Loving

by Steel, Danielle

  "When is the baby due?" she asked her softly.

  "Not till August."

  "Are you still working?" But Mary only laughed.

  "No, that's a thing of the past, I'm afraid. I used to be an O.B. nurse until the first time I got pregnant. Now I seem to be a regular patient there." The three of them grinned. And somehow Bettina felt left out. John had been right. It all seemed so normal. And she suddenly longed to be one of them.

  "How old is your first one?"

  "Nineteen months." Bettina nodded and the other woman smiled. "Do you have children?" But Bettina only shook her head.

  They all drank red wine and ate steaks that Seth barbecued for dinner. And after coffee John offered to go out to the kitchen to lend Mary a hand. He had orchestrated that earlier with Seth, who looked at Bettina as soon as they were alone and gave her a warm smile.

  "I understand you want a dissolution?" She looked at him in confusion and he laughed.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't understand...."

  "That's California legal jargon. I apologize. John mentioned that you're looking for an attorney to get a divorce." She nodded, and then sighed. "Can I help?"

  "Yes, I'd like that very much."

  "Why don't you come to my office tomorrow? Say around two?" She nodded gratefully. A few minutes later John was back, but somehow she felt degraded by her exchange with Seth, by Mary's gently bulging stomach, by all of it. She had such a long way to go to be like them. And if they knew the truth, they'd never accept her. Look at them. Mary was thirty-five, the two men thirty-six, they all had respectable careers in medicine or in law. Seth and Mary had a house in the suburbs, one child, another on the way. How could she expect them to accept her? Later, when John took her back to her place, she told him mournfully what she had felt.

  "You don't have to tell them. No one ever needs to know. That's the beauty of you starting out fresh here."

  "But what if someone finds out, John? I mean, my father was very well-known. Conceivably one day I could come across someone who once knew me."

  "Not necessarily. And that was so long ago, who would recognize you? Besides, no one needs to know about your marriages, Bettina. That's behind you now. You have to start fresh. You're still very young. No one would even suspect you had been married before."

  And then she looked at him hauntingly. "Is it so terrible that I have?" But he didn't answer for a long moment.

  "Bettina, it's just something no one needs to know." But he hadn't said that it wasn't awful. He hadn't told her what she had needed to hear. "Did you make an appointment with Seth?"

  She nodded. "Yes, I did."

  "Good. Then you can get that taken care of. And then you can find a job." But it was odd. She really didn't want to. Except that she knew she should. She had to have the job for respectability because John thought so. She suddenly knew just how much it mattered to her what this man thought.

  Chapter 27

  A few weeks later she found a job in an art gallery on Union Street, and although it was neither exciting nor immensely profitable, it occupied most of her time. She worked from ten in the morning until six at night. And sitting at a desk smiling innocuously at strangers all day seemed to leave her exhausted, though she couldn't even remember what she'd done.

  But she had finally become one of the great working class, working all day, and bored with it, and anxious to find a reason to get out of her job.

  John took her out two or three times a week, for dinner or a movie, and they were beginning to spend some time together on the weekends. He loved to play tennis and sail. The time they shared was certainly healthful. Bettina was looking better than she had in a long time, and she had a deep honey-colored tan. It set off the reddish lights in her hair, and her eyes looked more like emeralds than ever. The four months in San Francisco had been good for her in many ways.

  Tonight he had cooked at his apartment and they were lingering over coffee.

  "Want to stop by and see the Waterstons tonight? Seth says Mary's getting antsy and the doctor won't let her come to the city anymore. She delivered last time in under two hours, and he's afraid that this time she won't make it to the hospital at all."

  "Oh, Jesus." And then she looked at him thoughtfully with a half smile. "That whole baby thing scares me to death."

  "But you were pregnant." He looked surprised at her reaction. Having a baby was so normal. Why would any healthy woman be afraid?

  "I know, and I was excited about the baby. But every time I thought about the rest of it, it scared me to death."

  "But why? Don't be silly. There's nothing to be afraid of. Mary's not afraid."

  "She's a nurse."

  And then he looked at her more gently. "If you ever had a baby, Bettina, I'd be there with you." She wasn't sure what he meant for a moment. As a friend? Or a doctor? Even though they'd been sleeping together for three months now, she wasn't quite sure what he meant. There was something so oddly uncuddly about their relationship that she was never sure if they were really lovers, or just friends.

  "Thank you."

  "You don't sound very excited at the prospect." He smiled at her and she laughed at him.

  "It all seems very far off."

  "What, having children? Why should it be?" And then he smiled at her more tenderly. "You could have one by next year." But she wasn't sure she wanted one anymore. She wanted to write her play.

  "That doesn't mean I will." It seemed a safe answer, and he laughed.

  "Well, you certainly could. Let's see ... when is your divorce final?" Suddenly she felt her heart racing. What was he asking her? What did he mean?

  "In two months. September." Her voice was oddly soft.

  "We could get married then, get you pregnant immediately, and presto magic, next June you have a baby. How does that sound to you?" He was looking at her more closely now, and she felt his hand reach for hers.

  "John ... are you serious?"

  And then very softly, "Yes, I am."

  "But so--so quickly? ... We don't have to get married the minute the divorce comes through ... it's...."

  He looked at her in consternation. "Why not? Why would we wait to get married?"

  And then, fearing his disapproval again, "I don't know." People like John Fields don't live with someone. They get married. They have babies. Bettina knew that for sure now. He was not going to fool around. And not complying with his wishes meant fresh failure. It meant not measuring up, not being "normal." And she didn't want to do that anymore.

  "Don't you want to, Betty?" She hated the nickname, but she had never told him, because there were other things about him that she did love, his solidity, the way you could count on him, he was reliable and sturdy and handsome, and he made her feel like an ordinary, regular person, when they played tennis, or had dinner, or joined some of his friends for a Sunday sail. It was a life she had never known before. Never. Until she met Dr. John Fields. But marry him? Get married again? Now? "I don't know. It's too soon." It was only a whisper.

  He looked at her unhappily. "I see." And then he seemed to pull away.

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, on her way to the gallery, Bettina thought again about John's proposal. What more did she want? Why wasn't she ecstatic? Because, she answered herself slowly, what she wanted more than children or marriage was time. She wanted to find herself, Bettina, the person she had lost somewhere along the way while she was so busy changing names. She knew she had to find her, before it was too late.

  She let her car idle at a stop sign, as she once again remembered his words, and the look on his face when she told him it was too soon. It was too soon. For her. And what about her play? If she married him now, she'd never write it, she'd get too caught up in his life and being Mrs. John Fields. That wasn't what she wanted now ... she wanted-- A horn bleated angrily as she remembered where she was and moved on. But she couldn't keep her mind on her driving, she could barely even keep her eyes on the road. She just kept thinking of th
e look on his face when she said-- And then suddenly there was an odd thump against the front of her car, and she heard a woman scream. Startled, she stomped hard on the brake, and as she jolted forward against her seat belt she looked around. There were people standing, staring ... they were staring at her ... at ... what were they looking at ... oh, my God! Two men were bending down, talking to someone right in front of her car. But she couldn't see. What was it? Oh, God, it couldn't ... she didn't ... but as she flew from her seat she knew.

  As she shakily ran to the front of the car, she saw him, a man in his early forties, lying prone on the street.

  She felt panic rise in her throat. She knelt next to the man, trying to keep from crying. He was well dressed in a dark business suit, and the contents of his attache case were strewn over the ground. "I'm sorry ... I'm sorry ... isn't there anything I can do?"

  The police were quiet and courteous when a few moments later they arrived on the scene. An ambulance appeared only five minutes after. The man was removed. Bettina's name and license number were recorded. The police spoke to the eyewitnesses, their names written down in a careful little list compiled by a left-handed cop who looked barely older than a boy.

  "Had you taken any medication this morning, miss?" The young policeman looked at her with wise eyes, but she shook her head and blew her nose in the handkerchief she had dug out of her bag.

  "No. Nothing."

  "One of the witnesses said he'd seen you stop a few minutes before, and you looked"--he gazed at her apologetically--"well, he said 'glazed.'"

  "I wasn't ... I was ... I was just thinking."

  "Were you upset?"

  "Yes ... no ... oh, I don't remember. I don't know." It was hard to tell if she had ever been rational, she was so distraught over what she had just done. "Will he be all right?"

  "We'll know more after he gets to the hospital. You can call later for a report."

  "What about me?"

  "Were you hurt?" He looked surprised.

  "No, I mean--" She looked up at him bleakly. "Are you going to arrest me?"

  He smiled gently. "No, we're not. It was an accident. You'll get a citation, and this will have to go to court."

  "To court?" She was horrified, and he nodded.

  "Other than the citation, your insurance company will probably handle most of it for you." And then more gravely, "You are insured?"

  "Of course."

  "Then, call your insurance agent this morning, and your attorney, and hope for the best." Hope for the best ... oh, God, how awful. What had she done?

  When at last they had gone, she slipped behind the wheel of her car, her hands still trembling violently and her mind whirling, as she thought of the man they had loaded into an ambulance only moments before. It seemed to take her hours to get to the gallery, and when she arrived, she didn't bother to throw open the door or turn on the lights. She rushed right to the telephone after firmly relocking the door behind her. She called her insurance agent, who seemed nonplussed. He assured her that her twenty thousand dollars' worth of coverage ought to be adequate to take care of the accident unless it were terribly serious.

  "Anyway, don't worry about it, well see."

  "How soon will I know?"

  "Know what?"

  "If he's going to sue mo."

  "As soon as he decides to let us know, Miss Daniels. Don't worry, you'll know."

  There were tears rolling down her face as Bettina dialed Seth Waterston in his office. He came on the line only moments after she placed the call.

  "Bettina?"

  "Oh, Seth. ..." It was a desperate, childlike wail. "I'm in trouble." She began to sob out of control.

  "Where are you?"

  "At the ... gall ... ery...." She could barely speak.

  "Now calm down and tell me what happened. Take a deep breath ... Bettina? ... Bettina! ... now talk to me...." For a moment he was afraid that she was in jail. He could think of nothing else to cause hysterics on that order.

  "I had an ... accident...."

  "Are you hurt?"

  "I hit a man with my car."

  "A pedestrian?"

  "Yes."

  "How badly is he hurt?"

  "I don't know."

  "What's the guy's name and where did they take him?"

  "Saint George's. And his name is"--she glanced at the little piece of paper given her by the police--"Bernard Zule."

  "Zule? Spell it." She did, and Seth sighed.

  "Do you know him?"

  "More or less. He's an attorney. You couldn't have hit some nice ignorant pedestrian? You had to hit a lawyer?" Seth tried to joke, but Bettina couldn't, and then as a wave of panic washed over her, she held the phone tighter.

  "Seth, promise me you won't tell John."

  "Why not, for God's sake? You didn't do it on purpose."

  "No, but he'll--he'll be upset ... or angry ... or ... please...." Her voice was so desperate that Seth promised, then hung up to call the hospital.

  Four hours later Seth called her at the gallery. Zule was all right. He had a broken leg. It was a nice clean break. A few bruises. No other damage. But Bernard Zule was a very angry man. He had already called his attorney and he fully intended to sue. Seth had talked to him himself. He had explained that the woman who had hit Zule was a personal friend, she was terribly concerned, very, very sorry, and she wanted to know if he was all right.

  "All right? That dumb fucking bitch runs me down in broad daylight, and then she wants to know if I'm all right? I'll tell her in court how all right I am."

  "Now, Bernard...." Seth's attempts at putting oil on the waters were of no avail, as Bettina learned three days later when she was served with papers for Zule's suit. He was suing her for two hundred thousand dollars for personal injury, inability to practice his profession, emotional trauma, and malicious intent. The malicious intent wasn't worth a damn, Seth assured her, she didn't even know Zule, after all. But it was a whopping big suit. He also told her that it could take a couple of years to come to court, by which time his fracture would be nothing but a dim memory. But it didn't make any difference. All Bettina could think of was the amount. Two hundred thousand dollars. If she sold every piece of jewelry she still owned, maybe she could pay it, but then what would she have? It reminded her of her panic after her father died, and it was all she could do to remain in control.

  "Bettina? Bettina! Did you hear me?"

  "Hmm? What?"

  "What's wrong with you?" John stared at her in annoyance, she had been like that for weeks.

  "I--I'm sorry ... I was distracted."

  'That's an understatement. You haven't heard a word I've said all night. What is it?" He didn't understand. She had been that way since the night he had proposed to her. It hardly cheered him to acknowledge that. And then, finally, at the end of the evening when he brought her home, he looked at her sadly. "Bettina, would you rather we didn't see each other for a while?"

  "No ... I--" And then, without wanting to, she let herself be pulled into his arms, as long, terrified sobs wracked her soul.

  "What is it? Oh, Betty ... tell me what it is ... I know something's wrong."

  "I ... oh, John, I can't tell you ... it's so awful ... I had an accident."

  "What kind of an accident?" His voice was stern.

  "In my car. I broke a man's leg."

  "You what?" He looked at her, shocked. "When?"

  "Three weeks ago."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  And then she hung her head. "I don't know."

  "Isn't your insurance handling it?"

  "I'm only insured for twenty thousand. He's suing me for"--her voice dropped still lower--"two hundred thousand."

  "Oh, my God." Quietly they both sat down. "Have you talked to Seth?" Silently she nodded. "And not to me. Oh, Betty." He pulled her closer into his arms. "Betty, Betty ... how could something like this happen to you?"

  "I don't know." But she did know. She had been thinking of the night befor
e when he'd proposed, and of how much she didn't want to get married, but she didn't tell him. "It was my fault."

  "I see. Well, it looks like we'll just have to face the music together, doesn't it?" He smiled down at her gently. She needed him, and that made him feel good.

  But she looked horrified as her eyes met his. "What do you mean together? Don't be crazy! I have to work this out by myself."

  "Don't you be crazy. And don't get yourself totally insane over this thing. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar lawsuit doesn't mean anything. He'll probably be happy to settle for ten."

  "I don't believe that." But she had to admit that Seth had told her something like that the day before. Not ten exactly, but maybe twenty.

  And as it turned out, they were right. Two weeks later Bernard Zule accepted the sum of eighteen thousand dollars to balm his nerves and his near-mended leg. The insurance company canceled Bettina's insurance, and she had to sell the small, inexpensive used car she had bought after she got her job. The sum of two hundred thousand dollars no longer shrieked in her head, but there was a feeling of defeat somehow, of failure, of having taken a giant step back, and not having been able to take care of herself. The pall of depression dragged on for weeks, and it was only two weeks before her divorce became final that John proposed to her again.

  "It makes sense, Bettina." And then, with rare humor, he grinned at her. "Look at it this way. You could drive my car."

  But she didn't even smile. He pushed on. "I love you, and you were born to be my wife." And Ivo's, and Anthony's.... She couldn't keep the thought from her mind. "I want you, Bettina." But she also knew that he thought she couldn't take care of herself. And in a way she had proven him right. She was incompetent. Perhaps dangerously so. Look at what she had just done. She had almost killed a man ... she never let that thought slip from her mind. "Bettina?" He was looking down at her. And then very gently he kissed her fingers and her lips, and then her eyes. "Will you marry me, Betty?"

  He could hear the sharp intake of breath, and then, with her eyes closed, she nodded. "Yes." Maybe he was right after all.