The Baby Dilemma

She ran to the study to look up Roger’s number. Before she could find it on the card Philippe kept at the side of his desk, the phone rang.

Pouncing on the receiver, she put it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Madame Didier?” came a serious sounding voice.

A sense of foreboding set her on the verge of panic. Her mouth went dry. “Yes? This is she.”

“I’m calling from the emergency room at Vaudois Hospital. Your husband is going to be fine, but he was in an automobile accident and is asking for you.”

Oh Dear God.

“I’ll be right there!” she cried.

After hanging up, she rang for a taxi.

Kellie could have taken the new little sports car Philippe had bought her for a wedding present. It was sitting in the apartment garage. But she didn’t know the location of the hospital, and didn’t want to worry about finding a place to park. In truth, she was shaking so hard she didn’t know if she’d be able to drive.

Another dash through the rooms to get her purse and turn off the oven, then she left the apartment on a run. Too impatient to wait for the lift, she hurried down the four flights of stairs to the main floor in her high heels and rushed outside, oblivious to the nip in the air.

When she saw a taxi turn the corner, she ran out to the street and waved him down. After climbing in she said, “The Vaudois Hospital, please, monsieur.”

“Oui, madame.”

She hugged her arms to her waist anxiously. If he’d sustained serious injuries, the person on the phone wouldn’t have said Philippe was all right. Still, she wouldn’t be able to breathe normally again until she could hold him and see him with her own eyes.

“Please hurry. My husband has been in an accident. Let me off at the entrance to the emergency room,” she said in French to the driver. He nodded, but didn’t accelerate that much through the moderate nighttime traffic. Switzerland was a very dignified, civilized country with few drivers who took dangerous risks.

She couldn’t say the same for Philippe who was French born. According to his family with whom she’d lived for a month near the Bois de Vincennes in Paris, he’d been a daredevil from birth.

Apparently he’d raced cars in his early twenties and drove at speeds that terrified most people. His sister, Claudine, Kellie’s dear friend, had confided that though he may have abandoned that pleasure once he’d discovered his great love for mountain climbing, he could still let it rip once in a while testing out one of the new sports models fresh from the plant. If that’s what he’d done tonight, then it was too high a price to pay.

When she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, they reached the hospital where she could see several ambulances outside the doors. The sight of them enlarged the pit in her stomach.

“We’re here, madame.”

“Merci, monsieur.” She climbed out of the taxi, handing him several bills of Swiss francs without bothering to count how much she’d given him. Then she raced inside the entrance.

The reception room was packed with friends and family of casualty victims talking quietly. Their anxiety-ridden faces revealed their stress. As she approached the woman at the desk, Kellie happened to see herself in the glass and knew her expression was no different.

“Excuse me. I’m Madame Didier. My husband, Philippe, was brought in tonight. Where can I find him?”

“Through there on the left. He’s been put in cubicle four.”

“Thank you,” Kellie whispered before hurrying through the swinging doors to the E.R. Again she was struck by the amount of activity going on. Medical staff, paramedics, even police came and went from the busy room. It looked as if every cubicle was in use. Behind the curtain of the first one she could hear a woman wailing in pain.

Full of gratitude it wasn’t Philippe in that kind of agony, she ran to number four and parted the curtain to reach her husband. He was awake, thank heaven! She flew to his side where he lay in a hospital gown beneath a pristine white sheet.

“Philippe?”

“Mon amour— I thought you’d never get here.”

His deep voice sounded so shaken, it astounded her. Philippe was the kind of man whose intelligence and strong personality inspired confidence in everyone around him. Not only physically powerful, he exuded an inner male strength and drive that made him seem invincible.

“I came the second they phoned me, darling,” she cried, utterly thrown by his vulnerability. “I’ve been home waiting hours for you to arrive.”

Beneath his beautiful olive skin there was an unnatural pallor, but the devilishly handsome face with those black-brown eyes and black hair she loved was still the same.

“Mon Dieu. You’re so beautiful, it hurts.” In a swift motion he lifted his right arm to draw her head down, but she noticed he didn’t try to use his left one at all. She was so preoccupied about that, she wasn’t prepared for his kiss which was almost savage in its intensity.

Since they’d been married, they’d made love day and night, under every circumstance and condition. But her husband had never embraced her as if it were going to be their last.

“Philippe, sweetheart—” she whispered after he’d unwillingly relinquished her lips. “I can tell your left arm is hurt.”

“My elbow got banged. It’s nothing.”

Her anxious eyes played over him. “What else is wrong with you?”

“A bump on my left kneecap.”

“Oh, darling,” she moaned. “Let me see.”

“There’s no need. From what the doctor told me, neither is broken, just bruised. They’ll take some X rays in a while to be certain. I’m waiting my turn. Before they come for me, there’s something we have to talk about.”

Again she felt this sense of foreboding. After taking a shuddering breath she said, “All right.”

She heard him invoke God’s help before he murmured, “Maybe you’d better sit down.”

With those fateful words, Kellie needed support. She saw a stool by the shelving and moved it next to the bed where she could prop herself. Grasping his right hand which she kissed and held to her cheek she said, “What’s this terrible thing you have to tell me?”

His expression grew bleak before his eyes filled with pleading.

“Sweetheart?” she begged, unable to stand the suspense another second.

He cleared his throat. “When we took our vows, we promised to love each other for better or worse.”

“We do! I do!”

“I never intended for there to be a ‘for worse’ in our marriage,” his voice grated.

“But there is?” She swallowed hard.

“Kellie, I don’t know how to say this.”

“Say what?” she demanded in agony, freeing her hand to run her fingers through his dark wavy hair. “Don’t you know you can tell me anything?”

His eyes looked haunted. “Late this afternoon while I was finishing up some work at the office so I could get home to you, I had a visitor. It was a woman I rescued after an avalanche in Chamonix months before I met you.”

Kellie didn’t need to hear another word to feel as if she’d been dropped from a high building.