Authors: Phyllis Halldorson
Rage combined with a touch of hysteria set off fireworks
in Karen as she jumped to her feet and shouted, "The devil you will!
You're not raising my child! I think you're making all this up because
you're jealous!"
"Jealous! Of you?" Audrey laughed and got to her feet,
stubbing the cigarette out in the ash tray. "Don't be
silly—why should I be jealous of you? All you're going to get
out of Shane is a child he won't even let you see and a lot of money.
Well, I already have plenty of money, and I'll get the child whether I
want it or not. Oh, no, Karen, I'm not jealous of you. If you want the
truth, I feel sorry for you."
She turned and walked out of the room.
Karen stood there gaping, turmoil boiling up inside her.
Shane had been lying to her all along, playing with her emotions. He'd
planned the whole thing with Audrey! His concern for her future, his
offer to annul the marriage and send her to school, his unwillingness
to take advantage of her innocence—all were part of an act, a
means of getting what he wanted from her: a son. He had deliberately
used his experience and expertise to inflame her passion and her love.
That was the cruelest cut of all. He'd made her fall in love with him,
hoping she'd hand over the baby without protest when it was born, and
she'd been naive enough to mistake his unbridled lust for the one thing
she wanted most—his love. He had no intention of letting her
raise her child—not even for eight years. He would marry
Audrey and turn their son over to
her
to raise!
Before Karen could pull herself together and act, Mrs.
Whitney came into the room—Mrs. Whitney, in her inevitable
dark dress and the sleek heavy chignon at the back of her long slender
neck. Karen had never seen her with a wrinkle in her clothes or a hair
out of place. She was the perfect housekeeper and her dislike for Karen
was so intense that it pulsated through the room when they were alone
together as they were now. She said nothing—she never spoke
to Karen with disrespect—but her eyes before she turned away
were filled with scorn and— ridicule? Karen knew Mrs. Whitney
had been listening to Audrey's tirade.
As though a spring had been released in her Karen rushed
out of the room and up the stairs. She would never allow Audrey to
raise her child! She'd leave, get as far away as she could, someplace
where Shane would never find her.
She pulled two suitcases from her closet and packed one
with maternity clothes, then took the other one down the hall to the
room they had fixed up as a temporary nursery. She paused in the
doorway, her eyes blinded by unshed tears. She'd been so touched when
Shane had insisted they decorate one of the rooms as a nursery, even
though they'd known she and the baby would be there only a short time.
He'd even gone with her to pick out baby furniture and had taken such
pride in the solid maple Early American-style crib and chest.
The cheat! He'd known all along the baby would be there
long after she left! She squared her shoulders and started packing tiny
garments. She'd have to hurry. It was vital that she leave before Shane
came back and stopped her, but first she had to write a note. She
couldn't just walk out and take the chance that he might think she'd
been kidnapped, as had happened when his mother left.
Back in her room she sat at her desk and scribbled hastily:
Shane,
Audrey told me everything. After what I saw last night I
have no choice but to believe her. I'll never let her raise my child so
I'm going away. Please don't try to find me. I'll take good care of the
baby. I promise.
I really did love you so much!
She signed it and pinned it to his pillow so he would be
sure to find it, then put on her all-weather coat and carried her cases
to the top of the stairs.
All was quiet. She lugged the heavy suitcases down the
steps and paused; the exertion had caused a painful stitch in her side.
There was no one around as she hurried out the door and around to the
garage.
Audrey's Ferrari was gone and so was Shane's Cadillac. She
breathed a little easier as she put her bags in the trunk of the small
compact car that Mrs. Whitney usually drove shopping. It was several
years old and a light tan; it looked like thousands of other cars on
the California highways.
There were several car keys on her key ring and it took
three tries before the engine turned over and she eased the car out of
the garage, down the driveway, and onto Seventeen Mile Drive. If she
could just get out of Carmel without running into Shane or Audrey. But
first she had to stop at the bank.
The late-afternoon rush-hour traffic was the worst Karen
had ever experienced and the closer she came to Los Angeles the worse
it got. She was tired to the point of exhaustion; her head throbbed and
her nerves were shot. It seemed as if she had been strapped into the
bucket seat forever. She hadn't stopped the car since she had headed it
out of Carmel toward Highway 101 and turned south. That was hours ago
and she still had no destination. Her only thought was to put as much
distance between herself and Shane as she could before he discovered
that she was gone and came after her.
A blaring horn and the screech of brakes jerked Karen's
attention back to the road, and she realized that she'd inadvertently
crossed the white line into the next lane. That did it! It was time to
stop before she caused an accident. Besides, she knew Shane would have
the highway patrol looking for her when he realized she wasn't coming
back.
An overhead sign above the freeway indicated that the next
several turnoffs were to Santa Barbara. Karen began to maneuver the car
into the right hand lane so she could take one of the exits. She was
only vaguely familiar with Santa Barbara. She'd been there a few times
with her parents years ago and remembered being impressed by the palm
trees and the Spanish-style architecture of the oceanside city, but now
it was a jumble of streets that took off in different directions and
the traffic made her want to scream with frustration. A lighted sign on
the motel up ahead said VACANCY
and she turned into the driveway. Right now all she wanted was a bed on
which she could lie down and go to sleep.
Morning brought a new day, the second day of Karen's
flight. Where was she going and what would she do when she got there?
These and other questions ran through her mind as she lay quietly,
watching the sun stream through the window and listening to the steady
hum of traffic outside her room. She felt disillusioned, bewildered,
and lonely. How could she support a child when she couldn't even
support herself?
She had five thousand dollars with her—all the
money that had been in the bank account Shane had opened for her. It
wouldn't keep her for very long, not with hospital expenses to pay. She
glanced down at the rings on her hands. Her engagement and wedding
bands. Delicate strands of gold set with diamonds. They must be worth a
small fortune. A tremor ran through her as she hastily shoved her hands
under the covers. In an emergency she could pawn her rings, but it
would break her heart. In the meantime, she'd find a small apartment;
she couldn't afford twenty dollars a day for a motel room.
Maybe she'd just stay here in Santa Barbara. The climate was ideal and Shane would have no reason to
look for her here. She shuddered. It wouldn't be easy to hide from
Shane! She remembered the unbelievable lengths he'd gone to to have her
investigated before choosing her as the mother of his child. He would
be even more ruthless now that she was hiding his baby from him.
If only she weren't so alone! If only there were someone
she could turn to, but she couldn't contact anyone she'd ever known.
Shane would find them and through them he'd find her and her child.
He'd take her baby away from her!
She tossed uncomfortably. She ached in every muscle,
probably from sitting in one position on the long drive yesterday. She
struggled out of bed and went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and
took a warm, pulsating shower. It didn't help much and she crawled back
into bed with a sigh. She should get dressed and go out for breakfast,
buy a paper and start looking for an apartment, but she just didn't
feel up to it. Maybe after another hour or two of sleep…
When she woke again it was eleven o'clock and the ache had
settled in her lower back. She shifted position, but it didn't help.
She got up and dressed and went in search of a coffee shop. There was
one just a few doors down from her motel, and as she picked up the menu
she remembered that she hadn't eaten at all yesterday. She shivered.
She didn't want to think of yesterday.
The omelette she'd ordered was good but she could hardly
sit still. She shifted position as she stood waiting to pay her bill
and the woman behind the cashier's counter looked at her with open
sympathy and said, "Got much longer to go?"
Karen shook her head. "Only about a month, but it seems
like forever."
She paid for her meal and bought a paper, but by the time
she got back to her room her stomach was upset and she didn't seem to
be able to sit or stand in any position that relieved the pain in her
back. She undressed again and went back to bed. Driving so far
yesterday must have exhausted her even more than she'd
realized—maybe she'd better just rest today and not try to do
anything until tomorrow.
She dozed but couldn't get away from the back pain. Maybe
if she got up and took an aspirin it would help, but her stomach was so
upset that she was afraid to try to swallow anything.
She slept, but woke just in time to make a mad dash for
the bathroom, where she was violently ill. She was leaning against the
shower stall, fighting the weakness that made the room spin, when a
swift, hot thrust of pain in the lower part of her abdomen caused her
to cry out and double up, her face contorted in agony.
Realization came and she made her way shakily to the
bedside table and picked up the telephone. When the operator answered
she said, "This is Karen McKittrick in Room Five. Call a taxi, please,
I think I'm about to have my baby!"
What happened after that was a blur. There were waves of
pain and people in her room, then the ride in an ambulance with sirens
screaming and the hospital emergency room.
Finally, before they could even transfer her to the
delivery room, the pain built to a crescendo and she remembered
screaming for Shane, then the pain stopped and she heard the shrill cry
of an infant. The doctor's smiling face beamed down at her from above
and said, "You have a six-and-a-half-pound daughter, Karen, and she
seems strong and healthy."
Karen never had a chance to reply as she sank into soft
black weightlessness.
The hall outside the nursery was deserted except for an
occasional nurse, who walked by on crepe-soled shoes, and Karen,
dressed in a flowing pink robe and matching slippers. She stood with
her forehead pressed against the window that separated her from the
incubator housing her small daughter. Her heart swelled with love as
she watched the energetic baby suck on her fist. She was hungry and
they would soon bring her to Karen to be nursed.
She shifted her position and rubbed her hand over her flat
stomach. She had a waist again and it seemed so good to be able to bend
over and put her slippers on. It was great to feel like a woman instead
of a baby factory—and that was all she had ever been to Shane.
Karen sighed as her attention once more shifted to the
baby. She looked so much like Shane. Her hair and eyes were dark and
even at four days she had the same stubborn set of the. jaw as her
father. Her father. Karen hunched her shoulders against the anguish the
thought of Shane still caused her. It was her own fault. Why did she
have to be so stupid? He'd lied to her, cheated her, planned to take
her baby away from her, and still she longed for him with an ache that
was almost unbearable. She should hate him, but every night she dreamed
of his lips on hers, his hands caressing her, his body responding to
her with an urgent need, until she woke with tears streaming down her
cheeks.
She knew she was doomed to a lifetime of pain because
every time she looked at his daughter she would see him. He would have
been proud of Shanna—or would he? He had wanted a
son—he had made that quite clear. Maybe he wouldn't have
wanted this baby after all. She grimaced. That was a premise she
couldn't count on. Shane would lodge a full-scale search for her; she'd
have to get further away. As soon as she and the baby were stronger
they'd go east. Texas, maybe. It wouldn't be easy for him to find her
in Texas.
But first she had to get out of the hospital. She was due
to be dismissed tomorrow. Mrs. Waverly, the hospital's social worker,
had found her a small apartment. Karen had asked for help but told Mrs.
Waverly only that she and her husband were separated and that he would
not be supporting her. She'd asked that the birth not be publicized and
said that under no circumstances were they to contact her husband. She
was paying the bill so they were content to allow her to call the
shots, but she'd have to leave Santa Barbara soon. She'd given her own
name and address to the hospital and she knew it wouldn't take Shane
long to find her.
Karen shifted her position again and knew she'd have to
return to her room to lie down. Standing still for too long tired her.
She whispered "goodbye" through the glass to her daughter and started
down the hall. There was a man coming toward her from the opposite end
of the long passageway. At first she didn't really notice him but then
something made her look again. It was Shane! For just a moment her
emotions overruled her good sense and a powerful surge of joy flooded
over her. She wanted to run to him, throw herself in his arms, hold
him. Then she remembered. He wasn't coming for her—he was
going to take her baby!