Blessing in Disguise

by Danielle Steel

  “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day you came here two months ago, but I didn’t want to frighten you or myself.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Putnam,” she whispered to him in the moonlight. “I love you. I have almost since the first day.”

  “I love you too. But I want to be honest with you. We’re never going to have a life together. And no matter how much I love you, I’ll never marry you and I won’t ask you to stay. I can’t. I’m too damaged. There’s a part of me missing, something in me died, in the accident, and even before that. Or maybe I never had that piece that makes people want to be together. I’ve always been different, even as a boy. I need to be alone. I don’t want to disappoint you. There’s no future with me, this is all I’ve got to give. A month together for now, and then you’ll have to go. Can you live with that, Isabelle, without having it break your heart?”

  “I can live with it,” she said softly, although a part of her didn’t believe him and wondered if he’d change his mind one day, after he’d known the warmth of love again. But he was more deeply wounded than she thought.

  “Then come and stay. Give up your room in town, and stay with me until you go. Don’t say anything at the gallery.” They were closing for the month of August anyway, which was why her internship was set to be over at the end of July. “What will you tell your father?”

  “I’ll think of something, like they asked me to stay on as part of a skeleton crew for August. He’ll understand. He never stands in the way of what I want to do, especially if it’s to learn something, or gain experience that will look good later on my CV.” She had never lied to her father, but she was willing to this time, to be with Putnam. She would have done anything for him. He needed her, and she wanted him.

  Three days later, she had arrived on the train with both her bags. She had sent her books home to Newport, with a few mementoes from her year in Paris. Putnam picked her up at the station in his silver Rolls, and Marcel looked stunned when she arrived. Putnam hadn’t told him that she was moving in for a month, and he asked Marcel to put her things in one of the guest suites, to give her space to move around. She would be staying in his room with him. She opened the shutters and fluffed things up, arranged some flowers from the garden in vases and put them in the rooms he used, and instantly became a ray of sunlight in the house. Even Marcel smiled from time to time.

  Their month together at the château was as perfect as they both had hoped it would be. They swam and walked and dreamed, sailed in his boat. They took long drives in the countryside, and lay on the beach below his house, and made love all night until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. She wasn’t a virgin, as she had said, but she wasn’t experienced either, and he taught her the wonders of lovemaking as though discovering them for the first time himself.

  She was totally at ease with him, made him laugh as he hadn’t in years, turning his mornings into something glorious, and his nights into passion. Marcel smiled now when he saw her, knowing how happy she made his employer. He was a changed man, or seemed to be. She learned more about Putnam from living with him. He read a great deal and was knowledgeable on a multitude of subjects. And although he couldn’t tolerate the company of his fellow man, he was deeply compassionate about those less fortunate than he and contributed large amounts of money, mostly to causes which involved children and young people, and populations living in extreme poverty. He had paid to feed whole villages in third world countries and improve their living conditions. He explained some of it to Isabelle, and she was vastly impressed. He was a kind man, committed to doing good in the world, and wanted no credit for it. He had never worked, and managed his investments and many philanthropies well.

  * * *

  —

  As August drew near to a close, reality hit them both. She had promised her father to be back for the Labor Day weekend, and true to his word in the beginning, Putnam did not ask her to stay. She more than half hoped he would, or that he would be so miserable without her after she left that he would beg her to come back, but he had been honest about himself. He had wanted a month with her, and no more.

  On their last night together, he had held her in his arms and cried. “I don’t want you to go,” he said in a tone of anguish that tore at her heart, “but I can’t ask you to stay. I know I can’t do it, and I would only disappoint you. At some point, I have to go back into my cave.”

  “I can wait,” she said, crying herself.

  “Don’t. I don’t ever want you to do that. You belong in the world, Isabelle, I don’t. I can’t. You’re young and full of life. You deserve everything life has in store for you, all the good things. But everything you need and should have is what I can’t do or be. I will never forget these months with you, and I’ll love you forever…but you can’t stay. You would come to hate me in the end.”

  “I will never hate you, Put. I love you just as you are.” She meant it when she said it.

  “Then you have to go tomorrow, without looking back, without asking for more or trying to stay. My heart goes with you. You’ve already had the best of me, I don’t have more in me to give than this.”

  “It’s enough,” she said, and meant it for a moment, although in her heart of hearts she wanted more, just as he knew she would. But she loved him enough to respect his wishes and go.

  There were tears in her eyes the next day when she said goodbye to Marcel, and he looked gloomy as he carried her bags to the car.

  “We will miss you, mademoiselle,” he said grimly, and waved as he watched them drive away. Putnam took her to the train and held her so tightly she could hardly breathe, told her he loved her, and helped her board with both her bags. He stood waving for as long as she could see him. When she got to Paris, she took a bus to the airport, and felt lost when she got there, and heartbroken to leave, as he had feared she would. But she was going, just as she had promised him. She called him from the airport, but Marcel said he was out on his boat, and he wished her a safe journey again. She boarded the plane to Boston, feeling dazed by how much she loved Putnam, the three months she had spent with him, and particularly their last month of living together. But just as he had warned her from the beginning, their dream had come to an end. Putnam was a man of his word.

  Chapter Two

  Isabelle’s father was waiting for her at the Boston airport. She hadn’t seen him in a year, but he looked no different than he had when she’d left. He said he’d been busy for the whole month of August. His employers had left a few days earlier.

  “It’s just as well you stayed in France. They had house guests for the entire month, and new projects they wanted to work on with me. They want to change the whole south garden, put in an orchard, and extend the stables. He’s getting into racehorses now. She wants the whole ground floor repainted, and they had me moving paintings around. I haven’t stopped for a month,” he said as he hugged his daughter tight. “So how’s my little Parisian? For a minute when you delayed coming home to work at the gallery in August, I thought maybe you’d fallen in love with a French boy,” he teased her. She shook her head with tears in her eyes and turned away so he didn’t see. Putnam was no “French boy.” He was far more than that, but she knew her father would never understand her falling in love with a reclusive man twenty-seven years older than she was, who had sworn to her that there was no future in their relationship. From the moment she’d landed, Putnam had become a cherished secret. She loved him more than ever, even though she knew there was no hope. Perhaps more because of it. He was the impossible dream, the man she loved and knew she could never have. He had just proven it to her when he’d made her leave.

  Her father found her unusually quiet once she was home, but he put it down to travel fatigue, how busy she’d been at her job, and culture shock after a year in France. He was sure she’d be fine once she got back to school. Five days after she arrived, she took the train to New York to s
tart her senior year at NYU. She felt more disconnected once she was there. She cried all the time and wrote to Putnam whenever she could, trying not to sound needy and pathetic, which only made her cry more. She was exhausted being back in school, although the Sorbonne had been just as hard. She often fell asleep at night with the lights on and could barely keep up with the work. After a month of tears and exhaustion and missing Put, she started to feel physically sick.

  He sounded no better in the letters he wrote her. He was deep in his cave again. He said he missed her terribly and the house was a tomb without her. But she knew that however miserable he was, his solitude was familiar and comfortable, like a shroud he had wrapped himself in and refused to shed. It was frustrating knowing that all she had to do was go back, and they’d both be happy again, but he wouldn’t let that happen. He had had more than his quota of happiness and couldn’t bear any more. He had to retreat into the darkness again, for reasons of his own.

  The first month of school was agony, and the second month was worse, although she didn’t tell her father. On the first of November, she realized what had happened. She had denied it to herself since she’d left France. She was two months pregnant, and it must have happened in their final days together. With trembling knees she went to the infirmary and had a blood test, praying she wasn’t pregnant, and hoping she was at the same time. If she was, what would she do then? He had already told her she had no future with him—but what if there was a child? Would he let her come back then?

  She called for the results of the test the next day, and after they told her it was positive she went to her dorm room to lie down. She was in shock. She had some serious thinking to do. This explained everything she’d been feeling for the past two months, the crying, the fatigue, and the nausea she’d been experiencing for the past few weeks. But at least Putnam wasn’t a child, he was a man. Sooner or later she knew she’d have to tell him and see how he felt about it, and if the news would change his mind about them. She didn’t want to make any decisions without him. She had nowhere to turn. She didn’t want to tell her father until she had spoken to Put. He had a right to know first.

  She spent two weeks of sleepless nights and then called him in France. She hadn’t been to a doctor yet, but had calculated that the baby was due in May, with luck right after graduation, so she could finish her senior year and get her diploma. That is, unless he wanted her back in France immediately, which was what she really hoped. She hadn’t gotten pregnant on purpose and they’d been relatively careful, but relatively wasn’t good enough.

  She called him late at night his time, and she knew he’d be up. The sound of his voice rippled through her like gentle waves. He was surprised to hear her. He had told her he preferred writing letters to talking on the phone, and she had respected that since she’d left.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked her. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Yes…no…I don’t know. There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, detesting the sound of her own voice. There was silence at his end. “I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, but I just found out I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh my God.” She could hear the panic in his voice. He sounded like a horse about to bolt. “How did that happen?…Never mind, stupid question, I know how it happened.” She smiled at that. “What are you going to do now? Is it too late for an abortion?” He had counted backward too. She was almost three months pregnant, it wouldn’t be possible after that.

  “I was in denial for a couple of months. I thought I just missed you. Turns out it’s more serious than that. Do you want me to come back?” There was no point beating around the bush, she needed to know, and his answer was instantaneous.

  “No, I don’t. I love you as much as ever, but I told you, I can’t do that. I can’t handle marriage or full-time anything, let alone the responsibility of a child. I’m not going to force you to have an abortion. I can’t do that. You have a right to do what you think best, but your coming back to me now, pregnant, or with a baby six months from now would drive me right over the edge. I know what I can’t handle, and that’s it. If you decide to have it, I’ll help you of course, and provide for the baby, but I’m not able to be part of your life, or a child’s. Please don’t base your decision on me.” He was as honest as he had been since the beginning, and as she listened to him, she cried. She had hoped for more than that from him. But he had always been honest with her about how impaired he was. “We should have been more careful, it’s my fault that we weren’t.” He took full responsibility for that, but not for what would come next. He had made it clear. She had to face this on her own. She wanted to be honest with him too.

  “I went through something like this five years ago, when I lost my virginity. I made some terrible mistakes then, and I don’t want to make the same ones again. I was a kid and I had no choice. My father decided what he thought was best, and he was wrong. I can’t do that again. I love you. I’m going to have the baby, Put. I just can’t see doing anything else.” She was sobbing as she said it, and he felt terrible for her, but it didn’t change his mind.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Isabelle. I’m not going to leave you stranded, or deny our child. But I can’t take it on either. Marriage or our living together with a baby is not in the cards.”

  “I understand.” She said it, but didn’t really.

  “Are you truly going to have it?” He sounded devastated, for her as well as himself.

  “I have to, Put. I can’t do anything else.”

  “What happened before?” He was worried about her, and she had never told him about it except to say she had made a mistake in the past.

  “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. I was fifteen. I’m grown up now. The baby is due in May. I can finish senior year and graduate, stay with my dad and take the summer to get organized, and then get a job in the fall.”

  “I’ll give you whatever you need,” he said without hesitating.

  “I don’t want anything for myself, just for the baby. I’m not going to be a burden to you, and I don’t want you to think I did this to get something from you.”

  “Well, you certainly did that,” he said, teasing her for a minute, and she smiled through her tears. “No one’s ever been pregnant by me before.” He sounded shocked. “I never thought I’d have a child. You should think about this for the next few weeks, and make sure it’s what you want to do. And even if you had a difficult abortion before, it could be fine this time.” She didn’t answer for a minute, and there was iron in her voice when she did.

  “I’m not getting rid of our baby, Put. I love you. I can handle this.” She sounded sure and he was stunned by her strength.

  “Have you told your father?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Well, keep in touch and let me know what you decide.”

  “I already did,” she said quietly, angry at him for a minute. She had been hoping to hear “Come home,” not “Keep in touch.” But his message was clear and always had been. If she had this baby, she would be doing it alone. He would provide financial help, which she was grateful for, but he would not be around or part of their child’s life, or hers. She wasn’t even sure if he would ever want to see it, and suspected now that he might not. She was on her own.

  “Do you want me to send you something now?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t need anything until the baby is born, and I’m going to work, Put. I’m not expecting you to support me now. That isn’t part of the deal.”

  “We’ll talk about that in a few months. And for God’s sake, take care of yourself. Should you drop out of school?”

  “Of course not. I need a degree to get a decent job.”

  “I’m so sorry, Isabelle. This is rough. I didn’t want this to happen to you. I loved our time together, but it comes at too high a price for you.”


  “No, it doesn’t. Maybe this was my destiny, to have your child.” She was serious when she said it.

  “God help the child. I hope it’s nothing like me,” he said, sounding sad, and hating himself for what he didn’t have to give. Isabelle deserved better than that, and he knew it. “Let me know how you are,” he said seriously. “And as hard as it may be to believe, I love you, to the best of my abilities.”

  “I love you too.” They hung up a minute later, and she lay on her bed thinking of everything they’d said. In an instant, her path in life had changed. She was no longer a student, hoping to find a job, meet a good man, and get married one day. She was going to be a mother, unmarried, with a child to take care of and think about before all else, and whoever she met and fell in love with in the future would have to accept her with the child she had given birth to out of wedlock. It was what her father had tried to spare her at fifteen, and now here she was again.

  She told her father when she went home for Thanksgiving. He was stunned. He wanted to know who the father was, if she had contacted him, and what his reaction had been.

  “I assume he’s some French kid you met at the Sorbonne,” her father said, sounding weary. Isabelle shook her head.

  “No, he’s American, and very much an adult. He loves me, but he doesn’t want to get married or have a baby. He’ll help me financially, but he can’t have us in his life.” Her father was furious at that.

  “Is he married?”

  “No, he’s not. He just can’t handle it emotionally. He warned me of that from the beginning. I’m not sure I believed him at first, but I know that he can’t do it, Dad. I’m going to have the baby on my own.”

  “We’ve been down this road before, Isabelle,” he said angrily.

  “I’m not going down the same road again, Dad. I’m not fifteen anymore. I have to make my own decisions this time. For everyone’s sake. I can do this,” she said firmly as her father shook his head.