Belle Pointe. Karen Young

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      What about their baby? Didn’t he feel an obligation there? She felt her heart sink. To her mind, the threat to their baby overruled everything else, but he was worried about disappointing a bunch of people who, if he’d just go in there and explain, would probably understand what was at stake. But from the look on his face, that wasn’t going to happen. His agent would be aghast and Jacks management wouldn’t be too happy either.

      “Be reasonable, Anne,” he pleaded, looking at his watch. “It’s too late to walk out.”

      “And I’m sorry, but the baby—” Words caught in her throat as she sighed. “I just don’t want to risk losing this baby, Buck.”

      “Jesus.” He stood for a minute, thinking. Anne saw there was nothing on his face to reveal the gravity of their conversation. He had to be stunned to learn he was going to be a father, but he was so conditioned to keeping his feelings under wraps that she couldn’t tell one way or another. “Can you hold on for thirty or forty minutes? I’ll be done with the speech and as for the party afterward at the commissioner’s house, I’ll make some excuse for us to skip it.”

      “Oh, Buck…” Her voice caught and she fought back tears. She didn’t have his expertise at hiding her emotions. “I know it’s awkward,” she said, pleading with him, “but I’m sure they’ll understand when you tell them it’s an emergency.”

      “But is it really? You said yourself you’re not sure.” He frowned, struck with another thought. “You don’t need to go to the hospital, do you? It’s not that serious, is it?”

      “I don’t know whether it’s serious or not, Buck,” she said, with bitter disappointment. “I just know my doctor told me if there was any spotting I was to go to bed immediately.”

      “And you will.” He started back, taking her hand. “It’ll be okay to delay it an hour or so, won’t it? I’ll cut the talk short.”

      She leaned into his shoulder and gave a dispirited sigh. “I guess another thirty or forty minutes won’t make much difference.”

      “You’ll be sitting down the whole time,” he said, throwing a reassuring arm around her shoulders. He was already guiding her across the floor toward the doors. Before entering, he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. “C’mon, beautiful, let’s knock ’em dead.”

      It was the longest forty minutes of her life. While waiting for Buck to make his excuses after the speech, she’d gone again to the powder room and found fresh spotting. Although it was still minimal, she was scared. Desperate to leave, she caught his eye across the ballroom and something in her face must have told him she was nearing the end of her rope. With a last quiet word to Gene Winston, he started toward her. She had to admire his skill in avoiding the many attempts to hail him in passing. Finally, he reached her and, with a flash of his famous smile, slipped his arm around her waist and whisked her away.

      “You okay?” Buck said, as they pulled away from the hotel.

      “I’m not sure. I just need to get home.”

      “You can recline that seat,” he told her.

      At least she was now in a prone position, she thought. Buck was quiet, winding his way toward the interstate ramp. Once on a straight stretch, he opened up the Porsche with a roar. He liked speed and tended to exceed the legal limit, especially when he was upset. “How could you be pregnant? Did you forget to take the Pill?”

      “No, it was nothing like that.”

      Hearing something in her voice, he glanced at her. “Then what?”

      She thought about asking him to wait until they got home, but maybe it was best to get it behind them now. “It isn’t an accident that I’m pregnant, Buck,” she said quietly. “I quit taking the Pill.”

      In the muted glow of the dash, she saw his features darken in a fierce frown. “You quit? Just like that?”

      “Not just like that.” Her hand rested protectively on her abdomen. “I didn’t do it on a whim. I thought about it a long time.”

      “I wish you’d thought to consult me.” Not quite openly sarcastic, but close.

      “I’m not proud of the way I went about it, Buck ,and for what it’s worth, I apologize. We’ve gone round and round about this forever and you always come up with a thousand reasons to put off having a child. I knew what your answer would be if I told you.” With both her hands cradling her abdomen, she longed to make him understand. “I’m thirty-four years old, Buck. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be for me to conceive.”

      “I thought we agreed to put off having kids.”

      “For how many years? Another four or five? Eight? Ten?” She swallowed disappointment. She’d so longed for a joyous reaction from Buck, but she now had to let that wish go. “It was your idea to wait, Buck, not mine.”

      “So you just decided to ignore my wishes and go ahead with your idea.”

      She turned away. They were in open country now and she was looking at total darkness. “I guess that’s one way to put it,” she said quietly.

      “I don’t see any other way to put it,” he said, shifting restlessly in his seat. “This is something we should have decided together, Anne. Having a baby isn’t like going to the pound and picking out a puppy. A baby changes everything in a couple’s life.”

      “And would it be such a bad thing to change our life, Buck?”

      He gave her a quick look. “Does that mean you think something is missing?” When she took too long to answer, he added, “I guess you do. And you think having a baby will make it all better? Don’t you think that’s a bit naive?”

      “Maybe to you, but not to me,” she said, bracing as he down-shifted and shot past a huge semitrailer truck. If she’d been uncertain about his state of mind, she now had no doubt that he was angry. “You should slow down, Buck,” she cautioned.

      He did…barely. “I didn’t realize you were so miserable,” he said after a moment.

      She thought about that, trying to fix on her feelings before deciding to get pregnant without telling him. Slightly bored? Somewhat unfulfilled? She’d had an interesting and successful career as a television journalist when she first met Buck at a Special Olympics event. She’d asked for that assignment when her research had revealed that Buck Whitaker was from Tallulah, Mississippi. During the civil rights struggle, her father, a journalist, had spent a summer in Tallulah with a PBS crew from Boston filming a documentary. Anne had grown up listening to him tell about his experience, which had so influenced him that he’d later written a book about it. She’d been thrilled at a chance to meet someone from Tallulah.

      She studied Buck’s profile now, sternly set. So unlike that day at the Special Olympics when he’d smiled constantly at the kids. He had been so kind, so natural and at ease with them. She’d thought then what a great father he’d make. And within six months of that meeting, they’d been married.

      Deep in her thoughts now, she was blind to the view out her window. She supposed other people might look at her situation and say she had it all. She was married to a pro baseball superstar who was generous and loving. He never forgot her birthday or their anniversary. He was outgoing СКАЧАТЬ