Cradle and All

by M. J. Rodgers

  “So, you were listening.”

  “To you, Anne, always,” Tom said as he slam-dunked two bags of cookies into the basket.

  Anne immediately dug them out and shoved them back on the shelf. “How can you consume such junk food and not have an ounce of fat on you?”

  “Healthy genes. I suppose your favorite section of a grocery store is the fruit and vegetable aisle?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact it is,” Anne said. “Don’t tell me you don’t like them.”

  “My love, I like anything I don’t have to prepare.”

  An amused smile drew back her lips.

  When they had bought their groceries and were on the way to the car, Tom took the opportunity to wrap his arm across her shoulders. It felt so good to be able to touch her at will, to feel her response as she leaned into him.

  “It’s a shame it’s the weekend already,” she said. “Everything is closed and I really wanted to find out about that doctor.”

  “If that’s your wish, I have a friend who should be able to help,” Tom said. “I’ll call him when we get home. Right after our celebration.”

  “Celebration?” Anne repeated.

  Tom took a perfect peach tulip from behind his back and presented it to Anne. “Happy anniversary.”

  “What anniversary?” Anne asked as she took the flower, inordinately pleased that he had both noticed and remembered her preference for tulips.

  “You’ve already forgotten we met a week ago today?” Tom asked, shaking his head. “Whoever said women were the romantic sex?”

  “A week,” Anne exclaimed as she leaned into the car to put the baby in the car seat. “I can’t believe it’s only been a week.”

  Tom checked his watch. “And now it’s a week and ten seconds.”

  “You can’t possibly have remembered the exact second,” Anne protested.

  “Can’t I?” Tom asked, smiling as he held the car door open for her.

  * * *

  “IT WAS NICE of your friends to invite us over for dinner,” Anne said as Tom drove them to their house that evening. “Have you known them long?”

  “Jeff and Theresa Ballard are parishioners in the Boston parish I told you about.”

  “The parish where you ran the homeless shelter.”

  “Yes. Jeff employed a couple of the kids for me. He’s the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. He’s also on the medical review board of ethical practices. He pretty much knows every doctor in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”

  The Ballards’ home turned out to be in Brookline, a suburb of Boston. It was a well-kept, two-story colonial with a lovely flower-filled front yard that made Anne envious.

  Jeff greeted them at the door with a ready smile. He was stocky, in his early forties, nearly bald, with an open face and lively dark eyes. His wife, Theresa, was taller and slim, with medium-brown hair and eyes, and an infectious laugh.

  Anne liked the couple on sight.

  When Tom introduced Anne to them as his wife, an uneasy sensation coursed through her. She considered the ceremony they had gone through as merely a temporary means to an end. But Tom’s declaration of their relationship to his friends and the returning warmth of their congratulations made her realize that Tom considered it more.

  She knew she was a fool not to have thought of this before. Tom was a priest. He believed he loved her. He had married her. And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t been willing to consummate that marriage. Many times over again.

  He considers this a real marriage.

  That realization detonated in her mind, a time bomb of new complications.

  Jeff and Theresa went out of their way to make Anne feel welcome. There was nothing formal or pretentious about them. They opened their comfortable home to her with friendly hospitality and made her feel like one of the family.

  Anne helped Theresa in the kitchen while Tom took care of Tommy and Jeff tried to keep up with his and Theresa’s triplets, three brown-haired little boys who had just turned fourteen months old. The rambunctious toddlers weren’t still a moment, tearing around the living room and hollering happily.

  “Your children are charming,” Anne told Theresa as she tossed a salad.

  Theresa flashed her a proud mother’s smile. “Don’t be too eager for Tommy to start walking,” she warned as she elbowed the refrigerator door closed after grabbing some milk. “Once they do, life as you know it is over.”

  Anne laughed. But beneath her laughter she was sobered by the assumption implicit in Theresa’s words—that she would be around to see Tommy walk.

  “You must have been thrilled when you learned you were going to have triplets,” Anne said.

  “Oh, yes. Of course, with embryo transplant, it’s not nearly so rare an occurrence.”

  Embryo transplant? The phrase brought back memories for Anne. She had contemplated that possibility once—when she made herself face the options open to her and Bill if one of them proved to be infertile. Before he had proved to be unfaithful.

  Dinner was relaxed and quite informal. Everyone helped themselves to the green salad Anne had prepared, and Theresa’s freshly baked lasagna, along with an assortment of mixed vegetables, hot rolls and fresh fruit.

  The triplets ended up wearing most of the lasagna sauce, as did the carpet beneath their chairs. Both Theresa and Jeff took it in stride. They clearly adored their children and considered them more important than the messes they made.

  When everyone had finished eating, Jeff turned to Tom. “So who is this doctor you wanted to know about?”

  Tom swallowed some coffee before answering. “Martin Faust.”

  Jeff nodded. “I know of him.”

  “He’s an obstetrician, right?” Tom asked.

  “He’s board certified as such,” Jeff said, clearly choosing his words carefully.

  “What is it that bothers you about him, Jeff?” Tom asked, recognizing the restraint in his friend.

  “I know you and Anne won’t let this go out of this room,” Jeff said. “But there have been several complaints filed against him by his patients, saying he’s taken advantage of them when they’re in the stirrups.”

  Tom got the message. “And he’s still being allowed to practice?”

  “He wouldn’t if it were up to me,” Jeff stated. “But he’s careful. Never any witnesses. Never any physical evidence. Always an innocent-sounding explanation. And the truth is that some of the doctors on our review boards bend over backward to protect their own.”

  “What about legal measures?” Anne asked.

  “It would help if there were a legal verdict against him,” Jeff asserted. “But, like I said, he’s careful, which makes it difficult to prove. And the process of going to court is expensive and embarrassing for the women.”

  “Still, you’d think that word would get around,” Tom said.

  “His patient numbers dwindled considerably a few years ago when the complaints started to hit,” Jeff agreed. “But he’s still out there practicing. And a guy who’s gotten away with this kind of thing isn’t likely to stop. If there’s something you can tell me that will change that, I hope you will.”

  “You can count on it, Jeff,” Tom assured his friend.

  While Jeff and Tom saw to kitchen cleanup, Anne held Tommy on her lap and watched Theresa trying to convince her boys it was time to sit quietly on the living room couch. It wasn’t working.

  She finally gave up and let them play in a child-size medieval castle set up in the corner of the large family room.

  “I don’t know what we would have done if Tom hadn’t built that castle for them,” she said. “It’s the only thing that keeps them occupied for any length of time.”

  Anne looked closely at the beautifully carved wood and intricate
designs on the buildings. She could see the same attention to detail as Tom’s work on the mall models at the rectory.

  When Anne turned back to Theresa, she found the woman smiling at her. “It’s good to see Tom so happy. I’m glad he found you, Anne.”

  Anne smiled back, oddly pleased. It had been such a pleasant evening with his friends. And it felt so nice being part of a couple, knowing that she wouldn’t be going home alone to an empty house. There was Tom and Tommy now.

  It’s not real, she forcibly reminded herself. It’s not going to last. There is no happily ever after.

  “I can’t get over how much your baby looks like Tom,” Theresa said. “You’ll think me silly, I suppose, but I’m thankful the others didn’t.”

  “Others?” Anne repeated, confused.

  Theresa swept a hand toward her triplets, babbling happily away. “Jason, Jeremy and Jeff, Jr. look a lot more like me, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yes, I—”

  “I know my Jeff wouldn’t have said anything,” Theresa continued with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “After all, he was the one who suggested Tom be our donor. But their having inherited my coloring helped, I think, to...”

  Anne didn’t hear what Theresa thought. She couldn’t. The blood was pounding too loudly in her ears. Tom had donated sperm to these friends!

  Something was shifting in her mind, a piece falling into place, filling in the missing part of the puzzle that had previously not made any sense.

  “Anne, are you all right?” Theresa asked.

  Anne realized that she was staring at the triplets. She jerked her head toward Theresa, not thinking about what must be showing on her face.

  “Oh, my God, you didn’t know,” Theresa said, acute dismay turning her natural pink complexion chalk-white. “Oh, Anne, I’m so sorry. I thought Tom would have told you. I never imagined—”

  “Theresa, it’s all right,” Anne said in as soothing a voice as her current excitement would let her. “I’m glad you told me. I think it’s wonderful what Tom did for you and Jeff. And I very much doubt he’ll mind when he realizes you told me.”

  “But he should have been the one—” Theresa began.

  “Not necessarily,” Anne interrupted, pretty sure this was something Tom could never have told her because it was something that related to what Lindy had told him in her confession.

  “I feel terrible,” Theresa said.

  “You shouldn’t. You’ve just been a big help.”

  “Help?”

  “Theresa, when you gave birth fourteen months ago, did you or Jeff telephone Tom at the parish?”

  “Well, yes. Naturally, we were eager to share the news and arrange for the boys’ baptism.”

  “Did you say anything over the phone at that time to indicate that Tom was the biological father of your children?”

  “I think Jeff might have thanked Tom again for making it possible. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering if you might have been overheard,” Anne said.

  “I doubt it. It was just me and Jeff in the hospital room with the babies when we called.”

  “I didn’t mean from your end,” Anne said, her mind popping with possibilities. “Theresa, who was your fertility doctor?”

  Theresa looked confused at Anne’s question but answered easily enough. “Dorothy Bennett.”

  “May I speak to Dr. Bennett about your embryo transplant procedure?”

  Theresa still looked puzzled, but nodded. “Anne, what’s going on?”

  “I’m trying to track down the missing pieces of a very important puzzle. Will you trust me enough to just leave it at that until after I’ve spoken with Dr. Bennett?”

  Theresa studied Anne’s face for a moment. “Sure. If you can’t trust a judge and a priest, who can you trust?”

  Anne flashed her a smile. “I’ll need a note from you telling Dr. Bennett that it’s all right to talk to me.”

  Theresa nodded as she got up and went over to a small desk in the corner of the family room. She quickly scribbled out the note and handed it to Anne.

  “Dr. Bennett’s address and telephone number are at the top. But I should warn you, she’s booked for a month in advance.”

  “Oh,” Anne said, her voice full of disappointment. Now that she felt she was so close to the answer, her impatience for that confirmation was almost overwhelming.

  “Jeff and I have an appointment with her at ten on Monday. You could take it if you want.”

  “That would be great,” Anne said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all,” Theresa said. “We can reschedule.”

  Tom and Jeff came out of the kitchen then.

  “What are we going to reschedule?” Jeff asked.

  “Anne’s going to take our appointment with Dr. Bennett on Monday.”

  Anne watched Tom. Not a flicker, not a twinge, not a nerve moved in his face.

  They said good-night to his friends, thanking them for the evening. Tom gathered Tommy’s things and he and Anne headed out to the car.

  “Everything all right, Anne?”

  She looked over at the calm expression on his handsome face and wondered how anyone could keep the kind of secrets he did. When she had called him the strong, silent type, even she had not appreciated how strong and silent.

  “Couldn’t be better,” Anne said.

  And at that moment, she realized she had spoken the literal truth. For what she had just learned changed so much.

  * * *

  TOM MADE LOVE to Anne that night under the moonlight falling through the window glass. He began slow and easy to give her time to suckle the baby at her breasts. But by the time Tommy had fallen asleep, the passion they had for each other had already escalated to the point that only a fevered joining could satisfy.

  It had not been enough. Tom had so much more to tell her. So he had simply begun again.

  When Tom began to make love to Anne the second time that night, she felt a difference in him. He touched her as though she were made of very fine, very fragile fibers, as though she might break at any moment. Without a word, he let her know so many things that were important to him. How beautiful she was. How precious she was to him. How proud and grateful he was that she was his.

  His. She felt it. In every possessive sweep of his hand. In every soft caress. With every warm breath of his kiss. She had never known such eloquence. As their bodies joined and they became one, her heart expanded in her chest.

  The baby woke them a few hours later. Tom got up and prepared his bottle. He brought it back to the bed so Anne could hold the baby to the warmth of her bare skin as she fed him. Tom wrapped his arms around her and nestled her and the baby against him.

  The moonlight bathed her soft naked body. The sweet heat and fragrance of her skin filled his senses to overflowing. It was an exquisite moment, as so many with her were. Gratitude swept through him with such power that it left him shaken.

  “You know how no matter where you are physically, a part of you is somewhere else?” Anne asked, gently stroking the baby’s hair.

  “You mean when your mind is on something you need to do, or evaluating something you’ve done?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, exactly,” she said. “And yet at this precise moment with you and Tommy, I feel totally present. All of me. Nothing is missing. It’s so...perfect.”

  Tom couldn’t have expressed it better. He rested his cheek against hers. She might not be able to say the exact words, but whether she realized it or not, she did tell him she loved him in so many other ways.

  A few minutes later, Tommy stopped feeding. Tom burped him over the towel on his shoulder. Then he laid the little boy in his crib and returned to Anne’s side, drawing her close against him. He closed his eyes as he ran
his hand over the curve of her delicate shoulder, down the sleek length of her arm, across the flat surface of her tummy, absorbing her warmth and textures with his fingertips.

  “What you told me is true,” Anne said into the silence of the night. “Tommy is yours and yet you didn’t impregnate Lindy.”

  “Did you only just become sure of that, Anne?”

  “No, I knew you wouldn’t lie to me. What I didn’t know until now, though, is how it could be possible. Lindy learned you had donated sperm to Jeff and Theresa when she listened in on your calls at the parish. She stole some of your sperm. That’s what she meant when she told Butz she was going to pick out the father of her child. Dr. Faust inseminated her with your sperm and that’s how she gave birth to Tommy.”

  Tom was absolutely quiet.

  “Oh, I know you can’t comment on this, Tom. It was what Lindy confessed to you when she came by the church that Friday afternoon. I understand completely about your adherence to confidentiality. But I don’t need you to say anything. All I need is to talk to Dr. Bennett. She’ll confirm it for us when she discovers your sperm is missing. Then we can go through with the DNA test because we’ll have the proof of how Tommy came to be your child. That fake birth certificate the Kendralls have won’t mean a thing.”

  Still Tom said nothing.

  “As soon as we see Dr. Bennett, I’ll call Pat and have her go after Shrubber and Butz. Of course, I want Fred to get the credit for tying Butz into Lindy’s death. If it hadn’t been for her help, we wouldn’t have known about the car crash. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, Anne, I don’t mind.”

  A long, peaceful moment passed in which Anne thought about many things.

  “Tom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Who will conduct services in Cooper’s Corner tomorrow?”

  “I asked the priest in the neighboring parish to cover for me.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as I need to be away.”

  “So you don’t have to be back soon?”