Punchline (14 page)

The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that she had been abducted by a UFO and was being subjected to unspeakable experiments. Women would never voluntarily put themselves through this.

The only thing that anchored her was Darryl. Even when she clutched his hand and shrieked in his ear, he kept speaking in low, reassuring tones.

She tried not to think about the fact that he had been equally unfazed while making a botch of their Thanksgiving turkey.

It was Darryl who told her everything was going fine. It was Darryl who supported the baby as it emerged and assured her that there was only one head and no lobster claws.

And it was Darryl who held the little creature while it uttered a wail of protest at this undignified entry into the world.

“He’s adorable!” he said. “Kind of messy, but cute.”

“It’s a she,” said Bunny.

“No, it’s got…” He hesitated.

“I know a penis when I see one,” advised the guide. “That’s the umbilical cord.”

“So it is,” said Darryl.

While he and Bunny delivered the placenta and cut the cord, Belle held her daughter on her stomach, stroking the little girl until she quieted. She felt some pain where the baby had come out, but it didn’t matter. The agony of a few minutes ago receded as she gazed lovingly at her daughter’s red, wrinkled face and blue eyes.

“She’s gorgeous,” said Darryl. “She looks just like you.”

Belle wanted to protest that she wasn’t red and wrinkled and she didn’t have blue eyes. But the baby
was
beautiful. So was the baby’s father.

At that instant, she felt such a rush of love and tenderness that it could encompass even Darryl Horak. For one aching moment, she wished the three of them would be going home together.

But she knew better than to say anything. The love they both felt was for this baby, not each other. She refused to lie to herself, no matter how much the truth hurt.

B
Y THE TIME
the others came into the room, Belle felt sleep creeping around the edges of her consciousness. She fought it, wanting to keep holding the baby.

She also wanted to ask Janie why she and Greg seemed so chummy. They both looked tired but in good spirits. Only Moira, who declared that she had slept soundly thanks to her earplugs, appeared rested.

After the oohing and aahing faded, it was Moira who asked, “What are you going to call this little doll?”

“Susan,” said Belle. Having accomplished the monumental task of naming the baby, she yielded at last to blissful, all-encompassing sleep.

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
after the storm cleared, they drove down the mountain. A pediatrician examined Susan, while Dr. Cohen checked Belle and put in a few stitches. Both were pronounced in excellent health.

She spent most of the next two days in bed. A kind, solicitous person pretending to be Darryl brought the baby to her to nurse. That same person appeared to have mastered the arts of diapering and of fitting tiny limbs into tiny sleepers.

He had even, she gathered, figured out how to run a washing machine and dryer. It couldn’t be Darryl. It must be some shapeshifter from another dimension.

On the third day, when she finally heaved herself out of bed, Belle heard an odd noise emanating from the living
room. She could almost have sworn it was a man singing. Curious, she padded down the hall and peered into the living room.

From this angle, she could see Darryl seated on the couch with baby Susan cradled in one arm. He was offering her a bottle of water and crooning “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”

The baby stared raptly at her father. As Belle watched the two of them, the present faded and she caught a sudden glimpse of the future.

She could see Darryl tossing his little girl in the air and helping her onto the monkey bars at a playground. Then it was Christmas morning, with Daddy in a Santa Claus suit handing out presents under a shimmering tree.

His dark eyes narrowed as he examined his daughter’s first date, and insisted on driving them to the movies. Then there was Susan beautiful and serious in a wedding dress, with Daddy giving her away but whispering in her ear that he didn’t really mean it and would take her back anytime.

A warm sensation tinged with sadness spread through Belle. How contented those two looked together. Much as it pained her to admit it, Darryl was going to be a good father.

He had bonded with Susan as strongly as any parent had ever bonded with any child. Heck, how many fathers had delivered their own daughters?

With a jolt, she realized that she had come to respect and admire him. The two of them could never get along on an intimate basis, but for as long as they both lived, they would be bound together by the love they shared for this child.

The doorbell rang, breaking her reverie. Darryl tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and went to answer it.

Belle contemplated getting dressed, but decided against it. The bathrobe covered everything that needed to be covered.

As the door opened, Sandra floated in, with Mira Le-mos trailing in her wake. “We want to greet the new arrival!” Sandra’s gaze lit on Susan and she examined the infant as if it were a bizarre and not-quite-trustworthy new invention. “She’s so small! Is this what newborn babies look like?”

The marketing director laughed. She apparently thought Sandra was joking.

“This is Susan,” Darryl explained gravely. “She claims to be a baby but I think she’s a wise old soul.”

“She’s adorable.” Mira stroked a tiny cheek.

“We come bearing gifts!” From the porch, Sandra fetched an exquisite baby stroller, the kind Belle had contemplated buying but decided she couldn’t afford. The publisher dashed out again and returned with a car seat equipped with colorful baubles to entertain the baby.

“You’ve outdone yourself.” Belle moved forward, unable to resist examining these treasures. “Sandra, these are great.”

“You deserve the best!” her old friend insisted. “Listen, I know you need your rest, so we’ll be brief. I’ve had the most wonderful idea!”

“It’s a very good idea.” Mira’s eyes hadn’t moved from the baby.

“Well, you know, the weak thing about the mall presentation is the wedding scene,” Sandra began.

“I did notice that,” Belle admitted.

“It’s static. It should be the climax of the opening weekend, but it’s not the least bit interesting,” Sandra said. “What we need is a real wedding. We would provide the most exquisite gown, tailored to your figure. A veil, designer shoes, gowns for the bridesmaids, tuxedos
for the men! And such flowers, exquisite flowers! Roses and orchids—I see orchids, don’t you, Mira?”

“Lots of orchids.” The marketing director brought her face near Susan’s and laughed when the baby poked her nose.

“The photography would be first-rate, of course,” Sandra continued. “And a reception, catered at the mall’s expense, in the Cathedral Court. Wouldn’t it be splendid? Do say yes, Belle.”

“Are you proposing to me?” she asked.

Her employer laughed in a high soprano, like the good witch Glenda in
The Wizard of Oz.
“No, dear, I’m proposing to you and Darryl.”

“You’re suggesting we have a ceremony at the mall?” His expression reflected his disbelief. “A real one? The kind you get a license for?”

“A license?” Sandra said. “My dear, no one’s asking you to wear a collar!’’

“Not a dog license, Sandra, a marriage license,” Belle corrected.

Her boss winked. “I knew that.”

“If you two don’t mind, of course.” Mira tore her attention from the baby. “We assumed, I mean, as parents, that you might want to make this legal.”

“It is legal,” Belle said. “There’s no law against being a single mother.”

“I think we should consider it,” Darryl murmured. “Just imagine, Belle. A storybook wedding, and it wouldn’t cost you a penny.”

“Me?” she said. “How about you?”

“The bride does usually pay,” Sandra interjected.

“Think what a great layout this would make in
Just Us,
“he said.

Belle couldn’t believe he was going along with this. The whole idea was crazy. But she couldn’t afford to dismiss her employer’s suggestion out of hand.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Oh! Well, that’s better than I’d expected,” Sandra admitted. “Do consider it seriously, Belle. It’s a marvelous opportunity.”

“Thank you,” she said. “The gifts are lovely, Sandra.”

After the pair had departed, she turned to Darryl. “You were joking, right?’’

“Well, no,” he said.

She took the restless baby and settled into a chair. Almost before she had loosened her bra, the little creature clamped on to nurse.

“I wish you knew how earthy and tranquil you look.” Darryl sat on the couch, watching her. “So maternal.”

Belle didn’t want to be told she looked maternal. She wanted to be told she was willowy and breathtaking.

“We can’t possibly get married,” she said.

“It would be good for the baby.” He stretched out his long legs. “She would benefit from having two parents.”

Couldn’t he say something romantic? Why couldn’t he declare that a plump redhead with no makeup and a hair-trigger temper was the kind of woman he’d always dreamed of?

“She will have two parents,” Belle grumped. “They just won’t live together.”

“We could get married for a while.’’ Darryl didn’t seem to be kidding, but it was hard to tell. “We could always get a divorce if it doesn’t work.”

“That’s it?” she asked. “How cold-blooded!”

Darn the man, couldn’t he see that she would never agree to such a halfhearted arrangement? It would be better to go it alone from the start than to find herself abandoned a year or two down the road.

With a twist of pain and pleasure so sharp it brought tears to her eyes, Belle conceded that she loved the man.
Or loved him sometimes, when he wasn’t being so stubborn and cavalier.

But she couldn’t marry him, not under these circumstances. It was all or nothing for her.

“I’m just trying to figure out a way to make this work,” he said.

“To make what work, the mall opening?” she challenged. “You don’t have to go so far as to chain yourself to me, just so they can have their wedding!”

“That isn’t what I meant.” With an irritable gesture, Darryl stood. “I’m just trying to find a way to persuade you to marry me.” Then he got a light in his eyes, a very mischievous, dangerous light. “Wait here!”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Belle observed dryly just before he dashed out the door.

He returned half an hour, later, after she had put the baby in her crib. He brought a bouquet of daisies wrapped in cellophane, a bottle of ginger ale, a package of sparkles, a plastic kazoo and a kneepad made for gardeners.

“Are these for the baby?” asked Belle.

“Indirectly.” With a flourish, Darryl handed her the bouquet, then set the ginger ale on the coffee table. “I knew you wouldn’t drink champagne while you were nursing.”

“Good thinking.” Sitting on the couch, she fixed him with her most skeptical stare. This was, after all, Susan’s nap time and therefore Belle’s, as well.

Next, Darryl removed the kazoo from its casing and hummed a fanfare into it. Then he put the plastic pad on the carpet and knelt on it.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Protecting my knees.”

“No, I mean, the kneeling part.”

“I’m proposing,” said Darryl. “Belle, will you marry me?”

This had to be his idea of a joke. Maybe he and Sandra had cooked it up’ together. “For how long?”

“How long can I get?” he asked.

She thought for a minute. “Until the mall falls down.”

“Okay,” said Darryl. “Will you marry me until the mall falls down?”

The man had no shame! Belle was about to announce that she wouldn’t marry him for even one blink of a gnat’s eye, when she experienced a revelation.

The best way to make Darryl miserable would be to marry him.

He would have to share the hassles of rinding day-care, of coming home to a dirty house, of midnight awakenings and early-morning diaper changes. There would be no more volleyball games or beach parties.

So what if he didn’t expect the marriage to last? At least he could share the burden as well as the joys of parenthood for a few years.

She owed it to herself to marry the man. It would be poetic justice.

“Actually,” Belle said, “The answer is yes.”

The next thing she knew, the air filled with sparkles.

T
HE WOMAN HAD
to have some trick up her sleeve, Darryl reflected as he fastened his cummerbund in the back room of the mall’s formal menswear shop. It was her air of triumph that worried him, along with the way she’d been avoiding private conversations.

He had tried several times to explain that he had fallen in love with her. Suzely Belle, too, had realized during the birth that some things in life took two pairs of hands, two heads and two hearts. But she had always managed to change the subject.

Yanking at his bow tie, Darryl frowned at himself in the mirror. It seemed as if everyone he knew would be here.

His mother, Susan, had flown in from France, and Belle’s parents had driven cross-country, her sister having delivered a healthy boy a month early. The staffs of both magazines would be attending, as would Belle’s neighbor, Moira, who had decided to augment her Social Security by baby-sitting their daughter full-time.

If Belle wanted to embarrass him, today would give her a golden opportunity to do so.

In a way, he envied the peace of mind enjoyed by his friends, who were donning their tuxedos nearby. Greg presented a striking appearance, aglow from his recent reconciliation with Janie.

Jim kept adjusting the collar as if it irritated the skin under his beard, but he was grinning to himself. Incensed that his ex-wife had refused to let him spend Christmas
with his son, he had gone back to court and enforced the right to have the boy visit for the summer.

A few minutes later, the three of them took the escalator to the ground floor. A couple of people riding up eyed their tuxedos and called, “Congratulations!”

Darryl smiled and thanked them. Despite his concern about what Belle might be planning, he was in a good mood.

The invited guests were seated in the Cathedral Court, with onlookers leaning against the railing overhead. Flowers and potted plants turned the vast space into a garden.

“Got the ring?” he asked Greg.

“Right here.” The best man patted his pocket.

Darryl stopped to greet his mother, who beamed with happiness. That was easily explained by the fact that her new granddaughter, looking like a tiny angel in a white lace dress, was lying in her arms.

“I’m glad to see you two hit it off,” he said.

“You’ve done me proud,” said his mother. “You got the order of things backward, but all’s well that ends well.”

Then, leaving Greg and Jim near the minister, Darryl made his way to a side door that led to a private hallway. He would be walking Belle down the aisle, since her father had sprained his ankle climbing out of the motor home that morning and would have to wait near the altar to give her away.

In the hallway, he found Sandra making last-minute adjustments to the flower circlet atop Belle’s hair. The publisher fluttered about excitedly, almost as if this were her own wedding.

She had declined to be in the wedding party, however, claiming her hat would never fit in. “I think I’ll wear my Hanukkah hat,” she had told Darryl with a wink. “Isn’t
it fortunate I had to go and change it that day? Otherwise you two might never have gotten back together.”

Crazy like a fox, he’d thought.

Anita and Janie glowed in their rose-colored cocktail dresses. But today the bride was unquestionably the star.

Darryl felt a burst of tenderness as he regarded his small, intense wife-to-be. The fitted waist on her white gown emphasized her newly recovered slenderness, while a scooped lace inset at the neck revealed a tantalizing hint of her full breasts. How dynamic she looked with her red hair and lively expression—and how dangerously self-satisfied.

In the Cathedral Court, an organ began to play. As Sandra held the door, Janie proceeded first. From the glimmer in her eyes, Darryl suspected she was anticipating her own wedding in the not-too-distant future. Then it was Anita’s turn to stride out with her head held high and her bouquet gripped tightly in gloved hands.

“You’re on!” Sandra prompted as the music switched to Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Belle draped her hand on Darryl’s arm and they stepped into public view.

An approving gasp went up from the onlookers. Among the seated guests, heads turned to watch.

Darryl felt a rush of happiness. He was proud to have everyone see him walking down the aisle with Belle, no matter what her ulterior motive might be. For this moment, she belonged to him.

She pressed close, and he realized she was whispering to him as they walked. “You don’t have to go through with this.”

He didn’t turn his head. “I want to,” he whispered back.

“I’m only marrying you to get even.” She smiled at their audience.

“Get even?”

“Because living with me makes you so miserable,” she returned from the corner of her mouth. “You can back out if you want to.”

He fought down the impulse to chuckle. So that was Belle’s plan! She had said yes to spite him.

“It’s okay,’ he murmured. “I can handle it.”

If she wanted to believe that marriage was a form of punishment, he wouldn’t spoil her fun. This zany, unpredictable woman didn’t have a clue that Darryl was head over heels in love with her.

The hard part would be to keep her from reading it in his face. Thank goodness they were nearly at the altar.

Then her father stepped forward, trying not to wince at the pain in his ankle, and took his Belle’s arm. Darryl relinquished her and went to stand before the minister.

“Who gives this woman…”

H
ER CONSCIENCE WAS
clear. She had warned Darryl, even if she had chosen an awkward time for it.

Why was he still going ahead with the wedding? Belle wouldn’t blame him if he walked away and left her at the altar. It would serve her right.

As her father released her and she turned to face the minister, she lost her awareness of everyone and everything except Darryl. He stood straight and tall beside her, his strength reassuring.

Relief rushed through her, that he was still here. Maybe he cared for her just a little bit. Or perhaps he figured that marriage would make her even more miserable than him.

“Often, when two people get married, they don’t think about the future,” the minister began. “When you’re young and healthy, everything ahead looks rosy. But matrimony is more than a casual friendship. It’s a rock that anchors us, a staff that we can lean on when we need it most…”

Belle had never before wanted someone to lean on. Even now that she had a baby, she could fend for herself most of the time. But the minister’s words reminded her that the future was full of uncertainties, like her mountaintop delivery.

Taking care of a baby by herself could be overwhelming. Darryl made it fun. With him around, ordinary meals turned into challenging discussions, and an evening of eating ice cream and watching TV felt like having a party.

Marriage wasn’t going to make her unhappy in the least. She just hoped Darryl wouldn’t notice that fact for a while.

The minister turned to her. “Do you take this man to love and to cherish, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

With a jolt, she realized that she did. She didn’t just want to punish him with diaper duty for a few years. She wanted to keep him.

“Yes.” Her breath caught in her throat.

Then she waited for some hint of disdain on Darryl’s face as the minister asked whether he took this woman to love and to cherish till death did them part.

“Yes,” he said with no hesitation whatsoever.

As he lifted her hand to slip on the ring, his gaze met hers. The contact lasted only an instant. It was an instant Belle would remember for the rest of her life.

In his face she saw all the love that he had been unable to express. Tenderness burned there like an eternal flame.

He loves me.

The discovery flared through her like fireworks, one spark igniting the next. Belle’s heart swelled as, for the first time, she glimpsed a future full of joy.

A
T THE RECEPTION,
there were endless hors d’oeuvres, dozens of cakes, tray after tray of glasses filled with non-
alcoholic champagne and an orchestra that played every romantic song ever written.

After a while, Darryl got tired of snacking, quaffing champagne—at the bride and groom’s request, there was no punch—and even dancing with Belle. Holding her close under hundreds of watchful eyes and the glare of the Channel 17 minicam only made him yearn for the moment when he would get her alone.

They would be spending a quiet honeymoon in Santa Barbara. Because Belle was nursing, they would take the baby with them. Since the hotel offered a baby-sitting service, however, they could still enjoy elegant dinners and private time together.

He looked forward to walks on the beach and torrid evenings in a rumpled bed. Now that they were married, he thought, things should go more smoothly between them. Small differences no longer seemed important.

At last, Belle agreed that it was time to leave. After changing into a green traveling suit, she leaned over the second floor railing and called to the assembly, “Bridesmaids and lady friends, take the up escalator! I’m throwing the bouquet on my way down!”

With shouts of delight, her friends obeyed. Flashbulbs flared everywhere as the bride sailed downward and her friends escalated up. Into the air flew the bouquet of roses, carnations and baby’s breath, lace billowing behind.

Down, down it came, and then Darryl heard a happy cry. A moment later, he spotted Janie brandishing her prize.

“Next one to get married!” yelled Belle.

Beside him, Greg nodded. “She’s got that right.”

The only thing left to do was to take leave of their friends and families. There were lots of good wishes, and Belle’s parents gave them both big hugs.

His own mother waited until the very end to say goodbye, reluctant to surrender her tiny charge. When it came time, Susan handed over her namesake with great care. “Belle, I couldn’t be more thrilled to have you as my daughter,” she said. “And I want to thank you for naming the baby after me.”

Surprise flashed across the bride’s face. “The truth is, I didn’t know your name was Susan,” she confessed. “It was a lucky coincidence!”

“How did you choose the name, then?” Darryl asked.

“Oh, I named her after Susan B. Anthony.”

He had nothing against suffragettes, but he could feel his hackles rising. “You should have consulted me.”

“Why?” She snuggled the baby close. “You like the name.”

Darryl drew her toward the door. “That isn’t the point. We’re supposed to be a team. Teammates don’t make important decisions without asking each other.”

Belle gave everyone a farewell wave as she and Darryl reached the exit. “Don’t you trust my judgment?”

“It isn’t a question of trust,” he growled as they went out into the daylight.

Her voice drifted back to the onlookers. “You haven’t objected all these weeks.”

“Because I thought you were naming her after my mother!”

“How would I have known your mother’s name was…”

Heavy glass doors shut out the rest of the words as they climbed into a waiting limousine. But from the way they mouthed phrases at each other as the car pulled away, the discussion was far from over.

And they
fought happily ever after.