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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

“Digger, your ex-boyfriend?” I said, wondering if he was the one Cally had wanted to have sex with, and the elevator doors opened.

“Yeah.” She nodded and breathed heavily as she exited with us, forcing herself to take a few steps forward, like a runner after a marathon. We three stood outside the elevator on the first floor. We were all in a kind of haze. Cally said, “He took the baby, Ruth . . . and I’ve been . . . trying to find them . . . I thought I saw him here.” She pointed to the ceiling and gestured to the general surroundings.

“Here? Yes, he is!” I said. “I saw his truck. In the parking lot.”

Raymond and I took hold of Cally and helped her waddle into the lobby. “Let’s get you to a chair,” said Raymond.

“No,” she said. “Where’d you see . . . the truck? Is it still here?”

“Out there.” I pointed at the tall glass-pane windows toward the parking lot, where the truck had been. I scanned for it. “Second row . . .” I looked, but the spot was empty. “It’s gone!” I said.

“Hurry,” said Cally, feebly pushing me and the piece of paper toward the door. “Go to Deena’s . . . Please!”

“Miss? Miss?” A nurse approached to retrieve Cally, who was clearly out of place and struggling, and I waved goodbye and headed to the parking lot with Raymond.

Fifty

Digger

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2002

Late Morning

Finally, the doctor said we could leave. Nothing wrong with the baby. I’d slept on the foldout chairbed. Horrible. Not comfortable at all. Deena had a sofa in the lounge. In the morning, she made some calls. Deena had a friend who worked at the courthouse in Duluth. She would see what she could find in their computer system. Trying to find out how to get ahold of the sperm lawyer and the Ruth woman. Get their last names and numbers.

Deena said she’d come with me to the Cities. Help me with the kid on the drive down. Then we’d bring her to the parents, if we could. Or, if we had to, we’d go to the media. Get some attention. But first we needed to swing by Deena’s place and get some clothes and shit, pick up some lunch, the baby supplies, and other crap. We’d left the house so fast the night before, we hadn’t grabbed anything.

We took the kid out to the parking lot. The temperature had dipped below zero, and I had some trouble starting the truck. I blasted the heat. Just cold air, but I left it on. And I fiddled with the radio while Deena loaded the baby in the backseat. Finally, she plopped down in the front next to me. “Okay.” She tugged on her seat belt.