LovePlay

by Diana Palmer

  Most of the girls she knew took sex casually. Living with a man these days was nothing so shocking in a city like New York. But Bett hadn’t been that way. She’d been reserved and unyielding, she’d held onto her principles. Until Cul walked back into her life and her mind went haywire. Well, she’d had her fantasy fulfilled. And look where it had led her. Her friends never got pregnant, but wham, a few nights with Cul and she was pregnant.

  The worst part of it was what he’d said about wanting to make the arrangement permanent until he found out she was pregnant. The idiot! The idiot! As much as he’d wanted to father a child—and now that he had, he wouldn’t accept the fact of its parentage. He thought she’d betrayed him with David. And that was so ludicrous. As if she could have betrayed him with any man, even in her mind. Cul was the only man she’d ever loved, or wanted. And he always would be, despite the fact that, at the moment, she hated him passionately.

  It was her own fault, anyway. She could have said no. She could have walked away. She could at least have tried not to give in to her wild passion for the playwright. But she hadn’t. And now she was going to have to pay for it.

  The monologue she used in the play came back at her full force, and she lifted her eyes. “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, “if you love little babies, forgive me and show me what to do.”

  All at once the weariness washed over her and she went to bed. It was the first night since it all began that she slept.

  By the end of the week, she was ready to go back to her accountant with the money for the taxes. He was apologetic, but there had been an error, made by his secretary. She needed to come up with several thousand more dollars. He named an amount, which would barely leave her enough to buy groceries and pay the rent for the next few months.

  When she got back to the apartment, she was in tears. She sat down heavily, white-faced. From bad to worse, wasn’t that how the saying went? She reached for her investment account checkbook and wrote the check. She had to pay it, so she might as well get it over with. She put it with the tax form the accountant had given her, tucked it in the accompanying envelope and put a stamp on it. So much for the expensive visits to the doctor. She’d have to find another way.

  She made herself a cup of hot herb tea, then went downtown for her last scheduled checkup with her doctor. Although she hadn’t been feeling up to par lately, it was almost the last straw when he diagnosed her as anemic, prescribed expensive prenatal vitamins and told her to schedule another visit.

  She told him she couldn’t afford all these things, but he in turn gave her a stern lecture about her health and the needs of her baby, the infant developing inside her womb. What could she do?

  It was a week before David and Janet found out about her condition. They were horrified to learn that she was in such dire straits. Janet had kept pumping, with David’s help, until they wormed it out of her.

  “Oh, my God!” Janet burst out. “That’s the living end! Bett, let me call your parents….”

  “No!” Bett whispered, white-faced. “Janet, if you do, I’ll never forgive you! I can’t stand the thought of my poor mother worrying over me. Her heart is already bad.”

  “All right, don’t get upset,” Janet said quickly. She sat down beside her friend, frowning, and held Bett’s hand tight. “But, darling, we have to do something.”

  “Why? I’m taking care of myself,” she protested. “I just have to cut back a bit.”

  “You shouldn’t have to, that’s the thing,” Janet ground out. “Cul could afford to keep you in silk and ermine!”

  “Cul doesn’t have any responsibility to me, or this baby,” Bett said roughly, and felt it. “It’s my fault it happened. I’ll take care of myself. That’s all,” she added, glaring at both of them when they opened their mouths. “Now be good friends and shut up. How about some coffee?”

  She’d thought they’d let it go at that. She should have known better. Janet wasn’t the type to turn her back on a friend in need. She lost her temper and called Cul, and then, calmer and nervous, she confessed to Bett what she’d done.

  Bett just stared at her. It was early morning, and Janet had brought her a Danish and a cup of coffee from the deli, and she was still in her old flannel gown when the shorter woman blurted out the confession.

  She stood rigidly with the pastry in one hand and the steaming coffee in its white Styrofoam cup in the other, not moving. In the faded blue flannel gown, with her hair streaming red and gold down her shoulders and her dark eyes wide, she was the picture of despair.

  “Please don’t hate me,” Janet pleaded softly, her face contorting. “I was so mad…. Bett, I just cried thinking of you here, like this, and that stupid man… Oh, my gosh, anybody who knows you would realize that you wouldn’t go to bed with a man you didn’t love. And there’s never been a man for you except Cul. If he wasn’t such a jackass, he’d realize it. He should help out!”

  “He owes me nothing,” she managed huskily. “Nothing, Janet. I don’t even want to see him again, don’t you know? He’s hurt me too much. I can’t bear the thought of him seeing me like this!”

  Her proud voice broke, and Janet wanted to cry, too. She took the pastry and the coffee and set it down, and took the broken woman into her arms.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered tearfully. “I put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

  Bett drew in a shuddering breath and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s all right. You care about me and I appreciate it.” Her drowned eyes looked into Janet’s. “How did you find him?”

  “I called the studio in Hollywood,” came the quiet confession. “I’m really sorry.”

  “He isn’t coming here?” Bett asked fearfully.

  Janet turned away. “I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I was too busy telling him what an s.o.b. he was. I just went crazy. You’re my friend. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” She turned. “Are you going to marry David? He said he asked you.”

  She felt the uneasiness in that question and tilted her head. “No, I told him no,” she murmured. “I don’t love him, you see, although he’s a fine man.”

  “For a starving actor,” Janet agreed with a nervous laugh, avoiding her friend’s eyes. “He’s nobody’s dream man.”

  “But he’s kind,” Bett defended. “And fun to be with. He may be famous someday.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” the smaller woman said bitingly.

  “You just hate men, that’s your trouble. Why don’t you meet David halfway? I thought you two were getting along very well. At least you’re not trying to verbally skewer each other lately.”

  “He’s stopped needling me so much.”

  “And vice versa,” Bett agreed.

  Janet cleared her throat. “These sweetrolls are getting cold, and so is the coffee,” she said hastily, and picked hers up. She glanced back. “I really am sorry I called Cul, Bett.”

  “Don’t dwell on it,” Bett said. “Cul being Cul, he probably forgot it all the minute he put the phone down. He’d never come cross country to see about me. Not in a million years. This coffee isn’t bad, is it?”

  Janet didn’t say anything. But she was remembering the shocked silence on the other end of the line when she’d told Cul about Bett’s circumstances. She wasn’t that sure he wouldn’t come. But now, she was tormented by fear that she’d caused more trouble for her friend. And God knew, Bett had all the trouble she could handle as it was.

  Seven

  Bett wondered if she was ever going to feel like her old self again. The anemia had weakened her, so that every step was difficult. She was going on willpower alone, and she noticed that her understudy was being carefully rehearsed. Well, she reminded herself, the production had to go on, with or without its leading lady. But how was she going to survive without her salary, if something happened to keep her from working?

  The next day she managed to get to rehearsal, but in the middle of it, she collapsed. David got her back to her apartment and reluctantly left her there.


  “I shouldn’t go.” He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob.

  “Don’t be silly,” she chided, curling up on the couch. “I can take care of myself. It was just a little fainting spell. I am pregnant, you know.”

  “So you are.” He sighed. “Well, you can always call the theater if you need me, I guess.”

  She smiled at him. “I guess.”

  He returned the smile, barely. “Okay. I’ll check on you late this afternoon.”

  “Honestly, David, I’m all right,” she returned. “I can always call Janet.”

  “You could call either of us, if you just would,” he grumbled. “You’re too independent, darling.”

  “I’m used to taking care of myself. Besides, Mr. Bartholomew…”

  “…is your acting daddy, and he’ll come if you yell. Yes, I know,” he agreed. “So take care of yourself.”

  “Junior and I will be fine, worrywart.”

  He laughed and went out, closing the door behind him. Bett relaxed into the soft cushions of the worn sofa with a sigh. Her eyes glanced down at her shoes, noticing their worn condition. One sole was half off. Well, she’d either have to get used to them or have them resoled. The days of replacing worn items of clothing were long past. She could no longer afford that luxury.

  The thought made her sad, and she did something that she’d never have done in front of her friends. She broke down and began to cry. It all seemed so hopeless somehow. No matter how hard she tried, things only got worse.

  She was drying her tears on the hem of her faded, second-hand striped maternity blouse when an impatient, angry knock sounded at the door.

  David, she assumed with a smile as she got up to answer it. He was probably still frustrated at having to leave her.

  “I told you, I’m all right…” she began as she threw the bolt and opened the door. And froze. Because it wasn’t David. It was Cul, and he was furious.

  Just what I need, Bett thought miserably, World War III. “Well, come in,” she said shortly, and turned her back on him, leaving him to follow. “I don’t need to ask why you’re here. Janet has already confessed.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t ask her to call me,” he scoffed. He looked taller than ever, bigger. His blond hair was ruffled, as if his hands had tangled it, and his green eyes were accusing in a face darkened with bad temper.

  She tossed her hair back from her shoulders and glared at him. “Go ahead,” she invited with a mocking smile and a graceful sweep of her hand. “Get it all out of your system.”

  He just stood there, breathing deeply, the pupils of his eyes so contracted that they seemed to be invisible. “I can’t remember the last time I was this angry,” he told her flatly. “You and I both know that child isn’t mine, Bett. Involving other people isn’t going to bring me around. It will only turn me against you. Nothing you say or do will convince me that you didn’t take a lover on the side.”

  “I’d already figured that out, all by myself,” she assured him. She folded her arms over her breasts and stared at him defiantly. “I want nothing from you. I never did. Janet and David were worried about me. Janet took it upon herself to enlist you. I didn’t ask her to. I’d be happy if I never saw you again.”

  “If Hadison is so damned concerned, why won’t he marry you?” he began the old argument.

  She threw up her hands and turned toward the kitchen. “I can’t argue with stone,” she told the coffeepot as she filled it and started it perking.

  “I didn’t come here to argue. I came here to tell you that if you don’t stop fingering me as the father of your child, I’ll take you to court.”

  “That sounds like fun,” she remarked absently. “I can see the headlines—ACTRESS IMPREGNATED BY TOILET SEAT…”

  “Stop it! It’s not funny!”

  Probably not, she agreed silently, but it was either laugh or cry, and she’d had quite enough crying. “That’s as good an explanation as yours,” she replied, turning to face him. Behind her, the aging coffeepot began to make embarrassing noises as it heated up and started perking.

  “You little idiot,” he burst out, angrily, “don’t you think I’d give blood to be responsible for your condition? I write plays about pregnant women, I dream about children…but facts are facts! Shall I give you my doctor’s phone number and let you speak to him personally?” he added, visibly exasperated. “Maybe if you hear it from him, you’ll realize how hopeless this accusation really is!”

  She searched his craggy face quietly. He was aging. There were lines of strain all around his chiseled mouth, his long, elegant nose, his deep-set eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept well in a long time, as if he’d been worrying. Well, that was pretty common. Perhaps one of his girls was giving him hell. The thought depressed her even more.

  “You’d make a great trial lawyer,” she murmured absently. “All that single-minded determination is wasted on theater.”

  “Are you listening to me?” he challenged.

  “Of course I am, Cul. I’m listening to you calling me a liar. You are,” she asserted when he started to interrupt. “You’re saying that I was two-timing you. Which only goes to prove that you don’t know me at all. I was so besotted with you that I couldn’t have let another man touch me. So how do you explain my faceless lover?”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “Perhaps you drank a little too much at a party….”

  She threw up her hands. “Perhaps I was kidnapped by a flying saucer and seduced by aliens!”

  “Can’t you ever be serious?” he flared, shifting again.

  “I don’t dare,” she told him solemnly. “If I let myself think about what you’re saying, I’ll have hysterics and Mr. Bartholomew will come running up those stairs and kill you!” She blinked. “There’s a thought.”

  “Bartholomew?” His eyes narrowed. “Does he come up here to see you often?”

  “That’s the spirit, Cul, just keep tossing out accusations. Why stop with Mr. Bartholomew?” she continued heatedly. “Why not add the postman, the grocery boy, the bus driver, and the man who sells hot dogs on the corner? My God, I’m a prostitute! I created my own red light district…!”

  “Stop it,” he ground out.

  “You keep saying that.” She sighed wearily and turned back to the coffeepot, taking down a cup from the cupboard to fill with the watery dark liquid. She had to make it half strength—not only because of the caffeine, but because she couldn’t afford to buy much coffee. The cup was chipped and had a hairline crack down its off-white surface, but like her shoes, it couldn’t be replaced, either. With a sigh, she filled her cup. She was having to pinch pennies until they screamed, for the baby’s sake.

  Boy, she thought, has this baby got a stupid father. She patted the little rounded mound and smiled at it. That’s okay, kid, she thought, you and I will make it somehow.

  He came up behind her. “Have you got an extra cup?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Sure. Where would you like it?” She turned, finding him much too close. She backed away a little. “I can think of a perfect place.”

  “My insurance doesn’t cover that,” he murmured dryly, and a faint smile touched his hard mouth.

  “The cups are up there,” she gestured vaguely, turning back to the worn sofa with her own hot cup.

  She heard the cupboards open and close. There was a long silence before she heard coffee being poured into a cup. He opened the refrigerator and there was an even longer pause. It wasn’t until she heard the rough sigh that she realized what he was thinking. All she had in the way of groceries were milk and cheese, courtesy of a special nutrition program for pregnant women, a few slices of bread and some canned soup, with only a few staples. She was going to the store tomorrow to stock up again. But she knew exactly what he was thinking when she got a look at his face.

  “I’m not going to starve,” she said, putting on a magnificent front. “Tomorrow is grocery day.”

  His eyes went over her as he cradled the c
up in his hands. “Nutrition is important,” he began. “Especially in the first few months!”

  “No!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t my obstretrician tell me?”

  “When you visit him, that is? Janet said you’d cut your visits to the bone.”

  “My life is none of your business,” she told him.

  “Do your parents know?”

  Her face went pasty white. She clenched her teeth and stared down into the cup in her lap. “No.”

  “Oh, boy,” he whistled through his teeth. He sat down beside her. “I thought you’d have told them.”

  “My parents aren’t the kind of people who have unwed mothers for daughters,” she said sadly. “My mother has a heart condition, and any kind of shock could kill her. They’re deeply religious people, Cul. They raised me in the church.”

  “All right, then, I’ll take care of you,” he said, as if the thought of it galled him to the back teeth.

  Her head lifted, and her eyes scorched him. She shook her head. “No way, honey. I’d take help from an armed robber before I’d take it from you.”

  “You can’t live like this,” he began.

  “Other people do. I’ll make out. You just mind your own complicated love life, sweet man, and Junior and I will take care of each other. When he’s old enough,” she amended.

  He stared at her stomach again and dragged his eyes away. “You need food.”

  “I’m not starving,” she grumbled. “I’m just careful. I wouldn’t endanger the baby for the world. But I can’t have everything—I’m just cutting back a little.”

  “You shouldn’t have to!” he shot at her. He glared down at the coffee cup. “The baby’s father should be looking after you.”

  “Why?” she asked reasonably. “It’s my baby.”

  “You didn’t make it all by yourself.”

  “Like hell I didn’t,” she replied hotly. “According to you, that’s exactly how it happened!”

  He got up, livid with controlled fury. He stared down at her violently for an instant before he drained his cup and put it on the coffee table.