Danielle Steel - Changes

“I don't think I could have done it.”

“I didn't feel like I had a choice. And Mark was there.” She tried to shrug it off, but they both knew she never would. Mel had held her close and they had cried, as Val told her.

“I'm sorry, baby.”

“Me too, Mom … I'm so sorry …” She returned to L. A. contrite, and Mel noticed that night at dinner that she treated Mark more like a brother now, and he didn't seem to mind. There had already been a subtle change between them, and it was for the best. Peter had noticed it too, and mentioned it to Mel that night. “I know.” She nodded. “I think the big romance is over.”

“That's just as well.” Peter smiled tiredly. He had had a long day, and been in surgery for five hours that morning. He had come back to real life and a mountain of work waiting for him at Center City. “We can let him loose on the neighborhood now and wish him luck. I never realized what an agony it was to have daughters.” Even though he had done his share of worrying about Pam, but not in quite the same way as one worried about Val. It was that damn body of hers that worried one so. “It's a damn shame she's not ugly.”

Mel grinned. “Tell me about it. I've been getting gray hair over it for years.”

But by the next day she was back to getting gray hair in the newsroom. Paul Stevens had created all kinds of chaos while she was gone. She had called in sick for three days, and when she came back on Thursday morning, he had done everything he could to sabotage her. Fortunately, the producer knew what Stevens had in mind, and that he hated Mel with a passion, so he hadn't done any real damage. But it was depressing to hear the gossip he had circulated about her, and to hear the trouble he had tried to create, by claiming she was hailed as a royal bitch in New York, and everyone there had hated her guts, that she had screwed her way to the top, and any other bit of filth he could think of. Mel reported it all to Peter that night, and he was livid for her.

“Why, that little sonofabitch …” He had clenched a fist and Mel smiled tiredly at his reaction.

“He really is a bastard.”

“I'm sorry you have to go through that.”

“So am I. But there it is.”

“Why does he hate you so much?”

“Mainly, the difference in money, and also because he doesn't want to share the limelight. He hasn't had a coanchor in years and he doesn't want one. Neither have I, but I figure you have to adapt to the situation. I'd like nothing better than to get rid of him, but I figure that it's not worth the aggravation.”

“Too bad he doesn't figure the same thing.”

“Isn't that the truth.”

And on and on it went for the next month, so much so that Mel began to feel ill most of the time, she had headaches, and a knot in her stomach that never went away, and she began to dread going to the station. She did as many interviews as she could, just to get away, but nowadays she was also trying to spend more time with the girls, particularly the twins. Jessica's speech hadn't gone unheeded at the time of Val's abortion. She had accused her mother of being more interested in Peter's children than them and now Mel was trying to shift the balance. But she sensed that Pam seemed to feel put aside, and she noticed her ganging up on her with Mrs. Hahn whenever she could, and to alleviate that, Mel attempted to include Pam with the twins whenever possible, but it was difficult to keep everyone happy, and lately she had been feeling so lousy that it was difficult to meet their needs and hers too. And she was out shopping with Matt one day when she actually had to sit down and catch her breath. She was so dizzy and nauseous that she thought she was going to faint in Safeway. She made him promise not to tell his father, but he was so upset he told Jess, who immediately told Peter when he came home. He glanced thoughtfully at Mel over dinner and then questioned her about it that night.

“You sick, Mel?”

“No, why?” She turned away so he wouldn't see her face,

“I don't know. A little bird told me that you didn't feel so hot today.” He was looking worriedly at her when she turned around.

“And what did the little bird say?” She wanted to feel out how much Peter knew.

“That you almost fainted at the grocery store.” He pulled her down on the bed next to him and looked closely at her. “Is that true, Mel?”

“More or less.”

“What's wrong?”

She sighed and stared at the floor and then back at him. “That asshole Paul Stevens has been driving me crazy. I think I might have an ulcer, and I've been feeling lousy for the past few weeks.”

Peter looked at her unhappily. “Mel, will you promise me you'll have it checked out?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, but she didn't sound sure. “I really don't have time though.”

He grabbed her arm. “Make time then.” He had lost one wife, and couldn't bear the thought of losing another. “I mean it, Mel! Either that or I'll check you into the hospital myself.”

“Don't be silly. I just got dizzy.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Not in a while.”

“Then it might have been that. But I want you to check it out anyway.” And he noticed now that she had lost weight, her face was drawn and she looked pale. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He leaned over and took her hand. “I'm just worried about you, Mel.” He pulled her close. “I love you so damn much. Now will you call tomorrow and have someone check you out?”

“Okay, okay.” And the next morning he gave her a list of names, of internists and specialists. “You want me to see all of them?” She looked horrified and he smiled.

“One or two will do. Why don't you start with Sam Jones, the internist, and let him figure out who else you should see.”

“Why don't you just check me into the Mayo Clinic for a week?” She was teasing but he was not amused. She looked even worse than she had the night before.

“I just might.”

“The hell you will.”

She made an appointment with Sam Jones for that afternoon. It would have been a four-week wait, except that when she told the nurse who she was, miraculously, they found a spot for her that day. She stopped in at two P.M., and she had to be at work by four, and Jones used every minute that he could, to take blood, do urine tests, go over her, take down a history, listen to her lungs, take her blood pressure. She felt as though he had touched and prodded every inch of her by the time he was through.

“Well, so far, you look all right to me. Tired maybe, but basically healthy. But let's see what all the lab tests say. Have you been feeling run-down for very long?” She told him all the symptoms she'd had, the queasiness, headaches, the pressure she was under at work, the move from New York, the change of jobs, Val's abortion, getting married, and adjusting to a whole new set of kids, while living with the ghost of Peter's late wife, in the house she still didn't feel at home in.

“Stop!” He fell back in his chair with a groan, clapping a hand to his head. “I'm beginning to feel queasy too. I think you've just given your own diagnosis, my friend. I don't think you needed me at all. You need six weeks on a sandy beach.”

She smiled at him. “I wish. But I told Peter all it was was nerves.”

“You may be right.” He offered her Valium, Librium, or sleeping pills and she declined them all. And when she saw Peter that night, she told him what Sam Jones had said.

“See, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm just overworked.” They both knew that anyway, but he still wasn't convinced. He was inclined to be overly cautious about her, and Mel knew that.

“Let's see what the lab tests say.”

She rolled her eyes and went to put Matthew to bed. Pam was listening to her stereo, and the girls were doing homework in their room. Mark was out. The grapevine had told Mel a few days before that he had a new girl friend, a freshman at UCLA, and Val didn't seem bothered at all. There was a boy in her class she said was “really cute,” and Jessica had finally found someone she liked who had taken her out on two movie dates. All was well with all of them for once. She returned to Peter with a happy sigh. “All's quiet on the Western Front at least.” She reported on them all and he was pleased. Things were finally settling down after all, or so he thought. But neither of them was prepared for the news they got the next day.

Mel forgot to call Dr. Jones before she left for work, and there was a message for her to call him at home when she got in. Peter saw the message first and called Sam himself, but his old colleague and friend would say nothing at all to him. “Have your wife call me when she gets home, Pete.”

“For chrissake, Sam, what's wrong?” He was terrified but Jones would not relent, and Peter pounced on Mel the moment she walked through the door. “Call Jones!”

“Now? Why? I just walked in, can I at least hang up my coat?”

“For chrissake, Mel …”

“Jesus.” She looked at the worried look in his eyes, wondering what he wasn't telling her. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know. He won't tell me a thing.”

“Did you call him?” She looked annoyed.

He confessed. “Yes. But he wouldn't tell me anything.”

“Good.”

“For chrissake …”

“All right, all right.” She dialed the home number he had left, and Mrs. Jones went to get her husband. Peter hovered over Mel but she waved him away. She and the doctor went through the usual amenities before getting down to why he had called her.

“I didn't want to tell Peter before I told you.” He sounded serious and Mel held her breath. Maybe Peter was right. Maybe something awful was wrong with her. “You're pregnant, Mel, but I thought you'd like to tell him that yourself.” He was beaming at his end, but Mel was not at hers. She wore a glazed expression and Peter stared at her, convinced it was bad news. He sank slowly into a chair and waited until she hung up.