She thanked the editor in chief for her generosity, and went to pack up her office. They would need it for someone else while she was gone, and it only took her an hour to box it all up and send it downstairs to her car with their porter. And on her way out, she stopped in to see Eloise. She was just taking a soufflé out of the oven.
“God, that looks good.” The air was heavy with the perfume of her cooking, and when Eloise saw her she smiled.
“So do you. I haven’t seen you in ages. Got time for a cup of coffee?”
“Just a quick one.”
“You got it.”
Diana sat down at the counter, and a moment later Eloise handed her a steaming cup and a small dish with some of the souffle on it.
“I’m not sure about this recipe, try it and see what you think.”
Diana took one bite and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “This is sinful.”
“Good.” Eloise was pleased. “So what’s new with you?” She knew what a tough time Diana had had in the past year, they had met occasionally and Diana had filled her in. But she had looked grim through most of it, and she had also withdrawn from everyone she knew. She and Eloise had drifted apart then, but Diana still liked her. “You’re looking good,” Eloise complimented her. Diana had been looking good ever since she got back with Andy. She seemed to put her life back together then, and her happiness no longer seemed to depend on whether or not she had a baby. But she seemed more serious than she had been. Inevitably, there were scars from what she’d been through.
“Thanks.” Diana looked mischievous as she sipped her coffee. “We had a baby this weekend.” She grinned as Eloise’s jaw dropped.
“You what? Did I hear you correctly?”
“You did.” Diana beamed. “A little girl named Hilary. She was born on Sunday, and we’re going to adopt her.”
“Well, good for you!” Eloise looked thrilled for her. It was the ultimate gift, and she knew how much they would love that baby.
“They just gave me five months’ maternity leave. But I’ll be back. You can come and visit, and I’ll be back by the end of the year. Just don’t give up cooking.”
“I won’t.” Eloise looked at her ruefully. “But I won’t be cooking here. I just accepted a job in New York. I gave notice this morning. I’m leaving in two weeks. I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you.”
“I’m going to miss you,” Diana said quietly. She had a lot of respect for Eloise, and she was sorry she hadn’t gotten to know her even better, but so much had been happening in her own life for the past year. There hadn’t been much room for friendships, and Eloise understood that.
“I’ll miss you too. You’ll have to come visit me in New York. But I want to see the baby before I go. I’ll call you this week.”
“Terrific.” Diana finished her coffee and gave her a hug, and Eloise promised to come by that weekend, and on the drive home, Diana thought of her and how much she’d miss the magazine while she was gone. But by the time she got home, her thoughts were filled with her baby, and the magazine that had once consumed every moment of her time might as well have been on another planet.
In May, Charlie and Beth had known each other for three months, and he felt as though he had known her for a lifetime. They could talk about anything, and he spent a lot of time telling her about his childhood, and how it had affected him, and as a result, how strongly he felt about families and having a home. He told her about his disappointment with Barbara, and how hurt he was that she had left him. But he understood it better now. He’d thought about it a lot, and he was starting to realize that it had been a mismatch.
But there was still one thing he hadn’t told her, and he wasn’t sure he ever could. All he knew was that he had no right to marry again, but as long as it never got to that point, he didn’t have to tell her. She didn’t need to know that he was sterile.
He liked her too much to tell her the truth. He was afraid he’d lose her. He had lost too much in his life, too many people he cared about, to risk losing Beth and Annie.
They spent Mother’s Day together, and he took them to brunch in Marina Del Rey. He had taken Annie out to buy Beth flowers first, and Annie had made her a beautiful card at school. That afternoon they went to the beach, and they laughed and played and talked. He was wonderful with the little girl, and when Annie was off playing with some other children on the beach, Beth looked at him and casually asked the million-dollar question.
“How come you never had kids, Charlie?” she asked casually, as she lay with her head on his chest, on the sand, and she felt him stiffen when she asked the question.
“I don’t know. No time, no money.” It didn’t sound like him, and he had already told her that one of his disagreements with his wife was that she didn’t want children. He had also explained that she’d gotten pregnant by someone else, and that had ended their marriage. He hadn’t gone into the details, that he’d been willing to accept the child, and she’d already had an abortion when he told her. “I don’t think I’ll ever marry again,” he said slowly. “In fact, I know I won’t,” he said, and she turned to look at him with a shy smile. She hadn’t been fishing for a proposal She was merely curious about his past, and interested in everything about him.
“That wasn’t what I asked you. Don’t be so uptight. I wasn’t proposing to you. I asked why you never had kids.” She looked perfectly relaxed, but she could see then that he didn’t. She wondered if she had said something wrong, and then slowly he sat up, and she sat up and watched him. There was no point kidding her. He liked her too much. And it would have been wrong to lead her on, and then disappear one day, which he’d thought of doing. He decided he might as well tell her now. She had a right to know who she was wasting her time with.
“I can’t have kids, Beth. I found out six months ago, just before Christmas. They did a bunch of tests, and to make a long story short, it turns out I’m sterile. It was quite a shock,” he said, still looking devastated by what he told her. And he was terrified of what she’d do now. Probably leave him, like everyone else had. But telling her was the right thing to do, and he knew it.
“Oh, Charlie …” she said sympathetically, sorry she’d asked him. She reached out a hand to touch his, but this time he didn’t take her hand in his own, and he suddenly looked oddly distant.
“Maybe I should have told you sooner, but it’s not exactly the sort of thing you want to tell someone on a first date.” Or ever.
“No.” And then she smiled gently, and teased him a little. “You could have said something, though, and saved us both a lot of trouble with precautions.” They had been using condoms, which they both knew was a good idea these days in a new relationship, but she had also used a diaphragm, and he had never told her not to, which seemed funny to her now, but not to Charlie. “Never mind,” she said softly, and then she frowned. “So what’s this bit about never getting married again? What’s that all about?”
“I don’t think I have the right to get married, Beth. Look at you, you have a beautiful little girl, you should have more children.”
“Who says I’d even want them? Or even can have them.” She looked at him wisely.
“Wouldn’t you? Can’t you?” He was surprised, she loved Annie so much that it was hard to imagine her not wanting more children.
“Yes, I can have more children,” she said honestly. “I guess it would depend on who I married, if I did. But to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want more. Annie is enough for me. I never really thought of having more than Annie. But I’d be perfectly happy having just Annie. I was an only child, it didn’t do me any harm. And in some ways, it’s a lot simpler. I couldn’t afford another one right now anyway. Sometimes I barely have enough to feed me and Annie.” He knew that, and he had been doing what he could to bring her little gifts, and groceries, and take them out whenever they could make it.
“But if you married again, you’d want more children. So would anyone … so would I …” he said sadly. �
�One day I’d like to adopt some. I’ve been saving some money this year so I could adopt a little boy. They allow single-parent adoptions now, and I want to find a kid just like I was, stuck in some miserable institution with no one to love him. I want to change his life for him, and maybe for some more kids, if I can afford it.”
“How many were you thinking of adopting?” she asked nervously.
“Two … three … I don’t know. It’s a dream of mine. I used to think of that even when I thought I could have my own children.”
“Are you sure you can’t have your own?” she asked solemnly.
“Positive. I went to an important guy in Beverly Hills, and he says there’s no chance. I think he’s probably right too. I’ve taken a lot of chances in my life, especially when I was young, and nothing’s ever happened.”
“It’s no big deal, you know,” she said quietly. She was sorry for him, but she didn’t think it was the end of the world, and she hoped he didn’t either. And it certainly didn’t change her opinion of his manhood, which was most impressive.
“It shook the hell out of me for a while,” he explained. “I always wanted kids of my own, and I was trying so hard to get Barb pregnant to save our marriage.” And then suddenly he laughed at the irony. “In the end, someone else beat me to it.” It didn’t bother him as much anymore though. He was sad it hadn’t worked out with Barb, but in the past few months he had become philosophical about all that, especially since he’d met Beth and Annie. The only thing that bothered him now was that the love he felt for Beth could go nowhere. He still believed, no matter what she said, that he had no right to marry her and deprive her of more children. She was young now, but she might well want more later.
“I don’t think you should let it bother you,” she said honestly. “I think any woman who really loves you would understand and wouldn’t give a damn if you could have kids or not.”
“You think so?” He looked surprised and they lay down in the sand again, with her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure you’re right,” he said quietly, after thinking about it for a moment.
“Yes, I am. I wouldn’t give a damn.”
“You should,” he said, sounding fatherly. “Don’t limit your future, you’re too young to do that,” he said firmly, and she sat up again and looked down at him sternly.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Charlie Winwood. I can do anything I damn well want, and I can tell you right now, I wouldn’t give a damn if you were sterile.” She said it loudly and firmly and he winced, and looked around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to them, and Annie was nowhere near them.
“Why don’t we put it on billboards?”
“Sorry.” She looked mollified and lay down next to him again. “But I mean that.”
He rolled over on his stomach then on the sand, and cupped his face in his hands, as he watched her lying near him. “Do you really mean that, Beth?”
“I do.”
That changed a lot of things for him, and it made him think seriously about their future, but it seemed wrong to marry a young girl like her, and not be able to give her babies. He knew there were sperm donors, of course, Pattengill had suggested that for him and Barb, but Charlie also knew he’d never do that. But if she meant what she said, maybe Annie was enough … or they could adopt some kids. He lay on the sand smiling at her, and then without saying another word, he rolled over and kissed her.
On their anniversary that year, their second one, Andy and Diana stayed home, because there was no one she trusted the baby with, and she was just as happy going nowhere.
“You’re sure?” Andy felt a little guilty not taking her out, but he had to admit he didn’t mind staying home with his wife and baby.
Diana was enjoying her time off from work, she was spending all her time with Hilary, and she was trying to figure out what to do when her leave was over. She liked being at home, but she was starting to think that she might like to go back to work eventually, maybe part time. She was even thinking about getting another job, one with more flexible hours. But she still had three months to make her mind up.
Andy was busier than ever at the office now, with new series, new stars, new contracts.
And Bill Pennington had taken a long leave. Denise had had the baby early, at the end of May, and there had been complications, but the baby was home now, and they were ecstatic.
Diana had visited her, and tried to help her out. She felt like an old hand now, after two months. She got a lot of advice from Gayle and Sam, and she got a lot of help from an excellent pediatrician. And the rest of the time, she followed her instincts. Most of child rearing seemed to be common sense. Her father had said that to her the first time he came to see the baby. And when he first saw her, he cried. It meant so much to him to know that his own child was at peace now. He held Diana for a long time in his arms, as tears rolled down his cheeks, and then he smiled at the baby.
“You did a good job,” he said, and Diana suddenly wondered if he’d forgotten she hadn’t given birth to her, and that worried her. It would have been the first sign that he was failing. And so far he wasn’t.
“Daddy, I didn’t have her,” she reminded him cautiously, and he chuckled.
“I know that, silly girl. But you found her and brought her home. She’s a blessing for all of us, not just for you and Andy.” He had stood and looked at her for a long time, and then he had stooped to kiss her. A little while later he left, after assuring Hilary’s parents that she was the prettiest baby he’d ever seen. And he sounded as though he meant it.
They had christened the baby at the beginning of June, and celebrated at Diana’s parents’ house in Pasadena. These days, everything seemed to revolve around the baby. So much so that Andy thought Diana was looking exhausted. It was partially lack of sleep, every night she got up three or four times, and for the first month, Hilary had had a lot of colic. But now she was fine, the one who wasn’t was Diana. And the night of their anniversary, when they stayed home, Andy noticed that Diana didn’t even bother to put on makeup. Seeing her looking so beat almost made him sorry they’d given up the beach house Diana had rented during their separation. They loved it, but now, with Hilary, they couldn’t afford it.
“You feeling okay?” He looked worried about her, but at least she seemed happy.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Hilary got up every two hours last night.”
“Maybe you should get someone in to help you, you know, a nice au pair.”
“Never mind that.” She pretended to glower at him. She wasn’t letting anyone take care of their baby. She had waited too long for this, and paid too dearly with her soul to let another woman even touch her. The only one she allowed to help her was her husband.
“I’ll do bottle duty tonight. You get some sleep. You need it.”
He cooked dinner for her that night, while she put the baby down. And they talked for a long time afterward about how their life had changed, and how far they had come in two years. It was hard even to remember a time when Hilary hadn’t been with them.
They went to bed early that night, and Andy wanted to make love, but Diana was asleep before he came out of the bathroom. He stood for a moment and smiled at her, and then he gently put the baby’s basket next to his side of the bed, so he’d hear her when she woke up for her next feeding.
But the next morning, after a good night’s sleep, Diana looked worse. And she looked absolutely green when he poured her a cup of coffee.
“I think I’ve got the flu,” she complained, and then worried about giving it to the baby. “Maybe I should wear a mask,” she said, and he laughed.
“Listen, she’s more durable than that. And if you have the flu, she’s already been exposed anyway.” It was Saturday and he volunteered to take care of the baby all day. Diana slept all afternoon, and she looked groggy that night when she cooked him dinner, and he noticed that she didn’t eat anything. She just wasn’t hungry.
By Monday, nothing had changed. S
he had no temperature but she looked like hell. And he told her when he left for work to call the doctor.
“Don’t count on it,” she said, looking exhausted again, and he hadn’t really seen her eat all weekend. “I never want to see another doctor for the rest of my life.”
“I didn’t say call a gynecologist, I said call a doctor.” But she absolutely refused to. And some days she looked okay, others she looked worse; sometimes it depended on how much sleep she got, sometimes it didn’t. But worrying about her was driving him up the wall, and she absolutely refused to listen.
“Look, stupid,” he finally said to her in July, just before their family picnic on the fourth in Pasadena, “Hilary and I need you. You’ve been feeling lousy for a month, now go do something about it. You’re probably anemic from being up all night and never eating.”
“How do normal mothers do it? They seem to do fine. Sam doesn’t go around dragging ass.” It depressed her to feel as lousy as she did, but she had to admit that a lot of the time now she really felt rotten. And at their family picnic the next day, Andy spoke to his brother-inlaw, Jack, and told him to push Diana into seeing a doctor.
Jack managed to catch a few minutes alone with her, after lunch, when she was feeding the baby. “Andy’s worried about you,” he said bluntly.
“He shouldn’t be. I’m fine.” She tried to brush him off, but he wasn’t that easy to get rid of, and Andy had warned him, and urged him to be persistent.
Mixed Blessings Page 28
