Heartbeat

by Danielle Steel

  “Let's do something else,” she announced with a wicked gleam in her eye as she attacked him.

  “Adrian … be serious! Stop it!”

  “I am serious!” But not about breathing.

  “That's what got you into this in the first place.”

  “Maybe you've got a point.” She tried to roll over on her stomach but she couldn't get far. The lump, as she referred to it at times, seemed to be getting bigger by the hour. And it was extremely peppy, she could feel kicks almost constantly, especially at night, and it only seemed to relax in the early morning. “Maybe I'll just stay pregnant. It's too much trouble to get this thing out.” It was like building an ocean liner in the basement.

  “I wouldn't mind seeing you skinny again,” he said wistfully, “you had kind of a cute figure when I met you.”

  “Thanks,” she said to him, rolling onto her back like a beached whale. Lying like that, she looked absolutely enormous. “You don't like my figure now?” She was half serious, and he knew he had to be careful. He lay next to her, on his stomach, and propped himself up on his elbows as he kissed her.

  “I happen to think you're the most beautiful woman I know, pregnant or not.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and tears came to her eyes, and then she put her arms around his neck like a child, and the tears brimmed over. “I'm scared,” she confessed, and she touched his heart as she said it.

  “I know you are, baby, but it's going to be fine. I promise.”

  “But what if it isn't? What if something happens … to me … or the baby?” It sounded stupid, but she was afraid she was going to die. She kept thinking of the woman in the film, going through awful pain and screaming. No one had ever told her it was going to be like that. She just thought the baby came out, somehow, and that was it. No one had ever admitted that it could be that painful.

  “Nothing's going to happen to you or the baby. I won't let it. I'll be there every second, holding your hand, and helping you. And it'll be over before you know it.”

  “Is it really that bad?” She looked into his eyes earnestly, and he didn't want to tell her how bad it had been for Leslie. It had almost driven him crazy to see it.

  “Not necessarily. I think for some people it's fairly easy.”

  “Yeah. If they have hips like the Panama Canal,” she said sadly, because she didn't.

  “You'll be fine.” He kissed her gently on the lips, and she slipped her hands into his shirt and touched his shoulders. And then she ran her hands down his back, and he felt a tremor of excitement. They were kissing, and she was touching him, and he gently let his hands wander over her body, and then he grinned in the midst of their passion. “I should be shot for molesting a woman in your condition.” The absurdity of it struck him for a moment and then he forgot it.

  “No, you shouldn't,” she teased, and he marveled at how much she still turned him on. He rolled over on his back and laid her on top of him, as they took their clothes off. And half an hour later, they lay spent, and he looked at her guiltily. He was terrified he might cause her to go into labor, but the doctor hadn't told them not to.

  “Are you okay?” he asked nervously, looking at her as though she might explode at any moment.

  “Never better.” She looked at him as though she were drunk, and then she giggled.

  “I'm disgusting,” he said, watching her. “I shouldn't do that.”

  “Yes, you should. I'd much rather make love to you than have the baby. And at least I can't get pregnant.”

  He frowned then as he looked at her. “I thought you told me you were a virgin.”

  “I am,” she said happily. It seemed miraculous to her that their relationship was still so passionate, and she was more than eight months pregnant.

  “Want to try the breathing again?” he volunteered as they lay in bed. He felt as though he had to do something to redeem himself for his unbridled passion.

  “I thought we just did,” she said benignly. And then she glanced at the clock in dismay. It was ten o'clock, and she had to get up and go back to work. She was still planning to work full-time till the eleventh hour. Zelda had already volunteered to cover for her, anytime Adrian wanted her to, but so far Adrian hadn't called her. She was planning to start her maternity leave the same day she was due to have the baby. And Bill had already told her he thought she was pushing.

  “Why don't you at least relax for a few weeks before that?”

  “I'll have plenty of time to relax after I have the baby.”

  “That's what you think.” He grinned. He remembered only too well the nights without sleep, the broken sleep from nursing a baby who wanted to eat every two or three hours. He tried to tell her that, but she still wanted to work till the end. She felt fine and insisted that she needed the distraction. But every time she went in to work, Zelda practically groaned when she saw her.

  “How do you walk around with that?” she asked, pointing to Adrian's stomach. “Doesn't it hurt?”

  “No.” Adrian smiled. “You get used to it.”

  “I hope not,” Zelda sympathized. It was something so foreign to her, and she had no desire to make it familiar. Babies were just not something she wanted. Nor was a husband. And she liked Bill a lot, but she admitted to Adrian early on that just being with them made her nervous. It was all much too married. But she was happy for Adrian. No one deserved a good man more than she did. And there was no doubt in Zelda's mind, he was a good one. Not like that son of a bitch Steven. She had run into him a few times. He went to the same gym she did, but he hadn't seemed to notice her. And she had seen him there several times with different girls, always pretty, always young, and she was willing to bet that none of them knew that he had walked out on his wife because she was having a baby.

  She had asked Adrian once or twice if she ever heard from him, but Adrian always shook her head, and it seemed to be a sensitive subject, so she stopped asking.

  Bill drove Adrian to work that night, as he did every night now, and spent an hour at his own desk while she was working and then she would come to his office to pick him up, and sometimes they would sit and chat for a little while, in his comfortable office. They never seemed to run out of things to say, or ideas that they shared, or new plots for the show. They were a perfect match in many ways, and they had a good time, in bed and out, and they were both laughing as they headed for the elevator and she stopped with a funny look on her face.

  “What's up?” He looked at her worriedly.

  “I don't know….” She leaned against him, surprised by what it had felt like. Her whole belly had gotten hard as a rock, and felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise. She knew what it was from the description in the Lamaze class. “I think I just had a contraction.” She looked scared, and he put an arm around her. But she felt fine now. It had come and gone, but she looked up at him with an expression of panic.

  “You've been working too hard. You've got to slow down, or the baby will come early.”

  “It can't do that. I'm not ready for it.” The nursery was almost finished, but her head wasn't prepared for what she'd have to go through. “I want to enjoy Christmas before I have it.”

  “Then stop knocking yourself out,” he scolded. “Tell them you can't do the late show anymore. They'll understand. Hell, you're eight months pregnant.” And she wasn't even sure she was coming back. She was going to use her maternity leave to decide if she wanted to go to work for Bill. It still scared her a little to become that dependent on him.

  They drove home and on the way, she had two more contractions. But when they got home, he gave her a small glass of white wine and insisted that she drink it, and miraculously the contractions stopped, and she looked delighted. She had been scared to death that she was about to have the baby. “That really worked.”

  “Of course.” He looked pleased with himself as he kissed her. And then, for an instant, he looked guilty. “Maybe we shouldn't be making love anymore.” He wondered if their earlier indulge
nce had done it.

  “The doctor didn't say anything. And I think those are just those warm-up contractions to get things ready.”

  “The more you have now, the easier it'll be.”

  “Good. Then let's make love again.” She polished off the wine, and grinned up at him, looking like an elf with an enormous stomach as she said it.

  “I think you're perverted.” And the awful thing was that he actually wanted to make love to her. He wanted to make love to her all the time. How could he have fantasies about a woman who was eight months pregnant? But he found that he loved her more each day, and somehow she seemed sweet to him the way she was. She was so vulnerable, and so cute and so cuddly. He leaned over and kissed her then, but he managed to ward her off when she tried to get sexy. “If you don't stop this, Adrian, you'll have triplets.”

  “Now there's a thought,” but she sobered quickly when she contemplated the delivery. “I bet that must hurt.”

  “See, be grateful you're only having one.” There was a long silence in the dark, and then she whispered to him again.

  “What if it's twins and they don't know it?”

  “Believe me, nowadays they'd know it.” She was worried about everything, and she seemed to make a dozen trips into the nursery every night, checking things out, folding undershirts, looking at tiny little bonnets and booties and nightgowns. It touched him to see her like that, and more than once, it made him think of what a jerk Steven was for giving all that up. It meant so much to Bill, and absolutely nothing to Steven.

  Bill had wallpapered the room for her, in a white paper with little pink and blue stars and a pretty pink-and-blue-rainbow border. He had put the four-poster bed away, in a storage locker he had in the basement, and they had bought nursery furniture together at the beginning of December. Everything was ready finally the week before Christmas. And they'd bought a Christmas tree, and decorated it with old-fashioned ornaments and cranberries and popcorn.

  “I wish the boys could see this,” he said proudly. It was a beautiful little tree, and the apartment looked pretty and festive. The boys had gone skiing in Vermont, and Adrian and Bill had talked to them several times before they left. But it wouldn't be the same for him, having Christmas without them. They were coming out in February, for their spring break, and that was going to work out perfectly. If the baby came on time, it would be three weeks old by then, and Adrian would be more or less recovered, except for the sleepless nights. She had decided to nurse the baby, and they were going to leave the baby in a basket next to their bed, so she wouldn't have to get up every time the baby was hungry.

  She took a day off to finish her Christmas shopping, and for them it was going to be a double holiday. On the first of January, Bill was going to turn forty. She had bought him a beautiful gold watch at Cartier on Rodeo Drive. It had cost her a fortune but it was worth it. It was something he would wear for the rest of his life, and it was designed according to one that had been made for a sultan in the 1920s, and was appropriately called “The Pasha.” And she knew he would love it. And for Christmas she had bought him a tiny portable telephone that folded into a case the size of a razor. It was the perfect gadget for him, since he liked to be accessible to the show all the time, and they were always panicking trying to reach him. She had bought him other things, too, a new sweater, some cologne, a book he'd been admiring about old movies, and a tiny, tiny television he could watch in his bathroom, or even while he drove the woody, if he had to go somewhere but wanted to keep an eye on the show. She'd had a wonderful time shopping for him, and they had bought new skis and boots for the boys, and shipped them east well before Christmas. It was going to be the first time Tommy had his own equipment, but they were both outstanding skiers. And she had sent them each a gift just from her, beautiful ski parkas, and an electronic game for each. They could play them in the car next summer when they all went on their big vacation. But this time they had already decided to go to Hawaii for a month and rent a condo there, they were all feeling a lot less enthused about another camping trip at Lake Tahoe.

  It was three days before Christmas when Adrian was wrapping everything. She wanted to get it done before Bill came home. They were going to the annual Christmas party at his show, and she wanted to hide all his presents. She had put most of them in the baby's crib, with the comforter over them, and she was smiling to herself as she wrapped the tiny telephone. She knew he was going to love it, and he hadn't wanted to be extravagant and buy it for himself. It was nice being able to spoil him. And when she was finished, she went to get the mail, and she was startled when she saw the envelope from City Hall. She opened it without thinking, and gasped when she saw the papers.

  On the twenty-first of December, her divorce had become final. She was no longer married to Steven, and although he could not remove it from her, he had stated a preference that she no longer use his surname. And the papers terminating his parental rights to their unborn child were included. Legally; the baby was no longer his. It was Adrian's, period. The baby had no legal father. And his name would not be on the birth certificate, as the lawyer had explained to her the previous summer. She sat staring at the papers for a long time, and tears slowly filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. It was silly to get so upset at this late date, she told herself. It was no surprise. She had expected it. And yet it hurt anyway. It was the ultimate, final rejection. A marriage that had begun with hope and love had ended with total rejection. He had rejected everything about her, even her baby.

  She quietly put the papers away in her drawer in Bill's desk. He had graciously shared everything he had, his heart, his space, his apartment, his life, his bed, and he was even willing to take on her baby. It was amazing how different the two men were, how opposite in every way, and yet she was still sad about Steven, and she still wished that he could have brought himself to care about the baby.

  Bill came home while she was getting dressed, and as usual he sensed that something had happened. He thought she was scared about the baby again, and lately she had been on a rampage of anxiety, worrying if the baby would be normal. They had told her in the Lamaze class that all of these concerns were normal, that there was no need to feel it was a premonition of something truly awful.

  “Are you having contractions again?” he asked, sensing she was upset about something.

  “No, I'm okay.” And then she decided not to beat around the bush. She never did with him. He knew her too well anyway. “My divorce papers came today. And the termination of parental rights. It's all official.”

  “I could say congratulations, but I won't.” He looked at her carefully. “I know what that feels like. Even when you expect it, it's kind of a shock.” He put gentle arms around her and kissed her and tears filled her eyes again. “I'm sorry, baby. That's not nice for you at a time like this. But one day, it'll just be a memory and it will no longer matter.”

  “I hope so. I felt so lousy when I got them. I don't know …it was like flunking out of school, like really knowing you'd blown it.”

  “You didn't blow it. He did,” he reminded her, but she sat down on the bed and sniffed.

  “I still feel like I did something wrong … I mean … for him not to want the baby, I must have really handled it badly.”

  “From what you've told me, I don't think it could ever have been any different. If there was any humanity to the man, he'd have come around by now,” and he didn't need to remind her that Steven hadn't. He hadn't even been willing to acknowledge her when they met in the restaurant in October. What kind of man would do that? A real son of a bitch, and a selfish one, was Bill's unspoken answer. “You just have to put it behind you.” She nodded, and she knew he was right, but it was hard anyway. And she was quiet that night at his office Christmas party. Everyone was in high spirits and more than a little drunk, and suddenly she felt fat and uncomfortable and depressed and ugly. She had a lousy time, and Bill left early to take her home. He could see that she wasn't having fun, and the others wo
uldn't really miss him. They'd understand. And even if they didn't, Adrian was his first concern. She was having contractions again when they went to bed, and for once she didn't feel the least bit interested in making love to him.

  “Now I know you're really depressed,” he teased her. “It might even be terminal. Should I call the doctor?” He was playing at being concerned and he made her laugh, but she still looked sad as they lay in his bed. The baby's basket, covered in white lace, was already standing in the corner at the ready. Her due date was only two and a half weeks away, and she was still very nervous about it. So far, the Lamaze class hadn't reassured her, even though the information was abundant and useful. But the realities of childbirth still terrified her. But she wasn't even thinking about that tonight, she was just thinking about Steven and their divorce, and the fact that the baby had no father.

  “I have an idea,” he smiled. “It's a little unusual, but not totally inappropriate. Let's get married on Christmas. That gives us three days to get the blood test and the license. I think that's what it takes. That and about ten dollars. I might even be able to scrape up the money.” He was looking at her tenderly, and although he was joking, he was serious about the proposal.

  “That's not right,” she said sadly.

  “What, about the ten dollars?” He was still trying to keep it light. “Okay, if it's more, I'll scrape it up somehow.”

  “No, I'm serious, Bill. It's not right for you to marry me out of pity. You deserve more than that, and so do Adam and Tommy.”

  “Oh, for God's sake.” He lay back in their bed and groaned. “Do me a favor, don't rescue me from myself. I'm a big boy and I know what I'm doing, and I happen to love you.”

  “I love you too,” she said mournfully. “But it's not fair.”

  “To whom?”

  “You, or Steven, or the baby.”

  “Would you mind explaining to me by what deviated, neurotic route you came to that conclusion?” Sometimes she exasperated him, especially lately. She worried about so many things, and she felt so obligated to be fair to everyone …him …and the baby …and even rotten Steven.