Temporary Bride

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Karl frowned. "Karen said you wanted a baby."

  Shane stood and began to pace. "I did, but not at the expense of her health. She's too young. We can have a baby later, when she's older."

  Karen stared. What was the matter with Karl? Why wasn't he laughing, joking, reminding Shane that it was a little late to change his mind? But he didn't. He was serious as he said, "I'll examine Karen again, of course, but she was in excellent health when I saw her three weeks ago. The decision to abort has to be Karen's, Shane. You can't force her into it."

  Abort! Oh, no, Shane wanted her to have an abortion! It hadn't even occurred to her that that was what he was talking about. She jumped up and a wave of dizziness swept over her as she screamed, "No! Shane, how could you!"

  The dizziness increased and she sank back into the chair. Shane squatted down on his heels beside her and took her hand in his. The lines around his mouth deepened as he said, "Karen, I'm worried about you. You don't just suffer from morning sickness—it never lets up. You can't keep anything down and you've lost nearly ten pounds."

  Karen shook her head, still weak with shock. "It's only temporary, Shane, and you heard Karl—there are shots that will help."

  The desperation in Shane's eyes deepened. "Damn it, honey, if you won't think of yourself, think of the baby! If you can't eat you can't nourish it. It may be born with brain damage, or worse."

  Karen's eyes widened. It wasn't shock she was feeling now, it was horror! He wasn't concerned about her—it was the baby he was worried about. The baby might be damaged and that would be totally unacceptable to him! His son, the heir to his precious business, could never be less than perfect! She tore her hand from his and cringed against the side of the chair.

  "I hate you!" she spat. "You can't stand the thought that your child might be flawed! Rather than face that you want to throw it away and start over with a woman who has the good sense to have an easy pregnancy!"

  He stared at her, his face gray. "Karen, it's not like that!"

  Suddenly, all the fight went out of her. How could she ever hope to win against a man like Shane? Numbly, she allowed herself to be led into Dr. Laird's immaculate examining room. She hardly noticed as the doctor sternly told Shane to leave before he made things any worse, but she was surprised to see Shane obey. She had never been able to tell him anything, and she was his wife! She supposed that this was just one more item that proved that she should never have entered his life in the first place.

  An hour later, Karen had been examined. Dr. Laird gave her a shot to calm the nausea and a bottle of capsules to keep it under control, then took Shane into his office for a private conversation.

  Karen lay on the table feeling numb and lethargic. Probably a result of the tranquilizer, she thought, but she didn't like the feeling of detachment. She wanted to be in control of her emotions, not floating off somewhere on a cloud. Besides, it didn't do a thing to relieve the anguish that was tearing her apart. How could she have been so wrong about Shane? She'd been attracted to him right from the beginning in spite of his overbearing manner and his tendency to control everyone around him. She'd been so sure that under that brusque, businesslike exterior there was a sensitive, compassionate man who was capable of love in spite of his determination not to feel it. Love! He didn't know the meaning of the word! He didn't have a heart, he had a computer, and there was no place in either his life or his business for a son who might have a weakness—who might just be human!

  The nurse came in to help Karen dress and a few minutes later Shane and the doctor came back. Shane put his arm around her waist, but she moved away and walked out of the office. On the way back to the condominium Shane tried to talk to her, but she sat, quiet and unmoving, on her own side of the car until he gave up. When they got back to the apartment he carried her small travel case into the master bedroom. Two hours ago she would have been wildly happy, but now she merely paused in the doorway and said, "I'll be using the guest room, Shane; take my case in there."

  They stayed in San Francisco for five days until they were sure the pills would keep the nausea under control. They did. Karen was no longer sick, but she ate only because Shane insisted. Her appetite was nonexistent. So was her enthusiasm for life. She spoke only when spoken to, slept when she was told to go to bed, and the rest of the time she curled up in front of the television set with a book in her lap but looked at neither of them. She felt disembodied, detached from herself, like a spectator aware of what was going on but taking no part in it.

  Shane looked pale and drawn. He talked to her, trying vainly to interest her in something, anything, but although she listened carefully she made no effort to keep up her end of the conversation. Finally he asked her if she'd like to go home to Carmel. The idea appealed to her. She loved the house on the side of the cliff overlooking the wide, cool Pacific.

  They went home and Karen was happier. She had Taffy, who didn't know the meaning of depression. Shane had apparently asked Taffy for help because she coaxed Karen to eat, took her for walks, and insisted they go shopping in Carmel. Gradually Karen began to emerge from the shocklike state that had kept her prisoner. She could talk with Taffy about everything but her problems with Shane.

  Then Mark arrived.

  Mark was the only person who knew the truth about Shane and Karen's marriage and he was the only one she could discuss it with, but she'd had no time alone with Mark since her wedding day. She suspected that he was avoiding her, not so much because of his disapproval of their arrangement as because he knew how possessive Shane was toward her and didn't want to incur his wrath.

  One day, two weeks after the scene in the doctor's office, Mark arrived at the house with a briefcase full of important business papers and spent the day closeted with Shane in the office. At dinner that evening his conversation was directed mainly at Karen and was put in such a way that she would have been rude if she hadn't responded. The talk centered around general topics and she began to forget her depression as her interest was captured. After desert, however, she excused herself and went into the library.

  The library was her favorite room and she'd spent a lot of time there lately. It was the room that had brought her to Shane's magnificent home on the Monterey Peninsula and for a while she'd been happy there. She didn't have the energy or the interest to continue her cataloguing, but she loved to sit on the red velour sofa and look at the row upon row of handsomely bound books. She didn't feel quite so lonely there.

  She'd been sitting there only a few minutes when the door opened and Mark entered and shut it behind him. He was alone and didn't wait to be asked before sitting down on the couch beside her. He had a tall drink in each hand and offered her one as he took a sip of the other. She took hers and sank back against the cushions but said nothing. Mark spoke first.

  "Karen, I want to know what's going on here. You've lost all your sparkle. You only go through the motions of being alive and Shane looks like he's been dragged through the desert."

  Karen shrugged. "I'm sorry Shane has to suffer. He's afraid the baby will be damaged because of my illness and he wants no part of an imperfect child."

  Mark stared at her then exploded. "Where on earth did you get an idea like that?"

  She answered with another question. "Do you know he wanted me to have an abortion?" She didn't dare add what she thought to herself: And still does.

  Mark nodded. "I know he suggested it—" Karen started to interrupt and he hurried on, "All right, I suppose he demanded it, but you know Shane, honey. He's used to issuing orders and having them obeyed and he was desperately concerned for you!"

  She set her glass on the coffee table. "Has he been discussing this with you?"

  "Yes, he has," Mark confessed. "He'll do anything to pull you out of this lethargy you're mired in—even confide in me—and that was quite a concession because he knows how I feel about you."

  She shifted uncomfortably. "Please, Mark—"

  He held up a hand for silence. "Don't worry, I'm
not here on my own behalf. Karen, you know I did everything I could to keep you from marrying Shane. I told you it would take someone tougher and more mature than you to weather a marriage based on Shane's idiotic proposal, and you've proved me right. At the first sign of trouble you fall completely apart."

  Karen drew a sharp breath of protest but Mark continued. "I'll admit Shane needs to be taken down a peg once in a while but, honey, do you have to torture him?"

  It had been weeks since Karen had felt any emotion but now it was pure outrage that coursed through her. The nerve of him suggesting that she was at fault when it was Shane who wanted to get rid of the baby! She drew herself up and exploded in righteous indignation.

  "Me torture him? I should have known you wouldn't understand! Do you want me to have an abortion just so he can have peace of mind?"

  The brief outburst over, she slumped against the cushions. "If Shane loved me I could understand and even be flattered that he preferred me to the baby, but he doesn't care about me. All he cares about is providing a fine healthy specimen of manhood to carry on his wonderful business."

  Mark snorted with frustration. "Karen, how can you be so obtuse? Of course Shane loves you! Oh, he won't admit it, even to himself, but no woman can torment a man the way you're tormenting Shane if he doesn't love her, want her, need her. Grow up, little girl, and stop giving Shane good reason to be afraid to love you!"

  He slammed his glass down on the coffee table as he turned and stalked out of the room.

  Karen didn't join Shane and Mark in the den but went upstairs to bed. Mark's taunts had cut through the fog of bitterness that had enveloped her lately and hit their mark. Why did she go on loving Shane when she knew what a monster he was? But was he really as bad as she pictured him? He'd always been concerned about her—in fact, it was his concern for her after her house burned down that had caused him to agree to marry her, so why did she find it impossible to believe it was his concern for her that made him want her to have an abortion?

  She rolled to the other side of the bed and punched the pillow, trying to get comfortable. A door opened and closed and she knew it was Shane coming into the bedroom next door. She pictured him as he had been at dinner, dressed in gray slacks and a navy blue blazer. For the first time she realized that his shoulders had slumped wearily and he had only picked at his food. He was losing weight and she could see what she hadn't noticed before: his face was drawn and haggard and there were deep circles under his eyes.

  She heard him in the bathroom running water, brushing his teeth. Was he really suffering as Mark said? She'd been so sunk in her own misery she hadn't even noticed how he was feeling.

  She sat up and turned on the bedside light. The hands on the clock radio pointed to midnight. She'd been wrestling with her feelings for Shane for over two hours. They couldn't go on like this; they had to get things straightened out before they both came unglued. She slid out of bed and walked, barefoot and wearing only a sleeveless, low-cut nightgown, through the bathroom and into Shane's room.

  The room was dark but the light from her room provided enough illumination for her to find her way around without stumbling. There was a movement on the bed and Shane's voice called, "Is that you, Karen?"

  She walked to the bed and stood looking down at him. "Yes, Shane, can we talk?"

  It was too dark to see his expression, but he propped himself up on his elbow and said, "That's all I've wanted the past two weeks—just a chance to sit down with you and talk."

  She sat on the side of the bed. "Why do you want to get rid of our baby?"

  She heard his sharp intake of breath but he didn't move. "I don't, now that you're no longer sick, but it tore me apart to stand by while you lost weight you didn't have to spare. I had no intention of standing by and letting you ruin your health just to give me a child."

  Karen shivered and realized that she was cold as she rubbed her bare arms with her hands. Shane threw back the covers and said, "You'd better get under the blanket—you mustn't catch cold."

  She crawled into his big bed and snuggled down under the silken sheet and heavy blanket, but he made no move to touch her. Her green eyes studied the face she could see only dimly.

  Then he brushed a strand of hair away from her face and his voice broke as he said, "Don't torture me anymore, Karen. I don't think I can stand it!"

  With a little cry she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her.

  The next two months were a continuation of their interrupted honeymoon. They gave several small parties and were entertained in return. The only flaw in Karen's happiness was the presence of Audrey, who showed up at all the gatherings. She was always overly friendly toward Shane but never got out of line. There was nothing definite Karen could complain about but somehow Audrey always made her feel like a teenager making a fool of herself around the grown-ups. When Karen's child got large enough to round out her figure it was always Audrey who made caustic little remarks like, "Karen, are you sure you're not gaining weight too fast?" or "Really, dear, you shouldn't pour yourself into jeans now that your tummy is protruding so."

  Shane, however, was frankly delighted by the new fullness of her breasts and the roundness of her derriere, and he handled her gently but with passion. When the need became apparent he sent her back to the couturier who had supplied her trousseau and had custom-designed maternity clothes made for her.

  Karen was so happy it seemed almost too good to last. It was.

  She was six months pregnant in April when the first rift appeared in the person of a Mr. Homer Green, who called one day when Shane was out and said he had urgent business and must see Shane as soon as possible. Karen gave him an appointment for the following morning. Shane was as mystified as she was when she told him of the call.

  Mr. Green appeared promptly the next morning. He was a short, bald, well-dressed man, who introduced himself as an attorney from a well-known law firm in San Francisco. He assured them that his business concerned both Mr. and Mrs. McKittrick, since it was a family matter. They went into the office and Mr. Green got right to the point.

  "Mr. McKittrick, it's my unpleasant duty to inform you that your mother, Katherine McKittrick Durrell, died of a cerebral hemorrhage two weeks ago in Orleans, France."

  Karen gasped and felt Shane stiffen beside her, but his voice was cold as he said, "What has this to do with me?"

  Mr. Green didn't seem surprised as he answered, "I understand you had been estranged for some time. However, she left you a substantial inheritance, which I have been instructed to turn over to you." He reached into his expensive leather briefcase and withdrew some legal-looking papers.

  Shane's face was stony. "I gather she had remarried?"

  Mr. Green nodded. "She was a widow. Monsieur Durrell died two years ago. He was an artist—quite well known in France, I understand. Part of your mother's estate is paintings, which I'm told will bring a handsome sum when sold."

  Shane made a tight, jerky motion with his hands. "I don't want them. I don't want anything from her!"

  "Shane, darling." Karen moved closer to Shane on the couch and put her arm through his. "This has upset you. Maybe Mr. Green can come back tomorrow."

  Shane glanced down at her and there was no warmth in the look. "Karen, it's not necessary for you to stay. Since I haven't seen my mother since before you were born, this can hardly concern you. Run along and I'll join you in a few minutes."

  His dismissal hurt. She wanted to be with him, to ease the pain she knew he was feeling even if he wouldn't admit it. She rubbed her cheek against his arm and said, "But I want to stay."

  He pulled away from her and stood. "I'd rather you left, Karen."

  She had no choice but to bid Mr. Green goodbye and leave.

  Shane and Mr. Green were closeted together for nearly two hours. Karen took her daily walk around the estate and returned to the house just as Mr. Green was getting into his car.

  Karen knocked on the door of Shane's office and went i
n. Shane was sitting behind the desk, looking off into space. She quickly crossed to him and put her arms around him, holding his head against her breast. He didn't protest but neither did he relax and enjoy her caresses as he usually did. She leaned down and kissed him as she said, "I'm sorry about your mother, Shane. Is there anyone who should be notified? Can I help?"

  His arms circled her waist, but instead of answering her questions he said, "I've arranged for her estate to be liquidated and the money given to various charities."

  She drew back in surprise. "But Shane—"

  He jerked away angrily. "Oh, don't worry, I have plenty of money! You and the baby won't be deprived of anything!"

  She blinked, unsure of what had brought on that outburst. "Shane! I wasn't even thinking of such a thing! I just thought that if she wanted you to have the money—"

  He turned back to his desk and riffled through some papers as he muttered, "I don't want to talk about it. I have work to do, Karen. Would you mind leaving me alone?"

  With a quick movement and a few sharp words he had shut her out again and she felt numb with despair.

  That night after they'd gone to bed Shane kissed her and turned away from her. It happened again the second night, and by the third day, Sunday, Karen was frantic. She couldn't stand his coldness and decided to try to find out what was wrong. After lunch she suggested that they go into the den, where they could talk.

  It was Shane who took charge of the conversation, however. He set his coffee cup on the redwood burl table and said, "Your pregnancy seems to be progressing normally now, Karen. You haven't been sick for weeks and Karl Laird says you are healthy and carrying the baby well."

  Karen smiled. "Yes, I feel fine. I told you there was no need to worry."

  "Yes, well," Shane stood and walked over to the fireplace, "I find I can't run the business from here. I'm going to have to spend part of my time in San Francisco."

  "That's all right—I don't mind living there part of the time," she said. "Maybe we can see some plays."