Bride in Barbados (21 page)

His hand on her shoulder pressed warmly against her skin,
making her aware of him in a way that she did not want to be. She
shrugged it off and turned around on the vanity stool to look up at
him. "I'll tell you why I haven't seen a doctor. At first, I tried to
convince myself I wasn't pregnant. Since I can't do that any longer,
I've been trying to decide what to do about it."

His eyes glinted with sudden anger. "If you mean what I
think you mean…"

"Yes, Travis, I gave serious consideration to an
abortion." She was lying, but she wanted to hurt him and it was the
only weapon at hand. "Unfortunately, I seem to have too many
old-fashioned hangups for that. Now it's too late." She rose and
started to walk away from him.

He grabbed her arm and whirled her about to face him. "If
you had destroyed this child, I'd have made you regret it!"

"You couldn't have made me regret it any more than I'll
regret having it," she said in a low voice. "If there was any other way
out of it, believe me, I'd take it."

His dark eyes glittered, and then she felt his grip relax.
"We have to stop cutting each other up like this, Susan. It can't be
good for you or the baby. Thousands of marriages have worked with far
less than we have going for us."

She twisted from his relaxed grip and walked across the
room to stand behind a chair. The padded back gave her something to
hang on to. "Do you think a good marriage can be built on sex alone?
We're good in bed. So what? I'm sure you can—and
do—find that with Kay—and others, for all I know.
Don't think that just because you overcame my resistance this afternoon
I'm willing to forgive and forget."

"This isn't the first time you've suggested that I'm
having an affair with Kay Harte. It isn't true. She's never been more
than a friend to me. As for overcoming your resistance," he added
mockingly, "you were as eager as I was, and you know it. I could make
you want me, even now." He took a step toward her, but she stopped him
with a shrill warning.

"Don't do it, Travis!" Tears sprang into her eyes and she
looked away, fighting to gain control of herself. She had been a
willing partner this afternoon. Even now, just the sight of him struck
a responsive chord in her. But she wouldn't let him own her. "I won't
give in to you again. Nothing has changed."

They faced each other for a long moment, resentment
stretching between them. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked
finally.

"I mean," she choked out, "that I hate this place and I'm
living for the day when I can leave."

All of the yielding left his face and was replaced by hard
resolve. "If you have any idea of taking my child away from here,
forget it!"

She leaned against the chair and covered her face with her
hands. "Leave me alone! You've gotten what you want from me, haven't
you?"

She didn't look up again until he ground out, "I won't be
home for dinner."

She lifted her face then and retorted with all the
bitterness of her pent-up rage, "Yes, run to sweet, understanding Kay!
I'm sure she'll sympathize and comfort you!"

"That's not a bad idea!" He slammed out of the room and
she sat down and gave in to tears of mingled fury and desperation.

She despised him! And herself even more because, God help
her, she still loved him. Would this torment never end? Was he really
going to Kay, or had he been speaking the truth when he had denied
having an affair with her? She told herself that it didn't matter
either way. After a few moments, she choked off the seemingly unending
flood of tears and made herself get ready for dinner. She had to get
control of her emotions, she told herself. Travis was right. Such inner
tumult couldn't be good for the baby.

Two days later, she kept the appointment Mala had made for
her in Bridgetown with the Sennett family physician. Dr. Elliott was a
small, balding man in his sixties whose calm, confident manner
immediately won Susan's trust. He gave her a thorough examination,
after scolding her for waiting so long for her initial visit. In his
office, after the examination, he told her that her blood count was a
little low, which no doubt accounted for the perpetual tiredness she
had noticed. He prescribed iron and vitamin tablets and gave her a list
of foods she should eat every day. Then he made another appointment for
a date three weeks away.

Within a week, everyone who knew Travis seemed to have
heard of her pregnancy. Almost every time she went into town someone
who had been at Jonathan's dinner party stopped her with
congratulations. She tried to accept all the kind words with some
semblance of grace, telling herself that everyone meant well, but it
was difficult, Jonathan, whom she met for lunch or an afternoon drive
almost every week, helped by just being there when she needed to talk.

She found a maternity shop and bought an adequate wardrobe
for the coming months, but she had little joy in the selection. In
fact, she had little joy in anything, it seemed. She felt as if she had
put her life on hold and was just marking time until the baby came.
Although Travis joined her for dinner almost every
evening
and, occasionally, took her out for dinner in a restaurant or to a
friend's house, he seemed to have accepted her statement that nothing
had changed between them. He made no effort to share her bed as the
weeks dragged by.

Even though the state of affairs was just as she had vowed
she wanted it, she suffered from mixed reactions. As her body changed
and became cumbersome, she told herself that Travis no longer found her
attractive. She should be grateful for not having to fight him off
anymore but, for some strange reason, she wasn't.

One afternoon, late in the seventh month of her pregnancy,
she slipped away from the house to a private beach on the Sennett
property. She had been walking a mile or two every day, as her doctor
had advised, but walking seemed particularly unattractive that
afternoon and she decided to exercise by swimming.

No one ever used the private beach except for Travis, so
there was no danger of anyone seeing her in her maternity swimsuit. The
designer had done everything possible to make the one-piece suit
attractive and had tried to disguise the wearer's bulging stomach with
a short overskirt in front that fell from beneath the breasts. But when
a woman is seven months along, no swim wear ever made can completely
disguise the fact.

When she reached the beach, she removed her loose,
sleeveless coverup, dropped it on the sand with her beach towel and
waded into the water. She stayed near the shore, never venturing out
into water that was over her head, and swam for a short time. She soon
began to tire, though, and stretched out on the towel on her back to
sun herself.

This was the position in which Travis found her awhile
later. He came upon her without warning and was spreading his own beach
towel beside hers when she realized she was not alone and her eyes flew
open. She sat up abruptly. "I thought you had a meeting at the bank
this afternoon."

"It was over a half hour ago. When I got back to the
house, Mala told me where you'd gone." He was sitting with his knees
drawn up, his arms resting carelessly on them. His skin looked as dark
as copper in contrast to the pale beige swim trunks he wore. "I don't
think it's a good idea for you to swim alone, especially in your
condition."

She reached for her coverup, slipping it on over her suit
and pulling the front edges together over her stomach. "I didn't go out
far, and I stopped as soon as I began to feel tired. I won't do
anything foolish."

His eyes, shot through with gold in the sunlight, raked
over her. "There's always the danger of a cramp. If you'll let me know
when you want to come swimming, I'll arrange things so I can come with
you."

The solicitous manner that he had adopted toward her since
he'd learned of her pregnancy made her feel self-conscious. Somehow she
resented it. She gazed out over the water and wondered what she
did
want from him. Would she prefer that he ignore her condition, treat her
unkindly? No, not that. In her mind a small
voice
taunted,
You want him to treat you like a woman again, admit
it. You want him back in your bed
.

Perhaps a trace of the treacherous admission showed in her
face, for Travis suddenly reached out and brushed the damp hairs away
from her forehead with incredible tenderness. Then he bent to kiss her
temple gently. "I care about what happens to you, Susan," he murmured
softly. "It isn't only the baby."

Self-pitying tears tightened her throat. Lord, she was
turning into a pathetic, weepy woman, and she had always hated them.
"I—I'm fine. Dr. Elliott says so." She shifted away from him.

"Is my touch so repulsive to you?" That she had offended
him was evident in the tightness of his tone. Well, she couldn't help
it. She was too busy holding herself together to worry about his hurt
feelings.

She darted a quick glance at him. "I don't want your pity,
Travis. You don't have to pretend that you find me attractive. I know
how clumsy and ugly I am now."

He laughed suddenly and pulled her head down on his
shoulder. "Idiot! Don't you know that the woman who's carrying a man's
child is always beautiful to him?"

Susan felt as though she would burst into tears any minute
at his unexpected kindness. He
did
feel sorry for
her. And, as usual, his thoughts were on the baby. She couldn't bear
it, and she scrambled to her feet, snatching up her towel. "I've had
enough sun; I'm going back to the house. See you at dinner."

If he replied, she didn't hear him as she walked away. She
had mastered the desire to weep by the time she reached the house. But
a deep unhappiness remained as she bathed and dressed for dinner.

What was she going to do after the baby was born? The day
would soon be upon her when she could no longer put off making a
decision. She thought that Travis would let her go, provided she left
the baby behind. Could she do that? Could she stand the thought of some
other woman—Mala, or a second wife for Travis-caring for her
child, loving it, giving it the things a mother should give? What would
the baby think of her as he grew up? Wouldn't he, like Travis, think
that his mother had traded him for her freedom? Inevitably, he would
come to hate her.

She sighed helplessly. She didn't think she would be able
to leave the baby, anyway. She would have to take him and run away.
But, deep down, she knew that Travis would not rest until he had found
them and brought the child back to Barbados.

Dear God, it was an impossible dilemma. Once again, she
could not make a decision and she buried the distressing thoughts. She
still had time before she had to decide.

Christmas came and went with a depressing similarity to
all the days before it. They had a tree and exchanged gifts, but Susan,
in the final weeks of her pregnancy, refused almost all social
invitations, of which there were many during the holiday season.

She had always thought that a tropical climate must be the
next best thing to heaven. On Christmas Day the temperature was in the
80's, just as it had been in the spring when she'd come to the
plantation as Travis's wife, and she realized that she was beginning to
find the "heavenly" climate a little monotonous.

How she would have welcomed a heavy snowfall, she told
herself, smiling at the impossibility of it. Anyway, it probably wasn't
the climate at all that was making her feel so blue. It was her
physical discomfort. Little aches seemed to assail every part of her
body, her back and legs particularly. Although she had gained only
fifteen pounds, it was all in front, and she felt huge and unbalanced.
On her most recent visit to the doctor she had asked worriedly if he
had detected more than one heartbeat. Dr. Elliott had laughed and
assured her, "No, Susan. You're going to have only one baby. Take my
word for it."

One morning late in January Jonathan phoned to ask if she
felt like having lunch with him in Bridgetown. The prospect of getting
out of the house for an hour or two was strongly appealing, and she
agreed.

She pinned her hair atop her head and wore a white tent
dress with low-heeled sandals. She'd given up high heels weeks ago when
her feet had developed a tendency to swell.

When Jonathan handed her into his car, he said, "You look
lovely, as usual, my dear."

Susan settled against the seat, trying to catch her
breath, and laughed. "What a charming liar you are, Jonathan! Bless
you, you've made me feel better already."

In deference to her condition, he took her to a secluded
restaurant on the outskirts of Bridgetown. Since eating almost anything
made Susan feel stuffed these days, she ordered a small chef's salad.
They were having a cup of coffee to finish the meal when Curt Winston
appeared in the doorway of the restaurant, squinting from having come
into the dimness from the bright sunlight. After a moment, his eyes
fell on Susan and Jonathan, and he smiled and walked over to their
table.

"What a pleasant surprise, running into the two of you.
Susan, you're looking well." The men shook hands. "I've tried to phone
you at your office several times lately, Jonathan. I wanted us to get
together for a talk."

"I've neglected business since before Christmas, I'm
afraid," Jonathan told him. "Sit down, Curt." He glanced at Susan. "You
don't mind, do you?"

She shook her head, wondering why Curt was still in town
when Violet had gone. She hadn't seen or heard of him in weeks.
Evidently his business with Jonathan was not yet settled.

"Why have you been trying to reach me?" Jonathan asked.

Curt darted an apologetic look at Susan. "I don't want to
bore Susan by talking business."