Danielle Steel - Malice

They landed at eight-fifteen, and he got to Lenox Hill just after nine o'clock. They were just wheeling Grace into her room when he got there. He followed the gurney into the room, and she looked surprised to see him, and very groggy.

“How did you get here?” She looked confused, and her eyes kept drifting shut, as the nurse and the orderly left the room. Grace looked gray and utterly exhausted.

“I flew,” he smiled, standing next to her, and gently took her hand in his. He had no idea if she knew yet about the baby.

“I think I fell,” she said vaguely.

“Where?”

“I don't remember … I was in a cab in Washington and someone hit us …” She wasn't sure now if it was a dream or not … “And then, I had terrible pains …” She looked up at him, suddenly worried. “Where am I?”

“You're at Lenox Hill. In New York,” he said soothingly, sitting down in the chair next to her, but never letting go of her hand. He was frightened by how bad she looked and was anxious to speak to the doctor.

“How did I get here?”

“I think a cabdriver brought you in. You passed out in his cab. Drunk again, I guess.” He smiled, but without saying anything, she started to cry then. She had touched her belly and it felt flat. At three months there had been a little hill growing there and it was suddenly gone. And then she remembered the terrible pain the night before, and the bleeding. No one had told her anything yet about the baby. “Grace? … sweetheart, I love you … I love you more than anything. I want you to know that. I don't want to lose you.” She was crying harder then, for him, for the baby they'd lost, and their children. Everything was so difficult, and so sad now.

“I lost the baby … didn't I?” She looked at him for confirmation and he nodded. They both cried then, and he held her.

“I'm so sorry. I should have been smart enough to know you'd really go. I thought you were bluffing and needed some space that night. I almost died when I read your letter.”

“Did you give my letters to the children?”

“No,” he said honestly. “I kept them. I wanted to find you and bring you back. But if I'd been smart enough to keep you from going in the first place, you wouldn't have had the accident, and …” He was convinced it was all his fault.

“Shhh … maybe it was just from ail the stress we've been through … I guess it wasn't the right time anyway, with everything that's happened.”

“It's always the right time … I want to have another baby with you,” he said lovingly. He didn't care how old they both were, they both loved their children. “I want our life back.”

“So do I,” she whispered. They talked for a little while, and he stroked her hair and kissed her face, and eventually she fell asleep and he went to locate the doctor. But he wasn't encouraging. She had lost a dramatic amount of blood, and the doctor didn't think she'd be feeling well for a while, and he said that while she was certainly able to conceive again, he didn't recommend it. She had a startling amount of scarring, and he was actually surprised she'd gotten pregnant as often as she had. Charles did not volunteer an explanation for the scarring. The doctor suggested that she go to the hotel and rest for a couple of days, and then go home to Washington and stay in bed for at least another week, maybe two. A miscarriage at three months with the kind of hemorrhaging she'd experienced was nothing to take lightly.

They went from the hospital to the hotel that afternoon, and Grace was stunned by how weak she was. She could hardly walk and Charles carried her into the hotel, and to her room, and put her right to bed, and ordered room service for her. She was sad, but they were happy to be together, and the room was very cozy. He called his aides in Washington and told them that he wouldn't be back for a couple of days, and then he called the housekeeper and told her to explain to the children that he was with their mother in New York, and would be back in two days. She promised to stay with them until he returned, and drive Matt to school. Everything was in order.

“Nice and simple. Now all you have to do is get well, and try to forget what happened.”

But after they left the hospital, the nurse at the front desk had commented to the doctor, “Do you know who that was?” He had no idea. The name had meant nothing to him. “That was Congressman Mackenzie from Connecticut and his porno queen wife. Don't you read the tabloids?”

“No, I don't,” he said, barely amused. Porno queen or not, the woman had been very lucky not to bleed to death. And he wondered if her “porno” activities had anything to do with the scarring. But he didn't have time to worry about it, he had surgery all afternoon. She wasn't his problem.

At the hotel, Charles made her sleep as much as she could, and the next morning, Grace was feeling better. She ate breakfast and sat up in a chair, and she wanted to go out for a walk with him, but she didn't have the strength to do it. She couldn't believe how rotten she felt. He called her former obstetrician in New York, and he was nice enough to come to see her. He gave her some pills and some vitamins, and told her she'd just have to be patient. And when they went out in the hall, Charles asked him about what the doctor at Lenox Hill had said about the scarring. But her own doctor wasn't impressed. She'd had it for years and it had never given her any trouble.

“She's got to take it easy now though, Charles. She looks like she's lost a lot of blood. She's probably very anemic.”

“I know. She's had a rough time lately.”

“I know. I've seen. Neither of you deserves that. I'm sorry.”

He thanked him and the doctor left, and they curled up on the couch and watched old movies and ordered room service, and the next day, he bundled her up in a limousine, and took her to the airport, and put her in a wheelchair. He had thought about driving her back to Washington, but that seemed too tiring too. Flying was quicker. They flew first class, and he got another wheelchair for her when they arrived, and he wheeled her quickly through the airport. But she waved frantically for him to stop as they passed a newspaper stand. And they both stood there, dumbfounded by what they saw.

A new edition of the tabloid had come out with a raging headline. “Senator's Wife Sneaks off to New York for Abortion.” Grace burst into tears the minute she saw it, and he didn't even bother to buy one for them to read. There was a huge picture of her on the front from a congressional party months before. He just wheeled her through the airport at full speed and took her to where he had left his car two days before. She was still crying when he opened the door for her with a strained expression. Were they never going to give her a break and leave them alone? Apparently not.

He helped her into the car, and walked around and got in himself, and then he turned to her with a look that touched her very soul. “I love you. You can't let them destroy us … or you … we have to get through this.”

“I know,” she said, but she couldn't stop crying.

At least this time, the six o'clock news did not dignify the story with a comment. This was strictly tabloid material. And they told the children about it that night but said it wasn't true. They said that Grace had gone to New York and been in an accident in a cab, which was almost true. She had, but it had been in Washington, and she had lost a baby. But Grace didn't think they should know that, so they didn't tell them about the miscarriage.

She was still feeling very weak the next day, but the children were being very good to her, even Abby brought breakfast to her room, and at lunchtime Grace went downstairs for a cup of tea, and happened to look out the window. There were pickets lined up outside carrying signs of “Murderess!” “Baby Killer!” “Abortion Monger.” There were photographs of aborted fetuses, and Grace had an asthma attack the moment she saw them.