by Risk, Mona
“Don’t let it destroy you, Lou. Maybe now things will change. Monica asked for you to come and you answered her call.” Barbara squeezed his hand. “I’m sure she’ll be so relieved to see you.”
“Who knows?” His eyebrows rose in doubt and his chiseled features hardened. “With Monica you never know what to expect. I wonder if she’s going to keep the baby or put it up for adoption.”
“Not adoption.” Barbara grasped his arm. “Lou, you have to help her. We both will.” A lump grew in Barbara’s throat. “I had six kids, Lou. When my son was killed in an accident, I thought I would die. It’s too difficult for a mother to give up her child.”
“Barbara, you’re a wonderful mother. Not many compare to you.”
At the third floor, they went straight to the nurses’ station. “Nurse, please. My daughter, Monica Jackson, is here for an emergency. We just flew eight hours from Paris to get here in time. Please, we need to see her.” For the first time, since Barbara had met him, the cool-headed, organized, and methodical executive was almost begging, rather than ordering.
The nurse checked her computer. “She’s in the Labor Room. I’ll take you to see her. She hasn’t been prepped yet.”
“Prepped her for what?” Lou’s gaze flicked from the nurse to Barbara as if he was asking her to explain a situation totally new to him. “Has something gone wrong with the pregnancy?”
“Is she toxemic?” Barbara specified.
“Yes, she showed symptoms of preeclampsia, abdominal pain, high blood pressure, and protein in the urine. The doctor checked her several times during the day. He was waiting for the tests results. He’s going to deliver her right away.”
They sanitized their hands and followed the nurse to a large area with several beds occupied by pregnant patients. To think only last night, Barbara had basked in the elegant atmosphere of the historical George V Hotel and the lavish aroma of the multitude of roses decorating its lobby. The hospital hygienic smell convinced Barbara the nightmare was real.
The nurse approached the bed near the wall where a young woman lay, an IV line hooked to her arm. Her hair tucked under a white cap, she looked as pale as the white blanket covering her. Her huge belly contrasted with her narrow shoulders.
“Monica, your parents are here to see you.”
The young woman scowled. “What parents? I never had any decent ones.” She turned her head toward Lou and glared at him.
“Monica,” he started with a soft voice.
“So you came.” Her hiss belied any greeting. “I had to be almost on death bed for you to move your ass and check on me.” Her chilly look encompassed both Lou and Barbara.
Barbara’s jaw sagged, yet she abstained from any comments. In her sheltered world she’d rarely met such an aggressive young person. But Monica was Lou’s daughter, at least for the moment.
“Try to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, girl,” Lou snarled. “Mrs. Ramsay came especially to help you.”
“Another one of your bimbos?”
“How dare you?” Lou raised his hand. Barbara snatched it, afraid he might slap the girl.
“Go to hell, Lou,” Monica said. “Why would I care about you or your friends? You never cared about me.”
Tears welled in Barbara’s eyes. In spite of her bravado, that poor girl had suffered—was still suffering. Barbara pushed Lou behind her and approached the bed. “Monica, I’m a friend of your father. I have five grownup daughters and a lot of experience in childbearing. I know I can help you.”
Monica squinted at her. “True, you’re too old to be his type.”
Lou gasped but Barbara laughed. “Exactly.” The young woman’s hostility was too tangible for Barbara to try to calm her. “Lou, please leave us alone.” She turned to him and mouthed, “Or at least back up out of sight.”
“Good luck.” He snorted as he edged to the wall and stood there, where Monica couldn’t see him.
Barbara studied the oval face with high cheekbones and pouting lips. Dark lashes fringed baby-blue eyes simmering with anxiety.
“Monica, I know you went through a difficult time. Are you in pain now?”
“Not really, not like before.” The young woman peered at Barbara, studying her.
“The nurse told us they will do a c-section soon. You’ll have a beautiful baby, Monica. Nothing in the world beats the feeling of holding your own child.”
Monica’s lips pinched and her eyes filled with tears. Barbara bent and caressed her forehead. “Everything will be all right. We’re here to take care of you.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled. Big tears rolled on her face.
“Why are you crying now? The worst is over. We won’t leave you alone, I promise.” Her mother’s instinct alerted her to be cautious, yet she bent and kissed Monica’s cheek. The young woman sobbed.
“What is wrong, Monica? You can trust me, sweetheart.” Barbara kept stroking the young woman’s forehead.
“Can’t keep….” Monica’s sobs escalated and she cradled her belly.
“You will keep your baby,” Barbara reassured her.
“I can’t… I can’t.”
“You can’t or you don’t want to?” Trying to decipher the words from the sobs, Barbara bent closer to her.
“I want to…”
“Monica, sweetie, any young woman is emotional at the birth of her first child. You’ll see. Later, when you’ll expect another one you’ll be much calmer. Here have a tissue and calm down. All this emotion is not good for the baby.”
The future mommy obeyed and blew her nose, then held Barbara’s gaze for a moment.
“I’m expecting two,” she stated, her voice as mournful as if she was announcing her death penalty.
“Pardon?” Barbara’s eyes widened. Had she heard wrong?
Monica raised her index and middle fingers, a peace sign that heralded anything but peace now.
“Twins?” Good God, that really complicated things.
“Yes, twins. Two boys.” Monica threw her a challenging look.
How on Earth would a twenty-two year old raise two babies when she didn’t have any job, any income, any support? No wonder the girl was crying.
Barbara straightened and glimpsed Lou’s figure not too far behind her. She frantically wiggled her hand behind her back to keep him from interrupting.
“I understand why you’re so worried,” she gently said. “It will take a lot of work on your part and you’ll need a lot of support, but you still can take care of your babies,” she added, hoping Monica would be as determined as Roxanne to do the right thing and keep her children.
“No, I can’t keep them.” She burst into tears again and hiccupped. “They’re not mine. I’m just a surrogate mother.”
Barbara’s arms dropped to her side. Behind her, Lou growled.
Chapter Seven
Before Lou had any time to shoot his own questions, the nurse came in and wheeled the bed. “We’re ready for you, Monica.”
Like a drunken zombie, Lou followed the gurney to the big door marked DELIVERY. He’d never attended a delivery and didn’t know what to do, where to go.
“You can’t continue, sir. Only the husband is allowed in there. Parents should go to the waiting room. We’ll inform you when we have news.” The big door closed behind his daughter and future grandsons.
There was no loving husband. Only a sleazeball who’d taken advantage of his daughter’s stupidity. Rooted in place, he fisted his hands against his sides and stared at the word, DELIVERY.
His heart had somersaulted when he’d heard she was expecting twins. Two little boys. He’d always wished he could have a son. An unexpected joy had trumpeted inside him. He’d taken a step forward, ready to forgive and help for the sake of two innocent babies. And then his new hopes pummeled and crushed at Monica’s next words. A surrogate mother.
“Lou,” Barbara grabbed his arm and tugged him away. “Let’s go.” Deep in his thoughts and dejection, he let her draw him to the waiting roo
m.
“A surrogate mother,” he repeated as he slumped onto a chair. “What does it mean, Barbara? Why has she sold her body to carry other people’s children? Why has she done such a crazy thing? Why waste her figure and risk her health for strangers?” He torpedoed every question without waiting for answers.
Sitting on the sofa close by, Barbara held his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t torture yourself. Maybe she had her reasons at the time. Maybe she needed the money. She’ll have to explain.”
“I’ve never denied her money. Why?” He raked and pulled at his hair with nervous fingers. If he kept at it, he’d soon be bald.
“I don’t know. We can’t judge her without listening to her.”
“What am I supposed to do now? Surrogate!” he muttered under his breath. “You’re a woman. Tell me. What does this word entail?” Unable to remain confined in his chair, he sprang up and paced the room.
“I’m not sure myself. I read an article about it in a woman’s magazine. With artificial insemination, the male’s sperm is used to impregnate the surrogate mother by direct deposit into the female’s reproductive tract.” Her calm tone contrasted with the worried frown knitting her forehead.
Lou stopped in his tracks next to the side table and banged on it. “I hope she didn’t.” His mind revolted at the mention of the clinical words. Revulsion stirred his last meal in his stomach. “For heaven’s sake, shouldn’t a child’s creation be the product of marriage, or at least of a man and a woman’s love or attraction for each other?”
“Of course, I agree with you. I’m just telling you what I remember from the article on surrogacy. The other type is when the egg resulting from a couple’s sperm and ovule is implanted in the surrogate mother—”
“So my daughter is just a paid container? Is that what you’re saying?” Raw pain contorted his insides. “In that case, she can’t be my daughter. No daughter could ever do that to her father.”
Barbara stood and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re hurting, Lou. I hate to see you suffering so much, but let’s not judge her. She looked so pretty and vulnerable in that bed.”
“Her mother was pretty too and knew how to use her beauty to manipulate everyone. If only she’d had a tenth of your integrity and compassion,” he growled, cursing the events that had interrupted the beginning of his new relationship with Barbara.
How on Earth had sperm and insemination replaced kiss and feelings in their conversation? To think Barbara had melted in his arms the night before, and now they were discussing the subject most apt to smother any passion they felt.
Barbara gently caressed his cheek. “Lou, I was just explaining what I read. I don’t know much about the topic.”
Afraid to hold her and lose his rational mind when he needed it most, he eased away and wiped his forehead. “I feel ridiculous.” His taut voice grazed his own nerves. “As the director of an info network, I should have known the abc of these surrogacy procedures.”
He fumbled with his phone and punched a number. “Roxanne,” he bellowed. “I want a full report on surrogate mothers.”
****
Barbara jerked toward him. What did her daughter have to do with this mess? Didn’t she have her hands full at the moment with all her interviews, her official get-together at night, plus entertaining her husband and organizing her children? Like a mother hen, Barbara was about to protest.
“I know you can’t spare a minute now.” Lou’s voice lowered to a more conciliatory tone and Barbara suppressed a smile. Roxy wasn’t one to let anyone step on her toes, not even her boss.
Lou continued to bark orders. “Put one of your junior reporters on this project and ask for top priority. I want to know the procedures, legal matters, prices, with actual examples of success and failure…as soon as possible… Yes tonight or tomorrow. Thank you.”
He turned toward Barbara, calmer now that he’d done something active. “I can’t wait like a lamb for things to happen. I have to be prepared, although I don’t know for what.”
“Come let’s have a lunch at the cafeteria.” She glanced at her watch. “We have plenty of time. Twin babies don’t just pop out so easily.”
“What do you mean? Is she in any danger? Can the babies be in trouble?” The big director was really out of his league here.
No need to scare him with mention of toxemia, blue babies, jaundice, and other similar problems she’d experienced firsthand. “This clinic specialized in deliveries. I’m sure they have top-notch doctors. They’ll be fine.”
“But you said…” He almost hurt her fingers in his strong grip.
“Lou, I was just saying it takes time for babies to be born.” She’d have to watch her words. As jumpy as a live wire, her companion fidgeted with his phone.
“Maybe I should call my lawyer.”
“For what?”
“We’ll need a lawyer soon. In case, the kids are not hers and she needs to put them for adoption. Anyway, I don’t see how she can raise two of them when she couldn’t even take care of herself.”
“Wait till the babies are born. Don’t speculate now, please.”
“Sure. Let’s eat. I could use a drink too.”
She arched her eyebrows. “We’re in a hospital. We’ll have coffee.” At the cafeteria, he filled a plate with lasagna and steaks. She had a salad, and steered him to a table in front of a wide TV screen, hoping that the international news may distract him while they waited.
Lou’s head kept on swiveling toward the door. No one came.
When the special news from Europe filled the screen, Lou watched intently. “Barbara, look here is Roxanne interviewing the French First Lady.”
Her mother’s heart burst with pride. “She’s amazing isn’t she?”
“Yes, an excellent reporter. I had high hopes of Monica doing the same.”
Oh dear, nothing would cheer him up today.
“Sir, Ma’am.” Out of the blue, the nurse stood in front of them, a big smile on her face. “You have two beautiful grandsons.”
“Congratulations, Lou. You’re a grandpa.” Barbara jumped to kiss him. “I’m so happy.” Honestly she was as happy as if one of her daughters had just delivered. “Thank you, nurse. How is the mother?”
“Still in Recovery. She’ll stay here for a couple of days until we’re sure she’s feeling better and has no more signs of toxemia. The babies are in the NICU. 5.3 lbs and 4.2 lbs, a little small but healthy otherwise.”
“Can we see them?” Barbara glanced at Lou who remained stunned in place, his gaze hazy and his lips parted.
“Of course.”
After the nurse left, Barbara cast Lou an expectant glance. “Let’s go see your grandsons.”
“No. I’m going back to the hotel to have a strong drink, and wait till we talk to Monica. Be realistic, Barbara. I don’t want to have high hopes and see them crushed again.”
Disappointment filled her heart. Family and children topped her priorities.
****
Four hours later they were back at the clinic and were directed to the private room Monica occupied per Lou’s request. He’d put her on his insurance when she was a child and Jennifer had been smart enough not to interfere.
The picture of perfect motherhood that greeted them twisted a knife in Lou’s heart. Her back raised against pillows, Monica held two blue bundles, one on either side. Tears rolled on her cheeks, yet she was smiling and cooing to the newborns. “I love you, little ones. You’re mine. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
“Congratulations, Monica.” Barbara bent and kissed her forehead. “You babies are adorable.”
“I think so too.” The young woman beamed. “Thank you, Mrs. Ramsay.”
“Aren’t they precious, Lou?” Barbara nudged him with her elbow.
“Yes, very precious.” Tenderness and anger warred in his heart.
He’d love to hold the tiny bundles but Monica would never allow it. Heck, she’d never hugged him and drew back the few times he�
��d tried to kiss her when she was growing up. Eventually he gave up trying. “Who is the father, Monica?”
Her smile instantly disappeared. She glared at him and pressed the nurse’s button.
So what’s new, Lou mused. They’d never had a decent conversation. Either she cried and lamented and asked for help, or cursed and insulted and upset the hell out of him. How could she be his daughter? Years ago, he did the right thing protecting his feelings and accepting their estrangement.
The nurse arrived. “Time to take the babies.” She lifted them one after the other and laid each one in a glass bassinet. “Call me when you’re ready to sleep.”
Monica cast him a cold look, and mumbled, “Soon.”
Upset he crossed his hands behind his back and braced himself for more infuriating behavior. If she wanted him to help her, she’d better answer a few questions. “We need to talk.”
Barbara caught his gaze and blinked several times. “Easy. I’ll do it,” she mouthed, urging him to calm down. He nodded and backed up near the window, not trusting himself to keep his cool if Monica answered him with her insolent tone.
Barbara settled at the edge of the bed. “Did you choose names for your babies?”
“Not yet.” Monica’s lips quivered. “I don’t know if they’ll let me. I don’t know if they’ll come to claim the babies.” She caught Barbara’s fingers between hers. “Please, Mrs. Ramsey, can you help me keep them?” Irritation twisted Lou’s gut. Ungrateful shit. She asked a stranger, a woman she’d just met, rather than her father.
“Your dad and I will do our best for you and the babies. But we can’t do it without having some information.” Her tone firm, his wise friend stroked the young mother’s hands. “Who are these people? What are their names?”
Lou immediately opened his smart phone to type the answers.
“Ian and Sharon Morev. Sharon spent years trying to be pregnant and was dying to have a baby.”
