The Surrogate

by Judith Henry Wall

  “Lenora will go over the contract with you and answer any questions you may have,” he told Jamie. Then he stood, and the two women followed suit.

  “If I do agree to all the terms in the contract, do you think I’m the sort of person your clients are looking for?” Jamie asked.

  “I think you just may be,” Bentley said. “Just be sure in your own mind that this really is what you want to do.”

  But of course she would agree to their terms, he thought. No penniless young woman in her right mind would turn down such an offer.

  Chapter Four

  JAMIE’S HEAD WAS spinning as she followed Lenora from Mr. Abernathy’s office and sat on the sofa across from her desk. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself and mentally replayed the conversation with Mr. Abernathy while Lenora made phone calls and gave instructions to her assistant.

  One hundred thousand dollars! That was far more than had been suggested on any of the surrogate mother Web sites she’d visited. And, in addition to that, she would have an annual income for the rest of her life-not enough to live on but certainly enough to give her wonderful options as to how she would manage her life.

  Taxes would take part of the money, of course, but she could pay off her credit cards and have more than enough money to finish her undergraduate degree. And it made going to medical school not seem like a pipe dream.

  It was overwhelming. So much so, she began to tremble. She took several deep breaths and put her shaking hands between her knees to still them.

  But to earn this bonanza and get on with the rest of her life, she would have to take the better part of a year off to have a baby, she reminded herself.

  A baby.

  Even though she had done all that research online, perhaps she had not completely thought through what being a surrogate mother entailed. She touched her stomach. A baby growing inside of her that didn’t belong to her. By knowing from the very beginning that it was not hers to love and raise, she could deal with it, though. She was certain of that. After all, she didn’t want a baby of her own. Not yet. Not until she could have a baby that was conceived because she and a man loved each other and wanted to have a family together. And she was a long way from that.

  She wondered what Mr. Abernathy thought of her-of a woman willing to have a baby for strangers. Was he appalled that a seemingly decent young woman would even consider such a thing? Jamie found the idea of surrogate motherhood rather appealing, however. It seemed like a beautiful thing to do for a childless couple. She’d read on one of the Web sites that some women even volunteer to be surrogate mothers for free. They like being pregnant and having babies. Some of them even have lifelong relationships with the parents and the child.

  Of course that wasn’t going to be the case if she carried a baby for Mr. Abernathy’s clients. They would never want to see their child’s surrogate mother again after the baby was born, which might be better for all concerned. How confusing it would be for a child to have two mothers.

  But what about all those other stipulations to which she would have to agree? Was not having to mortgage her future in order to complete her education worth becoming a virtual prisoner for up to a year of her life?

  Then she thought how glorious it would be to attend the university without having to hold down a job and worry about money all the time.

  She watched Lenora put a sheaf of papers in her briefcase and take her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. Jamie followed her out of the office. On the elevator ride to the underground garage, Jamie dug around in her purse for a tissue.

  “Are you all right?” Lenora asked.

  Jamie blew her nose. “Just a bit overwhelmed,” she admitted.

  “What you need is a nice lunch at the Driskill Grill,” Lenora said. “Then we are going to have manicures and pedicures on the boss’s dollar before we settle down for the afternoon in your hotel room to go over this contract.”

  Her grandmother’s Chevrolet, packed with all of Jamie’s possessions, was parked across from Lenora’s late-model BMW. Jamie followed Lenora as she navigated her way through the midday downtown traffic.

  She parked behind Lenora in front of the entrance to the historic hotel, which made Jamie think of a huge, overdecorated wedding cake. A young man in livery came hurrying over to open her door.

  “You know, it wasn’t so many years ago that a black person would have had to enter from the rear-and then only if he or she was employed by the hotel,” Lenora mused as they walked through the lavishly decorated lobby with marble floors and soaring columns. “My grandmother worked here as a chambermaid back in the fifties. I bring her here every year on her birthday. She wears her best church hat and white gloves and carries herself like a queen.” Lenora paused, and then added, “Your grandmother raised you, didn’t she?”

  Jamie nodded, thinking how wonderful it would have been to bring Granny to a place like this.

  The restaurant, with its paneled walls and ceiling, was more sedate than the lobby. The other diners were dressed like Lenora-in smart outfits and expensive shoes. Jamie self-consciously crossed her feet, which were shod in twelve-dollar sandals from Wal-Mart, and shoved them under the table.

  She envied Lenora, who exuded self-confidence. And for good reason. With her hair pulled sleekly back in a tight chignon, perfectly fitting suit, velvety brown skin, flawless makeup, bare silky legs, and obviously expensive sling-back pumps, she looked like a professional model. Or a successful executive. Jamie wondered if Lenora had ever driven around on bald tires or wondered where her next meal was coming from.

  Jamie had no expectations of ever being rich. It would be nice, however, not to be poor.

  A waiter brought them goblets of water and placed a breadbasket between them.

  “Are there lots of other candidates for this…this position?” Jamie asked.

  “I am not at liberty to say.”

  “Have you taken any other candidates to lunch at the Driskill?”

  Lenora smiled. “No, I haven’t.”

  Jamie nodded knowingly. “Mr. Abernathy seemed to think that his clients would like me.”

  “Well, then, you must think this through and decide if being a surrogate mother is something you would always regret or something you could look back on with satisfaction.”

  “Do you know the clients?”

  Lenora shook her head. “Not really. In the three years I’ve been with Bentley Abernathy, the woman has come to the office only once. Bentley has known her and her brother for years, however. They are quite wealthy, as I am sure you already realize. The woman lost her only child in an accident and apparently can no longer have children, and she recently married a younger man who has never had children.”

  “And this woman and her husband really want this baby more than anything?” Jamie asked.

  “I think you can assume that a baby is a high priority for them,” Lenora said. “Why else would they go to all this trouble?”

  Jamie thought how only people who were well off financially could afford to hire a surrogate mother, which was unfair, of course. But she had figured out a long time ago that life was not about fairness. It was about making the best of what came one’s way. While her grandmother was dying, she decided that she was not going to wait for life to come to her; she was going to go use what few assets she had and meet it on her own terms. Which was why the surrogate-mother idea appealed to her in the first place.

  “What you need to do is read the contract and do the arithmetic,” Lenora said. “Determine just how meaningful the money would be in your life. Then have the medical workup and meet with the couple. You can walk away at any point up until you sign the agreement. And-as I am sure Bentley explained-even though some surrogate mothers do change their minds and decide to keep their baby, that could turn out to be one very bad decision. In fact, you must not even entertain such a notion. You must think of the terms of this contract as being cast in stone.”

  Jamie sighed. “I keep wonder
ing what my grandmother would think.”

  Lenora placed her hand on top of Jamie’s. “Our grandmothers grew up in a different time. This is a decision for a young woman of this time.”

  Jamie stared down at Lenora’s hand resting on top of hers-a beautiful hand with long, tapered fingers. It felt nice to be touched by another human being.

  She had slept in her car last night because she had no cash and didn’t dare try to use one of her maxed-out credit cards for a motel room. Every time she thought about her credit-card debt, she felt as though she were sinking in a sea of quicksand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her car serviced, and she desperately wanted to put a headstone on her grandmother’s grave. Such thoughts made the decision seem like a no-brainer.

  Lenora picked up a menu. “I recommend the poached salmon and steamed vegetables if you’re counting calories and the fried catfish and hush puppies if you aren’t. And save some room for dessert.”

  After a visit to a nail salon, they followed a bellhop carrying Jamie’s one small suitcase to her fourth-floor room.

  “Oh, my,” Jamie gasped as she took in the huge bed and elegant decor. “What a beautiful room.”

  Lenora tipped the bellman, ordered coffee from room service, then took the contract from her briefcase and placed it on the round table in front of the window. “Might as well get this over with,” she said.

  At times the legalese seemed incomprehensible, but Lenora was patient and explained every clause thoroughly. The document attempted to cover every possible contingency, but at its core things were pretty much as Mr. Abernathy had explained in his office.

  “I want to emphasize that if you violate any terms of this contract, you will be liable for every cent of the money you have been paid for your services,” Lenora said as she put the contract back in her briefcase. “And I can’t stress strongly enough how serious these clients are about the privacy issue. If you sign this contract, you must never reveal any information about it or the couple’s identity to anyone. You must not even hint to anyone where you are going and what you are doing. You cannot have visitors or contact anyone in the outside world while you are living at the ranch, which means you will not be allowed to make phone calls or have access to a computer. If there’s anyone who will be alarmed by your disappearance, you need to think of a cover story and inform them you will be studying abroad or volunteering in a Third World country or something of the sort. You must make sure that no one will be reporting you to the police as a missing person or hiring a private detective to track you down.”

  “I’m pretty much alone in the world at this point in my life, so I can’t imagine anything like that happening,” Jamie said. “But isn’t all that a little excessive?”

  “It may seem so to you or me, but I am sure the clients have their reasons. You have to understand that privacy is often a major issue with the very rich. I’m sure these particular rich people worry about someone learning the identity of the child’s biological mother and somehow exploiting that information,” Lenora said as she leaned back in her chair.

  “But if I do enter into a contract with ‘the clients,’ I’ll need some sort of address in order to open a bank account, and I’d like to enroll in a correspondence course,” Jamie pointed out.

  “With your banking needs in mind, the clients plan to rent a post-office box for you here in Austin and have your mail forwarded to the ranch by a third party.”

  “That sounds like something out of a spy movie,” Jamie said in disbelief.

  “Perhaps,” Lenora allowed. “But I think these people just want to be very, very careful. They are investing a lot of money and a world of emotion into this project. They want to do everything within their power to assure its success. I can’t imagine them objecting to your enrolling in a correspondence course, but just to be sure I’ll have Bentley mention it to them. Now, do you have any other questions?”

  Jamie shook her head. “No, you’ve made everything quite clear. You should go to law school.”

  “I already do. Three nights a week, thanks to Bentley Abernathy’s encouragement and financial backing. In two more years, provided I pass the bar, I will become his partner.” Lenora leaned back in her chair. “So, tell me, Jamie Long, should I arrange for you to have a physical examination tomorrow?”

  “Can you do that on such short notice?”

  Lenora nodded. “You might as well go ahead and have the exam. The office will pay for it-and bill it to the clients, of course. Then, if you’re certified healthy, you’ll be examined by the fertility specialist who will be doing the insemination procedure. If you get the nod from her, I’ll arrange for you to meet the clients. There won’t be any contract signing until everyone is in agreement. In the meantime, you can stay here in the hotel and charge food and sundries to the room until all parties have made up their minds. If I were you, I’d enjoy a bit of luxury and not stew over things until all the cards are on the table. So what do you think? Should I schedule the exam?”

  Jamie nodded.

  Lenora reached for the phone and made arrangements for Jamie’s physical examination, reading a long list of medical tests that she was to undergo. At the conclusion of the call, she closed her briefcase and stood. “I’ll pick you up in the morning at nine,” she told Jamie.

  Jamie was sorry to see her leave, sorry to be alone again.

  After eating a solitary meal in her room, she undressed and took a long hot bath in the luxurious bathroom. And tried to do what Lenora had suggested-not think about it until all considerations were known.

  When she got out of the tub, Jamie looked at her body in the mirror and tried to imagine herself pregnant. Then she tried to look at her body through the eyes of another person. A man. Would he find her pleasing? Would he want to make love to her?

  Maybe after she had the hundred-thousand-dollar baby she would be flabby and have stretch marks. Maybe her breasts would droop.

  But just the thought of a man looking at her naked body made her feel flushed and light-headed. She touched her breasts and felt warm, mysterious stirrings deep inside her belly. It felt as though her body were waiting for something. Not a baby. Something else altogether.

  In this day and age, it was almost weird to be a virgin at age twenty. But that was what she was. A virgin who was willing to rent out her womb to the highest bidder. Who was about to sell a year of her life because she was poor and tired-so tired, with a weariness that seemed to flow through her veins and sap her very soul.

  Chapter Five

  LENORA ENTERED BENTLEY’S office carrying two cups of coffee. She handed him one and seated herself on the sofa.

  “How did it go this morning?” he asked.

  “We don’t have the results of the lab tests yet, but the doctor found no problems during Jamie’s physical examination. In fact, he said she seems exceptionally healthy. I’ve scheduled an appointment with the fertility specialist for tomorrow afternoon.”

  Lenora paused and took a sip of coffee before adding, “She’s a virgin.”

  Bentley digested this last fact. Somehow he would have preferred otherwise, although he would be hard-pressed to explain why. Amanda Hartmann originally had insisted the surrogate be “chaste.” Bentley had pointed out that such a requirement would severely limit the pool of possible candidates since most young women were sexually active by the time they were old enough to enter into a surrogate-mother arrangement, but it was her husband Toby who had convinced Amanda to keep an open mind. “Every baby is born pure in the eyes of our Lord,” he assured his wife. “And we have entered into a special covenant with Him. It is Him we serve.”

  Amanda touched her husband’s face. “Sometimes the disciple teaches the master,” she had said with an adoring smile.

  But now, it would seem that Amanda was going to get her wish. A virgin would bear a child to carry out their “special covenant.”

  Which was nonsense, of course. Bentley told himself. It wasn’t as though he were
a high priest sacrificing a virgin to appease the gods.

  Or was it?

  Bentley cleared his throat. “So, after spending all this time with Miss Long, what do you think of her?” he asked Lenora.

  “I think she is sincere, honest, intelligent, lonely, and desperate,” Lenora said without hesitation.

  Bentley took a sip of coffee before asking, “Do you think she is emotionally capable of coming through this arrangement unscathed?”

  Lenora shrugged. “I suspect that no woman goes through a pregnancy without being changed in some profound way-whether she keeps the kid or gives it away. But I think Jamie is resilient enough to resume her life afterward.” Lenora paused before adding, “I do find myself wishing, however, that there was some other way for her to solve her financial problems.”

  Bentley absently stared out the window thinking of his own spoiled daughter who had never earned a dime in her life yet had such a sense of entitlement about money and the things it could buy. His sons, too. He sometimes wondered if he had done the lot of them any favors by never insisting they get a job and at least buy their own vehicles.

  “Jamie asked me what sort of people ‘the clients’ were,” Lenora said.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That I’ve only met the woman once, which is the truth. Of course, I have handled countless phone calls from Amanda Hartmann and have found her to be unfailingly cordial and charming. She always remembers my name and seems to sincerely care about me as a human being, which I find quite flattering. She is, after all, a very famous person. Of course, I resent the hell out of people who want to do away with the separation of church and state-and that includes Amanda Tutt Hartmann. But it is hard to be angry with a woman who has been through what she has. So if she and her new husband want a kid and this is the way they want to go about it, I hope it works out for them.”