“I don’t want to meet that other little girl.” Worry lines puckered Berry’s forehead.
“I wasn’t planning to introduce you yet.” Zack hadn’t thought that far ahead. “But you always said you wanted a brother or sister.”
Berry stared at him in horror. “She’s not my sister!”
“Not exactly,” he agreed, “but...”
“How come she gets a new daddy and I can’t even have a kitten?” To his dismay, tears darkened Berry’s eyes. His daughter hadn’t cried in...well, months, at least.
Zack reached across the table to touch her. She shrugged him off and ducked her head.
His usually easygoing little girl appeared desperately upset. How had this happened? “Berry, I love you more than anything in the world. That doesn’t mean I can’t...” Zack halted. He’d been about to say there was room in his heart to love them both equally. His better judgment warned the idea wasn’t likely to play well.
When patients asked why their older child became distressed at the prospect of a new baby, he often shared an analogy he’d read—imagine how you’d feel if your husband came home and announced he loved you so much he was taking a second wife, but that he had plenty of love for both of you?
“I don’t even know this new little girl,” Zack amended. “Kimmie isn’t the same as you.”
Folding her arms, Berry refused to meet his gaze.
Zack had always resolved not to be a parent who yielded to blackmail and Rima had stood firmly beside him on that issue. The few times that Berry, as a toddler, had thrown a tantrum she’d learned in no uncertain terms there’d be a punishment, such as missing her favorite cartoons that evening. She’d quickly backed down.
But this wasn’t exactly defiance. The kitten appeared to mean something important to her. Something symbolic.
Struggling to find the key, Zack reflected on what she’d said. How come she gets a new daddy and I can’t even have a kitten? He was willing to make major changes in his life to get close to Kimmie. Maybe Berry was seeking reassurance he’d willingly sacrifice for her sake, too.
To an adult it wasn’t the same thing at all—to a child it might be.
Zack supposed he could give the kitten a twenty-four hour reprieve to allow him time to consider all the angles. The longer you delay, the more attached Berry will become. He had to decide now.
“Would you feel better about Kimmie if I let you keep the kitten?” Ignoring the wall clock’s reminder to hurry, Zack focused on his daughter.
Biting her lower lip, she nodded.
“Your happiness matters to me,” Zack told her. “More than my inconvenience or my concerns about keeping a pet. You’ll have to help feed it and clean up. And keep her in the bathroom until she’s housebroken.”
“The upstairs bathroom is bigger.”
“Okay,” he said.
“When she grows up we’ll close off the living room,” Berry said. “So she won’t scratch Mommy’s furniture.”
She’s way ahead of me. “What made you think of that?”
“Cindy has a kitty.”
“Did she mention how often she feeds it and brushes it and...” He broke off. “We can find that stuff on the internet.”
“Tonight!”
“It’s a plan.” Doing research might even prove educational. “Now we’d better hurry.”
Berry hopped to her feet. “I love you, Daddy!” She flung her arms around him, then bounced away. “I’ll get my backpack.”
As he cleared the dishes, Zack wondered if someday, when he had an adolescent daughter wearing outrageous clothes and ditching school, he might not look back on this moment with nostalgia.
In any event he’d learned a lesson: tread carefully with Berry where Kimmie was concerned.
* * *
BY ONE-FIFTEEN, WHEN HE finished his last appointment for the morning, Zack was grateful he didn’t have to run out and take the kitten to the shelter. Before leaving the house, he’d put it in the upstairs bathroom with plenty of food and water.
If anyone had asked him a few days ago whether he’d be adopting a cat, he’d have laughed at the idea. But fatherhood required a degree of flexibility, just so long as one didn’t bend on matters of principle.
He ate a sandwich in the cafeteria. Then he swung by Jan’s office, hoping to talk before the two-o’clock staff meeting.
He found her organizing her notes on the computer. “Hi,” she said distractedly. “Zack. Good. Close the door.”
She had something on her mind. Was it about Kimmie’s reaction? Zack swung into a chair, and waited while Jan closed and printed her file.
Dark hair fell smoothly over the collar of her lavender suit jacket, and a delicate gold bracelet emphasized the slimness of her wrist. Despite her collected appearance, she had a worried air as she faced him. “Dr. T just emailed that Samantha Forrest plans to join us. Why would a pediatrician care about the egg-donor program?”
Good question. “She counsels a group of teen mothers,” Zack said.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “Just thinking out loud.”
“She’s the wife of the administrator, and I understand her nickname is Fightin’ Sam.” Jan had clearly done her research. “Is she a pain in the neck?”
“Can be,” Zack had to admit. “If she gets her nose in a twist over something, she’s like a bulldog.”
“A bulldog with a twisted nose? Sounds painful.” Jan wrinkled her own nose, which was cute and decidedly un-bulldog-like. “I hate office politics.”
“I don’t know if I hate them. I’m just lousy at them.” Since Zack had nothing further to say on the subject, he posed the question uppermost in his mind. “How did Kimmie take the news?”
Jan’s expression softened. “She’s okay with it. Do you object to her eating pancakes for lunch?”
Normally, he would. But Kimmie wasn’t Berry, whose mother and grandparents had died young of heart disease. “I’ve heard rave reviews of a restaurant called Waffle Heaven. Guess this is my chance to try it.”
Jan looked relieved. “That’ll help break the ice. How did Berry react?”
Complicated question. “At first, she didn’t say much. She holds things inside.” Zack pictured his daughter’s face, barely a muscle moving as she’d listened to him.
“She’s been through a lot.” Jan studied him sympathetically. “It’s wonderful that she has you.”
“I’m lucky to have her.” Zack had bonded with the little girl from the moment they met. Literally.
“Does she have other relatives? Grandparents?”
“Deceased.” He chose not to be specific. Rima and her family were private territory. “Just an uncle who’s young and unmarried. We get together on holidays.”
“What about your parents?” Jan sounded hesitant, and no wonder. The elder Sargents hadn’t exactly welcomed her as his fiancée. Not that they’d acted crazy about Rima, either, but they’d accepted her once she became his wife. As their only grandchild, Berry received hugs and gifts on appropriate occasions, but hardly the outpouring of devotion he’d seen in other grandparents.
“They’ve never been the warm, fuzzy type,” Zack said. He suddenly realized he’d never told them about the baby he’d relinquished. There was another touchy issue to be handled.
“So initially she didn’t show much reaction. What about later?” Impressive, how Jan zeroed in on the key issue.
Zack wasn’t sure how to describe what had happened. “She latched on to the kitten. She asked how come Kimmie got a new daddy and she couldn’t even have a pet.”
Jan smiled.
“What?” Zack said.
“You folded.”
“We compromised.” That sounded more dignified.
“On what?”
“On me folding.”
She chuckled. “Good for you. I’m relieved Smidge has a home.”
“Glad you approve.” The issues weren’t settled, however. “Berry calls Kimmie ‘the other little girl’ and refused to meet her.”
“You’re all she’s got, and now she has to share you,” Jan said. “It’s natural for her to feel threatened.”
He acknowledged the truth of that observation. “Kimmie wasn’t angry about my being gone all her life?”
“More confused than angry.” Jan gave a start as her cell phone beeped. “That’s my alarm. It’s time to leave for the staff meeting. Think there’s any harm in our riding up the elevator together?” They were gathering in a small fourth-floor auditorium used for lectures and continuing education.
“Your receptionist already saw me come in, so the gossip’s in the wind.” Caroline Carter was a chatty twentysomething who had previously been assigned to a private—and isolated—medical office. Now, as a receptionist and secretary to Jan and several other staff members in a ground-floor location, she was perfectly positioned to follow all the hospital news.
“I suspected as much. When I mentioned Dr. Forrest, Caroline was more than happy to fill me in.” Jan collected a clipboard with her notes. “While I dislike gossip, I don’t want to walk blindly into a lion’s den.”
“I’m on your side.” Not that Zack wielded much power around here. “So is Dr. Tartikoff. He was eager to have you on board.”
“Nevertheless, he enjoys stirring things up.” Jan took a deep breath. “Well, nobody promised this job would be easy. Ready?”
“You bet.”
Chapter Six
Stay calm. Be friendly. Listen actively. Jan ran over that mantra as she greeted the staff members—eight, plus her—in the classroom-size auditorium, which had about thirty steeply ascending seats. Given how few people were present at this initial meeting, she’d have preferred to sit around a conference table, but Dr. T had arranged for them to meet here.
Perhaps, by placing her at a podium, he meant to demonstrate she was the person in charge. To her way of thinking this ought to be a cooperative venture. But perhaps there wasn’t a suitable boardroom.
As the attendees exchanged greetings and took their seats, Jan assessed the participants. Embryologist Alec Denny was his usual easygoing self, while the hospital attorney, Tony Franco, mentioned how much his wife, Kate, had enjoyed meeting Jan at the school yesterday.
Financial counselor Melissa Everhart and IVF coordinator Karen Wiggins were both eager to get the donor program underway. The administrator, obstetrician Mark Rayburn, greeted her with low-key warmth and sat next to Tony rather than with his wife, who’d chosen a higher tier. Although Jan considered her a wild card, Samantha Forrest had shaken hands and greeted her politely. Still, the sharp-featured blonde pediatrician hadn’t explained why she was here, and several of the others cast puzzled glances in her direction.
As expected, Owen Tartikoff took the podium for an introduction, his russet hair and cinnamon eyes giving him a deceptively mild appearance. “You’ve all met Jan Garcia. As you may know, she and I worked together in Boston. Since then she’s been assistant director of an egg-donor program in Houston. She was my top choice to fill this post.”
Standing at the side, Jan felt a nervous tingling in her hands. Please don’t let me drop these papers.
“I’d like to provide a little background, so we don’t lose sight of the bigger picture.” Owen spoke easily, without notes. “The first fertilized egg was successfully transferred from one woman to another in July 1983 about an hour’s drive from here, at Harbor, UCLA Medical Center. Today, the process is performed all over the world but many countries impose restrictions. Most commonly, they limit or ban paying the donors.”
On an upper tier, Samantha leaned forward. Since she didn’t work in the fertility field, perhaps this was new to her, Jan mused.
“That creates a shortage,” Dr. T said. “Donating eggs is a complex, invasive procedure, and except for close relatives, few women will undergo it purely from altruism. The U.S. has no such restrictions on egg donation and therefore no such shortage. As a result, women from all over the world come here to undergo fertility treatments. And while there are many egg-donor programs in Southern California, we believe there’s an unmet demand. We’ve already had inquiries both from within our program and from outside patients, because of our excellent reputation.”
Stop now, Jan commanded mentally, but he went right on talking. She’d forgotten how much Dr. T loved an audience.
“We must never forget we’re dealing with people’s children, not merely bits of tissue,” Owen continued. “Some of you remember the scandal just down the road from here, at UC Irvine, in the mid-nineties, when doctors were accused of stealing eggs from fertility patients and implanting them in other women, who believed the eggs had been donated. You can imagine the heartbreak and the lawsuits that resulted, and two doctors fled the country. While I’m sure no one here would deliberately commit such a reprehensible act, we must have safeguards to ensure nothing like that happens by accident.”
Tony nodded. Samantha showed no reaction. What was her issue?
“On that note, I implant you in the capable hands of Jan Garcia.” With a flash of his deep-etched dimple, Dr. T stepped down.
Great. He’d just filled everyone’s ears with horror stories and now Jan had to follow that.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to the podium.
* * *
BECAUSE HE KNEW JAN so well, Zack registered the tension in her stride and the taut edge to her voice. Beyond that, however, she came across as coolly professional.
Quite a challenge, given the way Dr. T had brought in controversy right from the start. As if anyone in this room needed reminding about the UCI scandal, which had received worldwide publicity.
Jan calmly provided an overview of what lay ahead. Like every other clinic, this one needed to decide on its rules and establish its procedures. Also, by law, clinics were required to send statistical information each year to the Society for Assisted Reproductive Technology and the federal Centers for Disease Control. This information would be released to the public in reports showing pregnancy rates.
“Our first task is to decide on some key protocols. For example, what standards will we use to screen egg donors? Also, will we set up a shared-cycle IVF program? That’s something I encourage, by the way,” Jan added.
“Excuse me.” Samantha Forrest stood without waiting to be recognized. From her hunched shoulders to her fisted hands, she appeared braced for a fight. “What about protecting the egg donors from exploitation?”
So that was her issue. Understandable, Zack supposed, in light of her work with troubled young women who might see egg donation as an easy way to make money.
“I’m glad you raised that point, Dr. Forrest.” Jan showed no trace of alarm. “Please elaborate. I want to be sure we take your concerns into account.”
“Well...” The pediatrician blinked, as if caught off guard by the pleasant reception. Good for you, Jan. “We have
to be sure they’re fully informed about the tests and examinations they’ll undergo, the hormones they’ll receive, the possibility of long-term physical effects, not to mention the emotional impact. How will they feel years later when they realize other women are raising their babies?”
Jan jotted notes on a pad. “Excellent. That’s the kind of input I’m looking for. Would you be willing to serve on a team to prepare an information sheet we’ll give to prospective donors?”
Dr. Forrest glanced toward her husband, who kept his gaze fixed on Jan. They were raising adopted triplets, which Zack doubted left much spare time. Still, if she truly cared about this matter... “Sure.”
“Thank you. And naturally, we’ll do a full psychological workup on all donors,” Jan continued.
Samantha hadn’t finished. “Also, I understand they don’t get paid until the eggs are harvested. That’s a lot of time for them to invest on speculation, so to speak.”
“No more than many job candidates invest in seeking employment,” Jan countered in a level tone. “Also, the payment is substantial—usually about five thousand dollars per cycle.”
“That’s enough to entice a young girl, but it may not feel so great when she’s older and looks back on her decision,” the pediatrician persisted.
Realizing this topic could sidetrack the whole session, Zack decided to speak up. “If we paid young women before they underwent the egg harvesting, we’d be facing a host of problems.” His voice echoed slightly in the conference room.
As everyone turned toward him, he caught a trace of surprise on several faces. Except for his grant-program proposal, Zack usually stayed in the background. But he wasn’t about to let Dr. Forrest or anyone else throw the plans for an egg-donor program off course.
“Please go on,” Jan said.
“First, some individuals could take advantage of the program by getting paid for their time when they don’t seriously intend to donate,” Zack said. “Second, we can’t charge fertility patients for eggs they don’t receive, so where would the payments come from?”
SH Medical 09 - The M.D.'s Secret Daughter Page 6
