Within Reach (13 page)

Blake called on Wednesday night. “Danica?”

“Blake! Hi!”

“Did I get you from somewhere? The phone rang eight times before you picked it up.”

“I was on the deck. The surf is wilder than usual and I didn’t hear the ring at first.”

“Bad weather?”

“Not yet. But it looks like it’s going to pour. How is everything?”

“Just fine.”

“…Anything new at the office?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“…I assume the party went well on Saturday.”

“Uh-huh. They were asking for you.”

“Oh?”

“You sound surprised.”

“A little. I never thought I was noticed at those things.”

“Come on. There are always women there for you to talk with.”

“Right. Well, I’m sure they had each other.”

There was a brief silence from the other end of the line. Then: “So, how are you doing?”

“Really well. I finished Vidal’s
Lincoln
. It was interesting.” She paused to give Blake an opportunity to ask her about it. When he didn’t, she went on. “And I’ve started Ludlum’s latest. I’m not sure I like it as well as some of his others, but it may just be that I’m having trouble getting into it.”

“So, you’ve been spending your time reading.”

“Not all of it. I drive into town every morning. I’m thinking of getting a bike.”

“Isn’t it awfully hilly there for a bike?”

“Nah. It’d be great exercise.”

“I suppose. And since you’re not dancing—”

“But I am! I put music on and go through the routine from my class once a day. That was one of the reasons I wanted a stereo up here. Regarding the bike, though, it’d be fun as well as practical. With the summer crowds here, it’s sometimes hard to find a parking space in town. I feel guilty taking the car when it’s so close. It can’t be more than five miles into town and back.”

“What do you do in town? The shops don’t change that much from day to day, do they?”

“No. But the people are lovely. I got to talking with a woman who owns the sportswear shop. She’s fascinating. She has a Ph.D. in biology and worked in research for six years before deciding to chuck it all and move up here. Her husband is an artist and has a gallery down the block from her shop. I bought one of his paintings. It’s a seascape, but very modern. It looks great in the bedroom.”

“Sounds good.”

“…Sara and I had lunch together today. It was nice. Oh, and I’m working up the beginnings of a tan.”

“Be careful with that. Too much sun is bad for the skin.”

“I use lotion.”

“Make sure it’s Factor 15. I wouldn’t want you to be all wrinkled and leathery by the end of the summer.”

“I won’t be all wrinkled and leathery. I just may look healthy.”

“Good. Listen, Pook, I have to run. We’re meeting tonight with a new account. Harlan’s giving me the high sign.”

“You’re still at the office?” It was seven o’clock. She assumed he would be calling from home.

“Not for long. I’m on my way.” His words were directed as much to the man standing in the room, Danica guessed, as to her.

“Go ahead. Good luck with your meeting. And give Harlan my best.” She couldn’t stand Harlan Magnusson, with his French-cut suits, dark curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was always moving. He made her nervous. Still, he was her husband’s right-hand man.

“Will do. We’ll talk more another time. Bye-bye.”

It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that he called again, and the conversation opened along similar lines. Yes, he was fine. No, there was nothing new at the office. Yes, she was fine. No, she wasn’t bored.

“The Fourth of July was fun up here, Blake. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it.”

“You know that I had to be in Philadelphia. We discussed it when I drove you up there.”

“Yes. Did everything go well?”

“Just fine.”

“I’m glad. There was a fireworks display here. I went with one of our neighbors.” She broached the subject with a nonchalance she didn’t feel, but she realized that Michael had been right that she tell Blake of their friendship. It wasn’t so much that she saw it as a deterrent to physical involvement; since she and Michael had aired their feelings, they seemed able to keep things under control. It was more a matter of accounting for her time, a good deal of which was spent with him. It was also a matter of being covered should she run into someone she knew when she was with Michael. It seemed only fair that if Blake was to get a report back that his wife was seen with another man, he would be able to say with confidence, “Oh, yes. I know. He’s a good friend.”

“You’ve met the neighbors?” Blake asked now.

“Several.” It was the truth. She had taken walks by herself on the roads near the house and had encountered various of the homeowners nearby. “There’s a retired banker and his wife—Kilsythe?”

“City Trust. I’ve heard of him.”

“And an anesthesiologist and his family. The one I went to the fireworks display with is a writer.”

“Oh?”

“A historian. You’ll know his family. Buchanan.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Watch out for him.”

“Oh, he’s safe. He doesn’t have anything to do with his family’s papers.”

“You can never be too careful.”

She paused, about to argue more until she realized the futility of it. “I’ll be careful.…Blake? We’re still on for Saturday night, aren’t we?” They had a longstanding commitment to attend a movie premiere, a benefit for the Heart Association.

“Of course. When can I expect you?”

“I thought I’d come in on Friday.” She had made a doctor’s appointment for that afternoon, though as yet she didn’t want to say anything to Blake. “I’ll drive back Sunday. Is that okay?”

“Sounds fine. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. Bye-bye.”

Friday afternoon Danica learned that she was indeed pregnant.

six

d
ANICA GAVE BLAKE THE GOOD WORD SHORTLY after he arrived home from work on Friday evening. He was surprised, then pleased, and insisted on calling her parents immediately. It was easier said than done, though Danica might have predicted that. It seemed the Marshalls had left their Connecticut home, where Blake had expected they would be, to spend the weekend with a congressman friend of William’s at a horse farm in Kentucky. After a series of forwarding calls, which Blake endured with characteristic patience, he eventually got through and passed on the news with a pride suggesting that he had accomplished the deed on his own.

For the most part, Danica let him do the talking. She couldn’t help but feel that he was more pleased with the enhancement of his own image than with the fact itself. But she was loathe to criticize, when she, too, felt a little of the same. Her father was gratified; in his eyes, her status soared, and that mattered to her. Still, deep down inside, her greatest joy was in the prospect of holding a baby in her arms, of being needed by a helpless infant, of loving it and having it love her in return.

On the drive back to Maine on Sunday afternoon, that joy emerged full force. She couldn’t keep from smiling. The prospect of her future had, with the doctor’s pronouncement, taken a turn for the better. For the first time in months she felt optimistic. And she couldn’t wait to tell Michael.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t home. She let the phone ring for a while, dialed right back on the chance that she might have misdialed the first time, then tried again five minutes later, thinking that he might have been in the shower.

Undaunted, she changed from her city sundress into a tank top and shorts and walked the beach for a while, grinning, sighing happily, edging closer and closer to Michael’s house in the hope that he would return and saunter out on the deck. In time she stationed herself on the boulder she’d come to think of as theirs, with the confidence that Michael would find her.

Sure enough, not long after, as the sun dipped low behind her, she heard his call and saw him trotting toward her down the beach. He came to a halt on the sand beneath her.

“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” he said, eyes narrowed in speculation.

Beaming from ear to ear, she nodded. “I saw the doctor on Friday.” She didn’t have to explain.

“And it’s true?”

She could only grin and nod again.

“Hey, Dani, that’s great!” He made his way up the rocks to where she sat and hugged her soundly. “That’s great!” Fortunately, he’d had time to get used to the idea. While on the one hand he regretted that a child would be another tie binding Danica to Blake Lindsay, on the other he was thrilled for her. He knew how much she wanted a baby. “When’s it due?”

“In February. I’m just six weeks pregnant.”

“And the doctor gave you a clean bill of health?”

“Yup. I’ve got vitamins to take, but that’s it.”

“How about Blake?”

She grinned. “No vitamins. His job is done.”

“Not a very modern view, but that wasn’t what I meant anyway. How did he take the news?”

“Happily. He called my folks, then his.” He’d done the latter only reluctantly, and then, not until Sunday morning. Danica had never been able to understand his relationship with his family. His parents and only sibling, a brother, were of solid middle-class stock living and working in Detroit. Though Blake sent them money from time to time, he seemed to want little else to do with them. Danica was the one to send birthday and anniversary cards, not to mention keeping after Blake to call them. She felt badly; she had only seen them four times in the eight years of her marriage.

“I assume they were all duly excited,” Michael speculated.

“Uh-huh. It was amazing. My mother grew really concerned. She went on and on about what I should and shouldn’t do and how to take care of myself. She never did that when I was a child.”

“You knew all the answers back then?” he teased.

“Not quite. I had to find them for myself, though. Mom was never there.”

“Of course she was. You’re exaggerating.”

“Don’t I wish. In fact, as I remember, I did an awful
lot
of wishing back then on this very topic. Mom was always in and out as my father’s schedule demanded. She never seemed to be there when I needed her.” She grew more pensive. “I remember when I had the chicken pox. I was seven at the time and my father was running for his first term. Was I ever sick. The only thing I wanted was for her to hold me. She was campaigning with him, of course. So I just burrowed under the covers and…and itched.”

Michael ached for her. “There must have been someone with you.”

“Oh, yes. We had a housekeeper. She was very efficient, a good cook, and she cleaned beautifully. Unfortunately, at the time I couldn’t bear the thought of food and I could have cared less about a clean house. What I wanted was my mother.”

He could understand it. He remembered being sick himself, having his mother sit with him, read to him, dote on him. There had been times when he had actually welcomed a cold, just to have that time alone with her. It had been very special, something he would always remember.

Thinking of the very different experience Danica had had, he had to struggle to curb his anger. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

She flashed him a sad smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but you’re right. A mother should be there. I’m sorry you had to weather the storm alone.”

“Well, I suppose it was good training. I got used to it, even though I always wished things were different. They will be for my child, that’s for sure.” She sighed. “Which brings us back to what I was saying. Among other things, my mother told me to stay put in Boston. She thinks I’m crazy to be coming up here.”

“How did you answer that?”

“I
wanted
to say that it was none of her business, that she had no right to tell me what to do at this late date.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. In her own rather bizarre way, she does love me. I’m sure she’s legitimately concerned, and I suppose I should be grateful after so many years of going without. I told her that the doctor recommended fresh air and exercise. I also told her that I wanted the baby very badly and that she’d have to trust that I wouldn’t do anything to endanger its health.”

“How about Blake? Does he have any second thoughts about your being alone up here now?”

“Blake echoed Mom’s sentiments after I’d hung up, but I don’t think he’s really worried. I’m not an invalid, for heaven’s sake.”

“I can understand his concern. You are alone here.”

“I have you,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

He returned the look, though his own teasing was strictly on the surface. “True.…Is this new?” He fingered the gold necklace at her neck; it was a delicate serpentine chain with a diamond embedded at its center. Of course, her skin fascinated him even more, warm and soft where his fingers brushed it.

“Blake gave it to me on Saturday. He felt the occasion called for something.” Blake was very good at that, very proper. As forgetful as he was when it came to his family in Detroit, he had a set image in his mind of how he should treat his wife. There was jewelry on each anniversary, a fur or other piece of expensive clothing on each birthday, a bouquet of flowers on Valentine’s Day. Of course, Danica would have been just as happy with a quiet dinner for the two of them on any of those occasions, but she was never consulted.

“Not bad,” Michael mused.

“Not necessary,” she argued.

He accepted her curtness as a statement in itself, and leaned back. “Funny, you don’t look pregnant.” Given good excuse, he raked her length, admiring the firm thrust of her small breasts, the slimness of her waist and hips, the shapeliness of her legs.

“Thank goodness. If I looked pregnant at this early stage, just imagine how I’ll look six months down the road.”

“You’ll look wonderful.” He met her gaze without hesitation. “You’ll be a beautiful mother.”

She smiled, feeling self-conscious but pleased that Michael had thought to say such words. “Thank you. You’re good for my ego.”