felt as though he didn’t have the strength. But then she called out again. “Kim? Is that you?” This time he had to speak; he didn’t want her to be frightened.
“No, Deanna. It’s not.” There was silence then, and he heard something drop. He stood there, silent, immobile, waiting. But no one came. Nothing happened. No one moved. And slowly he began to walk toward the back of the house. He didn’t have far to go. A few steps and he was standing in the tiny bedroom doorway.
“Deanna?” She was standing there, one hand on a bassinet, leaning against the last unpainted wall. His eyes went to hers and he couldn’t repress a smile. “I’m sorry, I…” And then he saw, as her eyes grew wide and he saw her chin tremble. “My God, you’re… Deanna…” He didn’t want to ask her, he didn’t know what to say. When and how? And whose? And then not caring whose, he closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. That was why she was selling the paintings, why she was alone.
“It’s ours, isn’t it?” he asked. She nodded, tears spilling onto his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call?” He pulled away just enough so that he could see her face. She was smiling.
“I couldn’t. I left you. I couldn’t go back to you like that. I thought that maybe… after the baby…”
“You’re nuts, but I love you. Why after the baby? I want to be there with you, I want to… oh, Deanna,
“How the hell did you find me?” She laughed as she held him close and then sniffed. When he didn’t answer, she knew. “Kim.”
“Maybe so. Or maybe that atrocious little gallery that’s selling your work. Deanna, how could you…” His voice trailed off, and she grinned.
“I had to.”
“Not anymore.”
“We’ll see.”
“You prefer Seagull to me?” He laughed at the thought, and she vehemently shook her head.
“I’ve just managed to do it all for myself though. I’ve gotten independent. I’ve made it. Do you realize what that means?”
“It means that you’re wonderful and I adore you. Are you getting divorced?” He was holding her in his arms and gently touching her stomach. He jumped as the baby kicked. “Was that our kid?” The tears glazed his eyes again when she nodded yes.
“And yes, I’m also getting divorced. It will be final in May.”
“And the baby?”
“Will be final in April.”
“And in that case, you crazy, independent, mad woman, we will also be final in May.”
“What does that mean?” But she was laughing now and so was he.
“Just what you think. And”-he looked around the room with a quizzical air-“pack your stuff, madam, I’m taking you home.”
“Now? I haven’t finished painting the baby’s room. And-”
“And nothing, my darling. I’m taking you home.”
“Right now?” She put down her paintbrush and grinned.
“Right now.” He pulled her close to him again then and kissed her with all the longing of the past five months. “Deanna, I’ll never be without you again. Never. Do you understand?” But she only nodded, smiling, and kissed him, as his hand traveled slowly to their child.
Danielle Steel
