Moonlight Road

by Robyn Carr

  “Actually, no. I thought we’d have one of our own.”

  “Mel,” he said gently, giving her hands a comforting squeeze. “Mel, between us we might be missing some parts for having our own….”

  She laughed a little bit. “I know my uterus is gone, Jack. But I still have ovaries and you still have sperm. We could get a surrogate.”

  “Huh?” he said, frowning.

  “You know what that is, I know you do.”

  “I do,” he said. “But…”

  “In vitro—our baby in a surrogate.” Then she smiled brightly. “You do make such wonderful babies. And I think we can squeak in one more before we really run out of time. We were sort of thinking about that right before Emma was born anyway. And she’s two.”

  “No, we weren’t. I’m forty-four. And you’re thirty-six.”

  “Hardly Grandma Moses and the old man of the sea, Jack,” she said.

  “Is this something you just started kicking around? This surrogate idea?” he wanted to know.

  “I’ve been giving it some pretty serious thought for a while now. We’re not the youngest parents, but lots of couples nowadays start their families in their thirties and forties. We’re healthy and strong…. There’s no reason to think we won’t be around to see them well into adulthood. Of course, one or both of us could fall off a mountain, but that’s not an age-sensitive calamity. When you think about it, with my history of infertility, had we decided to have a family it might well have taken us this long to get started anyway.”

  He was quiet again. Then he said, “Mel, your history of infertility did not follow you to Virgin River. And we have two kids. Two smart, healthy, beautiful kids.”

  “Will you at least think about it? Because it’s really a logical solution for us. We have everything but a uterus….”

  He was shaking his head. “Baby, we don’t need a solution! We don’t have a problem!”

  “Well, if we want one more child, we have a little problem. Jack, it’s just surrogacy—it’s not brain surgery. There are a number of women who, for whatever reason, are willing to carry a baby for a couple who can’t carry their own. They’re most often married women who already have children, don’t really need or want more, but deal with pregnancy and childbirth very well. Of course, they’re paid and their medical expenses covered, but it’s rarely a moneymaking proposition for them. It’s usually a service they’re willing to provide for couples who can’t carry and deliver their own baby.”

  “You really believe that?” he asked. “That it’s not about the money?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose sometimes money is a major factor, but there are always many screened surrogates to choose from and I wouldn’t be interested in one who desperately needs money. Her motivation might not be what we’re looking for.”

  “Listen, I’ve seen news stories where the woman doesn’t want to give up the baby….”

  “That usually happens when the woman provides half the biology,” Mel said. “When it’s her egg involved, sometimes her feelings change while she’s pregnant. Then it’s her baby she doesn’t want to part with. Our case wouldn’t be like that. In our case, all we need is a womb. A living, breathing petri dish. Problems and complications with screened surrogate applicants are rare.” And then she smiled broadly, as if the matter had all just been settled.

  Jack picked up his towel and a glass from beneath the bar and began wiping out nonexistent water spots. Mel had learned long ago that that was a move Jack used when he didn’t know what to say or how to act. Sometimes he did that to look busy when his mind was spinning out of control, or to keep from throttling someone. “How does it work, exactly?” he asked.

  “Well, you determine whether you’re good candidates—and I can tell you we are. You look over screened surrogates and interview some. You harvest some eggs from me, collect some sperm from you, have a qualified lab create embryos from our egg and sperm, freeze them, implant a couple in the surrogate and—”

  “And get six or eight babies?” he asked, lifting a brow.

  “No, Jack. Just one. Outside chance of two, but if you choose a surrogate with a proven uterus who conceives easily, the doctor will only implant one, or a maximum of two embryos. If it doesn’t take after a few tries, the doctor might chance three at the outside. Having all the embryos take on the third or fourth try? A miracle. No, Jack. It will be one baby. The chance of two would be the same odds as us having our own set of twins if I still had a uterus and we decided to have one more pregnancy.”

  His towel-covered hand continued to rotate inside the glass and he was quiet. His face was a stone, void of expression.

  “Jack?” she asked. “Not such a crazy idea, is it?”

  He let out his breath. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that this sort of thing is your business—your area of expertise. I try, though.”

  “And?”

  “And it might help if you’d try to remember that it is not mine.”

  “And that means?”

  He put down the glass and towel. He leaned his elbows on the bar so his face was even with hers. He grabbed her hands again. His eyes and his voice were soft. “Mel, if we hadn’t had a baby and you wanted one really badly, I’d do almost anything I could to help that happen for you. If you asked me to think about opening our home up to one more kid, maybe a kid who otherwise might not have parents, I could give that some serious consideration. You know—room in the heart, room in the home. But this thing you’re asking…” He shook his head almost sadly. “I don’t know if I can watch our baby make another woman fat. I don’t know if I can watch our baby come out of another woman’s body.”

  “You don’t have to watch,” she suggested.

  “Getting you pregnant was about the biggest trip I ever had in my life,” he said. “Knowing you were knocked up, battling through your mood swings, watching your belly grow and move, then giving birth…it was sacred to me. A miracle. Mel, our two kids and all that went into getting them, hardly anything measures up to that. Something about my swimmers meeting up with your eggs in a dish in a lab, growing inside some woman I don’t know…”

  “But it’s a last resort!”

  “No, baby. A last resort is being thankful for the blessings we have. If things had been different and a third one came along, I could live with that. I could be happy about that. But we don’t have to have one more.” He made a face. “At least not that way.”

  She chewed her lower lip for a moment. “It’s just very strange and alien to you.”

  “You got that right,” he agreed.

  “But it’s done all the time.”

  “I don’t do it all the time,” he said.

  “Before you make a final decision, will you at least talk to John Stone about it? The clinic he worked in before coming to Grace Valley had a very active fertility practice. I think Susan said she and John needed a little jump start to get their first child. Would you do that, please? Would you talk to John? Ask him some questions from the man’s point of view?”

  He pursed his lips for a moment. “For you,” he said. “I’ll talk to John about it. I’ll ask some questions. But the way I feel right now, Mel? This isn’t something I want to do.”

  “Talk to John,” she said. “Please?”

  He leaned toward her and kissed her. “Okay.”

  “Thank you, Jack. It would mean a lot to me if you could try to just keep an open mind.”

  “I’ll try, babe. I’ll really try.”

  Erin was bored out of her skull. When Ian and Marcie left her after spending one night, she just sat around for a couple of days. The longest days of her life. But, determined to get a handle on her life and forge a new direction, she pulled out some of the books she’d brought along—self-help books about relaxing, serenity, meditation, the psychology of inner joy, the power of positive thinking, the energy of intention, taking control of your emotional life, and her personal favorite—Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff.

  She’
d read many self-help books, but her usual fodder was about focus and effectiveness, organization and efficiency. She liked those books; it fed her work habit. In the quiet internal books—she couldn’t even find anything to highlight. And Erin liked to highlight. It made her feel enterprising.

  When she had satellite hookup, she tried TV. Out of three hundred channels, she couldn’t find anything to engage her brain. She put on a movie and realized that even her favorite chick flicks weren’t as much fun without Marcie giggling or sighing and Ian whining that he was being tortured.

  So she e-mailed her office and told everyone even remotely related to her cases and clients that she was computer functional again and already feeling very rested and relaxed, so she had the time to consult if they needed her input. Since they were all at work, the responses came instantly. We’re doing fine—just enjoy yourself. Everything under control, boss, have a good time. No problems here, Erin—just make the most of your vacation!

  She decided it was probably best to leave the cabin, so the next morning she jumped in her car and headed over to Eureka to do a bookstore prowl. Erin loved to read, but she read for a couple of hours in the evening and had no interest in wiling away an entire day with a book, even a great book. She was much better at staying busy. So, on this trip through the bookstore she bought books on crafts, from gardening to quilting. Before buying any actual craft supplies, she decided she’d graze through the books to see what caught her interest. Lord knew she had never had time for crafts before.

  When she got home late in the day, she poured herself a glass of wine and paged through the books. Everything had the same effect on her—it was like watching paint dry. Then she got to the book on gourmet cooking that had slipped in there and her throat tightened up. Her eyes blurred and burned. Gourmet cooking? For one?

  The next morning she headed out again—this time to Costco and Target. She bought a hammock to string between two trees and some large, fancy plants and big pots for the deck. When she got home and realized she’d forgotten to buy tools for hanging the hammock or potting soil for the plants, she left the whole business outside for when the spirit moved her. If it moved her.

  The next day she just got in the car in the morning and drove; time to see the sights. Time to check out those little tucked-away antique stores she claimed she couldn’t wait to visit yet had no real interest in. While she drove, she thought—mostly about Marcie and Drew. She was so proud of them both; so honored to have been the one to help them get to this stage in their young lives.

  Finally, finally, finally that time of life she’d worked so hard toward was here—they were truly adults who could manage full, productive, happy lives.

  Suddenly she realized she’d driven south for hours and was almost to the turnoff to Clear Lake. She pulled off the road. She could take the turnoff and just go home to Chico and forget this whole summer-on-the-mountain thing. Marcie and Ian wouldn’t make fun of her, and Drew was in Los Angeles. The people at the office? They’d talk about workaholic Erin, but she was a partner—they’d talk quietly.

  Then she remembered that day in the ladies’ room at the courthouse when she’d overheard a conversation about her while she was in a stall. “She goes out with men, but usually once, and it never works out,” one woman said. And the other had replied, “She is so uptight, the woman has no life!”

  In all the years since she was old enough to date, she’d only dated four men more than twice and all four had had major complaints about her—she was not just uptight and self-protective, unable to let down her guard, but also overconfident, too serious, inflexible and, oh yes, bossy. She worked too hard and too much; she just couldn’t relax. She couldn’t count the number of times she had been told to just let go…

  Three of those men had later hired her as their tax attorney and one came to her for his living trust and estate plan.

  She made a wide U-turn and headed back to Virgin River.

  After the garage sale was over, Aiden took what was left over to the Goodwill receiving depot as donation. When the cleaning, chores and yard work were finished, Aiden and Luke helped move Franci, Rosie and their suitcases into one of Luke’s cabins.

  In a couple of days Franci and Rosie would go to San Francisco to pick up Sean and bring him back to Virgin River. He had time for some leave, but by mid-July they had to be on their way to Montgomery. They had to find housing before Sean started Air Command and Staff College in August, a one-year program for senior officers who had the potential to be leaders. As in, generals.

  The thought of Sean being a senior officer always made Aiden chuckle. He could almost see Luke as a general more than Sean. Sean had always been such a fuck-up. But he’d also been an honor graduate from the academy and a good stick—slang for a pilot with both good instincts and good hands.

  After doing his family chores, Aiden was allowed his own time again. He dressed for a hike, but he took his car. He drove right up to Erin’s cabin this time, hoping his garden hadn’t dried up in his absence. There was no car there, as usual. And his garden seemed to be thriving.

  But lo and behold, there was at long last a change. There were three pretty large plants sitting on the deck. Beside them sat three nice-looking ceramic pots. And that was all—no bag of potting soil. So someone had been around. He looked into the house through the French doors—no sign of life in there.

  Also on the deck was an opened box displaying a macramé and wood something. He took a closer look. It was a hammock, the instructions lying out, but abandoned. There were no tools there for putting it up, but all that was needed was a screwdriver and small wrench to secure a couple of brackets. So he tended his garden and the next day he brought some potting soil and a couple of tools to put up the hammock. And why was he doing this? Because Erin was completely helpless and he had the time, that’s why. Then he smiled a little, remembering the sight of that fantastic booty.

  When Erin went fleeing back to Virgin River after her long drive, she stopped in town. She decided to just grab something she could reheat for dinner, so she went to Jack’s bar. She recognized the only person there as the local midwife sitting at one of the tables, writing in some open folders. Erin had met Mel on her visit two and a half years before.

  Mel looked over her shoulder and said, “Well! Hello! I knew I’d run into you eventually!” She stood up from her table, pen still in hand, and came to Erin, giving her a friendly hug. “How’s it going?”

  “Great,” Erin said, smiling. “Totally great.”

  “What can I get you?” Mel asked. “Come and sit with me and tell me all about the family.”

  “I just thought I’d stop off and grab something I can warm up later for dinner, but you…” Erin glanced at the table Mel had occupied. “You seem to be working.”

  “A little patient charting. I told Jack if he’d take David with him on errands, I’d do my charting over here and that way if anyone comes into the bar, I can fetch Preacher from the kitchen. The baby is asleep over at the clinic—Dr. Michaels is standing guard. Do you have time for something to drink?”

  “I have nothing but time,” Erin said with a laugh. “All summer.”

  “Wow. That must be an amazing feeling.”

  “Oh, amazing,” she said. She glanced at Mel’s drink and said, “Diet cola?”

  “Gotcha covered,” Mel said, going behind the bar. “So, Jack tells me Marcie and Ian are expecting…and what else did he say? Something about your younger brother…”

  “Accepted into an orthopedic residency at UCLA Medical Center.”

  “Wow. I did some of my internship in my nurse-practitioner program there,” she said. She brought Erin the cola. “He’ll have enough broken bones and car wrecks to keep him busy. I saw the cabin—I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind? I’m glad you did! What did you think?”

  Mel leaned back. “Well, girl, I saw that place before and after. I don’t know how you and Paul managed to get something that beautiful out of s
ome pictures sent over e-mail.”

  “Collecting the pictures was the easy part,” Erin said. “It’s still small—just two rooms. Of course, I sent some design suggestions that Paul rejected for construction reasons—we had to modify the design in the kitchen and bathroom to accommodate new plumbing features. After that, it was furniture shopping, which I did well in advance so they could make the delivery date. He’s really gifted, isn’t he?”

  “Paul built our house,” Mel said. “He did that as a favor, but now that he’s set up part of Haggerty Construction down here, he’s the builder of choice. What I’m really curious about, Erin, is why you decided to do this at all. I don’t know many people who can manage to take a whole summer off, and you planned it so carefully.”

  “It didn’t really happen that neatly. Ian and Marcie were coming up here for the occasional weekend. Then Drew actually used the cabin as a getaway a couple of times. Both Drew and Ian have been in school and it was a great study retreat for both of them. I was the only one in the family not interested, at least not until the loo was moved indoors.”

  Mel laughed. “Understandable. I never did go for the idea of the outhouse. Still fairly common up in the hills, by the way.”

  “I thought I might like to borrow the place if it was spruced up a little. When Ian told me to go for it, I got a little carried away. He admitted he was thinking as far as a septic tank, while I added a whole room and had it rebuilt from the floor up, adding a nice big master bath and full kitchen. Not to mention a stone hearth and covered deck.”

  “The deck’s the best part, I think. Watching a sunset from there must be pure magic. You and Paul make a good team.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Erin admitted.

  “What made you decide to make a summer of it?” Mel asked.

  She shrugged and looked into her cola. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been accused of working too much, of not knowing how to relax.”

  To her surprise, Mel laughed softly. “I can relate.”