said.

“Why not?”

“She’s asleep now and I think you should let her rest. She was very upset and I don’t imagine waking up and seeing you is going to help her calm down, do you?”

There was a frosty tone in Joan’s usually friendly voice that Heath didn’t mistake.

“Then I’ll talk to her in the morning,” Heath said.

“I can’t promise that she’ll be here.”

“Keep her there.”

“I’ll do no such thing, Heath. She’s a grown woman and can do as she pleases, and what she pleases right now is to get far away from you.”

“Joan, she’s pregnant.”

“Yes, I know, and I hear the child’s paternity is in doubt,” Joan said sarcastically.

“Joan, this is between Ann and me.”

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not since you drove her away and she wound up on my doorstep. I don’t know why I’m even letting you know where she is. Joe said not to bother calling you but I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

“Heath, I can’t prevent you from doing that but I would advise against it. I think Ann needs time.”

Heath hesitated. So far he had done exactly what he wanted, and where had it gotten him? Maybe he should listen to someone else for a change.

“I’ll call, then.”

“All right,” Joan said.

“And, Joanie? Thanks.”

Joan hung up without replying.

* * * *

Heath called the Jensen house at seven the next morning, after a sleepless night.

“Let me talk to Ann,” He said to Joe, who answered.

“I’m sorry, Heath. She’s gone. About an hour ago,” Joe said.

* * * *

Ann’s apartment was just as she’d left it. Almost. The neighbor who’d sent her things to Florida had been watering her plants, but there was a thin film of dust on all the furniture and the place had a closed up, musty smell that made her nose twitch reflexively. She flung the windows wide, despite the frosty February temperatures. She spent the first day in therapeutic cleaning—dusting and polishing furiously to forget her troubles while a gray sleet fell outside, covering the streets of Greenwich Milage with slush.

It didn’t work. Twice she broke down crying as she was scrubbing the bathroom tile, a chore she had not missed while Daniela was doing it in Florida. But there was something satisfying about taking out her anger on soap scum and graying grout. When every surface in the four rooms was spotless and shining, she took a long shower and then made an appointment with the Fifth Avenue gynecologist she’d been seeing for years.

No amount of misery was going to make her neglect the health of this baby.

When there was no more cleaning left to do, Ann sat at her computer and tried to work. But the bulk of the book was on the hard drive in Florida and she kept forgetting references until she gave up in frustration. She would ask Daniela to send her what she needed and maybe that would help.

For the moment her muse had deserted her.

Disgusted and weary, Ann lay down on her bed to take a nap, telling herself that the desire for sleep was not depression but the instinct to take care of the baby.

Her phone started to ring as her head slipped to the pillow. It rang twenty times, until she lifted the receiver and let it drop back into the cradle. Then it began to ring again.

Ann unplugged it and threw the instrument into the bottom of her closet.

Then she went back to bed.

* * * *

Three days later Ann was checking some references in the outdated version of the Encyclopedia Britannica she had purchased from the Dunnell Library when a furious knocking commenced at her door. She rose and stood on the rug just inside the door, saying to the dead air, “Heath, go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“It isn’t Heath,” Amy’s voice replied in irritation. “Now will you please open this door?”

Ann undid the three dead bolts necessary for life on Astor Place and let Amy into the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” Ann said, amazed.

“Seeing if you are dead or alive, since I’ve been calling every day and getting no answer.”

“I disconnected the phone.”

“That was very smart.”

“I didn’t want to talk to Heath.”

“Or anybody else, apparently.” Amy unbuttoned her coat and removed it, shivering. “I always forget how cold it gets up here. Why do people choose to live in such an ungodly climate? I took this rag out of mothballs, and burned up the rest of my frequent flyer miles, trekking up here for the weekend when Heath told me you had left him. What the hell is going on? The last time I talked to you all was wedded bliss, and now this.”

“I told him I was pregnant and he said he wasn’t the father,” Ann stated flatly.

Amy’s face went blank with shock. “What?” she finally said, inadequately.

“I guess he didn’t tell you that part of it, did he?” Ann observed dryly.

“No.” Amy followed Ann into the tiny living room and collapsed into a chair, tossing her overnight bag on the sofa. “He certainly has had you on a roller coaster, hasn’t he?”

“The ride’s over,” Ann said.

“Does he know that?”

“I’ve tried to make it perfectly clear.”

“Has he been here?”

Ann nodded. “I wouldn’t let him in and threatened to call the police. I thought he would kick in the door until I told him if I had a miscarriage it would be his fault. I assumed he had come back when I heard you in the hall.”

“Is he still in New York?”

“I doubt it. I don’t think he could tear himself away from his precious business for longer than a day or two.”

Amy pulled her sweater over her head and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. “God, it’s hot in here. Coming inside is like going from an ice chest into a baker’s oven. No wonder everybody in New York is sick.”

“Steam heat in these old buildings,” Ann said, gesturing to the burbling radiator.

Amy sighed and removed her galoshes, frowning at the melting puddle of goo they had shed. “I remember that you were worried about how Heath would receive this news, but whatever gave him the idea that the child wasn’t his?”

“He had a vasectomy eight years ago.”

Amy stared at her. “Why would he do that?”

“So he wouldn’t produce any little alcoholics like his father. At least, that’s what he says.”

“But you don’t buy it.”

“I think the whole idea of family life is so blighted for him that he just wants to avoid the issue.”

“But he should have told you.”

“You know how we began this marriage, it didn’t really come into play then. And later I think he was afraid to say anything because I let him know I wanted children.”

“So rather than think medical science had failed, he assumed you had an affair?” Amy said, staring down in dismay at her equally wet shoes.

“Oh, who knows? I don’t care anymore. I only know what he said and that’s enough for me.”

“How can you stand it here with all this sleet and snow?” Amy asked, staring out the window.

“I prefer it to the company on Lime Island.” Ann replied, hanging Amy’s coat in her closet.

“What have you been doing holed up in here?”

“Working. Daniela sent me my manuscript.”

“How can you concentrate?”

“I couldn’t at first but it’s getting better.”

“Have you seen your doctor here?”

Ann nodded.

“How pregnant are you?”

“Three months, according to the sonogram.”

“So it happened when you first got married.”

Ann nodded.

“Heath has a lot of money. He can pursue you to the ends of the earth if he wants to.”

“Let him try,” Ann said grimly.

“So you’re determined to fight him?”

“I’m determined to do what’s best for me and the baby, whatever that may be.”

“Going up against somebody who has that many resources is a formidable challenge,” Amy said warningly.

“I’m equal to it,” Ann replied.

Amy stared at her, then began to smile slowly.

“I believe you are,” she said.

“You must be frozen, coming here directly from Florida,” Ann observed. “What would you like? Something hot to eat or drink? Coffee, tea, cocoa?”

“Bourbon,” Amy answered.

“I don’t think I have any liquor.”

“Well, look and see, will you?”

Ann went into the galley kitchen and returned with two bottles. She held them out and Amy took one look and gagged.

“That’s cooking sherry,” Amy said disgustedly.

“How about this other one?”

“Peach liqueur? Forget it. Why do you have to be such a teetotaler?”

“I’m not a teetotaler, I just never buy booze. I don’t entertain much.”

“Well, Zelda, it looks like we are going to go for a walk to that cozy little bar across the street.”

“Oh, all right, if you insist.” Ann was moving toward the closet when knocking sounded at her door again.

The two women looked at one another in alarm.

“Ann, it’s Heath,” a male voice said.

“I think I hear my mother calling me,” Amy said swiftly, standing abruptly.

“Amy, if you run out on me now, I will never speak to you again,” Ann whispered fiercely.

Amy looked dismayed but stayed where she was.

Ann walked over to the hall, put her mouth to the doorjamb, and said as firmly as she could, “Heath, I’ve already told you that I don’t want to talk to you.”

She could hear his heavy sigh from the other side of the paneled door.

“Ann, I’ve had legal advice on this,” Heath replied wearily. “I can get a court order allowing me access to you if you want me to go that route.”

“On what grounds?” Ann demanded.

“You sound like a lawyer,” Amy whispered.

Ann held up her hand for Amy to be quiet.

“On the grounds that you’re sequestered here in an emotionally disturbed state and may be endangering the life of our unborn child,” Heath replied.

This remark so enraged Ann that she yanked open the door and confronted Heath, hands on hips, eyes blazing.

“How dare you?” she demanded. “Not wanting to see you means that I am emotionally sound, not disturbed, and since when are you concerned about the welfare of a child you don’t want and furthermore claim isn’t yours?”

Amy was slinking past Ann soundlessly, heading straight for the closet door.

“Stop!” Ann said, whirling to confront her.

Amy stopped.

“Why don’t you let Amy go? This is embarrassing her and isn’t doing much for me, either,” Heath said. “We’ll have to talk about this sooner or later, it might as well be now.”

Ann glared at him, thinking it over as Amy looked at her hopefully.

“All right,” Ann finally said.

“I’ll be across the square in the Shamrock Shanty,” Amy said swiftly, grabbing her coat from the closet. She gave Ann the thumbs up sign behind Heath’s head as she fled through the door and closed it behind her.

“How can you live in this place?” Heath asked, looking around him in amazement. “It’s a telephone booth.”

“I’m not in the mood for small talk, Heath,” Ann said directly. “Get to the point.”

“I want you back, you and the baby,” he said.

“I take it you saw your doctor and he confirmed that you could be the baby’s father?” Ann said.

“I haven’t seen anyone. I know the baby is mine. You’re in love with me and you wouldn’t have slept with anyone else.”

“And when did you receive this dramatic revelation?”

“I’ve known it all along.”

“So you had a psychotic episode when you accused me of being unfaithful?”

Heath slumped in resignation, unable to reply. He unbuttoned the cashmere stadium coat he was wearing. “Do you think it would be possible for me to sit down? My limo didn’t show up at the airport and I had to take a taxi here from Kennedy.”

“What a shame,” Ann said, stepping aside, no trace of sympathy in her voice.

Heath dumped the heavy coat on a chair and sat on the small sofa. He was wearing a cream-colored wool crew-neck sweater and chocolate brown slacks with his customary moccasins, which were now stained dark with dampness.

“Take your shoes off,” Ann said.

He glanced up at her. “What?”

“Take your shoes off, they’re soaked right through. You’ll catch a cold.”

He obeyed, peeling off the wet socks, too. Ann took the socks and draped them over the radiator, where they sizzled and emitted a satisfying, safe– from-the-storm odor of wet wool and steam. She shoved both of the stiffening moccasins under the radiator and turned around to face him.

“Tm not coming back,” Ann said.

Heath looked at her, then away. “Ann, I’m sorry for what I said. It was uncalled for and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“I believe that you’re sorry. This time, as you were the last time. And you’ll be sorry the next time, too.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“There will be a next time, because the fundamental need to hurt me and drive me away will always be there. I can’t raise a child in that atmosphere. I won’t.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing I can do to make it right and have a life with you?”

“There is.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Like what?” he said.

“Go for counseling. I’ll go with you.”

His face closed. “No.”

She picked up his coat and handed it to him. “Then there’s nothing more to say,” Ann stated.

He dropped the coat on the floor. “I’m not going to a headshrinker to dredge up all that crap from my childhood that I’ve been trying to forget for twenty years!”

“It’s the source of your problems now, Heath. Surely you must see that.”

“I don’t need to be analyzed by you or anybody else, thank you very much.”

“Fine. Goodbye. I think you can see the door from where you’re sitting.”

His eyes narrowed. “How could I have forgotten how tough you can be?”

Ann said nothing.

“I should have remembered the way you were with your father,” he added.

“If I’m tough, as you put it, you’ve forced it on me. I’m not going to raise this child in an environment as dysfunctional as the one which surrounded you.”

“And the only way to prevent that is to get rid of me?” Heath inquired.

“Or help you.”

“I don’t need that kind of help. We can work things out between us.”

“We’ve tried that, Heath! How’s it going?”

Heath’s mouth became a hard line. “If you refuse to come back to me, I can sue you for custody once the baby is born.”

“Go right ahead. I’ll be very happy to say that you had an operation to prevent your ever fathering children and then denied paternity when I told you I was pregnant. I doubt very much that a judge will give custody to a man who never wanted children in the first place and would spend all his time working while the child was left in the care of servants.”

He gazed at her levelly. “I see you’ve already thought about all of this.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think.”

“So this is how we’re going to leave it?”

“I guess so.”

“What are you going to do? Stay here?”

“Yes. I have a good doctor, the hospital is two blocks away. I have plenty of work to keep me busy.”

“What about the trip back to Italy?”

“It can wait until after the baby is born.”

“I’ll want to see it.”

“I’m sure we can work out reasonable visitation rights, other people do.”

“As crisp as lettuce, aren’t you?” he said bitterly.

Ann relented. “Look, Heath, I know you can afford to hire a legal team that will drag me through the courts for years. For that matter, you can probably pay off anybody you want in order to make this come out exactly the way you please. But I’m asking you, for the sake of the baby, not to do that.”

He was silent, then picked up his coat and put it over his arm. He stepped into his fried shoes and then draped his other arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Don’t, Heath. Please don’t. That’s not going to help this situation.”

His arm fell. “When is the baby due?”

“The third week in August.”

“I’ll arrange through Caldwell to have all of your bills sent to me.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“You’re still my wife. We’ll work out the details later, but I’m not going to have you scrimping along here while you’re carrying this baby.”

“All right.”

He looked at her and she felt her heart turn over; he still had the power to turn her insides into putty. She’d better send him on his way, fast.

Ann walked to the door and opened it for him. “Goodbye, Heath,” she said.

“Goodbye.”

Ann waited until she heard his footsteps fade before she started to cry, staring at his smoldering socks on the radiator.

Chapter 12

“Good Lord, you’re as big as a house,” Joan said, laughing delightedly and patting Ann’s tummy. “That baby isn’t going to arrive right now, is it?”

Ann closed the door of her apartment and ushered Joan into the living room, which appeared even smaller than usual with the boxes of baby clothes and receiving blankets stacked against one wall taking up a good deal of the walking space.

“I hope not,” Ann replied. “He’s not supposed to be due for another two weeks.”

“He?”

Ann nodded and smiled. “The ultrasound pictures say that it’s a boy.”

Joan walked around the reclining chair and then stopped short when she saw that it was occupied by a huge stuffed bear. The toy animal was wearing a red corduroy vest and a red-and-blue plaid satin bow. “What in heaven’s name is that?” Joan exclaimed.

“My friend Amy’s contribution. She’s coming for a visit soon and I’ve forbidden her to bring anything else. There’s hardly room for the baby—I’m going to have to move out.”

Joan held up several gaily wrapped gift packages and they both laughed.

“Have a seat. Would you like some iced tea? There’s nothing worse than August in the city,” Ann said.

“Iced tea would be lovely. It’s nice and cool in here, your air conditioner must be efficient.”

“It’s an antique but it works.” Ann returned from the kitchenette with two tall glasses, tea for Joan and mineral water for herself.

“How long are you going to be in New York?” Ann asked, handing Joan her drink.

“Just today. My niece’s wedding is this evening and I’m flying back first thing in the morning. Come on, open that one up. It’s from Daniela and Victor.”

Ann tore off the paper and opened the indicated box to find a hand-crocheted crib blanket, done in shades of pink and blue.

“This is gorgeous,” Ann said, turning it over in admiration. “I’m so helpless with handicrafts.”

“Daniela made it herself.”

“How thoughtful. I’ll send her a note.”

“And that one’s from me.”

Ann opened the box to find an infant outfit trimmed in delicate lace.

“It’s for a boy or a girl, three to six months.”

Ann rose and kissed Joan on the cheek.

“Thank you so much,” she said, blinking rapidly and looking away, fussing with the box to cover her emotion.

“Now, are we going to talk about him, or not?” Joan said, folding her hands.

“How is he?” Ann asked, sitting again and wiping her eyes with her fingers.

“Miserable. He misses you terribly.”

“Has he said so?”

“You know him better than that. He says nothing, pretends that nothing is wrong. He just works twenty-four hours of every day. He and Joe are opening a new marina in Chester City. Have you heard from him at all?”

“He communicates through the lawyer.”

“But isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes. I said so, anyway. I didn’t realize I would be so lonely.” Ann shook her head, her eyes misting again. “I get so weepy, it must by my condition.”

“I think you miss Heath.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then get back together with him.”

“The problems will still be there.”

“But, Annie, do you really want to raise this baby all by yourself?”

Ann sighed and closed her eyes. “I want to raise him with a happy, healthy father. That isn’t Heath. Not now, anyway. I thought if I stayed with him and loved him he would get over the past, but I see now that it will take more than that. But I can’t convince Heath. He would rather turn a blind eye and give up his family than seek the help he needs.”

“I don’t think he’s reasoned all of that out,” Joan said. “He’s just in a lot of pain.”

“And planning to work himself to death to forget it.”

Joan shrugged.

“Is there another woman in his life?” Ann asked, wary of the question but desperate to know.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, he is separated from me.”

“Physically, maybe, but not in his mind.”

Ann bit her lip. “Joan, you must have an opinion. What do you think I should do?”

“Give him another chance?”

Ann didn’t answer.

“Well?”

“I can’t raise a baby in constant turmoil, Joan.”

“Maybe after the child comes, he’ll be different.”

“Why?”

“Fatherhood can have a benign effect. I’ve seen it happen before, believe me.”

“I’d like to believe you.”

“Let’s shelve this depressing subject for the moment. You said on the phone last week that you sold a sequel to your book?”

“I sold the series. I’m going to do three books.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. It’s a commitment on the part of the publisher, anyway.”

“They must think you’re very talented.”

“I hope so. I just want to do the kind of work I like.”

“You’ll be a busy mother.”

“Maybe that will help.”

“Help what?”

“To fill the void.”

“Annie, why don’t you call him? I’m sure he’s just waiting for the phone to ring.”

Ann shook her head. “I’m not being stubborn, Joan. I know what will happen. We’ll get together, things will be wonderful for a while, and then something will come up to trigger that rage he’s got bottled up inside him. He’s not going to vent it on me again and he’s not going to vent it on my baby.”

“All right, I understand. I’m poking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“No, you’re not. My mind is made up, that’s all.”

“Fair enough. Now, I was promised lunch and I’m starving. Where’s the food?”

“Step this way,” Ann said, leading Joan to the dining area near the window.

* * * *

Heath hung up the phone and glanced at the date at the top of the notepad on his desk.

Ten days. His baby was due in ten days.

He picked up the phone again and dialed the Jensen’s home number. Joan answered on the fourth ring.

“Joan, it’s Heath.”

“Something told me I might be hearing from you today,” Joan said dryly.

“How is she?”

“Ann is fine.”

“How does she look?”

“Pregnant. Very pregnant.”

“I mean, does she seem well?”

“Yes.”

“Happy?”

Joan hesitated.

“Is she happy?” Heath insisted.

“She’s happy about the baby, that much is true. I know she misses you.”

“Did she say that?”

“Heath, you are not going to conduct an interrogation over the phone. I’m sorry Joe told you I was going to New York, I knew this would happen when I got back.”

“You can’t expect me to be indifferent. Ann’s having my child, isn’t she?”

“There was a time when you didn’t think so.”

“Joan, please. Without the acid commentary, are you sure she’s okay?”

“Yes, Heath, she’s fine.”

“Do you think she might let me come and see the baby when it’s born?”

The plaintive note in his voice almost broke Joan’s heart. “I’m sure she wouldn’t keep you out, Heath. You’re the father.”

“I don’t know. She’s pretty fed up with me.”

“You could take legal action to see the child.”

“I don’t want to start throwing writs at her, that’s not the way to win her back.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s what I’ve wanted since she moved to New York.”

“Then do what she asks.”

“Go into counseling?” he said derisively.

“Why not?”

“That’s for screwups like Ann’s brother.”

“People can be screwed up in different ways. Ann says that Tim is doing very well in this rehabilitation program.”

“He’d better, if he wants to stay out of jail.”

“You should have an equally powerful incentive.”

“I’m not a gambler, for God’s sake. Is that where you think I belong, in group gripe sessions with druggies and drinkers and people who can’t stay away from the roulette wheel?”

“I think you have to do something,” Joan said.

“No, thanks.”

“Then you can stay where you are and watch Ann raise your son from fifteen hundred miles away.”

“Stop lecturing me, Joan.” Then, “My son?”

“I’m sorry, I let that slip.”

“It’s a boy?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence.

“Heath, are you still there?”

“I wonder what he’ll look like.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Joan said, and hung up the phone.

Heath was left with the dial tone blaring in his ear.

* * * *

“Well, here I am, with boiling water,” Amy said, sticking her suitcase through the door and then stepping over it. “Should I don the rubber gloves now?”

“Take it easy, Amy, nothing is happening yet.”

“What a disappointment. I take my vacation time to spend it with you in your hour of need, and you’re just standing there, looking like the fat lady in the circus.”

“Thanks.”

Amy patted Ann’s chubby cheek. “Only kidding.”

“It’s a sensitive subject. I’ve gained thirty-five pounds.”

“Good! You were too skinny.”

“I’d defy anybody to say that now.”

Amy put her suitcase on the sofa and unlocked it, producing a triplicate box of rubber pants, infant size.

“Did I come prepared?” she said, raising one brow.

“I’m impressed.”

Amy, looking slim and tanned in shorts and a halter top, sat back on the sofa and tucked her legs under her.

“Why do they always talk about boiling water for the childbirth scenes in those old movies?” Amy inquired. What the hell is it for, anyway?”

“Damned if I know,” Ann replied. “Sterilization?”

Amy shrugged. Seriously, kiddo, how are you feeling?” she asked.

“Huge.”

“What does your doctor say?”

“She says that everything seems fine and I should be able to have a natural, successful labor.”

“Good.” Amy bit her lip, opened her mouth, then closed it again abruptly.

“Go ahead. You can ask,” Ann said.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Just through the lawyer, Caldwell. Have you seen him in Florida?”

“On television.”

“On television?” Ann asked.

“Some charity drive. I feel like telling him that charity begins at home.”

Ann held up her hand to forestall the commentary. “I know, I know. But I want to ask you a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you call him when the baby’s born? He’ll want to know and there’s really nobody else I trust who’ll be on the scene.”

“What about Tim?”

“He’s under house arrest until he completes his twelve-step program.”

“If I talk to Heath, I can’t promise civility.”

“Amy, be nice.”

“Why? Has Heath been nice?”

“This is a circular argument, Amy, and it’s giving me more indigestion than I already have. Just call him, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now let’s talk about something else.”

“Have you picked out any boy’s names you like?” Amy inquired brightly.

“No. I guess I’m superstitious. I want to make sure the baby’s all right before I even think about names.”