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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

He walked away, lifting his arm up, his glass still in hand, as if to say “cheers,” as he waltzed out the door alone.

I thought about him the rest of the night, as I said good night to Professor Judith and packed up my gear. I thought about him as I walked to my car in the parking garage, and as I drove back to my house, and I thought about him as I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, and as I slipped under my down comforter, and as I switched off the light. I’m sure, if you had analyzed my brain waves, I was thinking about him while I slept.

All of that with Hal was unexpected. I must have had my guard down to let him in like that. And four years later, married and infertile, I must have had my guard down with Cally, too, when we finally met in person, at that coffee shop. Within ten minutes of sitting down together at a rickety little table in Caribou Coffee, and just as I was allowing myself to think I liked her, she did it: She sneezed without covering her mouth. Without excuse. Just sprayed germs all over us, our hot drinks, and our papers.

“Bless you,” I’d said, finding a Kleenex in my purse and handing it to her. Such a simple thing, hygiene. Maybe I could help her, I thought. I wanted her young eggs, her hospitable uterus. I wanted her to carry our child, but I also wondered about her. Who had raised this girl? What else didn’t she know to do?

Three

Cally

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2002

Night

I pulled the duffel onto my lap. The weight of the bag strained my groin, but I needed to make sure the baby was okay. Most of all, I needed to cut that ID bracelet off of her in case the hospital could still trace it. Digger took a harsh turn around a corner, and the truck bumped over icy ruts, and all of it was painful for my sore butt and thighs. The entire lower half of my body was a mess.

I gently pulled open the zipper of my duffel. There she was, still bundled, but she had shifted sideways, and her face was in a towel. I fished her out and lifted her to my chest.

“Holy SHIT,” said Digger, swerving as he gawked at the baby.

I grabbed the dashboard to stabilize myself, pinning the baby close with my other hand. “Jesus, careful,” I said.

“What the hell is that?” said Digger.

“It’s a fucking baby,” I said, holding on.

“I can see that,” he said, swerving again, catching glimpses.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I said.

“Goddammit,” Digger mumbled as he slowed down and pulled over.

“Why’re you stopping?” I said. “Hey, keep going.”

“No.” Digger slammed the shift into park and turned to face me. “What the fuck are you doing, Cally?”