BooksBarbecue
Back The Surrogate Save as PDF
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

“Something’s wrong. She’s green,” I said.

“More like yellow,” said Deena. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing!” Mrs. Z fretted. “I was burping her, and she spit up, and when I was wiping her up, she arched her back and went stiff.”

“Shit.” Deena ran her hand through her hair.

Mrs. Z cried, “I don’t think she’s breathing, Deen.”

“I’m calling 911,” I said.

“No,” Deena said. “We have to go now.” She marched to the hallway, pulled on her coat, and grabbed her purse.

“To the hospital?” I said.

Mrs. Z took the blanket out of the dresser-drawer bed and wrapped it around the baby.

“Now, now, go.” Deena waved me into the hallway. She put the baby in the car carrier as we hustled out the door and into the truck.

“Where am I going?” I pulled out the driveway, past the howling dogs.

“St. Mary’s. I’ll tell you the way,” said Deena.

Forty-Five

Cally

MONDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2002

Evening

I woke up in a different room. It was dark outside. For a moment, I thought the bassinet would be nearby, and I sat up and scanned the room in a panic, as if I were still in Minneapolis and hadn’t gone out the window yet. But I was alone, and I remembered about Vera and the ambulance. Where was Nell? Was she hungry? Was she okay? I sank back into the bed and tried to think.

Monitors beeped around me, and there was a bag of liquid on a pole, dripping something into my veins. I grabbed the call box and pressed the big red button. Rip. The curtain opened and a red-haired nurse walked in, rubbing her hands in sanitizer foam.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I said. There wasn’t one in my room.

“I can certainly help you with that,” she said, fussing with the IV pole and organizing the tubes. She guided me out of bed and held on to my arm. “Just push this pole along with you, and we’ll walk.”

When we got to the hallway, the lights were bright. The building was shaped like a U, with lots of glass. I was drawn to the hall across from me, where I saw a slumpy gray figure shuffling along in a ratty hat. Digger? My heart jumped and I froze in place.

“Is that . . .” I pulled the pole with me as I strode toward the other hallway.

“No, no, no,” said the nurse, chasing me. “This way.” Another nurse blocked me and I had to stop.

“What’s over there?” I said, peering, but I couldn’t see him anymore. Maybe he’d gone into a room. Maybe it wasn’t him.

“Come on,” said the red-haired nurse, directing me along by my shoulders. “It’s fine.”