Danielle Steel - Family album

“It's for our third anniversary, silly girl.” It had been three months that day, and they were the happiest months of Faye's life, or Ward's. There was not a single cloud on their horizon to worry them. He slipped the ring on her finger, and they danced for hours, but he noticed that tonight she looked a little tired when they went back to their table. They had been up late for several nights, several months in fact, he acknowledged with a small smile, but it was the first time he had noticed it taking a toll on her. “Do you feel all right, sweetheart?”

“Fine.” She smiled, but she also ate very little, drank not at all, and by eleven o'clock she was yawning, which was usually not her style.

“Well, I guess this is it. The honeymoon's over.” Ward pretended to look crushed, “I'm beginning to bore you.”

“No … how awful … I'm sorry, darling … I just

“I know … never mind. Don't try to explain.” He teased her mercilessly all the way home, and when he went into the bathroom to undress and brush his teeth, he returned to find her sound asleep, cozy in their big double bed, and appealing in her pink satin nightgown. But he attempted to rouse her to no avail, she was dead to the world, and it was obvious why the next morning. She awoke and was desperately ill immediately after eating breakfast. It was the first time he had seen her sick, and he was frantic and insisted on calling the doctor to the house, despite all of her protests.

“For heaven's sake … it's just the flu or something. You can't drag the poor man all the way out here. I'm fine.” But she didn't feel it.

“The hell you are. You're absolutely green. Now go to bed and stay there until the doctor comes.” But when he arrived, he saw no reason whatsoever for Mrs. Thayer to stay in bed, not unless she intended to stay there for another eight months. According to his calculations, the baby was due in November. “A baby? A baby! Our baby!” Ward was absolutely beside himself with excitement and relief, and Faye laughed at him as he danced around the room when the doctor left. He was quick to come to her side, begging her to tell him what she wanted, needed, or what he could do to make her feel better. She was delighted at the news and his reaction, and of course as soon as word was out, it made headlines. “Retired Movie Queen Expecting First Child.” Nothing in their life remained a secret for long, but Ward couldn't have kept it to himself anyway. He told it to anyone who would listen, and treated Faye like the most delicate piece of glass, and if he had lavished gifts on her before, it was nothing to what he did for her now. She didn't have enough drawers and jewel boxes to keep all the outrageously expensive baubles he bought her.

“Ward, you have to stop! I don't even have room to keep it all anymore.”

“Then we'll build a cottage just for your jewels.” He laughed mischievously and all her scolding was for naught. If he wasn't buying jewels for her, he was buying prams and pony carts and mink buntings and teddy bears, and he even had a full-scale carousel built on the estate. He allowed Faye to ride slowly around on it in October when she walked across the grounds to see it for herself.

She had been feeling remarkably well since the first few queasy months, and her only complaint was that she was so large she felt like a balloon about to take off. “All I need is a basket attached to my heels and they could rent me out for sightseeing trips over L.A.,” she told a friend one day and Ward was outraged. He thought she looked beautiful, even in her swollen state, and he was so excited, he could barely stand the remaining month to wait. She had reservations in the finest hospital in town, and she was being attended by the fanciest doctor.

“Only the best for my darling and my baby,” he always said as he attempted to ply her with champagne, but she had no taste for it anymore, and there were times when she wished he didn't either. It wasn't that he got drunk when he drank, it was just that he drank so much of it when he did, and he seemed to drink it all day long, moving on to scotch when they went out in the evening. But she hated to complain. He was so good to her in so many ways, how could she object to a little thing like that? And she knew he meant well, when he ordered a case of their favorite champagne sent ahead to the hospital, so it would be waiting for them when the big moment arrived. “I hope they keep it chilled.” He ordered Westcott, the majordomo, to call the hospital and instruct them exactly how to cool it, and Faye laughed.

“I suspect they may have a few other things on their minds, my love.” Although the hospital she would be going to was used to such requests. It was where all the big stars gave birth to their babies.

“I can't imagine what,” he said. “What's more important than keeping the champagne cool for my love?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things …” Her eyes told him all he wanted to know, and he held her gently in his arms, and they kissed as they always had. He was hungry for her, even now, but the doctor had said that they couldn't make love anymore. And Faye could hardly wait until they could again. It seemed an eternity to wait, and his hands roved over her full belly, night after night, loving even that, and wanting her desperately.

'This is almost as bad as before we made love for the first time,” he complained with a wry smile as he climbed out of bed late one night and poured himself a glass of champagne. Her due date was only three days away, but the doctor had warned them that the baby could be several weeks late. First babies often were, so they were prepared for a late arrival, and it was beginning to seem like forever to both of them.

“I'm so sorry, love.” She looked tired now, and for the past few days any kind of movement at all had been exhausting. She hadn't even wanted to walk in the gardens with him that afternoon, and when he told her about the miniature pony he had bought, even that hadn't gotten her out. “I'm just too damn tired to move.” And that night, she insisted that she was too tired to even eat dinner. She had gone straight to bed at four in the afternoon, and now at two in the morning she was still there, looking like a giant pink silk balloon with marabou feathers around her collar.

“Want some champagne, sweetheart? It might help you sleep.” She shook her head, her back hurt, and she had been feeling queasy for the past several hours. On top of everything she thought she might be coming down with the flu.

“I don't think anything will help me sleep anymore.” One thing might have, she suggested lasciviously a moment later, but that was forbidden them.

“You'll probably be pregnant again before you leave the hospital. I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands off you for more than an hour after the baby's born.”

She laughed at the thought. “At least it's something to look forward to.” She looked doleful for the first time in nine months, and he kissed her gently and went to turn off the lights, but as he did he heard a sharp cry from the bed, and turned in surprise to see her face contorted by pain and then suddenly the pain was gone, and they both looked at each other in amazement.

“What was that?”

“I'm not sure.” She had read a couple of books, but she was still hazy about how to be absolutely certain when labor began. And everyone had warned her that in the last few weeks there would be endless false starts and false alarms, so they both knew that this wasn't likely to be “it.” But the pain had certainly been sharp, and Ward decided to leave the lights on and see if it happened again. But twenty minutes later, when it hadn't, and he went to turn the light off again, she gave another sharp cry, and this time she seemed to writhe in their bed and he noticed a film of perspiration on her face when he approached her.