The Musician

Chapter Thirteen

It was now exactly two days after his twenty sixth birthday. His actual party had been a blast, even without Hannah. He had called in all his friends from around the world, and even had some of his old Guildhall mates flown in from their vacation in Monaco. They had been reluctant to leave the paradise, but after the night of fun, they had been reluctant to go back.

One of the 'boys' in attendance was his good friend Sasha. Sasha was Atti's old lover, and had become a great friend after the two split. He was almost like the brother that Orlando had never had because they were both tall, thin, and dark haired. Sometimes, Atti's choice in lover surprised Orli because they looked so much like him. Atti had noticed it as well and put it off to the fact that he missed Orlando. Anyway, Sasha had come all the way from St. Petersburg, where he was born and raised. It had been the first time in a long time that the two had really had a chance to talk.

Sasha had married and had a child. The child had surprised Orlando more than anything.ha aha and his wife, Nadine, were heroin addicts.

As he lay in his big, comfy bed alone, Orlando wondered how Sasha or Nadine could have consciously made a child with all that shit in their veins. He promised then and there that if he had children, he would fly the straight path. No more drunken flings or stupid things for Mr. Orlando Bloom.

The phone rang.

"Hello."

The cough on the other end made him chuckle. "I see the wonderful Portland weather has done wonders to your health love."

Hannah muttered a curse word before blowing her nose. The noise cracked over the bad phone line. "I hate rain. You'd think that since it's winter it'd snow right? Nope. Two inches of rain yesterday. It's even worse today. It's getting to look like England in the spring over here."

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure. So, other than the slight sniffles, how are things in the recording studio?"

"Oh, wonderful. They should be finishing up in about a week."

"They? What do you mean they?"

"I'm coming home Orlando. I have go the head cold of a century and I can't think straight, let alone play. And to make matters worse, I think something is seriously wrong with my body. I've been so busy the last few days that I am just exhausted. I need a nice two day vacation."

"Oh, that's wonderful! I've missed you badly you know."

"Yes, I know. You told me yesterday when you called at 4 AM in the morning."

"I'm sorry. The whole time zone thing is annoying."

They chatted back and forth for a few more minutes until Hannah had to go. She had actually called him from the airport. "Remember, Heathrow in 15 hours or I'll beat you down Orlando Fernando." She giggled at the last part, kissing the mouthpiece before clicking off.

He stared down at the phone in amused wonderment. "Did she just call me Orlando Fernando?"

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36 hours later

Ahhh, satisfaction. Hannah sniffled again, rubbing her nose absently with the sleeve of her pajama tops. Orlando groaned in disgust next to her. "That is gross Hannah. You should really use a handkerchief for that."

She grinned across the pillow at him. "Well, just be glad I didn't use your sheet."

"Oh, believe me, I am." They both laughed at his words and the comic expression on his face.

Hannah sobered quickly though, as she thought of what she had discovered only a few short hours after getting in from the airport. And, as she looked at Orlando, she could only debate over whether she should or shouldn't tell him that she was pregnant. What would he do?

She couldn't imagine a high-class movie star like him could really be father material. Yeah, he was a sweet guy, but could he be a good father as well.

Orlando frowned at her as she saw her brow furrow. "What's wrong love. You haven't been back even a day and you're already getting pouty. Do you miss playing that much?"

"No, it's not about my instrument. It's about something else all together." He deserved to know. After all, he was the father, right? He had to be, or else she was a strange version of the Virgin Mary. But, should she tell him? Her mind was at war with itself again. "Something completely different."

He slid closer to her on the bed. She could feel his body heat and took comfort in it. He took one of her hands and pressed it gently between his own. "Do you want to talk about it? I'm always here to listen to you; you know that. And my love will never change, no matter what you tell me."

Oh god, he sounded so sincere she could cry. "I'm pregnant." It popped out before she knew it and immediately clamped her lips shut, wishing she hadn't said a word.

There was a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Pardon? You're pregnant?"

All the painful memories of her last baby came flooding back to her and she sat up quickly. "I'm so so sorry. I don't know how it happened." She looked back at him apologetically. "We were careful."

He was still in mild shock. "Yes, we were. You're sure you're pregnant?" Orlando spoke slowly and measured each word low in his throat.

"Yes, I'm 100%. I went to a doctor in Washington after I was late with my period. I'm sorry. If it's that much of a shock, I can just get rid of it." She stood, and pulled on her jeans. He was up and out of the bed like there was a fire on his ass.

"What do you mean get rid of it? You'd just throw our child away?"

The sudden outburst from Orlando brought tears to her eyes. She didn't need for this to happen again.

"If it would make things all better, yes. I would, without a second thought." But, even as she spoke the words, Hannah knew she was lying. She already loved the baby within her. Loved it just like she had loved Kathryn. She bit back a sob.

"I should go. I shouldn't have even told you. I'm sorry." She pushed past the outraged man, not letting herself hear the words he was shouting at her. He made her listen, though, when she reached the door. He spun her around, and held onto her shoulders tightly.

"Don't do it Hannah. Please, for the love of God. Just, think about it for a few days, but don't do anything stupid, please."

She gave him a blank look, and left, leaving the door open behind her.

One Week Later

Orlando Bloom was in a frenzy. He couldn't get a hold of Hannah. He couldn't find her at home. He couldn't reach her on her cell. He couldn't find her at the symphony. Hell, not even the symphony could find her, and that had everyone worried. He had seen multiple, horrifying scenarios flash in his head, each one gruesome in its ending. He shouldn't have gotten so angry. He shouldn't have gotten so mad. He should have been loving and supporting.

Mentally berating himself for the umpteenth time, he had to physically tell the voices in his head to shut up. He should have realized that he was happy he had put something inside of her. He held a hand to his temple, trying to get his thoughts back on track.

So, she had disappeared. Where could she go, and why wouldn't she at least leave word with someone?

Claire MacLeod was annoyed. Not just 'my-computer's-mother-board-just-crashed-with-my-mid-term-on-it' annoyed, but full blown, 'the-entire-server-just-crashed-and-all-300-mothe-boards-are-fried-beyond-repair' annoyed. And it was all Hannah Markham's fault.

Claire watched as Hannah re-adjusted her position on Claire's leather couch once more before re-reading the page she had already read 100 times in the last hour. She looked back down at her computer screen, and started to trouble shoot on the latest computer problem at one of her client's businesses. Hannah shifted again, and Claire growled.

The other woman looked up from her Anne Rice novel and gave Claire an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"No, ye're not."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry." Hannah smiled sheepishly and Claire suppressed the urge to throw a candle at the girl.

They both quieted down again and Claire took the opportunity to give Hannah another look-over, just as she had done repeatedly. Her friend, well technically cousin, was a lot thinner than the last time they had seen each other. And so quiet. Hannah hadn't said a word the day Claire had opened her door, just collapsed in her arms, crying. Something terrible had happened to her, and she didn't know what it was. And that was the worst part.

"Hannie when are ye going t' tell me what's going on?"

Hannah looked up from the book. "What are you talking about?"

"Ye know damned well Hannah Elizabeth Markham. What is goin' on?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Claire gave her the death glare. "I guess that's what's wrong."

Claire set aside her hardware and took a seat next to Hannah. "Tell me what's wrong Han. Ye can trust me; ye know me. Just tell me what the fuck has happened! This quiet is driving me insane!" She grabbed Hannah's hand and kissed her palm.

"I'm pregnant."

Again, shocked silence. That was not what Claire had been expecting. "Well, that's nice I guess. Do ye know who the father is?"

Hannah nodded miserably. "Yes. I know exactly who it is. And I think I've fallen in love with him." She looked at Claire with the most heart broken expression she had ever managed to plaster on her face. Her eyes were flooded with tears and her lip was trembling.

"Okay. And the problem is?" Perhaps she was a bit more curt than necessary, but the pain across Hannah's face gave away her secret fears. "Are ye afraid that it's another Tom? Are ye afraid that this child will die too?"

"Yes." Her tortured whisper echoed in the room.

Claire looped an arm around Hannah. "Ye know that Kathryn's death was inevitable. There was no way she would have survived. And as for Tom, the bastard got what he deserved. There's no other way to explain it. But, I guess I can understand yer fear. It's only natural, but ye have to trust in the father, I hope. Who is he by the way?"

"Orlando Bloom." This reply was almost as tortured as the last as she hiccuped a sob and buried her face in Claire's neck.

"Oh God. The ACTOR Orlando Bloom?" Hannah nodded. "Dear God, it wasn't a one night stand was it? Because if he's hurt ye in any way, I'll tear the bastard's balls off!"

Hannah shook her head harder and leaned back a little. "No, it's not like that. We've been . . . dating . . . for a month or so."

"Wow. It only took a month?"

"Shut up Claire. It's not funny."

"Oh, I know it's not." She pulled Hannah down to her chest and hugged her tightly. "I know it's not." Tears came to Hannah's eyes again. "Ye do realize that ye have t' tell him, right?"

"I did."

"And?"

"And he told me not to get an abortion."

"Wait, who brought up abortions? What a stupid dumb-fuck thing t' do."

"I brought it up. I panicked. I was scared. But, he freaked when I even mentioned it and I think I made him really mad."

"Ye think ye made him really mad? Did he say he was mad?" Hannah shook her head. "Jesus. Ye're doing everything possible to mess this up; do ye know that Hannie? Lud. Have ye talked t' him since ye told him ye were pregnant?"

"No, I'm scared Claire. I'm really scared that once he hears about me, he's gonna run off and leave me alone with another premature baby to love then lose. I'm afraid that once he hears my secret he's going to hate me."

"Well, then he wouldn't be much o' a man would he?" Hannah shook her head again. "Do ye love him? Would ye marry him? If he asked?"

Hannah stopped sniffling for a second. Would she marry him? "I don't know Claire. I might, but then again, I don't know. I've known the guy a month. That's a pretty short courting career."

"Well, now that's between ye and ye're honey. I'll not be telling ye what t' do on that account, but I think ye need t' ask him those questions and if he fucks up the answers, raise the child on yer own. Couldn't be any worse than trying with an un-supportive father . . . ye know."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"O' course I am. I'm always right. Now, why don't ye get packed. I'll drive ye back down t' London and you won't have t' pay another atrocious cabby fee." The two women laughed and Hannah saw a fleeting line of hope at the end of her dark tunnel.