Remember WENN and it's characters are copyright AMC, /Howard Meltzer Productions and Rupert Holmes. No infringement is intended. The story however, you can blame on me. ;-)
This is a "What if . . ." story that I wanted to write because the subject matter is too tempting for words! And, I'm tired of writing sob stories. :-)(Jan '99-- LOL, In retrospect, this is funny!) If you really want to place it in continuity, I'd say somewhere between Magic & Prior to Broadway. Take the dinglehopper in the road, and you'll find this story. ;-) This one is just for fun. Enjoy it.
I'd been tossing this idea around and it never really came to fruition until Katie the WENNfreak put a scene into my head that was just way too precious. Thanks Katie!!
Let me know what you think. :-)
*thoughts*
Baby Singer
by Michele Savage
FEBRUARY, 1941
Hilary strolled into the studio, just returning from what was her second trip to the ladies room during Bedside Manor. Jeff noted that she looked a bit tired and drawn. He gave her a concerned smile.
"Hilary darling, are you feeling better," he asked.
She smiled weakly and nodded, "Umm, hmm."
Mackie spoke up, as Travers, "Perhaps a cup of Ingram's coffee would make you feel better, Miss Hilary."
"Oh yes," Hilary agreed for the listening audience; although a cup of -anything- at the moment sounded horrid to her.
"And how about a nice breakfast with my specialty. Soft boiled egg, with toast for dipping." Mackie continued, little realizing what the thought was doing to Hilary's stomach.
Jeff, noting the sour look on his wife's face, tried to get Mackie's attention to stop him from making her even sicker. He was too late.
Hilary clamped a hand over her mouth and rushed out of the studio, again. This time Jeff followed her, leaving Mackie alone in the studio, yet again to ponder why exactly he enjoyed live radio.
Jeff stood outside the ladies room door waiting for her. Maple walked into the front door and to the coat rack to hang her coat. "Maple!" He gestured for her to come over to him.
"Hiya, Jeff" She said as she walked up to him.
"Maple, do me a favor. Go check on Hilary."
At Maple's questioning look, Jeff explained, "She's been sick all morning."
"Okay," Maple said, humoring him and entering the ladies room.
Jeff sat on a chair in the lobby to wait. He wasn't surprised when Betty flew around the corner.
"Jeff! You're on the air. At least you're supposed to be! Where's Hilary?" she asked in an annoyed tone without taking a breath.
Jeff glanced toward the door across from where he sat.
Betty gave him an odd look. "Since when do you have to take Hilary to the powder room?"
At that moment the door opened and both women exited. Jeff immediately went to Hilary's side.
"Darling?"
"I'm fine, Jeffrey." She brushed past him, "We're in the middle of a show, remember?"
Jeff shot Maple a questioning look as Hilary rounded the corner on her way back to Studio A. Maple shrugged and started down the same hall, yet turned into the green room. Betty crossed her arms and gave Jeff an expectant stare.
"I'm going." He told her and followed Hilary down the hall.
* * * * *
A week later found Hilary pacing the length of the green room trying to digest the news she'd just received. And that morning's donut.
*Okay, so how do I feel about this?* She wasn't sure. On one hand, she truly liked the idea. On the other, well, she wasn't really sure. It was still so hard to comprehend.
Jeffrey, she knew would be overjoyed. *Jeff. How do I tell him?*
"Tell him what?"
Hilary jumped at the voice. She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud.
"Betty! I didn't hear you come in."
"You were lost in thought." Betty acknowledged, stirring the cup of cocoa she'd just made for herself.
"Yes. Yes, I was." Hilary hesitated, then sat down at the table next to her colleague. "I'm trying to decide how to tell Jeffrey something
"Is it important?" Betty asked, gingerly taking a sip of the hot liquid.
"You could say that." Hilary smiled. "We're going to have a baby." She was surprised at how easily that slipped out. Maybe she was warming to the idea after all.
"We are? Uh . . . you are?" Betty grinned excitedly, "Oh, Hilary, that's wonderful!" She noticed the reserved look on the other woman's face. "It is wonderful . . . isn't it?" Betty questioned, confused.
"It is," Hilary sighed, "But, I've never really thought of myself as a mother."
"Hilary, you'll be a great mother." Betty assured. "And I get the feeling you'll have plenty of help."
"I don't doubt that."
Betty looked at her watch. "My break is over. Back to the scripts."
"You won't tell anyone? At least until I can tell Jeffrey?" Hilary asked.
"Of course not. Your secret is safe with me." Betty told her as she started toward the door.
Hilary left the room herself, joining Jeff and Mackie in the studio for The Hands of Time.
* * * * *
After the show, Jeff and Hilary left Mackie with the news and walked to the water cooler.
"Darling, I'm hungry. Why don't we go to The Buttery and get something to eat?" Hilary asked.
"Sure Hilary," Jeff answered. "But yesterday you told me the smell of the tomato surprise was making you sick."
"That's nothing new, darling." She smiled and hooked her arm into his. "Let's go eat lunch." They left the studio, with Jeff holding the door for Hilary.
Betty watched them leave with a smile on her face. Maple poked her arm, "What's that grin for?"
"Jeff and Hilary just left."
"You suppose she'll get around to telling him about the baby?"
Betty looked at Maple surprised, "How did you know?"
"She's been throwing up breakfast for the past two weeks. What else can it be?"
"The Buttery's donuts."
"Good point." Maple laughed, "I need to get on the air before Mackie has my head."
"Oh, Maple," Betty stopped her. "Hilary doesn't want anybody to know until after she's told Jeff."
"My lips are sealed."
Hilary decided, just after they stepped off the elevator, that she didn't want to say anything in public. She wanted to do this privately. "Jeff. Let's . . . take a walk."
He stopped, "A walk? Hilary it's cold outside."
"I know, love. Wait . . ." she grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the elevators.
"Hilary . . ." Jeff, confused, wondered why she was acting so strangely. Not that she normally didn't act strange, but this was odd, even for her.
Hilary waited until she could catch an empty elevator, then pulled the operator out of the car and Jeffrey into it. Once the doors shut and the car started moving, she pushed the emergency stop button effectively trapping them between floors.
"Darling, what are you doing?" Jeff asked, thoroughly lost.
"Jeffrey, I have something to tell you."
"You went to all this trouble to tell me something?" he said, starting to get a little annoyed.
"Well, it's not just -any- something." She snapped, indignant that he'd belittle what she had to tell him.
Jeff held out his hands, "Okay, let's start over.
She nodded, agreeing with him.
"What is it that you have to tell me?"
Hilary opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She suddenly couldn't say it. *I'm having a baby, how difficult is that?!* she inwardly argued. She turned and walked toward the opposite wall. *Jeffrey, I'm pregnant,* she rehearsed in her mind, *Darling, we're having a baby.*
"Hilary!"
She turned when he yelled her name and leaned against the elevator wall. Suddenly she imagined him holding a baby. His baby. And it became so easy. She closed the gap between them, and took his hands.
"You're going to be a father, Pumpkin." She told him softly.
"I . . . what?!" Jeff asked, unsure he'd heard her right.
Hilary smiled, "I said . . ."
"I'm havin . . .er we're having . . . you're having a baby." Jeff stammered, realizing he -had- heard her right.
"Yes." she laughed.
"Hilary!" He swept her into his arms and kissed her happily.
She pushed him away slightly, "Jeffrey dear, you're crushing me."
"Sorry," he apologized and loosened his embrace. He knelt and placed a hand against her stomach, and repeated his apology.
Hilary felt her reservations slowly fading as Jeff's enthusiasm started to affect her as well.
"When?" He asked, gently rubbing her stomach.
"November. Likely the beginning of the month."
"Hilary, "Jeff asked, seriously, "You never mentioned wanting to have a baby."
She slid down the wall, within Jeff's arms, and sat on his bent leg, "Call it, a happy accident." She smiled when he did, "I'll admit, having a child wasn't exactly at the top of my list of things to accomplish." She thought for a moment and continued, "I'm not sure it was even on the list."
"But, though I'm loathe to admit it, I'm not getting any younger.
And you, more than any man I've ever known, deserve to be a father. It's me that I'm not sure about."
Jeff held Hilary close to him and moved so they both sat on the floor of the elevator. He caressed her face, and smiled, "Darling, any child would be lucky to have you for a mother.
"I don't know about that." She protested softly.
"Hilary, when I came back from London last year, what did you do for the first six months?"
"I stayed awake with you when you had trouble falling asleep," she answered.
He took her hand, "And?"
She nestled into the crook of his shoulder, "I keep the hall light on so the bedroom isn't completely dark."
Jeff leaned slightly and dropped a light kiss on her forehead, "And you wake up in the middle of the night when I have nightmares." At her confused look, he told her, "I'm sure I have nightmares. I may not remember them, but some mornings you look like you haven't slept the entire night. I don't know of any other reason you'd be awake."
He brushed a kiss across her mouth, "Darling, I can't love you enough for that"
"Jeffrey . . ." she whispered.
He pressed a finger against her lips, quieting her. "So Hilary Booth, I don't want to hear another word about you not being a good mother."
"Yes sir," she grinned and gave him a mocking salute.
Jeff laughed and leaned back against the wall, "What do you think about 'Margarita'?" he asked, joking.
"No." Hilary refused flatly, returning his smile. "What about . . . Victor."
Jeff glanced at her, and seeing she was serious, nodded that he liked it.
"You know, we've got a lot to do."
"We've got nine months to do it in, Pumpkin. Plenty of time. Time . . . we have a show to do in--", Hilary looked at the watch on Jeff's wrist, "oh, no. . . five minutes ago." They stood and she pushed the stop button again, starting the elevator, then pushed the fourth floor button. "Betty's going to have our hides."
"Wouldn't be the first time." Jeff grinned. "Hilary?"
"Yes, darling?"
"I love you."
She smiled. "I love you too."
* * * * *
They walked into the station to find Betty pacing briskly at the front door, two scripts in her hand.
"Here, Mackie is in there with Scott. Rescue him, please."
"Scott's on the air?" Hilary asked. "Is that safe?"
"It was either Scott or Mr. Eldridge."
"I see your point," Jeff took his script from Betty and rushed down the hall.
Hilary moved to follow, but Betty grabbed her arm and pulled her out of Gertie's earshot. "Did you tell him?"
Hilary answered the question with a nod, "Sorry we're late."
"I'll forgive you. -This time-." Betty smiled.
"Hilary," Gertie spoke up, "You probably should get in there before those three destroy what's left of Valiant Journey."
"Oh, right!" Hilary dashed off to Studio A.
Gertie rolled her eyes, then looked at Betty. "Tell him what?"
"Gertie, there's nothing wrong with your hearing, is there?"
"I'm a receptionist, Betty. It's part of the job description. Well?"
Betty smiled, "It's nothing you won't find out about eventually." She said cryptically and walked off toward the writers' room.
Gertie harrumphed, "No one ever tells me anything." She turned to answer the ringing phone.
JULY, 1941
Hilary sat lengthwise on the couch quite comfortably, a pillow propped behind her back. Mackie handed her a magazine to read.
"Do you need anything else," he asked.
She forced a smile and said, "No." through clenched teeth.
"Okay then." Mackie smiled not noticing her ire. "Holler if you need anything." He said as he left the green room.
Jeff walked through the door as it was still swinging and was the unfortunate recipient of a pillow in the chest. "I take it from the height this was aimed it was meant for Mackie.
"He's driving me crazy." Hilary growled, "I'm pregnant, not dying. I don't need to be waited on."
Jeff cocked his head, "Did I just hear you right? You don't need to be waited on? You are my wife, right?" He sat, moving her legs so they rested across his lap.
She smiled, "At least not unless it's necessary. Give it three months."
"Ah yes, the Hilary Booth I know and love."
"Can I have that pillow back please?"
Jeff laughed and tossed the pillow at her. "You will never change."
"If I changed, Jeffrey Singer, you'd be bored."
Maple walked into the green room and threw a script onto the table. "Hi, you two." She grabbed a root beer out of the small refrigerator, opened the bottle and sat in the chair closest to where her script had landed. "How're you feeling, Hilary?"
"I'm fine," she snapped. "Hilary is fine. The baby is fine. I'm going to start posting that on the wall daily so you people will quit asking me every five minutes." She huffed out of the room, the door swinging behind her.
"What is with her today," Maple looked at Jeff, "Do you know, you're the only person she hasn't verbally attacked?"
"I get plenty of it at home, believe me."
"I bet you do."
* * * * *
Hilary stared at her reflection in the mirror of the small vanity in the powder room. She took a deep cleansing breath and realized she should probably apologize to Maple. Of course, if she apologized to Maple, she'd have to do the same for everyone else.
She felt a small flutter in her stomach and smiled. "Okay, I'll apologize. You're just as bad as your father."
The idea of becoming a parent was growing on Hilary as rapidly as the little one she was carrying. She still had second thoughts, but they were fewer and farther between the feelings of joy. Who knew that she, Hilary Booth, would actually be looking forward to changing diapers. She chuckled. *Score that one for the record books.*
She was shaken from her reverie by the knock on the door.
"Darling, Brent and Elizabeth can't speak without us." Jeff said from the other side of the door.
Hilary looked at the clock. She hadn't realized it was that time already. She moved to leave the room.
"Are you all right?" Jeff asked, then realizing what he'd just asked, threw up his arms in surrender. "Don't shoot me, I'm just concerned."
She smiled. "I should go tell Maple that I'm sorry."
Jeff gave her a cockeyed grin, "Are you sure you're all right?"
Hilary smacked him in the stomach with her arm in response and walked past him.
"You know, I'm starting to get a permanent bruise there," he followed her down the hall.
She abruptly turned, grabbed his collar and pulled him close. "Maybe later I'll kiss it and make it better," she whispered seductively against his mouth.
Jeff pushed her to within an arms length, "Don't tempt me, Darling. Not at ten seconds to air."
She suggestively mouthed, "later" and pushed both doors to the studio open disappearing inside leaving Jeff to contemplate whether or not he had time for a glass of cold water.
SEPTEMBER, 1941
Jeffrey sat at the table in the green room and stretched his long form tiredly, enjoying the moment of peace while Hilary was on the air. God knows he loves her, but she's trying every last bit of patience he owns.
Betty walked into the green room. "You look exhausted." she patted his shoulder as she walked past.
"I am. Hilary has me running everywhere doing things for her." He smiled, "I'm beginning to think my name is 'Pumpkin would you'."
Betty returned his smile and sat down with him. "We'll be glad to help any way we can, Jeff."
"Can you fix barbecue ribs at two in the morning?"
Betty raised her eyebrows at the odd statement.
"Yes, at two o'clock this morning my wife decided she wanted; no, needed barbecue ribs. Smokehouse Joe's is closed by then. Thank god O'Malley's serves ribs." Jeff rubbed his eyes. "At two thirty, I was on the phone with Joseph O'Malley asking him if he still had ribs left. He thought I was crazy, but when I explained -why- I needed them, he laughed and said he'd drop them off on his way home." He sat straight, turned and leaned his elbows on the table. "Why can't she crave pickles like everyone else?"
"Because she's Hilary Booth." Betty retorted.
"Of course." he deadpanned, leaning his head against one arm and forcing himself to stay awake.
Maple and Mackie walked through the doors laughing. They'd just had a good rehearsal and were biding their time until Hilary was finished with "Supper with Hilary Booth"
"Hi Betty. Jeff." Mackie acknowledged the two already occupying the room. He walked to the hot plate to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"Mackie." Jeff tiredly answered.
"Jeff is a lii ...ttle tired." Betty observed.
"Oh, poor Jeff." Maple walked behind him and started to rub his shoulders.
He gave out a groan of pure pleasure, "Oh, Maple that feels good." He enjoyed her ministrations for a moment, then reminded her, "Hilary is going to walk through that door any moment. If she sees you rubbing my shoulders, I'm not responsible for your life."
Maple laughed, "I'm not afraid of Hilary."
"Good, because I really don't want you to stop." Jeff mumbled. He folded his arms on the table and lay his head down. He heard everyone get up and leave, but the hands on his shoulders stayed put, so he let himself doze off. Only when the hands started drifting lower down his back than he felt appropriate did Jeff stop her.
"Maple . . "
She smacked him on the shoulder. "Maple?!"
He sat up, suddenly wide awake. "Hilary! I was . . . I didn't . . ."
"It's okay," Hilary smiled, gave his shoulders another squeeze and sat next to him. "I'll let you live."
"That's generous of you, darling." Jeff told her, unable to stop the yawn that followed.
"You look tired."
He gave Hilary a 'no kidding' look, "I was up in the middle of the night trying to find ribs for someone who fell asleep before she could eat them."
"I'm sorry about that, I just couldn't stay awake. Did you find any?"
"I called Joe O'Malley. He brought leftovers after he closed the pub."
"Ooh, how much leftovers?"
Jeff walked over to the small refrigerator and pulled out a plate. He warmed it on the hot plate and then set it in front of her.
"I knew there was a reason I loved you, Pumpkin."
OCTOBER, 1941
"What do you think about 'Charles'?" Hilary asked.
"Charles Singer?" Jeff replied, his face plainly showing his dislike.
They were laying in bed trying to agree on a name. Hilary had both pillows behind her back and Jeff lay on his left side facing her, propped on his arm. His other hand was resting on her stomach, feeling the movement of the baby.
"You're right, that sounds horrid." She grimaced, then turned to Jeff with a slight lift of her brow, "Charles Booth sounds better."
"Hilary."
"I'm joking." She smiled, "But you have to admit, it does sound better."
"By a margin."
"Robert Singer?" Hilary tried again.
"Robert Victor Singer." Jeff mulled it over then decided he didn't like that either. "It'd just get shortened to Bob, and I'm not sure I like Bob Singer
"Neither do I." She agreed. "You have any ideas?"
"What about girl's names?" Jeff asked, realizing that all along they had been discussing names for boys. "Catherine?"
Her back beginning to bother her, Hilary re-situated herself. "Catherine. I like that." She wrote it down on the sheet of paper she was using for names.
"Jeffrey dear, could you rub my back. It's starting to ache again."
"All right, darling." He sat and, moving the pillows, slid behind her. He situated her between his legs where he could easily reach her back.
"That's nice," she sighed.
"Ruth?" Jeff asked, knowing the answer that would get him. He waited with a grin.
"Ruth?!" She snapped, "I am not naming my. . ."
"Our"
"Yes . . . my child after Ruth Getty."
"I didn't say anything about Ruth Getty." He objected, "Though I suppose that means 'Grace' is out of the question." That response got him rewarded with an elbow in the stomach.
"I'm teasing you, Hilary."
"I know you are, Pumpkin. That's why you didn't get hit harder."
He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Hilary so she lay fully against him. He wrapped his arms around her, "Listen."
"I don't hear anything."
"Umm hmm, that silence will be gone in a few weeks." He lay a hand on her stomach, "It won't be long before we hear a baby crying in the next room.
"Or we have a four year old climbing into bed with us because she, or he is scared," she continued.
Jeff laughed softly, "We won't lack for baby-sitters. Even Scott has offered, though I worry about his influence."
"Oh, I don't know. I think he's been good for Betty." Hilary observed.
"Really?"
"She took it hard when Victor died." Hilary took Jeff's hand in hers as if to remind herself that he was there. She still found it difficult to talk about that night. "She retreated even further into that shell of hers. Scotty's opened her up."
Jeff thought about it, "You're right, I hadn't really noticed."
"Though the first time he calls me Hildy in front of our child, I'll grab a microphone cord, wrap it around his neck and pull hard."
Jeff chuckled, "Ah Hilary, you have such a vivid imagination."
"That's why you love me, darling."
He nibbled lightly at her neck, "That's one of the reasons."
She sighed, and lay her head back against his shoulder allowing him more access to her neck. "I rather like this reason."
"That's pretty obvious," he smiled against her neck and caressed her swollen stomach.
"Jeffrey . . ." she giggled lightly and enjoyed the feel of his touch, knowing that in the next few weeks and once the baby is born they would barely have time for each other.
NOVEMBER 12, 1941
Jeffrey sat on the couch in the small waiting room. He was the only person there, which was all well and good, because he was nervous enough for a room full of pacing men. He'd been there for four hours, but it felt more like ten.
She'd awakened him around two thirty, saying she'd been having pains for an hour. He called her doctor, who told him to wait until the contractions were closer together. At four thirty they'd decided it was time to get to the hospital.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the clear morning. He'd heard nightmare stories about deliveries from some of the other fellows at O'Malley's; things their wives had told them. He wanted to be with her, but the nurses said she'd be okay without him.
Would he be okay without her? Jeff shook off that morbid thought and sat back down. He bid his time by remembering the day he met Hilary Booth. He had distantly seen her before in The Rivals, but at the time she'd been just another actress. Albeit a darn good one.
It wasn't until Texas that he'd actually met her. He'd taken over the leading man role in the national tour of Razzle Dazzle in Dallas. Apparently the man whose shoes he was filling had royally mucked up a performance and Miss Booth had fired him onstage, insisting he never be allowed to work again. Jeff smiled as he remembered the first time he saw her.
. . . He waited outside the hotel room door with Arnold Fitzpatrick, the tour manager, nervously gripping the fedora he held in his hands. He'd heard countless horror stories from people who'd worked with Hilary Booth. The last thing he expected was the woman who threw open the door and glared at the man with him.
To say that Jeffrey Singer loved women was an understatement, but the auburn haired beauty who stood in front of him wearing a blue satin dressing gown woke something in him he never knew existed. He vaguely heard the man introduce him to her, and automatically held out his hand . . .
* * * * *
Hilary winced as another pain sharply tore through her abdomen. She wanted this to be over. Now. The nurses had been nice to her and made her as comfortable as she could be while in pain. But what she really needed was Jeffrey. To pass the time she concentrated on his face. And remembered that night in Dallas when he'd walked into her life.
. . . She hated tours, especially this one. She should still be in New York on a Broadway stage with this show, but Grace Cavendish had ruined that. So she was stuck in Dallas with a half-wit for a leading man. Last night's performance had been humiliating. If she had a sword she'd have run him through then and there. Instead she fired him. Loudly and on stage, drawing a round of applause. She was consoled by the fact that he'd likely never work again. Now she was waiting to meet her new co-star. God she hoped this one could act.
Hearing the knock, she stood and tightened the belt of her dressing gown as she walked to the door. She threw open the door and glared at Fitzpatrick thoroughly prepared to be unimpressed. That was until she saw the tall man standing behind him. She was impressed. Immensely. Jeffrey Singer, she'd heard the older man introduce, before he left them alone. He offered his hand and she automatically took it.
Heaven knows this wasn't the first man to grace her hotel room. But from the first moment she saw him she felt like a sixteen year old having her first schoolgirl crush . . .
Jeff walked to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. Looking at his watch again he noted the time. An hour had barely passed. He'd asked at the nurses station and they told him she still in the labor room, but it wouldn't be too much longer and they'd take her to the delivery room. He'd asked again if he could see her, but was told politely that everything was okay and he wasn't needed. Frustrated, he sat the coffee on the table and sat again on the couch, resuming his thought.
. . . "Would you like a drink?" She asked him, walking to the small wet bar in the corner of the room.
"Yes, thank you." He did need a drink. He threw his hat on a table and sat in an easy chair. Maybe a drink would loosen him up. Jeff couldn't remember being this nervous around any woman. Usually it was the other way around.
"I . . . saw you in The Rivals. You're a brilliant actress," he spoke up, starting a conversation.
"Oh," she stumbled uncharacteristically over the complement, "thank you." She handed him the glass.
She sat in a chair next to his and took a sip of the drink she'd made for herself, "I'm sorry to say I can't return the complement. I've never seen you perform."
The double entendre had apparently caught her as much by surprise as it had himself. He watched her get up and walk across the room. So rather than bring attention to it, he chose to take it as she'd meant it. "Do you have a script? We should rehearse anyway."
She laughed, as if he'd just asked her a very dumb question. "Of course I have a script."
He returned her smile, "Of course."
He stood and started to remove his suit coat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his mother, *Jeffrey, your manners* "Do you mind," he asked gesturing at his suit jacket.
"Why would I mind?" She said with a smile, gesturing to herself.
Jeff could tell by the surprised look on her face, that she'd completely forgotten she was just wearing a dressing gown.
"I should get dressed."
"No!" He said before his mind could stop him. "I . . . uh . . . I mean you look beaut . . .uh . . . I mean fine. You look fine." He smiled at her, knowing he'd just dug himself a hole he wasn't sure he wanted to get out of. He drank the rest of his drink in one swallow. This was going to be a long night . . .
Hilary took a deep breath and sighed. The pain had subsided for the moment. She asked the nurse for a drink of water. "Would you please tell my husband I'm okay. I'm sure he's worried," she told woman who'd brought her the water. The nurse nodded and promised she would give Jeff the message.
With that off her mind, Hilary went back to her memories.
. . . She took a long drink from her glass. This was shaping up to be a long night. Why the heck was she so flustered. You'd think after a few failed marriages, one man wouldn't faze her. She took another drink. You'd think. Maybe she -should- get dressed.
"The script?" he asked.
"Do you want another drink?" she asked fixing herself one.
"I could use one."
She refilled his glass and gave it back to him. "Do you think you'll know everything by tomorrow night?" As soon as it left her mouth she realized she'd blundered again. Sigmund Freud must be having a good laugh at her expense, she thought.
This time he chose not to ignore the entendre. "The script, or . . ." he let his voice trail off. He put his drink down and stood. "I give up," he said, pulled her against him and kissed her hungrily.
She struggled for a moment, due to surprise, but returned his kiss with equal vigor . . .
Jeff called WENN again to give them an update and to give himself something to do. He was glad to have gotten the message from Hilary. He felt better knowing she was all right. He looked at his watch again.
Noon.
"Mr. Singer."
He looked toward the mention of his name.
"They've just taken your wife to the delivery room. It shouldn't be long now."
He smiled and thanked the nurse. He walked again to the window, staring into the sun drenched day and back into his reminiscing.
. . . The sun was in his eyes. He rolled away from the offending light and into someone. Into someone? He opened his eyes, and realized he was in bed, well actually it was the floor, with Hilary Booth. This was not in the game plan. Getting a job had been the plan. Getting the leading lady had not been. Especially not less than an hour after he'd met her. His abrupt movement woke her
She stretched contentedly and smiled, "good morning."
"Morning," he repeated, confused by her lack of annoyance. "This doesn't bother you?" he gestured at the two of them. Come to think of it, why was it bothering him? It's not like he was seeing anyone at the moment. Anyone special anyway.
Seeing anyone! The light dawned. *Smooth one Singer, the way your luck runs she's married*
"Oh, it bothers me all right." she pulled his face toward hers and whispered against his lips, "Bother me more, pumpkin." . . .
Jeff smiled. That first week with Razzle Dazzle had been interesting. Their offstage relationship had flourished, as well as their onstage one. Fitzpatrick had given them both raises due to increased box office sales thanks to their chemistry.
The stay in Dallas had been extended through the first of the year, so he'd decided that some sightseeing was in order. They wandered the city, going to museums, theaters, and of course, hotels. For New Year, Jeff had wanted to do something different, so they went to Mexico. That's when everything changed.
. . . "Let's get married." Jeff suggested. They were laying in bed at a small motel in Matamoros.
"Married?!" She asked, surprised at the notion. "You mean, us?"
"Of course I mean us." He took her hand, "Hilary, you fascinate me. I want to spend every waking moment with you."
"Oh Jeffrey, no man has ever said that to me." Then she thought, "At least, I don't think so."
He kissed her and left the bed, pulling on his clothes. "Come on, I want to show you something.
They walked down the street to the store Jeff had seen the ring in. He had her try the wedding ring on and when it fit perfectly he decided that was a good sign and purchased it for her.
Later that evening they stood in front of a justice and vowed to love, honor and obey each other for the rest of their lives. . . .
The rest of their lives had lasted two weeks. It seemed like the moment they got married, all hell broke loose in their personal relationship. Suddenly they couldn't stand to be near each other. Ironically, they couldn't stay away from each other either.
The most amusing thing in this, is that their divorce had been completely unnecessary. When they'd returned from the second trip to Mexico, they were approached by Fitzpatrick with a whole new publicity campaign. "The National Tour show, whose leading couple was really married." So they'd covered up the divorce and 'stayed married'.
By the time they'd gotten to WENN their fake marriage was beginning to resemble a real one. The purely physical attraction was starting to give way to honest emotion. They had fallen in love without even realizing it. His near death experience in London had been a wake up call and they'd finally admitted the truth to one another. Now, he couldn't fathom life without Hilary in it.
Jeff walked again to the nurses station. Still no news, but soon. He was getting tired of that answer. Jeff sat and lay back, closing his eyes. He'd apparently drifted off because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder.
"Mr. Singer."
Jeff was awake in an instant. The doctor.
"Yes."
"Congratulations, you have a healthy daughter."
Jeff grinned widely, "a girl!" He stood, "Hilary?"
"She's fine. Come with me and I'll take you to her." The doctor led Jeff through the double doors and down a hallway to the private rooms in the maternity ward.
The older man pointed to a partially closed door and then left Jeff alone. He crept silently into the room, not wanting to disturb her if she was sleeping. She looked exhausted. He took her hand and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.
"Pumpkin," she said softly, waking at his touch.
He pulled a chair closer to the bedside so he could sit. "I'm here, sweetheart."
She smiled tiredly, "We have a little girl."
"Yes we do, darling." He returned her smile.
"Have you seen her yet?"
"No."
"She's beautiful." Hilary reached a hand up to caress her husband's cheek. "She's got your eyes. And my hair. . . and my cheekbones . . .and actually my eyelashes . . ."
Jeff turned slightly and kissed the palm of her hand, before taking it into his own. "I love you, Mrs. Singer."
"I love you too, Jeffrey." She answered, giving his hand a squeeze. "Did you think we'd ever make it this far?"
He laughed softly, "It's a wonder we made it past Razzle Dazzle."
She agreed with a small laugh, "You know, we should look up Arnold Fitzpatrick and thank him for that publicity stunt of his that kept us married.
"I'm just glad it did." He leaned forward and softly kissed her lips.
A clearing throat alerted them to the presence of someone else.
Jeff stood and greeted the nurse who'd just entered the room carrying the baby. She walked to the bedside and asked with a smile if he would like to hold his daughter.
He reverently took the baby from the nurse and cradled her gently in his arms. He caressed her tiny hand and walked to the opposite side of the room, wanting to have the first few moments alone.
After making sure Hilary was all right, the nurse left the room, leaving the new family alone.
Jeff sat in the chair next to the curtained window, and studied the tiny form of the infant he held. She -was- perfect. From the tufts of reddish brown hair to her tiny little toes. "So you're the little pumpkin that made me hunt for spare ribs in the middle of the night," he whispered softly.
As Hilary watched her husband bond with their child, she thought again of their past and their present and wondered what the future would bring.
* * * * *
"Folks, we interrupt this broadcast for some very good news. WENN would like to welcome Elizabeth Booth Singer to our family. Mother and daughter are doing fine. This is Mackie Bloom, we now return you to our regularly scheduled program . . ."
The End
To be continued, due to popular demand. :-)
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This is a "What if . . ." story that I wanted to write because the subject matter is too tempting for words! And, I'm tired of writing sob stories. :-)(Jan '99-- LOL, In retrospect, this is funny!) If you really want to place it in continuity, I'd say somewhere between Magic & Prior to Broadway. Take the dinglehopper in the road, and you'll find this story. ;-) This one is just for fun. Enjoy it.
I'd been tossing this idea around and it never really came to fruition until Katie the WENNfreak put a scene into my head that was just way too precious. Thanks Katie!!
Let me know what you think. :-)
*thoughts*
Baby Singer
by Michele Savage
FEBRUARY, 1941
Hilary strolled into the studio, just returning from what was her second trip to the ladies room during Bedside Manor. Jeff noted that she looked a bit tired and drawn. He gave her a concerned smile.
"Hilary darling, are you feeling better," he asked.
She smiled weakly and nodded, "Umm, hmm."
Mackie spoke up, as Travers, "Perhaps a cup of Ingram's coffee would make you feel better, Miss Hilary."
"Oh yes," Hilary agreed for the listening audience; although a cup of -anything- at the moment sounded horrid to her.
"And how about a nice breakfast with my specialty. Soft boiled egg, with toast for dipping." Mackie continued, little realizing what the thought was doing to Hilary's stomach.
Jeff, noting the sour look on his wife's face, tried to get Mackie's attention to stop him from making her even sicker. He was too late.
Hilary clamped a hand over her mouth and rushed out of the studio, again. This time Jeff followed her, leaving Mackie alone in the studio, yet again to ponder why exactly he enjoyed live radio.
Jeff stood outside the ladies room door waiting for her. Maple walked into the front door and to the coat rack to hang her coat. "Maple!" He gestured for her to come over to him.
"Hiya, Jeff" She said as she walked up to him.
"Maple, do me a favor. Go check on Hilary."
At Maple's questioning look, Jeff explained, "She's been sick all morning."
"Okay," Maple said, humoring him and entering the ladies room.
Jeff sat on a chair in the lobby to wait. He wasn't surprised when Betty flew around the corner.
"Jeff! You're on the air. At least you're supposed to be! Where's Hilary?" she asked in an annoyed tone without taking a breath.
Jeff glanced toward the door across from where he sat.
Betty gave him an odd look. "Since when do you have to take Hilary to the powder room?"
At that moment the door opened and both women exited. Jeff immediately went to Hilary's side.
"Darling?"
"I'm fine, Jeffrey." She brushed past him, "We're in the middle of a show, remember?"
Jeff shot Maple a questioning look as Hilary rounded the corner on her way back to Studio A. Maple shrugged and started down the same hall, yet turned into the green room. Betty crossed her arms and gave Jeff an expectant stare.
"I'm going." He told her and followed Hilary down the hall.
* * * * *
A week later found Hilary pacing the length of the green room trying to digest the news she'd just received. And that morning's donut.
*Okay, so how do I feel about this?* She wasn't sure. On one hand, she truly liked the idea. On the other, well, she wasn't really sure. It was still so hard to comprehend.
Jeffrey, she knew would be overjoyed. *Jeff. How do I tell him?*
"Tell him what?"
Hilary jumped at the voice. She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud.
"Betty! I didn't hear you come in."
"You were lost in thought." Betty acknowledged, stirring the cup of cocoa she'd just made for herself.
"Yes. Yes, I was." Hilary hesitated, then sat down at the table next to her colleague. "I'm trying to decide how to tell Jeffrey something
"Is it important?" Betty asked, gingerly taking a sip of the hot liquid.
"You could say that." Hilary smiled. "We're going to have a baby." She was surprised at how easily that slipped out. Maybe she was warming to the idea after all.
"We are? Uh . . . you are?" Betty grinned excitedly, "Oh, Hilary, that's wonderful!" She noticed the reserved look on the other woman's face. "It is wonderful . . . isn't it?" Betty questioned, confused.
"It is," Hilary sighed, "But, I've never really thought of myself as a mother."
"Hilary, you'll be a great mother." Betty assured. "And I get the feeling you'll have plenty of help."
"I don't doubt that."
Betty looked at her watch. "My break is over. Back to the scripts."
"You won't tell anyone? At least until I can tell Jeffrey?" Hilary asked.
"Of course not. Your secret is safe with me." Betty told her as she started toward the door.
Hilary left the room herself, joining Jeff and Mackie in the studio for The Hands of Time.
* * * * *
After the show, Jeff and Hilary left Mackie with the news and walked to the water cooler.
"Darling, I'm hungry. Why don't we go to The Buttery and get something to eat?" Hilary asked.
"Sure Hilary," Jeff answered. "But yesterday you told me the smell of the tomato surprise was making you sick."
"That's nothing new, darling." She smiled and hooked her arm into his. "Let's go eat lunch." They left the studio, with Jeff holding the door for Hilary.
Betty watched them leave with a smile on her face. Maple poked her arm, "What's that grin for?"
"Jeff and Hilary just left."
"You suppose she'll get around to telling him about the baby?"
Betty looked at Maple surprised, "How did you know?"
"She's been throwing up breakfast for the past two weeks. What else can it be?"
"The Buttery's donuts."
"Good point." Maple laughed, "I need to get on the air before Mackie has my head."
"Oh, Maple," Betty stopped her. "Hilary doesn't want anybody to know until after she's told Jeff."
"My lips are sealed."
Hilary decided, just after they stepped off the elevator, that she didn't want to say anything in public. She wanted to do this privately. "Jeff. Let's . . . take a walk."
He stopped, "A walk? Hilary it's cold outside."
"I know, love. Wait . . ." she grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the elevators.
"Hilary . . ." Jeff, confused, wondered why she was acting so strangely. Not that she normally didn't act strange, but this was odd, even for her.
Hilary waited until she could catch an empty elevator, then pulled the operator out of the car and Jeffrey into it. Once the doors shut and the car started moving, she pushed the emergency stop button effectively trapping them between floors.
"Darling, what are you doing?" Jeff asked, thoroughly lost.
"Jeffrey, I have something to tell you."
"You went to all this trouble to tell me something?" he said, starting to get a little annoyed.
"Well, it's not just -any- something." She snapped, indignant that he'd belittle what she had to tell him.
Jeff held out his hands, "Okay, let's start over.
She nodded, agreeing with him.
"What is it that you have to tell me?"
Hilary opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She suddenly couldn't say it. *I'm having a baby, how difficult is that?!* she inwardly argued. She turned and walked toward the opposite wall. *Jeffrey, I'm pregnant,* she rehearsed in her mind, *Darling, we're having a baby.*
"Hilary!"
She turned when he yelled her name and leaned against the elevator wall. Suddenly she imagined him holding a baby. His baby. And it became so easy. She closed the gap between them, and took his hands.
"You're going to be a father, Pumpkin." She told him softly.
"I . . . what?!" Jeff asked, unsure he'd heard her right.
Hilary smiled, "I said . . ."
"I'm havin . . .er we're having . . . you're having a baby." Jeff stammered, realizing he -had- heard her right.
"Yes." she laughed.
"Hilary!" He swept her into his arms and kissed her happily.
She pushed him away slightly, "Jeffrey dear, you're crushing me."
"Sorry," he apologized and loosened his embrace. He knelt and placed a hand against her stomach, and repeated his apology.
Hilary felt her reservations slowly fading as Jeff's enthusiasm started to affect her as well.
"When?" He asked, gently rubbing her stomach.
"November. Likely the beginning of the month."
"Hilary, "Jeff asked, seriously, "You never mentioned wanting to have a baby."
She slid down the wall, within Jeff's arms, and sat on his bent leg, "Call it, a happy accident." She smiled when he did, "I'll admit, having a child wasn't exactly at the top of my list of things to accomplish." She thought for a moment and continued, "I'm not sure it was even on the list."
"But, though I'm loathe to admit it, I'm not getting any younger.
And you, more than any man I've ever known, deserve to be a father. It's me that I'm not sure about."
Jeff held Hilary close to him and moved so they both sat on the floor of the elevator. He caressed her face, and smiled, "Darling, any child would be lucky to have you for a mother.
"I don't know about that." She protested softly.
"Hilary, when I came back from London last year, what did you do for the first six months?"
"I stayed awake with you when you had trouble falling asleep," she answered.
He took her hand, "And?"
She nestled into the crook of his shoulder, "I keep the hall light on so the bedroom isn't completely dark."
Jeff leaned slightly and dropped a light kiss on her forehead, "And you wake up in the middle of the night when I have nightmares." At her confused look, he told her, "I'm sure I have nightmares. I may not remember them, but some mornings you look like you haven't slept the entire night. I don't know of any other reason you'd be awake."
He brushed a kiss across her mouth, "Darling, I can't love you enough for that"
"Jeffrey . . ." she whispered.
He pressed a finger against her lips, quieting her. "So Hilary Booth, I don't want to hear another word about you not being a good mother."
"Yes sir," she grinned and gave him a mocking salute.
Jeff laughed and leaned back against the wall, "What do you think about 'Margarita'?" he asked, joking.
"No." Hilary refused flatly, returning his smile. "What about . . . Victor."
Jeff glanced at her, and seeing she was serious, nodded that he liked it.
"You know, we've got a lot to do."
"We've got nine months to do it in, Pumpkin. Plenty of time. Time . . . we have a show to do in--", Hilary looked at the watch on Jeff's wrist, "oh, no. . . five minutes ago." They stood and she pushed the stop button again, starting the elevator, then pushed the fourth floor button. "Betty's going to have our hides."
"Wouldn't be the first time." Jeff grinned. "Hilary?"
"Yes, darling?"
"I love you."
She smiled. "I love you too."
* * * * *
They walked into the station to find Betty pacing briskly at the front door, two scripts in her hand.
"Here, Mackie is in there with Scott. Rescue him, please."
"Scott's on the air?" Hilary asked. "Is that safe?"
"It was either Scott or Mr. Eldridge."
"I see your point," Jeff took his script from Betty and rushed down the hall.
Hilary moved to follow, but Betty grabbed her arm and pulled her out of Gertie's earshot. "Did you tell him?"
Hilary answered the question with a nod, "Sorry we're late."
"I'll forgive you. -This time-." Betty smiled.
"Hilary," Gertie spoke up, "You probably should get in there before those three destroy what's left of Valiant Journey."
"Oh, right!" Hilary dashed off to Studio A.
Gertie rolled her eyes, then looked at Betty. "Tell him what?"
"Gertie, there's nothing wrong with your hearing, is there?"
"I'm a receptionist, Betty. It's part of the job description. Well?"
Betty smiled, "It's nothing you won't find out about eventually." She said cryptically and walked off toward the writers' room.
Gertie harrumphed, "No one ever tells me anything." She turned to answer the ringing phone.
JULY, 1941
Hilary sat lengthwise on the couch quite comfortably, a pillow propped behind her back. Mackie handed her a magazine to read.
"Do you need anything else," he asked.
She forced a smile and said, "No." through clenched teeth.
"Okay then." Mackie smiled not noticing her ire. "Holler if you need anything." He said as he left the green room.
Jeff walked through the door as it was still swinging and was the unfortunate recipient of a pillow in the chest. "I take it from the height this was aimed it was meant for Mackie.
"He's driving me crazy." Hilary growled, "I'm pregnant, not dying. I don't need to be waited on."
Jeff cocked his head, "Did I just hear you right? You don't need to be waited on? You are my wife, right?" He sat, moving her legs so they rested across his lap.
She smiled, "At least not unless it's necessary. Give it three months."
"Ah yes, the Hilary Booth I know and love."
"Can I have that pillow back please?"
Jeff laughed and tossed the pillow at her. "You will never change."
"If I changed, Jeffrey Singer, you'd be bored."
Maple walked into the green room and threw a script onto the table. "Hi, you two." She grabbed a root beer out of the small refrigerator, opened the bottle and sat in the chair closest to where her script had landed. "How're you feeling, Hilary?"
"I'm fine," she snapped. "Hilary is fine. The baby is fine. I'm going to start posting that on the wall daily so you people will quit asking me every five minutes." She huffed out of the room, the door swinging behind her.
"What is with her today," Maple looked at Jeff, "Do you know, you're the only person she hasn't verbally attacked?"
"I get plenty of it at home, believe me."
"I bet you do."
* * * * *
Hilary stared at her reflection in the mirror of the small vanity in the powder room. She took a deep cleansing breath and realized she should probably apologize to Maple. Of course, if she apologized to Maple, she'd have to do the same for everyone else.
She felt a small flutter in her stomach and smiled. "Okay, I'll apologize. You're just as bad as your father."
The idea of becoming a parent was growing on Hilary as rapidly as the little one she was carrying. She still had second thoughts, but they were fewer and farther between the feelings of joy. Who knew that she, Hilary Booth, would actually be looking forward to changing diapers. She chuckled. *Score that one for the record books.*
She was shaken from her reverie by the knock on the door.
"Darling, Brent and Elizabeth can't speak without us." Jeff said from the other side of the door.
Hilary looked at the clock. She hadn't realized it was that time already. She moved to leave the room.
"Are you all right?" Jeff asked, then realizing what he'd just asked, threw up his arms in surrender. "Don't shoot me, I'm just concerned."
She smiled. "I should go tell Maple that I'm sorry."
Jeff gave her a cockeyed grin, "Are you sure you're all right?"
Hilary smacked him in the stomach with her arm in response and walked past him.
"You know, I'm starting to get a permanent bruise there," he followed her down the hall.
She abruptly turned, grabbed his collar and pulled him close. "Maybe later I'll kiss it and make it better," she whispered seductively against his mouth.
Jeff pushed her to within an arms length, "Don't tempt me, Darling. Not at ten seconds to air."
She suggestively mouthed, "later" and pushed both doors to the studio open disappearing inside leaving Jeff to contemplate whether or not he had time for a glass of cold water.
SEPTEMBER, 1941
Jeffrey sat at the table in the green room and stretched his long form tiredly, enjoying the moment of peace while Hilary was on the air. God knows he loves her, but she's trying every last bit of patience he owns.
Betty walked into the green room. "You look exhausted." she patted his shoulder as she walked past.
"I am. Hilary has me running everywhere doing things for her." He smiled, "I'm beginning to think my name is 'Pumpkin would you'."
Betty returned his smile and sat down with him. "We'll be glad to help any way we can, Jeff."
"Can you fix barbecue ribs at two in the morning?"
Betty raised her eyebrows at the odd statement.
"Yes, at two o'clock this morning my wife decided she wanted; no, needed barbecue ribs. Smokehouse Joe's is closed by then. Thank god O'Malley's serves ribs." Jeff rubbed his eyes. "At two thirty, I was on the phone with Joseph O'Malley asking him if he still had ribs left. He thought I was crazy, but when I explained -why- I needed them, he laughed and said he'd drop them off on his way home." He sat straight, turned and leaned his elbows on the table. "Why can't she crave pickles like everyone else?"
"Because she's Hilary Booth." Betty retorted.
"Of course." he deadpanned, leaning his head against one arm and forcing himself to stay awake.
Maple and Mackie walked through the doors laughing. They'd just had a good rehearsal and were biding their time until Hilary was finished with "Supper with Hilary Booth"
"Hi Betty. Jeff." Mackie acknowledged the two already occupying the room. He walked to the hot plate to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"Mackie." Jeff tiredly answered.
"Jeff is a lii ...ttle tired." Betty observed.
"Oh, poor Jeff." Maple walked behind him and started to rub his shoulders.
He gave out a groan of pure pleasure, "Oh, Maple that feels good." He enjoyed her ministrations for a moment, then reminded her, "Hilary is going to walk through that door any moment. If she sees you rubbing my shoulders, I'm not responsible for your life."
Maple laughed, "I'm not afraid of Hilary."
"Good, because I really don't want you to stop." Jeff mumbled. He folded his arms on the table and lay his head down. He heard everyone get up and leave, but the hands on his shoulders stayed put, so he let himself doze off. Only when the hands started drifting lower down his back than he felt appropriate did Jeff stop her.
"Maple . . "
She smacked him on the shoulder. "Maple?!"
He sat up, suddenly wide awake. "Hilary! I was . . . I didn't . . ."
"It's okay," Hilary smiled, gave his shoulders another squeeze and sat next to him. "I'll let you live."
"That's generous of you, darling." Jeff told her, unable to stop the yawn that followed.
"You look tired."
He gave Hilary a 'no kidding' look, "I was up in the middle of the night trying to find ribs for someone who fell asleep before she could eat them."
"I'm sorry about that, I just couldn't stay awake. Did you find any?"
"I called Joe O'Malley. He brought leftovers after he closed the pub."
"Ooh, how much leftovers?"
Jeff walked over to the small refrigerator and pulled out a plate. He warmed it on the hot plate and then set it in front of her.
"I knew there was a reason I loved you, Pumpkin."
OCTOBER, 1941
"What do you think about 'Charles'?" Hilary asked.
"Charles Singer?" Jeff replied, his face plainly showing his dislike.
They were laying in bed trying to agree on a name. Hilary had both pillows behind her back and Jeff lay on his left side facing her, propped on his arm. His other hand was resting on her stomach, feeling the movement of the baby.
"You're right, that sounds horrid." She grimaced, then turned to Jeff with a slight lift of her brow, "Charles Booth sounds better."
"Hilary."
"I'm joking." She smiled, "But you have to admit, it does sound better."
"By a margin."
"Robert Singer?" Hilary tried again.
"Robert Victor Singer." Jeff mulled it over then decided he didn't like that either. "It'd just get shortened to Bob, and I'm not sure I like Bob Singer
"Neither do I." She agreed. "You have any ideas?"
"What about girl's names?" Jeff asked, realizing that all along they had been discussing names for boys. "Catherine?"
Her back beginning to bother her, Hilary re-situated herself. "Catherine. I like that." She wrote it down on the sheet of paper she was using for names.
"Jeffrey dear, could you rub my back. It's starting to ache again."
"All right, darling." He sat and, moving the pillows, slid behind her. He situated her between his legs where he could easily reach her back.
"That's nice," she sighed.
"Ruth?" Jeff asked, knowing the answer that would get him. He waited with a grin.
"Ruth?!" She snapped, "I am not naming my. . ."
"Our"
"Yes . . . my child after Ruth Getty."
"I didn't say anything about Ruth Getty." He objected, "Though I suppose that means 'Grace' is out of the question." That response got him rewarded with an elbow in the stomach.
"I'm teasing you, Hilary."
"I know you are, Pumpkin. That's why you didn't get hit harder."
He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Hilary so she lay fully against him. He wrapped his arms around her, "Listen."
"I don't hear anything."
"Umm hmm, that silence will be gone in a few weeks." He lay a hand on her stomach, "It won't be long before we hear a baby crying in the next room.
"Or we have a four year old climbing into bed with us because she, or he is scared," she continued.
Jeff laughed softly, "We won't lack for baby-sitters. Even Scott has offered, though I worry about his influence."
"Oh, I don't know. I think he's been good for Betty." Hilary observed.
"Really?"
"She took it hard when Victor died." Hilary took Jeff's hand in hers as if to remind herself that he was there. She still found it difficult to talk about that night. "She retreated even further into that shell of hers. Scotty's opened her up."
Jeff thought about it, "You're right, I hadn't really noticed."
"Though the first time he calls me Hildy in front of our child, I'll grab a microphone cord, wrap it around his neck and pull hard."
Jeff chuckled, "Ah Hilary, you have such a vivid imagination."
"That's why you love me, darling."
He nibbled lightly at her neck, "That's one of the reasons."
She sighed, and lay her head back against his shoulder allowing him more access to her neck. "I rather like this reason."
"That's pretty obvious," he smiled against her neck and caressed her swollen stomach.
"Jeffrey . . ." she giggled lightly and enjoyed the feel of his touch, knowing that in the next few weeks and once the baby is born they would barely have time for each other.
NOVEMBER 12, 1941
Jeffrey sat on the couch in the small waiting room. He was the only person there, which was all well and good, because he was nervous enough for a room full of pacing men. He'd been there for four hours, but it felt more like ten.
She'd awakened him around two thirty, saying she'd been having pains for an hour. He called her doctor, who told him to wait until the contractions were closer together. At four thirty they'd decided it was time to get to the hospital.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the clear morning. He'd heard nightmare stories about deliveries from some of the other fellows at O'Malley's; things their wives had told them. He wanted to be with her, but the nurses said she'd be okay without him.
Would he be okay without her? Jeff shook off that morbid thought and sat back down. He bid his time by remembering the day he met Hilary Booth. He had distantly seen her before in The Rivals, but at the time she'd been just another actress. Albeit a darn good one.
It wasn't until Texas that he'd actually met her. He'd taken over the leading man role in the national tour of Razzle Dazzle in Dallas. Apparently the man whose shoes he was filling had royally mucked up a performance and Miss Booth had fired him onstage, insisting he never be allowed to work again. Jeff smiled as he remembered the first time he saw her.
. . . He waited outside the hotel room door with Arnold Fitzpatrick, the tour manager, nervously gripping the fedora he held in his hands. He'd heard countless horror stories from people who'd worked with Hilary Booth. The last thing he expected was the woman who threw open the door and glared at the man with him.
To say that Jeffrey Singer loved women was an understatement, but the auburn haired beauty who stood in front of him wearing a blue satin dressing gown woke something in him he never knew existed. He vaguely heard the man introduce him to her, and automatically held out his hand . . .
* * * * *
Hilary winced as another pain sharply tore through her abdomen. She wanted this to be over. Now. The nurses had been nice to her and made her as comfortable as she could be while in pain. But what she really needed was Jeffrey. To pass the time she concentrated on his face. And remembered that night in Dallas when he'd walked into her life.
. . . She hated tours, especially this one. She should still be in New York on a Broadway stage with this show, but Grace Cavendish had ruined that. So she was stuck in Dallas with a half-wit for a leading man. Last night's performance had been humiliating. If she had a sword she'd have run him through then and there. Instead she fired him. Loudly and on stage, drawing a round of applause. She was consoled by the fact that he'd likely never work again. Now she was waiting to meet her new co-star. God she hoped this one could act.
Hearing the knock, she stood and tightened the belt of her dressing gown as she walked to the door. She threw open the door and glared at Fitzpatrick thoroughly prepared to be unimpressed. That was until she saw the tall man standing behind him. She was impressed. Immensely. Jeffrey Singer, she'd heard the older man introduce, before he left them alone. He offered his hand and she automatically took it.
Heaven knows this wasn't the first man to grace her hotel room. But from the first moment she saw him she felt like a sixteen year old having her first schoolgirl crush . . .
Jeff walked to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. Looking at his watch again he noted the time. An hour had barely passed. He'd asked at the nurses station and they told him she still in the labor room, but it wouldn't be too much longer and they'd take her to the delivery room. He'd asked again if he could see her, but was told politely that everything was okay and he wasn't needed. Frustrated, he sat the coffee on the table and sat again on the couch, resuming his thought.
. . . "Would you like a drink?" She asked him, walking to the small wet bar in the corner of the room.
"Yes, thank you." He did need a drink. He threw his hat on a table and sat in an easy chair. Maybe a drink would loosen him up. Jeff couldn't remember being this nervous around any woman. Usually it was the other way around.
"I . . . saw you in The Rivals. You're a brilliant actress," he spoke up, starting a conversation.
"Oh," she stumbled uncharacteristically over the complement, "thank you." She handed him the glass.
She sat in a chair next to his and took a sip of the drink she'd made for herself, "I'm sorry to say I can't return the complement. I've never seen you perform."
The double entendre had apparently caught her as much by surprise as it had himself. He watched her get up and walk across the room. So rather than bring attention to it, he chose to take it as she'd meant it. "Do you have a script? We should rehearse anyway."
She laughed, as if he'd just asked her a very dumb question. "Of course I have a script."
He returned her smile, "Of course."
He stood and started to remove his suit coat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his mother, *Jeffrey, your manners* "Do you mind," he asked gesturing at his suit jacket.
"Why would I mind?" She said with a smile, gesturing to herself.
Jeff could tell by the surprised look on her face, that she'd completely forgotten she was just wearing a dressing gown.
"I should get dressed."
"No!" He said before his mind could stop him. "I . . . uh . . . I mean you look beaut . . .uh . . . I mean fine. You look fine." He smiled at her, knowing he'd just dug himself a hole he wasn't sure he wanted to get out of. He drank the rest of his drink in one swallow. This was going to be a long night . . .
Hilary took a deep breath and sighed. The pain had subsided for the moment. She asked the nurse for a drink of water. "Would you please tell my husband I'm okay. I'm sure he's worried," she told woman who'd brought her the water. The nurse nodded and promised she would give Jeff the message.
With that off her mind, Hilary went back to her memories.
. . . She took a long drink from her glass. This was shaping up to be a long night. Why the heck was she so flustered. You'd think after a few failed marriages, one man wouldn't faze her. She took another drink. You'd think. Maybe she -should- get dressed.
"The script?" he asked.
"Do you want another drink?" she asked fixing herself one.
"I could use one."
She refilled his glass and gave it back to him. "Do you think you'll know everything by tomorrow night?" As soon as it left her mouth she realized she'd blundered again. Sigmund Freud must be having a good laugh at her expense, she thought.
This time he chose not to ignore the entendre. "The script, or . . ." he let his voice trail off. He put his drink down and stood. "I give up," he said, pulled her against him and kissed her hungrily.
She struggled for a moment, due to surprise, but returned his kiss with equal vigor . . .
Jeff called WENN again to give them an update and to give himself something to do. He was glad to have gotten the message from Hilary. He felt better knowing she was all right. He looked at his watch again.
Noon.
"Mr. Singer."
He looked toward the mention of his name.
"They've just taken your wife to the delivery room. It shouldn't be long now."
He smiled and thanked the nurse. He walked again to the window, staring into the sun drenched day and back into his reminiscing.
. . . The sun was in his eyes. He rolled away from the offending light and into someone. Into someone? He opened his eyes, and realized he was in bed, well actually it was the floor, with Hilary Booth. This was not in the game plan. Getting a job had been the plan. Getting the leading lady had not been. Especially not less than an hour after he'd met her. His abrupt movement woke her
She stretched contentedly and smiled, "good morning."
"Morning," he repeated, confused by her lack of annoyance. "This doesn't bother you?" he gestured at the two of them. Come to think of it, why was it bothering him? It's not like he was seeing anyone at the moment. Anyone special anyway.
Seeing anyone! The light dawned. *Smooth one Singer, the way your luck runs she's married*
"Oh, it bothers me all right." she pulled his face toward hers and whispered against his lips, "Bother me more, pumpkin." . . .
Jeff smiled. That first week with Razzle Dazzle had been interesting. Their offstage relationship had flourished, as well as their onstage one. Fitzpatrick had given them both raises due to increased box office sales thanks to their chemistry.
The stay in Dallas had been extended through the first of the year, so he'd decided that some sightseeing was in order. They wandered the city, going to museums, theaters, and of course, hotels. For New Year, Jeff had wanted to do something different, so they went to Mexico. That's when everything changed.
. . . "Let's get married." Jeff suggested. They were laying in bed at a small motel in Matamoros.
"Married?!" She asked, surprised at the notion. "You mean, us?"
"Of course I mean us." He took her hand, "Hilary, you fascinate me. I want to spend every waking moment with you."
"Oh Jeffrey, no man has ever said that to me." Then she thought, "At least, I don't think so."
He kissed her and left the bed, pulling on his clothes. "Come on, I want to show you something.
They walked down the street to the store Jeff had seen the ring in. He had her try the wedding ring on and when it fit perfectly he decided that was a good sign and purchased it for her.
Later that evening they stood in front of a justice and vowed to love, honor and obey each other for the rest of their lives. . . .
The rest of their lives had lasted two weeks. It seemed like the moment they got married, all hell broke loose in their personal relationship. Suddenly they couldn't stand to be near each other. Ironically, they couldn't stay away from each other either.
The most amusing thing in this, is that their divorce had been completely unnecessary. When they'd returned from the second trip to Mexico, they were approached by Fitzpatrick with a whole new publicity campaign. "The National Tour show, whose leading couple was really married." So they'd covered up the divorce and 'stayed married'.
By the time they'd gotten to WENN their fake marriage was beginning to resemble a real one. The purely physical attraction was starting to give way to honest emotion. They had fallen in love without even realizing it. His near death experience in London had been a wake up call and they'd finally admitted the truth to one another. Now, he couldn't fathom life without Hilary in it.
Jeff walked again to the nurses station. Still no news, but soon. He was getting tired of that answer. Jeff sat and lay back, closing his eyes. He'd apparently drifted off because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder.
"Mr. Singer."
Jeff was awake in an instant. The doctor.
"Yes."
"Congratulations, you have a healthy daughter."
Jeff grinned widely, "a girl!" He stood, "Hilary?"
"She's fine. Come with me and I'll take you to her." The doctor led Jeff through the double doors and down a hallway to the private rooms in the maternity ward.
The older man pointed to a partially closed door and then left Jeff alone. He crept silently into the room, not wanting to disturb her if she was sleeping. She looked exhausted. He took her hand and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.
"Pumpkin," she said softly, waking at his touch.
He pulled a chair closer to the bedside so he could sit. "I'm here, sweetheart."
She smiled tiredly, "We have a little girl."
"Yes we do, darling." He returned her smile.
"Have you seen her yet?"
"No."
"She's beautiful." Hilary reached a hand up to caress her husband's cheek. "She's got your eyes. And my hair. . . and my cheekbones . . .and actually my eyelashes . . ."
Jeff turned slightly and kissed the palm of her hand, before taking it into his own. "I love you, Mrs. Singer."
"I love you too, Jeffrey." She answered, giving his hand a squeeze. "Did you think we'd ever make it this far?"
He laughed softly, "It's a wonder we made it past Razzle Dazzle."
She agreed with a small laugh, "You know, we should look up Arnold Fitzpatrick and thank him for that publicity stunt of his that kept us married.
"I'm just glad it did." He leaned forward and softly kissed her lips.
A clearing throat alerted them to the presence of someone else.
Jeff stood and greeted the nurse who'd just entered the room carrying the baby. She walked to the bedside and asked with a smile if he would like to hold his daughter.
He reverently took the baby from the nurse and cradled her gently in his arms. He caressed her tiny hand and walked to the opposite side of the room, wanting to have the first few moments alone.
After making sure Hilary was all right, the nurse left the room, leaving the new family alone.
Jeff sat in the chair next to the curtained window, and studied the tiny form of the infant he held. She -was- perfect. From the tufts of reddish brown hair to her tiny little toes. "So you're the little pumpkin that made me hunt for spare ribs in the middle of the night," he whispered softly.
As Hilary watched her husband bond with their child, she thought again of their past and their present and wondered what the future would bring.
* * * * *
"Folks, we interrupt this broadcast for some very good news. WENN would like to welcome Elizabeth Booth Singer to our family. Mother and daughter are doing fine. This is Mackie Bloom, we now return you to our regularly scheduled program . . ."
The End
To be continued, due to popular demand. :-)
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