in his thirties, stocky and good-looking, full of good-humor. He had
managed to avoid marriage, though some of his obstetrics patients made a
habit of proposing.
“Well,” he told Sunny, “if that’s not a baby in there, you’ll make
medical history.”
She hugged herself with a happy laugh. “Thank you, Doctor!”
“Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it, I’m sorry to say,” he told
her with a grin.
She went home that evening ready to tease Page frantic before she told
him the news. But when he got home he cut her off with big news of his
own.
“Sunny, don’t say a word!” he said as he came in the door. “Guess what?”
“That was my line,” she said as he carried her into the bedroom and
lowered her into the pillows. “You couldn’t have been promoted again?
Back to Chicago?”
He fell on top of her, laughing. “Better!” She began to squirm under his
weight and to wonder if it would hurt the baby. “They want me to write
my own column.”
She stopped wiggling. “Darling! The Trib?” she cried.
“No, the _Sunday Magazine_. Almost two million circulation. Imagine,
honey—a magazine. I get a byline and my picture, every damn week of the
year. One of their editors has been following my feature stuff and liked
it. We’re in New York a half year and this happens. I knew this was my
town. Goddam!”
“What will you write about?” she said.
“Whatever comes into my head. You, for example. You inspire me.” He
gathered her in his arms and kissed her triumphantly. “Oh, baby,” he
murmured. “If it weren’t for you, I’d never have gotten this. Or if I
had, it wouldn’t have meant anything. Nobody in the world matters to me
but you. You make everything so right, Sunny. I’ll write every word for
you. That way I know it’ll be good.”
She felt a few tears coming on; the kind that take a smile beyond its
natural borders.
“You’re ashamed of me!” he exclaimed.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, making your wife cry,” she said,
laughing at the same time. “As a matter of fact, I had something to tell
you, but I don’t think I’d better. So much good news would be bad for
you.”
“Try me.” He got up and went into the kitchen. “How about a toast?
Scotch or whiskey?” he called.
“Scotch,” she answered, sitting up and feeling her abdomen with new
care.
“Honey, let’s call your family,” he said. “Your dad would love to know.
He’s been great to me, as if I were part of the family.”
“Well, you are, goofy,” Sunny said, leaning against the kitchen door and
accepting her drink from him.
“To us,” he said, lifting his glass. “My favorite people.” They clinked
glasses and drank, watching each other, too happy to feel sensible.
“Oh, honey,” he said, overcome with her beauty, her love for him. “Honey
baby, I love you so.” He pulled her tight to him and moved against her,
slowly, rhythmically, guiding her hand in an intimate caress.
She responded with pleasure; subjecting herself to his will with sensual
delight. And then, equally feminine, she took advantage of his mood to
whisper, “Let’s call your family, too.”
“Don’t spoil it,” he said softly.
“My father isn’t the only one who cares about you.”
“Nothing doing.” He dropped her hand. “Dad would take it for a peace
treaty.”
“He’s earned it.”
Page finished his drink, ignoring her. “Oh God, I forgot. You started to
tell me something. What was it, honey?”
She let herself be sidetracked, too excited to keep still. “Your
charming wife ...” she said seductively, and kissed his mouth.
“My charming wife,” he repeated, grabbing her again, “has been elected
Miss Dill Pickle in Pratfall, Indiana.”
“No.” She grinned at him. “I’m going to make you the happiest man in the
world next August.”
“What’s wrong with now?” Suddenly he stiffened. “What? _Sunny!_ My God!
Are you ... expecting?”
“Yes.” She glowed at him.
“Are you sure?” His voice dwindled to a whisper.
“Dr. Settick says so.”
“Who’s he?”
“My obstetrician. Laura recommended him.”
“He’d better be the best damn—”
“He is.”
“Oh, darling. This is too much.” He put his arms around her, so proud
and amazed that his voice cracked like an adolescent’s.
“If you weren’t such a good writer and such a good husband,” she told
him, “you’d never have gotten us into this mess.”
“Some mess,” he said ardently. It was a long time and a lot of gentle
kisses before either of them moved. “And it won’t be any poor little
unwanted bastard, either,” Page said. “This is the most wanted baby
anybody ever had. My child. My son. How can I wait till August?”
“Let’s call Hillsburg,” she said. “Just think, Chuckie will be an uncle
at the tender age of eleven. He’ll love that!”
“No, let’s not call tonight,” Page said. “Tomorrow you can tell the
whole world, but tonight I want just us to know.”
She was touched by the idea.
“If it’s a boy we’ll name it Ben,” he said. “Your dad will bust his
buttons.” He led her back toward the bed.
“Oh, it’s a girl, I can tell. And your dinner’s burning up on the stove.
We’ll name her Katherine and call her Kate.”
“The hell with dinner,” he said, easing her down on the bed. “And Kate
is too old-fashioned.”
He undressed her with hands that adored her lovely fresh body, her
fragrant curves and slopes, her warmth. He pressed his big hands
together side by side on her little belly, smothering it, and said in an
awed tone, “God. Think how tiny it is. How alive.”
She reached for him and pulled him down on top of her.
“Honey, no. I’m too heavy,” he protested anxiously, but she smiled and
silenced him with kisses.
* * * * *
They planned to call the Rothelis the next night at six, but chance
fouled their neat timing; chance or fate, heaven or hell—whatever
controls these things. This was the night for the sky to fall and
shatter their lives.
At five minutes to six, their phone rang. It was George Pringle, Page’s
step-father. Sunny came in from the kitchen and picked up the phone.
Page, looking at the paper, saw her look at him cautiously.
“My parents?” he guessed aloud. She nodded, speaking fond trivialities
into the receiver. He could tell she was worried about what he would say
to them.
What the hell, he thought. I’ll tell them the news. This is no night for
harsh words. Maybe Sunny’s right, it’s time to sign the treaty.
He surprised himself. He hadn’t planned any reconciliation. But he was
full of a new self-assurance, a gratitude that took in the whole world.
The Pringles’ call happened to come at a lucky time. He could talk to
his step-father man to man now, and he would.
He took the phone Sunny held out to him and whispered, “Don’t worry,
honey, I’ll be nice to him.”
But she shook her head. “Your father’s worried about something. He
didn’t call you just for a chat. He has too much pride for that.”
She was right. Page frowned at her as he spoke. “Dad?” he said in a
friendly voice.
The elder Pringle answered at once and the words seemed to tumble out of
him pell-mell, more breath than voice. “Page, my son, I have something
to tell you. You remember—”
“Sorry, Dad, I can’t hear you very well,” Page said, wondering if his
mother had taken a bad turn. “You sound like you have bad news.”
“Yes, I’m afraid—”
“Then let me give you our good news first. We were just going to call
you.”
“You were?” Pringle was frankly skeptical, and it made Page feel guilty.
“Two things,” Page said. “I’m going to do a column for the _Sunday
Magazine_. Got the offer yesterday. Byline, picture, and all.”
Silence. Page frowned again. “Dad? What do you think of that?”
“I’m delighted for you, Page,” his father said in a curiously weak
voice.
“Well, if that doesn’t get you, how about this: Sunny’s going to have a
baby! In August.” Another queer silence. “Dad, for God’s sake!” Page
said irritably. “Don’t you hear me?... Dad, are you there?” The
irritation verged suddenly on alarm.
“Yes, Page, I’m here. Are you _sure_ about Sunny?”
“Sure I’m sure. She saw the doc yesterday.... Well, _say_ something. Say
it’s great. Say you’re happy for us. Or aren’t you?”
“Page....”
“Dad, tell me, is something wrong?”
“My boy, I have to tell you this. I’d have given anything in my life to
spare you, especially now,” Pringle said. “But you must be told. I mean,
now that Sunny—”
“Told what?”
“Page, you’ve got to believe me—”
“Well, damn it, _tell_ me!” Page demanded.
Sunny felt a sharp foreboding, seeing the concern on Page’s face. She
sat down in an easy chair where she could follow the talk. Page began to
pale as he listened to his father.
“You remember Dr. Blue?” Pringle was saying.
“Sure I remember him,” Page said. And in a sudden sick flash, away in
the back of his frightened soul, he saw what was coming.
“Well, your mother wanted to see him again. She has for some time, as
you’ve guessed. She trusts him, and lately, with you gone and our life
so restricted, she wanted to patch things up a bit.” He related these
old problems awkwardly. “We talked it over and I decided if it would
cheer her up a little, it was worth calling him in. Let bygones be
bygone. I’m not a man to carry a grudge to my grave.”
“Yes,” Page said, seized by a wish to hang up, to stem the stream of
words.
“He was glad to hear from us,” Pringle went on, “and he came to see your
mother yesterday. They had a lot to talk about. They talked mostly about
you, Page. Mother told him you were married now. To Sunny Rotheli....”
“Oh.” His tongue felt sticky dry. “Well, I’ll bet he was glad to hear
I’ve settled down. He had me figured for a burglar when he caught me in
his office that time.”
“Page,” his step-father said in a trembling voice. “There’s no way to
break this to you gently. I—I....”
“Dad ... did he tell you who I am? Do you know who I am, Dad?” That had
to be it. Page felt himself shaking, and Sunny, watching him, shook too.
Her hands were knotted in her skirt, soaking the cloth with her
perspiration.
Pringle cleared his throat. “You are Sunny’s brother,” he said.
Four words. They shot across the wires like electric darts and paralyzed
Page. He stood gripping the phone, staring stupidly at the floor, unable
to make sense. “I’m what?” he said faintly at last.
“You are Sunny’s brother. You are a Rotheli. You were christened Roger
Rotheli. Page, do you understand me? Sunny is your _sister_.”
Page went dead white. His jaw slackened and he turned slowly to stare at
Sunny. “That’s impossible,” he whispered.
“It seems the Rothelis had a boy,” Pringle said, “some years before they
had Sunny. I guess you know that. Sunny even mentioned it to your mother
and me. They had a little boy named Roger. He came just nine months
after they were married. It was in the Depression, and Ben Rotheli was
out of work. June was very sick, frail and emotionally upset all through
the pregnancy. They hadn’t planned to start a family for several years.
But the thing happened anyway and that, on top of their money worries
and her bad health, nearly finished her.
“She had a drastic mental breakdown. Didn’t even know her husband for a
while, and when he brought the baby in to show her, she tried to throw
it at him. She thought it was a doll. When he swore it was hers she
became hysterical and accused him of lying. She said it couldn’t be hers
because she’d never had a baby and anyway she hated babies and that one
most of all. Ben tried to show her the baby’s eyes, because they looked
so much like hers, but she wouldn’t listen.” He paused. “That was you,
Page.
“Ben wanted to keep you. He tried to figure out a way. But he didn’t
have a dime, and he couldn’t stay home and care for you while he was out
job-hunting. June was too sick even to know her own baby, much less love
him or tend him. Every penny Rotheli could borrow went to pay hospital
bills. He didn’t even have enough to feed himself more than a couple of
cans of beans every other day. The baby had to be farmed out to a
welfare agency the first few weeks.... Page? Do you hear me?”
“I hear....”
“Well, at the time this happened, Ben was living in a tiny basement
apartment just off North Clark Street, not far from where we were. Dr.
Blue had delivered you and he was taking care of June. It looked
doubtful that June would ever recover her reason. As you know, Dr. Blue
had been our family doctor for years, and he knew how much we wanted a
son. Of course we didn’t know the Rothelis or anything about them then.
We’ve still never met them, or known your real name till now. But when
you were born, Dr. Blue came to us. He had talked it out with Ben, and
promised him you’d have as loving and kind parents in us as it was
possible to find.
“We wanted a boy desperately, and we were willing to pay generously for
him. And Ben was just as desperate to find good loving care for you in a
private home. That came first with him. But he was also hopelessly in
debt. I think if there’d been the least chance June might have come out
of it and been able to raise you herself, Ben wouldn’t have signed the
adoption papers. But you couldn’t speak the word ‘baby’ in her hearing.
It was that serious. And he was afraid she would end up a charity case
in the city hospital psycho ward—practically a guarantee she’d never
recover. Her condition looked permanent.
“Well, there we were with several thousand dollars in our hands to pay
up all his bills. All June’s hospital bills and drugs and doctor’s fees
until she was completely recovered. To us it was a small price in
exchange for the son we wanted, and the money would never be missed. To
Rotheli, it was a hand up out of the hellhole. He sacrificed the baby he
didn’t know for the wife he loved.
“Dr. Blue drew up an agreement. In addition to the financial
arrangements, both sides agreed never to try to contact or know each
other. The doctor refused to help us until we all signed it.
“June was sick for almost two years, and in and out of the hospital
after that for the next four and a half. You were in second grade by the
time your mother was a well woman, Page; by the time she could have
cared for you herself.”
There was a long silence between adopted son and step-father. Finally
Pringle spoke again in a voice weary and near to breaking. “My dear
son,” he said. “I know how you must feel—how impossible this seems. It
just couldn’t have happened—”
“But it did, thanks to you,” Page broke in irrationally, pressing a hand
over his mouth to crush the sobs. He had not wept since he had first
learned of his adoption so many years ago.
“All the records tally,” Pringle said. “We checked them immediately, of
course, over and over. There’s no way out of it.”
“No way. You’ve ruined our lives. You ruined mine years ago and how
you’ve ruined _ours_,” Page cried out so bitterly that Sunny shuddered,
hugging herself with fear.
“My boy, would you rather I hadn’t told you?” Pringle was shaken with
grief, fully as much as Page, but Page was too stricken to realize it.
“I’m _not_ your boy!” he said fiercely. “Oh, God! Nothing makes sense
any more. I suppose you’ve told the Rothelis.”
“No one knows but us and Dr. Blue,” Pringle assured him. “If I had known
Sunny was pregnant....” He stopped, uncertain himself what he would have
done.
“You would have told me just the same,” Page said.
“It’s imperative that you separate now,” Pringle said. “You aren’t
blaming us for this, are you, Page? You can’t imagine how we’ve suffered
over it. I would have gone through hell to spare you.”
“Why didn’t you, then!” Page was incapable of logic. “You didn’t have to
adopt me.”
“Perhaps you hate me now,” Pringle said sorrowfully. “But later you’ll
understand Page, there are urgent things to settle. If Sunny is really
pregnant, she must get an abortion.”
“Now you want me to murder my own child!” Page cried.
“Page! Stop it!” Sunny said, horrified.
“Your child is the product of incest,” his step-father said, and the
word tolled in Page’s ear like a death-knell. “I’m certain Dr. Blue will
help us. He has to share the responsibility for this thing. Get Sunny on
the earliest possible flight to Chicago, and—”
“Haven’t you done enough?” Page said. “Every time I come near you
something rotten happens. This is the end. You just let _me_ figure this
out!”
“Page, wait! Listen to me!” Pringle said, but Page slammed the phone
down and pulled the cord out of the wall. He flung it into a corner
where it landed with an ugly clatter.
8
Sunny waited in tense silence in the chair, holding herself together by
sheer force of will.
Page stood motionless in the middle of the room with his back to her,
his head in his hands. “Page?” she whispered, afraid her voice might
unhinge him. “Who are you, darling? Did your father tell you?”
He turned and walked into the bedroom. She followed to find him pulling
open his dresser drawers and throwing clothes on the bed. Sunny took his
arms and made him look at her. Her face made him cry again, briefly and
harshly: her beautiful, sensitive face. Suddenly he caught her to him,
holding her in arms made powerful with misery.
“Page, you must tell me. You always wanted to know who you are. Was it
so awful?” She spoke to him soothingly as his mother might have.
Instead of explaining he picked her up and put her one last time on the
bed, meaning to leave her. But he gazed down at her and found he
couldn’t move. He had been so warm and ready for love, so enchanted with
her before the call came and blasted his life. It was beyond his courage
to tell her and then walk out and leave her forever.
Instead he sat down and tried to open his mouth and declare that he was
her brother. _Roger Rotheli._ That the father-in-law he loved and
admired was his own father. His tongue refused to move.
He sat there beside his wife and felt the utmost love he had ever felt
for her, and the deepest despair. He leaned down and kissed her brow,
afraid of her sweet mouth. And abruptly, to his helpless dismay, was
consumed with a raging desire for her.
_Just once, before she learns the truth_, he told himself in anguish.
And without a word he took her. For Sunny, his sudden furious
love-making was a nightmare. His hands that had been so gentle were
hard, his lips bruised her, his tears terrified her.
Weeping and tremulous, she gave herself and prayed that her tenderness,
her fright, her very flesh, would calm him, bring him back to sanity.
But when it was over he simply lay across her, a dead weight, and said
nothing.
Sunny held him tightly and murmured, “Page, my darling, whatever it is,
we have to face it together.” He turned his face away so she couldn’t
see it. “My darling, my love, nothing in this world can whip us as long
as we have each other,” she told him.
“One thing,” he said.
“Was your father a ... an evil man, Page? A criminal? Or sick?” She
spoke as she might have to an ailing child.
Page rose suddenly and began pulling his clothes together. “No,” he
said. He zipped up his pants and put his jacket on and started out of
the room, not daring to take time to collect his clothes. He felt he had
to leave at once or he would want her again. It was a nightmare.
“Page!” Sunny cried, running after him into the living room. “For the
sweet love of God, _tell_ me!” When he opened the front door and turned
to face her like a man taking permanent leave of his woman, she gave a
little scream. “Tell me,” she demanded.
“Sunny, I—I—”
“You what? Page, are you trying to destroy me? You _what_?”
She stood with fists clenched, eyes wild in a flushed face, only half
dressed.
“I’m your brother,” he said in a weird, strained voice.
Again a fateful silence struck the room. Page hesitated, waiting for her
to faint. He would catch her, put her on the sofa, and sneak out before
she regained her senses. It would be cowardly but easier. He dared not
stay under the same roof with her.
But she didn’t faint. She only stood gazing at him while her face, that
had been in the ruins of despair, slowly took shape again. A great wave
of trembling went through her and subsided. Like Page, she lost her
voice entirely for a minute ... an inherited trait they shared in
emotional moments. When it came back she said, “You are _Roger_? My
brother, Roger, who _died_?”
He nodded, ready to bolt. For a second they stared incredulously at each
other, as fascinated as they were appalled. Sunny absorbed it bravely,
better than he had.
“Page, shut the door and come here,” she said. Her voice was still
quavery but she showed no signs of fainting. The blood had left her face
and her eyes grew wide like green flowers above her white cheeks. But he
wouldn’t come near her.
“I can’t stay, Sunny,” he said.
“You can’t stay?” It didn’t make sense at first.
“I commit the foulest kind of sin every time I look at you,” he said.
“Now that we can’t ... I mean ... I want you terribly.”
“Page, are you absolutely _certain_? There’s no mistake?”
“Doc Blue told Mother when he learned your name. The records verify it.
Good old Doc Blue ... my evil spirit,” he said acidly.
Sunny sat down on the arm of the sofa and Page moved to leave again, but
she stopped him. “You can’t go!” she cried.
“I can’t stay, that’s for sure,” he said grimly.
“But where will you go?”
“The Manns’, I guess.”
“What will you tell them?”
“My God, that’s right.” He slapped his face with one hand. “I can’t tell
any of our friends.” The enormity of it hit him brutally and he drew the
hand over his grimacing face. “I guess I’ll have to get a hotel room
somewhere.”
“Page, darling,” Sunny said, in better control of herself now, “did it
ever occur to you that it’s too late for that? There’s no point in
leaving me now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pregnant with your child. You can’t do any more harm. It’s all been
done. Does it matter then if we still make love?”
He was so shocked that he took a few steps toward her, his face screwed
up with the effort to understand her. “Are you trying to tell me we
should go on living together, as if this hadn’t happened?” he said. “Is
_that_ what you’re saying?”
Sunny was taken aback by his disgust. She looked down, unprepared for
this turn. “Darling, that baby was conceived in love and innocence,” she
said.
“We aren’t innocent any more, Sunny. Neither is our love.”
“I love you so much,” she said miserably.
“You’re in love with your brother,” he said, still stunned by it. “It’s
evil now.”
“Evil!” The word made her reel; she was frightened by his revulsion for
the situation. “I can’t be ashamed of my love for you, no matter what
you call it!” she flashed. “I won’t apologize for falling in love with
you!”
“We don’t have to apologize for it, we have to do something about it,”
he cried.
“What? Stop loving each other?”
“Separate,” he said miserably. “God, Sunny, I’ll never stop loving you.”
“Then stay with me.”
He threw out his hands at her. “You’re my _sister_, can’t you understand
that? I’ve found my name at last. I’m your brother, I’m a Rotheli.” Just
the thought of it shut him up for a second. “And you’re sitting there
suggesting that we go on as if we were normal, ordinary, wholesome
lovers! It’s unbelievable!”
All his ideals: normality, wholesomeness. How could he face the world
without them?
“Page, you talk about us as if we were diseased!” she shot back at him.
“Were we degenerates when we married, when we made love to each other?
Does just knowing it debauch us somehow?”
“Only if we stay together,” he said, “and keep on committing an act we
know now is criminal.”
“No!” she said with the ardor of a woman fighting for her love. “I’ll
never accept that, Page. I can’t believe a love like ours is anything
but good.”
“Well, now you _have_ to believe it,” he said. “It’s dirty and it’s
wrong, Sunny. The sooner you face it, the less grief this will bring us
both.” He seemed to be struggling to convince himself as much as her.
“The sooner I face what? The baby in my arms—your baby? How do I explain
him away? What shall I tell this ‘most wanted baby in the world’? Daddy
doesn’t exist, dear? Mother just stirred you up in a test tube?”
“Would you rather tell him his father is also his _uncle_?” Page
shouted.
“Does he _have_ to be told? Does anyone?”
“Things like this don’t stay secret forever, no matter how you try.
Suppose he’s born a monster. How will you explain that?”
Sunny put a frightened hand over her stomach. Like most people she had
only hazy ideas of what happened to children born of incestuous unions,
and all the ideas were gruesome.
“It will be beautiful,” she said, shaken but still brave. “It has to be,
to prove our love is right.”
“It will only prove we found out about ourselves too late,” he said
sorrowfully.
“It’ll be healthy and normal,” she said. “A sign—”
“Stop it, Sunny! There are no signs from heaven any more. All the
miracles happened long ago. There aren’t any left for us. Darling,
there’s only one way out.”
“What?” She was crying now, unable to control her face.