The Greatest Gift

by Rachael Johns

  The three exchanged looks as if deciding who should take the question, and then Mel spoke again. ‘Yes, there are two main options available to recipient couples—an anonymous donor or a known donor. Overseas, in countries where you can buy human eggs legally, anonymous donation happens a lot more, but in Australia, it’s much more common to use a known donor. And it’s up to the donor and the recipients to determine what kind of contact they will have after the embryo transfer.’

  ‘And by “known donor” you don’t simply mean a friend or relative of the couple, but sometimes as in your case, a stranger who becomes known during the process. I’m curious. Amy and Shep, how did you find Mel?’

  ‘Mel runs an online group connecting women and couples with potential donors. I signed up to the group and we started chatting.’

  The rest of the hour went super fast, talking about the medical process involved in getting pregnant via egg donation, but also emotional ramifications for both parties and their families. Harper found herself surprised at how fascinated she was by their story.

  She had many more questions she wanted to ask, but Lilia was on the other side of the glass making wrap-it-up signals with her hands. Her producer ran a tight ship and didn’t like their interviews to go overtime any more than she liked mess on her desk.

  ‘We’re almost out of time,’ Harper said with a reluctant sigh, ‘but before we conclude our conversation, tell me, Mel, would you do this again? Either for the Birds or another couple.’

  ‘Actually,’ Mel began, ‘Amy and Shep’s baby will be the second born from my eggs. I also donated to a single mother who delivered a healthy baby boy earlier in the year and I’m currently in discussions with a gorgeous gay couple. But if that match goes ahead, then I think that’ll be it for me. Legally my eggs can be given to up to five families, including my own, but my husband and I feel comfortable with four. Though I’d donate again if any of my current families wanted a sibling for their children.’

  ‘Wow, what a generous gift you have given,’ Harper concluded, folding her hands together on the desk. ‘I want to thank you all for coming into the studio today and sharing your story. And if any listeners are considering donating or receiving eggs and would like more information about any aspect of the process, there’ll be a number of useful links in our show notes. I’ll be back tomorrow to interview Australia’s newest Guinness World Record Holder and you’ll be surprised to learn what that record is. But for now, over to Lucy for the four o’clock news.’

  As the news jingle sounded around them, Harper once again removed her headset. ‘You guys were great. Thanks so much for coming in,’ she said, pushing to her feet. She looked to Amy and Shep. ‘Best wishes for your new arrival. Be sure to send us a photo when he or she comes.’

  ‘Thank you, we will.’ Shep offered his hand in a goodbye shake as Lilia opened the door and hurried into the studio.

  ‘Great job,’ she said to the guests, and then ushered them out before they could continue the conversation. Most of the time, Harper appreciated Lilia’s efficiency, but today she wouldn’t have minded asking Mel a few further questions.

  Instead, she left the studio and went into the staff kitchen to grab a coffee. She grabbed a pod for the machine but was staring absently at it, thinking about Amy and Shep’s story, when Lilia found her. The producer paused in the doorway, her eyebrows raised and one hand perched on her hip. ‘Do I need to buy you a new watch?’

  Harper stifled a smile. So she’d almost gone over time, so what? ‘Sorry, but you and I both know the bad news would still have been waiting at five past four.’

  Lilia came further into the kitchen and stopped a few inches short of Harper. ‘What was all that about anyway?’

  Harper’s insides clenched but she frowned at her colleague and feigned ignorance. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Do you think I was born yesterday? There was something personal about that interview. You were different—more invested—when asking the questions.’

  ‘I thought I always came across that way,’ she exclaimed as she slotted the pod into the machine.

  Lilia’s expression softened to one of concern. ‘Are you and Samuel struggling to get pregnant? Is that it?’

  ‘No! God no.’ She almost laughed. ‘You know we don’t want children.’

  ‘Then what’s going on?’

  Harper sighed. That was the million-dollar question. ‘Do you have time for a drink?’ she asked.

  Chapter Two

  FEBRUARY 2011

  As Claire Wallace’s best friend and flatmate banged on her bedroom door, she looked longingly at the TV and prayed that her old DVR wouldn’t stuff up and fail to record Packed to the Rafters.

  ‘Hurry up,’ Polly called as she flung open the door. She was wearing the tightest hot pink miniskirt Claire had ever seen, a black tank top that accentuated her very nice cleavage, and knee-high black boots with a sparkly silver trim. Her make-up was impeccable as usual (perks of being a beautician) and she’d spent hours putting her hair into some messy chic up-do.

  When Claire didn’t make a move to get off her bed, Polly walked over to her and stopped with her hands on her hips. ‘Come on. We can’t be late or we’ll be left with the guys nobody else wants.’

  Heaven forbid. Claire wasn’t in the market for any man—rejects or otherwise—but she dragged her sorry self off the bed, smoothed down her dress, then grabbed her mobile and handbag. ‘It is testament to how much I love you that I’m willing to give up a relaxing night in front of the telly for a stupid Valentine’s Day party.’

  Polly’s mouth exploded into a full-on grin and she jumped up and down on the spot like a two year old needing to pee. ‘It’s not a stupid party, it’s a BYO Eligible Friend party. And we, my dear, are Eligible with a capital E! Why should all the smug couples be the only ones to have fun on Valentine’s?’

  ‘Whatever you want to call it, it still requires me leaving the house when I’d much rather stay at home with my cats, eat crap and watch Rafters.’

  As Polly grabbed her hand, Claire glanced back at the bed where her two ginger cats Gerry and Sunny lay sprawled across her floral bedspread. ‘Those two will still be there when you get back and if your recording stuffs up, I’ll buy you the bloody DVD when it comes out. Now, let’s get out of here. You look great by the way.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Claire said as they hurried down the hallway and out into the balmy late summer night. She had to admit this sunflower-print maxi-dress was one of her favourites.

  ‘Although perhaps it would be better if you were showing a little more skin.’ Polly paused momentarily to give Claire a once-over. ‘I could lend you something of mine, but—’

  Claire opened her mouth to give her friend a polite ‘no’, but Polly shook her head and added, ‘there’s no time.’

  ‘What a pity.’ Claire didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm as they locked up the flat and headed downstairs to her Mini Cooper—the old variety, or vintage as she preferred to call it. She’d volunteered to drive because someone had to stay sober to make sure Polly didn’t do anything too outrageous in the name of finding The One.

  Polly was obsessed with finding The One, whereas Claire had long ago resigned herself to a life as a singleton. She liked cats so she was halfway there already. And she was fine with this, really she was.

  The party was only a short drive away at a cream-coloured terrace house in Newtown and, despite them being punctual, the street was already lined with cars when they arrived. In the end they parked so far away that they may as well have walked. Music was blaring from inside the narrow terrace, and crowds of student types were spilling out the door into the tiny front yard. Claire’s older brother, Tim, an occupational health and safety officer, would be having conniptions if he were here.

  ‘OMG,’ Polly exclaimed, clutching Claire’s arm as they went through the open gate and a guy who looked like the Mad Hatter tipped his hat and welcomed them.

  ‘Evening ladies, h
ope you get lucky tonight.’

  Polly batted her eyelashes at him. ‘Thanks. You too.’

  ‘Is this a dress-up party as well?’ Claire whispered into Polly’s ear as they moved inside.

  Polly shook her head. ‘Nah, don’t think so. But if it is, just say you’re a summer garden.’

  Before Claire could ask who Polly would say she was dressed as—perhaps a streetwalker?—a tall red-headed man stepped in front of them. ‘Good evening girls. I’m Scotty and I hope you don’t mind me saying how lovely you’re both looking this evening.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Polly laughed and tilted her head to one side coquettishly. ‘I’d think it rude if you didn’t. I’m Polly, and this is my friend Claire.’

  Redhead grinned back. ‘Can I get you girls a drink?’

  ‘Thanks, that’d be great,’ Polly replied, before Claire could object. She’d been staring at Scotty’s chin, thinking how his ridiculously long goatee was almost the same colour as her cats.

  ‘No, thanks. Not for me,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m sticking to water, and we’ll come with you while you get Polly’s drink.’ There’d been so many reports of drinks being spiked lately that she wasn’t prepared to take any chances.

  He nodded, not seeming in the slightest bit offended by her suspicious nature, then turned to Polly. ‘Your name is almost as pretty as you are.’

  Oh sheesh. We have a smooth-talker. But Polly simpered with glee at Scotty’s words. They trekked into the kitchen, which was set up like a makeshift bar. Claire kept one eye on Scotty pouring Polly a wine, while she whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t you think you should mingle a little before getting cosy with this guy?’

  ‘Nah, I like him. Redheads are always better in bed. But you go mingle. Have fun.’ Polly didn’t actually shoo Claire away with her hands but her intent was clear. She wanted to get to know Scotty on her lonesome.

  ‘Fine. But please be safe,’ Claire said, then she nodded towards the back of the house. ‘I’m going to get some fresh air. My mobile is on vibrate so I’ll feel it if you call. If you’re not gonna need a lift home, let me know, because I might just be able to catch the end of Rafters.’

  ‘Oh, no, no, no!’ Polly shook her finger at Claire. ‘You are not leaving this party without getting either a snog or five phone numbers. Deal?’

  ‘Deal,’ Claire lied, knowing it was easier to do so than object. Polly was optimistic by nature, but she didn’t know the full story behind Claire’s stance on men and relationships.

  Claire was happy to let her believe she was simply unlucky in the dating department but the truth was much more complicated. She’d give Polly half an hour and if things were still looking good with the redhead, she’d get his details and head home.

  The backyard wasn’t as populated as inside, but there were people on the verandah smoking. So much for fresh air. Claire held her breath and ventured a little further until she came upon an ornate old-fashioned iron table and chair set beneath a massive fig tree.

  She’d barely sat down before she heard a deep voice a few feet away. Dammit, this spot wasn’t as isolated as she’d hoped.

  ‘That’s the best news ever! I’ll call Corrine tomorrow but give her my love.’

  She looked up and saw that the voice belonged to a man. He had his back to her and was talking on a mobile phone. As she watched, he slipped the phone into his pocket and spun around.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, his face filled with the biggest grin she’d ever seen. It was getting dark but there was enough moonlight to see that this guy was gorgeous. With a capital G, as Polly would say. Her friend should have looked around a little more before she settled on Scotty.

  ‘Hi,’ Claire said back, smiling herself because his was infectious. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.’

  ‘I’ve just become an uncle,’ he said as if he hadn’t registered her comment about eavesdropping.

  ‘Really? Congratulations.’ She tried not to let her smile falter but she couldn’t help the twinge in her heart at the mention of a baby.

  ‘Thanks. Not that I can take the credit. It’s my middle sister’s first kid.’ Clearly oblivious to her discomfort, he sat down on the vacant chair and thrust out his hand. ‘Sorry, I’m Jasper Lombard and I’m …’

  When he didn’t finish his sentence, she said, ‘Lost for words?’

  He chuckled. ‘Excited. I’ve never been an uncle before. I can’t wait to meet the little sweetheart.’

  ‘I’m Claire. Claire Wallace.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Claire.’

  ‘Likewise.’ And she meant it. Although babies weren’t her favourite topic of conversation, this guy’s enthusiasm was refreshing. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, a man who liked children appealed to something deep inside her.

  After a few moments silence, Jasper said, ‘I’m sorry. When you come to a hook-up party, the last thing you probably want to be talking about is babies.’

  Ignoring the latter part of this statement, she smiled. ‘Actually, this isn’t really my scene. I came kicking and screaming with my flatmate. Hey, I don’t suppose you could kiss me? I’d be happy with a peck on the cheek, but I promised her I wouldn’t leave without getting a snog or at least five phone numbers, and I really wanna bail on this party.’

  He leant across the table, and before she could tell him it was a joke, he pressed his mouth against hers in the most gentle but titillating kiss she’d had in her entire life. Her nipples tingled, her toes curled and that tender spot between her legs flooded with warmth. And then he pulled back.

  Her cheeks burning, she tried to catch her breath as she met his still-smiling gaze. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, resisting the urge to ask him to kiss her again. Suddenly she couldn’t even recall the name of the TV show she’d forgone to come here.

  ‘Always happy to help a lady out, but I’ll be sorry to see you go. We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other yet.’

  ‘Who’d you come with?’ she asked. What harm would it be to stay and talk to him a few moments?

  ‘My cousin. I’m visiting him and he said a condition of using his couch was being his eligible friend so he could come. So here I am.’

  Her mind latched onto one part of that sentence. ‘Oh, are you not from around here?’

  Jasper shook his head. ‘I live in the Hunter Valley. I came to Sydney to catch up with an old friend who lives overseas now but was back for only a few days.’

  ‘Wow. I haven’t been there much, but I love the Hunter Valley,’ she said, and then bit her lip to stop herself from grinning like a loony. The Hunter might not be another country but it was far enough away that the chances of developing a relationship were slim. But a quick fling was not out of the question. Claire wasn’t normally a one-night-stand kind of girl, but perhaps she could make an exception for this gorgeous guy.

  Because he was gorgeous. She put Jasper at about a head taller than herself. He had lovely broad shoulders and muscular arms, but he wasn’t too big. Still, it was his face she could barely stop from drooling over—his eyes and his smile to be precise. Thanks to the darkness she couldn’t quite define his eye colour, but she guessed them a silver blue, and they positively sparkled when the ends of those lovely thick lips twisted upwards. He had lots of dark-blond hair and it was kind of scruffy, but it suited him as much as his close-cut beard of the same colour. Until tonight, she’d have said facial hair turned her off, but right now, she was feeling very turned on.

  ‘What about you? Have you always lived in Sydney?’ he asked, and she realised she’d been watching his mouth move and that he’d presumably been talking about his home town for a while, but she hadn’t registered a word of it.

  ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘My parents own a bookshop in the inner city. I’ve spent a few years globetrotting but I came home recently for my older brother’s wedding. I wasn’t planning on staying, but two kittens were dumped outside my parents’ shop and I kinda fell in
love.’

  A worried look crossed his face. ‘You fell in love?’

  She was confused for a moment, but then rushed to reassure him that she wasn’t bound to anyone. ‘With the kittens. I was only meant to foster them until they found new homes, but I couldn’t bear to part with them, so I moved in with my old friend from school and … well, almost a year later, here I am.’

  ‘Yes, here you are.’ His smile returned. ‘And what do you do for a job? Or are you studying?’

  ‘I never was much one for the books. Well, I love reading them, obviously—can’t grow up in a bookshop without becoming a bookworm—but I like flowers even more than I like books. So I became a florist.’

  ‘That’s cool!’

  She raised one eyebrow. ‘You like flowers?’ In her experience most men just saw them as a means to an end.

  ‘Of course I do. Who doesn’t like flowers? What’s your favourite?’

  ‘The Plumeria “Rosy Posy”.’ When his expression remained blank, she elaborated. ‘It’s a rare Australian flower with the most beautiful soft colours—pinks and white and yellows usually—and the petals kind of curl downwards.’

  He made a half-laugh impressed noise. ‘You learn something new every day.’

  Now she decided to test him. ‘Do you have a favourite flower?’

  He rubbed his lips together and his brow furrowed as if he were in deep contemplation. She’d put her money on the rose, tulip or lily—they were the most commonly requested flowers at the shop. ‘I can’t choose between the gerbera and the sunflower,’ he said, reaching out and gently touching one of the flowers on her dress, right in the middle of her belly. Her stomach quivered beneath his touch.

  ‘What about you? What do you do for work?’ She held up her hand. ‘No wait, let me guess.’

  He tilted his head to one side making his smile appear lopsided. ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Teacher?’ She could imagine him with a classroom of kids sitting at his feet while he read a picture book.

  ‘Nope.’