Happy Birthday (17 page)

He took her back to her apartment over the restaurant, and remembered all too easily what had happened there four months before. There were moments like tonight when he was tempted to reach out to her again, and do it right this time, because he cared about her and respected her, not because of the wine. But he thought it was too late for a fresh start. His baby was already growing in her belly. He had done enough damage. They had both made a terrible mistake. He didn’t want to make another one by starting with her all over again. He kissed her on the forehead, and left her on the stairs to her apartment. He seemed overwhelmed with sadness when he left. She wondered if he’d actually show up at the doctor’s appointment the next day. But at least now they were slowly becoming friends. She had thoroughly enjoyed her evening with him.

She saw Ellen for acupuncture the next morning, who commented that the baby was turning into a good-sized bump. Neither of them could guess what sex it was, although Ellen said she might be able to tell from her pulses later on. April said she hoped it was going to be a girl. If she was going to be alone with it, a girl would be easier for her. Mike had stated no preference, since he didn’t want the baby at all.

They had a full house at the restaurant that day for lunch, and a problem with one of their refrigerators, which had almost
made her late. The repairman was just walking in when she left. She got to the doctor’s five minutes after four, and Mike wasn’t there. She was almost certain he wouldn’t come. They were just weighing her, when she heard someone asking for her at the desk. It was Mike. She came out to the waiting room to meet him with a smile. She had gained ten pounds in the last four months. She was allowed to gain twenty-five in the next five. She was going to start gaining real weight from now on.

Mike looked pained as they sat in the waiting room with other women with enormous pregnant bellies. By the time they went in to see the doctor, he looked pale and as though he were about to bolt. April introduced him to her doctor, who was pleasant and easygoing, and she agreed to do a quick sonogram so Mike could see the baby for himself. April hadn’t felt it move yet, although the doctor explained that she would in the next few weeks. But Mike had never put a hand on her stomach, and April doubted he ever would again. She told herself that he was there not so much as the baby’s father, but as an interested friend.

The doctor left April and Mike with the technician, and after emptying her bladder, April came back into the room wearing a cotton gown. She got onto the table so they could put the gel on her, and she saw that Mike looked away. Nothing was exposed except her long legs and her gently rounded belly, and then once the machine was on, the technician rolled the wand around on her abdomen, and the baby appeared on the screen. Mike was staring at it with total fascination. It looked like a baby, was
curled up, but you could see its head, its back, its arms and legs, its hands and feet. And the rhythmic thump of the heart beating was equally clear. They could hear it through the microphone. He looked at April with amazement, then went back to staring at the screen. She was smiling at him, feeling the wand move around her belly in the cold gel, so he could see the child that was growing in her. The baby they had conceived together as an accident had never seemed more real, not only to her, but now to him.

Mike didn’t say a word as this time the technician handed him the picture to take home with him. He didn’t ask any questions, he just stared at it as April followed him out of the room. She was glad he had come with her, and somehow she was hoping he would be less angry and frightened about it.

He followed April into the exam room, dropped the photograph from the sonogram into the wastebasket, and looked from April to the doctor. April thought that he looked sick, and there was a thin film of perspiration on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, looking at April, “I can’t do this. I just can’t. This is a terrible mistake.” And then without another word, he left the room. April followed him. He had already crossed the waiting room with long strides, and the door closed as she stood there in the gown, and she then ran back into the exam room and burst into tears. She apologized profusely to the doctor, who reassured her that these things happened. Some men were too shaken up by the responsibility facing them to
easily embrace the idea. But April knew it was more than that. It was raw terror, and an absolute refusal to have anything to do with this baby. He just couldn’t, and she had the sudden feeling that she would never see him again.

The doctor examined her quickly so she could leave. She told April that everything was fine. Ten minutes later April was crying as she walked down the street. She took a cab back to the restaurant, and she was still crying when Mike texted her. She knew that taking him to the doctor had been a huge mistake. His text to her said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” He wanted to tell her she should never have decided to keep it, but there was no point saying that again. It was too late to change that now, and she wouldn’t anyway. She didn’t when she had the chance. He felt totally betrayed by her and this hideous quirk of fate. And April had the overwhelming sensation that he would disappear this time for good.

She went back to the restaurant looking shaken and depressed, and more frightened than she’d ever been. It was clear that Mike wanted no part of this. She hadn’t counted on him in the beginning, but the worst part now was that she realized she was falling in love with him, maybe in part because of the baby, but also because she really liked him. Losing him now suddenly really mattered. And she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Chapter 11

J
ack called Valerie the morning after their dinner at April’s and asked her if she would like to see a movie with him on New Year’s Eve. He wasn’t feeling up to going out again, he admitted, but he had a full-scale movie theater in his apartment, and had an assortment of films currently in the theaters that he thought she might like to see. It sounded like fun to her, and she had nothing else to do. April would be working that night, as she always did, and Valerie didn’t like going out on New Year’s Eve. Staying in and watching a movie with Jack sounded like the perfect way to spend the evening. And he was looking forward to it too. He said he’d have food brought in for them. Something a little more elaborate than April’s this time, just to make the evening more festive. But he told Valerie to relax and come in jeans. They didn’t need to show off, they could just spend a quiet
night at home. She loved the idea. She didn’t say anything to April about her plans for that night. It wasn’t a big deal.

When Valerie showed up at his apartment, the nurse he still had to assist him let her in. Jack was on his crutches in the kitchen, organizing dinner, and doing surprisingly well getting around, considering what he’d been through.

He looked up, happy to see her. He had decided to cook for her himself. He had ordered caviar, oysters, and cracked crab, he was making pasta to go with it, and had made a huge salad, which was sitting in a bowl. It looked like a real feast as he poured her a flute of Cristal champagne and handed it to her. He looked pale but well.

“Well, you’ve been busy,” Valerie said, smiling at him. “What can I do to help?” It looked like he’d already done everything. The food was already on platters.

“Your daughter says you’re a menace in the kitchen,” he teased her, and she laughed. “Maybe you’d better just sit down.” He was hobbling around, but managing well despite the crutches, and once in a while, he hopped from place to place on his good leg to take the pressure off the bad one.

“Why don’t you let me do something, at least hand you things if you don’t trust me? You’re going to hurt yourself.” Valerie looked worried about him, and he grinned. He was used to taking care of others, not having women take care of him, but he liked her motherly look of concern, which was new to him.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “You can set the table if you want.”

“Ah, now that’s something I’m good at,” she said confidently, as he pointed to a cupboard where the placemats and china were kept. He had assorted colors and motifs, and she picked gray linen mats, and napkins with silver threads in them, and put them on the round glass table at the far end of the kitchen, in front of the view of Central Park. It was a huge room, with a fabulous view, even better than hers. He was a few blocks north of where she lived, but on a much higher floor. He could see east and west to both rivers, and all across Central Park. It was a perfect bachelor pad. He walked her into a wood-paneled office a few minutes later, after she set the table, to show her shelves of trophies and awards covering one wall. He looked like a kid when he proudly pointed at them, and she was bowled over by how many there were.

“The rest of them are in the safe,” he said vaguely, as she looked at them with interest and read what they were for. They covered some of the high points of his career and he assured her there were many more, with a childlike grin. It was kind of a “Look, Ma! See what I did!” She found it both impressive and endearing. She realized that was who he was, a man of major accomplishments, with a boyish heart, and she liked that about him.

“You’re a very important man,” she said, as she turned to smile at him. There was an innocence about him that touched her, even though he was bragging and they both knew it.

“Yes, I am.” He grinned, looking boyish and happy with himself. “But so are you, Ms. Wyatt. You’re as important as I am.”

Their budding friendship was an even match in many ways. He had always gone out with women who were impressed with who he was, but had accomplished nothing much themselves. They were too young to have done anything yet, except in some cases model. That was the problem with going out with very young women. They didn’t provide much of a challenge or bring anything to the table except their looks and their bodies. Valerie was far more interesting, and he didn’t mind the ten-year gap in their age. He didn’t feel as though she were any older, and she didn’t look it. They looked roughly the same age. He wouldn’t have admitted it to her, but he had had his eyes done and got Botox shots too. Maintaining his youthful looks was an important part not only of his career as a sportscaster but of his dating life too. It was one thing to be older than the girls he went out with, but he didn’t want to look it. Or not too old anyway.

He walked Valerie back to the kitchen then, and she finished setting the table. She put silver candlesticks on it, and lit the candles, and selected plates with a wide silver band. Everything he had was elegant but masculine, and of the best quality that was made. While going through the cupboard, she had noticed that his candlesticks and flatware were from Cartier, and the plates were from Tiffany and had been made for him in Paris and had his name on the underside. He was a man who liked expensive things and the best of what life had to offer, and he had style and taste. He had come a long way from his early days as a football player, and had acquired a patina of sophistication, but he
still had a natural simple side to him too. It was what women loved about him. He was very smooth but still real.

He hobbled over on his crutches and checked out the table, and nodded with approval. “You set a lovely table. Not everyone can say that Valerie Wyatt set their dinner table. I’m honored,” he said, and she laughed and took another sip of the champagne. She was enjoying her evening with him, and he looked happy to be with her, and very much at ease.

She took the platters he had filled and set them around the table, and a few minutes later he turned down the lights and put on some music, and they sat down. The nurse had disappeared as soon as Valerie arrived, and she realized that she felt completely comfortable with him, which was surprising since they barely knew each other. He was a very pleasant man, and an interesting person of many contrasts. Success hadn’t spoiled him. If anything, it had widened his horizons, and opened his eyes to the finer things in life. He enjoyed what wealth could give him, but he cared about people too. And he talked a lot about his son, who was in college. It was obvious that he was crazy about him, and he said he spent time with him whenever he could.

They talked about art during dinner. He had a good eye for that too, and she had noticed an impressive Diebenkorn painting when she walked in, which she knew was worth a fortune. There were two Ellsworth Kellys in the kitchen, which added color to the room. One was a deep slash of blue, and there was a red one next to it. She liked them both. They chatted easily as they ate dinner. It was a perfect New Year’s Eve for two friends. It
was easy more than romantic, which she liked. She had the feeling he was trying to get to know her, not seduce her, which appealed to her. She knew he could have all the women he wanted and didn’t need to add her to the collection, nor would she have wanted to be one of his flock of “girls.”

The food he had set out was delicious, and the pasta he had made was surprisingly good. He had even made the salad dressing himself from scratch. They ate the caviar and oysters, and Valerie helped herself to some of the crab. And then he served her some of the pasta. It was hard to believe that after what they’d both been through recently, they were relaxing in his kitchen now, enjoying the minor luxuries and indulgences of life.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he commented. “Ten days ago I was getting shot in the leg by a sniper, and now here we are, as though nothing ever happened, eating oysters and pasta and talking about life.” She glanced over at his crutches as he said it and raised an eyebrow. Getting shot didn’t seem like “nothing” to her. “People have an amazing capacity to bounce back from the worst disasters and tragedies. One minute everything is a shambles, and then it all seems normal again,” he said, looking relaxed. None of the trauma he’d been through showed in his eyes as he smiled.

“I can’t say I feel entirely normal,” Valerie confessed, looking at him in the candlelight. “I’ve had nightmares every night, and I got off very lucky.” They both thought of the assistants and colleagues they had lost, the eleven who had died. And all of them
had been traumatized in a major way, including him, whether he acknowledged it or not.