Danielle Steel - Heartbeat

She couldn't believe what he was doing to her or that he would actually leave her. But when she got to the apartment, he had already packed three suitcases, two tennis rackets, his golf clubs, and a whole other suitcase full of papers.

“I don't believe you're doing this.” She stared around her in utter disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“I am,” he said coolly. “Very much so. Take as long as you want to make up your mind, you can call me at the office. I'll be back when you get rid of the baby.”

“And if I don't?”

“I'll come back for the rest of my things when you let me know.”

“Simple as that?” Something deep inside her was beginning to burn, but another part of her wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but the terror didn't show as she looked at her husband. “You're behaving like a complete lunatic. I hope you know that.”

“I'm not aware of that. And as far as I'm concerned you have violated any basis of trust and decency in this marriage.”

“By having our baby?”

“By going against something you know I feel deeply about.” He sounded so uptight and so prim, she wanted to hit him.

“All right. I'm human. I changed. But I think we can do this. We have a lot to offer any child. And I think anyone else would think so, too, by any normal standards.”

“I don't want a child.”

“And I don't want an abortion just because you think you don't like children and you don't want it to interfere with your trip to Europe.”

“That's a low blow.” He looked highly insulted. “The trip to Europe has nothing to do with it. It's the entire picture. This baby will deprive us of a life-style we've worked our asses off for, and I'm not willing to give that up on a whim, or because you're too scared to get an abortion.”

“I'm not too scared, goddammit,” she screamed at him, “I want the baby. Haven't you figured that out yet?”

“All I've figured out is that you're doing this because you want to get at me.” In his eyes, it was the final treason, the ultimate betrayal.

“Why would I do a thing like that?” she asked as he checked his closet again, to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything he wanted.

“I don't know,” he responded. “I haven't figured that out yet.”

“And you're really telling me that if I keep the baby, you're leaving me for good?” He nodded and looked her in the eye as he did, and all Adrian could do was shake her head, and sit down on the steps to the upstairs as he carried his bags out. “You're really leaving me, aren't you?” She started to cry again, and she sat on the stairs watching him wrestle with his bags, unable to believe he was really leaving her, but he was. After two and a half years of marriage, he was walking out on her because she was having his baby. It was difficult to believe, harder still to understand, but as she stared at him in disbelief, he carried the last of his suitcases to the car and came back to look at her from the doorway.

“Let me know what you decide.” His eyes were like ice, his face perfectly calm as she sobbed and walked toward him.

“Please don't do this to me …I'll be good … I promise … I won't even let it cry …Steven, please …don't make me give it up …and don't leave me …I need you….”She clung to him like a child and he took a step back as though she revolted him, and it only made her feel more panicked.

“Get hold of yourself, Adrian. You have a choice in this. It's up to you.”

“No it's not.” She was crying almost uncontrollably. “You're asking me to do something I can't do.”

“You can do anything you want,” he said coolly to her, and she turned on him then with a look of anger.

“So can you. You can adjust to it if you want to.”

“That's the whole point,” he said as he looked down at her, “I already told you, Adrian, I don't want to.” He picked up his tennis rackets then, and with a last look at her, without another word, he closed the door behind him, as Adrian stood staring at the spot where he had been. It was hard to believe he had actually done this to her. He had left her.

THERE WAS NO SMELL OF BACON WHEN SHE AWOKE this Saturday morning. No breakfast tray waiting for her. No omelet made by loving hands. There were no good smells, good sounds, friendly noises. There was nothing. Only silence. She was alone. And the realization hit her like a weight on her heart almost as soon as she woke up. She stirred in the bed, looking for him, and then just as suddenly she remembered. Steven had left her.

She had called in sick for the late news the night before. She had been too upset to go anywhere, and she had just lain on her bed and cried until she finally fell asleep with the lights on. She had woken up again at three a.m., peeled off her clothes, turned off the lights, and put on her nightgown, and now as she woke up, she felt like an alcoholic waking up from a two-week binge. Her eyes were swollen, her mouth was dry, her stomach was in her throat, and her whole body felt battered. It had been a hell of a night, a hell of a week. In fact, it had been a miserable ten days ever since she had discovered she was pregnant. And she still had the choice he had given her. She could still have the abortion and he would come back, but if she did, what would they have now? Mutual resentment and anger and eventually hatred. She knew that if she gave up the baby for him, she would eventually hate him, and if she didn't, he would always resent her. In one little week, they had managed to destroy what she had always considered a fairly decent marriage.

She lay in bed for a long time, thinking of him, and wondering what had made him do it. Obviously his memories of his childhood had been far worse than she had ever realized, and he had been truly traumatized, not just turned off, by the prospect of having children. It was not something that was going to change overnight, or maybe ever. And he would have had to want to change it very badly, which he didn't.

The phone rang then, and for a desperate moment, she prayed that it was Steven. He had come to his senses, changed his mind … he wanted her …and the baby…. She picked it up with a hopeful croak, and a crestfallen look. It was her mother. She called once every few months and Adrian never enjoyed speaking to her anymore. Their conversations had always centered around her sister's glowing deeds, which, as far as Adrian was concerned, were few, and unpleasant references to Steven. Most of all, her mother made not-so-veiled comments about Adrian's many failings. She hadn't called, hadn't come home for Christmas in years, had forgotten her father's birthday, her parents' anniversary, had moved to California, married someone they didn't like, and had compounded it by failing to have children. At least her mother had given up asking her if she and Steven had seen a doctor.

Adrian assured her now that everything was fine, wished her a belated happy Mother's Day from the week before, realizing that she had failed yet again, and told her mother that she'd been working so hard, she'd forgotten what day it was. Not to mention the fact that she had her own problems.

“How's Dad?” she managed to ask, only to be told that he was getting old, but that her brother-in-law had just bought a new Cadillac and what kind of car did Steven drive anyway? A Porsche? What was that? Oh, a foreign car, and did Adrian still drive that ridiculous little car she'd had in college? Her mother admitted to being shocked that Steven didn't buy her a decent car. Her sister had two cars now. A Mustang, and a Volvo. It was a conversation designed to irritate in every possible way, and it did. Adrian only said that everything was fine, and Steven was out playing tennis. It would have been nice having a mother she could talk to, someone whose shoulder she could cry on, someone who could bolster her spirits. But her mother was only interested in keeping score, and when she'd heard enough she told Adrian to give Steven her “best,” and hung up without offering any comfort.