The Surrogate

by Henry Wall Judith

She imagined herself telling Miss Montgomery that she had decided to leave. Now. This very afternoon. After all, the housekeeper had no legal jurisdiction over her. She couldn’t lock her up in the tower and chain her to a bed until she delivered the child.

  Except that was exactly what Jamie was afraid of.

  Just have the baby and leave, she told herself once again as she arrived at the security gate. Ralph darted under it and stood waiting on the opposite side. Lester slowed as he approached and pointed the opener at the gate.

  As soon as the gate had swung open a few feet, Jamie strode through. When she reached the portico, she climbed the steps and went inside without bothering to wave at Lester.

  It was well past lunchtime. Her tray would be waiting for her. But instead of returning to her apartment, she marched down the corridor to Miss Montgomery’s apartment, where the housekeeper usually spent the early part of the afternoon.

  Jamie knocked on the door and waited.

  The housekeeper opened the door. Jamie could hear the voices of soap-opera characters dealing with their daily allotment of crises.

  “What is it, Jamie?” Miss Montgomery asked in a reasonably pleasant tone.

  “How will I be paid after the baby is born?”

  Miss Montgomery frowned. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I need to know,” Jamie demanded. “I want it taken care of as soon as the baby is born. I don’t plan to stay very long afterward.”

  “I will inquire and let you know,” Miss Montgomery said, already pushing the door closed.

  Jamie put her hand on the door. “And I want my car brought back over here. I want to start packing things and loading them into the car.”

  “Isn’t it a little early for that?” the housekeeper asked.

  “I want to be ready to leave when the time comes.”

  “I will see if that is possible,” Miss Montgomery said.

  Jamie shook her head. “I want the car brought over here this afternoon,” she said, making her point by carefully enunciating each word.

  Miss Montgomery’s eyes narrowed.

  “I would like to know about the money by tomorrow,” Jamie continued. “I want it wired to my bank in Austin as soon as I give birth, and I need official documentation that arrangements have been made for the payment and also for the annual stipend I am to receive.”

  “I will see what I can do,” the housekeeper said curtly.

  Jamie turned and headed back down the hallway, Ralph hurrying along behind her. She waited until she was halfway up the back stairs before allowing herself to breathe.

  As she ate her lunch, she went over her conversation with the housekeeper. Maybe Miss Montgomery didn’t know how or when Jamie would be paid because no arrangements had yet been made. Maybe arrangements were never going to be made.

  And what if Amanda wasn’t pregnant at all?

  “Stop it!” Jamie yelled at herself.

  Ralph jerked awake and began whimpering. Jamie opened her arms, and he jumped up beside her on the sofa then crawled onto what was left of her lap. She put her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. “Everything’s okay,” she lied. “We’ll always be together, you and me. I’ll always take care of you.”

  Once she had terminated the conversation with Jamie, Ann Montgomery went back to her soap opera. But even though her favorite character was trapped in an abandoned mine shaft, she found herself wondering if she should call Gus and tell him about Jamie’s demands.

  Gus depended on her to manage things, though. She decided that she would call Amanda instead, and tell her to call the girl and reassure her about the money. As for the business about the car, she would stall Jamie along for a time. After all, it was a very old car and could plausibly have all sorts of mechanical ills. That decided, she gave herself over to the life-or-death situation being played out on the television screen. The mine shaft was filling with water. And Pamela was losing consciousness.

  Chapter Twenty

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Miss Montgomery called Jamie to report that the mechanics at the motor pool had not been able to get her car started. The fuel pump needed to be replaced. A replacement had been ordered from Amarillo, but it would be several days before it would arrive—perhaps longer what with a winter storm on the way.

  It began snowing that evening. The weather reporter on the evening news warned that both the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles could expect blizzard conditions. Jamie groaned. “Looks like there will be no walks for us tomorrow,” she told Ralph.

  By the following evening, the drifts on the north side of the house had buried the back door. Miss Montgomery escorted Jamie and Ralph on brief forays in front of the house. The housekeeper would wait on the top step while Jamie—fighting the wind with every step—walked the dog down the driveway and back. “Like she thinks I’m going to run off in a snowstorm,” Jamie would mutter under her breath.

  After one of the outings, Jamie asked the housekeeper if she’d found out about the money.

  “Amanda said that she would call you and explain about the arrangements,” Miss Montgomery said.

  “I want something in writing,” Jamie said. “And I want it signed and notarized.”

  The snow continued off and on for three days, and even when it was not actually snowing, daylight was reduced to a flat gunmetal gray. The snowdrifts on the north side of the ranch house were so high that the first-floor windows were completely covered. Even though the furnace continued to function, Jamie wore her coat all day long and wore long johns day and night. There would be no mail deliveries, she realized. No fuel pump for her car.

  She waited until a thaw had set in before asking Miss Montgomery if the repairs had been made.

  “It’s such an old car,” Miss Montgomery said. “The head mechanic said he hasn’t been able to locate the right part.”

  Jamie thought of all those afternoons helping Joe work on his Jeep and Granny’s Chevy. She wasn’t an ignoramus when it came to cars. The small-block V-8 engine used in Chevys of that era was probably the most popular engine in automotive history. A fuel pump for such an engine would be quite easy to locate in a city the size of Amarillo.

  But she said nothing.

  That night she made sure her set of car keys was still under the lining in her grandmother’s sewing stand. They were—along with her stash of cash, ATM card, grandmother’s ring, and the remote-control gate opener she had taken from Lester’s truck.

  She put the ring on her finger for a minute and admired it. Someday maybe she would wear it on a special date with a nice normal boy. But would she ever be a nice normal girl? The “nice” part she could handle, but would she ever feel normal again?

  She put the ring back in its hiding place and returned to the bed, which had grown icy-cold in her absence. It was stupid to worry about what some imaginary boy would think of her, she told herself as she tried to find a position of maximum warmth and ease for her pregnant body.

  First she had to assure herself that she had a future to worry about.

  Miss Montgomery had lied to her. Obviously the housekeeper didn’t want her anyplace near the car. But why? Did she think that in spite of all the surveillance and the security gates Jamie was going to run away?

  Not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. She had, after all, intentionally hidden a spare set of keys to her car and the remote gate opener that she had taken from Lester’s truck. And she had memorized the access code for the ranch-house alarm system.

  But she had done those things just in case…

  In case what?

  In case she decided it was not in her best interest or that of the baby to honor the contract she had signed.

  If indeed, as doddering old Mary Millicent had insisted, Amanda’s dead son was the father of the child Jamie carried, and if Amanda planned to raise this child as her own natural-born offspring, then she might very well worry that the biological mother of the child could present a threat. Amanda’s life would certainly b
e tidier and more comfortable if the baby’s birth mother ceased to exist.

  And even if Amanda herself did not harbor such thoughts, her brother might. And if Jamie were to believe Mary Millicent, Gus Hartmann had the power to do anything he wanted and never pay the piper. If that were true, would he really allow her to drive away in her old Chevy?

  And there was the other consideration. The most important one of all. What was her responsibility to this baby?

  Jamie put her hands on her stomach and thought of how her grandmother, as a woman well past seventy, had taken in a seven-year-old child. Granny had done that because it was the right thing to do.

  The next morning, Jamie called the security office for an escort, explaining that she wanted to take a walk and stop at Hartmann City on the way back.

  A burly, middle-aged man named Hugh picked her up, explaining that Lester had the day off.

  Jamie headed down the driveway. Ralph was ecstatic and took off at a dead run. Even though the temperature was above freezing, the biting wind cut right through her. Still she struggled on for fifteen more minutes before waving at Hugh.

  She opened the door, and Ralph jumped inside. “Dogs ’posed to ride in the back,” Hugh said.

  “Not my dog,” Jamie said as she got in. “I’m ready to go to Hartmann City now.”

  When Hugh stopped the truck in front of the ranch store, Jamie told him that she would be at least an hour. Maybe he should return for her later.

  Amazingly Hugh didn’t object. Apparently no one had briefed him as to the limited extent of Jamie’s privileges.

  “What about the dog?” he asked.

  She reached in her pocket and pulled out a leash. “He’ll be fine.”

  With Ralph at her side, she walked into the store and bought a small coffee. At noon, men began drifting into the store, buying sandwiches and soft drinks and congregating on the wooden benches grouped around a pot-bellied stove. Jamie meandered around the store for a few minutes before leaving through the side door.

  The front office of the motor pool was empty. Ralph followed her as she walked the length of the building, past vehicles in various states of repair, smiling and nodding at two mechanics working on the motor of a John Deere tractor, making her way to the back corner where her Chevy resided. On blocks.

  The car was covered with a thick layer of West Texas dust.

  Jamie turned on the lamp and knelt beside the old woman’s bed. “Mary Millicent, it’s Jamie,” she said.

  “I don’t know anyone named Jamie,” Mary Millicent said without opening her eyes.

  “Jamie, the girl from downstairs.”

  Mary Millicent’s eyes fluttered open. “You had the baby yet?”

  “Not for six more weeks. Has Amanda said anything to you about the baby?”

  “She told me it’s Sonny’s baby. A baby boy. She’s going to let me hold it if I behave myself. I want to hold a baby again. I love babies.”

  “Tell me what else Amanda said.”

  “She said that it was all God’s plan. The baby is God’s chosen. She said that maybe the baby will pray for me and get me into heaven after all. I wonder if my husband still loves me. He never knew that I fooled around on him. God wouldn’t tell, would he?”

  “No, I’m sure that God will keep your secret,” Jamie said. “Did Amanda say what would happen to me after the baby is born?”

  “I asked her that very thing, and she said that you were Gus’s problem and none of her concern.”

  “And how would Gus handle this ‘problem’?” Jamie persisted.

  Mary Millicent tilted her chin back, took her index finger, and swiped it across her throat.

  Jamie scrambled to her feet. “But Amanda is a good person. She wouldn’t let something like that happen.”

  “It’s easy to be ‘good’ when you have someone do your dirty work for you,” Mary Millicent said with a giggle. “When her new puppy chewed up her favorite doll, Gus hung it by its neck from the second-floor gallery. Amanda had a wonderful time putting on a funeral out in the backyard. She made a floral wreath and wore her favorite dress and sang her favorite hymns and even shed a few tears.”

  Jamie backed away from the bed.

  “Hey, where are you going, girl?” Mary Millicent demanded. “I’m not through talking yet.”

  Jamie turned and hurried across the room, with Mary Millicent yelling for her to stop. With her heart pounding, she hurried down the stairs—for the last time, she promised herself.

  Back in her apartment, she calmed herself by hugging Ralph. She still didn’t know anything for sure. Except for one thing. She was going to leave this place and have the baby someplace else. Someplace where she felt safe. And then she would find an attorney to help her untangle the mess she had gotten herself into. But not just any attorney. She would go to a public library and use a computer to track down Joe Brammer. If he didn’t want to represent her, he would help her find someone else. Someone she could trust.

  Her decision made, Jamie felt as though a world had been lifted from her shoulders.

  Except that she had to get herself off this ranch. And that would take planning. Careful planning.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  GUS WAS JUST heartbeats short of ejaculating when he realized that Felipe was knocking on the door.

  The door opened just the tiniest crack, and Felipe announced that Gus had a phone call.

  “Shit!” Gus muttered. Something must be terribly wrong for Felipe to interrupt. But he would have his pleasure before dealing with whatever it was.

  “Quickly,” he told the woman, rolling onto his back.

  Suzette was her name. She crouched beside him and within half a minute Gus’s body shuddered its way to a climax. Then he pushed her away and told her to leave.

  She regarded him for a heartbeat or two with her huge dark eyes before grabbing her clothes and racing toward the door.

  Gus clutched a pillow to his chest, allowing himself a moment for the aftermath of the orgasm to subside. He took a deep breath and willed his racing heart to slow down. “Damn,” he muttered. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

  Beautiful Suzette. She was like something out of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting, with those eyes and her masses of dark curls, pouty mouth, lily-white flesh, black garter belt, and even an authentic French accent. The last time he had asked her to stay with him for a time. And they had talked about French cinema. She was quite knowledgeable.

  This time he had planned to have her stay the night. She had sung French cabaret songs for him and made a production of taking off her clothes. He had pulled her to the bed and kissed her all over.

  But the mood had been destroyed. And probably it was just as well. He liked her too much.

  And suddenly tears sprung to his eyes. It was one of those moments when he would have gladly given all his worldly goods just to be normal.

  When he was twelve years old, he had asked the endocrinologist in Zurich to promise him that if he ever had children, they would not be dwarfs. The doctor had refused to make such a promise.

  Gus had undergone a vasectomy when he was seventeen. By then he knew that he was as tall as he was ever going to be and that his ugly, disproportioned body would be his for life. With his family’s vast wealth, he realized there would be women willing to marry him, but no woman was ever going to love him. He had kept a succession of mistresses, each for a shorter period of time than her predecessor, until he decided to end the practice. For several years now, Felipe—who had served as Gus’s bodyguard/valet since his prep-school days—arranged his sex life for him, booking both the hotel suite and the woman, always in the middle of the night, when it was easier for Gus to slip in and out back entrances unobserved. Because of his short stature, Gus preferred to be in bed when the woman arrived. Nothing pleasured Gus more than watching a beautiful, long-legged woman pleasure him, especially if she was skillful at prolonging the process. He preferred never to have the same woman twice but on occasion broke his own rule. Th
is was Suzette’s fourth time.

  Felipe brought his cell phone. “The ranch,” he said.

  Gus called Montgomery’s private line.

  “Jamie Long is gone,” she said in a near-hysterical voice as soon as she answered the phone.

  “Gone?”

  “Oh, Gus, I am so dreadfully sorry,” she moaned. “The security office called to say that the front gate had been opened. I went immediately to Jamie’s apartment. She’s gone, Gus,” she said, her voice breaking. “Packed up and gone.”

  “On foot?” Gus asked.

  “No, in her car,” Montgomery admitted, her words interspersed with gasping sobs.

  “Okay, Montgomery, take a deep breath and calm down,” Gus said.

  He could hear her sniffling a bit and drawing in her breath. “That’s good,” he said. “Now, how did the girl get access to her car?”

  “She demanded that it be brought over here so she could start putting her possessions in it. She said she wanted to be ready to leave here as soon as possible after the baby was born. At first I told her that the car wasn’t in running condition and a part had to be ordered for it. Then I stalled for more time, telling her it was hard to find parts for a car that old. But she went to the motor pool and saw the car up on blocks and covered with dust and realized that no one had touched it in months. She told me that she was going on a hunger strike and wouldn’t eat a morsel of food until the car was up and running and parked out back. I didn’t know she had an extra key to the car,” she moaned, the sobs beginning again. “I’d gone over her apartment with a fine-tooth comb. Not just when you told me to take her copy of the contract. I went through it several times. Every inch of it. And there were no keys. Not a one. I swear there weren’t. I would have taken them if there were.”

  “Well, obviously, the girl got the car started some way,” he said, his tone hard and flat.

  There were several seconds of silence before Montgomery said, “Yes. Of course, she did.” Her voice was calmer now. Almost too calm. “I am so sorry, Gus. I have failed you and our darling Amanda. And Sonny. I have failed you all, and I want to die. I just want to die.”