Danielle Steel - Echoes

“I think I'm coming down with something.” She didn't tell him that she had just fainted in Véronique's boudoir during a fitting. She had even forgotten to bring the dress home with her. “How is Amadea doing with her lesson?” Beata said to distract him. “You should force her not to be so reckless.” She was seven, and absolutely fearless around horses. She particularly loved to jump over streams and hedges, much to her mother's horror.

“I'm not sure I can force her to do anything,” Antoine said with a rueful grin. “She seems to have her own ideas on a multitude of subjects.” She had her mother's sharp mind and interests on a myriad of topics, but she also had a daredevil quality to her that concerned them both. There appeared to be almost nothing she thought she couldn't do or was afraid of. It was a good thing in some ways, and terrifying in others. Beata was constantly afraid that something dreadful would happen to her. And as an only child, all her parents' love and attention was focused on her. Beata often thought too much so. But after seven years, it was obvious that Amadea was not going to have brothers or sisters, which was a circumstance both of her parents regretted. “Do you want me to walk you home?” Antoine asked, still looking concerned, and not successfully distracted from it. Beata was extremely fair-skinned normally, but when she wasn't feeling well, she developed an almost icelike pallor. And she appeared to be turning green as he spoke to her, and Véronique watched as well. Beata looked like she was going to faint again!

“I'm fine. I'm just going to lie down for a few minutes. Go back to our little monster.” They kissed briefly, and Beata walked the short distance to their home with Véronique, who helped her into bed a few minutes later, and left.

Antoine was relieved to see that she looked better when he got home that evening. And then worried again when she looked considerably worse the next morning. She was a pale shade of green as she got Amadea ready for school, and she had been almost unable to get out of bed before that, when he left for the stables. He came back at lunchtime to check on her.

“How do you feel?” he asked, frowning at her. He hated it when she was sick. His wife and daughter were all he had in the world, and all that really mattered to him. And there had been a lethal strain of influenza going around the previous winter.

“I feel better actually,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She wasn't being entirely truthful with him, and he knew it. He knew her far better than that.

“I want you to see the doctor,” he said firmly.

“He's not going to do anything. I'll take a nap this afternoon before Amadea comes home from school.

I'll be fine by this evening.” She insisted on making lunch for him, and she set it down in front of him, and sat next to him to keep him company, but he noticed that she didn't eat anything. She couldn't wait to get back to bed the moment he left for the stables.

Antoine was still worried about her a week later. Although she insisted she was fine, he could see that she felt no better, and he was frankly panicked. “If you don't go, I will take you myself. Now for heaven's sake, Beata, will you call him? I don't know what you're afraid of.” What she was afraid of in fact was disappointment. She had begun to suspect what was wrong with her, and she wanted to wait just a bit longer until she was certain, and before she told Antoine. But finally, she relented and agreed to see the doctor. He confirmed her suspicions, and she was smiling that night when Antoine got back from the stables, although she still felt dreadful.

“What did the doctor say?” Antoine asked her anxiously after Amadea went upstairs to put on her nightgown.

“He said I'm healthy as a horse … and I love you …” She was so happy, she could hardly contain her excitement.

“He said you love me?” Antoine laughed at her answer. “Well, that's nice of him, but I already knew that much. What did he think was wrong that you've been feeling so poorly?” But she certainly seemed in better spirits, and very playful. She was almost giddy.

“Nothing a little time won't cure,” she said obliquely.

“Did he think it's a mild form of influenza? If so, my darling, you really have to be careful.” They both knew a number of people who had died of it the previous winter. It was lethal, and nothing to fool around with.

“No, not in the least,” she reassured him. “Actually, it's a very definite and quite pronounced case of pregnancy.” She beamed at him. “We're having a baby.” Finally. After all her prayers. When the baby came, there would be eight years between their two children.

“We are?” Like her, Antoine had long since given up hope of a second baby. After the first easy conception and pregnancy, it had simply never happened since then. “How wonderful, my darling! How very, very wonderful!” he said, looking as happy as she did.

“What's wonderful?” Amadea asked, as she reappeared in her nightgown. “What happened?” she inquired. She always liked to be part of the excitement. She was a strong-willed, but thoughtful, highly intelligent child, who adored her parents, which was entirely reciprocal. For a moment, Antoine was afraid she'd be jealous. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Beata, and she nodded. She had just given him the green light to tell her.

“Your mother just gave me some very good news,” he said proudly. “You are going to have a brother or sister.” He was beaming.

“I am?” She stared at him blankly, and then looked at her mother, as they both suddenly feared that she would be jealous. She had had their full attention for so long, she might not be enchanted with the idea of a new addition, although she had frequently said that that was what she wanted. “When?”

“Two weeks after your birthday next year. You'll be eight then,” her mother answered.

“Why do we have to wait that long?” She looked disappointed. “Can't we get it sooner? Ask the doctor.”

“I'm afraid you can't rush up things like that.” Beata smiled at her. She obviously thought you ordered babies from the doctor. Beata didn't care how long it would take, she was just thrilled they were having a baby. She would be thirty herself when the baby came. And Antoine had turned forty-two that summer. But most importantly, Beata was relieved to see that Amadea looked as excited as they were.

“Did you ask for a boy or a girl?” Amadea asked intently.

“You can't order that either. We'll have to take whatever God sends. Although I do hope it's a boy for your papa,” Beata said warmly.

“Why does Papa need a boy? Girls are much better. I want a sister.”

“Well, we'll have to see what comes.” Antoine and Beata exchanged a warm look over her head and then smiled at their daughter. Antoine didn't care if it was a boy or girl, as long as it was healthy.

“It'll be a girl,” Amadea said definitely, “and she will be my baby. I'm going to do everything for her. May I?”

“It will be wonderful if you help your mama,” Antoine said gently.

“What shall we call her?” Amadea was being very practical about it.

“We'll all have to think about it,” Beata said, feeling tired but excited. She had dreamed of this for so long, and now it had finally happened when she had stopped even hoping for it. “We have to pick boy and girl names.”

“No. Just girl names. And I think it's really stupid that we have to wait so long.” Beata was nearly three months pregnant, and the baby was due in mid-April. It did seem a long time, particularly to a child of seven.

Beata's pregnancy was not quite as easy as the last one, but as the doctor pointed out, she was eight years older. She felt ill a lot of the time, and several times in the last two months, she felt as though she was going into early labor. The doctor told her to take it very easy. Antoine took wonderful care of her, predictably, and when he wasn't working, he spent as much time as possible with Amadea to relieve her mother. Beata spent most of her time knitting, and Amadea helped her. They knitted hats and booties and sweaters and blankets, and Beata made little dresses and nightgowns that could be worn by either sex, although Amadea continued to insist that she wanted a sister. She was fascinated to discover that the baby was growing in her mother's stomach, which was something she had never quite understood previously, since no one in her immediate circle had ever been pregnant. She had seen women like that before, but she just thought they were fat. Conversely, she thought that every fat woman she saw on the street now was having a baby, and Beata reminded her frequently not to ask them if that was the case.