Abra stood in front of her full-length mirror, staring at herself, wondering. The first night with Dylan, and the long week on the road with him, she hadn’t had the presence of mind to worry about getting pregnant. Lilith, Dylan, and their doctor made sure she had what she needed to protect herself.
Franklin had never left it her sole responsibility. She had thought him considerate, until she broached the subject of children soon after they got married in Las Vegas.
He gave a dark laugh. “Two is more than enough heartache for a lifetime.”
He might as well have slammed a door in her face and locked it. “Why? Because you don’t see them as often as you’d like?”
“Because my wife uses them as a weapon against me.”
His wife? “I’m your wife now, Franklin. We’ll be a family.”
He drew back from her, frowning. “Why are you talking about children now?” He had been in the mood to make love. Clearly, the subject upset him enough to put that idea out of his head.
“I was just wondering. That’s all.” She propped her head up on her hand and studied him. “We’re married, Franklin. It’s something we should talk about. Isn’t it?”
His eyes darkened. “You’re barely twenty-one, Lena. You have years ahead of you.” He pushed the sheet off and got up.
She felt the cold air. “Don’t you mean we have years ahead of us?”
“Same thing.”
She crossed her arms behind her head. “I’d like to have children someday.”
He gave her a cold smile. “It’s not something to joke about, Lena.”
Lena. The name grated on her nerves. She pushed herself up. “I’m not joking.”
“Then we’ll talk about it. Someday. Not now. Not this week or next month or this year.”
She stood and grabbed her robe. “That sounds more like never.”
“I didn’t say never.” He sounded irritated. “But let’s give ourselves a year, at least, preferably two, to enjoy each other. I want you all to myself for a while.” He went into the bathroom. She heard the shower go on.
Abra gave him six more months before she decided it would never happen unless Lena Scott made him lose his head at the right time of the month. She knew when he was most susceptible to Lena’s charms and poured a little extra Scotch into his drinks on those afternoons.
He’d change his mind once she was pregnant. He loved his children. She could tell by the tone of his voice when he tried to talk with them, the hurt when they cut the conversations short. This child would love him back. They could be a family. They could have a real home, instead of this airless apartment.
She ran her hand lovingly over her abdomen. She was two months along. She’d hoped, but still been surprised at how quickly she got pregnant. She’d gained two pounds in the last month. Her breasts felt tender. She was so tired sometimes, she just wanted to sleep. Weren’t those positive signs?
Everything would change now. Franklin would be happy, too, seeing how happy she was. She only had to tell him and have him make a doctor’s appointment to verify what she already knew. Her heart jumped when the apartment door opened and she heard Franklin’s voice. “Lena! Where are you?”
Abra threw on her robe and stepped into her slippers. The last two months had been hectic. They’d been to dinners at LaRue on Sunset Strip and Ciro’s, met celebrities at Cafe Trocadero, attended premieres at Grauman’s Chinese, the Egyptian, and the Carthay Circle, giant klieg lights crisscrossing the sky, women in shimmering satin and sequins, men in tuxedos, shiny black limos, red carpets, and lobby posters. She met Gail Russell and Guy Madison, exchanged pleasantries with Lana Turner and Ronald Reagan. They’d been out late last night, at another Hollywood party where he’d shown her off and introduced her to another producer. Abra hoped the time would come when she didn’t have to listen to Franklin sing her praises to men who looked her over like a prime piece of meat.
“I’ve got good news.” He came into the bedroom. “You got the part!” He lifted her and spun her around. “I feel like celebrating.” He set her down and started to open her robe.
A quick stab of fear gripped her. She turned and stepped away. “Which part?”
“The part.” He came up behind her, his arms at her waist. Her heart knocked like a jackhammer. “The one we’ve been talking about for weeks. You finish this movie, and we’re all set.” He kept talking as he slipped his hands inside her robe. This was their big chance. A dramatic role this time, a movie based on a Tennessee Williams play.
Her heart fell. Hadn’t Franklin listened to her at all? She’d told him she couldn’t do it. She didn’t have the acting chops. He said she had him, and that’s all she needed. He’d teach her how to play the part. She knew what that meant. He’d hammer and chisel her into the role.
Franklin let go of her and stripped off his suit jacket. He yanked his tie loose. Her fear grew as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Why are you just standing there?” He laughed. “You should be dancing!”
“I can’t do it, Franklin.”
“You will do it!” He caught her by the shoulders, his eyes glowing. “And you’ll do it better than anyone else!” He cupped her face. “You don’t know what you’re capable of, Lena. Not yet. The whole world is going to know you before I’m done.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. “The money is all lined up, the production team ready; it’s all a go! This will establish you on the A-list. All they need is your pretty signature on the contract.”
His hands traveled down her back. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. It’s all coming together faster than I dreamed. It’s as though the hand of Providence is on our side.”
She shuddered, doubting God had anything to do with this. Franklin frowned. “What’s wrong?” He looked down over her body. “You’ve put on a few pounds.”
Abra felt a shock of cold go through her body. “Franklin . . .” She had to tell him.
“Forget about it. You can diet tomorrow.” Franklin gave her no time to draw her breath. “I love you so much.” He covered her mouth again. Raking his fingers into her hair, he drew back to look at her. “I can’t get enough of you.” He wasn’t seeing Abra at all, but Lena Scott, his own creation.
She wanted to weep. He didn’t even know Abra existed anymore.
Like Galatea, she remained silent as Pygmalion worshiped her.
Abra told Franklin the news the morning after the postproduction party for Lorelei. His face went white. He held his glass of Scotch half-suspended between the counter and his mouth as he turned to stare at her as though he didn’t understand. “What do you mean, pregnant?”
He said the word as though she’d just told him she had terminal cancer. Abra swallowed hard, heart pounding. She hadn’t expected him to look so devastated. “I’ll need to see a doctor to know for sure, but it’s been over two months since . . .”
The news was sinking in fast, like a toxic chemical into a white sandy beach. “This isn’t happening.”
“It is happening.”
“No. It can’t be. We’ve been too careful.” He downed his Scotch in one gulp.
“Not always.” She saw the narrowing coldness in his eyes, and rushed on. “Sometimes you were in too much of a hurry.” She watched the memory sink in.
Franklin swore and threw his glass against the wall. “Not after all my work!”
She flinched, but her own anger rose. All his work? How nice that he’d forgotten the pounding and hammering and chiseling she’d taken: the blistered and bloodied feet while learning to dance, the exhausting hours of running her lines with him, feeling exposed as a fraud every time the cameras rolled.
Three years of her life had gone into becoming the woman of his dreams. Three years of doing hard time in this godforsaken prison. Every minute of every hour planned by her master.
His eyes darkened. “You planned this, didn’t you, Abra?”
It was the first time she’d heard her name on his lips since the morning after he brought her
to this apartment. It felt like a punch in the gut. His tone was glacial with suspicion, accusation. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Lena would never betray him. Abra had.
“I’ve done everything you asked since the night you brought me here, Franklin. I’ve worked hard to be what you want. I handed my life over to you.” Tears blurred her vision. “If you love me so much, why do you see this as a problem?”
He studied her face, his expression shuttered. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
“I wanted to wait until I was sure.” She stepped forward, a hand out. “I—”
“Be quiet and let me think.” He stood abruptly and stepped away.
“What do you have to think about?” It was a done deal. There was no turning back. Or so she thought, until she saw the look in his eyes.
“You still have a movie to make. You can’t have a baby.”
She blinked. “I’m going to have a baby.”
“No, you’re not. You’re under contract.”
Whose contract did he mean?
He paced, one hand at the back of his neck. “It’s not the first time this has happened. I’ll make a few calls. Find a good doctor.”
“We have a doctor.”
“Not the kind we need.”
She felt a chill at the way he said it. What was going through his mind? “The schedule can be altered.”
“And cost the studio tens of thousands of dollars? Have you look like a prima donna? The other deal I’m working on would go right down the drain.”
“It wouldn’t be that big a change. They could shoot all my scenes in a few weeks, and then I could take whatever time off I need to have the baby.”
“You’re not having a baby, Lena.”
Why wouldn’t he listen to reason? “You can’t undo what’s been done. It’s our baby, Franklin.” Her stomach quivered. “Yours and mine.”
He erupted, face reddening as he shouted at her. “I told you I didn’t want more children! I told you how—”
“I’m your wife now. It won’t be that way!”
He wasn’t listening. He continued to pace, muttering under his breath. “Why do women always betray the ones who love them?”
The trembling started again, deep inside. “I haven’t betrayed you, Franklin. You said we’d talk about having children.”
“You talked.” He glared at her. “I said we’d wait!” He came at her, teeth bared, eyes wild. “You’re not ruining everything I’ve worked so hard to accomplish.”
She backed away from him and knocked over a stool. He stopped. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he went to the windows. He looked down Hollywood Boulevard. “If not for me, you’d be out there working the street like a hundred other girls. And you know it! You owe me!”
She pulled on Lena, grasping the role tightly as she went to him. She spread her hands on his back, rubbing gently, hoping to soothe him. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see. There will just be three of us, instead of two.”
He stepped away from her and went back to the bar, pouring himself another Scotch. “Do you want to end up like Pamela Hudson? Three movies, a promising career, then step down off the pedestal to get married and have a baby. Who remembers her now? You’re on your way up, Lena. We have to keep the momentum going. Audiences are fickle! A year off and you’ll be forgotten.”
Her resolve slipped a notch. “I don’t care.” She turned away, staring out the windows, seeing nothing.
Franklin came to her. He turned her to face him. He touched her brow with gentle fingers. “I do care, Lena. I care enough for both of us. I need to make a few calls. Sort things out.” He tipped her chin, but didn’t kiss her. “You look tired. Why don’t you go to bed?”
She awakened some time later and heard Franklin talking in the office. She got up and went down the hall. He held the receiver to his ear while he bent and wrote notes on a pad. He said a brief thanks and hung up.
Good. Franklin must have called the director. The sooner he knew the situation, the sooner he could make up a new schedule, rearrange scenes to shoot. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s all taken care of. You don’t have to worry about a thing. You’re doing your most important scene on Thursday. We’ll see the doctor on Friday.”
Relieved, Abra came into his office and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging herself against him. “Thank you.” Her voice came out choked and hoarse with relief. “I was so scared, Franklin. Everything is going to be so much better now. I just know it is.”
He rubbed her back. “Everything will be fine. Trust me.” His thumb stroked her temple. “You won’t have to be back on set until Tuesday next week.”
On the way to the set the next morning, Franklin told her not to mention the pregnancy, not to anyone. She didn’t understand why not. He’d told the director. Why should they keep it secret? Franklin stared at the road ahead. “No director wants needless distractions on the set. Keep this quiet.” He gave her a hard look. “Keep your focus.”
The makeup artist dabbed foundation. “You’re looking much better today, Lena.”
“I’m feeling better, too.” She wanted to blurt out the news, but there were always spies who wanted to profit on tidbits of information. One phone call, and the press would be at the door wanting a story on Lena Scott’s pregnancy. The production would be disrupted.
Franklin waited outside the door. He seemed even more protective than usual. “Do the scene the way we did it this morning, and you’ll be great.” Tense, she stood on her mark, the lines racing through her head. Every scene was one less she would have to do, one closer to the end of Lena Scott’s last movie.
The next few days went quickly. Franklin watched the dailies with the director. She hated watching herself on-screen and spent the time resting in her dressing room. Friday morning, Franklin was edgy and preoccupied. He drove in silence, his hands tight on the wheel. Sweat beaded his brow. She slept. She awakened when he turned off the highway. How long had they been driving?
“We’re almost there.” He reached over and ran his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. “They said it wouldn’t be too bad. You’ll feel cramping for a couple of hours. Then it will all be over.”
It will all be over? She froze, panic bubbling up inside her. “What are you talking about?”
“The abortion.”
When he said he’d taken care of everything, she thought he meant the difficult conversation with the director, not killing their child.
“No.” Her voice quavered. “It’s wrong.”
“Who’s to say what’s right and wrong? Right now, this is right for you. It’s the best we can do under the circumstances.”
“I don’t want an abortion!”
“Do you think I don’t know why you planned this? I know I’ve pushed you hard, Lena. Maybe too hard. We’ll take more time off between movies after this is over.”
“It’s against the law!”
“It’s done all the time!” He let out a sharp breath. “I won’t tell you how much this little mistake is costing me.” He looked angry now, determined. “I didn’t want just anyone doing it. I wanted the best.”
“The best?”
“A doctor, not a backroom butcher.”
Abra started to cry. “I won’t do it! I won’t!”
“I’ve been thinking. Once your career is established, then you can take time off to have a baby. We could hire a nanny. You’d have to work with a trainer for a few months to get back in shape, but it can be done.”
“Aren’t you listening to me?”
“You listen!” His fingers turned white as he tightened his grip on the wheel. Did he wish it was her neck? “You’re nowhere near ready to be a mother. You don’t know the first thing about children.” He turned onto a country road toward the hills. He glanced at a sheet of notes and turned down a long driveway.
He parked in front of a small house. He shoved his door open quickly and came around to the passenger side. Seeing no es
cape, Abra stopped resisting. Franklin didn’t let go of her arm. “I’ll stay with you every minute. I promise.”
A woman answered the door. Abra didn’t look up. Franklin said something about the lupines being particularly beautiful this year, and they were invited in.
“I have to be careful, you know.” The woman sounded annoyed, not apologetic. “The Catholics would love to see me put in jail.”
“We’re not Catholic.”
“Do you have the money?”
Franklin pulled out his wallet and extracted two crisp hundred-dollar bills.
The woman took the cash and folded it into her pocket, then stepped back. “I have everything ready. This way.”
Franklin took Abra by the arm again. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.” Abra kept her head down as they followed the woman into the house, down a hall, and into a back room with white walls, a table with stirrups, and drawn shades.
“This isn’t what I was expecting.” Franklin sounded worried.
“I have everything I need.”
“Is there going to be a lot of pain?”
“Not as much as childbirth, and it’ll be over soon. Have her take off everything below the waist and then get her up on the table.”
Abra felt frozen in fear as Franklin undressed her. He kept talking, his voice tense. “You’re going to be fine. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. Then we’ll forget this ever happened.” He scooped her up in his arms and placed her gently on the table. He helped lift her feet into the stirrups. Her legs shook. “Easy.” He leaned down, resting his forehead on the inner curve of her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish there was an easier way.”
Clenching her teeth, she whimpered.
Franklin stroked her forehead with icy fingers. “It’ll be over soon.”
It was.
The woman straightened and stripped off rubber gloves. She washed her hands in the basin. “It should be all over by tomorrow morning.”
Franklin straightened, his face going white. “What do you mean, tomorrow? You said it would be over soon.”
“My part is. The saline solution takes time to work on the fetus.” The woman opened the door.