Her Father's House by Belva Plain Page B

coming out of the hospital. He had not seen her since the day of the wedding, yet she was unmistakable in her slipshod clothes and long, unkempt hair. It was the sight of her that abruptly made his decision; if
she
thinks enough of a friend's baby to come here, then surely
I
have a greater obligation.
    The truth was that he was also dreading what he might feel when he beheld this child of divided parents, this child who was to be reared in another man's house.
    He went inside, took the elevator, and following directions to the nursery, came face-to-face with Lillian.
    â€œOh—I didn't think,” he stammered. “How are you?”
    â€œDidn't think I'd be walking around? It's over twenty-four hours, and they want you to walk. This is my second trip to the nursery.”
    For a moment he wondered whether she felt as awkward as he did, and in the second moment, knew very well that she did not. For her there would be no embarrassment in remembering how intimate they had once been. He knew every inch of the body underneath the quilted silk robe. If he had known what he later learned, there would be no child now. He would never have touched her.
    I wouldn't even recognize him the next morning.
    â€œI'm so glad I didn't—didn't do that, Donald. She's absolutely adorable, the sweetest little thing. See, right here in the second bassinet? She's asleep.”
    A small, pink heap had a thatch of dark hair on its head. With surprise, he realized that he had lived all these years without ever having seen a newborn baby.
    â€œMost of them are bald. Isn't it cute, all that hair? She'll probably lose it, they tell me, and be bald until the permanent hair comes in.”
    There was a card on the bassinet.
Wolfe,
it said. He didn't know what he felt. Perhaps he just felt
strange
. Wolfe. His name. This
person
asleep there had his name. This
person
was attached to him and would be all her life, even if they should never meet again. And he stood there looking at the small heap of pink with the thatch of hair.
    â€œWe have the most gorgeous room for her. This decorator got somebody who painted the walls with Mother Goose murals.” Lillian was in an excited mood, full of chat. “And the nanny's room adjoins. Really, really lovely, the whole business. I want you to see it, Donald. Feel free to visit. Just call up first, that's all you have to do. I want everything to be friendly, Donald, and Howard agrees.”
    His eyes went back to the name on the card: Wolfe. And a stranger in his generosity was providing all this “lovely business”! Anger that he knew to be unreasonable rose, lumped in his throat, and was brought under control.
    â€œIt's I who will provide for her future,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow morning I will open an account for her education. What are your thoughts about her name?”
    â€œOh, I'm having the worst time trying to decide! I thought for a while of
Bettina,
like my friend in Florence. She'd be
Tina
for short. Then I thought of
Antonia,
Toni for short. What do you think?”
    â€œTo tell you the truth, I don't like either one.”
    â€œThen give me a suggestion.”
    â€œI've never thought much about girls' names. But maybe something more everyday, not so different.”
    â€œWhat? Like Cathy or Jennifer? Every other American girl has a name like those.”
    â€œWell, she's an American girl.” Then he thought of something. “Perhaps we could name her after my mother. I would like that, if you don't mind it. Her name was Jane.”
    â€œJane! Oh, for heaven's sake,
Jane
!”
    â€œWell then, after your mother. It's a nice custom, I think.”
    â€œThat's the last thing I'd do. I never liked my mother.”
    Something about the way she said it, something even beyond the meaning of the words, her defiant stance, and the ugly challenge in her tone, affected Donald so that he could not help but respond.
    â€œI have thought sometimes