“You have something in mind?”
“It’s such beautiful weather here,” she said. “And I have another full week off.”
“After church tomorrow, we’ll take Tommy for a picnic in the park,” Tom said. “Then we can come back here and make love all afternoon.”
Anne smiled. Sounded wonderful to her. “I think it’s possible that I’ll be producing the breast milk Tommy needs soon. I don’t suppose there’s any need for us to hurry into a divorce?”
Tom wrapped his arms around her so tightly that not even the moonlight could come between them. “No need at all,” he assured her.
Yes, she could play a role in Tommy’s life, Anne thought. Be there for him, watch him grow up. It would be just as if he were her own child.
Her own child. The warmth of those words brought a wonderful gladness to Anne’s soul. She didn’t have to hold back her heart anymore. Tommy didn’t have another mother. She didn’t have to give him up.
She could be his real mother.
And a real wife to Tom? He said he loved her. And if there were ever a man who could mean those words, it was Tom.
There was just one thing left that she needed to know.
“Tom?”
“Yes?”
“When we first made love, you told me it had been a long time for you,” she said. “Would you tell me now how long?”
“Since I entered the seminary five years ago.”
She turned in his arms to look at him. “You’re so damn close to being a saint. Celibate for five whole years! And here I imagined dozens of women left swooning in your wake.”
Tom smiled, amused at her description. “You said it had been a long time for you, as well.”
“Since I discovered my husband was unfaithful four years ago,” Anne admitted.
“Ah, so that was a halo I saw around your head the first time you attended the Church of the Good Shepherd.”
“Very funny, Thomas Christen.”
He laughed, and the warmth of the sound nestled secure inside her soul.
Maybe this marriage could last awhile, she thought. A good long while.
“All along I thought you’d fallen down in your vows,” she said as she snuggled her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But the truth is, you’ve been standing by them.”
Tom leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “All of them, Anne. Always. Please remember that.”
“It’s kind of a shock discovering you’re not such a sexy sinner.”
He chuckled as he ran his hand down the exquisite curve of her spine. “If you’re disappointed, I can always tell you about all the women that came before the seminary....”
“Do it and die,” she threatened as she molded her mouth to his.
* * *
DR. BENNETT WAS a stout, middle-aged woman with graying brown hair and a face that had a lived-in look, as if its owner wouldn’t be surprised by much. She recognized Tom immediately and greeted him by name.
“Theresa and Jeff Ballard graciously gave us their appointment,” Anne explained. “I’m Judge Vandree.”
“Are you interested in some fertility counseling, Judge Vandree?” the doctor asked as she gestured them to seats in front of her desk.
“No. I’m here to find out some of the specifics concerning Theresa Ballard’s fertility treatments.” Anne handed Dr. Bennett the note Theresa had written. “As you know, Father Christen was her sperm donor.”
Dr. Bennett read the note, then looked at Tom. “So you obviously don’t mind if I discuss this with Judge Vandree?”
“Please feel free,” he said.
The doctor turned back to Anne. “How may I help?”
“Dr. Bennett,” Anne said, “I have reason to believe that some of the sperm donated by Father Christen reached unauthorized hands.”
“That’s not possible,” Dr. Bennett said. There was nothing defensive in her tone, just polite denial.
“How can you be so sure?”
“My security is foolproof.”
“Perhaps you’d like to explain it to me,” Anne said.
“If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you. But you’ll have to leave the baby with a staff member.”
“He doesn’t take well to strangers,” Anne said.
“I’ll stay here with him,” Tom offered.
Anne nodded as she followed Dr. Bennett into the back of the fertility lab. They stepped into an enclosed booth, where Dr. Bennett donned a dark-blue smock over her street clothes and beckoned for Anne to do the same. Next she affixed caps over their hair and white surgical masks over their faces.
“We’re not really sterile, so don’t touch anything,” Dr. Bennett cautioned. “This is just to keep the ambient bacteria to a minimum.”
Anne nodded as she followed Dr. Bennett deeper into the lab.
The in vitro fertilization laboratory proved to be an expanse of stainless steel cabinets and scientific apparatus. Dr. Bennett pointed out equipment with names like Isolette, incubators, laminar flow hoods and stereo microscopes.
“The woman is first stimulated for eight to ten days with injected medications to insure multiple egg development,” Dr. Bennett explained. “We need a minimum number of four to five eggs. When the woman’s follicles are mature, a transvaginal ultrasound-guided egg aspiration procedure is performed to extract the eggs from the follicles.”
“In other words, you remove the eggs from the woman’s body,” Anne said.
“It only takes about five minutes here in the lab,” Dr. Bennett told her. “The sperm donor is brought in at the same time. The eggs are immediately fertilized with the fresh, donated sperm and the embryos are cultured here for two to six days. This is my embryologist, Cecily. She’s screening a cultured embryo now. Would you like to take a look?”
The masked and fully draped Cecily stepped aside so Anne could gaze into the microscope.
“It’s a day-five embryo at the blastocyst stage,” Cecily said helpfully.
It looked just like a big circle with bumps to Anne. She drew back from the microscope. “What happens next?”
“The embryos are transferred into the woman’s uterus, where they will hopefully implant and develop into a live birth. We have an excellent implantation rate. Theresa Ballard giving birth to triplets is not unusual.”
“And what of the leftover sperm?” Anne asked.
“There is no leftover sperm, Judge Vandree,” Dr. Bennett said. “Whatever sperm is not required to fertilize an egg on the day it’s retrieved is immediately disposed of. We only deal in fresh sperm, never frozen.”
No frozen sperm? Then how did Lindy get a hold of Tom’s? Anne was confused. She had been so sure she had the answer. What was she missing?
“Dr. Bennett, are you sure—”
“We do not store sperm here, Judge Vandree. Only embryos.”
Embryos?
Anne’s pulse quickened as a new thought presented itself. “How many viable embryos were produced for Theresa Ballard?”
“I’ll have to check,” Dr. Bennett said as she walked over to the computer terminal sitting on the stainless steel counter. It took her a moment to bring up Theresa Ballard’s file.
“A total of four embryos were produced in the fertility process. The embryo transfer procedure was used on three.”
“What happened to the other embryo?” Anne asked.
“It was cryopreserved at the request of the Ballards and placed in a storage receptacle. It may be used if they decide they want to get pregnant again.”
“Where is the storage receptacle?”
“It’s in the next room in one of several special tanks. The embryos are stored in a special straw and then immersed in liquid nitrogen at minus one hundred nine
ty-six degrees Celsius.”
“Dr. Bennett, I need to verify that that fertilized embryo is where it’s supposed to be.”
“Is all this really necessary?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” Anne answered.
The doctor studied Anne’s determined look for a moment before she referred back to the record on her screen and jotted down a notation. Then she cleared the screen, got up and entered the next room, which contained rows and rows of tanks with a biohazard sticker on the top and a large 34HC imprinted on the base.
The doctor referred to the notation she had copied from Theresa Ballard’s computer record. After donning special gloves, she walked over to a tank, and opened the top. Visible vapors rose from it, curling into the air.
Dr. Bennett studied the identification strips of the special straws inside, looking for the code that would match the one on the computer for Theresa’s embryo. Several minutes went by.
“It’s gone,” she said as she turned toward Anne, unwelcome surprise flickering in her eyes.
Anne felt a sharp splinter of ice pierce her heart.
Dr. Bennett stared at her. “You knew. How?”
“You had a forced entry into the lab approximately a year ago, didn’t you?” Anne guessed.
“Well, yes. But it was just vandalism. A broken window in the back. Nothing was taken.”
“You checked on all your embryos at the time to make sure?”
“Well, no,” Dr. Bennett admitted. “We have hundreds of embryos stored here.”
Anne had feared as much, but until the doctor’s confirmation, she had still hoped. Now there was no hope.
“But if you’re implying that someone broke in to purposely steal this one, it can’t be true,” Dr. Bennett told Anne. “Our computer records can only be accessed with the right password. It wold take a computer expert to find Theresa Ballard’s file and discover where her embryo was.”
“She was a computer expert,” Anne said.
“Who are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter. Dr. Bennett, I need you to perform a genetic test on the baby Father Christen is holding in your office to verify that he’s a match to Tom Christen and Theresa Ballard. And I need it now.”
“You think that child is a live birth from the missing embryo?”
“No, Doctor,” Anne said sadly. “I know it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“YOU KNEW THE truth the whole time,” Anne said in a tone full of disillusionment.
Tom could feel her eyes on him as he drove them home from seeing Dr. Bennett. The moment he’d learned Anne had found out about his having donated sperm to Jeff and Theresa, Tom knew that this conversation was inevitable. And he had dreaded it.
“Yet you let me think Tommy was really yours,” Anne said, anger licking beneath her words.
“I am his biological father, Anne.”
“But not his legal father. Jeff Ballard is his legal father. And Theresa Ballard is his legal mother.”
Anne looked away from Tom to stare out the windshield, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes, trying to do private battle with her distress. Trying, but not succeeding.
The scenes from their picture-perfect Sunday together kept playing in her mind. Tom making her breakfast and serving it to her in bed. Their family picnic in the park with little Tommy. Their long, lazy afternoon of lovemaking. The pride and happiness she had felt holding her baby to her breast as he drifted off to sleep.
The sweet memories stabbed at her soul.
“How ridiculous I must have looked going through all that effort to try to generate milk for Tommy,” Anne said. “And how pathetic you must have thought me as I went on the other night about being able to breast-feed him soon.”
“Everything you’ve done has been out of love,” Tom said gently. “There is nothing ridiculous or pathetic about love.”
“On the contrary,” Anne said, her voice now harsh with desolation. “It’s all ridiculous and pathetic.”
Tom’s sigh was deep and private. All along he’d known that Anne’s growing attachment to Tommy was going to lead to problems. Because they were going to have to give him up.
Still, he had not been able to warn her. In any way.
And even if he had been able to warn her, how could he have told her not to let the little boy steal her heart when he hadn’t been able to keep the baby from stealing his?
Anne’s own pain made her blind to his. She had no idea what it meant for him to give up Tommy.
Tom had never had a problem accepting the triplets born to Jeff and Theresa as the children of his friends. He was their godfather, nothing more.
But Tommy was different. Had been since the first time Tom held him and tried to ease the little boy’s sorrow. He had felt the bond between them, just as real as though the infant had always been a part of his heart.
Tommy was his—and yet not his.
“You knew when you told me Tommy was your baby that I would misunderstand,” Anne said after a moment. “Why did you do it?”
“I never wanted to tell you Tommy was mine. But if I hadn’t that day you came by the church, you would have put him in the hands of Child Care Services.”
“So what you’re saying is that it’s all my fault for getting involved.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. The truth is, if you hadn’t become involved, hadn’t discovered how Tommy was conceived, Jeff and Theresa Ballard might never learn they have another son.”
“Because you wouldn’t have been able to tell them,” Anne said, and her words suddenly took on the force of an accusation. “Is that why you kept me around? So I’d follow the clues and come out with the information outside of the confessional?”
Stunned, Tom turned to look at her. “You can’t believe that, Anne.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she said, and the very real doubt on her face and in her voice drove a stake into his heart.
Tom took a deep, steadying breath. “I know this has been a shock. Please, give yourself time. We can handle it together.”
“I don’t want to handle anything. I just want to go home.”
“We’ll be there in a minute.”
“I don’t mean your home.”
“It’s not my home. It’s ours.”
“I know what’s mine and what isn’t,” Anne said, speaking quickly, forcibly through the pain. “I’ll call Pat and tell her about Shrubber and Butz and Faust. She can get the report directly from Dr. Bennett on Tommy’s paternity. Then I’m leaving for the Berkshires. You needn’t worry about driving me. Fred will come and get me.”
“Anne, don’t,” Tom said. “We have to work through this.”
“There’s nothing to work through. We only got together because of the baby. We only got married to make sure you remained a priest. None of that is necessary now. I’ll tell the bishop the truth.”
Tom pulled the car into a parking spot just down from the house, shut off the engine and turned to Anne.
“The truth is that Tommy has had nothing to do with my wanting to be with you, Anne. And I didn’t marry you to remain a priest. I married you because I love you.”
Anne’s sigh was so sad it was almost a sob. “I don’t believe in love. And I don’t want to be the wife of a priest. You keep the most dreadful secrets. And this secret you kept from me, Tom...this secret is breaking my heart.”
She did sob then, and Tom’s heart wrenched with pain for her. But when he reached to hold her, she pulled away and got out of the car.
He watched her as she stood on the sidewalk, rubbing the tears from her cheeks as fast as they fell, struggling to regain control. She was so strong that he had forgotten how tender her heart was. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how deeply s
he loved Tommy or how much losing him would hurt her.
Tom knew he had been the one to bring her this pain. Somehow he was going to have to find the words to ease that pain and make this right between them. But at the moment he had no idea what those words were.
He slowly got out of the car and slipped Tommy out of his car seat. As he carried him toward the front door to the house, he realized it was probably for the last time. He treasured the feel of the little boy in his arms, gathering the memory into his heart.
And prayed he wouldn’t be losing Anne, as well.
All the way he heard Anne’s footsteps following behind him. Way behind him. She was keeping her distance both emotionally and physically. And with every passing second, he could feel the gulf widening between them.
I don’t want to be the wife of a priest.
The remembered words rubbed raw against his soul. He could and would give up anything for her—except who he was.
Tom put the key into the lock and opened the door to their home. They had to work through this. He could not lose her now.
He would not lose her now.
But as Tom turned toward Anne, his heart gave a sharp jolt.
Claude Butz stood at the bottom step of the brownstone. The big man had hold of Anne’s shoulder and held a gun to her head. Tom’s pulse pounded as every muscle in his body ached for action.
“Step inside nice and slow, preacher,” Butz said.
Tom knew he didn’t have any choice. He had to bide his time, wait for an opening despite the desperate need churning in his gut to get that gun away from Anne’s head. Slowly he backed into the house, shifting Tommy to the crook of his arm, keeping his eyes on Butz, looking for the slightest opening.
But Butz was cautious. He advanced slowly into the house himself, his hand gripping Anne’s shoulder as he pushed her before him, keeping the gun to her head. Once inside, he kicked the door closed behind him.
“Do what I tell you and nobody’s going to get hurt,” Butz said. “Very slowly I want you to walk toward the judge here and hand her the kid. Then she and I will be leaving.”
Anne’s face was deathly white. Tom knew that he would die before he let this man take her anywhere. Or Tommy.
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