LovePlay (7 page)

“Then what…what do you want?” she asked.

“I want to sleep with you, of course,” he said, letting his hand wander slowly down her body until it made her leap with unexpected sensitivity. “All the time.”

“For how long?” she managed in a last grasp at sanity.

“For as long as rehearsals last,” he whispered as he bent and kissed her very slowly on the mouth. “Maybe for longer than that. Can’t we just take it one day at a time, Bett?”

“Cul, I have to know…” she began.

But his body rolled onto hers and his mouth took possession of her parted lips, and the slow, rocking motion of it ignited new fires. It was almost dawn before they eventually slept, and she hadn’t had the breath to ask any more questions.

It was just like Atlanta, only better. They were inseparable, something that David Hadison saw and reluctantly accepted. Bett was sorry for him, but too caught up in the fury of loving and being loved that she hardly noticed him for days afterward.

She and Cul went home to his apartment every night, and together in the big king-sized bed they made love in ways she’d never dreamed they could. As she grew more experienced and less inhibited, she began to notice that he wasn’t taking any precautions. One night while they were watching a late movie on television, she mentioned it to him.

“I wouldn’t mind if I got pregnant, of course, you know how much I want children,” she murmured, feeling him stiffen. “But we’re not really doing anything to prevent it.”

He seemed to take a long time to answer, and she felt the rough rise and fall of his chest under her ear.

“Yes, you’re right,” he said finally, his voice oddly strained. “Look, we’re almost through rehearsals, and I’m going to be in Hollywood for at least a month or so. You’ll be in Philadelphia with the tryout. Let’s cool it for a while.”

She drew back and gaped up at him. He hadn’t mentioned going to Hollywood, and her eyes widened with pure terror. Was he telling her that he’d tired of her, that it was over?

“Don’t look at me that way,” he said, his voice agonized. He caught her roughly against him, hurting her with the strength of the embrace. “God, don’t look at me like that. I love you!”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Then why are you walking out on me again?”

“I’m not,” he breathed. His arms tightened even more. “You know about the play. I have to go out and finish work on the screenplay. And I have casting approval. I can’t drop the project now. Besides,” he sighed, drawing back to touch her wet face gently, “you’re going to be busy yourself, getting geared up to win a Tony. Right?”

She smiled wanly. “Right.” Her eyes searched his, fearfully. “You aren’t breaking it off? I don’t think I could bear it, Cul.”

He swallowed, and his face paled. “It’s just some breathing space, that’s all,” he said softly. He smiled down at her, although his eyes were oddly dark. “I love you, Bett. Believe that, at least.”

“I do.” She snuggled close to him with a long, relieved sigh. But if she could have seen the expression on Cul’s face, she might not have felt that relief. He looked like a man being torn apart.

That was the first night he took her back to her apartment. She didn’t argue with him, his face was set and he had that unbending expression on it. Besides, perhaps he was right. When he’d spent a few late evenings watching the news and movies by himself, when he’d done without her beside him in bed to warm him in the cool night, he’d let her come back. She was sure of it.

In the meantime, dress rehearsals began. The play was ready to go out of town. Set designers were finished with the backdrops, all the props and costumes were ready to go to Philadelphia. Everything was loaded up and Cul said goodbye to Bett all too soon when she drove him to La Guardia to catch his California flight.

“Write to me,” she told him with bleak eyes as he searched her pale face.

“Of course. Darling, you’re so pale, are you all right?” he asked softly, studying her.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a virus. Janet had it, and I had supper with her a couple of nights ago, you know.”

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I doubt that,” she murmured. It was hard not to cry. She felt as if something were ending, all at once. Her eyes searched his frantically for signs that he still cared, that this wasn’t the end. But his eyes were unreadable.

“So long, darling,” he whispered, bending.

It was the most tender kiss they’d ever shared. She clung to him helplessly, needing his strength to support her. Her eyes watered with tears as his mouth softly probed hers, as his arms held her close, oblivious to passersby boarding the plane through the long ramp.

He drew back, his hands unsteady as he released her. “Be good, honey. ’Bye.”

He gave her a last, wan smile, picked up his duffel bag, and walked down the ramp without looking back.

She went to her apartment feeling like death warmed over, and promptly lost her breakfast.

The infernal virus kept hanging on, sapping her strength. She managed to get through the tryout period, but it was the longest two weeks of her life. Fortunately the play was well received, without any changes being necessary. The stage manager had phoned Cul to tell him the good news about the audience’s ecstatic reception.

“Did Cul have any message for me?” Bett asked hopefully.

He stared at her blankly. “No. I thought he’d have called you by now,” he added with a grin. “You two were pretty thick when he left, weren’t you?”

She managed a weak smile and turned away. So it was over. He’d have called or written if he’d meant what he’d said about loving her. He’d just wanted her. Now, with his appetite sated, he had no reason to continue the affair. By now there was probably someone else, some beautiful woman in Hollywood….

She sat down numbly in her dressing room. Why hadn’t she seen the danger? Why had she trusted him? Damn her stupid heart!

That night, after the last performance, she went back to her hotel room and, in desperation, phoned Cul. She’d begged his number from the stage manager. It might be a terrible lowering of her pride, but she had to hear from his lips that he no longer cared, to believe it.

He answered the phone absently, as if his mind were on other things.

“Cul?” she said in a trembling voice. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Bett,” he said coolly. “I hear the play’s going great.”

“Yes, it is.” She curled the telephone cord around her fingers. “Are you coming back for the opening in New York?”

“Afraid not, darling,” he said carelessly. “I’ve got my hands full out here.” He paused, apparently talking to someone in the room with him. “What’s that, Cherrie? No, thanks, no more for me. Sure, the towels are in the bathroom, love, go right ahead.” His voice was clear and sharp again. “Sorry, Bett, I’ve got company.”

“Yes, so I heard,” she said quietly, hanging onto the shreds of her pride. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Goodbye.”

She hung up the receiver and cried as if her heart would break. Cherrie. At least she hadn’t let him hear the torture she was feeling; she’d been very cool, very calm. Oh, God, why had she been stupid enough to trust him? Well, at least she knew the truth now, at least she’d been spared the humiliation of having him snub her in front of the cast. She got over him before, she’d do it again. Of course she would.

But she felt so weak that it was getting harder just to move around. David was worried about her, and showed it.

“Look, I’ve got a pal who just opened a medical pratice,” he said when they were safely back in New York and a day away from the opening. “Let me take you to him, okay?”

She sighed wearily. “Okay,” she agreed, resigned. “If you’ll stop worrying. I think it’s just emotional.”

“Yes, I know you do,” he muttered. “But I don’t agree.”

She went to the doctor, and sat motionless, not even breathing, when he began asking more specific questions.

Her jaw dropped. “You think I might be pregnant?” she burst out.

“Yes, I do,” he replied gently. “There, there, it’s not the end of the world. Don’t you like children?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Doctor, I’m not married,” she whispered. “I’m the leading player in a show that’s opening on Broadway tomorrow night. I am dead broke, and the man who got me this way just walked out on me. Yes, it’s the end of the world!”

He calmed her, had his nurse get her a cup of coffee, and spoke gently. “We’ll have the results of the tests tomorrow morning. We’ll know for sure then. Meanwhile, I’m giving you the name of a good obstetrician, just in case. And you’ll need to get a lot of rest and eat plenty of protein.”

She smiled wanly. “The end of the world,” she murmured, and went out into the waiting room to join David.

“What did he say?” he asked as they walked down the street.

“I’m pregnant.”

He stopped dead. “What?”

“He thinks I’m pregnant,” she repeated dully. She laughed. “Cul just said a very definite goodbye, the play’s hardly started, I have no money… Oh, David, I do have such a knack for fouling up my life. I loved him. That was my only crime, I loved him so much. Damn him!”

“You’ll have to tell him,” he said quietly. “I don’t think you’ve got a choice in the world.”

“Oh, he’ll just love knowing what I’ve done,” she grumbled. “Not that he isn’t equally to blame,” she added, remembering his careless attitude toward precautions.

“He has the right to know.”

She glanced up at him. “I’m sorry if I’ve destroyed any illusions for you,” she said, feeling oddly guilty. “I’ve loved him since I was eighteen. I couldn’t help it, David.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he said, and held her hand protectively. He studied her wan face and smiled. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll even marry you, if he won’t. How’s that? God knows, we’ll starve to death, but maybe the kid can learn to like fish and chips….”

She turned and hugged him, like a sister. “David, I love you,” she whimpered.

“None of that,” he grumbled, pushing her gently away. “I said I’d take care of you, and I will, but don’t start making passes. And in your condition! I’m shocked!”

She laughed delightedly, clinging to his hand. “Well, there’s still the one pale chance that I’m not pregnant,” she said as they walked. “I’ll just cross my fingers.”

Crossing them didn’t help. The next morning, the doctor’s nurse called to tell her the test results. She was very definitely pregnant.

Four

B
ett hung up the phone with a strange feeling of calm. Actually hearing it was different from imagining how it would feel. The sense of responsibility that came along with it forced her down into a chair, where she sat and stared blankly at the telephone.

Pregnant. Her slender hands touched her stomach lightly, protectively, and she looked down at it as if she expected to see the baby through it. She and Cul had created a human being. The thought was awesome. She caught her breath under its impact.

She’d wanted children ever since the day she met Cul, wanted them with the same wildness she’d felt with wanting him. It was, to her, such a natural part of loving that she accepted the fact of her pregnancy with quiet pride. Surely now he’d want her. Surely he wouldn’t want their child born without a name. The only thing was, how was she going to tell him?

She sat down heavily on the sofa, her hands at her stomach, wondering at the miracle of life. A tiny smile touched her mouth and she sighed. A baby. After all the years of dreaming about it, it had happened.

She wondered if Cul would be as overwhelmed as she was. He’d admitted that he loved her, and surely it was true. How could he have been so tender if he hadn’t? But in the same breath she remembered his slow withdrawal from her, the look in his eyes when she’d gotten upset about his going to California. And then, too, there was the girl he’d been talking to the last time she’d phoned him. Cherrie.

Her fingers traced an idle pattern on her now tight jeans. Cherrie. Was she a pickup, or someone he already knew? Oh, heaven, what if he’d been hungering for Cherrie and had taken Bett to bed out of frustration?

She got up and paced the floor. It had all seemed so simple earlier. She’d call Cul and tell him, and he’d be ecstatic and come rushing back home to marry her. But she was beginning to realize that it was more complicated than that.

He’d repeated over and over that he didn’t want marriage, that he didn’t want ties. Did she have the right to force him into it? If he didn’t want fatherhood, mightn’t it be better for the baby to just have the mother who wanted and loved him?

All the worrying made her tired. She crawled into bed and closed her eyes. She had a little more time that she’d begged off from Dick Hamilton, the stage manager. She’d use it to sleep. Tonight was opening night, and too much depended on her role now to blow it over concern for Cul’s reaction. She’d worry abut that later.

She woke up still worried and undecided. She dressed hurriedly and went to the theater.

“Feeling better?” Dick asked, smiling at her from his perch on a chair backstage as technicians and prop people scurried around actors getting things set.

She smiled back. Dick was bald and fiftyish, with a comforting manner. Nobody could ask for a better manager. “Much better,” she lied. “Just a bug.”

He studied her. “Feel like going on?”

“On opening night? You’ve got to be kidding!” She laughed.

“Okay, let’s get to it.”

Everyone was nervous, even David. He stopped by her dressing room, with a pair of worn green socks in hand. “Feeling okay?” he asked with smiling concern.

She grinned. “Just great, thanks.”

“Told Cul yet?”

The smile faded. “No.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be tickled pink,” he assured her. He held up his socks. “My good luck charm. I never go out on opening night without them.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Do you wash them?”

He chuckled. “Well, yes, but the sentiment’s there, all the same. What’s yours?”

She sighed, tugging a tiny sterling silver cross out of her neckline and holding it up. “My mother gave it to me when I started summer stock. I never take it off through a performance.”