The Clone's Mother

by Cheri Gillard

  “Do something,” I snapped at anybody, everybody. “I’m going to die here!”

  “You’re not going to die,” my nursie girl said as she dialed the phone—most certainly to call my doctor to make sure she knew that I was going to die.

  “Want to make a bet? You—” Whoa, I had to stop sassing. Another contraction came on and the pressure was huge. I’m saying, huge. The end was near. My end. I was going to explode soon. Either that, or kill every one in the room and go home.

  Instead, I went ahead and had the baby.

  Suddenly, something changed and the pressure dropped so low, so intense, I knew it had to be a head.

  And sure enough, there it was. That stubborn little head, covered in thick, brown curls.

  It was a big head. A huge head, actually. Big enough to support a nine pound baby. No wonder it took so long to pass through the baby bootie.

  Once the head was delivered, the rest was cake. Except for the episiotomy.

  Another resolution. Never again would I let any doctor do that to a lady. I’d send her home before that one too.

  While Dr. Chen stitched me back into one piece, that wonderful little nurse of mine cleaned off my new son and brought him to me.

  He was beautiful. He even looked like Mack. He was from his gene pool in a way, after all.

  I smiled at the nurse. She wasn’t so bad. I smiled at Dr. Chen. I smiled at everyone who came in to see if I’d decided to go home or stay and have the kid after all.

  And I smiled at Mack. And then I cried. Tears of joy, relief, jubilation, love.

  He was beautiful. And perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes. Everything perfect.

  Mack was right. I could do it.

  Chapter 49

  A new set of giddy grandparents stood a few feet away, chattering and cooing at a newborn in a hospital bassinet on the other side of the glass partition. Unlike them, Jackie sat in silence and watched a different baby. Tiny fists poked up from the blanket and dark curls wiggled as he squirmed out of his swaddling.

  Jackie’s thoughts were eclipsed by the emotions tumbling around inside her: pain and abandonment. Why hadn’t Carl loved her? He’d rejected her. But he wanted those children. That’s all he could think about. The bastard only wanted to get Zoe and Jack back. But he’d done nothing to get his own wife back.

  But now he was dead. And all that had come between them had to go away.

  She remembered back to the last time she’d seen those black rings of hair tossed about. It was when she saw him and his sister climbing into the back of her car. She had caught a glimpse of them through the foggy window of the family cabin.

  Carl’s back was to the window. Jackie faced the glass and in the fading daylight saw the children climb into her 4Runner. Carl drew her attention back to him when he suggested they seek marriage counseling. Jackie couldn’t help blurting out a cynical laugh.

  “You think that’s going to help?” she mocked with sarcasm. “We don’t need a shrink. You just need to treat me like I’m your wife, like I matter.” He’d found out about her affair. The latest one anyway. He wanted to meet up at the cabin for the weekend and talk it out. But all he ever did with his little interventions was blame her and accuse her of doing things wrong. All she wanted was respect and love. If he had paid her the attention she deserved in the first place, she wouldn’t have needed to try to get him to notice her by flirting with other men.

  “Jackie,” he said with less hot air than usual, “please don’t do this again. We need to be honest.”

  “Too late for honesty, Doctor.” She sipped more of the vodka, relishing the heat slipping down her throat. Any minute it would soothe away the pain, the disappointment.

  “Why would you go to someone else?” His voice was weak. “I don’t know what else to do. How can I make you happy?”

  “Make me happy? I shouldn’t have to tell you how, if you had any sensitivity at all.”

  “Am I supposed to read your mind? I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted. And a whole lot more.” He suddenly shifted to anger. “You’re ungrateful, willful, stubborn, greedy. All you’ve ever done is demand. You’re a spoiled, rich brat and I don’t even want to be around you when you’re like this.”

  She sprang across the carpet and pummeled him with her fists. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

  “Jackie, stop it! Stop hitting me!”

  He wouldn’t even hit her back, just held up his arms to block her. But she fought hard anyway and landed a few good blows on his face, cutting his lip on his tooth and clocking him in the nose.

  “Damn it, Jackie!”

  He was bent over, cupping his nose and mouth with his hands. She kept hammering his back with her fists.

  Then he finally truly got mad. He reared up, popping her in the eye with the back of his hard head. She stood back and studied him, pleasure in the burning where his skull had crashed into her brow and cheekbone. She’d gotten him to finally react, to act like he felt something. The pain made her feel alive, like now they were connecting.

  “Damn you, Jackie! What are you doing? You’re sick, you’re crazy!” He swayed on his feet like a wounded bear. Water filled his eyes while he kept his nose cradled in his hand. “Why have I ever tried to help you? You’re sick, Jackie. Sick.”

  “I want a divorce,” Jackie taunted him.

  “You’ll divorce me? Walk away from my money? You’d never leave.”

  “I’d dump you in a second. I’ll get the money.”

  “It’d be a relief if you would go,” he shouted, dropping his hand from his face. “All you’ve ever done is drain me and my bank account. Go ahead. Divorce me. The prenup is airtight.”

  She was surprised he’d called her bluff so fast. She’d have to up the ante.

  “I’ll take the children away from you. You’ll never see them again.”

  “You’ll never get the kids. You’re crazy and you drink too much. Just try it. In fact, I’ll call my lawyer right now and tell him to start the process.”

  He pulled out his cell and began scrolling through his contacts. Jackie flung herself at him again, knocking the phone from his hand.

  She raked his face with her nails. He pushed her away, knocking her onto the couch. He snatched his phone off the floor, cursing her as he did.

  Jackie knew she’d pushed him too far. He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. She’d have to stop him. She put on her sweetest voice and made the tears come again.

  “Wait. Don’t call him yet, Carl. Let’s talk, like you said. I shouldn’t have said that, any of it. I’m just too upset from all that’s been going on. Let’s talk it out.”

  He ignored her and kept his attention on the phone, holding it up to find a signal.

  She turned up the tears.

  “Please, Carl. Give me another chance. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll try. Really. I’m sorry.”

  Carl lowered the phone and watched her a moment. He slowly slipped it back into his pocket. “You mean it?” he asked, dabbing the scratches on his face then checking his fingertips for blood.

  “Yes, Carl. Just tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”

  He took a minute to pat his handkerchief on his cheek.

  “Okay, one more chance. But you have to promise to do what I say.”

  “Oh, I promise, I do. Whatever you say.”

  “You have to dry out. And get some therapy. You need help.”

  “Okay, sure. I’ll get help. We need help, both of us. Let’s go on a cruise. Get away from it all. That will help. I know it will.”

  “No, Jackie. You promised to do what I tell you. You have to get help. You’re sick. You’ve got to do as I say.”

  “I promised I would. But how about a trip, huh? It will be perfect. We can go to Alaska, or the Caribbean, anywhere you like.”

  “Not on my nickel, we won’t. The only trip I’ll finance is straight to drug rehab.”

  Jackie got mad.

  “You said you wanted t
o try,” she said.

  “I said you had to do what I said. You promised. If you renege, I’ll cancel all your credit cards, change the locks, and you’ll be on the street.”

  Then the real tears started. The thought of being back on the street terrified her. She hadn’t been there since before she’d met Carl. She wasn’t going back.

  “I can make it so none of your patients will let you near them—those flirts that flit into your office and want you to put your hands all over them. You love touching them, I know it. A couple anonymous calls about you molesting some patients, and that’d be it. You’d be out of work, you’d be ruined. I can ruin you!”

  “You can’t touch me, Jackie. You have so little power, you’re impotent.”

  “Ah, you forget, Doctor,” she spat at him. “You’re the impotent one, remember? When you couldn’t do it? What happens when you’re caressing those women all day long? Do they turn you on? Could you love them?” She refilled her crystal tumbler with more vodka. She needed more. It wasn’t hitting her blood fast enough.

  “Jackie, with the stress we’ve had, it’d be abnormal not to have difficulty. Everything was fine two nights ago.”

  Jackie laughed. “Those pictures I took? When you thought it was a turn-on? I sent them to two of your patients already. They were on your phone, remember?” She smirked at him with satisfaction then took another drink.

  “Jackie—”

  “You’ve never been a satisfying lover, you know.”

  “Shut-up. Just shut-up! You’re sicker than I thought. You promised to do what I said, and you can’t even pretend for five minutes that you’ll follow through with it. You’re a drunken, worthless mess.”

  “That’s not true,” she cried out. “I can do anything you say. I can. I’ll show you. Tell me, and I’ll show you.”

  “It’s not even worth my breath to talk to you.”

  “Just name it, I’ll do it. I’ll show you. I am not worthless.”

  “Then right now, give me your wallet, your pills, and dump that bottle and glass out.”

  “I can do that. See?” She held her drink over the sink, working hard not to let him see her hand tremble. Then she let the beautiful comfort trickle down through the drain.

  “Good. Now the wallet. And the pills.”

  “I don’t know where my purse is.”

  “Give me your credit cards, Jackie. You won’t need them where you’re going.”

  She stared at him with narrowed eyes. She felt trapped. If he took her money, then next he’d take the kids. She’d have no power over him. Never again. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Then she remembered what she’d seen out the window. She had an idea. He wouldn’t get the children. She’d hurt him. Make him want her like never before. Make it so he’d regret everything forever.

  “All right. I’ll get my purse. It’s in the bedroom.”

  Jackie left Carl a moment to get her things. When she returned, he stood between her and the door. It might be hard to get around him, once he realized she was headed out the door. But she had to try. She had to get away so she could make him want her. Make him sorry. Make him wish he’d loved her better.

  She watched him a moment from the bedroom doorway, then he put out his hand as if he could force her into giving over her bag, her money, her belongings.

  She walked toward him, then swerved around and dashed for the door. He grabbed for her arm, catching her wrist and jerking her shoulder hard.

  “Let go of me, you monster. Let me go!” She liked that he wanted her. It’s all she’d ever wanted. It was thrilling that he fought back, that he clung to her, grabbed for her.

  “You must do as I say, Jackie. This won’t work if you don’t let me help you,” he yelled at her.

  “Let go,” she screamed. “I’m getting out of here.” She’d make him work for her, prove how much he really wanted her.

  She kicked him hard in the knee and spun out of his grasp. She ripped the front door open then flew past the screen door. It took a moment for him to follow, and when he did he lurched with a limp, the leg she’d kicked slowing him down.

  “Jackie. Come back here,” he said. “You will do as I say.”

  She dashed to the car, racing to get the door open and closed again before he reached her.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Get out of there,” he yelled as she struggled to open the car.

  She jumped in and slammed and locked the door.

  “Jackie,” he screamed, grabbing and rattling the handle. “Get out of there. Right now. Get out.” He pounded the window, making her flinch every time he hit the glass. His passion invigorated her, turned her on.

  That was the last time she’d been with Carl. She had waited and waited, but he never came. He didn’t come to see her in the hospital, at the rehab center, or anywhere. He wouldn’t talk to Jim about her. Wouldn’t even mention her name, Jim had admitted to her. At least Jim seemed to understand. He doted on her, like she needed. She just wanted love and someone who cared. That’s all she wanted in life, and the one thing most people couldn’t understand or give her. She’d let go of Carl. Now she had Jim.

  But that woman was taking Jim’s attention and love away. Kate couldn’t have him. Jackie wouldn’t allow it. Jim belonged to her.

  She refocused in front of her on the little bundle wriggling out of his blanket. That baby—who was Jack, really—certainly never had given her what she’d needed. He’d always favored Carl over her. Just like Zoe had. Her children had only demanded, taken, hurt. She hadn’t had any more to give them. And she sure didn’t need Jack back to remind her of all the pain, and to make her feel inadequate and guilty again.

  Or to love some other mother as if she had been the one responsible for giving him life.

  She’d watched Jack long enough. She knew what she had to do. She wheeled from the nursery window and went to take care of the business that couldn’t wait any longer.

  Chapter 50

  As I stared at the blue and pink swirls in the wallpaper, wondering how after all these years I could have missed that they were storks, a soft knock sounded on the door. The rubber bottom of the heavy door swished against the tile floor. I turned in my bed and watched Jackie propel herself around the foot of my bed and up next to the IV stand by my pillow.

  I was exhausted and I burned where my stitches held me together. I didn’t feel like seeing Jackie. But for Mack’s sake, I tried to be polite.

  “Did you see my baby?”

  Jackie gave me one of her tight smiles, the only kind she’d given me since Mack made me a permanent part of his life. I tried not to let it dampen the joy I was feeling about having just given birth to my healthy, beautiful baby boy.

  “Your baby?” she said with ice piercing her voice. “I saw him and he is an unwanted copy of my Jack. Down to every last curly black hair.”

  “Jackie,” I tried, “I know this must be hard for you, but he is my baby. He isn’t Jack. His name is Howard, after my uncle, and he most definitely is wanted.”

  “It matters little what you pretend to name him. He is copied from my Jack and I can’t allow this charade to continue. You will not have him. No one will.”

  She was fiddling with the IV tubing attached to the line going into my arm as she talked. It took me a minute to notice, I was so stunned at her vicious and shocking words.

  “What are you doing there?” I said as I tried to reel in all the slack of my IV line. “What is that?” I shouted when I saw she held an empty syringe. “What are you doing?”

  She gave me a plastic smile. “Don’t forget, Kate. I’m a nurse too. I’m just giving you something to relax. Your nurse was behind in her work and asked me to give this to you. We used to work together.”

  I couldn’t believe my nurse would be dumb enough to ask some visitor to administer an IV drug to her patient, even if they had once worked together, and no matter how far behind she was. But I couldn’t swallow that Jackie would really hurt me e
ither.

  “I don’t want to relax,” I said, and reached for the tubing next to my arm to pinch it off before the drug could slip through the catheter into my blood stream. Jackie grabbed my wrist and pulled it away from the tubing. She clamped her other fist over my IV arm. My weary muscles were no match for her steel-forged arms, especially considering I’d just spent every last ounce of strength having my first baby and she’d spent the last year trundling herself around in a wheelchair. I tried to writhe free, but as she clamped down harder, crushing my forearms against the bed, I realized she intended to do just what I hadn’t been able to believe she would do.

  We froze there, staring each other down, while she held my arms fused to the bed and waited for whatever medicine she’d injected into my IV to reach my vein. I couldn’t think clearly. I screamed for help but chances were slim my cry would get through the thick door. I realized that if I didn’t do something soon, I might not be able to do anything—ever again.

  I thought of my newborn baby and somehow found the strength and determination. In spite of the vises holding down my arms, I let out a primitive roar and kicked off my covers. I kicked at Jackie, flailing my legs through the air until I twisted around enough to land a blow somewhere on her head. Her hold loosened and I writhed again, working to free my arms. She tried to regain her grip, but I kept kicking and moving, jerking around enough that she couldn’t get a good hold on me again.

  I got one hand free for a split second and grabbed the IV tubing and yanked with all my worth, ripping the catheter right out of my arm.

  Jackie pulled another syringe from her pocket and uncapped the needle with her teeth. She raised the hypodermic like a knife and tried to plunge it into me, but I jumped too fast and bounced off the other side of the bed. Just as I was getting to my feet, she whirled around the foot of the bed and veered at me and rammed me with her chair. My wobbly legs gave out and dropped me to the floor. She catapulted out of her chair and landed on me like a World Federation wrestler and tried again to thrust the needle into my flesh.

  We writhed on the floor, me very quickly losing the match in spite of her paraplegia, as I tried to hold her arms away from me. Adrenaline alone had to have given me the strength to hold out for the seconds that I did.