Summer’s End

“Most unexciting. I hope the baby has better taste.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He was back a few minutes later, with crackers for her and a sandwich for himself.

“No strawberries, no pizza, no tacos?”

It was the first time he had seen her sense of humor in months. But she had had a pleasant day. After her visit to the doctor, she had gone to lunch with Kim. Kim was helping her to keep her sanity, in these strange, lonely days. And Deanna could tell her how much she missed Ben. She was still waiting for the hurt of that to stop. So far, though, it had shown no sign of abating.

Marc was about to offer her a bite of his sandwich, when the phone next to her rang. “Want me to get it? It’s probably for you.”

“At this hour?” He looked at his watch, then nodded. It was eight in the morning in Europe. It was very probably for him. He sat down on the bed again, next to his wife. He hadn’t seen her this friendly in weeks. He smiled at her once more and picked up the phone. “Hello?” There was the usual whir of lines from overseas, and he waited to hear which of his clients was in dire need.

“Marc-Edouard?” It was a voice frantic with desperation, and he felt himself grow suddenly pale. Chantal. Deanna saw his back stiffen slightly, and he turned away from her with a frown.

“Yes? What is it?” He had spoken to her only that morning. Why was she calling him at home? He had already promised her that he would be back in Europe within the next few weeks. He was sure he could get away from Deanna just after Thanksgiving. By then, he would have paid his dues. Two and a half months at her side, in the States. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” She let out a long strangled sob, and he felt fear flit through his heart. “I’m-I’m in the hospital again.”

“Ah, merde.” He closed his eyes, and Deanna watched him frown. “Why this time? The same thing?”

“No. I got my insulin mixed up.”

“You never mix it up.” Except on purpose, he thought, remembering the night in the hospital and the panic he’d felt. “After all these years, surely you must know…” Shit. It was so awkward sitting there, talking to her, with Deanna looking on. “But you’re all right?”

“I don’t know.” And then after a pause, “Oh, Marc-Edouard, I need you. Can’t you please come home?” Damn. How could he discuss it with her here?

“I don’t have the right papers here to apprise you of that situation. Can we discuss it tomorrow from my office?” He picked up the phone and walked across the room to a chair. Deanna had gone back to reading her book. The conversation sounded dull, and Marc looked annoyed.

But Marc was finding the exchange anything but dull. Chantal had given a small shriek at his suggestion of discussing it from his office the next day.

“No! You can’t keep putting me off!”

“I’m not putting you off. I simply don’t know when I can.”

“Then let me come to you. You promised before you left that if you couldn’t get away, I could come there. Why can’t I?”

“I’ll have to discuss it with you tomorrow, when I have the files. Can you wait ten hours and I’ll call you back?” There was steel in his voice now. “Where can I reach you?” She gave him the name of a private clinic, and he was grateful that this time at least she was not at the American Hospital, he couldn’t have borne having to call her there. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I reach the office.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just get on the next plane.”

She was behaving like a spoiled child. And a dangerous one. He didn’t want any more trouble with Deanna. Not until after the child. Then they would just have to see. But because of his own nationality the child would be legally French, as well as American. And when in France it was under French jurisdiction. It would be his. If he chose to take his child into France, there would be nothing Deanna could do to get him out. Nothing. The thought of that would keep him afloat for the next seven months. When the baby was a month old, they’d take him to France to see his grandmother for the first time. Deanna would come of course, but then she could make her own choice. She could go or stay. But the baby would not leave the country again. If necessary, he would live with Marc’s mother, and Marc would see to it that he spent more of his time there. That baby was his… as Pilar should have been totally- would have been if it hadn’t been for Deanna. The thought of the new baby kept his mind off Pilar. This was going to be entirely his child. In the meantime he needed Deanna. He needed her healthy and happy until she delivered the child. And afterward, he would be perfectly happy to stay married to her-if she wanted to stay with the baby in France. He had it all worked out-all of it. And now was not the time for Chantal to rock the boat.

“Marc-Edouard? Did you hear me? I said that if you didn’t come over, I’d just get on the next plane.”

“To where?” His tone was icy.

“San Francisco of course. Where do you think?”

“Let me make that decision. And I’ll let you know. Tomorrow. Understood?”

“D’accord. And Marc-Edouard?”

“Yes?” He softened a little at the sound of her voice.

“I love you so much.”

“I’m absolutely certain that is a reciprocal agreement. ” For a moment he almost smiled. “I’ll talk to you in a few hours. Good night.”

Marc put the phone down with a sigh. He didn’t notice that Deanna was watching.

“Disgruntled clients?”

“Nothing I can’t work out.”

“Is there anything you can’t work out?”

He smiled, watching her eyes. “I hope not, my dear. I sincerely hope not.”

He was in bed half an hour later; Deanna lay awake at his side.

“Marc?”

“Yes?” The room was dark.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not. What would be wrong?”

“I don’t know. That call… should you be traveling more than you are?” But she knew the answer to that question.

“Yes. But I can manage as things are. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’d be fine.”

“Probably. But as long as I don’t have to go anywhere, I won’t.”

“I appreciate it.”

It was the first kind thought she’d had of him in months, and he closed his eyes for a moment as she touched the back of his hand. He wanted to take her hand, to hold it, to kiss her, to call her Ma Diane, but he couldn’t anymore. Not anymore. Not now. Already, thoughts of Chantal were crowding his mind.

“Don’t worry, Deanna. Everything will be all right.” He patted her hand and turned his back to her on the very far side of the bed.

* * *

“What kind of madness is that, calling me at home in the middle of the night?” Marc-Edouard’s voice raged at her over a continent and an ocean. “What if she had answered the phone?”

“So what dammit, she knows!”

No. She knew. Past tense, not present. “I don’t give a damn what she knows, you have no right to do that, I’ve told you not to.”

“I have a right to do whatever I want.” But her voice wavered. Suddenly she was crying in his ear. “I can’t, Marc-Edouard. I can’t go on. Please, it’s been more than two months.”

“It’s been exactly two days more than two months.” But he was stalling. He knew that if he was not to lose her, something had to be done. It was going to be a difficult winter, running between them both.