Makin' Whoopee (18 page)

She pulled away from him and walked to the fireplace. Sitting down on the sleeping bag, she stared blindly into the dying flames. She heard Charlie leave the room without really taking the fact in.

This was crazy, she told herself. The baby had been with them for only a short time. Why was she so upset? It had been totally unrealistic for her to think she could keep it. But unrealistic or not, for a wild moment she had thought it was possible.

She closed her eyes, fighting the numbness that was invading her mind. She should have known it wouldn't work. What did she know about taking care of a baby? It would have disrupted everything. But right now logic didn't help. She cursed herself for having gotten carried away, because now she was paying for it.

It was over an hour later when Charlie came back into the room. He sat on the floor beside her and held one of her hands in his. "Okay, you've had enough time for brooding. Let's talk about it."

She smiled. "What is there to say?"

"Plenty," he said firmly. "First of all, tell me why this baby was so important. We didn't even have her for forty-eight hours. Why did she make such an impact on you?"

Sara glanced at him. "Don't give me that," she said dully. "You know well and good you fell for her too."

"Sure, I did. Why shouldn't I? I've never met a kid I didn't like. But you—" He kissed the palm of her hand. "You've always said you didn't want children. In fact I had the distinct impression you didn't even like them."

She stared down at her hand in his. "Oh, I like them, all right. I just didn't think ... I was sure that kind of thing wouldn't work out for me."

"Now we're getting somewhere." There was satisfaction in his voice. "Why didn't you think having a family would work out for you?"

She drew in a deep breath. "Because my career is too important to me."

"Wait a minute," he said, staring at her in confusion. "How did we get from babies to your career?"

"Oh, Charlie, don't you see?" The old feeling of inadequacy flooded over her. "No, of course you don't. How could you? It all comes so easy for you."

"Sara," he said gently, "I'm trying to understand. I can see that this—this thing is eating at you, but I can't make any sense of it."

She shook her head. She had never had to put her fears into words before. They were all jumbled up in her mind in a way that didn't even make sense to her. How could she expect Charlie to understand?

"Okay," he said. "Let's tackle one thing at a time. You said everything comes easily to me. What did you mean by that? Is there something about the business that's worrying you?"

"Something?" She laughed helplessly. "Everything. For two years I've had to work myself ragged trying to keep up with you. If you hadn't been there pushing me and holding me up, my side of the business would have gone down the drain."

He stared at her wide-eyed, as though he were seeing her for the first time. "I don't believe this. This is not you, Sara. You're the most confident person I know. Where did this come from?"

"Confident?" She pushed away from him and stood up. "Lord, that's a laugh." She began to pace. "Every single day I'm scared, terrified that this will be the day I finally bomb out." She clenched her hands into fists. "Everyone thinks I'm Ms. Businesswoman of the Year—remember the award they gave me last year? I wonder what they would think if they knew I've been faking it. The whole thing is a giant joke. I've been pretending, Charlie. All this time I've been pretending."

He stood slowly, a stunned look on his strong face. "That's why you fought me on diversification," he said carefully. "Because you thought we would lose everything." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't understand, Sara. Where did all this come from? When did it start? It couldn't have been your parents. You always told me they thought you were brilliant."

" 'Thought' is the operative word," she said tightly. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "Nothing I did was ever enough for them. When I brought home a report card, they never saw the A's. They would look at the B's and shake their heads and say, 'You can do better than that, Sara. You must not be trying hard enough.' "

She swung around to face him. "But I was trying, Charlie. I studied longer and harder than any student I knew. I simply couldn't do better. They wouldn't listen when I told them I was doing my best." She shook her head to displace the memory, then sank into a chair. "That doesn't matter. I haven't been carrying a grudge against my parents all these years. I know they loved me and only wanted what was best for me. I'm just trying to make you understand that this is the same thing. I'm constantly having to pretend that I'm better than I really am."

He inhaled slowly, then walked toward her. "You're wrong, Sara, but I don't know how to convince you. In the first place, you're all mixed up about why you've succeeded in business. I've seen you fighting twice as hard as necessary. When you have all the facts you need to make a sale, you run around getting more. You know everything you need to know about real estate, but you're constantly updating, constantly gathering unnecessary facts and figures."

He knelt beside her. His voice was intense. "I always assumed you were a perfectionist. But that's not it, is it? You've worked ten times too hard because you thought you needed to to keep from failing."

"But it was necessary." Her nails were digging into her palms. "I know what failure is all about, Charlie. In fact you might say we're intimate friends. I can look back on a list of failures that would boggle your mind."

"Everyone has failures," he said urgently. "Everyone. But have you ever once stopped to look at the successes? Because they're there, Sara. Hell, just since I've known you, you've had more than your share. I'm sure there must have been a lot before I met you." She shook her head helplessly. "You're simply being stubborn," he said in frustration. "Listen to me. You're wrong about the part I've played in the success of the business. You would have done just as well on your own. I don't suppose you can see it, but if I hadn't been there you would have come up with another reason for your accomplishments. Everything except the real reason—you're one damn sharp lady. You got where you are under your own power, Sara. And when you say you've been fooling everyone, you're wrong. Not only are you wrong, but you're doing me and a lot of other intelligent people a big injustice."

She heard the words; she even vaguely understood the idea. But it was all coming at her too quickly. You couldn't wipe out the ideas and feelings of a lifetime in just a few minutes. Suddenly she felt Charlie stiffen and back away from the chair.

"Wait a minute," he whispered harshly. "I've been a little dense, haven't I? As crazy as it would sound to any sane person, this is what it's all about."

She stared at him in surprise. He looked angry, even angrier than the night he had found her with Ted.

"This is why you don't want marriage or a family," he said. "Simply because you think every success you've ever had is a damned fluke!"

"Don't say it that way," she said, rising awkwardly. "You don't understand. You've painted some kind of shining picture of me, and I've tried to live up to it, but marriage and children . . . Don't you see? That would be a failure I coudn't take."

"You're damned right I don't understand," he said harshly. "I told you once I don't have martyr's blood in me. You would throw away everything—everything that means anything. And all because you're too scared to take a chance."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What am I throwing away?"

He threw back his head. His eyes closed and his nostrils flared, as though she had struck him. "You really don't know, do you?" His voice was hoarse and tight. "I'm good ole Charlie . . . only for fun, isn't that right? And if I ever hinted that I might be serious, that I just might feel that way about you, you ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction." He opened his eyes and stared at her. "That's why you latched on to Alston. You knew you couldn't fail with him because he expected nothing from you." He laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "My Lord, I couldn't win. I've been beating my brains out, trying to find a way to get through to you, without ever knowing that I had lost before I even started. It was always, 'Grow up, Charlie. Be serious, Charlie.' But it scared the hell out of you to see me sober. You couldn't accept the side of me that wanted to enjoy life, but you refused to see the other side of me either."

Standing up straighter, he looked directly at her. With deepening pain she saw that there was no emotion in his eyes at all.

"You think you're a loser?" he said quietly. "Well, you're right. You want a baby without the challenge of marriage and you want a lover without the commitment of love."

He turned away and walked to the front door. When his hand was on the knob, he paused, but didn't look back at her. "Count me out, Sara. I don't work that way. Forget the partnership. Forget our friendship. Forget everything."

She took a faltering step toward him. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He had misunderstood everything.

"You can't mean it," she whispered. "You wouldn't really just walk out."

He sagged slightly, and she wondered desperately what words she should have used, what things she could have said to keep him there.

"Watch me," he said hoarsely, and then Charlie was gone.

Sara stood as though turned to stone until she heard his car gunning through the snow. Then she realized there were tears on her face. She stumbled toward a chair, but instead slumped down on the rumpled sleeping bag, clutching a pillow to her breasts as she rocked back and forth.

She had thought she felt empty when the baby had left, but that pain was nothing compared to what she experienced now.
No more Charlie,
she repeated over and over as the silent, endless tears fell.
Oh, God, how could she live with no more Charlie in her life?