Scrambled Babies (30 page)

Steve was confused, but saw no other path than the one he had chosen.  “Okay, so Crystal hounded me to move in together.  She kept talking baby.  I removed the safety net, and she got pregnant.  And we were parents of a beautiful baby boy.”

Paeton sat motionless and cold.  Then Steve thought he understood the cause for her icy mood.  She was jealous.  He forged ahead, somewhat relieved.  “Want to hear the ending?”  He went for the broad grin as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh, yes.  We have to hear the ending.”  Her voice exuded contempt.

Steve managed to swallow, although his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.  “Well, I thought she really loved me.  I thought I really loved her.  And then she won the Miss Pride America pageant.  Next thing I knew she got a movie offer to play a lead opposite Riccio, the Italian heartthrob to the world.  Result?  Steve was dogmeat.  Not only was I heartbroken because I wasn’t used to being jilted, but I thought I would lose my new son to this Italian jerk.”

Paeton’s posture was ominous.  “So?”

Steve was now in a state of panic.  She didn’t seem jealous at all.  What had he said to cause her to react so violently?  Maybe he never should have started the story in the first place.  He decided to come to a quick ending.

“Well, Riccio wasn’t in a family mode.  Especially if that meant taking on a kid fathered by another guy.  So I asked for custody, and she didn’t dispute it.  I guess her great desire for a baby was displaced by her desire to become a big movie star.  She went off into the land of stardom with her Italian movie-star lover.  Ryan and I don’t hear much from her.”

Paeton remained silent. 
If
looks could kill, I would be dead, he thought.  What have I done?
 “So I got my son.  I’m not married.  I’m set exactly the way I wanted to be.  Sometimes life works.”

“You got exactly what you wanted—a baby, no marriage.”  Paeton’s tone held obvious disapproval.

Oh, oh!  The blitz is on!
  “Right.  It’s the twenty-first century, Paeton.  People in love don’t have to get married.”  Steve wanted to try to kiss her again, but decided against it.  He bit the inside of his cheek instead.

“I see.  So if I get the picture, you were in love, wanted a family, but escaped the hard part—marriage.”

Oh, god!  I’m going to get sacked.
  “Right.  Uh, well, I mean, no, we never intended to get married.  Yes, I guess at the time I thought I was in love with her.  And I really wanted a child.  But I don’t think I could ever work up the courage to marry anybody.”

Paeton riveted her eyes to his and spat out, “So, assuming we have a relationship, which I’m not certain of yet, your idea of the most serious relationship we can have is to
shack up
?”

That’s it!  I’m flat on my back!
  Steve threw out his hands, pleading with her.  “Well, ‘shack up’ is hardly the phrase I would use.”

“But it’s the one that fits.”  Paeton’s lips were so tightly drawn, Steve wondered how she got her words out.  “For your information, Kaselman, I don’t
shack up
with anybody!”  And she snarled “shack up” as if it were an obscenity.

“Paeton, I think we do have relationship.  I think we can be great together.  I may ask you to have us
live together.
  People live together for years without being married.  Look at—I forget their names—those movie stars.  They’ve been living as a family for years, and they aren’t married.  Most of the time marriage screws up a good relationship.  You’re a professional with a career.  So am I.  We continue being who we are, but live like a family.”

“
Like
a family is a long way from
being
a family.”

“But—”

“I don’t think there is a ‘but’ we can talk about.  I was right.  You’re just another self-centered, arrogant, egotistical jock!”

She rose and glared down at him.  When he started to stand, she stabbed her finger sharply into his shoulder, keeping him in place.  “Don’t bother to get up.  I can find my way home, thank you.  A
home
is what I want.  A
shack
is not!  Good-bye—Kaselman!”  She whirled and hurried away down the path.

Steve sat there stunned.  He had not anticipated such a radical reaction to his need to avoid marriage.  He called after her.  “Paeton.  I hate it when you call me that.  Don’t go!  I still want to talk about the Alice house.”  She continued to march unhesitatingly away.  “Hey, and the TV show.  What do I do?  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.  Do I have to be there?”

Paeton displayed no signs of slowing down.

Steve called out again. He had risen to his knees.  “Paeton!  Wait, please.  I hate it when you call me Kaselman.  What happened to Steve?”

Paeton stopped short, turned in a belligerent stance, and shot back, “I don’t know.  What
did
happen to Steve?”  Then she gave him her back and stomped off.

Steve jumped to his feet and started to run after her.  “Paeton, don’t do this!”  She must have heard him because she started running too.  “Paeton!  Please!  We can work—”  But he knew he couldn’t talk to her now.  She demanded marriage.  Otherwise—?

Oh, Paeton McPhilomy!  Why are you making my life so impossible?

#

A week after the lake incident, Paeton sat next to Fred in Studio B at the Media Building in L.A.  The show would start in twenty minutes.  People were scurrying everywhere.  Those who would appear on camera were being fussed over by those who wouldn’t.  The on-camera people were bright waxed apples; those fussing over them, dull dumpy potatoes.

This experience wasn’t new to Paeton.  Her whirlwind tour to publicize her book had taken her to many TV studios.  But this time things were different.  She was on trial, so to speak.  The national audience would become her judge and jury.  She wasn’t sure she liked that.  But Fred had said this was the only way.

Fred had laid careful groundwork:  The “courtroom” would be Liesl Stoddard’s weekly TV show, “World of the Stars.” Liesl would explain that three times during the regular show, two videos of the identical children would be run on split screen.  The tots would be placed in the now-famous Zoo Kingdom travelseats and blankets.  They would also be in the original sleepers. Each infant would be prompted by an identical toy hanging overhead.  The video would run for fifteen seconds. Then the audience would call in and answer two questions:  First, which baby was which, and second, should Paeton withdraw from the National Single Mom of the Year competition?  At the end of the show, Liesl would announce the results of the voting.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”  Fred’s voice was in her ear.  “The show’s about to hit the airwaves.”  He turned to watch the monitor in the waiting room.

Paeton looked at Fred.  He appeared to be enjoying the situation.  Or at least not under any kind of stress.  She wished she could say the same for herself.  Besides shouldering the shame of the scrambled-babies exposure, now she was suffering the pain of Steve Kaselman’s aversion to marriage; of her childish exit from their supposedly lovely, getting-to-know-you lunch; and of Steve’s not having called her for a week. 

She had been totally unprepared for Steve’s dread of—or was it scorn for?—the institution of marriage.  That’s why she had bolted like that.  She felt stupid afterward.  She was supposed to be an adult.  Adults talked things out rationally.

But there was nothing vaguely rational about her relationship with Steve Kaselman.  She had hoped for a phone call of apology.  Then she just hoped for a phone call.  Seven days and none yet.  And Fred wanted to know how she was doing!

Her visions of life with any man had always meant marriage.  Until a week ago, marriage and Steve had been like a tall, magnificent mountain rising out of morning mist.  Although Kevin’s death was a shock, her brief grieving provided sad evidence that their marriage had died some time before.  He was a good, kind, hard-working, and faithful husband.  He had always been good to Madison.  But sometimes their marriage seemed like one portrayed in a third-grade storybook. Or as if they unwittingly were the cast of the
Leave It to Beaver
show.  Paeton had to concede that the only romantic excitement in her life was what sprang to life within the pages of her love stories.  There she played out all the fantasies so alien to her existence.

On August fourth all that changed!  Romantic fantasies beyond her wildest imagination became possibilities in the
real
world.  And Steve was gentle.  Steve was intelligent.  Steve was fun.  And Steve was a confirmed bachelor!  Except for that, Steve was turning out to be everything she had ever wanted in a man.

So, angry as she was, her thoughts still centered on him.  For example, right now she found herself wishing he were sitting next to her.  And this made her furious!  She felt herself grinding her teeth.  Her brain stood fast against her
need
for any man!  But her heart gave in to the
desire
for Steve Kaselman.

“Fine, fine.  I’m okay, Fred.”  The show, the show.  She had to pay attention.  This could make or break her career.  And his. 

This was true.  Steve had as much riding on this show as she did.  But true to jock behavior, he had disappeared when things promised to turn ugly.  As a result, Paeton was left to work out all details for the show with Greta because “Steve is so tightly scheduled.”

I’ll tightly schedule him
, she thought.  And never even to call
?  I’d like to wring his neck!

Of course, there was the undeniable circumstance of Paeton running from him like a schoolgirl on the playground.  She didn’t deserve a phone call.  Paeton should be the one to call and apologize.  But as yet, she hadn’t found the courage.  Besides, she had no idea where he was, and voice mail was out of the question.

“We’re live in five, Mr. Hollister, Ms. McPhilomy,” broke into the waiting room over the intercom.

Paeton’s heart picked up speed.  So far no queasiness.  Was she sorry she had let herself in for this?  What if the nation voted for her to pull out?  Should she?  Would she?  Liesl had said that only three percent of the listening audience voted anyway.  What was three percent of ten percent of—oh, the hell with it.  She wasn’t pulling out no matter how they voted. 

Fred said the important aspect of the show was to demonstrate that no one could conclusively discern which baby was which.  Then Paeton could use the voters’ confusion over the babies’ gender to stay in the competition regardless of the vote.

But the nagging question that caused Paeton the most anxiety was what if the nation could tell the difference?  How could she ever look at anyone, especially her own children, without utter shame and guilt?

#

The show was almost over.  Fred came back into the waiting room after checking with Liesl on how the voting was going.  He was smiling broadly.  “You were right, Paeton.  Everyone is obviously guessing.  When the videos are switched on the screen, no one can figure out which kid is which.”

“Good.”

Fred took her hand.  “Good?  It’s great!  The other good news is that the voting audience is telling you to stay in the competition.”

“Sales should be back on track?  Velvet Arrow will be happy?” she asked tentatively.

“Sales should be back on track, yes.  And it’s turning out that the nation doesn’t care that you switched babies and never reported it.  That’s what we were waiting for.”  Fred gave his hair a finger-comb of finality.  “Thank god!”

“And Christian will let me write the screenplay?”

“I believe so.  It looks as if Kaselman is dropping out of the picture as far as you’re concerned.  We don’t need him anymore.  We’re in the clear.  Now he can fight his own battles that have nothing to do with us.”  Fred stood up.  “Come on, I’ll buy dinner.  I think champagne is in order.”