Apparently no inention had been made of Kirsty's sister, Karen thought resentfully. As far as Hal was concerned she was irrelevant. But he would soon find out differently. The news seemed to act as a tonic on Owen Chissolm; he brightened visibly and his step became more spry. Karen was glad, for his father's sake, that Hal was still alive, but the knowledge sharpened the pain of her own loss. Why couldn't Kirsty have only been injured? Why did her sister have to clie?
'Karen .. .'
She lifted bleak, grieving eyes to Owen Chissolm. He hesitated, torn between his own sense of urgency and the realisation of what this city meant to her. But urgency won. 'Harper will be taking our luggage to the hotel. I'm going straight to the hospital. I know it's asking a great deal of you, but we've come this far now and .. .'
'I'll come with you.' Better to get it over with, she thought in grim resignation. Then she could give her complete attention to doing something about Kirsty.
Apology and gratitude within the gentle squeeze of her arm. 'It may be a long wait at the hospital,' Owen Chissolm warned kindly.
Karen looked down at David and knew there would be no peace for her until she had shown him to Hal. 'We'll manage.'
A limousine was waiting for them. One of the Israelis took the front passenger seat next to the driver, while Owen Chissolm sat in the back with Karen and David. He was certainly efficient, Karen thought ruefully. When he moved, he moved with style, everything pulling together like clockwork. Power and wealth were never ignored.
Tears swam into her eyes, tears of fatigue and helplessness and rage against the situation. She had lost Kirsty; would the Chissolms take David from her too. The adoption had been legalised, so the law was surely on ber side but the fact that she was a single, working mother might go against her. If only Barry had stayed with her she would be in a much stronger
position.
'Why didn't you have any children of your own, Karen? There must have been a reason.'
The question startled her, coming as it did on top of her own thoughts of Bary. She cast Owen Chissolm a bleak look. 'My husband couldn't father children. Unlike your son, he was infertile.'
The blue eyes were sharp now and they held hers intently. 'And he couldn't cope with the problem.'
The soft statement rattled a host of painful memories. That fatal medical report had been the death knell on their marriage. Barry had started playing around to prove something about his manhood and Karen had felt doubly cheated. 'Neither of us coped with it very well. We d been trying to have a baby for four years,' she admitted sadly.
'But he was still with you when David came along.'
Karen glanced quickly at David, but the little boy was too busy looking out the car window to take any heed of the conversation. She shot a warning frown at Owen Chissolm and answered in a low tone, 'Yes, he was still with me. After a rather shattering year I persuaded Barry into putting our names down to ... for a baby. Then Kirsty became pregnant. She said Hal would suggest an abortion and she couldn't do that. She wanted us to bring up the child. But when he was ours, Barry couldn't bear my loving a child that was not his own and I wouldn't give the baby up. So we parted.'
'Then David was indirectly responsible for the breakup of your marriage,' Owen Chissolm mused quietly. 'And now he's become your whole life.'
Karen's jaw tightened with determination. 'David is my son, Mr Chissolm--legally, morally, and in every other way. And no one is going to take him away from me. Nor will I ever give him up.'
He met her defiant gaze with a sympathy that Karen had not expected and he answered her in a calm, soothing voice. 'No one is asking you to, Karen. I will say this, in justice to my son--Hal was given no choice in the matter. He didn't know about David until Kirsty told him. Don't condemn him unheard.'
Unheard! Karen gritted her teeth against saying any more, but her mind seethed with a scornful rejection of Owen Chissolm's argument. Actions spoke louder than words, and Kirsty wouldn't have given up her baby if Hal had even suggested he might like fatherhood. If his life wasn't in danger now he wouldn't be wanting to bother with David. It was no strain to look at a little boy; that didn't require a choice of life-styles. She kept a grim silence for the rest of the way to the hospital.
The vast medical complex was another novelty to David. Owen Chissolm and the Israeli man went to consult with doctors while Karen and David remained in a visitors' lounge. Karen felt weak from fatigue and apprehension, and sick with thoughts of her sister; the hospital reminded her too forcibly of death. David's questions grew more and more difficult to answer as they waited for news. It seemed an interminable age before. Owen Chissolm returned.
He sank in to the seat next to Karen, his face drawn into grave lines, his eyes deeply anxious. 'Karen, Hal is conscious now. I've told him ... prepared him ... but--I'm not sure he understands that .. .' He faltered and shook his head. 'He might
think that you're Kirsty....God knows I did at first. Can you handle that, Karen?'
The blood drained from her face. 'You can't mean that you want me to pretend...'
'No, of course not,' he cut in quickly. 'Just. .. be ready. I realise how distressing this must be for you and I didn't want you further upset by something beyond my control. It might be easier, on everyone, if you let me take David .. .'
'No!' Her eyes flared defiance as she stood up and stiffened her spine. 'We go together or not at all,' she declared adamantly, and to further emphasise the point, she stepped over to David who was leafing through the magazines on a nearby table and took his hand.
Owen Chissolm rose to his feet. 'It's not good, Karen. Not for him or for you.'
'David is my only consideration. It would frighten him to be separated from me in a foreign place. Hospitals are frightening enough to adults, let alone children,' she argued, not caring if she was being unreasonable. No one was going to take her son away from her--no one!
Owen Chissolm gestured an appeal, then dropped his hand in the face of her obduracy. 'I'll take you to his room,' he shrugged.
'Where are we going now?' asked David as they began walking.
'To visit someone who wants to meet you,' Karen answered cautiously. 'But he's very sick, so you must be very good and quiet.'
'Who is he?'
'He's Mr Chissolm's son. Like you're my son.'
'Is he like me, Pop?' David asked in all his childish innocence, and Karen's heart turned over.
Owen Chissolm answered matter-of-factly, 'Yes, like you, David. Except he's grown up.'
'What's his name?'
The questions and answers continued all the way to Hal's room, but Karen barely heard them. She was steeling herself to face the man who had been Kirsty's lover and the father of her son. The biological father, she reminded herself savagely. He was no more than that, and no matter that he was at death's door, she would feel no pity for him. Kirsty was dead.