"There's no other choice."

"What about Garrett?"

"That's over," she said. "You were right about him, Stephen. He just wanted the newspapers."

She expected him to say something but he was silent. When she looked up at him she saw no sense of vindication in her eyes. There was just love. He took her hands in his.

"Kellen," he said, "you've got another choice. You could have the baby. And you could marry me."

She looked at him in stunned silence.

"I'll take care of you. And the baby," he said. "I'll take care of everything."

"But why would you do it?"

"Because I love you," he said.

Her eyes dropped to their interlocked hands.

"We belong together." Stephen paused. "I know that you...care for me. That's enough for now."

She tried to pull away but he gathered her into his arms.

"You've always trusted me, and you can now," he whispered. "Just give it a chance."

She leaned against him, listening to his voice. His words and arms enfolded her. He tilted her face up so she was forced to look at him.

"Kellen Elizabeth Bryant, will you marry me?" he asked softly.

She hesitated, and then the one word emerged in a sigh. "Yes," she said.

PART FOUR.

STEPHEN 1972.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE.

Stephen settled into a chair by the fireplace and unfolded the newspaper. Suddenly, a small face appeared, poking under the pages.

"Daddy! You're home!" A pair of huge blue eyes stared up at him hopefully.

Stephen relented. "All right, come on up," he said, pulling the child onto his lap. "Now, how do you expect me to read?" he said with a smile.

"I'll help you," the girl said, and proceeded to call out the letters in the headlines. After a while, she tired of the game and leaned back contentedly against Stephen's chest.

Stephen tried to shift her over slightly so he could finish his reading. He noted the weight of her on his lap and realized that she was growing so fast. She was nearly seven, not a baby anymore.

"You know, you're almost too big for this, princess," he said.

She looked up at him. "Do you want me to get down?"

"No, you can stay." He was about to bring the newspaper back up again when Kellen came into the room.

"Stephen, I didn't hear you come in," she said. She went to him, kissing him lightly. Her red hair was held back by a scarf and she was wearing camel slacks and a flattering sweater. She was, he thought suddenly, more beautiful than the day they had gotten married.

"You look pretty tonight," he said.

Kellen gave him a pleased little smile. "I'm getting fat. But thank you anyway." She reached over to smooth the girl's hair.

"Sara, why don't you let your father be? He just got home, and he's tired. Go help your brother pick up the toys, okay?" When the girl pouted Kellen added, "You can spend all day tomorrow with Daddy when we go to the zoo."

Sara brightened, slid off Stephen's lap, and went over to the Christmas tree, where a little boy was playing.

"I can't go tomorrow," Stephen said quietly.

"Stephen, you promised her --"

"I know, but something's come up at the paper. I have to go in to work."

"You've been working every weekend for weeks," she said. "You've got to take some time off. For them, if nothing else."

Stephen didn't answer and went back to reading the paper. Kellen sighed and turned toward the children. "Well, I've got to get them in bed and get ready," she said.

Stephen looked up. "Where are you going?"

"To the office. I forgot to bring that new circulation report home, and I want to go over it before the meeting Monday."

Stephen put the paper down. "You don't need to go all the way downtown just for that. I'll have someone send it over tomorrow." He paused. "Besides, I read it earlier. It's not that important."

"Stephen, I'm not going to the meeting half-prepared."

"Maybe you should skip the meeting this week, Kellen," he said. "Ben's still running a fever. I can fill you in on what goes on."

She looked at him oddly. "I'm going to the meeting," she said. "And I'm going now to the office. Besides, I need to get out of the house for a little while. I've been cooped up here all week."

"It's very cold out," Stephen said.

"The fresh air will do me good."

Stephen stared at her for a moment.

"You look tired," she said. "I'll get the children to bed before I leave so they won't bother you."

Stephen raised the paper again without comment. Kellen went over to the children to help them gather up their toys. Stephen dropped the paper slightly and watched the three of them.

Kellen's face had set into that implacable mask that he knew signaled her stubbornness or her displeasure with him. He hated it when this happened, this arguing without really arguing. They had never really had an overt fight during their seven-year marriage. But lately, for some reason, it seemed that even their most innocent exchanges were tinged with tension.

He shouldn't have said anything about her going to the office. She had, after all, been at home all week with the children, nursing their colds.

He watched the children. Ben was going into his usual noisy bedtime denial, but Kellen finally just scooped him up and carted him off toward the stairs. Sara followed calmly.

Stephen felt a stab of guilt. Sara was going to be so disappointed when she found out about the zoo. He had been promising for weeks to take her, but lately it was all he could do to get home from work before they went to bed. At five, Ben didn't yet seem to notice Stephen's absence, but Sara increasingly, did.

Stephen let the newspaper fall and stared into the fire, letting his thoughts drift back to the days surrounding Sara's birth.

It had been a difficult time, more so than he had antic.i.p.ated. He had always thought of himself as having a generous spirit and he had really believed he could accept the child. But that first day, when he saw the infant in the nursery, all his jealousy toward Garrett Richardson resurfaced.

Sara had been premature, just enough to pa.s.s as Stephen's child. But she looked like neither Stephen nor Kellen. Sara Lindsay Hillman had black hair and blue eyes, distinctly dark blue, just like Garrett's.

A few people commented that her coloring was a throwback to her grandfather Adam, but those who remembered Garrett suspected the truth.

Stephen steeled himself against Sara's appearance, wondering if he would think of Garrett every time he looked at her. Kellen said nothing about it, but he suspected from the way she looked at the baby that she thought the same.

Finally, she had said, almost apologetically, "It would be easier if she looked like me instead, wouldn't it."

Perhaps, he thought, but he was determined to be honorable. It was the bargain he had made to marry Kellen.

"It doesn't matter," he had answered. "She's our daughter."

Nothing had been easy during that first year. The suddenness of their marriage and Sara's premature birth had shocked everyone. To make matters worse, it was an intermarriage, a fact that Stephen, so stubbornly honor-bound to rescue Kellen, had chosen to disregard. Even Josh and Anna had misgivings. They loved Kellen and were sympathetic about her pregnancy. But they had always envisioned a certain life for their only son, a happy life lived within the dictates of their faith and culture.

It had been hardest on his mother, who was active in her temple. Some of her friends had even gone so far as to express pity over her son's choice of a Catholic wife.

And there were those, of course, who clucked over the idea of a Catholic marrying a Jew, and not even a rich one at that. But then, she was Adam Bryant's daughter, went conventional wisdom, what could one expect?

Except for the one comment about Sara's appearance, Kellen never mentioned Garrett. Finally, Stephen heard that he was living in New York. He had bought a moribund New York City newspaper, The Tattler, and had converted it into a sensationalist tabloid. Garrett commuted between New York, Toronto and London, never returning to San Francisco.

But he had not sold the house in Tiburon, and Stephen thought often about what would happen if he came back.

Sometimes at night, when he lay next to Kellen in bed, Stephen imagined that she still carried within her some small sad longing. He would gather her into his arms and she would curve her body against his and tell him that she loved him. But his doubts remained.

Then, two years after Sara's birth, Kellen announced she was pregnant. Stephen was overjoyed, and the fact that the baby turned out to be a boy only intensified his happiness. The birth also seemed atonement to Anna and Josh; they had accepted Sara, for Stephen's sake, but now they had a grandson.

For Stephen, Garrett suddenly ceased to be a mysterious threat who could swoop in some day to claim Sara -- and Kellen. Now, because of Ben, he and Kellen had a connection that no one could break.

Stephen could still feel Garrett's ghostly presence sometimes, but it grew fainter all the time. He began to believe that Kellen felt the same.

Ben's birth seemed to change her. Some of the changes were small, like the way she dressed. But it was more fundamental than that. There was a maturity and serenity about her now. She seemed more centered than she ever had in her life, as if she had finally found in motherhood something more important than herself.

Or even the newspapers.

Following Sara's birth, Kellen had kept a consistent schedule at the newspaper, working in her office for a couple hours a day. But after Ben's arrival, her schedule became erratic. From birth, Ben had been plagued with chronic bronchial infections and Kellen felt compelled to remain at home on careful watch.

"I don't want my children raised by nannies and governesses," she told Stephen. "I want them to know I'm here."

By Ben's third birthday, his health had stabilized and so had Kellen's schedule, reduced to one day a week spent at the office, with a special trip in for the monthly vice presidents meeting.

Once, she brought up the possibility of a.s.suming her former schedule, but Stephen gently discouraged her. "You might as well wait now until Ben's in school," he said. "He needs you at home right now, Kellen. They both do. Besides, I can act in your stead, you know that."

Their life settled into a smooth routine. After a while, Kellen surprised him by joining the opera guild, where her mother had worked as a volunteer. She also took the children to church, being careful to balance this with exposure to their Jewish heritage, enlisting Anna Hillman's help for instruction.

Stephen thought that her new conservatism and efforts to ingratiate herself with the social elite were a reaction against the notoriety she had endured during her own childhood. She was trying to buffer Ben and Sara against hurt, and he didn't discourage her. He saw all her changes as a natural process of maturation. Kellen had finally grown up.

He glanced up from the fire, his eyes going from the Christmas tree up to the gold menorah sitting on the mantel.

Yes, it had been hard at first, he thought, and there were the recent moments of tension. But what couple didn't experience that? Everything had worked out, he thought, much better than he had ever hoped.

Ben's laugh drew his attention to the foyer. Kellen and the nanny came down the stairs with the children. Ben ran over and clambered onto Stephen's lap, holding a stuffed bear.

Stephen drew Ben into a hug, tickling him into spasms of giggles.

"Hey, big man!" Stephen said, with a broad smile. "Where'd you get that bear?"

"Grandpa Josh," Ben answered. "I named him Fred." Ben looked up at him. With his hazel eyes and sandy-blond hair, he was the image of Stephen. "Daddy, can I have a real one?"

"A bear? No, I don't think so. Maybe a puppy. When you're old enough to take care of him."

"It's past your bedtime, Ben," Kellen said gently. "Kiss your father good night."

Ben threw his plump arms around Stephen's neck then scrambled down. Sara hung back slightly, waiting. Finally, Stephen held out his arms. She went to him, and Stephen kissed her cheek.

"Good night, princess," he said.

"Good night, Daddy," she said, looking at him solemnly.

Stephen suspected Kellen had told her that he couldn't go to the zoo, and he made a vow to himself to make it up to her.

The nanny led them away, leaving Kellen and Stephen alone. The room was suddenly filled with quiet.

"They got too many gifts this year," Kellen said after a moment. "Do you think we're spoiling them?"

"You're the one who thinks they should get Christmas and Hanukkah presents," Stephen said. He took her hand and tried to draw her down into his lap. She pulled back.

"I have to go," she said.

"It's much nicer here by the fire with me," he said.

"I won't be long." She went upstairs. A short time later, he heard her leave.

Stephen sat staring at the fire, the newspaper still lying across his knee. He still felt perplexed and slightly annoyed by her insistence on going to the office tonight. He knew it was more than just a ploy to get out of the house.