Thorne's Way

by Joan Hohl

  “No.” Jonas said bluntly, grimly. “But I knew that when I asked her to marry me.” A teasing smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “Any other questions, nosey kid?”

  “No.” Mary Beth shook her head. “And I’m sorry, Dad, I wasn’t prying, honestly.”

  Jonas smoked one cigarette after the other as the minutes dragged slowly by.

  “Why don’t you go on home, sweetheart,” he told Mary Beth as he crushed out his fourth. Then, immediately lighting another, he rasped, “Where the hell is Milt?”

  And at that moment, as if in answer to his question, Milt Abramowitz pushed open the waiting room door.

  “She’s all right,” he said at once. “But we lost the baby. I’m sorry, Jonas.”

  Expelling his breath slowly, Jonas nodded. “I am too. Are you sure Valerie’s going to be all right?”

  Even though Milt heard the anxious edge in Jonas’s tone, he snapped, “Do I question your knowledge of electronics? She is weak, but she will be fine.”

  “Okay, Milt, I’m sorry. But what took so long?”

  “I work slow, but I work neat,” Milt drawled in a tone that had infuriated more than one of his patients’ husbands.

  Jonas was not infuriated. Like Milt, he didn’t like his judgment questioned by a layman either. “I said I was sorry, Milt. May I see her?”

  “In a few minutes. And I’m sorry too,” Milt sighed. “I sometimes get frustrated when I can’t do anything to save a baby a woman wants very badly.” He sighed again. “At least there was no permanent damage.”

  “She can have more children?”

  “Yes,” Milt assured Jonas, then cautioned. “But not right away. Be careful for a while.”

  He turned to leave and Jonas said softly, “Thanks, Milt.”

  Turning back, Milt threw him a wide, crooked-toothed grin. “You’ll get my bill.”

  Chapter 12

  Valerie lay unmoving on the bed ignoring the tears that rolled down her face. Her baby was gone, leaving in its stead an emptiness; not only in her body, but in her mind, as well. She didn’t move an inch when the door to her room opened, but a spark of recognition entered her eyes when Jonas crossed her line of vision.

  “Valerie, why are you crying? Are you in pain?” Jonas asked sharply.

  His tone was too sharp; the flow of tears doubled.

  “Valerie, answer me!” he ordered. “If you’re in pain I’ll get Milt.”

  “What’s wrong with me, Jonas?” Valerie whispered as he reached for the button to ring for the nurse.

  “Wrong?” Jonas repeated confusedly; surely she knew that the baby was gone? “Nothing’s wrong Val. Milt assured me, not ten minutes ago, that you will be fine. All you need is rest.”

  “No,” her head moved restlessly on the pillow. “What’s wrong with me? Why do I lose everyone I love?”

  “Valerie, stop,” Jonas said softly. Bending over he clasped her upper arms gently. “You can have ano…”

  “First my father,” she cried over his quiet, unheard voice. Then my mother. Then my grandparents. Then…then Etienne,” she sobbed, unmindful of the tightening of his fingers. “And now my baby.” Gazing up at his blurred features, she cried, “Why, Jonas, why? What have I done that I must be punished this way?”

  “That’s nonsense,” he said in a crooning tone. “You aren’t being punished.”

  “Then why do I lose everyone I love?” she choked. “Even y—” Valerie caught back the word “you” just in time; she was distraught, but not that distraught. He had never been hers to lose. “Even my b-baby,” she wailed.

  “It was an accident,” he soothed. “A stupid accident.” Sitting down on the side of the bed he gathered her into his arms and held her shaking body close to his chest.

  “Jonas, I’m never going to hold my baby in my arms,” Valerie sobbed.

  “Our baby,” he admonished softly. His meaning was lost on Valerie, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. For a fleeting moment Jonas hesitated, then, kicking off his handmade loafers, he slid onto the bed beside her and pulled her tightly against him. “Hush,” he crooned. “I’m here. Rest, Val. I’ll hold you while you rest.”

  Slowly, comforted by his crooning voice and his hand gently smoothing back her hair, Valerie stopped crying. Secure in his arms, lulled by his even breathing, she was beginning to drift into sleep when the door opened and she heard a nurse exclaim:

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Get out of here, nurse,” Jonas growled softly.

  The nurse gasped then sputtered, “But you…you can’t lie on the bed like that. If you don’t get up—at once—I’ll have to call security and have you removed.”

  Stirring fitfully, Valerie felt tears come to her eyes again. It was childish, she knew, but right now his arms were a haven she needed very badly, a haven she was not yet ready to leave.

  “Don’t go away.” Valerie’s plea sounded every bit as insecure as the need that prompted it.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Jonas assured her softly. Then he said with hard authority, “Nurse, call Doctor Abramowitz and tell your tale of woe to him. You can also tell him that I said I’m not moving. Now get out of here.”

  “But…” the nurse got no further, for Jonas was not about to argue.

  “Out.”

  His bark sent the nurse into retreat with a rustle of her starched skirt and a grumble about arrogant men. That she would call Milt, Valerie had very little doubt. That Milt would more than likely tell her to keep out of the room, Jonas had very little doubt.

  Loosening his hold on her, he murmured, “Move over,” and when she had done so he settled his long length more comfortably in the narrow bed. Then, drawing her close to him again, he ordered softly, “Now go to sleep, Val. I’ll be here.”

  * * *

  When she woke, some three hours later, she was alone in the bed. Jonas was gone, leaving her to wonder if, perhaps, in her sedated, befuddled state, she had imagined he’d been there in the first place. Her mind now clear and alert, she found it hard to believe he had chosen to defy convention to the point of crawling into a hospital bed with her. Still weary in body, if not in mind, she pushed the speculation aside and rang for a nurse. She felt grubby; she wanted a bath and a hairbrush.

  Determined to get well, if only to get away from the antiseptic smell of the hospital, Valerie recovered swiftly. Surrounded by an entourage consisting of Jonas, Mary Beth, Marge, and Lyle, Valerie left the confines of the hospital on a bright, warm morning in late June, eagerly breathing in the scent of flowers in the fresh air.

  Buoyant with renewed energy, she breezed into the house with a confidence that was immediately shattered by the drawling voice of Lynn Varga.

  “Well, the little near-mother is back. How—ah—nice.”

  “That’s enough, Lynn.” Jonas’s voice, sounding at once both tired and indifferent, slashed across the gasps from Mary Beth and Marge and the muttered curse from Lyle. Turning his back on the elegant form of his first wife, he bent and scooped the now stricken-faced Valerie effortlessly into his arms. As he started up the steps he shot over his shoulder, “If you haven’t enough manners to be pleasant to your hostess, then you’d better leave. Go spend some more of my money on something you don’t need.” He came to a full stop on the landing at the top of the short flight of stairs and stared down into Valerie’s hurt-filled eyes, whispering for her eyes alone, “My—wife—has no use for my money.”

  With those words, all the hope Valerie had allowed herself to begin harboring rushed out of her, leaving her feeling defeated and tired. When she looked away from him without response, Jonas sighed and continued into their bedroom to place her gently on top of the bed. “You’d do well to stay there,” he cautioned, “at least for a day or two.” With that he turned and left.

  They were back to square one, Valerie decided morosely as she listened to the fading sound of his car’s engine. By the end of her first full week at home she was forced to f
ace the fact that things between them were worse now than they had been before her stay in the hospital. At least then they had shared a bed. Now, with her health restored and all physical restrictions removed, Jonas treated her like a guest in the house that was supposedly her home. He was polite. He was considerate. He was a stranger.

  For two weeks Valerie tormented herself with thoughts of what she had thrown away. Over and over she relived the events of that afternoon. Repeatedly she heard his cold voice demanding, “What are you carrying? A young Thorne or another DeBron?” Another DeBron. Valerie shivered. He actually believed that she would…she shivered again. And over and over, the thought growing stronger each time it occurred, Valerie came to the decision that she could not stay with a man who believed her capable of that kind of deceit.

  As the days changed from pleasantly warm to uncomfortably hot Valerie withdrew to the air-conditioned comfort of what was now her bedroom. Jonas had moved into the guest room on the day he brought her home from the hospital, saying he didn’t want to disturb her rest with his comings and goings.

  By the middle of July, feeling rejected, useless and defeated, Valerie seldom came out of her bedroom. And then Jonas announced that he was leaving for Houston the following Monday and had no idea how long he would be gone. Her nails digging into her palm, Valerie turned away from him with a shrug, missing the expression of hopelessness that washed over his face.

  The next morning Janet breezed into Valerie’s bedroom without bothering to knock.

  “Janet!” Valerie exclaimed, “What are you…”

  “Val, honey,” Janet cut her off impatiently. “I know losing this baby was a shock for you, but you absolutely cannot do this to yourself again.”

  Again? Do what again? Valerie, not thinking too clearly, didn’t have the vaguest idea what Janet was talking about. “What do you mean?” she frowned.

  “You know perfectly well what I mean,” Janet retorted. “It’s Paris all over again, isn’t it? I knew it when Mary Beth called me and said you weren’t seeing anyone, not even her and Jean-Paul.” She sighed with exasperation. “Honey, I know how you must feel, but it’s not the same as losing Etienne. You can have another baby.”

  Not by sleeping alone! Valerie thought bitterly. So, they all believed her to be in mourning for her lost child! Did Jonas believe the same? Did it matter anymore?

  “Valerie, talk to me,” Janet demanded. “Don’t close yourself away like this.”

  “It’s not only my baby,” Valerie murmured, groping for a plausible reason for her attitude. Then a germ of an idea stirred. “I…I’m concerned for my mother. She’s due any time now, and, well, she’s not a young woman.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake!” Janet cried. “If that’s what’s bothering you, go see her. I’m sure Jonas would understand.”

  I’m sure Jonas couldn’t care less, Valerie retorted silently. But Janet’s suggestion was a good one. She would go to Australia, and maybe she’d just forget to come back.

  “If I go now,” Valerie said slowly, “I could be with her when the baby comes.”

  “And it would be the perfect time to go.” Janet smiled, satisfied with Valerie’s show of animation. “I mean, since Jonas will be in Houston for at least a week.”

  When Janet left, obviously much easier in her mind about her friend, Valerie coolly picked up the phone and punched out the number to Jonas’s private line.

  “Are you all right?” he said urgently the minute she said hello.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Valerie replied, wondering if his show of concern was genuine. “I…I was wondering if you would be home for dinner tonight?”

  “Are you eating dinner tonight?” he asked quietly. The question was not as strange as it might have seemed. Valerie’s eating habits lately had been erratic and she and Jonas had not shared a meal in nearly two weeks.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “And, if you have time, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “I’ll make time,” Jonas promised. “In fact, I’ll come home early.”

  As she hung up the receiver, Valerie smiled sadly at the thought that she actually had to make an appointment to talk to her husband.

  As she waited uneasily for dinnertime to arrive, Valerie was prey to all sorts of doubts and regrets: What if she had carried the child full term, would his cool manner toward her have warmed? What if she had told him, straight out, that she was in love with him, would he have treated her less like the secretary she had been and more like the wife she supposedly was? If they had discussed the loss of the child and what had precipitated it, would the strain between them have been eased? It was all a pointless exercise in frustration, as there was no way Valerie could answer any of her own questions. Only Jonas himself could do that.

  Thoroughly sick of her own thoughts, Valerie heaved a deep sigh of relief when she heard his car come to a stop in front of the garage. Her pulse beginning to flutter with apprehension, she listened as he took the outside stairs two at a time and strode along the deck to their private entrance. Through the glass his form was bathed in a golden glow from the afternoon sun and she caught her breath in appreciation of the tall, deceptively slim-looking magnificence of him.

  Was she completely out of her mind? she asked herself in wonder. He was a part of her now; the largest part. How could she face a life that did not include the sight of him each day? Oh, wasn’t there some way she could remain with him?

  Jonas began speaking even as he closed the door behind him.

  “If you’ve called me home to tell me that you are pregnant again, I swear I’ll strangle you, Valerie.”

  “That I’m…” Valerie gasped, totally missing the underlying note of fear in his voice. “Jonas, you know that isn’t possible, we haven’t even…” She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening. He had done it again! Not as crudely this time, but every bit as hurtfully. What did he hope to gain with these groundless accusations? Good Lord, she had only left the hospital a little over a month ago! She had not even been out of the house except to have lunch with Mary Beth and Jean-Paul at the end of her first week home. Jean-Paul! He still believed that she and Jean-Paul… Valerie shuddered, refusing even to finish the thought. Biting back the outraged protest she longed to fling at him, she forced her tone into cool unconcern.

  “The reason I requested a moment of your precious time,” she managed acidly, “was to inform you of my plans.”

  “Plans?” Jonas repeated warily. “What plans?”

  “I—” Valerie hesitated, then plunged. “I’m going to Australia to be with my mother when she delivers.”

  “You’re worried about her?”

  Why, she wondered, did he have to voice even the most simple of questions in such an arrogant, demanding tone? “Of course I’m worried,” she snapped, refusing to let him see how his tone had hurt her. “She’s past the safe childbearing age. If,” she swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat, “there is a safe childbearing age. She put on a good act the last time I talked to her on the phone, but she’s scared, I know it, and I want to be with her.”

  “All right, Val.” Jonas surprised her by agreeing. “You may go. I’ll give you one month longer.”

  I may? Valerie seethed. I may? Big deal! Would this man never stop treating her like one of the employees? “I didn’t ask for your permission, Jonas,” Valerie flared. “I have reservations to fly to San Francisco tomorrow afternoon whether you approve or…” Valerie’s voice faded as his last statement registered. “What do you mean, you’ll give me one month longer?”

  “Exactly what I say,” Jonas retorted grimly. “One month to the day that you walk out of this house I will expect you to walk back in again.”

  “But—” Valerie paused, searching for words. What was he up to now? They had barely spoken to each other in weeks. Was he attempting to exercise his authority over her now? The very idea angered her. “Why do you persist in speaking to me as though I was still your secretary?”
she demanded. “I am leaving this house tomorrow. I will come back when I’m ready…if at all.” Head up, back straight, she started for the door.

  Long, hard fingers curled around her upper arm to bring her to a stumbling halt. Pulling her to him he slid the fingers and palm of his other hand along her jaw, holding her head still. “If you know what’s good for you, you will do as you’re told,” he murmured menacingly, his fingers spearing into the hair behind her ear. “I said you have one month and that is exactly what I meant.” Using the heel of his hand, he jerked her head up so he could see her eyes. “Do you understand?”

  “You don’t frighten me,” Valerie lied, trying to pull her head away from his hand.

  “No?” Jonas smiled humorlessly. Slowly, deliberately, he dug his fingers into her scalp, pressing against the side of her face with his palm. “You’d be wise to be a little frightened, Val.” His hand exerted more pressure.

  Sucking in a quick gasp, Valerie stared at him mutely, disbelievingly. Never before had Jonas used his superior strength to deliberately hurt her. Angry, stubbornly refusing to cry out against the pain, Valerie glared at him rebelliously. Jonas was obviously unimpressed.

  “One month, Valerie,” Jonas growled as he lowered his head to hers. “And if you are not here at the end of that month, I will come after you.”

  His mouth came down onto hers, driving the breath back into her throat. For a second, panicked, Valerie struggled to tear her lips from under his. Releasing her arm, he slid his freed hand around her waist as he turned his body to hers. Spreading his fingers, he moved his hand down to the base of her spine, then, drawing her body against his, he coiled his long fingers around her neck.

  His hand was still hurtful, but in a new, strangely sensuous way. The deep core of passion that only this man could tap answered the demand his hardened, aroused body was making on hers. Moaning softly, deep in her throat, she encircled his waist with her arms and arched herself to him.

  “You will come back in a month, won’t you?” Jonas demanded, dropping biting kisses on her lips as he spoke.