The Clone's Mother

by Cheri Gillard

  I found myself standing in front of Mack’s door before I took the time to decide if I was doing the right thing. My left hand lifted and rang the bell before the other hand could even slap it back to the safety of anonymity in the shadows. After the echo of the chime died away, the door swung aside and there stood Mack.

  The stern crease between his brows melted when he saw me at the door.

  “I didn’t know you were coming.” He combed his fingers through his hair.

  “Me neither,” I said and shrugged.

  He let me come in this time. I walked into his living room, stood among his furniture, and tried to catch my breath.

  “We need to talk,” we said in unison. He smiled. I tried.

  “Well, at least we agree on one thing,” he said.

  I tried again to smile back, but it was hard with all the accusations I had against him that were bouncing around inside my skull.

  He sat in one of his two black leather wingbacks and gestured for me to do so too, and looked at me expectantly, like I got the first turn.

  “I’ve been doing some research, and I’ve found out a few things.”

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look terribly nervous yet.

  “I know Carl’s son and daughter were killed in an accident. I know he’s been trying to clone them, using his infertility patients as surrogates. When Nikki showed up having a baby, he realized that was because he’d transferred the cloned embryos of his kids into her. But when I wouldn’t tell him where she was, he got some thug to break into Howard’s office and steal his files. Then he started kidnapping every baby Howard helped adopt out, looking for Nikki’s kid. Does this ring any bells?”

  Mack’s eyes were open so far I thought his eyeballs might fall out.

  “This shocks you?” I asked. The problem was, I couldn’t tell if his reaction was genuine surprise or authentic panic.

  He rubbed his hand across his face, like he did when I’d pushed him too far.

  “Want to let me in on what you’re thinking?” I asked.

  He took a while to answer.

  “Carl always gave me the cells to use to extract the DNA. He never had me draw the blood. There would be nothing to stop him from giving me a sample from the same donor every time. And when he wanted me to find Nichole Trent’s baby for him, I thought he was so determined just because she might have been our first success. But I can see how his obsession might have been because he believed she was a clone of Zoe.

  “And that cockamamie story he gave me about mixing up samples when I did the testing for the grandfather. He’s been inconsistent too many times. Denying we even did cloning. He knows good and well we both were doing it.”

  “And were you involved with him on the kidnappings too?” I boldly asked.

  Mack snorted. “Carl is a lot of things, but you can’t convince me he’d stoop to that. I’ve known him a long time.”

  “So you didn’t help him?”

  “Help him?” Mack coughed out an awkward laugh. “He didn’t even do it, so how could I have helped him?”

  “What about the night you were late for dinner? Did you break into my apartment?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “You never said why you were late.”

  The warmth left his eyes. “Something came up. Personal.”

  I knew I’d better stop. I could feel he didn’t like my pushing. For now, I’d take the focus off Mack.

  “I know Carl is behind this. He’s snatching Howard’s babies until he finds Nikki’s. That’s why I told my cousin to take their baby away and hide her someplace else. It makes sense. It really does.”

  “Okay, let’s just explore your idea a second. And I only say this to help you see how crazy this is. Hypothetically, if Carl is cloning his own kids, why would that even benefit him? If someone else has his kids, thinking they were their own, how would he ever get them for himself? He couldn’t possibly think he’d go around kidnapping whoever had success.”

  “I dunno. Maybe he just wanted to give them a chance to live. Maybe when it turned out to be a poor, single messed up kid who was the mom and had the success, he came up with the plan to kidnap, that he realized he might actually be able to have her for himself.”

  “You have an incredible imagination.” He relaxed, even smiled. Well, almost. “Carl had nothing to do with murder or kidnapping. You saw the guy yourself who killed Howard. Some punk who was probably looking for drug money at the first place he could break in. And the kidnappings just came at an inopportune time, leaving you nervous and paranoid.”

  If he hadn’t said that with such a gentle voice, I guess I could have been insulted. But instead, I was drawn to him, both by his caring look, and the two hands he extended toward me.

  “Come here,” he said. “You’ve been under enormous strain. No wonder you have had all these things jumbling around in your mind.”

  I let him pull me onto his lap.

  “I think you’re right on target about the clone thing, but believe me, Carl isn’t a kidnapper. Let that one go right on out of that creative mind of yours.”

  He brushed back the hair over my ear and stroked my neck with his thumb while he held me firmly against his perfectly formed physique. If he kept that up, he could have probably convinced me Hannibal Lecter was just a misunderstood loner who would make a wonderful day-care worker.

  “So you mean I shouldn’t go to Lieutenant Fosdick about this?” I asked in a dreamy voice as I rested my cheek against his sculpted pec.

  “No, you shouldn’t go to Lieutenant Fosdick,” he said with a parental, quiet laugh. “There is nothing to tell the detective about anyway.” He chuckled again. “You sent your cousin into hiding because you thought Carl was going to abduct the baby?”

  “Well…” My voice was drifting into a weak, slow croon as the essence of Mack embraced me. I had to chuckle too, remembering the scene I caused in the middle of the night with Joe and Anna. How silly I was.

  “Your theory is going to cost your cousin a lot of money. Hotels aren’t cheap.”

  “No, she’s at her in-laws’ condo in Evanston. It won’t be a problem.” He smelled so good. The feeling of his hand stroking me was magnified so that it was almost all I could notice.

  “You shouldn’t waste another ounce of energy worrying about this. You’ve done that far too much already. Obviously. Poor thing.”

  “What about Nikki?” I asked sleepily. “Wouldn’t she press charges…if she knew everything?” He felt so good.

  “She might. Do you know where she is? Is there any way to get in touch with her?” He continued to stroke my back, circling his palm between my shoulder blades.

  Through the fog, I realized that in fact, I didn’t know how to get a hold of her. Her grandmother had told me Nikki packed up what she could carry and moved out, and they didn’t know where she was.

  “She’s gone,” I managed to get out. “They don’t know…where she…”

  Mack lifted my chin to tilt my lips up to him and he kissed me—the softest, most gentle kiss a man had ever given me. His lips were like warm butter and they just melted into mine, which were like brown sugar, ready to meld with his in some glorious concoction. My happy-gauge was soaring to cloud nine.

  After the kiss, he smiled at me and I grinned back. Resting in his arms and feeling safe made my happy-level head for the moon. It was the first time I’d ever gotten so far in a relationship. I’d always found a reason to bail before. I sat there grinning like a monkey, acting like a goofy schoolgirl, swooning, reveling in the comfort. And in the joy that I hadn’t needed to run.

  “Would you come with me to the hospital celebration?” his dark honey voice said.

  Incredible. He was asking me, not his Gorgeous Greek Goddess woman to the ball the hospital was putting on for its 125th anniversary fundraiser. Word was the dinner was running $500 a plate.

  “I’d love that,” I said. My happy-level soared right past the moon, into outer space.
>
  “I’d love that too.” He watched me a moment, or I should say, gazed into my eyes. So romantic, this hunk. “I love your eyes,” he said. “They’re beautiful. Green like I’ve never seen. So bright and full of life. Bright Eyes.”

  Yup, I was swooning. Green. Go figure. I’d always thought they were hazel. Certainly not beautiful.

  But if he said so….

  I looked up at him, preparing to receive another one of his tender kisses—and his phone rang. He looked at me apologetically so I got out of his lap to let him answer it.

  He talked for a minute, nodding and “hmm-hmming” a lot, then he hung up and looked at me with regret.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go out for a while. Do you want me to drive you home first, or call you a cab?”

  I hoped my brave, friable expression didn’t quiver as I attempted to look casual and relaxed. I really didn’t want him to know that my happy-level had just crashed and burned. I managed somehow to swallow the ball of fire in my throat and squeak out, “No, thanks. I like taking the bus. I’ll be off, then. Talk to you later.”

  I turned and ducked out before he could see that my fragile smile had shattered. Once I was out of view, I slowed down and trudged my way to the bus stop, trying not to let any tears spill. The chilling air helped freeze-dry the tear ducts. I found a Tums in my pocket and popped it into my mouth.

  I hated myself for letting him do that to me, but I hated myself more for not being special enough to keep his attention. Or strong enough to take his indifference.

  It was all a jumble of confusion inside my head. Had he mistreated me or was I being a wuss? Was he a jerk or was I too pushy? Maybe I shouldn’t have accused him. Or perhaps I should have threatened to tell Fosdick all I knew. Maybe I was justifying what he did just so I wouldn’t get too hurt.

  Was I falling back into the old habits I’d had growing up, taking care of abusive people, protecting loved-ones who’d be better off getting found out? And where was forgiveness supposed to fit into that? Those people didn’t deserve forgiveness. They’d ruined my childhood and I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t fall into that trap again. I promised myself I’d never again help cover up for someone who’d hurt me.

  But when I’d made that promise, I hadn’t planned on falling in love with one of them, either.

  Chapter 25

  I woke up pretty grumpy the next morning. Sleep had been lousy and the thoughts I’d tried to face the night before didn’t sit well. Outside my open window, the skies were gray and the clouds looked like canvas bags bulging with water. They were dying to dump cold, wet rain on me. A deluge would start any second. Through the screen, the petrichor wafted in, distracting me from my troubles. The thick, wet smell was delicious.

  I shut the window and turned to find Ollie watching me. Loyal, loving Ollie. Normally, I would tell him about my disappointment at having my romantic evening jerked out of my hands by a mysterious telephone call. But I didn’t want to spend any more time fretting about ugly truths.

  So I tried to put it all behind me with some chocolate milk. My norm was to eat all the comfort food any PMSing, bloated, emotionally-challenged, post-ovulating gal could ever want or need. But today, this chronic, erratic virus made the milk taste weird and the thought of the second Twinkie didn’t even stay in my head for more than one swallow of Nestlé Quik.

  My sugar-packed, weird-tasting-yet-still-chocolate-flavored milk helped to ease my crabbies. My thoughts turned to Mack to try to make sense of things. He’d just had some emergency he needed to attend to, I decided. He was a doctor, after all. And he’d asked me to the ball, hadn’t he? He’d called me Bright Eyes. Where is the need to complain? I wanted to know.

  In a flash of genius, I figured I should go find a ball gown. I needed to find me a little number that would knock the socks off one particularly handsome doctor. In addition to my one emergency (and Redbox) credit card, I’d kept back and hidden a Macy’s card under the utensil tray in my kitchen drawer. Also For Emergencies Only, of course. (Don’t tell my financial counselor.)

  As I went out the door to go find the most beautiful evening dress ever made, I noticed the light flashing on my phone that a message was waiting. I’d forgotten to check for a few days and it had been hidden under a pile of junk mail I’d stashed there when I came in sometime in the last week.

  I punched in my code and put it on speaker, listening while I snapped up the front of my pink, plastic rain slicker. This is Dr. Chen’s office. We have the results back from some of your tests, so please give us a call at your earliest convenience.

  I’d call when I got back. I was feeling so much better after my Hostess brunch anyway. I wasn’t so worried about this virus thing after all.

  The perfect dress screamed out to me from Macy’s window display. When I tried it on, I knew what Cinderella must have felt when she exchanged her sooty muslin for the glittery, white foofy gown that glowed in the dark, made mice sing, and put all the other awkward girls in the kingdom to shame.

  The dress was way too expensive, especially for someone who wasn’t gainfully employed, but I couldn’t pass it up. I’d eBay my Curious George statue if I had to, to pay for it. I circled in front of the four-paneled mirror in the fitting room. The dress was perfect—the color a rich green that shimmered black when the light changed. My eyes took on the color and transformed into the deepest green I’d ever seen them. And the cut was just right to flatter my figure and hide the flaws. The snug, strapless bodice was an A line sweetheart fit covered with emerald crystals. The floor-length tulle skirt was full and flowing. It was sure to capture and keep Mack’s attention. I couldn’t wait a whole week to get his reaction. I decided I just had to give him a sneak preview.

  With the huge shopping bag swinging at the end of my arm, I walked from the bus stop toward Mack’s condo complex. The drizzle had lifted, and so had my mood.

  When I was still across the street and about two hundred feet away from the courtyard, Mack’s car pulled up along the curb. Perfect timing. He was just getting home from work.

  He jumped out and dashed to the passenger door. Someone was in the car with him. When I squinted, I could see who it was. The Gorgeous Goddess. A wall of disappointment and panic smacked me all at once. I was ready to spin a one-eighty but Mack saw me and offered an awkward wave. Now I was trapped. And I could tell he felt trapped too. That odd look on his face was not an I’m-glad-to-see-you expression. It was more like an Oh hell, Kate. What now? look.

  It took about five days to walk the two hundred feet to his car. I thought I might die.

  A girl could hope.

  I prayed some merciful eighteen-wheeler would just flatten me right there into the pavement and put me out of my misery as I trudged across the street. The closest I came to an answered prayer was an angry bicyclist yelling something at me about being in his way. I couldn’t really make out the profane words he used to describe my mental acumen. All sounds were distorted in my hearing and I could only see a long tunnel focused in on Mack hovering over the Goddess.

  He stayed on the other side of the car talking to that other woman. While he was bent down—whispering secrets into her ear no doubt—I should have just executed a U-turn and gone back to where I’d come from. We would have both been happier. But my legs were apparently disengaged from my brain. No matter how loudly my mind yelled at my feet to about-face, the traitorous dogs just kept moving forward. I think they were plotting some kind of retribution, which included planting a well-aimed kick somewhere on the offending party. I couldn’t really blame them for their animosity, but I was hoping we could avoid a scene and I could just slink away into oblivion.

  Just as my legs and I rounded the car, prepared to watch my feet carry out their ploy to avenge me, Mack looked up from where he hovered over that other woman. He was taking the brakes off the wheels of her wheelchair.

  Wheelchair?

  “Hello, Kate,” he said.

  “Um, hi. Bad time to drop by?” I’m the lo
west of lows. I’m a worm. I deserve to never taste chocolate again in my life. I hate a woman who’s in a wheelchair!

  “No, it’s okay,” he said as he continued to unlock the brakes.

  I held out my shopping bag. I had to fill the silence. I had to do something so no one would have time to contemplate my despicable condition.

  “I wanted to show you my new…dress…” I realized that perhaps I wasn’t supposed to tell we were going to the ball together. Maybe that was a secret.

  Maybe he’d only asked me because his other girlfriend—the gorgeous one—couldn’t dance.

  Maybe it wasn’t so bad to hate her after all. You know, Equal Opportunity and all.

  I was never that great at keeping secrets anyway.

  I pulled the gown out and pasted a curved smile on my face. “It’s for the ball we’re going to. Together.”

  “It’s very nice,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.” He seemed authentically pleased. But that other woman didn’t appear to be authentically anything. I couldn’t read her. From her lack of expression, I assumed she didn’t necessarily like me much. But it didn’t really matter, since I’d decided it was okay to hate her. We stared at each other a moment waiting for Mack to decide if he was going to introduce us.

  He finally turned to her and said, “This is Kate.”

  She put out her hand to shake mine and it seemed that all the ice I thought I’d seen vanished.

  “Hello, Kate. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

  “You are?”

  How could she be? Unless she knew she was in and I was just a passing whim. That would mean I was just a joke to her. My face got hot.

  “Yes, of course. Jim’s told me all about you,” she said.

  I let go of her hand. Yes, hate was a very handy thing.

  “I’m Jackie Schroeder.”

  My mind whirled. Jackie Schroeder. Wheelchair. The story was coming together. This was Carl’s wife. She had survived the accident. And now she was Mack’s mistress?

  “I…I know your husband.” Man, did I say that? How stupid could I get? Just when I needed to be cool. Cultured. Suave. Not one of the Reader’s Digest words, but it was a good word. I wanted suave. I needed it.