Caleb began rattling the side of the crib like a psychotic prisoner.
“Come on, Caleb,” he called from the hallway. “Can’t you just cooperate a little? I don’t know what to do here.”
He limped to the bathroom and grabbed the roll of toilet paper off its holder, then hurried back into the nursery, trailing tissue behind him. He grabbed the baby back up and took him back to the table. He tried to wipe his bottom, but it wasn’t easy.
“Give a guy a break,” he said in a soft voice. “Come on, bud, I just want to clean you up.”
“I’m so sorry, Cade!”
He turned to see Blair at the doorway, looking as frantic as he felt. She’d brought his cane.
“He needs a bath,” he said. “I can’t get him clean.”
“Did you try the baby wipes?”
Baby wipes. Of course. He’d seen the commercials. She grabbed out the box that was conveniently placed on the shelf below the changing table, and took over.
“I’m so sorry I left you with him! He’s really been pretty good most of the morning, then the universe kind of exploded. About the same time as his bowels, apparently.” She got him clean, then grabbed a fresh diaper. Caleb finally stopped crying.
“Why isn’t he potty trained?”
Blair grinned. “Because he’s only eighteen months old. They don’t potty train them until at least four or five.”
“You’re insane. They start school at four or five, and I don’t know any teachers who have to change diapers.”
“I’m insane? You’re the one who tried to clean him up with toilet paper!”
Cade started to laugh, softly at first, but then the laughter bent him over. It was contagious, and Blair caught it. She set Caleb down before she dropped him.
The two screamed out their laughter, and Caleb stood there smiling up at them. Cade tried to stop laughing, but it had wound itself within him, sapping his strength. He saw that Blair had the same problem. Tears rolled down her face as she fell against him.
It was the most beautiful sight he’d seen in days.
Blair wiped her face. “You didn’t say why you came by,” she said as her laughter played down. “Did someone call 911? Report us for disturbing the peace?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Jonathan told me you were here.”
Her laughter settled, and her eyes grew wide. “And you came anyway?”
“Yeah—” he grinned—“I came anyway.”
He wanted to kiss her, squeeze the breath out of her, and beg her to update him on every minute of her days since he’d seen her last.
But Caleb made a run for it.
“Oh, no, you don’t, kiddo!” Blair started after him and grabbed him up.
Caleb screamed with glee as she hoisted him on her hip again. She started down the stairs. “Come on, let’s go outside where we can’t destroy anything.”
Cade followed her down and out to the backyard. She set the boy down, and he ran to his big plastic gym. Sighing, she dropped into one of the lawn chairs. Cade dropped into one next to her.
“So, how are you?”
“Okay,” she said. “You?”
“Better now.”
She smiled at him, and he realized how much he’d missed those bright eyes. “Jonathan told me Caleb’s mother’s getting out of jail.”
“Yeah,” Blair said. “Morgan’s really depressed. If she doesn’t talk Sheila into coming here, I don’t know what she’ll do.”
Cade looked at the boy, who chattered to himself as he climbed the three-step slide. “I’m praying for her.”
“Me too,” she said. “I do that now, you know. Pray, I mean. Now that I’m a Christian and all. A real one.”
Cade hated himself for ever suggesting she wasn’t. “I know you are, Blair. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just mad.”
“No kidding.”
He smirked. “I’m still ticked that you gave credence to Carson Graham, but I’m man enough to forgive you.”
“And I’m woman enough to accept your apology.”
“Apology?” he said. “I’m not apologizing.”
“And I’m not admitting wrong.”
He couldn’t help smiling. “You make me crazy, you know that?”
“You’ve mentioned it before.”
He watched Caleb try to go up the slide the wrong way. “So, what’re you doing tonight?”
“What have you got in mind?”
“I wanted to drop by Carson Graham’s show, just to see how he operates. Want to come?”
“I don’t know. The Bible calls that stuff detestable. You should look it up.”
Touché. “I’m not going for entertainment, but I want it to look like I am.”
“So is he a suspect?”
“Let’s just say he’s a person of interest. I’m not entirely sure Ben’s the right man. And that’s off the record.”
Blair locked her eyes on him as she considered his offer. “What time will you pick me up?”
CHAPTER 45
Caleb was sleeping when Morgan and Sadie got back. Morgan went upstairs to check on him. The child lay face down, his cheek mashed against the mattress, his thumb in his mouth. Did his mother know he was a thumb sucker? Would she let him do it or slap his hand away?
She leaned over the crib rail and picked the boy up. He stirred awake, his face warm against her neck. She carried him into her room and laid him gently down on the bed. He put his thumb back in his mouth and began sucking again as she curled up next to him.
Stroking his little head, she began to cry. Please, Lord. Don’t take this baby away from me.
Even if Sheila did come to live with them, Morgan’s days of mothering the baby would end.
Did she even have a choice?
What if he’s the only baby I ever have?
She touched her stomach and wondered how it would be to feel the swell of a baby, the flutter of his movement, the kick from a little foot. Even the morning sickness would be welcome.
She cried into the pillow and prayed that the results of her hormone test would be good news, and not further deplete her hope.
Monday morning, when Morgan and Jonathan went to learn the results of her FSH test, she knew the news was not good. Dr. Sims met them in his office, a grim expression on his usually pleasant face.
“As I told you before I did the test, the follicle-stimulating hormone enables your ovaries to produce eggs. Whenever the FSH level is over twenty, it tells us that your ovaries may not be working like they should.”
“What was my level, Doctor?”
“Forty-two.”
She felt as if he’d thrust a fist into the middle of her stomach, knocking the breath out of her.
Jonathan took her hand. “So, what does that mean? Will we be able to have children?”
The doctor sighed. “I never say never.”
Morgan’s heart plunged.
“At this point, I usually put a patient on Pergonal, which helps stimulate follicle growth. In your case, with such high numbers, I think a more aggressive approach might be in order.”
“Aggressive?” Jonathan asked.
Morgan tried not to cry. “But I don’t understand. My miscarriage didn’t have anything to do with my eggs, did it?”
Dr. Sims got up and came around the desk, and sat on the edge of it, facing them like a friend instead of a doctor. “Morgan, we don’t know for sure what caused your miscarriage, but it may have had to do with the maturity of the egg. My goal in treating you would be to stimulate the follicle production with Pergonal, harvest the egg at the right time, and then fertilize it in our lab.”
Morgan couldn’t believe she was hearing him right. “Are you suggesting in vitro fertilization?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. We’ve had a tremendous success rate with this procedure.”
“Wait a minute.” Jonathan looked as if he’d been threatened. “I thought IVF was a last resort, for people who had no other hope. I thought you
were supposed to try everything else first.”
The doctor shrugged. “Some do, but I realize how much the two of you want a family. While you’re trying other things, Morgan’s biological clock is ticking.”
“Dr. Sims, she’s only twenty-nine. It’s not like her time is running out.”
“Can I be honest with you?” Sims asked in a soft voice.
“That’s what we want, Doc.”
“Lisa tried everything else first. By the time she and Ben decided to try IVF the first time, she was pushing forty.”
It made sense. Morgan looked up at Jonathan, wishing he wouldn’t reject the idea outright. They needed to listen, at least.
“How much money are we talking about for a procedure like that, Doctor?”
He went back around the desk and sat down. “It varies. Insurance usually doesn’t cover the retrieval of the egg, the embryology lab, or the transfer of the embryo. The cost in my office usually averages ten thousand dollars, depending on several factors.”
Jonathan looked sick.
“What if it’s not successful?” Morgan asked. “Would other attempts be included in that price?”
“No, that cost is per treatment. It’s a very high-tech procedure, and it’s expensive. Most people think it’s worth it when they’re holding that baby in their arms.”
Morgan couldn’t imagine coming up with ten thousand dollars for something that might not even work. She met Jonathan’s eyes and saw the helplessness there.
“We could never afford that,” he said. “No way.”
“Some of my patients take out loans. Mortgage their houses, that kind of thing. There are ways to make it work. I haven’t known a single couple to regret the sacrifice.”
Tears were coming, and Morgan couldn’t stop them. “I never thought it would be this way. I thought I’d get married and have a baby, then another baby, and another…Infertility never crossed my mind.”
Dr. Sims looked as if he hurt with her. “Morgan, I know this is difficult. I can tell from the short times I’ve spent with you that you would be a wonderful mother. We’re going to make it happen, okay?”
Later, as they drove home, Morgan wept quietly.
Jonathan took her hand. “Honey, it’s going to be all right. If God wants us to have a baby, we will.”
That was just it. What if he didn’t want them to? “I feel kind of like Sarah,” she said, “working it all out in my own way. Is Pergonal my Hagar? Is IVF my Ishmael?”
“What if it’s God’s provision?”
“Why would he need to provide that way, when he could just touch me and make me conceive? He’s the one who creates life. Why can’t he create it in me?” She looked over at Jonathan and saw the tears brimming in his eyes.
“Are you saying we just need to trust?” Jonathan asked. “To wait for God’s timing?”
“I don’t know! What if we do that and never have a baby and realize that we missed the opportunities he gave us?”
“We could adopt, if it came to that.”
“That takes years, too. I want to be pregnant, Jonathan. I want to have a baby that looks like us. I want to be able to say, ‘You’re just like your father.’ And I don’t want any biological mother coming to take him back.”
“It wouldn’t be the same as having a foster child. An adopted child would really be ours.”
Silence fell over them as Morgan thought of little Caleb. She knew she had it in her to love a baby that wasn’t biologically hers, but she wasn’t ready to give up the idea of having her own child. “Caleb’s not ours, and we’re going to lose him.”
“No, we’re not,” Jonathan insisted. “Sheila will come. You’ll see.”
“But I wanted to be his mother.”
He reached over and pulled her into his arms, and he held her for a long time.
“I have to surrender,” she said finally. “I have to just surrender to whatever God is doing. I have to believe it’s the best thing.”
“Honey, if God wants us to do the whole infertility thing, he’ll show us. We’ll have peace about it. We have to be open to seeing the signs when he gives them. But in my heart, I see you as a mother, Morgan, and I see myself as a father. It’s going to happen, honey, one way or another. If we have to do these treatments, we will. If we have to go to some foreign country to adopt, we’ll do it. We’ll do whatever is necessary to have the family that I know God has planned for us. We’re going to go through this together, whatever we decide.”
Morgan looked out the window, her heart sending up pleading prayers for help.
Even with all the best science had to offer, Morgan knew God was their only real hope.
CHAPTER 46
Blair had trouble deciding what to wear on her pseudo-date to Carson Graham’s show. She hated herself for being so self-conscious and vain, when she’d once had such contempt for women who spent too much time in front of the mirror.
She settled on a pair of white slacks and a pink blouse, one she’d bought on a whim when she’d been starry-eyed about Cade. Sitting in front of the mirror, she put on her makeup, paying careful attention to her eyes. She wanted to knock his socks off tonight, even if they were going for business.
But it was almost hopeless.
She put her hand over the right side of her face, imagining what she’d look like without the scars. She might have been print-ad pretty, like her sister. Pageant material. Drop-dead gorgeous.
She moved her hand and saw the whole picture, the same face Cade saw each time he looked at her.
She parted her hair on the side and brushed it to fall in front of her scars. If it hung just right and shone just enough, maybe he would be distracted from her scars.
The doorbell rang and Blair turned away from the mirror. She wouldn’t look at her reflection again for the rest of the night. There was no use ruining a perfectly promising date.
The sight of Cade made her heart jolt. He wasn’t in uniform tonight. He wore a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt—and a gentle smile on his face. “Hey there. You look nice.”
She fought the urge to turn her face away. “Thanks. So do you.”
He stepped inside and bent down to kiss her. Then slowly, he swept her hair back from her face, exposing it fully. His gaze swept over her face—all of it—and if she hadn’t known better, she would have believed there was pure pleasure in his eyes.
Her heart beat like a jackhammer as he took her hand and escorted her to his truck.
He is going to marry you, you know. Carson Graham’s prediction came back to her, fluttering like a hummingbird through her heart.
She tried to put it out of her mind, but it was there, a hope spoken aloud, stamped on her subconscious, always lingering in her mind.
No matter how often she told herself the man was a fake, she still hoped the psychic knew what he was talking about.
CHAPTER 47
The club at the Frankfurt Inn was filling up fast, and Blair wished they had come earlier to get a decent table. She followed Cade through the crowd to a small table in the back corner of the room.
“Can you believe this crowd?” he muttered as they sat down.
“Yeah. Looks like Lisa’s murder was a real boon to Carson.”
“It’s the big break he’s been waiting for.” Cade’s eyes scanned the crowd at the many familiar faces. He saw George O’Neill and Harold Delaney, two of the town’s city councilmen, sitting near the front with frosty mugs of beer.
“Is that Bruce over there?” Blair pointed through the people.
Cade looked and saw the newest member of his police force sitting at a table full of friends. He sighed. “Great. Even my own men are buying into this stuff.”
Blair’s eyes swept over the crowd. A couple of church members sat at another table, watching them as if wondering what would bring them here. She supposed she couldn’t blame them for their curiosity. “If this guy’s a fake, he sure has a lot of people fooled.”
“If he’s a fake?” Cade
breathed a laugh. “He is one, Blair. He’s a con artist and a liar.”
The lights flickered, indicating that the show would begin soon. Blair looked toward the stage as people hurried to find seats. Was Cade right, and so many others wrong? He is going to marry you, you know. Graham had been right before. The pianist sat down at the piano at the side of the stage and began a Broadway-type intro that quieted everyone.
Blair spotted Rani coming in, and when she saw them, Rani made a beeline toward them. She smelled of cigarette smoke and Obsession perfume. “Hey, guys. Mind if I share your table?”
“Sure,” Cade said. “Pull up a chair.”
She sat down and grinned at them both. “I’m so glad to see you two here. Finally, you’ll see what Carson is all about. I’ve been to his show every night since I met him. It’s fascinating. Tell the truth, Cade. You’re starting to believe, aren’t you?”
Cade bristled. “No, actually, I’m not. I’m just here to watch.”
A spotlight came on as the music crescendoed. The manager of the Frankfurt Inn walked onto the stage and introduced Carson Graham as if he were a rock star.
The crowd applauded enthusiastically and the curtains parted. Carson stepped out, arrayed in a purple sequined coat with a red satin shirt. His head, freshly shaved, shone in the lights.
He clutched the mike like a nightclub singer. “Thank you, thank you everybody. Thank you for coming.”
Rani clapped so hard she almost came out of her seat. Blair just looked at Cade, noting the tension on his face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my beautiful assistant, Amber—who also happens to be my bride—is coming around the audience with a velvet bag right now. She’d like for you to throw in personal objects. If you have a cigarette lighter or a pen, a pair of glasses—anything—just throw it in. But beware! When I pull your object out of the bag, I might be inclined to tell some of your deepest, darkest secrets.”
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