Rage of Angels (20 page)

Mary Beth looked radiantly happy. She was full of small talk, putting her visitor at ease. They went into the library where there was a cheerful fire crackling in the hearth.

“I haven’t heard from Adam yet,” Mary Beth said. “He’s probably been detained. In the meantime, you and I can have a nice long chat. You sounded excited on the telephone.” Mary Beth leaned forward conspiratorially. “What’s your big news?”

Jennifer looked at the friendly woman across from her and blurted out, “I’m going to have Adam’s baby.”

Mary Beth leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Well! Now isn’t that something! So am I!”

Jennifer stared at her. “I—I don’t understand.”

Mary Beth laughed. “It’s really quite simple, my dear. Adam and I
are
married, you know.”

Jennifer said slowly, “But—but you and Adam are getting a divorce.”

“My dear girl, why on earth would I divorce Adam? I adore him.”

Jennifer felt her head beginning to spin. The conversation was making no sense. “You’re—you’re in love with someone else. You said you—”

“I said that I’m in love. And I am. I’m in love with Adam. I told you, I’ve been in love with Adam since the first time I saw him.”

She could not mean what she was saying. She was teasing Jennifer, playing some kind of silly game.

“Stop it!” Jennifer said. “You’re like a brother and sister to each other. Adam doesn’t make love to—”

Mary Beth’s voice tinkled with laughter. “My poor dear! I’m surprised that someone as clever as you are could—” She leaned forward with concern. “You believed him! I’m so sorry. I am. I really am.”

Jennifer was fighting to keep control of herself. “Adam is in love with me. We’re getting married.”

Mary Beth shook her head. Her blue eyes met Jennifer’s and the naked hatred in them made Jennifer’s heart stop for an instant.

“That would make Adam a bigamist. I’ll never give him a divorce. If I had let Adam divorce me and marry you, he would lose the election. As it is, he’s going to win it. Then we’ll go on to the White House, Adam and I. There’s no room in his life for anyone like you. There never was. He only thinks he’s in love with you. But he’ll get over that when he finds out I’m carrying his baby. Adam’s always wanted a child.”

Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the terrible pain in her head.

“Can I get you something?” Mary Beth was asking solicitously.

Jennifer opened her eyes. “Have you told him you’re having a baby?”

“Not yet.” Mary Beth smiled. “I thought I’d tell him tonight when he gets home and we’re in bed.”

Jennifer was filled with loathing. “You’re a monster…”

“It’s all in the point of view, isn’t it, honey? I’m Adam’s wife. You’re his whore.”

Jennifer rose to her feet, feeling dizzy. Her headache had become an unbearable pounding. There was a roaring in her ears and she was afraid she was going to faint. She was moving toward the entrance, her legs unsteady.

Jennifer stopped at the door, pressing herself against it, trying to think. Adam had said he loved her, but he had slept with this woman, had made her pregnant.

Jennifer turned and walked out into the cold night air.

Adam was on a final campaign swing around the state. He telephoned Jennifer several times, but he was always surrounded by his entourage and it was impossible to talk, impossible for Jennifer to tell him her news.

Jennifer knew the explanation for Mary Beth’s pregnancy: She had tricked Adam into sleeping with her. But Jennifer wanted to hear it from Adam.

“I’ll be back in a few days and we’ll talk then,” Adam said.

The election was only five days away now. Adam deserved to win it; he was the better man. Jennifer felt that Mary Beth was right when she said it could be the stepping-stone to the presidency of the United States. She would force herself to wait and see what happened.

If Adam was elected senator, Jennifer would lose him. Adam would go to Washington with Mary Beth. There would be no way he could get a divorce. The scandal of a freshman senator divorcing a pregnant wife to marry his pregnant mistress would be too juicy a story for him ever to live down. But
if Adam should lose the race, he would be free. Free to go back to his law practice, free to marry Jennifer and not worry or care about what anyone else thought. They would be able to live the rest of their lives together. Have their child.

Election Day dawned cold and rainy. Because of the interest in the senate race, a large voter turnout was expected at the polls despite the weather.

In the morning, Ken Bailey asked, “Are you going to vote today?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like a close race, doesn’t it?”

“Very close.”

She went to the polls late that morning, and as she stepped into the voting booth she thought dully,
A vote for Adam Warner is a vote against Jennifer Parker.
She voted for Adam and left the booth. She could not bear to go back to her office. She walked the streets all afternoon, trying not to think, trying not to feel; thinking and feeling, knowing that the next few hours were going to determine the rest of her life.

“This is one of the closest elections we have had in years,” the television announcer was saying.

Jennifer was at home alone watching the returns on NBC. She had made herself a light dinner of scrambled eggs and toast, and then was too nervous to eat anything. She sat in a robe huddled up on the couch, listening to her fate being broadcast to millions of people. Each viewer had his own reason for watching, for wanting one of the candidates to win or to lose, but Jennifer was sure that none of them was as deeply involved in the outcome of this election as she was. If Adam won, it would mean the end of their relationship…and the end of the baby in her womb.

There was a quick shot of Adam on the screen, and by his side, Mary Beth. Jennifer prided herself on being able to read people, to understand their motives, but she had been completely taken in by the moonlight-and-magnolias routine of the honey-voiced bitch. She kept pushing back the picture of Adam going to bed with that woman, making her pregnant.

Edwin Newman was saying, “Here are the latest returns in the senate race between the incumbent, John Trowbridge, and challenger Adam Warner. In Manhattan, John Trowbridge has a total of 221,375 votes. Adam Warner has a total of 214,895.

“In the Forty-fifth Election District of the Twenty-ninth Assembly District in Queens, John Trowbridge is two percentage points ahead.”

Jennifer’s life was being measured in percentage points.

“The totals from The Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Richmond and the counties of Nassau, Rockland, Suffolk and Westchester add up to 2,300,000 for John Trowbridge, and 2,120,000 for Adam Warner, with the votes from upstate New York just beginning to come in. Adam Warner has made a surprisingly strong showing against Senator Trowbridge, who is serving his third term. From the beginning, the polls have been almost evenly divided in this race. According to the latest returns, with sixty-two percent of the votes counted, Senator Trowbridge is beginning to pull ahead. When we read the last returns one hour ago, Senator Trowbridge was two percentage points ahead. The returns now indicate that he has increased his lead to two and a half percentage points. If this trend continues, the NBC computer will predict Senator Trowbridge to be the victor in the senatorial race for the United States Senate. Moving on to the contest between…”

Jennifer sat there, looking at the set, her heart pounding. It was as though millions of people were casting a vote to decide whether it would be Adam and Jennifer, or Adam and Mary Beth. Jennifer felt light-headed and giddy. She must remember to eat sometime. But not now. Nothing mattered now except what was happening on the screen in front of her. The suspense kept building, minute by minute, hour by hour.

At midnight, Senator John Trowbridge’s lead was three percentage points. At two in the morning, with seventy-one percent of the votes counted, Senator Trowbridge was leading
by a margin of three and a half percentage points. The computer declared that Senator John Trowbridge had won the election.

Jennifer sat there staring at the television set, drained of all emotion, of all feeling. Adam had lost. Jennifer had won. She had won Adam and their son. She was free to tell Adam now, to tell him about their baby, to plan for their future together.

Jennifer’s heart ached for Adam, for she knew how much the election had meant to him. And yet in time, Adam would get over his defeat. One day he would try again, and she would help him. He was still young. The world lay before both of them. Before the three of them.

Jennifer fell asleep on the couch, dreaming about Adam and the election and the White House. She and Adam and their son were in the Oval Office. Adam was making his acceptance speech. Mary Beth walked in and began to interrupt. Adam started to yell at her and his voice got louder and louder. Jennifer woke up. The voice was the voice of Edwin Newman. The television set was still on. It was dawn.

Edwin Newman, looking exhausted, was reading the final election returns. Jennifer listened to him, her mind still half asleep.

As she started to rise from the couch she heard him say, “And here are the final results on the New York State senatorial election. In one of the most stunning upsets in years, Adam Warner has defeated the incumbent, Senator John Trowbridge, by a margin of less than one percent.”

It was over. Jennifer had lost.

When Jennifer walked into the office late that morning, Cynthia said, “Mr. Adams is on the line, Miss Parker. He’s been calling all morning.”

Jennifer hesitated, then said, “All right, Cynthia, I’ll take it.” She went into her office and picked up the telephone. “Hello, Adam. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. We have to talk. Are you free for lunch?”

Jennifer hesitated. “Yes.”

It had to be faced sometime.

It was the first time Jennifer had seen Adam in three weeks. She studied his face. Adam looked haggard and drawn. He should have been flushed with victory, but instead he seemed oddly nervous and uncomfortable. They ordered a lunch which neither of them ate, and they talked about the election, their words a camouflage to hide their thoughts.

The charade had become almost unbearable when, finally, Adam said, “Jennifer…” He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Mary Beth is going to have a baby.”

Hearing the words from him somehow made it an unbearable reality. “I’m sorry, darling. It—it just happened. It’s difficult to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain.” Jennifer could see the scene clearly. Mary Beth in a provocative negligee—or naked—and Adam—

“I feel like such a fool,” Adam was saying. There was an uncomfortable silence and he went on. “I got a call this morning from the chairman of the National Committee. There’s talk about grooming me as their next presidential candidate.” He hesitated. “The problem is that with Mary Beth pregnant, this would be an awkward time for me to get a divorce. I don’t know what the hell to do. I haven’t slept in three nights.” He looked at Jennifer and said, “I hate to ask this of you, but—do you think we could wait a little while until things sort themselves out?”

Jennifer looked across the table at Adam and felt such a deep ache, such an intolerable loss, that she did not think she could stand it.

“We’ll see each other as often as possible in the meantime,” Adam told her. “We—”

Jennifer forced herself to speak. “No, Adam. It’s over.”

He stared at her. “You don’t mean that. I love you, darling. We’ll find a way to—”

“There is no way. Your wife and baby aren’t going to disappear. You and I are finished. I’ve loved it. Every moment of it.”

She rose to her feet, knowing that if she did not get out of the restaurant she would start screaming. “We must never see each other again.”

She could not bear to look at his pain-filled eyes.

“Oh, God, Jennifer! Don’t do this. Please don’t do this! We—”

She did not hear the rest. She was hurrying toward the door, running out of Adam’s life.

Adam’s telephone calls were neither accepted nor returned. His letters were sent back unopened. On the last letter Jennifer received, she wrote the word “deceased” on the envelope and dropped it in the mail slot.
It’s true
, Jennifer thought.
I am dead.

She had never known that such pain could exist. She had to be alone, and yet she was not alone. There was another human being inside her, a part of her and a part of Adam. And she was going to destroy it.

She forced herself to think about where she was going to have the abortion. A few years earlier an abortion would have meant some quack doctor in a dirty, sleazy back-alley room, but now that was no longer necessary. She could go to a hospital and have the operation performed by a reputable surgeon. Somewhere outside of New York City. Jennifer’s photograph had been in the newspapers too many times, she had been on television too often. She needed anonymity, someplace where no one would ask questions. There must never,
never be a link between her and Adam Warner.
United States Senator
Adam Warner. Their baby must die anonymously.

Jennifer allowed herself to think of what the baby would have been like, and she began to weep so hard that it was difficult to breathe.

It had started to rain. Jennifer looked up at the sky and wondered whether God was crying for her.

Ken Bailey was the only person Jennifer could trust to help her.

“I need an abortion,” Jennifer said without preamble. “Do you know of a good doctor?”

He tried to mask his surprise, but Jennifer could see the variety of emotions that flickered across his face.

“Somewhere out of town, Ken. Someplace where they won’t know me.”

“What about the Fiji Islands?” There was an anger in his voice.

“I’m serious.”

“Sorry. I—you caught me off guard.” The news had taken him completely by surprise. He worshipped Jennifer. He knew that he loved her, and there were times when he thought he was in love with her; but he could not be sure, and it was torture. He could never do to Jennifer what he had done to his wife.
God
, Ken thought,
why the hell couldn’t You make up Your mind about me?

He ran his hands through his red hair and said, “If you don’t want to have it in New York, I’d suggest North Carolina. It’s not too far away.”

“Can you check it out for me?”

“Yeah. Fine. I—“

“Yes?”

He looked away from her. “Nothing.”

Ken Bailey disappeared for the next three days. When he walked into Jennifer’s office on the third day, he was unshaven and his eyes were hollow and red-rimmed.

Jennifer took one look at him and asked, “Are you all right?”

“I guess so.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.”
If God can’t help me, love, there’s nothing you can do.

He handed Jennifer a slip of paper. On it was written,
Dr. Eric Linden, Memorial Hospital, Charlotte, North Carolina.

“Thank you, Ken.”

“
De nada.
When are you going to do it?”

“I’ll go down there this weekend.”

He said awkwardly, “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

“What about the return trip?”

“I’ll be all right.”

He stood there a moment, hesitating. “It’s none of my business, but are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“I’m sure.”

She had no choice. She wanted nothing more in the world than to keep Adam’s baby, but she knew it would be insane to try to bring the baby up by herself.

She looked at Ken and said again, “I’m sure.”

The hospital was a pleasant old two-story brick building on the outskirts of Charlotte.

The woman behind the registration desk was gray-haired, in her late sixties. “May I help you?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said. “I’m Mrs. Parker. I have an appointment with Dr. Linden to—to—” She could not bring herself to say the words.

The receptionist nodded understandingly. “The doctor’s expecting you, Mrs. Parker. I’ll have someone show you the way.”

An efficient young nurse led Jennifer to an examining room down the hall and said, “I’ll tell Dr. Linden you’re here. Would you like to get undressed? There’s a hospital gown on the hanger.”

Slowly, possessed by a feeling of unreality, Jennifer undressed and put on the white hospital gown. She felt as though she were putting on a butcher’s apron. She was about to kill the life inside her. In her mind, the apron became spattered with blood, the blood of her baby. Jennifer found herself trembling.

A voice said, “Here, now. Relax.”

Jennifer looked up to see a burly bald-headed man wearing horn-rimmed glasses that gave his face an owlish appearance.

“I’m Dr. Linden.” He looked at the chart in his hand. “You’re Mrs. Parker.”

Jennifer nodded.

The doctor touched her arm and said soothingly, “Sit down.” He went to the sink and filled a paper cup with water. “Drink this.”

Jennifer obeyed. Dr. Linden sat in a chair, watching her until the trembling had subsided.

“So. You want to have an abortion.”

“Yes.”

“Have you discussed this with your husband, Mrs. Parker?”

“Yes. We—we both want it.”

He studied her. “You appear to be in good health.”

“I feel—I feel fine.”

“Is it an economic problem?”

“No,” Jennifer said sharply. Why was he bothering her with questions? “We—we just can’t have the baby.”

Dr. Linden took out a pipe. “This bother you?”

“No.”

Dr. Linden lit the pipe and said, “Nasty habit.” He leaned back and blew out a puff of smoke.

“Could we get this over with?” Jennifer asked.

Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She felt that at any moment she was going to scream.

Dr. Linden took another long, slow puff from his pipe. “I think we should talk for a few minutes.”

By an enormous effort of will, Jennifer controlled her agitation. “All right.”

“The thing about abortions,” Dr. Linden said, “is that they’re so final. You can change your mind now, but you can’t change it after the baby’s gone.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

He nodded and took another slow puff of the pipe. “That’s good.”

The sweet smell of the tobacco was making Jennifer nauseous. She wished he would put away his pipe. “Doctor Linden—”

He rose to his feet reluctantly and said, “All right, young lady, let’s have a look at you.”

Jennifer lay back on the examining table, her feet in the cold metal stirrups. She felt his fingers probing inside her body. They were gentle, and skilled, and she felt no embarrassment, only an ineffable sense of loss, a deep sorrow. Unbidden visions came into her mind of her young son, because she knew with certainty it would have been a boy, running and playing and laughing. Growing up in the image of his father.

Dr. Linden had finished his examination. “You can get dressed now, Mrs. Parker. You may stay here overnight, if you like, and we’ll perform the operation in the morning.”

“No!” Jennifer’s voice was sharper than she had intended. “I’d like it done now, please.”

Dr. Linden was studying her again, a quizzical expression on his face.

“I have two patients ahead of you. I’ll have the nurse come in and get a lab work-up and then put you in your room. We’ll go ahead with surgery in about four hours. All right?”

Jennifer whispered, “All right.”

She lay on the narrow hospital bed, her eyes closed, waiting for Dr. Linden to return. There was an old-fashioned clock on the wall and its ticking seemed to fill the room. The ticktock became words:
Young Adam, Young Adam, Young Adam, our son, our son, our son.

Jennifer could not shut the vision of the baby out of her mind. At this moment it was inside her body, comfortable and warm and alive, protected against the world in its amniotic womb. She wondered whether it had any primeval fear of what was about to happen to it. She wondered whether it would feel pain when the knife killed it. She put her hands over her ears to shut out the ticking of the clock. She found she was beginning to breathe hard, and her body was covered with perspiration. She heard a sound and opened her eyes.

Dr. Linden was standing over her, a look of concern on his face. “Are you all right, Mrs. Parker?”

“Yes,” Jennifer whispered. “I just want it finished.”

Dr. Linden nodded. “That’s what we’re going to do.” He took a syringe from the table next to her bed and moved toward her.

“What’s in that?”

“Demerol and Phenergan to relax you. Well be going into the operating room in a few minutes.” He gave Jennifer the injection. “I take it that this is your first abortion?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me explain the procedure to you. It’s painless and relatively simple. In the operating room you’ll be given nitrous oxide, a general anesthesia, and oxygen by mask. When you’re unconscious, a speculum will be inserted into the vagina, so that we can see what we’re doing. We will then begin dilating
the cervix with a series of metal dilators, in increasing sizes, and scraping out the uterus with a curette. Any questions so far?”

“No.”

A warm, sleepy feeling was stealing over her. She could feel her tension vanishing as though by magic, and the walls of the room began to blur. She wanted to ask the doctor something, but she could not remember what it was…something about the baby…it no longer seemed important. The important thing was that she was doing what she had to do. It would all be over in a few minutes, and she could start her life again.

She found herself drifting off into a wonderful, dreamy state…she was aware of people coming into the room, lifting her onto a metal table with wheels…she could feel the coldness of the metal on her back through her thin hospital gown. She was being rolled down the hallway and she started to count the lights overhead. It seemed important to get the number right, but she was not sure why. She was being wheeled into a white, antiseptic operating room and Jennifer thought,
This is where my baby is going to die. Don’t worry, little Adam. I won’t let them hurt you.
And without meaning to, she began to cry.

Dr. Linden patted her arm. “It’s all right. This won’t hurt.”

Death without pain,
Jennifer thought.
That was nice.
She loved her baby. She did not want him to be hurt.

Someone put a mask over her face and a voice said, “Breathe deeply.”

Jennifer felt hands raise the hospital gown and spread her legs apart.

It was going to happen. It was going to happen now. Young Adam, Young Adam, Young Adam.

“I want you to relax,” Dr. Linden said.

Jennifer nodded.
Good-bye, my baby.
She felt a cold, steel object begin to move between her thighs and slowly slide up
inside her. It was the alien instrument of death that was going to murder Adam’s baby.

She heard a strange voice scream out, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

And Jennifer looked up at the surprised faces staring down at her and realized that the screams were coming from her. The mask pressed down harder against her face. She tried to sit up, but there were straps holding her down. She was being sucked into a vortex that was moving faster and faster, drowning her.

The last thing she remembered was the huge white light in the ceiling whirling above her, spinning down and going deep inside her skull.

When Jennifer awakened, she was lying in the hospital bed in her room. Through the window she could see that it was dark outside. Her body felt sore and battered, and she wondered how long she had been unconscious. She was alive, but her baby—?

She reached for the bell pinned to her bed and pressed it. She kept pressing it, frantic, unable to stop herself.

A nurse appeared in the doorway, then quickly left. A few moments later Dr. Linden hurried in. He moved to the side of the bed and gently pried Jennifer’s fingers away from the bell.

Jennifer grabbed his arm fiercely and said in a hoarse voice, “My baby—he’s dead!”—!”

Dr. Linden said, “No, Mrs. Parker. He’s alive. I hope it’s a boy. You kept calling him Adam.”