He was before her in two strides, brushing away the tears that trickled slowly down her cheeks. “Shhhh. Don’t cry. Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry.”
Somehow she was in his arms then, and he was holding her tightly, rocking her gently from side to side while she clung to his neck. Her silent sobs cut through him, paining him nearly as much as her closeness did, but differently.
“Shhhh. I believe you. I believe you, and I feel the same. If I was smart, I’d stay away from you, but I can’t. Do you understand that?” He held her back only enough so that he could see her face. “I can’t, Dani. As God is my witness, I need you.” He hauled her back against him, pressing her face to his throat. His own was tight. It was a minute before he could speak. “I don’t want to do anything to destroy your marriage, but I can’t leave you alone. I guess that puts us back where we started. Except—” he pressed his lips to her hair “—now you know how I feel. Does that scare you?”
She nodded, but all the while she was savoring the clean male scent of his skin. “It also makes me feel very good,” she confessed in a tiny voice. “I’m being selfish again.”
“Not selfish,” he murmured against her hair, “just realistic. And honest. I want you to be that with me. Always. And I may be condemning myself to a hell of sorts, but I’m glad you feel the way you do. At least you’ll understand when I need to touch you from time to time.” His voice grew gruff with determination. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to deny either of us the other’s company. Not when that son of a bitch could care less.”
Danica was the one to draw back then. “That’s unfair. He doesn’t know.”
“Would he care?”
She took a quick breath to respond with what would have been an easy lie, then held it. Michael had asked for honesty. This she could give him, when there was so much she couldn’t. Slowly she released her breath. “I…I’m really not sure. There are a lot of things about Blake that I’m not sure of anymore. But I married him willingly, and he has many strong points. He’s never been the jealous type—”
“Has he ever had reason before?”
“No, but—”
“I think you should tell him about us.”
“About us? You make it sound like we’re having an affair, when—”
“That could be the case if we’re not careful. Knowing that Blake knows we’re friends, knowing that he knows we spend time together, might just help us be careful. Hell, Dani, we have to do something.”
His look of helplessness was so endearing that it gave her a measure of strength. She couldn’t help but smile. “Self-control. That’s all it takes. Self-control. As the tea bag says, self-control is the magic carpet to salvation.”
“I drink coffee,” he grumped, then tossed his head toward the door. “Come on. If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss the best buys.”
As it happened, they bought nothing but ice-cream cones and time, the former to satisfy one appetite, the latter to put others on hold. It was evening by the time they returned, and they were both pleasantly tired.
Danica, for one, felt more at peace with herself than she had in a while. “Michael?” She’d just opened her front door. “There was a reason why I decided to spend the whole summer here.”
“You mean aside from wanting me to distraction?” he teased over her shoulder.
She elbowed his ribs, then turned to face him. “I need to think. The last few years have been frustrating for me in many ways, and I’m not sure it all has to do with Blake.” She was giving Blake the benefit of the doubt. After all, it took two to make a marriage work. Avoiding Michael’s gaze, she continued softly. “I need a break from my life as it’s been. I have to think about where I’m going. There’s always the possibility of my getting a job; we talked about that before. But—” she hesitated for just a minute, then knew she had to go on “—there’s also the possibility that I might be pregnant.”
Almost timidly she raised her eyes, but Michael’s face was shadowed, his expression hidden by the night.
“Pregnant.” He breathed the word in near awe and reached out to touch her, then stilled his hands in midair and gave a short laugh.
“Michael?”
He shook his head. “Absurd. I swear I’m losing my marbles. My first reaction was pure joy, until I realized it’s not even my kid.”
“You can still be excited.”
The hurt in her voice brought him to his senses. He did touch her then, taking both of her shoulders, smoothing his hands over her back. “I am, Dani, I am.” Dipping his head, he kissed her softly on the mouth. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Very much.”
“Then I’m happy, no, thrilled for you. But jealous. I have to say that.…You don’t know for sure?”
“It’s too early. I’ll see a doctor in another couple of weeks.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Fine. I mean, it’s too early to feel sick or anything. The calendar is the only thing that says it might be so.”
“Blake must be pleased.”
“Blake doesn’t know.” It was the second time she had said those words that day, and she felt slightly sheepish. “I didn’t want to get his hopes up. We’ve waited too long.” From sheepish to guilty. She implied that Blake would be pleased, when, in truth, she wasn’t sure. No, she amended, he would be pleased, but in his own inimitably dispassionate way.
“Then, I’m really pleased, on his behalf and my own. And I’m glad you told me, Dani.” Before Blake. It was the little boy in him being perverse. “Now I’ll know to be careful with you. No wrestling, no tackle football…”
She gave a soft laugh. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” What she appreciated was the sentiment behind his teasing. Though she knew she was healthy and strong, and that nothing could dislodge a healthy baby, if indeed one grew within her, Michael made her feel special. But then, he always did. It was one of the reasons she was so drawn to him. “Well,” she sighed, “on that note I’d better get in. It’s been a wonderful day, Michael. Thank you.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you later in the week?”
She smiled. They had already talked about the work he had to do, as well as about the reading and sunning and relaxing she intended to do. “I’d like that.” She stepped into the house. “Get a lot of writing done, you hear?”
“I hear. Lock that door good, you hear?”
“I hear. Good night, Michael.”
“’Night, Dani.” He was halfway down the path when he couldn’t resist a final note. “Sweet dreams!” he called, wishing the same for himself but somehow fearing it would be a different kind of dream he would have.
Oblivious to his lascivious thoughts, Danica watched him back from the drive, then closed the door softly and locked it tight.
Blake called on Wednesday night. “Danica?”
“Blake! Hi!”
“Did I get you from somewhere? The phone rang eight times before you picked it up.”
“I was on the deck. The surf is wilder than usual and I didn’t hear the ring at first.”
“Bad weather?”
“Not yet. But it looks like it’s going to pour. How is everything?”
“Just fine.”
“…Anything new at the office?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“…I assume the party went well on Saturday.”
“Uh-huh. They were asking for you.”
“Oh?”
“You sound surprised.”
“A little. I never thought I was noticed at those things.”
“Come on. There are always women there for you to talk with.”
“Right. Well, I’m sure they had each other.”
There was a brief silence from the other end of the line. Then: “So, how are you doing?”
“Really well. I finished Vidal’s Lincoln. It was interesting.” She paused to give Blake an opportunity to ask her about it. When he didn’t, she went on. “And I’ve started Lud
lum’s latest. I’m not sure I like it as well as some of his others, but it may just be that I’m having trouble getting into it.”
“So, you’ve been spending your time reading.”
“Not all of it. I drive into town every morning. I’m thinking of getting a bike.”
“Isn’t it awfully hilly there for a bike?”
“Nah. It’d be great exercise.”
“I suppose. And since you’re not dancing—”
“But I am! I put music on and go through the routine from my class once a day. That was one of the reasons I wanted a stereo up here. Regarding the bike, though, it’d be fun as well as practical. With the summer crowds here, it’s sometimes hard to find a parking space in town. I feel guilty taking the car when it’s so close. It can’t be more than five miles into town and back.”
“What do you do in town? The shops don’t change that much from day to day, do they?”
“No. But the people are lovely. I got to talking with a woman who owns the sportswear shop. She’s fascinating. She has a Ph.D. in biology and worked in research for six years before deciding to chuck it all and move up here. Her husband is an artist and has a gallery down the block from her shop. I bought one of his paintings. It’s a seascape, but very modern. It looks great in the bedroom.”
“Sounds good.”
“…Sara and I had lunch together today. It was nice. Oh, and I’m working up the beginnings of a tan.”
“Be careful with that. Too much sun is bad for the skin.”
“I use lotion.”
“Make sure it’s Factor 15. I wouldn’t want you to be all wrinkled and leathery by the end of the summer.”
“I won’t be all wrinkled and leathery. I just may look healthy.”
“Good. Listen, Pook, I have to run. We’re meeting tonight with a new account. Harlan’s giving me the high sign.”
“You’re still at the office?” It was seven o’clock. She assumed he would be calling from home.
“Not for long. I’m on my way.” His words were directed as much to the man standing in the room, Danica guessed, as to her.
“Go ahead. Good luck with your meeting. And give Harlan my best.” She couldn’t stand Harlan Magnusson, with his French-cut suits, dark curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was always moving. He made her nervous. Still, he was her husband’s right-hand man.
“Will do. We’ll talk more another time. Bye-bye.”
It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that he called again, and the conversation opened along similar lines. Yes, he was fine. No, there was nothing new at the office. Yes, she was fine. No, she wasn’t bored.
“The Fourth of July was fun up here, Blake. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it.”
“You know that I had to be in Philadelphia. We discussed it when I drove you up there.”
“Yes. Did everything go well?”
“Just fine.”
“I’m glad. There was a fireworks display here. I went with one of our neighbors.” She broached the subject with a nonchalance she didn’t feel, but she realized that Michael had been right that she tell Blake of their friendship. It wasn’t so much that she saw it as a deterrent to physical involvement; since she and Michael had aired their feelings, they seemed able to keep things under control. It was more a matter of accounting for her time, a good deal of which was spent with him. It was also a matter of being covered should she run into someone she knew when she was with Michael. It seemed only fair that if Blake was to get a report back that his wife was seen with another man, he would be able to say with confidence, “Oh, yes. I know. He’s a good friend.”
“You’ve met the neighbors?” Blake asked now.
“Several.” It was the truth. She had taken walks by herself on the roads near the house and had encountered various of the homeowners nearby. “There’s a retired banker and his wife—Kilsythe?”
“City Trust. I’ve heard of him.”
“And an anesthesiologist and his family. The one I went to the fireworks display with is a writer.”
“Oh?”
“A historian. You’ll know his family. Buchanan.”
There was a moment’s silence. “Watch out for him.”
“Oh, he’s safe. He doesn’t have anything to do with his family’s papers.”
“You can never be too careful.”
She paused, about to argue more until she realized the futility of it. “I’ll be careful.…Blake? We’re still on for Saturday night, aren’t we?” They had a longstanding commitment to attend a movie premiere, a benefit for the Heart Association.
“Of course. When can I expect you?”
“I thought I’d come in on Friday.” She had made a doctor’s appointment for that afternoon, though as yet she didn’t want to say anything to Blake. “I’ll drive back Sunday. Is that okay?”
“Sounds fine. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay. Bye-bye.”
Friday afternoon Danica learned that she was indeed pregnant.
six
dANICA GAVE BLAKE THE GOOD WORD SHORTLY after he arrived home from work on Friday evening. He was surprised, then pleased, and insisted on calling her parents immediately. It was easier said than done, though Danica might have predicted that. It seemed the Marshalls had left their Connecticut home, where Blake had expected they would be, to spend the weekend with a congressman friend of William’s at a horse farm in Kentucky. After a series of forwarding calls, which Blake endured with characteristic patience, he eventually got through and passed on the news with a pride suggesting that he had accomplished the deed on his own.
For the most part, Danica let him do the talking. She couldn’t help but feel that he was more pleased with the enhancement of his own image than with the fact itself. But she was loathe to criticize, when she, too, felt a little of the same. Her father was gratified; in his eyes, her status soared, and that mattered to her. Still, deep down inside, her greatest joy was in the prospect of holding a baby in her arms, of being needed by a helpless infant, of loving it and having it love her in return.
On the drive back to Maine on Sunday afternoon, that joy emerged full force. She couldn’t keep from smiling. The prospect of her future had, with the doctor’s pronouncement, taken a turn for the better. For the first time in months she felt optimistic. And she couldn’t wait to tell Michael.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t home. She let the phone ring for a while, dialed right back on the chance that she might have misdialed the first time, then tried again five minutes later, thinking that he might have been in the shower.
Undaunted, she changed from her city sundress into a tank top and shorts and walked the beach for a while, grinning, sighing happily, edging closer and closer to Michael’s house in the hope that he would return and saunter out on the deck. In time she stationed herself on the boulder she’d come to think of as theirs, with the confidence that Michael would find her.
Sure enough, not long after, as the sun dipped low behind her, she heard his call and saw him trotting toward her down the beach. He came to a halt on the sand beneath her.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” he said, eyes narrowed in speculation.
Beaming from ear to ear, she nodded. “I saw the doctor on Friday.” She didn’t have to explain.
“And it’s true?”
She could only grin and nod again.
“Hey, Dani, that’s great!” He made his way up the rocks to where she sat and hugged her soundly. “That’s great!” Fortunately, he’d had time to get used to the idea. While on the one hand he regretted that a child would be another tie binding Danica to Blake Lindsay, on the other he was thrilled for her. He knew how much she wanted a baby. “When’s it due?”
“In February. I’m just six weeks pregnant.”
“And the doctor gave you a clean bill of health?”
“Yup. I’ve got vitamins to take, but that’s it.”
“How about Blake?”
She grinned. “No vi
tamins. His job is done.”
“Not a very modern view, but that wasn’t what I meant anyway. How did he take the news?”
“Happily. He called my folks, then his.” He’d done the latter only reluctantly, and then, not until Sunday morning. Danica had never been able to understand his relationship with his family. His parents and only sibling, a brother, were of solid middle-class stock living and working in Detroit. Though Blake sent them money from time to time, he seemed to want little else to do with them. Danica was the one to send birthday and anniversary cards, not to mention keeping after Blake to call them. She felt badly; she had only seen them four times in the eight years of her marriage.
“I assume they were all duly excited,” Michael speculated.
“Uh-huh. It was amazing. My mother grew really concerned. She went on and on about what I should and shouldn’t do and how to take care of myself. She never did that when I was a child.”
“You knew all the answers back then?” he teased.
“Not quite. I had to find them for myself, though. Mom was never there.”
“Of course she was. You’re exaggerating.”
“Don’t I wish. In fact, as I remember, I did an awful lot of wishing back then on this very topic. Mom was always in and out as my father’s schedule demanded. She never seemed to be there when I needed her.” She grew more pensive. “I remember when I had the chicken pox. I was seven at the time and my father was running for his first term. Was I ever sick. The only thing I wanted was for her to hold me. She was campaigning with him, of course. So I just burrowed under the covers and…and itched.”
Michael ached for her. “There must have been someone with you.”
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