Julie's Butterfly (24 page)

C
HAPTER
32

After not hearing from Julie for five days, Bastian was ready to explode. He had not slept or eaten, and work was out of the question.

He was beginning to regret the way he’d lost his cool, but that didn’t change the facts. Perhaps if he had explained his objections calmly and set forth his argument reasonably, they would not have reached this impasse—even if the result would have been the same.

He could not live with the guilt if this baby turned out to be like him. How would he explain why the child’s entire life was dominated by pain and resentment? How could he look his son or daughter in the eye when they realized it was his fault? How could he bear the knowledge that he had not spared them this suffering?

He could only see one way of protecting the child.

The mere idea of it made him feel like throwing up, but he would rather spend his life not being a father than be one who had to watch helplessly from the sidelines. Besides, he had far too much of his own baggage to be able to take on the role of a devoted father and family man. It was almost a miracle that he had gotten as far as he had in a relationship, though he knew it was thanks to Julie’s patience, understanding, and devotion that it had worked at all.

They had been happy.

He sank down listlessly on his sofa and buried his face in his gloved hands. His gloves had so often brought him consolation, but in this case, they were completely powerless.

He missed Julie with a pain that overshadowed any pain he had endured before—and heaven knew he was an expert at suffering. He gazed at her photo in despair. Her dark eyes shone with life; her smile was so carefree. Even though he knew that she had not been as happy as she appeared at that moment, his portrait perfectly captured her cheerful disposition.

He loved this woman.

Although he had always known that she deserved someone better, he had allowed himself to fall in love with her irrevocably, despite all his defense mechanisms.

He picked up the picture and studied it, taking in all her features.

Those wonderful chocolate-brown eyes.

Would their child have those eyes?

And her smile?

The idea made him shudder. His heart began hammering in his chest. He had strictly forbidden himself any thoughts along these lines, but again and again, he found them lurking just beneath the surface.

It was a moment before he heard an urgent knock on his apartment door. He listened, uncertain, hopeful. The bell rang shrilly. Bastian ran to the door and tore it open.

He found himself face-to-face with Isabelle, whose flushed face contrasted eerily with her green hair. She narrowed her eyes at him angrily and stormed past him into his living room without a word.

With a mixture of disappointment and bewilderment, he followed her and looked at her quizzically.

“What did you say to her?” she snapped. He had no opportunity to reply, as she continued without a pause. “I want to know what you said to her.”

“I take it Julie told you about our conversation.”

“Wrong. She told me absolutely nothing. For five days, I’ve been going around thinking that things between you are wonderful and that you’re happily planning your family life together. She’s not answering the phone, she’s called in sick at the café, she doesn’t call me back, and there I am thinking, great, let them get on with it. It’s not as though it’s the first time she’s dropped off the face of the earth since you’ve been on the scene. Then she sends me a cryptic message that I can’t make sense of, but once again refuses to answer her stupid phone.” She gave Bastian a murderous look. “So what did you say to her?”

“I told her I don’t want the baby.”

“And how do you think that’s going to work? Is she supposed to wave a magic wand and make it disappear?” she asked. She was clearly expecting Bastian to protest. When he remained silent, her eyes widened in disgust. “Have you gone completely mad?” she yelled.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Even to his own ears it sounded pathetic.

But Isabelle appeared to agree. She gave him a penetrating stare and raised her index finger, which she wagged threateningly at him, her other hand on her hip. “You listen to me, you stupid bastard. You may be up shit creek, but this is no way to solve your problems.”

“It’s not as simple as you think,” countered Bastian through gritted teeth.

“That may be.” She paused. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re afraid of?”

“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I think.”

Isabelle waved her hands in exasperation. “Damn it, Bastian, just because there’s a chance your child might also be affected doesn’t mean it’s got no right to exist.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to live with this disorder.”

“No, I don’t, and I thank God for that. No one should have to suffer that fate,” Isabelle replied humbly, then immediately regained her composure and raged on. “However, that does not justify what you’re asking of Julie, you egotistical swine!”

“If the baby was affected, it would suffer both physically and mentally,” he said with an agonized look on his face.

“There’s absolutely no certainty that your baby is affected,” she countered vehemently. “But even if it were, the child would learn to cope just as you did. And it would find consolation in the people who love it and those who are intelligent enough to understand.”

The way Isabelle put it, it all sounded so damned simple.

Yes, he had learned to live with his wounds and eventually grown used to the pain. It was bearable, unlike some other things.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have people looking at you all the time as if you were a freak.”

“Of course I know what it’s like,” she protested. “Do you think I have no idea what people say behind my back?”

“There’s no comparison,” muttered Bastian.

Isabelle folded her arms stubbornly. “How come? Different is different.”

Bastian stared at the crazy young woman. Julie hadn’t exaggerated; Isabelle really did think it was unimportant. He’d never believed it until now. If the situation had not been so dire, he would probably have laughed and flung his arms around her neck.

His bottomless despair was penetrated by a slim ray of hope. He would always feel guilty, but perhaps he had been looking at the whole thing the wrong way. His own experience could at least be useful; if the child did turn out to be unlucky, he was in an excellent position to give advice on how to cope. He could probably offer more comfort than anyone else because he knew what it was like to go through it. He would understand the child’s limits. If he did his best, it might just be enough to protect the child.

He was not aware of the hint of a smile that stole across his face.

And he could use situations where there was no risk to encourage his child—in water, for example, hardly anything bad was likely to happen. He could teach the child to swim; they could go on vacation together and dive for fish. He could point out all the colorful underwater worlds that had fascinated him when he was little. He could buy that funny animated film with the clown fish and paint their own little aquarium on the nursery walls. There were so many possibilities.

Isabelle was right. His baby would never be as lonely as he was. The child would have friends, people who were crazy about the little person for being unique, clever, and beautiful. Like its mother.

“What if Julie can’t come to terms with it?” he asked uncertainly.

Isabelle snorted indignantly. “She’s much stronger than she looks. Or she was, before you brought her world crashing down.” She shook her head in anguish and turned away from him. “I don’t think she’ll get over this. Getting rid of your child would be the end of her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, aghast.

A bolt of sheer terror coursed up his spine. He realized he was not afraid of the future just then, but the present.

“What do you think it means?” Isabelle asked. She did not turn to look at him, but hugged herself protectively. “Now I finally understand her message. She doesn’t want to have this baby by herself. She’s at an appointment with a gynecologist in town right now.” She hesitated a moment, then continued. “Does the concept of abortion mean anything to you?”

The word echoed remorselessly in his head.

Abortion.

Julie was about to destroy their child.

Because he had asked her to.

“No!” Bastian gasped, turned, and dashed out of the apartment.

C
HAPTER
33

The building housed several private medical practices. The office of Julie’s gynecologist, Dr. Kiewski, was located on the third floor. Jo had offered to go with her, but she wanted to do this alone. The reception area was filled with potted palms and lined with shelves of books about pregnancy and advice for parents. One corner had even been turned into a children’s play area. Several doors led off to the consultation and treatment rooms. A brunette with black-framed glasses greeted her with a friendly smile.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Kiewski,” said Julie, proffering her medical card for inspection. The assistant made a few routine entries in her computer before returning Julie’s card and getting out her file.

“Please take a seat in the waiting area,” she said.

An elderly lady was leafing through a women’s magazine, and a young couple sat together across the room. She was obviously pregnant, and he had a protective arm around her as he whispered something in her ear that made her smile. Julie felt a stab of pain and looked deliberately away to hide her bitterness. It wasn’t their fault she had not been so lucky and was now sitting here alone.

She had always assumed that when she was expecting her own child, the man by her side would be one of those fathers whose chest swelled with pride. One of those who cried out during the ultrasound scan “The baby’s the spitting image of me!” even though there was nothing to see but a fuzzy blur. One of those who were moved to tears when they heard their child’s heartbeat for the first time. One of those who were overjoyed at the prospect of their baby being born.

How wrong she was.

It had taken some time for her to understand Bastian’s motives. Once she had gotten over the initial shock and given vent to her disappointment in Jo’s arms, she had done her best to pull herself back together. She tried to suppress any thoughts of Bastian to prevent herself from being dragged back down into the abyss. She had nevertheless tried to fathom the reason for the vehemence of his reaction, and she had finally found it.

“Miss Hoffmann?” A nurse stood at the entrance to the waiting area, a file in her hand. “Could you please go to room two? Dr. Kiewski will be with you in a moment.”

Julie felt increasingly nervous as she entered the consultation room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the doctor’s desk.

“Hello, Miss Hoffmann,” said Dr. Kiewski as she extended her hand. She was an unusually tall woman whose brown hair was shot through with a few strands of gray. The intellect that sparkled in her eyes was matched by an aura of empathy and kindness. Julie had been seeing her for years and liked and trusted her.

As usual, Dr. Kiewski did not take her place behind her desk but sat down in the other chair next to Julie. “What can I do for you?”

An embarrassed smile appeared on Julie’s face. “It seems I’m expecting a baby.”

Dr. Kiewski raised her eyebrows. “Have you done a test?”

“Five.”

The doctor laughed. “Well, let’s see how reliable the pharmaceutical industry is,” she said and showed Julie into a treatment room.

After examining her thoroughly, she switched on the ultrasound scanner. She pointed to a small white flickering dot in the middle of a bubble.

“There,” she said. “That’s the baby’s heart beating.”

Julie’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She sobbed—from delight, from despair.

“Congratulations!” said the doctor as she took some measurements. “You’re in your eighth week. Judging by the size of the fetus, the due date is around June 8 of next year, but you should know that very few babies stick to the schedule. Two weeks either way is perfectly normal.”

Early June. She wouldn’t be able to take her exams for that semester, which were held in mid-June.

The doctor entered some data on the ultrasound unit’s keyboard.

“Everything’s looking very good,” she said with satisfaction before rolling her chair back. “You’d better get dressed, and we’ll talk some more in my office,” she said with a wink.

Julie dressed and returned to the consultation room.

“Now then, Miss Hoffmann, as I said to you in the examination room, there are no notable indications at this stage of your pregnancy. But I have a few leaflets here that I’d like you to read before your next appointment.”

She handed Julie a pile of brochures.

“Do you have any further questions?” she asked.

She bit her lip hesitantly.

“Your anxiety is plain for all to see,” the doctor remarked. “Listen, I’ve been doing this job for a few years now. I’d like you to take this well-intended advice: don’t worry too much. Your maternal instincts will kick in. As for the rest, you’ll find a way.” Julie struggled to fight back tears at the doctor’s words. All she could do was nod.

“Is there something else?” asked Dr. Kiewski, lowering her head to catch Julie’s eye. “Come on, out with it,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“The baby’s father has a hereditary disease,” she said in a muted voice and cleared her throat.

Dr. Kiewski’s eyes immediately displayed her concern. “Do you know what it’s called?”

“Epidermolysis bullosa, but he tells me those affected are also called butterfly children.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Do you know much about it?” Julie asked.

“A little, but I’m not a dermatologist,” replied the doctor with an apologetic smile. “Does the father have any symptoms?”

“He gets blisters and wounds easily.”

“That means the hereditary disease is dominant. Assuming you’re not affected, the probability of your baby inheriting the disease is 50 percent, as far as I know.”

So there was still a chance.

“Will the baby be affected in the same way?” asked Julie quietly, her hands restlessly rolling up the leaflets she was holding.

“Some children come into the world already wounded. Others develop blisters later. You must know that there are different forms and levels of severity, but it’s safe to assume that, should the baby inherit it, the symptoms will be similar to those of the father.”

Julie swallowed in an attempt to keep her feelings under control. “He suffers quite a bit as a result of it.”

The doctor inhaled deeply, studying Julie’s forlorn expression with concern. “I’m going to be quite frank with you, Miss Hoffmann,” she said. “Whatever form the disease takes, it’s a tragedy, especially for a child. If your baby is affected, you’ll have some hard times ahead. The skin of a child is usually more delicate than that of adults. In addition to that, children have to develop their motor skills. That means a likelihood of small accidents for anyone, but the risk of injury is far greater for EB sufferers due to their fragile skin structure.”

“I understand.”

In a maternal gesture, the doctor placed her hand gently on Julie’s lap. “Am I right in assuming that this disease is basically completely irrelevant to you?”

Julie frowned anxiously.

“I don’t mean to say that you don’t care that your partner struggles with his injuries,” she said. “I’m referring solely to the effect on your everyday life together.”

“He often has wounds,” replied Julie. “But in truth, it’s hardly affected our life together.”

The doctor gave a satisfied smile. “Because your partner has learned to live with it. Just as your child will learn, if he or she is affected. So is it really important which half you’re carrying?”

The doctor was right. Whether her child was affected or not didn’t matter to her. If she decided to keep the baby, it was with all her heart. Whatever fate had in store for her, she would come to terms with it.