BooksBarbecue
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

With the nonstop crying in the backseat, I was afraid my head was gonna burst. I tried to ignore it. Then halfway there, whattya know? I looked in the rearview mirror. The lunatic was asleep. Must have been the country music.

“Thank God,” I said, squinting at the upcoming intersection. Most of the roads were unmarked. Was this the left turn or was it the next one? In the dark, it was hard to tell.

Finally, I saw the old billboard for Midwest Bank. That was the landmark I used to signal my turn. Another left at the T-stop, then take the second right. As my headlights moved over the long driveway, I saw Deena’s big white farmhouse ahead. I slowed down to try and fool her sled dogs. But the motion-sensor floodlights flashed on. All four huskies ran out from their winter kennels. They jumped up at the chain-link fence. They whined and barked. Soon a full-on howl got going. Sure enough, the porch light went on. I put the truck in park and saw Deena peeking out the curtains on the little window of her big front door.

“Stay asleep,” I said to the blanket-covered lump in the backseat. As soon as I put the truck in park, the baby woke up and started fussing. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, and I fished around in the stupid bag for a pacifier. Found one and stuck it in the kid’s mouth.

Deena trudged out the door in her oversize parka and her dead husband’s duck boots. Her mother-in-law, Mrs. Z, stood in the open doorway, clutching her blue robe at the neck.

“Quiet, Trapper! Quiet, Baz!” said Deena. The dogs bounded toward her as she got near the fence. She was bossy but calm. She said each name. “Quiet, Nathan, quiet, Pops.” They settled down, and she tossed them each a treat.

“Hey.” I nodded as I got out of the truck and shut the door. I waved at Mrs. Z, and she waved back, then moved away from the window.

“Hey ya, pipsqueak.” Deena walked to me and gave me a slap on the shoulder. She always called me that because she’s five years older. But it’s been a long time since I was smaller than her.

“The dogs seem good,” I said, shifting my weight.

“My boys,” Deena said, beaming at her dogs, watching them play. “You gonna come in?” She started up the front steps. Her voice was raspy. She coughed.

“Yeah.” I looked back at the truck. The kid would be fine for a few minutes.

“What is it?” Deena noticed me looking at the truck. “You got a dead body in there?”

“No,” I said, but I must not have sounded too confident.