Danielle Steel - Heartbeat

“What exactly do they deal with?” She took a sharp breath and tried to regain her composure as she wiped the tears off her cheeks with trembling fingers.

“Your …uh …the baby. Mr. Townsend would like to renounce any parental rights antenatally. It seems a little premature and I must tell you, I've advised him against it. It's a highly unusual procedure. But he's adamant that that's what he wants. I've drawn up some papers in draft form, just for you to look at. They state simply that he renounces any claim to the baby. As a result, he would have no visiting rights, no claim to the child once it's born. It would not bear his name. You will be asked to resume your maiden name, as well as give it to the baby. His name would not appear on the birth certificate when it was born, and, of course …you and the child would have no legal or financial claim on Mr. Townsend. He wanted to offer some monetary remuneration for this, but I explained to him that according to California law, we couldn't do that. There must be no exchange of money in the renunciation of his parental rights, or it could later be declared invalid.” She was crying openly by then and she didn't give a damn if the attorney heard her.

“What do you want from me? And why are you calling me today?” she sobbed. “This is a holiday, you aren't even supposed to be working.” Steven had told him she would probably be at the station and it would be a good time to catch her, so he was calling from home. He felt like a complete louse telling her those things, but he had thought it would be worse if she had just opened her mail and found it all there. Steven had insisted he had no quarrel with her, she had been a good wife and they had been happy, he just didn't want the baby and she had refused to abort it. It seemed perfectly sensible to him. And Larry Allman wondered if Townsend was a little less than reasonable on this issue. But it wasn't his job to argue with him. He had tried to talk him into counseling, urged him to reconsider, and not to do anything about the termination of parental rights until after the baby came and he at least saw it. But Steven didn't want to hear it.

“Mrs. Townsend,” Allman said quietly, “I'm really sorry. There's no pleasant way to advise you of all this. I thought that maybe a phone call …”

“It's not your fault,” she sobbed, wishing that she could change the way Steven felt, but she knew that she couldn't. “Is he okay?” she asked, much to Allman's amazement.

“He's fine. Are you okay?” That seemed a lot more important.

She nodded as fresh tears rolled down her face. “I'm fine.”

He smiled sadly at his end. “I'm sorry to say, you don't sound it.”

“It's been a lousy day …the senator's son and now this.” It was all so awful. And she had had such a nice weekend before this. “Do you suppose …” She felt stupid asking him, but she wanted to know if he thought Steven would change his mind once the baby was born, and maybe if he saw it. She still believed somehow that seeing it would change everything. After all, he was the baby's father. “You don't think he'll change his mind, do you? I mean …later …”

“He could. He's taking some awfully radical steps. Unduly so in some areas, but he seems determined to do this now, for his own peace of mind. He wants everything spelled out, and legally resolved.”

“When will the divorce go through?” Not that it mattered anyway. What difference did it make? Except that it would have been nice to be married when she had the baby.

“Actually, he filed the petition two weeks ago. Which means that your divorce will be final … I'd say in mid-December.” Wonderful. Two weeks before the baby. With no father's name on the birth certificate. It was great news. She certainly was glad he had called her.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, I …I'll be sending the papers out to you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes again, and her hands were still shaking.

“We'll be in touch in a couple of months about the condo. And, of course, any request for spousal support would be appropriate coming from your attorney.”

“I don't have an attorney. And I don't want spousal support.”

“I think you should seek the advice of counsel, Mrs. Townsend. You have a right to spousal support according to the laws of California.” And he thought she'd be foolish if she didn't take it. He hated the case. And he would have liked to see her at least get some money out of Steven. He owed her something, for chrissake. And he had advised him of that himself. “We'll be in touch.”

“Thank you.” She listened as the phone clicked in her ear after he said good-bye, and she stood holding the receiver for a long time, as though a voice was going to tell her it was all a mistake, and they were just kidding. But they weren't kidding. Steven had filed for divorce, and he wanted papers saying that he was giving up his rights to the baby. It was the worst thing she had ever heard, and she stood shaking as she thought about it, wondering what she was going to do now. In truth, nothing had really changed. She still had the town house for a while, he still had all their furniture, and she still had the baby. But everything really had changed. She had no hope anymore, except a wild fantasy that eventually he would come back and fall head over heels in love with his baby. But even she knew that that was unlikely. What she had to face now was having the baby alone, keeping her job, finding a new home, and at least buying a couch to sit on. But more important, she had to face the fact that he was divorcing her, and legally, the baby would have no father. It was a stunning blow and her shoulders shook as she cried, as she finally put down the receiver. She had her back to the door, and she hadn't heard anyone walk into her office. And seeing only her back turned toward him, he hadn't realized that she was crying. She turned slowly, her face awash with tears, and through the mist, she saw him. It was Bill Thigpen.

“Oh my God …I'm sorry … I didn't mean to … I guess this is a bad time.” It was a mild understatement, and she tried to smile through her tears as she groped under her desk for a tissue.

“No …I …actually …it's fine …” And then she collapsed into a chair, crying again, as she buried her face in her hands. “No …it's awful.” There was no way to explain it to him, and she didn't really want to. “It's just …I'm not … I can't …” She wasn't even making sense, as he walked over to her, and gently rubbed her shoulders.

“Take it easy, Adrian. It's going to be all right. Whatever it is, it'll get straightened out sooner or later.” He wondered if she had gotten fired, or someone had died. She was shaking all over, and she looked green, she was so pale. For a moment, he wondered if she was going to faint. But he made her take a deep breath and handed her a glass of water, and a minute later, she looked better. “Looks like you've had a terrific morning.” He looked down at her sympathetically and she tried to smile, but it was a meager effort.

“It's been quite a day.” She blew her nose again, and looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment and appreciation. “First the senator's son is kidnapped and killed and we get five thousand miles of tape on it, with close-ups of his throat slit.” She sobbed again, thinking of it. “And then …” She hesitated, looking up at Bill, debating whether or not to tell him. But there was no point to keeping it a secret anymore, and even if it was her fault, it hadn't been her decision. “And then … I got this stupid call from my husband's attorney.” Her eyes filled with tears again and her voice trembled as she said it.

“Attorney? What's he calling you for? And today's a holiday anyway.”