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

I stopped at the breakfast nook to see if anything caught my eye. The too-sweet smell of waffles cooking overpowered me, and I felt briefly nauseated, but it passed. The coffee was too terrible to drink, but I was still a bit groggy, so I took a half cup. Maybe a Styrofoam bowl of Froot Loops or Raisin Bran with two percent milk? I saw my cab pull up outside, so I grabbed a bagel, took a bite, and tucked the rest in my purse.

The taxi took me to St. Mary’s, where I’d been last night, where Hal and Audrey sat with Jake, but now I was seeing the place in the light of day. Four stories tall, surrounded by parking lots, with an emergency room around back. I prayed there was a decent coffee shop inside.

“You can drop me at the main entrance,” I said, wanting to avoid the triage desk or any of the staff from the ER. But the taxi driver had missed the turn for the main entrance and apologized profusely. He explained he would turn around in the next parking lot, which happened to be for the ER. “Fine,” I said, distracted by digging in my purse for my lipstick and finding the bagel.

When I looked up, I couldn’t believe what I saw parked in the lot: a truck, the same make and model as the one in the video. “Can you pull over there, to the right?” I said.

“But we are going to the main entrance or no?”

“No, to the right, go toward that pickup truck there, see the reddish one?”

The driver crept closer, not sure what I was asking him to do.

But I saw the plate. The license number. This was it: Cally’s getaway truck! The baby was here; they had to be inside. I jumped out of the taxi before he had a chance to stop. The driver yelled out his window, “Hey, you gotta pay me!”

I ran back frantically and leaned against the taxi, purse perched on the edge of his open window. Digging for my wallet. “Here, here you go.” I stuffed a wad of cash into his face and turned back to the hospital.

Where was I? Which entrance was this? Oh, nuts, it was the ER. I burst into the waiting room and looked around for Cally and the baby. Not there. I ran back outside and down the sidewalk to the main entrance. Where are they, where are they? Why are they here? Why is my baby here? Where is my baby?