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"If you think it’s necessary I won’t stop you,” he said, “but I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’m happy to wait and see what happens.”
He said the words but she didn’t believe him. She refused to believe him. She knew he wanted this as badly as she did.
And so, early the following Monday she left for Boston to meet with a consultant to discuss her case. Sloane had offered to accompany her but she’d refused his offer. There were some battles that she just had to fight on her own.
At the clinic they discussed her options then ran a series of routine tests – blood, urine, cervical smears – then gave her an appointment for the following week to do more intensive checks. It was a week after that second round of tests that she found out – to her dismay – that she had an endometrial growth that might prevent her from ever getting pregnant.
Her heart crashed against the rocks of despair. Was she never to get her deepest wish? And how could she tell Sloane?
Melanie told Sloane that same night when she got home but it was hard. It was hard when she saw the disappointment flit across his face but it was even harder when he put his arm around her and told her it was okay.
He was faking it. He had to be. He was just as devastated as she was.
But she had one last card up her sleeve. Her final option for getting pregnant. “I want to try artificial insemination,” she told him. “Whatever it takes, I want to have your baby.”
Instead of jumping at her idea, he looked at her calmly and spoke in a quiet voice. “I know you’re stressed out right now, Mel, but let’s not jump to a decision just yet. We have time-”
“No, we don't.” She pulled out of his arms and glared up at him. “Don’t you see I’m getting older by the minute? Can’t you see it’s almost too late?” Her voice rose with each word, till she was almost shrieking. “We can’t wait. We have to move now.” She ended on a hiccup and the tears began to flow and when he pulled her back into his arms she clung to him like she needed his strength or else she would fall.
“Hush. It’s okay, honey,” he soothed as he stroked her back. “We’ll do it and it will be okay. You can let it all out. It’s okay.”
And Melanie could not speak. She could only cry, clinging to her husband as the sobs racked her body.
Because she knew if this didn’t work, it would all be over.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Melanie, happy birthday to you.”
Melanie’s heart was in her throat as she walked into her office suite and saw a host her employees – from her executive assistant to her managers to the intern who had joined at the beginning of summer – gathered there, wide smiles on their faces.
She almost cried. They’d gone to the trouble of throwing her a surprise birthday party and it had been exactly that – a huge surprise.
Tamara had called her immediately after her site tour of her brand new studio to tell her that she was needed back in office right away. It was an emergency, she’d said, but it was so confidential that she couldn’t discuss it on the phone. Heart thumping, wondering what could be so urgent and so private, Melanie hurried back as instructed and headed straight to her office. Now that she thought back, the place had seemed deserted as she rushed through but she’d been too preoccupied to worry about it.
And now she knew why. The schemers.
She sniffed as she smiled back at them, her heart filled with gratitude that they cared enough to make all this effort. And she sniffed, too, because she was suddenly overcome with another emotion, the bitter disappointment of knowing that she’d hit this major milestone with no bambino in sight.
“How old are you now?” they began to sing, and she raised her hand.
“Now that, I’m not going to reveal,” she said with a laugh. “Now excuse me while I wring Tamara's neck for scaring me half to death. I thought the place was on fire.” She walked over and hugged her assistant then she went around and greeted each of her well-wishers individually, teasing them with threats of more assignments as payback for having deceived her.
All in all, it was a fun and happy get-together…at least for them. They’d each brought food from home so there was an impressive array of dishes – barbecued chicken, beef stir fry, cornbread, coleslaw, potato salad and macaroni and cheese pie. Everything was delicious. When it was time for dessert they wheeled in a tray on which sat a huge slab cake. It read, “Happy thirty-fifth, boss!”
So they’d known all along. And the number staring up at her was like a knife to the heart – for her, the dreaded start of her middle years and the beginning of the end, where babies were concerned. But she was in the company of her employees so, depressed or not, she had to play cheerful.
She was the one who squealed loudest when they blindfolded her and had her smack a piñata and when the celebrations ended an hour later she was still smiling as they all filed out and headed back to their own offices and workstations.
It was only then that Melanie gave in to her true feelings. Feeling drained, she slumped into her chair and dropped her chin on her palm.
It was her thirty-fifth birthday, she would be celebrating her first wedding anniversary in one week, and all she wanted to do was bawl.
***
“Melanie, are you okay, honey?” Sloane’s voice echoed through the phone line but his concern was very clear. “I tried calling you earlier but my calls didn’t go through. How was your birthday?”
‘Was’ was right. It was almost nine o’clock at night so the birthday was almost gone. Only three hours left for it to be part of her past. “It was all right,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic but failing miserably.
“Did you get the flowers I sent you?”
“I did. They’re…beautiful.” That part was the truth. They’d arrived at her office early that morning and she’d taken them home with her. She was staring at them right now as they sat on top of the chest of drawers, a kaleidoscope of startlingly brilliant colors against the almond-white of the room. “Thank you.”
“I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you but there was no way I could miss this conference.” His tone was apologetic. “I’m the keynote speaker.”
“I know and I wouldn’t have you miss it just to be here on my birthday. There’ll be other birthdays.” She meant what she said. To be totally honest, she was glad Sloane wasn’t at home to see her mope. His presence would have been an additional strain on her because, even now, she would have to be faking cheerfulness so he wouldn’t feel bad for her. Being alone, at least she could sulk in peace.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “As soon as I get back we’ll plan a getaway. Do you want to do the Caribbean again? We could try St. Kitts. I hear the diving's great in Basseterre.”
“Yeah, that sounds great. We can talk about it when you get back.” That didn’t sound quite as enthusiastic as she’d hoped but, depressed as she was, it was the best she could do.
There was a pause on the phone line and when Sloane finally spoke his voice sounded strained. “Melanie, are you sure you’re all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she said, forcing into her tone as much liveliness as she could muster. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.” She gave a satisfied sigh. It was fake, of course, and only for Sloane’s benefit. “So how’s London, anyway? Did you get a chance to check out the city?”
“London is London,” he said drily. “It's like my second home. Wonderful city, but after you’ve been here a few dozen times you basically know the place so well you stop getting excited . I'm more like an expat than a visitor. Quite a bit of rain here, though, and kind of chilly for August."
“Aaw, that’s too bad,” she sympathized. “When you get back I promise I’ll warm you up real good. In fact,” she said, letting a naughty inflection slip into her voice, “just think about me and you in a variety of brand new positions. That should warm you up while you’re standing in front of your audience.”
That made him laugh. “Bad girl. Now that you’ve planted the picture in my mind you know I won’t be able to think of anything else.”
“That’s the whole idea.” This time she was laughing along with him and her mirth was real.
Sadly, by the time Sloane hung up and she’d lain back down among the pillows, the sadness returned. Within minutes silent tears were sliding down her cheeks. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away. She just lay there, staring through the tears at the now blurry ball of color on top of the chest of drawers.
But when the horrible lump in her throat climbed up and up until she could no longer hold it in she turned her face into the pillows, clutched them to her, and sobbed out her grief and pain.
