Be My Baby Tonight (17 page)

“Did you... you know, use birth control?”

Suzanna felt her cheeks growing hot. “That’s
another reason I want him dead. He says he thought I was on the
pill.”

“You weren’t?”

“No. Why should I be on the pill?”

Keely shrugged. “I don’t know. Some women use
it to regulate their periods.”

“I used to, years ago. But I decided I’d been
on them long enough, and stopped them. I’m not real big on taking
pills. My mom was on hormone replacement, and she swore that’s how
she developed some pretty scary problems after menopause. Who
knows? But I stopped my pills when she told me.”

“And Tim didn’t use anything?”

Suzanna shook her head, trying not to blush.
“Not even after we figured out what he thought. Me? I just thought
he didn’t care if we had a baby right away. You and Jack are, and
you’ve already got Candy. I thought he thought it was okay.”

Keely propped an elbow on the table and
leaned her chin on her hand. “Don’t talk much, you two, do
you?”

Suzanna readjusted her dark glasses. “We...
We’ve been busy. Either he’s out of town, or I’m out of town, and
when we’re... together, well, we’re just together.”

“In bed. Yes, Mrs. B. was over one day
visiting Aunt Sadie. She told us.”

Suzanna reached into her pocket and pulled
out a wad of tissues. “It was like one long honeymoon, Keely. More
than a honeymoon. Like we were these secret lovers, who could meet
only once in a while. We just wanted to be together. It was... It
was romantic.”

“And fruitful,” Keely said, as Candy’s
chirping voice came through the intercom. “Come on, let’s go get
Little Miss Sunshine, and I’ll see if I still have a pregnancy test
left in the linen closet. I sent Jack out for one when I was late,
and I swear he came back with half a dozen.”

“I...” Suzanna said, getting up. “I’m not
sure I want to know. Not yet.”

Keely grinned at her. “I know, sweetheart.
But there’s one thing that’s been true since the beginning of time.
There’s no such thing as being just a little bit pregnant. Sooner
or later, everyone’s going to know. Even Tim. Especially Tim.”

“Oh, God,” Suzanna said, following Keely up
the stairs.

“But you don’t start looking like you
swallowed a basketball, the way I do, for a while. We can delay
this a little bit, Suzanna, if you don’t mind me butting in?”

“Butt away, Keely. I’m open to any
suggestions.”

“Good. I say you stay here tonight, in one of
the guest rooms. Not that we won’t tell Tim where you are, because
I know he’ll worry, and there is that party here for Aunt Sadie
tomorrow night. You can see him then. But you can’t be lying awake
all night tonight, wondering if he’s going to be coming home,
bothering you. Or are you ready to see him?”

“I can’t see him. Not yet. My mind’s gone to
mush. He lied to me. I could be pregnant. And when the pitcher
throws the baby at him he yells,
‘No, no!’
I’m not sure I
can tell him, not ever.”

Keely turned around, put her hands on
Suzanna’s shoulders. “I’ll hide you out, keep Tim away until the
party tomorrow, but I won’t be a party to that one, Suzanna. He has
to know. He has a right to know, even if I don’t blame you for
wanting to keep the news from him. What I’m saying is, you could
delay it a little, until you know what
you
want.”

“I... I want him to love me, Keely. That’s
all I’ve ever wanted. Even when I want to strangle the jerk, I want
him to love me.”

“And not just say so because you’re carrying
his baby? Is that what you’re thinking? You think he’d say he loves
you, even if he doesn’t, because of the baby?”

Suzanna bit her lip, nodded.

“Okay. I understand, and believe me when I
say I sympathize. Hear that little girl in there? There was a time
I didn’t know if Jack wanted me because he loved me, wanted to make
a family with me, or if I was just a convenient body here to take
care of Candy. You have to be sure.”

“I do.”

“And
I
had to be sure. I love Candy so
much. How could I know if I loved Jack, or if I was just seeing
some romantic notion of happy families?”

“How did you finally figure it out? That you
two really loved each other?”

Keely smiled, a sort of dreamy smile. “Oh,
when you know, you know. I can’t explain it any better than that.
But you’ll know when you know. Trust me.”

Then she grinned. “But, in the meantime,
let’s not put the cart before the horse, okay? We’ll see if I still
have one of those pregnancy tests somewhere around here, and then
if you really are pregnant, we’ll devise a few tortures for one Mr.
Tim Trehan. Marry someone because he’s superstitious? Does he
really believe that’s why he married you? What a jerk!”

* * *

It was midnight Saturday night. Tim sat
sprawled in the big leather chair in the living room of his
Philadelphia apartment, glaring at the telephone.

How could she do this to him?

He’d called a dozen times and gotten the
machine every time.

He’d called Mrs. B., who had told him
(sounding entirely too happy) that Suzanna had driven away early
that morning, right after he’d gone as a matter of fact. No, she
hadn’t come back. No, she hadn’t taken Margo with her. No, Mrs. B.
hadn’t seen any luggage. But, then, she’d been out shopping most of
the day.

“Don’t tell me you’ve misplaced your
wife.”

“She’s mad at me, Mrs. B.”

“That so?” The woman still sounded cheerful,
which just proved what Tim had always suspected: Suzanna had been
the teacher’s pet.

“What stupid male thing did you do, Tim? Or
did you tell her about Margo?”

“Not yet, no.”

“No? Why not? You’ve got to tell her, Tim,
before she figures it out on her own. Remember, there’s no such
thing as being a little bit pregnant,” Mrs. B. had scolded with a
positively evil laugh, and he’d invented an excuse to hang up.

Margo. Man, that cat had seemed like such a
big problem only a few days ago. Now it didn’t matter. Suzanna
already hated him.

As a matter of fact, this might be a good
time to tell her about the cat, about Lucky. Get it all over with
at once.

Over? Was it over? Cripes, they had barely
begun.

Tim lifted the can of beer to his mouth, then
made a face when he realized the nearly full can had gone warm.
What a mess he was. He couldn’t even get drunk, drown his
sorrows.

The Phillies had lost. Big time. Sixteen to
two, a real laugher—for the Mets that is. And he’d gone hitless,
striking out with the bases loaded in front of the home crowd. A
few more poor showings like tonight’s, and the infamous
Philadelphia Boo-birds would be after him.

Hell, if he didn’t figure out some way to get
back in Suzanna’s good graces, get his mind back in the game, he
could end up like Phillies Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt, who had gone
through such a bad slump one year that he’d actually run out onto
the field one day with a wig and fake mustache on, pretending that
the booing crowd wouldn’t recognize him that way.

Wouldn’t that be just great. Real
great....

It was Suzanna’s fault. Oh, yeah, definitely
Suzanna’s fault. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of minutes on
that damn couch last night, he was going nuts, she didn’t answer
the phone, and he didn’t know where she was, how she was, if she
had moved out on him, left him.

How could she leave him?

“Divorce,” he said, glaring at the television
screen and ESPN’s nightly baseball wrap-up. Just what he didn’t
need right now, a recap of the game that had dropped them a full
game behind the once more first-place Mets. He picked up the
remote, switched off the set.

“She didn’t mean that,” he said, trying to
convince himself. “Suze has a temper. Mrs. B. said so, and I know
so. And she has a right to be mad, definitely. Totally pissed. But
I was going to tell her. One day. We were going to laugh about it.
One day.”

He knew what it was; it was Lucky’s fault.
He’d been so worried about telling Suzanna how that sex-crazed cat
had knocked up her pedigree Persian, that he’d not thought enough
about what could happen if Suzanna ever found out why he married
her.

But damn it, it wasn’t why he
stayed
married to her. He liked her. God, how he liked her, cared for her,
enjoyed being with her. That wide smile of hers. The way she seemed
to know him better than he knew himself, anticipated his every
need. In bed and out of it.

And, oh, they were good together. They
laughed at the same jokes, shared the same history. She knew his
foibles and liked him anyway.

Loved him anyway.

“That’s it,” Tim said, getting up from the
chair and heading for the kitchen and a can of soda. “That’s the
big one,” he said, sighing. “She loves me.”

He knew that. He’d always known that.
Depended on it. Good old Suze.

Of course she married him when he’d asked.
She loved him.

And he’d taken advantage of her.

But it got worse. When she found out, when
Dusty told her what he should have told her himself, months ago,
then Tim had said he liked her; she was his best friend.

He liked her.

Gee, that must have made it all better; he
liked
her. And the sex was good.

Why couldn’t he have told her he loved her?
Why had the words stuck in his throat?

Because she wouldn’t have believed him. Why
should she? He didn’t quite believe it himself.

He just knew that Suzanna was in his life,
should never have been out of it, and he’d have no life at all if
she left him again.

Was that love? It could be love.

It
was
love. Damn it, he loved his
wife! He was in love with good old Suze.

“And if I tell her that, she’d have every
right to tell me to go to hell. I can’t tell her. I’ve got to
show
her.”

He collapsed back in his chair and stared at
the dark television screen. Okay, how was he going to show her? He
didn’t even know where she was.

But he’d find her. She couldn’t hide; he’d
find her. He’d find her and he’d tell her, and she’d take him back.
Maybe not right away, but after a while, once he’d proved that he
was sorry for what he’d done, how he’d deceived her in order to
help himself.

He’d show her he loved her. Some way,
somehow.

And, somewhere in there, he was pretty sure
he’d have to tell her about Margo, too.

“God. Someone ought to do a public service
and just shoot me,” he said, slipping low in his chair.

The more self-centered and egotistical a guy is,
the

better ballplayer he’s going to be.

— Bill “Spaceman” Lee, pitcher

“So? What is it?”

Keely’s questioning voice came to Suzanna
through the bathroom door.

Suzanna sighed, called out an answer: “I
didn’t look yet.”

“You didn’t—oh, for crying out loud, Suzanna,
let me in there.”

“No! That is, just a sec, okay? I’m building
up my courage.”

The handle turned, and Keely walked into the
bathroom. “You’ve been building up your courage since yesterday
morning. It is now almost noon on Sunday. Rome was built quicker.
Tim knows where you are now, thanks to my big-mouthed husband, and
he knows you’ll be here tonight for the party. So look. We’ve
waited long enough.”

“
We’ve
waited long enough?” Suzanna
held tight to the pregnancy kit. “You’re already pregnant. You have
no surprises left. You even know you’re having a boy.”

“The marvels of modern science. Now pull that
thing open, twist it, bend it, say the magic words over it,
whatever you have to do with it, and let’s see the results.”

“Jack told me you were pushy,” Suzanna said,
grimacing. “But he said he likes that.”

“You’ll learn to love it, trust me,” Keely
said with a laugh. “Now, let’s see what you’re supposed to see,”
she added, picking up the empty box. “Okay, it’s a plus for
pregnant, a minus sign for not pregnant. Not exactly rocket
science. We can do this.”

Suzanna sighed. This was silly. She either
was or she wasn’t. Waiting certainly wasn’t going to change
anything; fervent prayers to the fertility gods weren’t going to
change anything.

She turned the white stick over, looked at
it, practically had to push Keely’s blond head out of the way to
look at it.

“And we have a winner!” Keely said, grabbing
a numb Suzanna in a crushing hug. “Oh, how wonderful! Our babies
can play together.”

Suzanna put a hand to her stomach. “I think
I’m going to be sick.”

“No, you’re not. You weren’t feeling sick a
minute ago, so you can’t feel sick now. That’s psychological. Trust
me, there will be days when it’s not, but right now it is. Still,
let’s get out of this bathroom and sit in the kitchen. I’ll make
you some soup.”

“I don’t want soup,” Suzanna said as they
entered the kitchen, feeling mulish. “I want to go to Philadelphia
and murder Tim.”

Keely stepped away from the pantry, holding a
can of chicken noodle soup. “Oh, I’m sorry, Suzanna. You’re really
upset? I guess I think babies are such wonderful news that I just
went a little nutso. You don’t want the baby?”

Suzanna sat down at the kitchen table. “Want
the baby? Of course I want the baby. I want a dozen babies. It’s
the timing that’s so terrible. I just don’t want Tim to say he
wants me because I’m having his baby, or say that he wants the baby
because I just happen to be having his baby, or that he—no, I think
that’s it.”

She leaned her elbows on the table and
sighed. “I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

“Certainly enough for now,” Keely said,
opening the can and dumping the contents into a microwave-safe
container. “Will you tell him tonight?”

Suzanna blinked back tears. “I don’t think
so. He’s probably angry with me by now, you know.”