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The Surrogate

Toni Halleen
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Part Two
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Forty
  46. Forty-One
  47. Forty-Two
  48. Forty-Three
  49. Forty-Four
  50. Forty-Five
  51. Forty-Six
  52. Forty-Seven
  53. Forty-Eight
  54. Forty-Nine
  55. Fifty
  56. Fifty-One
  57. Part Three
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Acknowledgments
  64. About the Author
  65. About the Publisher

Cover

image

Dedication

For Larry, Branch and Linnea,

with love

Epigraph

[W]e are the breakers of our own hearts.

—Eudora Welty

Part One

One

Cally

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2002

Night

I wrapped the baby in pink flannel blankets, tightly like they taught me. To cushion her, I stuffed my extra clothes in the duffel, plus the white hand towels I stole from the bathroom. As I zipped the duffel shut over her face, she was quiet as a corpse. Digger was supposed to flash his lights when he got to the parking lot outside my window. I set the bag on the floor next to the bed and leaned back, watching the wall clock. The second hand jerked forward in sync with the thumping beats of my heart. I was terrified the night nurse would return or someone else would waltz into the room like they’d done all day long and all day yesterday after they’d moved me from the birthing wing to my recovery room.

“Hold on, just hold on,” I said to the duffel bag, willing it not to jiggle, not to whimper. In my head I called her Nell, even though the contract said the intended parents would have sole naming rights. Only two days old, she must have been exhausted. When Digger’s headlights finally flashed, I crumpled the blankets on the bed to confuse the nurses or the food service guy or the priest or anyone else who might happen to stroll in on their rounds. Tomorrow was the day of transfer, and I needed time.

Pains jabbed at the base of my belly as I shuffled to the window, tugged on the latch, and slid it open. Snow and cold air blew in and stung my face. I lifted the duffel, wobbly with Nell inside it, and placed her on the stone ledge, about two feet deep and ten feet off the ground. I crawled out next to her as quickly as I could. My eyelashes caught giant snowflakes that melted as I blinked.

Below us were deep drifts, but where was Digger? I needed him to get over here and catch this baby. My nostrils were sticking shut with each inhale, and I was shaking. I’d climbed out of windows before, but never in weather as cold as this. Once I’d escaped an overnight camp my aunt sent me to when she got tired of me being out of school for the summer. And a few times in high school I climbed out of Digger’s bedroom when we were about to get caught making out. But now I was seriously scared.