“How about a walk on the beach, love?”
“I don't feel like it, Mel. I'd really like to be alone. Why don't you join the children?” She wanted to snap at him that it was their honeymoon, not the children's, but she decided that it was wisest to say nothing at all. Maybe he would snap out of it quicker. So she left him.
But as the days rolled on, he didn't seem to improve. She went shopping in town with Pam and the twins and they bought beautiful embroidered blouses and dresses to wear in L.A. at the pool, and Mark took Matthew fishing twice. She took everyone except Matt to Carlos O'Brien's for Cokes and people-watching several times and she even took the older ones to a disco one night, but Peter never joined them at all. He was obsessed with what had happened to Marie, and several times a day he would spend an hour in the room trying to get a line to L.A. to check on his current patients.
“It really wasn't worth coming, for you to sit in your room all week long, calling Center City,” Mel finally snapped at him toward the end of their stay, but he only looked at her with empty eyes.
“I told you that at home, but you didn't want to disappoint the children.”
“This is our honeymoon, not theirs.” She had finally said it. She was bitterly disappointed. He had made no effort all week, and they hadn't even made love since Marie had died. A honeymoon to remember it was not.
“I'm sorry, Mel. It was just rotten timing. I'll make it up to you later.” But she wondered if he ever could. And suddenly she realized that she didn't even have her own home to return to when the trip was over. She suddenly missed the house in New York more than ever, and thinking of it reminded her of the photographs of Anne she wanted to put away when they returned. And she wondered what Peter would do with her portrait. It was her house now too, and she didn't want to look at Anne every time she turned around. That seemed normal, at least to Mel, but she wasn't going to broach the subject until they returned to Los Angeles. She still called it L.A. whenever she spoke of it, and never home, because it wasn't home yet. New York was. She noticed that with the twins too; when they were at Carlos O'Brien's, some boys asked Jessica where they were from and she answered “New York” without thinking and then Mark teased her and she explained that they had just moved to L.A. But other adjustments came more quickly. Mel noticed that they referred to each other as brothers and sisters, except for Mark and Val, who had reason not to adopt those titles.
And the only one to get sick was Valerie, on the last day. She bought an ice cream on the beach, and when Mel heard what she'd done she groaned as she stood by Val, while she threw up for hours and then had diarrhea all night. Peter wanted to give her something but she absolutely refused to take it, and when Mel finally came to bed at four in the morning, he awoke, his medical instincts alert.
“How is she?”
“Asleep at last. Poor child. I've never seen anyone so sick. I don't know why she wouldn't take the Lomotil you offered her, she isn't usually that stubborn.”
“Mel, is she all right?” He was frowning and thinking of something.
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know. I don't know her that well. But she looks different than she did in Aspen, and at Thanksgiving.”
“Different how?”
“I'm not sure what I mean, to tell you the truth. Just a feeling. Has she had a checkup lately?”
“You're making me nervous. What are you suspecting?” She expected nothing less than the threat of leukemia, but he shook his head.
“Anemia maybe. She seems to sleep a lot, and Pam says she threw up after Christmas dinner.”
Mel sighed. “I think it's nerves. Jess looks lousy to me too. I think the move was a big change for them, and they're at a tough age for that. But maybe you're right. I'll take them both to the doctor when we get back.”
“I'll give you the name of the internist we use. But don't worry about it.” He kissed her for the first time in days. “I don't think it's serious, and I think you may be right. Girls at that age tend to nervous upsets. It's just that ever since Pam had anorexia last year, my antennae go up every time something seems off to me. It's probably nothing.”
But in Pam's room, Mark was sitting beside her bed. He had waited for hours for Mel to leave, and Val was awake now, and terribly weak from her bout with tourista. She was crying softly and Mark was stroking her hair, as they both whispered so as not to wake Jessie or Pam.
“Do you think it'll hurt the baby?” Val whispered to Mark, and he looked at her miserably. She had found out two days after she arrived from New York. He had taken her for a pregnancy test. And they both knew when it had happened. When they finally made love for the first time, on Thanksgiving. Val looked terrified now. They hadn't decided what to do about it yet, but if they decided to have it, she didn't want to have a deformed baby.
“I don't know. Did you take any medicine?”
“No,” she whispered. “Your dad tried to give me some, but I wouldn't take it.” Mark nodded, but that was the least of their problems. She was only five weeks pregnant, but that meant that they had less than two months to do something about it, if she would.
“Do you think you can sleep now?” She nodded, her eyes already half closed and he bent to kiss her, and then tiptoed out of the room. He had wanted to tell his dad, but he couldn't with Christmas and the wedding and everything, and Val had begged him not to. He had to take her to a good doctor, if she was going to get an abortion, not to some crummy clinic, but he was waiting to talk to her about it until they got back to L.A. There was no point discussing it here. There was nothing they could do, and it would just make her more nervous.
“Mark?” Jessica turned in her bed as he was about to leave the room. His departing noises had awoken her. “What's wrong?” She sat up and glanced from him to her sister.
“I just came to see how Val was.” Val was already sleeping and he didn't approach from the doorway.
“Is something wrong?” She must have been totally out of it, Mark decided if she didn't remember how sick Val had been all day with the tourista.
“She got sick from something she ate.”
“I mean, more than that.”
“No, she's okay.” But he was shaking when he got back to his own room. Jessie sensed something, and he knew what they said about twins, that they were practically psychic about each other. All he needed was for her to say something to his dad or their mother and all hell would break loose. He wanted to take care of it himself. He had to. There was no other way.
CHAPTER 27
They left for L.A. the morning of New Year's Eve with Val still weak, but well enough to go home. And they got back to the house at four in the afternoon, tired and suntanned and happy with their trip. Peter had finally consented to come out of seclusion for the last day, and a good time was had by all. Even Mel. Although it hadn't been much of a honeymoon for her, to say the least. He apologized to her on the flight home, and she told him she understood. At least she had gotten some rest before she started work at the network in L.A. She had to report at noon the next day, on New Year's Day, and at six o'clock that night she would begin coanchoring with Paul Stevens. He had been at the station for years, and although he had some devoted fans, his ratings were starting to slip, and they were bringing Mel in to pull him up again. The network felt that together they should make an unbeatable team. He was tall, gray-haired, and blue-eyed, with a resonant deep voice, and a style which appealed to the ladies, the surveys showed. Mel had a strong female draw too, and the surveys all showed that men loved her as well. With the two of them coanchoring on the air, the network knew that they had a prize show, and even if Stevens slipped further, Mel could carry him. But it was the first time that Paul Stevens had ever coanchored, and he was less than thrilled, and for Mel it was a step down too, as she had been sole anchor now for years. It was going to be a humbling experience for both, she knew, and a lesson in diplomacy, working with him.