Danielle Steel - Mixed Blessings

Mixed Blessings [067-011-5.0]

by danielle steel

Synopsis:

Three couples must make decisions about having children, and the

outcome will affect, in unexpected ways, the ties that bind them as

lovers, partners, and friends.

While Diana Goode and Andrew Douglas, successful career people,

struggle with the pain of infertility, Charlie Winwood tries to

persuade his actress wife Barbie Mason to have a baby, and a

forty-something attorney contemplates late motherhood.

Doubleday

ISBN: 0385306644

beloved miracle Tiny miracle of hope, extraordinary blessing, smallest

dream, how great the love to start the pitter-pat of your clock, how

great the shock when you are gone, how rare the grief, the roar of

pain, and then, with luck, to be blessed again, to have, to hold, to

give, to share, to dare the rocks, the waves again, to swim until you

can no more, to cry out in the dark with longing bigger than the sky,

whisper softly, bring it near, hope the gentler spirits hear, long

wait, dark night, never dare to breathe, until tiny fingers pluck your

sleeve, and touch your heart with gold, never too late, too dark to

have a child to hold, miracle of life, precious moment of them all,

aching whispers, anguished call, until at long last here, and then to

hold you in my arms, ever loved, instantly ours, beloved wonder oh so

dear.

The sky was a brilliant blue, and the day was hot and still as Diana

Goode stepped out of the limousine with her father. The angles of her

face were softer than usual beneath a haze of creamy ivory veil, and

the heavy satin dress whooshed softly as the driver helped her out and

settled it around her. She beamed at her father, standing outside the

church, and then she closed her eyes, trying to remember absolutely

every detail of the moment. She had never been this happy in her

life.

Everything was perfect.

"You look beautiful," her father said softly, with All Saints Episcopal

Church in Pasadena rising behind her. Her mother had gone ahead in the

other car with her sisters and their husbands and children. Diana was

the middle child, classically striving to be better, smarter, more

successful. She loved her sisters with a deep, solid affection, and

yet she always felt she had to do something more than they did. Not

that they had set such impossible standards. Her oldest sister, Gayle,

had been set on going to medical school, until she met her husband in

her first year of premed, married him that June, and instantly got

pregnant. At twenty-nine, she had three adorable little girls of her

own now. Gayle was two years older than Diana, and although they were

close, there had always been a sense of rivalry between them, and the

two women were astoundingly different. Gayle never looked back at a

career in medicine once. She was happily married, and satisfied to

stay home with her girls, and keep busy with them and her husband. She

was the perfect doctor's wife, intelligent, informed, and completely

understanding about his hours as an obstetrician. They were planning

to have at least one more child, Gayle had confided to her a few weeks

before. Jack was desperate for a boy now. Gayle's whole life revolved

around her husband, and her children, and their home. For her, the

world of careers held absolutely no appeal, unlike her two younger

sisters.

In some ways, Diana had more in common with her younger sister, Sam.

Samantha was ambitious, competitive, excited about being out in the

world, and for the first couple of years she was married, she had

desperately tried to juggle both home life and career. But when her

second child was born thirteen months after the first, a mere two years

after she'd gotten married, she admitted that she just couldn't do

it.

She quit her job at an art gallery in L.A. and decided to stay home,

which was welcome news to her husband. Although for months after she'd

quit, Sam felt disappointed not to be working. In the two years they'd

been married, Seamus's work had begun to be recognized and admired, and

he was slowly becoming one of L.A."s most successful young contemporary

artists.

Sam did free-lance design work from home, but even that was almost

impossible to do, with no help and two very young children. She adored

being home with Seamus and her babies, and they had a great marriage,

and their son and daughter were two little fat cherubs. Everyone who

saw them instantly loved them. But still, there were times when she

envied Diana's place in the working world, among "grown-ups," as she

put it.

But in Diana's eyes, her sisters' lives seemed so settled. As far as

she could see, at twenty-five and twenty-nine, her sisters seemed to

have everything they wanted. Sam was happy and at ease in the world of

modern art, Gayle was equally so as the wife of a doctor. But Diana

had always wanted so much more than they had. She had gone to

Stanford, and then did her junior year abroad, in Paris, at the

Sorbonne. And she had returned to Paris for yet another year there

after graduation.

She had found a fabulous little apartment on the rue de Grenelle, on

the Left Bank, and for a while she had decided that she really was

going to stay there. But after a year and a half working for

Paris-Match, she got homesick for the States, and her family . . . and

most of all, much to her own surprise, for her sisters. Gayle had been

having her third baby then, and Sam had been expecting her first, and

somehow Diana just felt that she wanted to be with them.

But she felt torn when she got back, and tortured herself for the first

few months about whether or not coming back had been the right thing.

Maybe she hadn't tried hard enough to stay there.

Paris had been great, but L.A. was interesting, too, and she had landed

a great job almost instantly when she returned, as a senior editor at

Today 5 Home. The magazine was still new then and the opportunities

were exciting. The salary was good, the people were nice, the working

conditions were great, and they gave her a fabulous office. Within

months she was running shoots, hiring photographers, rewriting some of

the stories herself, and flying off to look at extraordinary homes in

exotic locations. She even got back to Paris now and then, and

London.

She shot one issue in the south of France, another in Gstaad. And of

course New York, Palm Beach, Houston, Dallas, San Francisco, and other

American cities. It was the perfect job for her, and it made her the

envy of her friends, and even her sisters. To anyone who didn't

realize what hard work it was, it looked extremely glamorous, and so

did Diana.

Shortly after she took the job, Diana met Andy at a media party. They

talked six hours straight in a little Italian restaurant the night they

met, and after that she hardly had time to catch her breath before he

asked her to move into his apartment.

She waited six months before she did, cautious about giving up her

independence. But she was crazy about him, and he knew it. He was

wild about her, too, and everything about them was a perfect mesh.

They seemed to be ideally suited to each other.

He was tall and handsome and blond, had been a tennis star at Yale, was

from an old, respected family in New York, and had come to UCLA to go

to law school. And as soon as he graduated, he had gone to work in the

legal department of a major network. He loved his work, and Diana was

fascinated by what he did, and the people he knew there. He was the

legal counsel for several important shows and the network was extremely

pleased with the way he handled their more complicated contracts.

Diana loved going to business parties with him, meeting some of the

stars and talking to other lawyers, big producers, and important

agents. It was heady stuff, but Andy took it all in stride. He had a

good head on his shoulders, a bright mind, and he was seldom impressed

by the glamour of the world he worked in. He liked what he did, and

eventually he planned to open his own practice, specializing in

entertainment law. But he knew it was still too soon, and appreciated

the valuable experience he was getting at the network. He knew exactly

where he was going and what he wanted out of life. He had carefully

mapped out his career long before, and when Diana walked into his life,

he knew within a matter of days that this was the woman he wanted as

his wife, and the mother of his children. And they had laughed when

they discovered that they both wanted four children. He had been one

of four boys, which included a set of identical twins, and Diana

wondered if they would have a set of their own. They talked a lot

about having kids, and Diana realized that once in a while their sexual

carelessness was born of their desire to tempt the fates and get

pregnant. Neither of them would have been distraught if Diana had

gotten pregnant and forced them into an early marriage. Within months

of the day they met, they both talked openly about wedding plans and

their long-term intentions.

They lived together in a small but handsome apartment in Beverly

Hills.

They shared much the same taste, and they had even bought two paintings

from Seamus. With their combined incomes, they could afford something

really nice. They decorated in stark modern style, and spent all their

extra money on art. One day they wanted to start an important

collection, but they couldn't afford it now, so they bought what they

could and enjoyed it immensely.

But what really pleased Diana about Andy was how well he got on with

her parents, and with her sisters and their husbands. As different as

Jack and Seamus were, Andy seemed to like both of them, and frequently

had lunch with them when he didn't have a business lunch scheduled at

the network. And he seemed to be just as much at ease in Seamus's

world of art as he was in Jack's world, either discussing medical

research or financial investments. Andrew Douglas was an easy, likable

guy, and everything about their life together thrilled Diana.

They went to Europe together after the first year, and she showed him

all her favorite haunts in Paris, and afterward they drove through the

valley of the Loire. And then they went to Scotland to visit Nick,

Andy's younger brother, who was spending a year there. It was the

perfect life, and after they got home, they started making leisurely

plans to get married the following summer. They got engaged eighteen

months after they met, and set the wedding date eight months later, in

June, and decided to go back to Europe for their honeymoon, to the

south of France this time, Italy, and Spain. Diana had managed to get

three weeks off from the magazine, and Andy had wangled the same amount

of time from the network.

They looked for a house in Brentwood, Westwood, and Santa Monica, and

even thought about commuting from Malibu when they saw something they

really loved there. But in March they found the perfect house, in

Pacific Palisades. It had been well loved and well tended by a large

family for years, and now the children had grown and gone and the

couple who owned it were reluctantly selling. Andy and Diana fell in

love with it at first sight. It was big and rambling and warm, there

was wood panelling, and there were wonderful trees just outside and a

huge garden for the children to play in. There was a lovely master

suite on the second floor, and an office for each of them, as well as a

handsome guest room. And on the floor above were four huge children's

bedrooms.

The closing on the house was in May, and Andy had moved into it just

three weeks before the wedding. The night of the rehearsal dinner,

which Diana's parents gave at the Bistro in Beverly Hills, there were

still boxes everywhere, and Diana had left her bags for their honeymoon

in the front hall. She didn't want to spend the night before the

wedding with him, and she was spending the night at her parents'. She

spent it in her childhood bedroom, and lay for a long time after she

woke up, looking at the faded pink-and-blue flowered wallpaper she knew

so well. It was funny to think that in a few hours she would be

someone else, someone's wife . . . what did that mean? Who would she

be then? Would it be different than it had been living with him?

Would he change? Would she? Suddenly it all seemed more than a little

scary. She thought of her sisters then, the men they had married, the

children they'd had, and how it had all changed them, subtly at first,

and then over the years, they seemed to become sort of a unit with

their children and husbands. She was still close to them, but in

subtle ways it was just a little different. It was odd to think, too,

that a year from now she might have her own child. The idea gave her a

small thrill in the pit of her stomach. Making love to Andy was always

so extraordinary, but it was even more exciting to think that one of

these days it might bear fruit, and they would have a baby. She loved

Andy so much, and loved thinking about having his children.

She was still smiling to herself when she got up on her wedding day,

thinking about Andy and the life they would share.

She went downstairs for a quiet cup of coffee before everyone got up,

and her mother came down after that, and half an hour later her sisters

and their children arrived to dress there, and help Diana get ready for

the wedding. Their husbands had stayed home, both were going to be

ushers in the wedding.

Gayle's three girls and Sam's one little girl were going to be flower

girls, and Sam's little boy was going to be the ring bearer. He was

just two, and he looked so cute in the little white silk suit Diana had

picked out for him, she and her sisters had tears in their eyes when

they saw him.

Diana's mother rounded the children up shortly after they arrived, and

she'd hired a girl to help keep them in order while their mothers

dressed. "Typical," Gayle had cracked with a grin and a raised

eyebrow. Their mother usually thought of everything, planned for all

contingencies, and was so organized as to make everyone groan when she

started calling them in June to find out what their plans were for

Thanksgiving. But her mother had been a godsend for Diana in putting

together the wedding. She had been so busy herself at the magazine,

she'd scarcely had time to go to her own fittings, but her mother had

handled everything, and Diana knew that, as a result, everything would

go smoothly. And so far, it had. Her sisters looked beautiful in

their pale-peach silk gowns, and they were carrying the palest

peach-color roses. And the little girls looked exquisite, too, in

their white dresses with peach-colored sashes, carrying baskets of rose

petals in their little gloved hands, as they left for church with their

grandmother and mothers. Diana stayed and chatted with her father for

the last few, nerve-wracking moments.

"You look just beautiful, sweetheart," he beamed at her. He had always

been so proud of her, so decent and kind and supportive. She had no

complaints about her parents, there had been no hidden agendas here, no

unreasonable demands, no animosities, not even as she was growing up,

from what she remembered. Gayle had had a harder time with them, and

she and their mother had had their share of violent disagreements.

But Gayle was their first, and "I was breaking them in," she always

explained later. But Diana had always thought her parents were pretty

reasonable, and Samantha agreed with her, most of the time, although at

first the senior Goodes had been a little nervous about her marrying an

artist. But eventually they had grown to admire and respect him.

Seamus was a character unto himself, but it was difficult not to like

him.

And they had no reservations at all about Andrew Douglas.

He was a lovely man, and they knew Diana would be very happy with

him.

"Scared?" her father asked gently, as she paced a little in their

living room, waiting the last few moments before going out to the

limousine that would take them to her wedding.

They still had a little time, and suddenly Diana wished it were all

over and done, and they were at the Bel Air that night, or on the plane

to Paris the next morning.

"Sort of." She grinned, looking like a kid again. Her long,

reddish-brown hair was swept up in a bun beneath her veil, and she

looked remarkably sophisticated, and at the same time very young, as

she looked at her father. She had always been able to turn to him, to

tell him what she felt, to share her griefs and fears with him. But

she had no serious fears now, only a few unanswered questions.

"I keep wondering if it'll be different now . . . being married, I

mean . . you know, instead of living together She sighed, and smiled

again. "It all seems so grown-up, doesn't it?" At twenty-seven she

still felt so young, and yet at times so old. But it seemed a good

time to be getting married, especially to a man she loved as much as

she loved Andrew William Douglas.

"It is grown-up, her father said with a smile, as his lips gently

brushed her forehead. He was a tall, distinguished-looking man with

white hair and intense blue eyes. He knew her well, and liked the

woman she'd become, and the man she was planning to marry. He knew

they'd do well. He had no fears in his heart for Andrew and Diana. If

life was kind to them, they would go far, and he wished them well for

their journey.

"You're ready for it. You know what you're doing, and he's a good

man.

You won't go wrong, sweetheart. And we're always here for you . . .

and for Andy. I hope you both know that."

"I do." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked away. She suddenly

felt so emotional to be leaving him, and this house, even though she no

longer lived there. It was harder leaving him, in some ways, than her

mother, who was busier and more matter-of-fact, and had been engrossed

in straightening Diana's veil and keeping the children from stepping on

her train before they left for the church. But there were no

distractions now, only love and hope, and an avalanche of feelings, as

she stood in the living room with her father.

"Come on, young lady," he finally said, his voice gruff but loving.

"We have a wedding to go to." He grinned at her and offered her his

arm, and he and the driver helped her into the car with her long train

and full veil, and a moment later she was settled in the backseat,

carrying her huge bouquet of white roses. The fullness of the gown was

spread all over the car, and she was suddenly startled as they drove

away to see children waving and pointing at her. "Look! . . .

Look!

. .

A bride, It was funny to realize that she was the bride, and she felt

giddy with excitement as they drove away. Suddenly she could feel her

heart pounding, as she readjusted her veil and straightened the lace

bodice and huge satin sleeves that had been adjusted endlessly in the

fittings. The dress was very Victorian in style, and extremely

formal.

They were having three hundred people to the Oakmont Country Club for a

reception afterward. Everyone would be there-her old school chums, her

parents' friends, distant relatives, people she knew from the magazine,

Andy's friends, and a host of people he had invited from the network.

His closest friend from work, William Bennington, was going to be in

the wedding. And a few of the stars he had worked closely with on

their contracts were coming. His parents and all three of his brothers

had come too. Nick, who'd been in Scotland, was working in London now,

and Greg and Alex, the twins, were at Harvard Business School, but they

had all come. The twins were six years younger than Andy, who was

thirty-two, and he had always been their hero. They were crazy about

Diana, too, and she was looking forward to seeing more of them, to

having them come out during vacations from school, or maybe even

talking them into moving to California. But unlike Andy, the other

Douglas boys preferred the East, and Greg and Alex thought they would

probably wind up in New York or Boston, or maybe even in London, like

Nick.

"We're not star-struck like our brother," Nick had teased him

good-naturedly the night before at the rehearsal dinner.

But it was obvious that they admired his success, and his choice of

bride. The three boys were clearly very proud of their oldest

brother.

Diana could hear the organ music in the church as they stood outside.

She took her father's arm, and she felt a little tremor of excitement

run through her. She looked up at him with eyes as blue and electric

as his own, and as they started up the steps of the church she squeezed

his hand.

"Here we go, Daddy," she whispered.

"Everything's going to be just fine," he reassured her, just as he had

the night of her first play . . . and the time she'd fallen off her

bike and broken her arm when she was nine, and he drove her to the

hospital, telling her funny stories and making her laugh, and then

holding her tight against him when they set it. "You're a wonderful

girl, and you're going to be a great wife," he said to her as they

stopped just outside the main door, waiting for a signal from one of

the ushers.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered nervously.

"I love you, too, Diana." He bent and kissed a froth of veil, as the

pungent smell of the roses seemed to surround them. It was a moment

they both knew they would remember for a lifetime. "God bless you," he

whispered as the signal came, and her sisters began walking slowly down

the aisle, followed by three of Diana's oldest friends, in the same

peach gowns and huge organza hats, and then a cavalcade of adorable

children.

There was a longish pause as the music became more imperious, and then

slowly, slowly, regally and gracefully she came, a young queen going to

meet her consort, in the white satin dress with the narrow waist and

the beautiful ivory lace inserts.

The veil seemed to surround her like a soft haze, and beneath it the

well-wishers could see the shining dark hair, the creamy skin, the

brilliant blue eyes, the nervous half smile, her lips slightly parted,

and then she looked up and saw him, tall and handsome and blond and

waiting for her. The promise of a lifetime.

Andrew had tears in his eyes as he looked at her. She looked like a

vision as she glided slowly down the aisle carpeted in white satin.

And then at last, holding her bouquet in trembling hands, she stood

before him.

Andy gently squeezed her hand, and the minister solemnly addressed the

congregation, reminding them of why they had come, of their awesome

responsibility as family and friends to support the young couple in

their vows, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer

or poorer, until death did them part. He reminded Andrew and Diana

that the road would not always be smooth, that the fates may not always

be kind, but that they must be there for each other, in witness to

their vows, faithful to each other, and strong in their love for each

other and the Lord.

They made their vows to each other in strong clear voices, and by then

Diana's hands had completely stopped shaking.

She wasn't frightened anymore. She was with Andy. Where she

belonged.

And she had never, ever been happier in her life. She was beaming when

the minister declared them man and wife. The narrow gold band Andy had

slipped on her finger gleamed in the sunlight, and as he bent to kiss

her, the love in his eyes was so tender that even her mother finally

cried. Her father had cried long before that, when he left her at the

altar beside the man she loved. He knew that it would never be quite

the same for them again . . . she belonged to someone else now.

They walked down the aisle looking radiant and proud, and they were

still beaming as they got into the car to go to the club for the

reception. And after that, the dancing went on until six o'clock. It

seemed to Diana as though everyone she had ever known, and several

hundred people she hadn't, had been invited. And by the end of the

afternoon, she felt as though she had danced with everyone there, and

she and her sisters had had a hysterical time doing the limbo with Andy

and his brothers. Both of the twins had had to dance with Sam, since

there were four Douglas boys and only three Goode sisters, but Sam

seemed to love it. She was only a year younger than the twins, and

they were all great friends by the end of the reception.

And Diana was touched to see how many of Andy's friends from the

network came, even the chairman had come with his wife, although they

only stayed for a little while, but it had been nice of them to come at

all, and her editor in chief from Today 5 Home had come, too, and he

had danced several times with Diana, and with her mother.

It was a beautiful afternoon, a perfect day, the beginning of a life

she had always dreamed of. Everything had worked out perfectly in her

life so far. Andy had come into her life at the right time, they had

been happy for the past two and a half years, and she had loved living

with him, and now it seemed the perfect time to be married. They were

both sure of each other and themselves, and what they wanted out of

life. They wanted to be together, to share their lives, and to build a

family like each of their own. They had so much to share, so much to

give. Diana felt for an instant as though it was almost too perfect,

as she stood and looked at him, just before she went to change out of

her wedding gown. She hated to take it off, never to wear it again, to

turn the reality into a memory. She wanted the moment never to end, as

she looked up at her brand-new husband.

"You look incredible," he whispered to her, as he swept her onto the

dance floor again for one last waltz before they left the party to

begin their life together.

"I wish today would never end," she said, closing her eyes, and

thinking of how wonderful it had been.

"It won't," Andy said quietly, pulling her even closer. "I won't let

it. It'll always be like this, Diana. . . . We have to remember that,

if things ever get tough between us .

"Is that a warning?" She pulled away a little as she smiled at him.

"Are you going to start giving me a hard time now?"

"Very." He grinned, moving closer to her, and his meaning was not lost

on her as she chuckled.

"Shame on you. She laughed at him as they continued to waltz around

the dance floor.

"Shame on me? Who left me alone and went back to her parents' house to

be a virgin?"

"One night! Andy!"

"It was not one night . . . it was longer . . . I know it." He

pulled her closer to him again, and rested his cheek against her veil,

as she gently touched his neck with delicate fingers.

"It was one night "You'll have to make it up to me for weeks,

starting"-he glanced at his watch-in about half an hour." The music

slowly came to an end and he looked at her tenderly. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, sad to leave their wedding, but it was time, it was after

six o'clock, and they were both tired.

Her bridesmaids went upstairs with her while she changed, and Diana

slowly took off the beautiful gown and the veil. Her mother carefully

hung them up on specially padded hangers, and watched the younger

women's excitement with a little smile, from a distance. She loved her

girls more than anything.

They had brought her such joy, and now she was happy to see them all

well settled, and happily married.

Diana put on the ivory silk suit her mother had picked out with her at

Chanel. It was bordered in navy blue, with a handbag to match, and it

had big pearl buttons. Diana had bought a cream colored hat, too, and

she looked wonderfully chic when she went back downstairs to meet her

husband, carrying the huge bouquet of white roses.

His eyes lit up as she walked into the room again, and a moment later

she had thrown her bouquet, and he had thrown her garter. And amidst a

hailstorm of rice and rose petals, they ran to their car, after quick

kisses to their siblings and their parents. They promised to call from

the trip, and Diana especially thanked her parents for the beautiful

wedding. And then they were gone, in a long white limousine, off to

the Bel Air Hotel for their wedding night, to stay in a huge suite

overlooking the hotel's carefully landscaped gardens.

Andy put an arm around her as the car drove away, and they both sighed

in relief and exhaustion.

"Wow! What a day!" he said, as he leaned back against the seat and

looked at her in silent appreciation. "You were a gorgeous bride!" It

was so odd now to think it was all over.

"You looked pretty good yourself." She smiled at him. "It was such a

beautiful wedding."

"You and your mom did a fantastic job. Every time I talked to someone

at the network they said it was better than anything they've seen on a

movie set." It had been loving and happy and filled with their family

and friends, but it also wasn't showy. "Your sisters were a riot

too.

You guys really get out of hand when you get together, don't you?" He

teased her, and she sat up in feigned outrage.

"We do! We do? I'd say the Douglas boys don't do badly in that

department either! You guys were outrageous!"

"Don't be silly." Andy looked demure as he pretended to look out the

window, and his new wife pushed him, almost onto the floor, as he

chuckled.

"Are you kidding? Excuse me, but do you recall when all four of you

did the boogaloo with my mother?"

"I don't remember that." He was all innocence, and they were both

laughing.

"You're drunk."

"I must be." He turned around and grabbed her then, and held her close

as he kissed her. It was a long time before he came up for air, and

when he did, they were both breathless.

"God . . . I've been dying to do that all day. I can't wait to get to

the hotel and tear your clothes off."

"My new suit?" She looked horrified, and he grinned in anticipation.

"And the new hat that goes with it. I must say, they're very nice

though."

"Thank you." They held hands and chatted in the backseat, feeling new

in their love again. In a funny way, it was almost like starting at

the beginning, except that they were old friends, and everything they

did was comfortable and blessed by the love they had for each other.

When they arrived at the hotel, a desk clerk walked them down the path

into the main building, and they smiled at each other as they walked

past a discreet sign pointing the way to the Mason-Winwood wedding.

"Must be a big day," Andy whispered to her, and she smiled.

They glanced at the gardens and the swans, and they were thrilled when

they saw their room. It was on the second floor, and it had a huge

living room, a small kitchenette, and a fabulous bedroom all done in a

delicate French flower print and pink satin. It looked like the

perfect place for their wedding night, the living room had a fireplace,

and Andy was hoping it would be cool enough that night to light it.

"It's beautiful," she said, as the bellman left, and the door closed

behind him.

"So are you. He gently took off her hat and swooped it through the air

onto a table. And then he carefully undid her hair and ran his fingers

through it, as it fell to her shoulders.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen . . . and you're mine

. . . forever and ever and ever . . ." He sounded like a child,

telling a fairy tale, but that was what they had promised. And the

bride and groom lived happily ever after. .

"And you're mine too," she reminded him, but he didn't need reminding,

and he had no objection. The elegant new Chanel suit was quickly

unbuttoned as they kissed, and the jacket fell to the floor as he lay

her on the couch, and a moment later his own clothes were beside it.

Their clothes lay tangled on the floor while their bodies lay long and

lean and taut as they discovered each other for the first time as man

and wife.

All their passion, all their promises, seemed to come together in a

single moment of abandon, and Diana lay clinging to him as though she

would never let him go, not for a moment or a lifetime. Their ecstasy

rose, and they shuddered with pleasure, and then lay peacefully in each

other's arms long after it was over. It was sunset by then, and long

pink and orange fingers of light streaked into the room, as they lay

together, thinking of the life they would always share now.

"I've never been so happy in my life," he said softly.

"I hope you always will be," she whispered. "I hope I always make you

happy."

"I hope we make each other happy," he added, and then unwound his long

limbs from hers and stood up, smiling down at her, and he walked slowly

to the window. The black and white swans were gliding smoothly on the

pond, and the lawns looked perfectly tended. Young people in brightly

colored cocktail dresses were hurrying to an area just beyond their

view, as strains of show tunes wafted through the evening air toward

them.

"That must be the Mason-Winwood wedding." Diana smiled at him, still

lying on the couch, and suddenly hoped that they had just made a

baby.

They had used no precautions at all this time, they had no reason to

anymore. They had agreed not to, and see what happened, as soon as

they were married. Both of her sisters had gotten pregnant on their

honeymoons, and she suspected that the same might happen to them, which

genuinely pleased her.

She stood up after a few minutes and came to stand with him, and just

as she did, she saw a young woman in a short white wedding dress run

down the path, holding onto a short white veil and a small bouquet, and

with her was a girl in a red dress, probably her maid of honor. The

bride looked about Diana's age, or thereabouts, an "assisted blonde,"

attractive enough, in a sensuous way, and the dress had looked

elaborate, but not expensive. But something about the way she looked

and the nervous way she ran touched their hearts as they watched her.

The feelings were all too familiar to them, and they wished her well as

she ran to her wedding. .

"Barbie, come on!" Judi, the girl in the red dress, urged, as Barbara

stumbled and almost fell in the white satin high heels she had bought

at Payless only that morning. "Here . . . take it easy, kid Judi

extended a hand to steady her, and Barbara stopped to take a deep

breath, and stand hidden from the guests, as Judi waved to the best

man, mouthing, "Is it time?" He shook his head and held up five

fingers, as the maid of honor nodded her understanding. The two women

were friends, although they hadn't known each other for all that long a

time. Both were actresses who had come to L.A. from Las Vegas the year

before, where they had been dancers. To save the meager sums they

made, the two girls decided to become roommates.

Judi had had two bit parts since she arrived in L.A some modeling jobs,

and almost got a walk-on in a commercial.

Barbie got a part in the chorus of a revival of Oklahoma! when it came

through town, had tried out for every daytime soap, unsuccessfully, and

like Judi, had spent the rest of her time waiting on tables. She got a

great job at the Hard Rock Cafe when she first came to town, and

gotJudi a job there too. And it was at the Hard Rock that they had both

met Charlie.

Judi went out with him first, but they hated each other and had nothing

to say, and it was Barbie he kept coming back to talk to. For a while,

he ate lunch there almost every day, and then finally he got up the

courage to ask her out. It had been easier asking Judi, the first time

around-she was so much more casual, so much more matter-of-fact-but he

thought Barbie was really special.

He and Barbie dated a few times after that, and by the fourth date,

Charlie was head over heels in love with her, and too scared to say

it.

He even stopped seeing Barbie for a while, but he couldn't stay away.

He called Judi and asked her to meet him. He wanted her advice, and he

wanted Judi to tell him what Barbie thought of him.

"She's crazy about you, you jerk." It amazed her how any man

twenty-nine years old could be so naive about women.

She had never known anyone like him, and neither had Barbie. He wasn't

really handsome, but he was "cute," in a boyish way, and so innocent

and decent.

"What makes you think she likes me? Did she say anything?" he asked

Judi suspiciously, but she laughed again.

"Because I know her better than you do." Judi knew that Barbie liked

his sweetness, his generosity, and she thought he had taken her to some

pretty nice places. He made a good living as a rep for a major textile

company, he did pretty well on commissions, he liked taking girls to

nice restaurants, and he lived pretty well for a single guy. The nicer

things in life were important to him. He had grown up dirt poor in New

Jersey, and it meant a lot to him to have a good life now. He worked

hard for it, and he earned it. "She thinks you're a great guy," Judi

added, wondering if she should have made more effort with him herself,

but he just wasn't her type. She liked excitement, and Charlie was too

wholesome. He was a nice guy, but she liked her men racier. She was

looking for the big time, and he bored her. Barbara was a different

story though.

Judi knew she had grown up in a small town, won "Miss Everything in

Town" by the time she finished high school, and then had some kind of

blowout with her folks and ran away to Las Vegas. She'd been thinking

of going to New York for a long time, but it was just too far from Salt

Lake, and Vegas had been closer. But in spite of the men she'd met

there, and the hard times, there was still something decent and

unspoiled about Barbie, which made Charlie love her. She liked Charlie

too. He reminded her of some of the boys back home, and she found his

naivete refreshing. He was a nice change from the men she'd met in

Vegas and L.A who seemed to expect everything in the world from a girl,

from money to sex, and then some.

Charlie didn't want anything from her, except to be with her and spoil

her, and it was hard not to like that. And he wasn't a bad-looking

guy, even if he wasn't exciting. He had red hair and blue eyes, and

every inch of him was covered with freckles. He had a boy-next-door

quality about him that a lot of women found both endearing and

attractive, and it touched Barbie too. Sometimes she thought he might

be the solution to a lot of problems.

"Why don't you tell her what you think of her?" Judi encouraged him,

and then suddenly three weeks after they started going out, they were

engaged. And six months after that, Barbara was standing behind a

hedge at the Bel Air Hotel waiting for the signal that would start her

wedding.

"You okay?" Judi scrutinized her, as Barbie stood nervously, hopping

from one foot to the other, like a frightened racehorse.

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Don't you dare! It took me two hours to do your hair under that veil

. . . I'll kill you!"

"Okay, okay . . . Christ, Judi, I'm too old for this." She was thirty

years old, only one year older than Charlie, but sometimes she felt a

thousand years older. But when she wore less makeup, and just pulled

her hair back in a braid, she looked younger than he did. But she had

seen a lot more of life, and she was a lot more jaded. Only Charlie

saw the sweetness and purity beneath her flash. Only he was able to

reach a part of her she had been sure was gone forever. He invited her

to his apartment for his home-cooked meals, they went for long walks,

and he talked about wanting to meet her family, but she only shook her

head at that, and she never answered his questions. She didn't like

talking about them, and she said she was never going back to Salt Lake

City to see them, but she never explained it. She had been furious one

day when two Mormon missionaries had shown up at the apartment she

shared with Judi, trying to get her to come back to the Church and move

back to Salt Lake City. She had slammed the door on them, and shouted

at them never to come back again. She didn't want any reminders of the

life she had left behind in Salt Lake City. All Charlie knew was that

she had eight brothers and sisters and about twenty nephews and nieces,

but it was obvious to him that something had happened to her there,

other than boredom. But she absolutely refused to discuss it.

He was far more open about his own past. He had been abandoned at

birth in a train station, his records said, and had grown up in a

series of state orphanages in New Jersey. He had been in several

foster homes, and twice was considered for adoption, but he was a

nervous child, given to allergies and skin problems, and by the time he

was five, he had severe asthma. He outgrew most of it eventually, and

the asthma had been in control for years, but by the time it was, he

was too old for anyone to adopt him. He left the state home at

eighteen, took a bus to L.A and had been there for eleven years. He

had put himself through college at night, and his dream now was to go

to business school, which would allow him to get a better job and

support the family he longed for. For him, finding Barbie was like a

dream come true. All he wanted now was to marry her, give her a good

home, and fill it with children who looked just like her. He had said

that to her once, and she had laughed at him.

"We'd be a lot better off if they looked like you!" She was a pretty

girl, with an amazing figure, but she had never thought much of her

looks, or herself, until she met Charlie. He was so kind to her, so

protective, so unlike the men she had known, and yet sometimes she

still wished he were a little bit more exciting. She had wanted to go

out with an actor when she came to L.A maybe even someone famous.

And she had fallen for Charlie instead. And there were still times

when she wondered if she should wait for her dream prince, or at least

a famous actor. She had taken Charlie shopping to buy new clothes, and

tried to introduce him to the latest styles to jazz him up a little

bit, but in the end, she had had to agree with him, that on him they

just looked silly. He was just a plainclothes kind of guy. His hair

stuck up when he left it too long, so he had to cut it short, and he

never got a suntan, he just fried, and after that he blistered.

"I'm not a glamorous type, you understand," he had explained to her

seriously one night, over a dinner he had cooked for her. It was his

specialty, cannelloni and 0550 buco and a big tossed green salad. He

had actually learned to make it in one of his foster homes, he

explained to her, and her heart went out to him when he said it. There

were times when she really loved him, and other times when she wasn't

quite as sure, and she wondered. Was he right for her? Really, really

right? Or was he just generous and nice and convenient? She knew that

no harm would come to her with him. But neither would any glamour or

excitement.

Nothing was ever clear-cut in her life, the choices were always so damn

difficult; the prices to be paid so high, the risks so great . . .

except with Charlie. He was offering her everything, everything she

had thought she wanted years before or should now. Security, a nice

place to live, a nice guy to take care of her, no worries, no

headaches, no terror that she couldn't pay the rent this month, no fear

that things would go from bad to worse again and she'd have to get

another job as a showgirl. What she really wanted was an acting

career, and the agents who'd talked to her said she had talent. All

she needed now was a break. And she wasn't sure if Charlie would get

in the way of that. If she married him, could she still work? Would

he object to her career? He said he wouldn't, but he also talked about

kids all the time, and that wasn't in the cards for her, not for now,

not with him, not yet, and maybe even never. She didn't say that to

him, of course, but what if her big break came? What if she got a

regular part on a weekly show, or even a big part in an important

movie? Then where would she be with her little life? But if the big

break didn't come . . . at least she wouldn't be waiting on tables,

And maybe it was the wrong way to look at things. She felt guilty

about it sometimes, but she had to think about herself. She had

learned that lesson a long time ago, right in the bosom of her own

family. She had learned a lot of lessons from them, lessons she didn't

care to learn again, or even remember.

It was hard not to be swayed by Charlie's constancy, his adoration, his

devotion, his just plain decency, and in the end Barbie decided that

she really did love him. But now, standing here, it was terrifying all

over again. What if she was doing the wrong thing? What if they hated

each other in two years, or if it didn't even take that long? "Then

what'll I do?" she whispered to Judi.

"It's a little late to worry about that now, isn't it?" Judi said,

smoothing down her red lace dress. She had endless legs, and breasts

that were exploding out of her cleavage. She had had implants done in

Vegas by a doctor she knew there who gave her a great deal on the

surgery, and everyone she knew thought they were terrific. Except

Barbie, who had thought buying boobs was silly, because her own were

big, firm, and real. But hell, Judi told herself, from a distance, who

could tell the difference?

Barbie had a sensational figure, with her full bust in sharp contrast

to her tiny waist, which was so small that Charlie could put his hands

around it and almost touch his fingers. She wasn't tall, but she had

shapely legs. She was a striking-looking girl, and even in a burlap

bag, she would somehow have managed to look sexy. She just did, no

matter what she wore. And now in the short, tight, white satin wedding

gown, she was an overwhelming contrast of the innocent and the

erotic.

"Do you think my dress is too tight?" She looked nervously at Judi

again. She felt as though they'd been waiting forever.

She didn't know why they couldn't just have gone to City Hall, but

Charlie had insisted he wanted a "real" wedding.

This wedding had meant everything to him, so she'd gone along with it

for his sake. She would have been a lot happier spending the weekend

in Reno. But Charlie had planned everything, and invited all his

friends. They were having sixty guests, and she knew this was the

fanciest hotel in L.A.except maybe the Beverly Hills Hotel, she had

told him, but he had insisted this one was even better. They'd chosen

the least expensive menu, and the simplest plan, but he'd wanted their

wedding here, even if it wiped out most of his savings. "You deserve

it," he'd said to Barbie.

"Your dress is fine," Judi reassured her, and she honestly thought the

other girl looked terrific. Scared, but very pretty.

"Everything's gonna be okay, kid. Just relax." She was beginning to

wonder what the delay was, and then finally Charlie's best man

appeared, and the music began. Charlie had hired a bass, a violinist,

and an electric piano for the occasion.

They played "Here Comes the Bride," and Judi looked toward the little

gazebo that had been set up for the occasion.

Charlie had found a minister somewhere, and he hadn't asked Barbie too

many questions about being a Mormon, so she had finally agreed to let

him do the wedding.

And then Mark, the best man, offered Barbie his arm, and looked down at

her with a fatherly smile. He was twice Charlie's age, and heavyset.

He had been Charlie's supervisor at work for two years, and in some

ways, he was almost like his father. He was still a good-looking man,

although he was overweight, and little rivers of perspiration were

running down the sides of his face from the neatly combed gray hair at

his temples.

He looked very serious as he bent toward Barbie just before they began

their walk toward the gazebo.

"Good luck, Barbara . . . Everything's going to be just fine." He

patted her hand, and she tried not to let herself think of her

father.

"Thanks, Mark." He had agreed to give the bride away, and be best

man.

He had also given them all their champagne, because his brother-in-law

knew a wholesaler with a terrific source in the Napa Valley. He wanted

everything to be right for them. He was divorced himself, and had two

daughters, one married, and the other in college.

They started off down the aisle, and Barbara tried not to think of what

lay ahead, the wedding, or the years of commitment. And then suddenly

there he was . . . Charlie looking so sweet and innocent and young,

with his blue eyes and red hair and sweet smile. He was wearing a

white dinner jacket with a white carnation on the lapel, and he looked

like a kid who had borrowed the jacket from his father for the senior

prom. It was hard to be afraid of him, or of committing her life to

him. And as Mark squeezed her hand encouragingly, she suddenly

realized that all her fears were incredibly foolish. No harm would

come to her as Charlie's wife. She was doing the right thing, and

suddenly she knew it.

"I love you," he whispered as she stood at his side, and as she looked

at him, she realized that she really loved him. He was doing something

wonderful for her, he was giving her a beautiful new life, and offering

to protect her forever. No one had ever done anything like that for

her, and she knew, as she looked at him, that he would never fail

her.

She was suddenly sorry for all the doubts she'd had, all the fears, all

the times she had secretly thought she could do better. He was just

right for her, a good friend, a good man, a good husband, and she had

been a fool to want more. She was thirty years old, and Prince

Charming was obviously otherwise engaged somewhere on another planet.

Charlie Winwood was enough of a prince for her, she didn't need more

than that, didn't want more than he had to offer.

"I love you, Charlie," she whispered to him as he put the ring on her

finger, and when he kissed her, he cried, and she held him close to

her, wanting to make up to him for all the loneliness in his life and

all the sorrow.

"I love you so much, Barb There were no words to tell her how much he

loved her.

"I promise, I'll be a good wife . . . I really will "I know you will,

sweet girl." He smiled at her, and later he toasted her with Mark's

champagne, and then led her out on the temporary dance floor. They had

set a small dance floor out on the lawn, and there was a buffet near

the bar, just beyond the music.

It was a terrific party and everyone had a good time, particularly the

bride and groom, both of whom drank handsomely of Mark's champagne, as

did all the other guests. And Mark seemed to be having a good time,

dancing withJudi. Everyone was in high spirits by the time the band

started playing things like "When the Saints Go Marching In" and "Hava

Nagila."

Afterward, they played some slow music again, to get everyone calmed

down and cooled off. They played "Moon River," and Mark asked the

bride to dance, while Charlie danced with Judi.

"You're a beautiful bride, Barb," Mark told her as they danced slowly

around the floor. There were a million stars in the sky, and it was

warm. It was a magical evening. "You two are going to have a

wonderful life," he said with certainty.

"And a lot of gorgeous kids to show for it," he announced with

assurance.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, smiling at him. He was a nice

man, and a good friend.

"Because I'm so old, and I know so much. And I know how much Charlie

wants children." She knew it, too, but she had already told Charlie

that she wanted to wait a few years, so she could pursue her career as

an actress. He wasn't thrilled with that idea, but they had both

agreed to talk about it later. He didn't know it yet, but having kids

was the one thing that really scared her. And even Mark talking about

it now gave her a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"May I cut in?" Charlie smoothly interrupted Mark, and handed Judi

over to him, as he made off with his bride for the last dances of the

evening. They had both had a lot to drink, but Barbie felt as though

she were in a dream, and all of the people there seemed so happy. "Did

you have a good time?" he asked as he nuzzled her neck, feeling her

breasts pressing against him. Every time he touched her it just drove

him crazy, and she loved to have a good time. She never said no, she

never objected to anything he wanted to do, she was a good sport, and a

hell of a sexy woman. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world as he

twirled his bride around the dance floor.

"I had a great time." She grinned happily at him. "What about you?"

"Best wedding I ever had." He smiled at her. They were almost the

same height, and he looked her in the eye, feeling as though he owned

the world.

"That's not saying much." She pretended to pout, and he pulled her

even closer.

"You know how happy I am, Barb . . . at least I hope you do. For me,

this is the dream of a lifetime." It was the beginning of everything

he never had. The love, the warmth, the home, the family, everything

he had so desperately wanted.

"I know," she whispered, and her head swam dizzily as he kissed her.

All she could think of now was lying on the beach at Waikiki with

him.

They were leaving for Hawaii in the morning on a great package deal.

And they were spending their wedding night in Charlie's apartment. The

had talked about spending their wedding night at the Bel Air, but they

just couldn't afford it, and she didn't care. She already knew that

she would never, ever forget this night or this moment.

In Santa Barbara that night, there was a star-filled sky, too, as

twenty-five friends stood silently watching Pilar Graham and Bradford

Coleman kiss in the moonlight. There was a long silence and then they

turned to look at their friends, with a startled, happy look, and

everyone laughed and cheered and applauded. Marina Goletti, the judge

who had performed the ceremony, declared them man and wife, and they

were instantly surrounded by well-wishers.

"What took you so long?" a friend of Brad's teased.

"We were practicing," Pilar said in a dignified voice, as the white

silk Grecian gown molded her long, lithe figure. She swam and

exercised every day, and Bradford liked to tell her that she had the

body of a young girl. She was a beautiful woman and she was proud of

the thick, straight gray hair that hung to her shoulders. It had been

almost white since her early twenties, and she had worn it that way for

almost twenty years now.

"Thirteen years is a long time to practice!"

One of her law partners, Alice Jackson, whispered to her, "We're glad

you finally figured it out and married Brad." She smiled.

"Yeah." Her other partner, Bruce Hemmings, added, "I know, you two

just didn't want any scandal now that Brad's been made a judge."

"You got that right." Brad's deep voice rang out just next to her, as

he gave Pilar's shoulders a squeeze. "I didn't want anyone accusing

her of sleeping with the judge to get special favors."

"As though you'd be that good to me!" Pilar teased right back, as she

leaned her body against him. Everything about them suggested the

comfortable and intimate and familiar.

And the interesting truth was that they had been archenemies for three

years, after Pilar had graduated from law school and moved to Santa

Barbara. She'd gotten a job as a public defender and he'd been a

prosecutor, and it seemed as though every major criminal case that came

up pitted them against each other. She hated his ideas, his politics,

his style, his relentless way of hammering at a case until he won, or

simply wore down the jury. And more than once, their tempers had

flared and they'd had raging battles in the hall outside the

courtroom.

They'd been called to order by the bench more than once, and Pilar had

almost spent a night in jail for contempt of court when she'd called

Brad a bastard in front of a judge once. But Brad had been so amused

by her attack that time that he had compounded matters even more by

inviting her to dinner as soon as court was recessed.

"Are you insane? Did you hear what I said?" she had asked him as they

made their way out of the courtroom. She was still trembling with

anger over his style in trying a rape case.

"You still have to eat. And your client is guilty and you know it."

She did know it, and she was uncomfortable, but someone still had to

defend him, to the best of his or her ability, and that was her job,

whether Brad Coleman liked it or not.

"I'm not going to discuss my client's innocence or guilt with you, Mr.

Coleman. That's improper. Is that why you want me to have dinner with

you? So you can get me to admit something you'll use against me?" She

was furious with him, and she didn't give a damn if he was

attractive.

He was the Cary Grant of the prosecutor's office. He was in his late

forties, had snowwhite hair, and all the women in her office talked

constantly about how handsome he was, and how sexy. Pilar Graham was

not interested in that, not with him. As far as she was concerned,

this was strictly business.

"I wouldn't stoop to that," Bradford Coleman said quietly, "and I think

you know that. I wish you worked in our office, instead of for the

public defender. I'd like to be on the same side of a case with you

sometime. We could do one hell of a lot of damage to the

opposition."

She had to smile at what he said, and she was flattered by his words,

but she didn't go to dinner. She knew he was a widower and he had

kids, and she knew he was universally liked. But all she could see

when she saw him was her opponent. She never allowed herself to see

more than that, until they were once again adversaries in an

illustrious case that had been smeared all over the papers. It was a

big murder case, and unfortunately, the press had grabbed onto it, and

were making as much of it as they could, and it was very ugly. A young

girl was involved, accused of murdering her mother's lover. She said

the lover had tried to rape her, but there was no evidence of it, and

the mother sided against her. The testimony was long and arduous in

that trial, the lawyers' tactics brutal, and then halfway through the

trial, Bradford Coleman had come to her, quietly, simply, and told her

that due to new evidence, he had come to believe that her client wasn't

guilty. He asked for a recess, and became the champion of the young

girl's cause. It was his skill and his careful investigation that had

freed the girl, Pilar always said, not her own work. She had gotten

nowhere. And it was then that they had finally had dinner. After

three long years. Nothing ever came easily to them, or quickly.

His children had been thirteen and ten by then. Nancy was thirteen,

and Todd ten, and from the moment they met Pilar, they resisted the

idea that she was going out with their father.

Their mother had been dead for five years and they had had Brad

exclusively to themselves ever since then. They had no intention of

giving him up, even part time, to another woman.

At first, the children made life difficult for them, and although Brad

and Pilar really were just friends, the children still sensed that

something more might develop, and they wanted to stop it. Brad was

deeply saddened by their attitude, but Pilar was only sorry for him.

Whether it be her or someone else, he needed something more in his life

than his work and his children. And the more she came to know him, the

more she respected him, the more impressed she was with his mind and

his skill and his soul, his unfailing sense of fairness and

integrity.

He was even more remarkable than people had told her.

And before she knew it, she was head over heels in love with him and he

with her, and they had no idea what to do about his children.

"Never mind your children, what about my work? I can't take cases

against you anymore, Brad. It wouldn't be ethical or good for us."

Eventually, he agreed with her, and they disqualified themselves when

they were slated against each other on a case, and within a year, she

went into general private practice and she loved it. He eventually

went into private practice as well, and their lives were busy and full,

and in the end, even the children got used to their relationship.

And little by little, the children grew fond of her, and came to accept

her. It had been a long, hard war to win them over to her, but when

Nancy was sixteen and Todd thirteen, three years after their romance

had begun, Pilar Graham moved in with Bradford Coleman.

They bought a new house in Montecito eventually, and the children grew

up. Nancy went off to college, and Todd to boarding school, and by

then friends had stopped asking them when they were going to get

married. They saw no need for it.

They had his children, and Pilar had never wanted any of her own. She

felt no need to have a piece of paper to prove anything, Pilar

explained when pressed. As far as she was concerned, she was married

to Brad in her heart, and that was the only place that mattered.

They went on that way, comfortably, for thirteen years, and when Brad

was sixty-one, and Pilar forty-two, he was appointed judge of the

Superior Court of Santa Barbara. And suddenly they both realized that

it could become awkward for him to be living with a woman to whom he

wasn't married.

Particularly if the press made an issue of it, which they might.

They'd already made several comments.

Pilar looked crestfallen as they discussed it one morning over

breakfast. "Do you think I should move out?"

He sat back in his chair, holding the New York Times and looking amused

as he looked at her. She was as pretty at fortytwo as she had been at

twenty-six, the first time she was his opponent in the courtroom.

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

"Well, I don't want to cause trouble for you." She looked very upset

as she poured them both another cup of coffee.

"Can't you think of another solution, counselor? I can.

"What?" She looked blank. She really couldn't.

"I'm glad you're not my attorney, Ms. Graham. Has it ever occurred to

you that we could get married? Or if you still have an aversion to

that idea, I don't know why our living together has to create any real

scandal. I'm sure judges are allowed to live with people too. They're

only human."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you." He had such a spotless

reputation, it seemed foolish to hurt it.

"Then what about marriage?"

She was silent for a long time as she looked out at the sea. "I don't

know. I've never really thought about it . . . or not in a long time

anyway. Have you?"

"No, because you never wanted to. But I could have." He had always

wanted to marry her, but she had always been so determined to stay

free, to be two separate entities side by side or intertwined, but not

"swallowed up by each other" or "devoured," as she used to put it. And

at first, of course, his children might have objected, but no more.

Nancy had married the year before and was twenty-six years old by then,

nd Todd was twenty-three, a grown man, and working in Chicago.

"Would it be so terrible to be married now?" he asked with a shy

smile, and Pilar hesitated before she answered.

"At our age?" She looked genuinely startled, as though he had

suggested something truly odd, like leaping out of an airplane with a

parachute, something she had never even considered.

"Is there an age limit on it now? I had no idea," he teased, and she

smiled.

"Okay, okay . . ." She sighed and leaned back in her chair again. "I

don't know . . . it just scares me. Everything has been so wonderful

for all these years, why change it now?

What if it ruins everything?"

"You always say that. But why would it do that? Would you change?

Would I?"

"I don't know." She looked at him seriously. "Would you?"

"Why should I, Pilar? I love you. I'd like nothing better than to

marry you, and maybe this is just the excuse we needed."

"But why? Other than your appointment to the bench, of course. What's

the point? What difference will it make to anyone? And why is it

anyone's business?"

"It isn't. It's our business. But I want you to be my wife." He

leaned toward her and took her hands in his and then he kissed her. "I

love you, Pilar Graham. I will love you till the day I die. I would

like you to become my wife, whether I am on the bench or not. What do

you think about that?"

"I think you're crazy." She smiled at him, and then kissed him

again.

"Too much stress at the office. Besides, I like being a little out of

the ordinary. I liked having gray hair when I was twenty-five, I never

minded not having children when everyone else had one in a backpack and

another one in a stroller, I like working for a living, and I don't

mind not being married."

"Why not? You should be ashamed to be living in sin like this.

Have you no conscience?"

"None whatsoever. They forced me to give it up when I passed the

bar."

"I always knew that about you. Well, give it some thought now, he had

suggested casually. And that had been just before Christmas. And for

the next six months they had discussed it and talked about it, and

argued over it, and he had finally sworn that he wouldn't marry her if

she begged him. And one evening in May she totally amazed him.

"I've been thinking about it," she said as she made him an espresso

after dinner.

"About what?" He didn't know what she was saying.

"About us." He waited for a beat, suddenly worried. She was very

independent, and she was capable of anything, any wild decision she had

come to on her own and then decided was important. "I think we should

get married." She looked matter-of-fact and handed him his coffee, but

he was too startled to take it as he stared at her.

"You what? After all those arguments you gave me over Christmas . .

what in God's name made you change your mind?"

"Nothing. I just decided that you might be right, and it might be

time." She had thought about it a lot, and it was hard to admit to him

that somewhere deep inside of her there was suddenlyayearning . . . to

be his . . . to be part of him . .

forever. . .

"What ever made you think that?"

"I don't know." She looked noncommittal and he grinned.

"You're crazy, you know. Completely crazy. And I love you.

He came around the counter and took her in his arms and kissed her. "I

love you very, very much, whether you marry me or not. Do you want

some more time to think about this?"

"I think you'd better not give me much time." She grinned.

"I might change my mind. I think we'd better get it over with

quickly." She made it sound difficult and painful.

"I promise I'll make it as easy as I can." He was ecstatic. They

picked a date in June and called the children, who were thrilled, too,

and they promised to come, whenever it was.

They seemed sincerely happy for them. They picked ten couples who

meant a great deal to them, and a few unattached friends, her law

partners, two of his colleagues, among them Marina Goletti, Pilar's

best friend, to perform the ceremony, and of course, Pilar's mother.

Both of Brad's parents had been dead for years and Pilar's mother was a

widow. She lived and worked in New York, but she had promised to come

out for the wedding, "if you go through with it," she said skeptically,

which suitably annoyed her daughter.

But true to his word, Brad handled everything, and had his secretary

send out the invitations. All Pilar had to do was find a dress, and

she, her stepdaughter, Nancy, and Marina Goletti went shopping for

it.

Pilar was so unglued by the whole idea that the other two almost had to

try dresses on for her. But in the end, she found a beautiful Mary

McFadden gown of tiny ivory silk pleats, and she looked like a Greek

goddess when she put it on. And when the day came, she wore her hair

up, with soft tendrils falling near her face, and tiny white flowers

woven into it. She looked exquisite, and as she turned to their guests

after the ceremony, she looked ecstatic.

"See, it wasn't so bad," Brad whispered to her, as they stood slightly

apart, watching their friends have a good time. As always, there was a

silent, peaceful bond between them. They had an understanding that had

surpassed everything for the past thirteen years; opposition and stress

and fear and loneliness and hatred. It was a band of love that brought

them together and kept them there, against life's winds, safe in each

other's harbor. "Did you do it for me, or for them?" he asked

gently.

"It's funny," she said quietly. "I did it for myself, in the end."

She hadn't meant to tell him that, but it seemed right now. "All of a

sudden I just needed to be married to you, and I knew it."

"That's a nice thing to say." He took a step closer to her and held

her close to him. "I needed to be married to you, too, Pilar. I have

for a long time. But I didn't want to press you.

"You've always been so good to me about that. It means a lot to me. I

guess I just needed time." She smiled sheepishly and he laughed. It

was a good thing she had never wanted children.

If they had to wait another thirteen years for them, it could have been

quite a problem.

"This is the right time," he said gently. "This is when it was meant

to be. I love you." As he said it, he looked down at her, puzzled.

"Who are you, by the way? Mrs. Coleman? Or Miss Graham?"

"I hadn't thought about that. I'm not sure that at my age I could

change it. Forty-two years as Graham is a little hard to wipe out in a

single afternoon. She saw something sad but resigned in his eyes

then.

"But on the other hand . . . maybe in another thirteen years . . .

tell you what, why not go for the big time?"

"Coleman?" He looked amazed and touched. It had been an extraordinary

day in their household.

"Mrs. Coleman," she said softly. "Pilar Coleman." She smiled at him,

looking like a young girl, and he kissed her again and then led her

back to their friends in the midst of celebration.

"Congratulations, Pilar," her mother said, as she smiled at her over a

glass of champagne, which she held in a graceful hand. Elizabeth

Graham was still beautiful at sixty-seven. She had been practicing

neurology in New York for nearly forty years, and she had no other

children. Pilar's father had been a justice of the New York Court of

Appeals, and had been killed at the height of his career in a plane

crash, while Pilar was in law school.

"You surprised us all today," her mother said coolly, and Pilar smiled

at her. She had matured enough over the years not to take the bait or

lose her temper when her mother goaded her, which she seemed to do

fairly often.

"Life is full of wonderful surprises." Pilar smiled at Brad, and over

his shoulder at Marina. Since the first moment they'd met, when Pilar

came to Santa Barbara, Marina Goletti had been like a mother to her,

and it meant a lot to Pilar that it had been Marina who performed their

wedding. She was one of Brad's colleagues on the bench, but she had

been Pilar's friend long, long before that. They had worked together

in the public defender's office for six months, and then Marina had

become a judge. But by then, she was already a dear friend, and a

substitute for the mother Pilar had never been close to.

Pilar's relationship with her mother had always been strained, and it

was no secret to anyone that Pilar had almost never seen her parents.

They were busy with their careers, and Pilar had found herself sent

away to boarding school at the age of seven. She was brought home on

holidays and "grilled," as she had described it to Brad, about what she

had learned, how fluent was her French, and would she please explain

the reason for her most recent math grade. They were strangers to her,

although her father had at least made some small effort during their

vacations. But even he had very little to say to her, he was far too

involved in his work, as was her mother. She had made it clear to

Pilar at an early age that what she did with her patients was far more

important than any involvement she might have with her only daughter.

"I could never 'understand why they had children," she had told Brad

from the first. "I was never sure if I was a mistake, or just an

experiment that hadn't worked out for them. But whatever I was, it was

always clear that I was not exactly what they had wanted. My father

was relieved when I went into law. I think it was the first time he

was actually reassured that they hadn't made a terrible mistake having

me in the first place.

They didn't even bother to come to my graduations before that. And of

course my mother was furious that I wasn't interested in medicine, but

I can't say she ever made it very appealing." In effect, Pilar had

grown up in schools. She had once jokingly said to one of her law

partners that she was institutionalized, just like some of the people

she had defended who had grown up in prisons. And for whatever reason,

the coolness of her parents' relationship, their indifference to her,

and the politics of her own times had made marriage unappealing to her,

and having children something she would never even consider. She

didn't want anyone to live a life like hers, and she had no idea how to

bring a child up herself. She had had no example in her own

childhood.

In fact, it had amazed her when she first saw Brad with his children.

He was so natural with them, so open, so unafraid, they talked about

everything, and he was so demonstrative, and so easily able to show

emotion. Pilar couldn't even imagine having a relationship like that

with anyone, certainly not a child, until little by little, Brad had

helped her to open up to what she felt, and share it with those she

cared about. In time, she had grown to be completely at ease with his

children, and with him. But it still never led her to want children of

her own. And seeing her mother now, even on her wedding day, reminded

her again of how deeply her parents had failed her.

"You look lovely today, Pilar," her mother said awkwardly, almost as

though she were speaking to an acquaintance, or a stranger. She was

completely unable to let anyone in on the deep mystery of her feelings,

or whether she even had any to just an experiment that hadn't worked

out for them. But whatever I was, it was always clear that I was not

exactly what they had wanted. My father was relieved when I went into

law. I think it was the first time he was actually reassured that they

hadn't made a terrible mistake having me in the first place.