Starlight (20 page)

Eileen was waiting for her with a damp washcloth. “Are you going to be sick?” she asked abruptly.

Karen shook her head, closing her eyes to ward off the nausea. She was used to the gruff tone of her voice. Eileen spoke with a brusque affection that couldn’t offend.

“I’m fine.” Karen looked away.

Her mother-in-law’s smile was tender and knowing. “Does Rand know?”

Miserably, she gave a negative shake. “Rand has made it very clear he doesn’t want children. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.”

“Doesn’t seem to me he has much choice in the matter. He’s going to be a father, like it or not.” She made it sound so simple and matter-of-fact.

“I wish it were that easy.”

“He can’t place the blame entirely on you … it does take two. That son of mine can be such a fool sometimes. Leave him to me. I’ll set him straight.”

“No, don’t. It’s important that I be the one to tell him,” Karen pleaded, and sat down as another wave of nausea threatened.

“Well, you’ll have to tell him soon. I’ve been here less than a day and guessed almost immediately. Don’t be a ninny about it. He’s bound to be unhappy for a while, but he loves you.” She paused and chuckled. “Rand surprised the heck out of me at the
airport the way he stepped in to protect you. I didn’t know he had it in him. First time he’s raised his voice to me in twenty years.” She laughed again, as if finding the whole situation amusing.

“He’s my husband; it was only natural—” Karen began.

“Not so,” Eileen interrupted quickly. “Rand and I have a special mother-son relationship. His father died when Rand was eleven. George was working in Alaska; we were desperately in need of extra money for Rand’s medical expenses. We traveled from doctor to doctor, seeking the latest professional skill for his deteriorating eyesight, but no one could offer us hope. The public schools weren’t equipped to teach the boy, and it meant sending him to expensive boarding schools for the blind. All this took money, so George accepted this high-risk, high-paying job in Alaska. He was there two years before being killed in a mining accident. The only frivolous thing he ever sent home was that locket you’re wearing. It arrived after we received word George had been killed. I never could wear the thing; too many sad memories.”

Karen fingered the locket that hung around her neck. It did hold special significance to Rand, perhaps because he assumed their love would end with the same bittersweet memories.

“Rand seemed to blame himself for George’s death. Nothing I could say would lessen his guilt.” Eileen continued speaking; even after all this time, reliving the memory proved painful. “In all the years since, Rand has been a model son. He’s cared for my every need, given me every consideration. When he stood up to me the way he did at the airport, I knew he loved you. I needed to be assured of that. Things were mighty fishy when he arrived for his so-called honeymoon with that other woman. I’ve been wanting him to marry for years. He needs a wife, and selfishly, I wouldn’t be opposed to a few grandchildren, but Rand would laugh and quickly change the subject. He mentioned you first thing off the plane, but I wondered what he was doing bringing me Cora when I wanted to meet you.”

“Eileen?” Karen’s fingers clenched tightly together in a nervous action.

“Speak up; I can’t be expected to hear you if you insist on talking to the floor.”

“Rand … Rand didn’t exactly want to marry me.” Karen flushed as she related the events leading up to their wedding.

“Lordy me, your daddy’s one sly devil.” She laughed brusquely. “I can well imagine Rand’s reaction to that,” she said, laughing all the more.

Karen looked away.

“Don’t look so put out. Rand wasn’t totally opposed to this marriage, or nothing on God’s good earth would have persuaded him to marry you. Being pressured was sure
to ruffle a few of his proud feathers, but I know my son well enough to tell you he would have rotted in hell rather than marry someone he didn’t want.”

“But don’t you see?” Karen murmured dismally. “He’s sure to believe I tricked him with this pregnancy.”

“No doubt he’ll be as angry as a wounded bear, but given time, he’ll come around. Now, don’t be a quitter; give him time to sort through his feelings. If he said he was opposed to a family, it’s not because he doesn’t like children. Rand will make an excellent father. My only advice to you is to tell him soon. It’s bound to go better for you if he hears it from your lips than if he discovers it on his own.”

Acknowledging the wisdom of her mother-in-law, Karen had to agree.

Eileen returned to New York four days later, leaving with Karen’s promise that she’d tell Rand about the baby soon.

Karen mentally prepared herself all the next day, determined to tell Rand about the baby right after dinner.

“It was nice having my mother for a visit, but quite frankly, I’m glad she’s gone. I like having you to myself.” Rand sat on the sofa, pulling Karen onto his lap; his fingers wasted no time unbuttoning her blouse.

Abruptly, Karen twisted away and stood. “Rand, no, don’t touch me, please.”

“Karen?” He sounded surprised by her sudden rejection.

She stood across the room from him, rigid with apprehension. Her hand rested protectively on the slight swelling of her stomach. “Rand,” she told him boldly, her voice tight, “I’m going to have a baby.”

The room crackled with a stunned silence; Rand expelled an uneven, disbelieving breath before his jaw tightened ominously. Despair flickered over his face, and he paused to run his fingers through his hair wearily. He was silent for so long, Karen didn’t know how much more tension she could endure.

“Yell, scream, do what you need to do. But please, don’t just sit there.” She felt far more capable of dealing with his anger than the tormented ache in his eyes.

“All my life I’ve had to deal with people who feel that because I’m handicapped, I must also be mentally retarded. I expected more from you, Karen.”

His words stabbed at her heart. She yearned to go to him, hold him, reassure him, anything but this intolerable, tortured look. He resembled a man defeated and friendless. He slouched forward, burying his face in his hands.

“I realize this is of little comfort to either of us at the moment, but I want you to know the doctor says I was already pregnant when I went to see him about birth control.” Her voice faltered slightly.

Rand’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. The short, abrupt laugh was full of malice. “Get out.”

Karen stared at him with disbelieving eyes.

“I said get out,” he raged in white fury.

She choked back a sob, her voice raw as she spoke. “Just how far do you want me to go? Out of the room? Out of the house? Out of your life?”

Violently, Rand swung around, his hand slamming against the lamp, sending it crashing into the coffee table. The ceramic base shattered into a thousand pieces as his anger exploded.

Karen backed away from him fearfully as he stumbled from the living room. The picture windows vibrated as he slammed the front door.

Where would he go? Karen looked around her with the most helpless feeling in the world. A knot in her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. Her first inclination was to run after him, plead with him to understand. But it was useless, and she knew it. Miserably, she picked up the larger pieces of the broken lamp.

There was no use attempting to sleep; she couldn’t until Rand was home. The car was gone; apparently, he had gotten Carl to drive him someplace. Possibly Cora’s? She quickly cast the pain-inducing thought from her mind. A long time later, she heard the
soft purr of the car engine as it died, and she sighed with relief. But Rand didn’t come into the house. The time grew so long that Karen nervously stared out the window, hoping to see him. The yard—everywhere she could see—was deserted. Why did she have to love him so much? Why couldn’t she just go to bed and let him work out the problem his own way? She’d been shocked, too, when she’d first realized she wasn’t suffering from some obscure virus.

Was he walking in the woods? It was dark; he could hurt himself. Another half hour passed, each second interminable. Karen couldn’t stand it anymore and carelessly threw a sweater over her shoulders.

“Rand?” she called, venturing down the path leading to the woods. “Please answer me.”

The night was so clear and still. She stopped to listen, but everything was deadly quiet until Karen wanted to cry with frustration.

“Miss Karen,” Carl spoke from behind her, and Karen swiveled around.

“Where’s Rand?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“I don’t know.” The older man’s eyes avoided hers. “He had me take him to a bar, said he didn’t want me to wait. But he was in a bad way; real angry, he was. I sat outside for a long time, wondering what to do. When I went back inside, Mr. Rand was gone.”

Karen’s hand squeezed Carl’s arm. “I told Rand about the baby.”

Carl’s smile was wry. “I figured as much. Give him time; he’ll come around. It won’t be long before he’ll be handing me a cigar as proud as any father; you wait and see.”

Tears shimmered in Karen’s eyes, tears of hope. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Carl patted her shoulder gently. “Do you want me to wait up with you? Neither of us is going to sleep until he’s home.”

“Dorothy?” Karen’s gaze flickered back to Carl’s house.

“Been asleep for hours.” He chuckled softly.

With a slight nod, Karen accepted the man’s kind offer. They walked to the house together.

Several hours later, the sound of a door closing and someone singing told them Rand was home. The words of the song were slurred and barely discernible.

“WHATCHA GONNA DO WITH A DRUNKEN BLIND MAN? WHATCHA GONNA DO WITH A DRUNKEN BLIND MAN? EARL-LIE IN THE MORNING.”

Carl was immediately at Rand’s side while Karen paid the taxi driver. The man gave her a sympathetic smile and drove into the night.

Rand’s weight was giving Carl trouble as they weaved toward the bedroom. Karen hurried to help, slipping her arm around Rand’s waist, accepting a portion of his weight as his arm fell haphazardly across her shoulders.

Rand staggered slightly, then paused as if suddenly realizing Karen was there.

“Karen, my sweet Karen.” A haunted, tortured look came over his masculine features. His mouth twisted into a dark, foreboding glower. Angrily, he pushed her aside.

“Trick the blind man. Hurt the blind man. Fool the blind man,” he shouted, madly waving his arms.

No one was more surprised than Karen when Carl unexpectedly lifted Rand, placing his bulk over his shoulder like a fireman. When Carl laid him on the bed, Rand was either asleep or dead drunk.

“He’ll be all right until morning,” Carl assured Karen as he stopped to remove Rand’s shoes.

Numbly, Karen took a blanket from the hall closet, and laid it over his still body. A few minutes later, she walked Carl to the door. When she returned to the bedroom, Rand was making sleeping noises, lost to the world. Gently, she touched his face, the weight of unhappiness bearing hard upon her shoulders.

She slept in the spare bedroom, the room she thought would make a lovely nursery. It seemed fitting somehow. When she woke, Rand had already left for school. She looked at the unkempt bed and experienced a bittersweet agony. Trailing her fingers across the pillow that had held his head, she was hoping to draw some solace. Instead, she experienced an acute loneliness.

Rand wasn’t home for dinner. Carl phoned to say Rand was working late with Cora, but she guessed the call had been made on his own initiative. It was after midnight before she went to bed, lying awake until she heard Rand enter. He undressed in the dark, pulled back the covers on his side, and climbed into bed. Their bodies were only a few inches apart, yet a whole world lay between them. Karen was completely still, willing Rand to say something, anything. After a while, she abandoned the hope and with an agonizing sigh drifted into sleep.

First thing the next morning, she woke again, experiencing the now-familiar waves of nausea. Deep breaths didn’t help, and she rushed into the bathroom. When she straightened, she found Rand’s large frame blocking the doorway.

“Are you all right?” he questioned tightly.

“I’m fine.” Rand looked as drawn and pale as she did.

“Does this happen often?” he asked again, gruffly.

Karen’s voice sounded choked and small. “Sometimes two or three times a
week.”

His face twisted into a vicious smile, almost as if he was pleased she was experiencing some discomfort with this pregnancy. “Next time, close the bathroom door. The sound of you vomiting isn’t a pleasant way to wake up.”

“All right,” Karen agreed, hoping to hide the hurt in her voice.

Leaving early and coming home later and later was a pattern Rand followed rigidly the next few days. Karen rarely saw him, and if she did, he didn’t speak to her unless it was in gruff, impatient tones.

He was obviously overworking himself, skipping meals and not getting enough sleep. Karen’s tortured gaze followed him.

Rand had told her to get out, but seemed unwilling to tell her how far he wanted her to go. The temptation was strong to pack her things, but Karen had never been a quitter, and this marriage was worth saving. If anything, her resolve to work things out grew stronger as the days passed.