The Family They Chose

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  Olivia felt sheepish. “Well, he is my husband.”

  Derek slapped the desk. “I know that, but he doesn’t own you. If you want a kid, then you should have a kid. Especially you. If we were talking about Lisa, I’d be singing another tune, but you were born to be a mother.”

  Heat spread across Olivia’s face and she felt every bit the old-fashioned, 1950s housewife. Their sister, Lisa, ran with the big boys. Even though she was the baby of the family, she had no trouble matching her brothers move for move.

  “I mean if Demetrios is right—and I’d stake my own reputation on him—then you have no time to waste.”

  Olivia chewed on her French manicured index fingernail, hoping to stave off another wave of tears before she could speak. Once she’d composed herself, she said, “Going on what Dr. Demetrios said, if we’re not able to harvest my eggs, this is all a moot point. So please don’t hold it against Jamison, Derek.”

  Derek frowned. “I thought we’d stored your eggs?”

  Olivia shook her head. “We used them up in the last in vitro attempt.”

  Derek squinted at her, a look that concerned her because when he pulled that expression he’d usually latched on to an idea that wasn’t always conventional. Then he turned to his computer and started tap-tapping on the keys.

  “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer her, but instead donned a pair of reading glasses and focused intently on his computer screen. A moment later, he said, “I’ve pulled up your file. I see we still have plenty of Jamison’s tadpoles frozen away. Reports indicate that they’re healthy and viable.”

  Olivia shifted in her seat. “Yes, but they’re no good if I can’t bring my half to the table.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Derek pursed his lips and pinned her with his intense gaze. He had his work face on again and was firmly back in professional mode. But she recognized something else in his expression.

  Olivia knew from experience that her brother’s line between right and unethical was sometimes a little blurred. She had a feeling that what he was about to say next might be a little speculative.

  Even so, she heard herself asking, “What do you mean?”

  Derek didn’t answer immediately. He paused as if giving her a chance to retract her question and get away. But she sat there as if bolted to the seat.

  Derek folded his hands and rested them on his desk. Then he leaned in.

  “How would you feel about using donor eggs?”

  Olivia cocked her head to the side, “I couldn’t do that.”

  Derek moistened his lips. His eyes darted from side to side. Then he pinned her with his steely gaze.

  “Why not? Demetrios could fertilize a donor egg with Jamison’s sperm and the zygote could be implanted in you to carry it to term. Voilà! You’d have your baby. Problem solved.”

  Olivia pulled back as if her brother had offered her poison.

  “Derek, it wouldn’t be my baby.”

  “Olivia—” his tone mocked her “—no one outside this room has to know.”

  “Chance Demetrios would know. Do you remember me telling you that we were just talking about how my biological cupboard is bare?”

  Derek rolled his eyes.

  “Wonder boy doesn’t know everything that goes on around this place. You have no idea the secrets we keep in here. There’s a whole section of classified files to which only a select few have access.”

  His maniacal expression made her uncomfortable, and for a moment she wondered if he’d gone a little mad.

  “If I tell Demetrios we have a special emergency stash of your eggs, he’ll believe me.”

  Olivia was chewing on her fingernail again. “But why would you have a special emergency stash of my eggs? It doesn’t make sense.”

  He looked at her as if she was insufferably dense. “Because, Olivia, you are likely going to be the first lady of our country, and that makes you pretty special. And if, perchance, there was an emergency—such as the one you find yourself in today—the eggs would be available to you. Understand?”

  No, she didn’t understand, because what he was suggesting sounded reprehensible. She looked at him as if in his face she could find the piece of the puzzle she was obviously missing—something to help her understand how this devious scheme could be okay.

  “You’re suggesting that I not include Jamison in this decision?”

  Derek shrugged a single shoulder, as if he were too annoyed to expend the energy to raise and lower both.

  “Go ahead and tell him if you think he’ll go for it.”

  Of course Jamison would never go along with this plan. She felt dishonest enough even being here behind her husband’s back. But even talking about getting impregnated with a child that wouldn’t be fully, biologically, theirs and trying to pass it off as theirs…This…if she did this…well, she wouldn’t be able to look her husband in the eye, much less live with herself.

  She was just about ready to say Thanks, but no thanks when Derek said, “Livie, don’t look at me like I’m a monster. The only reason I’m suggesting this is because you desperately want a child and it could very well save your troubled marriage.”

  His words hit like a painful punch to the gut.

  “I know it’s a lot to think about, but keep an open mind. I’m going to go ahead and relabel the eggs—they’re all from the same woman and according to the file she even has your coloring—just in case your New Year’s Eve test results don’t come back the way you’d hoped.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, Derek had a point. What if the test results proved that she’d waited too long? What if using donor eggs was her only option?

  Jamison would never agree to it.

  But she’d already come this far.

  What if what Jamison didn’t know was the only thing that could save their marriage?

  She certainly had a lot to think about before she dismissed this final option.

  Chapter Six

  Before heading off to dinner, Jamison excused himself from the delegation of Middle Eastern dignitaries and ducked inside his office to call Olivia.

  After living apart for more than two months then seeing her for two days, he didn’t think he could go four more days without her.

  He missed her that much.

  So when the group started making noises about staying in D.C. through the New Year, Jamison had promptly told them he’d be happy to leave them in the capable hands of his aide, Cameron McInerney, but he wouldn’t be in town.

  The dignitaries protested but Jamison simply joked that if he left his wife at home alone on New Year’s Eve he’d have to spend the rest of the year making it up to her.

  When the visiting sheikh shared his philosophy that women should never dictate a man’s actions—especially when it interfered with business—Jamison retorted respectfully, “Obviously, you’ve never met my wife.”

  And he meant it as a sincere compliment.

  It wasn’t that Jamison was heading home out of obligation. Not this time. As he’d said goodbye to Olivia earlier in the week, something had shifted. Right now, he longed to see his wife. He longed to wipe the slate clean. Longed to start off the New Year right.

  With Olivia in his arms.

  Somewhere recently he’d heard the idiom “a happy wife makes for a happy life.” It made so much sense. If she was happy, he wouldn’t have to worry about her seeking comfort in another man’s arms. With Olivia as his top priority all his plans would fall into place: his congressional work, his eventual bid for the White House (because what would it mean without Olivia by his side?) and their family.

  He’d been thinking and, depending on how things were between them this next week, maybe they should start trying again.

  That’s why he needed to call her right now.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Liv, it’s me.”

  She paused a few beats too long.

  �
��Jamison. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Everything’s fine. I was thinking about you and wanted to call.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s very sweet.”

  She sounded a little distant and formal. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms and show her that everything was going to be okay.

  “I’m also calling for another reason,” he said.

  “What?” She sounded wary. “You’re not calling to tell me you can’t make it home for New Year’s Eve, are you?”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, eager to put her mind at rest. “Actually, I’m calling to find out what your plans are on New Year’s Eve.”

  She was silent on the other end of the line, and for a moment, he wondered if they’d lost their telephone connection.

  “Olivia, are you there?”

  “Yes. I’m here.” She still sounded guarded and distant. “What do you mean?”

  He sat down behind his desk and picked up a photo of her. The juxtaposition of seeing her beautiful face smiling at him from the frame and hearing her sound so remote on the line made his heart ache.

  “I’m calling to ask you out on a date. This is my feeble attempt at being romantic.” He chuckled, then his voice got serious. “After being apart for so long, I didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume you’d be waiting for me.”

  “Thank you, Jamison. But of course, I wouldn’t make plans without you.”

  Her saying that made him smile.

  “I’ll be home late afternoon and we can do whatever you want. We can go out and paint the town or we can order in and have a nice quiet evening alone together.” He hesitated. “Maybe we could spend the whole night in bed and start talking about…babies?”

  “Oh, Jamison.” Her voice caught on his name. “As long as we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

  He let out a breath of relief. Now that the world had finally righted itself again, it almost felt as if it could start spinning in the right direction.

  “Even though Christmas didn’t go as planned, seeing you again after being apart for so long made me realize how much I love you. It also made me realize that even though I couldn’t admit it to myself until now, I’ve been afraid to start our family. Growing up in a broken home—knowing how my father’s leaving affected my mother and brothers, seeing what the hormones did to you, what the experience did to us, I guess I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was. But knowing how important having a baby is to you…Let’s just not let it change us, okay?”

  Olivia held the phone for a moment, although their call had ended, using it as a touchstone. In the span of mere seconds, she’d gone from being petrified that Jamison was calling to cancel their plans yet again to through-the-ceiling joy after hearing Jamison say he was ready to start trying for a baby again. That bipolar moment had finally evened out, settling somewhere in the middle, tempered by the guilty secret she was keeping from her husband. The only way she could fix this was to tell him that she’d already started seeing the doctor again without him.

  But she couldn’t tell him just yet.

  Not when he’d just come around. After fearing a baby would change their relationship, he’d need more time for the baby idea to gel before she told him the truth—that she’d moved forward without him.

  Not to mention that, first, she needed to hear her final prognosis.

  The next day, Jamison didn’t pick up the call from Cameron. He let it go to voice mail along with the other two-dozen voice mails McInerney had left that day. It was their routine, of sorts. Anything that could wait went to voice mail to be checked at designated times during the day. But when something needed urgent attention, Cameron followed up with a 911 text.

  The 911 came in at 2:22, the afternoon after he’d talked to Olivia to make plans for New Year’s Eve. The text read: Have received the background check on Dr. Chance Demetrios. Results require your immediate attention.

  Chance Demetrios?

  He’d been so busy, he’d put Demetrios out of his mind. Besides, it was just a momentary lapse of reasoning. He trusted his wife. So the message sent a jolt of anxiety through him. Jamison excused himself from the meeting, citing urgent business.

  What McInerney had waiting for him when he got back to the office made the anxiety he’d felt earlier seem like a warm bath: photos shot outside the Armstrong Institute. Photos of Olivia in the arms of Chance Demetrios.

  Jamison wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to hop on a plane and punch Demetrios. He wanted to look his wife in the eyes and ask, “Why?”

  He would ask her, all right. When he saw her in three days. In the meantime, though, he couldn’t talk to her. He needed to keep his distance, keep his cool, so that he didn’t do something he’d regret. Also, if he heard her voice there would be no way he’d be able to keep this to himself. And he needed to see her eyes when he asked her about it.

  How the hell was he going to hold this inside for three days?

  He ran through the options in his mind. He could cancel his meetings, saying he had a family emergency to attend to.

  No, if in fact Olivia was carrying on with Demetrios…though his heart still couldn’t reconcile her betraying him like that—not his Olivia. No, if he left it might draw attention to the situation, and he had to do everything he could to keep this under wraps.

  As anger simmered, he felt like a ticking time bomb that he hoped wouldn’t explode before he gave Olivia a chance to explain.

  Chapter Seven

  Dressed in a cobalt-blue suit and pearls, Olivia drove across the Salt-and-Pepper Bridge, which stretched over the Charles River, connecting Boston with Cambridge.

  The formal name of the bridge was actually the Longfellow, but locals had dubbed it “Salt-and-Pepper” because the structure’s central towers resembled salt-and-pepper shakers.

  The Children’s Home was located just across the river, not too far from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Olivia had served on the Children’s Home board since the year she and Jamison had married. Before she’d been appointed to the Children’s Home board of directors, she’d volunteered there when she was in college and knew it was such a worthy organization that it deserved as much support as it could get.

  In the nearly ten years that she’d been involved, Olivia had been instrumental in helping Pam Wilson, the executive director of The Children’s Home, write grants, raise funds and secure other means of political and community support for the Home.

  Other times, she filled in where they needed her. Whether it was answering the phone, taking the kids shopping for school supplies, or rolling up her sleeves and scrubbing toilets when the janitorial service didn’t show, she did what she could. Her favorite task was baking dozens of delicious cookies for the kids to take to school for birthday celebrations or bake sales, or sometimes the cookies were simply for them to enjoy as a special treat.

  Olivia’s goal as president of the board was to give the children—many of whom were here because of abuse, neglect or tragedy—as good a childhood as possible. Sometimes that meant singing songs and reading stories. Other times it meant getting her hands dirty. But she was game for whatever the kids needed, because she was passionate about the Children’s Home and the kids they served.

  It was never easy, though, when a new resident arrived. Usually the child was scared and skittish, oftentimes suffering emotional trauma after being displaced. Today, Pam needed all hands on deck because not one, but two little boys were arriving.

  Danny and Kevin Kelso had lost both of their parents in a nightmarish accident on the day after Christmas. The parents were coming home from a party and were hit head-on by a drunk driver. The boys had been home asleep in their beds, in the care of a babysitter.

  Since the boys had no living relatives, Boston’s Department of Children and Families had prevailed upon Pam to take the boys so that they could stay together. The home really didn’t have room, but when Pam called Olivia for special dispensation, Olivia had agreed that the boys shou
ld stay together at all costs—even if she had to bring them to her house until the Home could make a place for them.

  Keeping them together seemed extra important since three-year-old Danny had recently been diagnosed with autism.

  Little had she known when she’d decided to distract herself with baking bread and cookies, that the home would be in need of fare to welcome the new charges.

  There was nothing like good, homemade sugar and chocolate chunk cookies to make a child feel welcome.

  Olivia had promised Pam that she’d be there to help, because even under the best circumstances, welcoming a new resident wasn’t easy. Given the younger Kelso boy’s situation, today was sure to be doubly challenging.

  Shortly after nine o’clock, Olivia arrived at the Georgian-style mansion that housed the Children’s Home. The old home once belonged to the charity’s founder, who left it to the organization in trust to be used for kids left homeless or orphaned by abuse, neglect or tragedy. Olivia parked around back by the carriage house, which served as the nonprofit’s offices, and let herself in the kitchen door. She set the bread and cookies on the counter and went in search of Pam, whom she found in the great room.

  “Olivia, thank you so much for coming in today,” Pam said. “It seems like a lot to ask during the holidays.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I’m happy to do it. Besides, Jamison had to go back to D.C. and he won’t be back until New Year’s Eve.”

  “Big plans?” Pam asked.

  Olivia blushed. “We’re staying in and having a nice romantic evening—alone, for a change.”

  Over the years, Pam had become a friend—and someone to whom in the beginning, Olivia had confided in when she and Jamison had decided to start trying to get pregnant. But after it became clear that pregnancy wouldn’t come easily—and then with the ensuing bumps in their marriage—Olivia had become a bit more guarded.