Birthday Girls (42 page)

“If you’d like,” he continued, “I’ll call your mother and explain the situation.”

“You mean I can’t go home?”

“No, Maddie. The tumor needs to come out right away. I’ve scheduled you for surgery tomorrow. We’ll be moving you in a few minutes to Cedars Sinai in the city. Doctor Wilson will perform the surgery. He’s very well known …” He paused again. “We’re lucky to get him on such short notice. He’ll be in to see you later today.”

“The surgery is tomorrow?”

“It will be over before you know it.”

The first
thing Kris did after walking into her penthouse was go to the phone and call Maddie. She was ready now to share her news, though not yet ready to share it with Devon. She had yet to figure out how she was going to handle that: if she was going to tell him who the baby’s father was, or if she’d pretend it was from the in vitro.

Sophie answered the phone.

“Mrs. Kavner,” Kris said, “this is Kris Kensington. Could I speak with Maddie, please?”

At first there was no sound. Then something came through that sounded like a sob. Kris wasn’t sure what had happened.

“Mrs. Kavner?”

A moment passed. “Oh, God,” the woman finally cried.

“Mrs. Kavner, what is it? Is Maddie there?”

And then Sophie told her. Maddie was in the hospital. Maddie had to have surgery. Maddie had a brain tumor and, oh, God, she wasn’t going to die, was she?

Kris stood frozen in her living room. Her legs were numb, her thoughts jumbled. She had just had the most wonderful week of her life, a week of bliss that she’d never thought possible. She had had the most wonderful week of her life while one of the few real friends she had in the world lay … dying.

“They’ve moved her into the city. To Cedars Sinai. She doesn’t want me to come tonight … I can get there in the morning … I want to see her before …”

“I’ll go see her, Mrs. Kavner. The hospital isn’t far from me. Don’t worry, she won’t be alone.”

She glanced at her watch. She didn’t want to take the time to change clothes. But as Kris hung up she knew there were two calls she needed to make before she left.

First she called Devon. She told him she was home. She told him where she’d be.

The next call was even more brief.

“Louisa,” she said without hesitation, “you may think I’m out of my mind, and I’m sorry if you do. But I only want to say that if you have any idea if Abigail is still alive, or if you have any idea where she is, then I’d appreciate it if you let her know that Maddie Daniels has a brain tumor. She is being operated on tomorrow at Cedars Sinai. She may be dying.”

The woman said nothing for a moment, then replied, “Kris, I really can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

Abigail
stood on the porch of the inn, looking off toward Seattle, trying to calm the turmoil inside.

Maddie has a brain tumor
.

She is being operated on tomorrow
.

She may be dying
.

Abigail put her hands on the spindle railing—the freshly painted white railing that Joel had finished yesterday. A low cry came from somewhere inside her.
Maddie
, she thought.
Not Maddie
. Not one of us.

“Sarah?”

She did not turn at the sound of Joel’s voice. “I’ll be in shortly, Joel,” she said through the tears that now ran down her cheeks. She did not hear the front door close.

And then she felt an arm around her. “Sarah, what is it? Was your phone call … was it bad news?”

Abigail dropped her head and sobbed into her hands. “There’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing at all. It’s way too late.”

“I don’t want to pry, but it seems to me that it’s rarely too late to mend fences.”

“Oh, Joel, you don’t know. You don’t know how selfish I’ve been. And now an old friend is dying, and I can’t be there.”

“Of course you can. We can do without you for a few days. Besides, friends are important. We need them. And sometimes they need us.”

“But I …”

He stepped around and looked into Abigail’s eyes. “What is it, Sarah? Is it because you’re afraid that people will recognize you? That they’ll know that Abigail Hardy is not, in fact, dead?”

Just before
she rushed out the door, Kris had a thought. She raced into her bedroom and rifled through her things. Amazingly, she found what she’d been looking for. Now, as she sat in an uncomfortable chair next to Maddie’s
bed and tried not to think about what lay ahead for her friend, she pulled it from her bag.

“Look, Maddie,” she said, “I brought a little something to distract you. Something to help you smile.”

Maddie turned her head toward Kris. “The photo album.”

“Yeah. I really love that you put it together for us. Look,” she said, opening the book. “Our first birthday celebration. The frosting all over our faces, remember?”

Maddie half-smiled. “Who started that, anyway?”

“Me! You don’t think Abigail would have been so …”

“So much fun?” Maddie asked. The two women giggled. And then Maddie moaned. “Oh, God, Kris. Do you think Abigail really is dead? Do you think we’ll really never see her again …” Her voice trailed off as though she realized what she’d just said. “Do you think anyone will ever see
me
again? After tomorrow?”

A glazed look passed over her face; a deep fear surfaced in her eyes.

Kris took Maddie’s hand—copper on white—and held it a moment. Then she looked at Maddie and quietly said, “Nothing’s going to happen to you, girl. It can’t. I need you too much.”

Maddie chuckled a little, very little. “I honestly thought you never needed anyone, Kris.”

“You were wrong, girl. And you’re not going to go and desert me the way Abigail did. You have everything to live for. Hell, you’re still in your forties …”

“Barely …”

“And you have your mother, and your sons …”

Maddie closed her eyes. “I know,” she whispered, then opened them again. “I must live. I must live for them.” Then she smiled and added, “And for you, too, of course. Besides, I have big plans. I’m going to pull
Our World
right out from under that jackass of an ex-husband of mine.”

Kris’s eyebrows shot up. “Jackass?”

Maddie told her what had happened. “It’s interesting, though. The changes I’ve felt in myself. I’m thinking so much more clearly now. I even think I might ask Cody to come and work for the magazine.”

“Cody? The boy toy?”

“He’s a wonderful photographer. And a civilized, caring person. But don’t get me wrong. There will be no sex or anything. Aside from the great time he gave me, he’s a really nice person. I think he could teach Timmy a lot.”

“No sex?”

“No sex! Besides. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again.” Then she winked. “Well, not at first, anyway.”

It was good to see Maddie acting like herself again. Her old, lovable, Maddie self.

“But first,” Maddie added, “I have to put my life together the way I want.”

“Without your ex.”

“So much for wishes.”

Kris smiled. “Well … that brings me to some news myself.”

“News? What?” She leaned back on the pillow. “God, I’ve been so involved in my own problems I never even asked you how you made out in Khartoum.”

“I fell off a camel.”

Maddie laughed.

“But it worked out fine. The best part is, my baby is fine.” Kris turned the page in the photo album. “Oh, look,” she said, “here’s one of us with Betty Ann …”

“What did you say?”

“I said here’s a picture of …”

Maddie reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t play games with me, Kris. What did you say about a baby?”

Kris could no longer hold back her smile. “Oh, girl, it’s really happening. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, shit,” Maddie said, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Really? You? A baby?”

Kris nodded, then nodded again.

“I thought the in vitro didn’t …” Her eyes grew wide. Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God, Kris. Don’t tell me that Edmund … that the baby …”

“Afraid so. Kris Kensington is going to have Abigail Hardy’s husband’s baby. How’s that for a mouthful?”

“He’s not her husband, Kris. He’s her … widower.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe not.”

Silence fluttered in the room.

“Kris?” Maddie began, but Kris quickly raised her hand.

“No. Don’t even think about it.”

“You’re not going to tell him?”

“I don’t think so, Maddie. He’s trying to put his life back together. He has Sondra now. And her baby. They’ve been through so much …”

“But this baby is his, Kris.”

Kris stood up and went to the window. “It’s my baby, Maddie.”

“Kris, you must tell him.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think he’d care to know. I slept with him a few times. Even though I’d stopped taking the pill before I went to L.A., I never dreamed this would happen. I really thought it was too late. But it’s not. It’s my dream come true, Maddie. My dream. Not Edmund’s. I can’t screw up his life any more than it already is.”

Kris turned around and faced the bed. “Besides. There’s one thing you’re forgetting. I’m not sure how Edmund would feel about having a child who was part black.”

Silence hung in the room.

“I never thought it bothered you,” Maddie said, “being half black.”

“Yeah, well …” Kris paused and lifted her head. That’s
when Maddie saw her tears. “Maybe I’m just now realizing that it’s really okay. That I am who I am and that’s all that matters.” She lowered her head. “And maybe I’m more than a little ashamed that it’s taken me so long to finally get comfortable with it.”

“But Edmund …”

She raised her hand again. “No buts. Enough said.” She whisked her tears away. “And right now I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in about ten hours, and I’m going to raid the cafeteria. Can I smuggle something up for you?”

Maddie shook her head. “No eating or drinking after eight o’clock.”

Kris checked her watch. Eight-thirty. She looked back at Maddie, as if remembering why she was here, why they were both here. “Look at the album while I’m gone. They say laughter is a great healing tool.”

Maddie
waited a full sixty seconds after the door closed behind Kris before she reached across the bed and picked up the telephone. No matter what Kris said, Maddie had learned in these past few days that life was just too damn short to play games.

Devon
stepped into the elevator just as Kris was getting off.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

“You said you’d be here all night. I thought you’d like some company.” It had been weeks since he’d seen her. Too many weeks. And Devon knew Kris well enough to know she needed him at last. She never would have called if she hadn’t.

“I’m headed for the cafeteria,” she said. “Care to join me?”

He knew he was right. By the sound of her voice and the lilt in her eyes, Devon knew that something was up.

In his wildest, most bizarre dreams—and God knew he’d had enough of them when it came to Kris—he would never have imagined the news that she broke over Diet Cokes and ham sandwiches at a formica table in a hospital cafeteria.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, so matter-of-factly she could have said it was spring and weren’t the daffodils in Central Park especially pretty this year.

A small piece of ham lodged in his throat. He gasped for breath. He tried to speak. “What?” The word came out in a crack. He gulped some soda; the chunk of ham slid down.

“It’s Edmund’s baby, Devon. I thought about lying to you and saying it’s from the in vitro. But it’s not. This is Edmund’s baby. Edmund’s and mine.”

Looking at his plate, Devon reached for his sandwich again. He did not want Kris to see his hands tremble or see the pain that had sprung to his eyes. “Well,” he said, “this is interesting. What are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to ask if you and Claire would be godparents.”

In spite of himself, Devon felt tears well. He dropped the sandwich. “Oh, God, Kris.” He took her hand in his, her creamy-bronze hand inside his large black one. “What about Edmund? What are you going to tell him?”

“Nothing”

“Nothing?”

“Devon, I don’t know if you’ll understand. But there was something special between Edmund and me. I don’t want to ruin that memory. He has given me the one gift I wanted. I don’t want to ruin his memory, and I certainly don’t want to ruin his life.” She paused. “And don’t forget that this child—his child—will have African blood.”

“But it’s a white man’s child, too.”

“I hate to admit it, but once I thought that was important, that a white man’s child would fare better in the world than a black. I guess that’s because I had a load of insecurities about being part black that I never acknowledged.”

He studied her fingers, unable to meet her eyes. “Do you love Edmund?”

She hesitated. “Very much.”

“Then call me a romantic, but I think your child will fare well because he was conceived in love.”

“Like your kids. And Claire’s.”

He withdrew his hand. “Yes,” he said. He thought of their laughter, he thought of their love. Then he thought of Claire and realized he meant it. He did love his family, he did love his wife. “Well,” he added with a smile, “the jury’s still out on Jarrod.”

Together, they laughed.

Then he thought of another part of the problem. He picked up his sandwich and carefully added, “But perhaps it is best that Edmund not know. He may not share your feelings.”

But Devon had other reasons for thinking it was all for the best. If Kris had said she wanted to marry Edmund, he would be forced to tell her about Mo Gilbert—that Devon had been pacing him all these months to track down Abigail, that he’d found her through phone records from Phoenix to Seattle, and that Abigail Hardy was alive and well.

He looked back to her now, studied her face, saw her joy. Then he faked a smile. “Honey,” he said with sincerity he knew would grow genuine at some point in time, when his loss was put to bed once and for all, “I’m very happy for you. And I can’t speak for Claire—women’s rights, you know—but I sure can speak for myself when I say I will be proud to be your baby’s godfather.”