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Back The Surrogate
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

I stumbled back up, weak against the doorjamb, and held my chest. I fell into the cabin and shut the front door. I lit a candle and scanned the remaining clothes and supplies on the floor, touching and separating them as if the baby might appear from between two pairs of pants or rise up out of the duffel bag. Where was she? Where did he take her? My heart was pounding hard and my breasts were solid as rocks. The woodburning stove had gone out, and the room was cold. I combed through the items. He’d taken all the important stuff: the diapers, the bottles, and the formula. My breasts hurt.

I put my hand on my aching chest and fell to the floor. Where was Nell? Was she hungry? Was she okay? I pulled my hand away and looked down. The wetness had leaked from my tingling breasts, and the front of my T-shirt was cold and damp.

“Digger!” I cried.

Part Two

Thirty-Four

Ruth

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2002

Evening

Hal put down his drink and answered the grenade. “Hello?”

“Who is it?” I whispered, bouncing up and down. I was feeling a buzz.

“Shh,” said Hal, frowning. Then, to the caller, he said, “Yes.”

“Who would be calling on a Saturday night?” I whispered again, undeterred. I was guessing it was the credit card company calling back with more information.

“No.” He waved me off, turned around, and put his finger in his other ear to help him hear better.

I leaned closer and could hear the “wamph-wah” sound of the voice on the other end of the line. A female voice. Businesslike.

“We will, thank you.” Hal hung up the phone. “That was the director,” he said. “She has seen the security footage.”

I gasped. “And?”

“She wants us to meet her there to view it together.”

“Is the baby okay?”

“I don’t know.” He walked to the front hall closet and pulled on his coat. “I don’t know if either of them is okay.”

I followed Hal out to the garage, and it occurred to me we’d both been drinking. “I should drive,” I said.

“No, I’m fine.”

“I think I’m better.”

“You always think you’re better.” Hal unlocked the SUV and got into the driver’s seat.

At the hospital, Ms. Whittier was waiting for us at the front desk. “Follow me,” she said. We wound through the halls to a wing of the hospital we’d never been to before: the security office, where two men and one woman sat waiting in a conference room with a large video screen. They stood when we entered. Ms. Whittier introduced us to her team, including the director of security, a facilities manager, and a legal representative. Each of them handed us a business card, and we shook hands all around.

I asked, “Why is there a legal person here?”