Belle Pointe

“You can’t be sure about that.” Marcie moved closer and took one of Anne’s cold hands in both of hers. “Didn’t you say you were spotting at the hotel before you even got into the car?”

“Yes. And I wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, hon…” Marcie sighed and squeezed Anne’s hands. “Before I had my first child, I had a miscarriage, too. It happens. I was an emotional wreck, too. I cried for weeks. Even now, today, I think about that baby and wonder what he would look like, what personality he’d have. So I can understand your heart is breaking. But this is a time when you need Buck and he needs you. He’s suffered a loss, too. You know how these jocks are. Even when they’re dying inside they don’t whine, they don’t cry, they don’t get emotional. I understand you want to crawl in a hole and pull your grief in with you, but right now, you and Buck need each other.”

“Maybe that’s the way it is with you and Monk, Marcie, but Buck isn’t going to grieve over losing this baby,” she said sadly. “I actually think he’s going to be relieved.”

Marcie stared at her in amazement. “You can’t believe that.”

Anne tucked her hands beneath the blanket and wearily turned her face to the window again. “I’m not good company right now, Marcie. Please…just—” She swallowed, blinking back tears. “Will you please go out to the nurses’ station and tell them I don’t want any calls and I don’t want to see anybody?”

Marcie studied her in silence for a long moment. “Yes, of course. If that’s what you want. Your doctor has been pretty effective in keeping quiet that you’re here, so if your stay is short, you’ll probably be gone before the media figures out a way to bug you with a visit.”

Out in the hall, the hospital intercom paged a doctor by some anonymous number. Anne looked wistfully out the window. “Don’t you wish they could figure out a way we could be anonymous in this business, Marcie?”

“Most of the time, we wives are anonymous. It’s the players who can’t even go to the bathroom without somebody rubbernecking.” She bent and picked up a jacket from the small settee. “Look, I’m not wishing Buck any grief, but maybe it’s not all bad that this accident forces him to hang around the house awhile. The two of you can use the time to work through your problems.”

“There’s only one thing wrong with that plan, Marcie,” Anne said quietly. “Since I’m no longer pregnant, Buck considers our problem solved. You’re a good friend and I’m grateful you’re here tonight. Thank you for that.”

“Well, what are friends for, darlin’?” Then, with a resigned sigh, Marcie crossed her arms. “Okay, I can tell the nurses that you don’t want any other visitors, but you have to see Buck.” She held up a hand when Anne opened her mouth to argue and repeated, “You have to see Buck…for this reason. If I go out there with your no visitors message, the whole hospital would soon be abuzz with the juicy news that the wife of the St. Louis Jacks star pitcher, who was in the accident with him and has just suffered a miscarriage, has barred him from her room. How long do you think it would take that to reach talk radio and the six-o’clock news? They’ll have a field day with it, Anne. And it won’t stop here in St. Louis. Doggone it, they’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. You know I’m right.”

“I hate living in a fishbowl, Marcie,” Anne cried. “I hate it!”

“It’s not for wimps,” Marcie agreed. As the wife of one of the team managers, she knew firsthand how hard it was to have a private life. For every move a player made, he had to keep in mind that there was someone watching.

Anne sighed deeply. “I guess I have to see him.”

“You do.” Marcie leaned over and kissed her cheek. “One look at that guy’s pretty face and, trust me, you’ll feel a lot better.”

On Sunday mornings, Franklin Marsh enjoyed making breakfast for his wife. He was frying bacon for breakfast when he heard the phone ring. They’d both been anxious since learning of Anne’s accident sometime after midnight. Thinking it was early for calls, he quickly removed the skillet from the hot burner, turned off the stove and by the time he reached the bedroom, Beatrice was already talking. He knew instantly by the look on her face that it was Anne.

“Yes, he’s just starting breakfast, Anne. Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. We’ve been so worried. How are you?” With a hand on her heart, Beatrice sank down on the edge of the bed to listen. They’d both been holding their breaths waiting to hear from his daughter.

“It was such a close call, Anne, but thank God you’re okay.” She paused, nodding slowly. “Yes, he’s right here.” Reluctantly, she handed the phone to Franklin. “She wants to speak to you.”

Franklin took the phone and sat down on the side of the bed beside Beatrice. “Hey, Annie-girl. You gave us a good scare last night, love.”

“I know, Dad, but I’m all right. Is this too early? Did I wake anybody?”

“Oh, no, we’ve been up awhile, both of us. Are you sure you’re okay? Marcie told us about…everything.”

“Uh-huh. I’m just…” He heard a catch in her voice. “…just so sad.”

“Of course you are. We’re both as disappointed as we can be. I know how much you wanted a baby. Buck must be hurting, too. How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay. I don’t know if you’ve heard the details of the accident yet. It’s already all over the news here.”

“And by the time I get to work, it’ll be the talk of the town here,” he predicted. “Tallulah’s favorite son doesn’t do anything that’s not reported up one side and down the other.”

“I wanted you to know some details since the media will distort it somehow.” She drew a shaky breath. “Buck was speeding, which won’t be a surprise to anybody. He swerved to avoid a deer that just appeared out of nowhere. It’s kind of murky, but I remember the car went careening down a steep embankment. I had my seat belt buckled, but Buck didn’t. He has a concussion and his knee is injured. I haven’t seen him yet so I don’t know how bad it is.”

“Uh-oh, that could mean big trouble for the Jacks if he’s out any length of time.”

“I guess.” He heard her take another unsteady breath and after a moment, she added in a different tone, “He should have thought of that before being so reckless.”

Franklin met Beatrice’s concerned gaze. “Are you sure you’re okay, Anne?”

“I will be, Dad. Don’t worry. I…I just haven’t been able to…to…” Her voice caught on a sob. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I was wondering if you would like some company.”

Surprised, Franklin again looked at Beatrice, who was watching him with anxious eyes, her fingers pressed to her lips. “If by company, you mean you and Buck, nothing could be nicer.”

“Not Buck, just me, Dad. I…I’d like to come for a visit, if that’s okay.”

“Well, sure, Annie-girl. But with Buck’s injury—”

“Buck has all of the St. Louis fan base and the whole Jacks organization rallying around him,” she said grimly. “He doesn’t need me. So I’d like to come for a visit if it won’t inconvenience you. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying.”

“Come away. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, you know that.” He stood up, now alarmed by her tone. “You sound…” He hesitated, worried about pushing her and maybe changing her mind about coming. Bea would kill him. “Are you sure it’s the right thing to do—leaving Buck by himself at such a…well, such a delicate time? He’s suffered a loss, too, you know.”

“We’ll talk about that when I get there. I just needed to let you know before making any flight reservations. I’ll probably be discharged tomorrow morning. Once I get home, it’ll take me a while to pack. I don’t know which flight or my arrival time, but you needn’t worry about meeting me at the airport. I’ll rent a car and—”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” he told her. “I’ll pick you up no matter what time it is, day or night.” He glanced at Beatrice, who was nodding eagerly, pointing to herself. “We’ll both be at the airport. Just let us know when.”

“I appreciate this, Dad,” Anne said in a husky tone. “I know it’s short notice, but—”

He heard the catch in her voice. “Anne, a miscarriage can be emotionally devastating. You and Buck—”

“I need some time away from Buck, Dad. Don’t ask me to explain just now.” And before he had a chance to say more, she hung up.

“What’s the matter?” Beatrice asked urgently. “Tell me.”

Still holding the phone in his hand and looking troubled, Franklin shook his head. “I’m not sure, sweetheart. She wouldn’t say anything except she needed some time away from Buck.”

“And she’s coming here?” With a stunned look, Beatrice put both hands to her cheeks.

“That’s why she called. She was apologetic as it’s short notice, but she’s made up her mind.” He frowned. “She’s in an emotional state, Bea. I wonder—”

“I knew we should have left last night! The minute her friend called, we should have gotten a flight. We’d be there for her right now, Franklin. She’s all alone.”

“Hindsight,” Franklin said.

Beatrice stood at the window, looking out. “I know this is an awful thing to say and I grieve for her loss, but I’m thankful for an opportunity to have her visit. I had only a few hours with her on our wedding day before Buck whisked her back to St. Louis.”

“He sure doesn’t spend any time in his hometown if he can avoid it,” Franklin said, rising to go to her. “And even though the circumstances aren’t ideal, it’s—as you say—an opportunity for you to get to know her.”

With her hands clasped and pressed against her heart, Beatrice looked ready to cry. “I want that so much.”

“I know, my darling.” He went to her thinking to comfort her with a hug. Only when he tipped up her chin to kiss her did he see the tears.

Two

It was midmorning that same day before Buck made it to Anne’s room. She was awakened by a light kiss on her forehead. She opened her eyes to find him leaning close, fumbling for her hand. She evaded his touch by clutching the blanket.

“Hi,” he said.

She felt oddly detached, studying his face. One cheek was bruised and he had a black eye. Above it was a sizeable bandage covering what she assumed was the blow that caused his concussion. Day-old stubble darkened his jaws, giving him a rakish look that the nurses probably found sexy. “Hello, Buck.”

“Finding a way to visit my wife around here is harder than trying to finagle a pass to get out of jail,” he said with a smile. “Good thing I know some people.”

He was going to play it with humor, she thought. Okay. Whatever. “Should you be walking around? Monk seemed concerned about your knee.”

“Like they say, I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet.” His smile was a little off-center, aimed at charming her. “But I’m okay. How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine.” She turned to look out the window. “How’s the Porsche?”

“Totaled,” he said wryly. Then a pause. “Anne, I—”

“The staff at the hospital’s buzzing over you being here.” She watched a couple of birds—blue jays, she decided—quarreling in flight. “More than one person has told me we’re both lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah. It was a close call…and stupid on my part. I was speeding and I didn’t have my seat belt on. Thank God you did.”

“The Jacks will no doubt think of some way to exonerate you.”

“But will you?”

“I don’t know, Buck.”

He put out a hand and caught her chin. “Anne, please look at me.” Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his. “I’m sorry. I know those words won’t begin to be enough for you, but I am so sorry. I wouldn’t have this happen for the world.”

“You wouldn’t?” Her eyes locked with his. “Really? Even to rid yourself of a baby you didn’t want?”

He was shaking his head. “I know that’s how it sounded and I wish I had those few minutes in the hotel to live over again. I wish I’d left when you asked me to. I wish I hadn’t driven so fast.” He made a distressed sound. “I…you…I guess I was just floored when I heard you were pregnant. I know that’s no excuse—”

“You’re right. It’s no excuse.” She turned away again. “So what’s the point of talking? I’ve miscarried. The baby’s gone. I accept that you’re sorry. It’s just—” She shrugged. “I guess it just seems…too little, too late.”

“I need you to forgive me for this, Anne,” he said. “I want us to go home and spend some time talking. I want us to—”

She made an impatient sound. “It’s always what you want, isn’t it, Buck? Well, right now I really don’t care what you want. I don’t think you even begin to suspect what has happened to us—to our marriage. I know you made it plain that you didn’t want a baby, but I honestly thought that you’d come around once you knew we had created a child. I was wrong about that and you can rest easy that you won’t have to cope with my silly wishes for a baby ever again.”

She felt a wild urge to throw the covers aside. She wanted to go at him nose to nose to tell him exactly how completely beyond redemption he was to her now. Instead, she made an effort to draw a calming breath. “I want you to leave now, Buck, before we both say things we’ll probably regret.”

His face had gone pale at her attack. Shaken, he said, “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“Too bad.” She sighed then and gave him a sad look. “Are we strangers, Buck? After six years of marriage, do we actually know each other? Did you really not realize how important it was to me to have a child?”

“I don’t think I did,” he said slowly, looking like a man walking a path through a minefield. “I know that sounds selfish and egotistical, but we can work this out, Anne.”

“I don’t know if I want to work it out.”

“You don’t mean that.” He paused, choosing his words cautiously. “I mean, you’re upset and you have a right to be. When we get home and you’ve had a chance to rest and…you know, sort of recover, we’ll talk.”

She gave him a straight look. “Recover from losing my baby? Just like that?”

“Not ‘just like that.’ Of course not.” Looking exhausted, he rubbed a hand over his beard. “I was told you’re going to be released tomorrow morning. Is that right?”

She was so emotionally spent that it was a moment before she answered. “I don’t know. I’d leave now, but my doctor insists that I stay another day. Which is irrelevant as far as you’re concerned. The Jacks aren’t going to let you leave.”

“I want to take you home.” He shifted on his feet, squared his shoulders and got a stubborn look on his face. “I mean, I’m going to take you home. They—the Jacks—do want to keep me in here, but I’m leaving when you do, so don’t go without me. As ticked off as you are, I wouldn’t put it past you to check out early.”

“What’re you going to do to stop me? Camp out in the parking lot?” She sighed, too tired for sarcasm. “Besides, you can’t drive with that knee. You’re in pain. I know the signs whether you admit it or not.” She could tell by the strain pulling at his mouth and the fact that he was sweating. “If you’ve really got a concussion, I don’t think it’s smart for you to be driving. If you don’t worry about your own safety, then I care about mine. Marcie will come for me if I call her.”

“I’ll hire a limo and driver. We’ll go home together. Then we’ll talk.”

“A limousine?” He blinked at the sudden fury on her face. “Do. Not. Hire. A limousine. I repeat, Buck, do not do it. I hate the publicity this has already stirred up. All I need is to get discharged and find a forty-foot limo with a driver waiting to take me away in style. I’m leaving to escape that kind of smothering publicity.”

He frowned as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

She closed her eyes and looked away again, unwilling to get into it with him now about her plans. “I’m tired, Buck. I don’t have the energy to talk about this anymore. You can go home with me tomorrow morning…if you’re able to leave. Otherwise, I will ask Marcie.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked.

She turned to look at him. “I don’t want more gossip, so that’s the way it has to be.”

“Then I’ll be here,” he said, speaking with a clamped jaw. “Come hell or high water, I’ll be here.”

She waved a hand weakly. “Whatever, Buck.”

“I’m sorry, Anne.” When the words came out huskily, he cleared his throat. “I swear to God I’ll make it up to you.”

She turned back to the window without speaking and after a minute, she heard him leave.

Buck was in mortal pain when he got back to his room. In order to get his doctors—and the Jacks on-staff sports medicine physician—to allow him a visit to his wife, he’d finally agreed to being pushed in a wheelchair by an orderly. Turned out, the guy was a Jacks fan and Buck bribed him with prime seat tickets to park him outside the door and wait. Somehow, in spite of his throbbing knee, he had managed to limp to Anne’s bedside. He had been determined not to be in a wheelchair when they talked.

But he was glad to be wheeled back to his room. The effort had taken a toll and he was shaken by Anne’s reaction. She might never forgive him for this. He didn’t know how he’d manage to drive her home tomorrow, but he was determined to do it. No way was he going to let her check herself out of the hospital and him not be there. Judging from her mood today, he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t go to a hotel to keep from looking at him. With his knee throbbing now, he was on the point of buzzing for a nurse when a huge black man strolled into the room.

“Time for your meds, Mr. Whitaker.”

Buck made an attempt to look less than half-dead. “Call me Buck. Mr. Whitaker is my big brother.”

“And you can call me Eddie.” He looked more like a wrestler than a nurse, but he moved with the grace of a dancer. He held out the tiny paper cup. “I brought you something that’ll take you to paradise…temporarily. Considering how you look, it should be welcome.” He watched Buck toss it back and offered water from a decanter on the bedside table to swallow it down.

“How long do these things last?” Buck asked, shuddering.

Eddie tossed the paper cup. “The concussion, the banged-up knee, the bruised ribs, the narcotics or your rotten mood?”

Buck rubbed a hand over his face wearily and grunted an obscenity.

“I guess you mean the dope,” Eddie opined. “With that concussion, a couple hours. It wears off, you can call me and there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t want to sleep through checkout time tomorrow morning.”

“Why, you got a ball game?”

Everybody’s a comedian, Buck thought, staring at his knee, now elevated on some kind of foam wedge-thing and wrapped securely. It was worse than he’d thought at first. He’d seen athletes with similar injuries and he was worried that it could be a long time before he played ball again. “I can veg at home just as well as here,” he told Eddie. “I don’t want to sleep past six-thirty.”

“No problem there,” Eddie said cheerfully as he adjusted the wedge. “You know that old saying, doncha? A hospital is no place to get any rest. There’ll be folks in and out of here starting around daybreak. Sleep through all that and you’re closer to dead than alive.”

With that bit of macabre humor, he stripped off his disposable gloves and tossed them into a receptacle near the door. “You take my advice, you’ll do what your orthopedic man recommends with that knee. I can’t see him liking it that you want to leave here while it’s puffed up like that. You mistreat your knee now, you’ll pay for it later.” At the door, he added, “Whatever your reason for wanting to leave, you might ask yourself if it’s worth your career. ’Cause if you don’t treat it right, that knee can ground you for good.” He flashed a grin as he pulled the door open. “Just my take on it, buddy.”

Buck closed his eyes and prayed for the drug to kick in. He didn’t need homespun advice from anybody to know what to do to be back on his feet the soonest. The concussion was nothing new. He’d had more than a few. In a day or so he wouldn’t even have a headache. But the knee was serious. It could give him grief long enough to knock him out for the season. He worried whether or not he had the time. The Jacks had a major investment in him and would pull out all the stops to give him the treatment necessary to put him on his feet again. He wouldn’t have a choice about it. But Anne was the wild card here. She wasn’t thinking about his career. Hell, she wasn’t even thinking about him as he’d just discovered.

Jesus, he’d really screwed up this time.

Ten minutes later, he had a nice buzz on from the narcotic Eddie had given him. He turned drowsily at a cursory tap on his door as the coach of the St. Louis Jacks let himself in the room. Buck instantly came alive.

Gus Schrader was a squat, red-faced man with attitude. While most of the team he coached was bulked-up athletes who towered over him, Schrader, at about five foot nine, took no guff from anybody. His word was law and Buck respected him more than any coach he’d ever had. Last year, with Buck as starting pitcher, Schrader had shepherded the Jacks into a wild card status and it was his mission in life to actually win the league championship this year and wind up in the Series. He would not be happy that his star pitcher was laid up with a bum knee, especially when he heard how it happened.

“How’s it going, Buck?”

Buck struggled to clear a narcotic haze from his brain and stuck out his hand to greet Schrader. “I’m okay. Ears ringing a little from cracking my head on the windshield,” he said, tossing a grin and hoping not to show how he dreaded whatever the next few minutes would bring. “Otherwise, nothing’s broken.”

Schrader looked at the knee. “Think you’ll be able to walk on that anytime soon?”

“A couple weeks, give or take.” Buck used the remote to raise the head of his bed.

“That so?” Arms crossed, Schrader eyed him skeptically.

“What were you thinking, Coach?”

“I’m thinking your guestimate is a little too optimistic. Grissom’s take on it is more realistic.” He paused. “Plumb grim, if you want the truth.”

Buck winced. Steve Grissom was head of the sports medicine team for the Jacks. “What did he say?”

“Said he examined it within an hour of you checking in. No estimate of how long, but he thinks you’ll need extensive physical therapy before you can pitch. You put any pressure on that knee prematurely and get out on the mound…blam—” He snapped his fingers. “You think it’s in bad shape now. Wait’ll you see the damage then. No, we don’t want to be risking that.”

“I’m with you there, Coach.”

“So Grissom’s arranging a program,” Schrader said, as if Buck hadn’t already agreed. Not that it mattered. Nothing Buck could say was going to change Schrader’s mind if Steve had already passed judgment on the extent of damage to his knee. “It starts the day you leave the hospital.”

“That’ll be tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Schrader’s eyebrows rose.

“I need to get out of here, Gus,” he said, shifting to sit up straight. He had to pause to quiet a shaft of pain from his rib cage before he could speak again. “I know the knee will still give me some grief, but I need to be at home right now. I’ve got some personal issues I need to deal with. I’ll cooperate with the physical therapy. Whatever Steve suggests I’ll go along with a hundred percent.”

“Damn right you will.” He gave Buck a keen look. “What kind of personal issues? I know Anne’s in a room on another floor. Word is the accident brought on a miscarriage.” Schrader didn’t consider anything private if it interfered with an athlete’s performance.

“She’s having a bad time, Gus. I need to be with her right now.”

“Well, I’ll leave it to you whether you go home tomorrow, but if you damage that knee beyond repair, you’ll be writing your own ticket to nowhere. You know that, don’t you?”

“I hear you.”

“Bad publicity’s following you like stink follows a skunk, Buck. I don’t like it.”

“Tell me,” Buck muttered.

“What the hell were you thinking driving that automobile at top speed with your wife beside you and your seat belt off?”

“It was stupid. I was speeding. I admit it. Then that deer just materialized out of nowhere. I acted on pure instinct to avoid it.”

He cut Buck off with a disgusted snort. “Excuses. I don’t hear a reason for anything I mentioned.” His bushy eyebrows beetled with the force of his frown. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you and your wife, but after this caper, I’m surprised the woman isn’t ready to walk away from you. I’m assuming that’s part of the personal issues you mentioned, so I’m not ordering you to stay put here in the hospital. Been my experience that a man handling marital problems is almost as useless as tits on a boar hog. You get out on the mound, you need your head clear. You see where I’m coming from, Buck?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll leave you to think it over…that is, if that stuff they’ve given you for pain hasn’t turned your brain to mush.” He turned on his heel without waiting for a reply and stalked to the door. Then, just before pulling it open, he turned back. “I’m heading up to see Anne right now. I’ve always considered you a lucky man having a woman like that for a wife. You screw that up, you’re more than a fool.”

Which pretty much summed up what Buck thought of himself. When Schrader was gone, he closed his eyes with a tired sigh and welcomed the oblivion of the narcotic.

Anne waited until the sound of the Fredericks’ SUV faded away before sitting up and tossing aside the soft throw that Marcie had thoughtfully tucked about her. The bedroom she shared with Buck was beautiful, a tasteful blend of buttery yellows with touches here and there of red and brown. The art on the walls was original, carefully chosen. The furniture was top-of-the-line. And why not? When they’d built the house, money had been no object and she’d taken a lot of pleasure in decorating it. Unfortunately, it would not echo with the sound of tiny feet, nor would she rock her baby in the chair she’d bought a month ago and secretly stowed away from Buck in the attic.

Her baby. Before she was engulfed in anguish, she went to the sumptuous walk-in closet and took down a piece of luggage. At the chest of drawers built in on her side, she began removing what she’d need for the foreseeable future—bras, panties, socks, T-shirts, pajamas. After packing them, she went back to the closet and chose a few pairs of pants and jeans, some tops, blouses, a running suit. It was too chilly right now for shorts.

Coming out of the closet she lifted her head to see Buck propped in the doorway on his crutches. He looked at the half-packed suitcase and then back at her with a ferocious frown. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I’m leaving. And you’re supposed to be off that knee.” She dropped the clothes on the bed and began folding them.

“C’mon, Anne. This is no way to deal with our situation.”

“It’s the way I choose,” she told him. Her hands were shaking, so she kept them moving, folding, placing this piece and that in the suitcase, reaching for the next one. “However you deal with it is up to you.”

He was at the bed now, trying to get a look at her face. “I’ve said I’m sorry for the way I acted…about the baby and the accident. I mean it, I’m sorry. But it was…hell, I guess I was in a state of shock or something, Anne. For you to just quit taking the Pill…I never expected you to do something like that.”

Moving back to the closet, she picked up a pair of running shoes and came out with the shoes in one hand and another smaller carryall in the other. “I never thought I’d do something like that either,” she said, “but I did.”

“And you think what you did is justified because you wanted a baby?”

She stopped in the act of stuffing the shoes in the bag and looked him squarely in the eye. “I’m going to tell you this one more time, Buck, and if you don’t get it, then it’s plain that the differences in the way we think are so major that we really won’t be able to get beyond it.”

She briefly closed her eyes to gather her thoughts before laying it on the line. “My ovaries are thirty-four years old, which means I’m already past peak childbearing years. I simply couldn’t wait any longer for you to change your mind about having a family. I convinced myself that once you knew I was carrying our child, you’d be as thrilled as I was and your objections would just fade away. Okay, that was dumb. I was wrong about that. It was a serious betrayal of trust and I sincerely apologize.” She gave him a weak smile. “Serious mistakes require serious thinking and I need to be away from you to do it.”

With a bleak look, he watched her throw more stuff in the suitcase. “You blame me for the accident and bringing on the miscarriage, don’t you?”

She paused with a makeup bag in her hand. “Yes, I guess so,” she said slowly. “I wish you’d left when I begged you to.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Anne, I swear I will.”

“Just…leave it, Buck. Don’t go there right now. I need to be away from you for a while.” She closed the suitcase and began zipping it up. “I need to decide whether there’s anything left of our marriage worth saving.”

Seeing he was about to argue, she stopped him by raising a hand. “Please, don’t say any more. It’s not only our differences about whether we should have a baby, Buck. We have differences about the way we live our lives. I’m uncomfortable living in a fishbowl, you know that. I’ve said it enough. But I accepted it for the joy of one day having your babies. That’s something else that went with this miscarriage. I’m not so sure I’m willing to compromise about that anymore.”

“Jesus, are you saying you’re through? You want a divorce?”

“I’m not sure what I want right now. I am sure that I need some time to sort out my thoughts. So I’m going to stay with my dad and Beatrice.”