Starlight (22 page)

Never again would she apologize to Rand for this pregnancy. This child had been created in love, her love for Rand, if not his love for her. That didn’t matter anymore. Releasing a sigh from deep within, she strolled back to the room and fell into a deep, restful sleep.

The next morning fell into the pattern of the day before. Karen walked along the beach, her bare feet leaving imprints in the wet sand. Today, she would settle, if only in her own mind, the problems that existed between her and Rand.

A conversation she’d had with Judy at the zoo played again in her mind.

“I think I’d die if Rand and I had to be separated for a year. I love him so much it almost frightens me; Rand has become my whole life.”

Judy had laughed. The wise, knowing, older-sister look had come over her. “It’s amazing the things a woman can endure when it’s necessary. I didn’t think I’d ever survive without Mike, but I have, and I will.”

Recalling their conversation, Karen realized that although she deeply loved her husband, she could make a life for herself and their child without him.

Symbolically, she built another sand castle, far from the water’s edge. It was hard work, carrying buckets of wet sand onto the beach, but now the tide wouldn’t steal it away. Perspiration wetted her brow when she finished; a dull ache throbbed in the small of her back. She waited until the tide came in, proud that her castle stood serene and secure. Tears misted her eyes; she was ready to face what awaited her in Tacoma.

The drive home was made with a sense of impatience. Karen left early the next morning and didn’t stop for either breakfast or lunch. The instinct of a migrating bird seemed to be driving her home.

Home, she sighed, turning into the long driveway five hours later. She’d lived in the apartment for a number of months, and it had never produced in her the feelings this long rambler did.

Everything looked so peaceful, calm. Nothing had changed, yet everything looked different. She parked around back and glanced at her garden on the way past. After three
days without hoeing, it was difficult to distinguish between plant and weed. The kitchen door was unlocked, and with dauntless courage she walked inside.

Karen stifled a gasp at the mess that lay before her. Dirty dishes, food, and utensils littered the table, countertop, and sink. It resembled the kitchen after James and Carter had prepared a meal.

Clothes and books were carelessly tossed about the living room; the drapes were closed, blocking out the afternoon sunlight.

Karen put her suitcase down and immediately opened the drapes, stooping to pick up several items along the way. The house smelled strange, as if no one had opened the windows and allowed fresh air to circulate in days.

“Damn it, Carl, I said leave me alone.” The angry words were shouted and cutting.

Karen paused as a dejected figure moved down the hall. The sight of Rand shocked Karen, and she stared at him with disbelieving eyes. It looked as though he hadn’t shaved since she’d gone. His clothes were wrinkled as if he’d been sleeping in them; his hair was a mass of tangles.

“It isn’t Carl,” she said quietly.

A flicker of pain touched his face as he stopped. “Karen?” he questioned as if he wasn’t sure of the sound of her voice.

“What’s happened?” The whole house possessed a sense of unreality; Rand would never live in such disorganization. “Have you been ill?” she questioned, gazing at him anxiously.

“Karen, Karen.” He repeated her name incredulously, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Where the hell did you go?” he demanded, his back stiffening, ramrod straight.

A bewildered frown narrowed her brow as she went to him. “Where have I been?” she asked. “I told Carl where I was going. You were asleep when I left. I didn’t want to wake you. Carl was supposed to tell you.”

“He didn’t.” Rand’s smile was contemptuous. “I suppose he thought letting me suffer was poetic justice.” His hand ran wearily over his face and eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” Slowly, he turned, retreating to his den. Halfway down the hall, he paused, his back facing her. “Why did you go?” It was as if the question had been wrenched from him, had cost him more than she would ever know.

“Cora must have tried again to reach you. I apologize for not giving you the message.”

“Damn it, Karen,” Rand bit out savagely. “You disappear for three days and
apologize for not giving me a telephone message? I don’t give a damn hell about Cora right now. I want to know why you found it so sam-hell important to run out on me?” His hands were clenched so tightly the knuckles appeared white. He turned around, his face twisted, like a man pushed beyond his limit.

Karen watched him with a sad, almost pleading expression. His agony … hers. “Cora phoned to say she’s had her flight reservations changed, so she’ll be traveling with you since … since I won’t be going with you, after all.”

Her response angered Rand all the more. “Do you mean to tell me this whole disappearing act of yours was nothing more than a fit of jealousy?” he questioned between clenched teeth.

“Apparently so,” she told him flippantly. “If it’s jealousy to have the man I married take two honeymoon trips with another woman, then that’s what I am. I won’t question if it’s reasonable or unreasonable; it’s just the way I happen to feel.”

Rand swore harshly under his breath.

“Well, what did you expect?” Karen asked. “More important, when did you plan on telling me I wouldn’t be going? At the airport? We’re supposed to leave in three days. Excuse me,” she corrected herself with a bitter smile. “
You’re
leaving in three days.”

“You couldn’t come,” he shouted, his face red and angry. Then he paused, taking several deep breaths as if to calm himself. Gesturing with his hand, he added with a helpless, frustrated note, “You’re sick every morning.”

“If you’d bothered to ask, you’d have learned most of the morning sickness has gone.” She looked away guiltily. It had only been the last couple of mornings that she’d felt like her old self. “It doesn’t matter.” She felt tired and defeated. Holding a conversation while ten feet of hall separated them seemed utterly useless. She returned to the living room, stopping to pick up clothes along the way. She deposited the pile on the sofa.

“Did you want to come?” Rand asked quietly.

“Of course I did. You could have asked me, Rand.”

She heard his uneven sigh. “The lines of communication weren’t exactly open last week, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re angry over nothing.” His voice was raised as he fought for control.

“That’s what the baby and I are to you … nothing,” she intoned sadly, and turned to witness the hard mask that slipped over his face.

“I don’t want that baby,” Rand shouted.

“You didn’t want a wife, either,” she reminded him.

Rand bit off another caustic reply and paced the floor, saying nothing.

“It’s obvious I expect more from your love than you’re capable of giving. Somewhere along the road, I got the twisted notion love implies trust and faith. You’ve accused and doubted me twice.” She took a shaky breath, gathering her resolve. “You once told me to get out, but you didn’t say how far you wanted me to go. I think that time has come.”

Rand’s expression remained impassive and stoic. If it hadn’t been for the nerve that jerked in his jaw, she wouldn’t have known the effect of her demand.

When the telephone rang, she ignored it. “Undoubtedly, it’s for you,” she uttered sarcastically. “Probably Cora wanting to confirm your plans.”

Rand jerked himself around and strode toward his den. The phone went silent. Either Rand had answered it, or the caller had hung up; Karen didn’t know.

She drew in a deep, calming breath and leaned her head back to quell the emotion. She hadn’t meant to say those things; her anger was hurting them both.

When Rand returned, his face was strangely troubled, the smoldering anger extinguished. “Karen, that was the hospital. Your father’s had a massive heart attack. We must hurry.”

The blood drained from Karen’s face, her hand flying to her mouth in shocked reaction. “Dear God, no,” she gasped. “Rand, tell me he’s all right, please.”

“Carl’s coming; we must hurry.” Her husband’s voice was tight with concern.

Later, Karen could hardly recall the tense drive to the hospital. She sat rigid with apprehension, her eyes closed. Matthew, her sweet, scheming, Scottish rogue of a father. Her lips moved in silent prayer, her spirit soothed by Rand’s fingers tightly clenching hers, offering his support, his love.

Their shoes sounded loudly against the polished floors of the hospital as they hurried down the winding corridors.

Evan, Milly, and Judy were already there, sitting silent and frightened. It was as though they were in a stupor; no one reacted to Karen until Judy gave a feeble cry and stood.

“He’s dying; surgery is his only chance.”

Evan remained seated, his look despondent, his face buried in his hands. When Karen entered the waiting area, he raised his hopeless, weary eyes to hers.

Milly, tears glistening in her eyes, could offer no encouragement.

“What happened?” Karen asked as if searching for some plausible reason for such a thing to happen to her father.

“I’ve known about his heart condition for a year now,” Evan answered her, “but I had no idea it was this serious.”

“Dad knew he needed the surgery but refused,” Judy added, shaking her head as if she couldn’t comprehend what was happening around her. “He was waiting to die,” she mumbled incredulously.

“To die?” Karen echoed her disbelief. She looked quizzically to Evan for an explanation.

The events of the evening were exacting their toll. Evan stared back, his face white and drawn. “I didn’t know. I swear to God I would have forced him to have the surgery if I’d known.”

Karen still didn’t understand; her gaze moved to Milly, helplessly searching for answers.

“Matthew learned his heart was bad, but decided he’d rather die and be with Madeline than prolong his life. He told us tonight before the aid car arrived that it was all
right now that you and Rand were married. He needn’t worry about you anymore.”

Her father’s strange behavior this past year suddenly became clear. All the dates he’d begun arranging for her, the pressure for her to marry and produce grandchildren. His heart condition was the reason he’d coerced Rand into marrying her. Matthew had known she loved Rand, and when things didn’t look as though they were going to work out between them, he took matters into his own hands.

No wonder Matthew had looked so wan and pale at times. She knew that he missed her mother, but not to the extent that he would rather die than go on living. How stupid she’d been. It was as if the weight of the whole world had come crashing down on her. She had been closest to her father; she should have guessed what was happening, should have recognized the symptoms. Her father had been biding his time all along, hoping she would marry, forcing men upon her so she would be secure before his heart gave out.

“We were playing chess,” Evan began, interrupting Karen’s thoughts. “He just fell over. I thought he was dead.”

“The doctor says that unless Dad has the surgery, he won’t last the night. They’re prepping him now. It doesn’t look good, not good at all.” Judy’s voice cracked on a sob.

For the first time, Rand spoke: “It seems to me the lot of you have given Matthew up for dead. Matthew McAlister is a cursed old bulldog; once he’s faced death, I doubt that he’ll go without a gallant fight.”

The doctor appeared, his face grim. Matthew was ready for surgery. Again, the older man explained the procedure, making it sound very routine, yet didn’t minimize the risks involved. Karen and Judy could see their father for only a few minutes.

The sight of tubes and IVs brought reality to the seriousness of Matthew’s condition. Slow tears wound their way down Karen’s cheeks and chin as she stooped to kiss Matthew’s brow tenderly. Judy remained at the foot of the hospital bed, her hand over her mouth to hold back her distress.

Matthew’s eyes flickered open; he appeared drugged and woozy. Nurses were keeping a constant watch on his vital signs and hovered around the bed.

“Dad,” Karen whispered, leaning close to his ear. “The granddaughter you’ve been wanting so long is due in five short months. She’d very much like to know her grandfather. Please live, Dad. Fight this.”

Gently, the arms of a nurse comforted Karen, pulling her back from the bed. “We’re ready to take him to surgery,” she whispered soothingly. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll take good care of your father.”

Judy collapsed into tears, returning to Evan and Milly, while Karen stood alone in
the hall until her father had been wheeled from sight.

When Karen entered the waiting area, she’d never felt so alone or so afraid. As if by instinct, Rand met her, wrapping her tightly against him, lending her his strength, his faith. Karen clung to her husband, desperately needing his support.

The night seemed endless, each second, each minute interminable. The small group huddled together, as if their presence would aid Matthew’s battle for life. By dawn, the thin thread of hope remained taut and capable of snapping at any time. Yet Matthew clung to it obstinately.

Sometime during the long night, each one fell victim to despair and discouragement. Only Rand remained confident during the endless vigil. His gentle assurance lent strength, encouragement, and hope; all four leaned heavily on him.

When Dr. Phillips reappeared, clothed in a green surgical gown, the family, watching his approach, remained paralyzed, afraid of what he would say, yet equally fearing the unknown.

Matthew had survived the surgery. He remained a critically ill man, and the next few days would hold the highest risk. Dr. Phillips advised them to go home and get some rest; there was nothing any of them could do to help Matthew’s condition.

Rand, Milly, and Evan rose to leave, but Karen and Judy glanced at each other in unspoken agreement. They would stay, confident their love for Matthew was stronger than the power of death.

“Judy and I are staying,” Karen told Rand.