The Surrogate’s Gift

by Davis, L. G.

  “No.” The whispered word was barely audible, her voice smothered by tears. “I need you.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Bathroom. At home.”

  “Okay. Hang in there. I’m on my way.”

  Maybe it was nothing. If it was something serious, she would have called 911, right? But she called me.

  It was the first time she’d had a pregnancy go beyond twelve weeks. Surely, fate wouldn’t deal my sister another blow. Not after she’d already lost three babies before she got a chance to hold them in her arms.

  When I made it through the dead river of cars from my office in Brickell to their semi-detached home in Edgewater, she wasn’t there. I used my spare key to let myself in.

  “Rachel? Peter? Are you home?” I called as I ran upstairs. The sounds of my voice and footsteps echoed off the walls.

  I burst into the master bathroom and came to a screeching halt in the doorway. My heart plummeted.

  There was blood everywhere. On the toilet bowl, the rug, and smeared on the cream tiles. A white, crumpled towel hung from the lip of the tub, stained red. The metallic smell of blood rushed through me, and I covered my mouth and gagged.

  Not again.

  Gasping, I stumbled back downstairs.

  Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the baby was fine. Maybe she had cut herself.

  But how does one explain away the blood of a pregnant woman? A cut wouldn’t release that much.

  When I got the courage to call Rachel, it went straight to voicemail.

  On my way out the front door, I caught sight of Rachel’s neighbor, Molly, staring at me from over the fence with a head full of curlers.

  “Hi, Grace,” she called. I’d been at Rachel’s house often enough for everyone to know I was her twin sister. “Is Rachel okay?” she asked, coming to the fence and holding it with both hands.

  “What did… what happened to her?” I approached the fence. Maybe she would be able to give me answers.

  “There was an ambulance,” she said. “They took her away. You don’t know anything about it?”

  I shook my head, my breath shaking. “Do you know which hospital they took her to?”

  Now it was her turn to shake her head. “I didn’t speak to anyone. Peter wasn’t home. I do pray that the baby is all right.”

  “Me too,” I said, walking to my Toyota Prius. “I’ll give him a call.”

  “You do that. Please tell Rachel we’re here for her if she needs anything.”

  In the car, I dialed Peter’s phone number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Peter, what happened?” I asked.

  “She’s in hospital.” A rush of breath before he continued, “The baby…” his voice drifted off before he could finish the sentence. The pain in his voice said it all.

  “No, Peter.” I swallowed hard. “Please, tell me it’s not—”

  He didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to.

  “Which hospital? Where are you?”

  “Dawson Hill Memorial,” he said and hung up.

  I arrived at the hospital forty minutes later. Shivering, I stumbled out of the car and into the cool building, where Peter confirmed that they had lost yet another unborn child.

  “I’m so sorry.” My eyes welled up with tears and I pulled him into my arms. His tears soaked my shirt, but I didn’t care.

  Hugging him was like hugging a tree trunk. He was not only several heads taller than me but also broad and muscular, exactly the kind of guy Rachel had always been attracted to. But I knew from experience that Peter’s physical looks didn’t define him. Underneath all the layers of muscle, he was a softy that drew kids to him like moths to a flame.

  Peter pulled away and dropped into one of the heavy plastic chairs that were bolted to the wall, his head in his hands. I sat next to him.

  “How’s Rachel?” I hated to interrupt his suffering, but I needed to know.

  “Not good.” He raised his liquid blue eyes to me. “She’s devastated.”

  “Do you think I can see her?”

  “I don’t think so. She asked me to leave. She wanted to be alone.”

  We remained in the waiting room for the next hour until we were given permission to see her.

  Rachel lay in bed, but she didn’t even acknowledge us when we entered. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling. When I spoke, she didn’t react.

  I didn’t understand how they handled it, how they experienced so much pain over and over again and didn’t give up trying. They had even picked out a name already. They always picked out a name.

  After a while, Peter broke down again and left the room so Rachel wouldn’t see him grieve.

  I took my sister’s hand in mine. “Rachel, sweetie.” I searched my mind for something else to say, but there was nothing. Sorry didn’t cut it anymore.

  The sound of her voice startled me. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it would happen again.” She moved her gaze from the ceiling to my face. “I thought this was it.”

  She used the same words every time she lost a baby. Each time she held out hope, and each time she was crushed in the end.

  “I can’t do this again,” she said, tightening her fingers around mine.

  Her words hit me hard because it was the first time on her quest to becoming a mother that she’d admitted defeat.

  I moved my forehead to hers and closed my eyes, offering her comfort with my actions instead of my words. I didn’t trust myself to speak, afraid that if I did, I would be unable to stop my tears. I did not want my grief to undermine hers.

  “Grace, I need you to do something for me,” she said.

  I opened my eyes and lifted my head. “Anything.”

  She blew out a breath. “This may be too much to ask, but I need your help.”

  “I’m your sister,” I said. “I want to help in any way I can.”

  It was a good thing that she was asking for help. Since we were sixteen and our parents died in a car accident, she’d always been there for me, acting like a big sister. Now it was my turn to take care of her.

  “Please, have the baby for us,” she said.

  I crashed into my living room and sat on the edge of the couch. My body vibrated with shock. What Rachel asked me to do for them was huge. It would mean a lot of things. It would change both our lives forever.

  Desperate to see the pain melt from her eyes, I had surprised both of us by saying yes. Now doubt clouded my mind.

  Did I make the right decision?

  There were so many things to consider.

  Chad, my long-term boyfriend, was one of them. He was on his way to see me right now. Over the phone, I had told him about what happened to Rachel and Peter, but I didn’t reveal the promise I made. I wanted to share that with him in person.

  When he arrived, I was a mess. He took me into his arms to comfort me. I had lost a niece, and I had the right to grieve. I didn’t say much as he warmed up some leftover pasta and put on a comedy, which I couldn’t focus on.

  After a while, I picked up the remote and switched off the TV.

  “Hey,” I said, turning my body to face him. “Rachel asked me to do something for her.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “She asked me to be their surrogate.”

  “Their what?” He swept the dark, wavy hair from his forehead to reveal his narrowed eyes. “Did you say surrogate?”

  “She’s lost so many babies. She can’t do this again. So, yes, she wants me to carry a baby for them.”

  Chad picked up his glass of water and downed it in one go, then he continued to glare at me.

  “Say something.” I held my breath and waited for him to speak. I had so many doubts now that I needed somebody to assure me I made the right decision.

  “What do you want me to say?” He peeled his dark gaze from me and picked up his glass again. He lifted it all the way to his lips, only to realize it was empty. He lowered it on the coffee table with a thud. “Tell me you’re not going to do it,” he said.

  I a
verted my gaze. “I—”

  “Grace, you’re not going to do it, are you?”

  “My sister suffered so much already. How could I say no?”

  His eyes darkened. “You already agreed to do it?”

  “Yes. I said yes.” After the word had crossed my lips, I couldn’t go back. Rachel was so happy, so relieved.

  “What were you thinking, Grace?” His face tightened with disbelief.

  “I was thinking that Rachel was in pain. She lost a baby. She needs my help.” Anger flared up inside my belly and poured out in words. “I was hoping you would understand.”

  “I do understand. I understand that you want to make your sister feel better.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But this is a big deal. This will change your life.” He grabbed both my shoulders. “You’re going to have a baby for somebody else. You’ll carry a baby for nine months, then you will give it away.”

  “Yes, that’s what surrogacy is. But that’s not what you’re concerned about. Am I right? You’re worried about us.” I took his hand. “Baby, if I do this, it won’t change our relationship.”

  Even as I said the words, I didn’t believe them.

  He got off the couch and walked to the window. When he turned to face me, his expression was hard, emotionless.

  “I love you,” he said. “I want a future for us, but you have to admit that this will complicate things.”

  “I love you too. But I couldn’t say no to her.”

  He rushed back to the couch, dropped to his knees, and grabbed my hands. “It can be undone. I’m sure she will understand if you change your mind. There are agencies out there that will help them connect with the right woman, someone who does this for a living.”

  “But no one would be as invested as I am in her happiness. I’m her sister.”

  I felt him pull away before he even withdrew his touch. “Don’t do it,” he said. “Don’t do this to us.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is my decision. I understand that it will affect you, and that’s why I will respect whatever decision you make after tonight.” I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I knew what I had to do. “I’ll do this for her, Chad.”

  “You didn’t even have enough time to think about it. You have no idea how you’ll feel about this in the morning.”

  He had a point. The next morning, I woke up feeling scared and overwhelmed by the promise I had given. But it was too late to back out. Rachel had called me several times from the hospital and sent endless messages to thank me. Even Peter had sent me a long email, telling me how happy I had made them.

  I couldn’t let them down. Chad had to understand.

  While brushing my teeth, another call came in from Rachel.

  “How are you feeling today?” I asked.

  “I’m all right. I just wanted to say—”

  “You don’t need to,” I cut her off. “No need to thank me again.”

  “I do. You don’t understand. What you’re doing for us means the world.” Her voice trembled with each word. “You have no idea.”

  “It’s okay. I want to do this because I love you. We’ve always been there for each other. Why stop now?” I let out a long breath. “Whatever you need me to sign, I’m ready.”

  Four

  Present

  As the plane rises higher in the skies above Miami International Airport, I close my eyes.

  I used to be a fan of flying. I loved the steady sounds of engines during a flight, the clinking of items touching on a beverage cart, the click of seatbelts locking into place. I looked forward to the cocktail of perfumes and colognes mixed with fresh coffee and food served to passengers. Anything that had to do with flying used to give me a rush.

  That was the Grace I used to be. Now a lot of things that used to appeal to me no longer have the same effect.

  I draw in a deep breath and wait for it to wash away any remnants of anxiety that had coursed through my veins in the past weeks, months, and years.

  The baby I’m carrying is not only a new start for the Thorpes but also for me.

  I rest my head against the leather headrest and close my eyes, only to open them again when his face appears behind my eyelids.

  I can’t think of him. Not now, not ever again.

  I grit my teeth, wishing I could keep the memories from following me to Wellice. I’m so tired of running from the past, trying to hide and knowing it won’t be long before the demons torment me again.

  To grow a healthy baby, I need to be in the right state of mind.

  I push my hand inside my handbag and touch the bottle of Xanax. I don’t pull it out. I don’t intend on taking any of the pills again, but it somehow makes me feel better knowing they’re there.

  I remind myself of how excited the Thorpes had looked when they found out I was pregnant, three months and three weeks ago. I can’t let them down. I can’t let myself down.

  No matter what happens, I will bring their baby into the world.

  I blink several times until my mind is clear, but sudden dizziness takes the place of anxiety.

  One of the flight attendants offers to bring me water.

  I wipe the sweat from my face and nod, and she places the cup into my hands. I take a couple of sips and imagine the stream flowing into my belly, where the baby is resting, protected until I bring it into the world.

  During the first months of my pregnancy, Marcia and Travis traveled back and forth between Wellice and Miami in order to be present for every checkup. Although some of the appointments were mandatory, they insisted I see a doctor at least once a week.

  I planned on moving to Wellice soon after I found out I was pregnant, but it was harder than I expected. It was not an easy task to leave everything I knew behind, even if it would only be for a few short months.

  “Are you okay?” the old lady next to me asks. “Your hands are shaking.”

  I glance at my hands and clasp them together. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  I try to force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

  The woman continues to stare at me as though expecting me to spill my secrets.

  Years ago, I used to be an outgoing person, someone who found it easy to strike up a conversation with a stranger. The skill had served me well in the magazine industry.

  That person is long gone.

  The woman gets back to her Miami Times, and I pull out my phone and read a text from Sydney. She sent it shortly after she dropped me off at the airport, but I didn’t get a chance to read it before now.

  Grace, I hope you find what you’re looking for.

  She’s still not on board with my decision, but she has come to respect it. When we were together, we avoided the topic completely. But my growing belly is getting hard to ignore. Maybe going away isn’t such a bad thing.

  I close my eyes again and squeeze them tight. Instead of thinking about the past, I force myself to focus on the future. I visualize myself giving birth to a healthy baby and handing it over to Marcia and Travis.

  Even though I’ve formed a friendship with Marcia, when the baby arrives, we’ll all go our separate ways. I wouldn’t want to be a constant reminder that she couldn’t bring her own baby into the world.

  Since there are no major airports in Wellice, Marcia will be picking me up from Tallahassee, which is only a thirty-minute drive to Wellice. I wanted to take the train, but they insisted I fly. Since they offered to pay for my ticket, I didn’t argue.

  A violent shake of the airplane forces me to open my eyes, but the pilot’s voice fills the cabin to assure us that it was only minor turbulence.

  Hopefully, there will be no more turbulence in my life after this.

  I knew from the start how desperate Marcia was to have a baby, but I had no idea just how obsessed she was.

  Everything about the house communicates that a baby is on the way.

  As I step out of her bronze Tesla, I’m met by the sight of a beautiful tree house with a river running past it. Hanging f
rom a different branch of the same tree is a swing covered with ivy and pink flowers wrapped around it.

  There’s even a pink trampoline on the grounds, ready for the new arrival. They seem to have two expectations, that the baby will be a girl and that it will come out of the womb already walking and ready to play.

  Aside from two old tool sheds, there are two other buildings on the property. The large one, which I suspect is the main house, is painted a soft shade of pink.

  “We had the house painted two weeks ago,” Marcia says to me.

  “Oh,” I say, my voice a touch too squeaky.

  I should be excited that they’re getting ready for the baby, but it’s so much pressure, a reminder that I have to deliver on this promise. I cannot mess up.

  Maybe Sydney was right. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for me to come to Wellice, after all. Hopefully, the incessant pressure won’t hurt the baby.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” I say, because I can see Marcia is waiting for compliments.

  “I do hope it’s a girl,” she says, smiling. “But whatever we get, we’ll still be grateful.” Marcia told me they don’t want to know the gender. They want it to be a surprise. “Come on, let me show you the rest of the house. If you think this is beautiful, wait until you see what I have to show you.”

  A few minutes later, we’re standing on the porch, between a pink and white rocking chair.

  As we enter the house, I’m expecting to see more baby paraphernalia, but there’s nothing. Thank God.

  The interior of the house hasn’t changed much since the last time I visited. It’s decorated with creams and whites. Expensive rugs cover the floors and Marcia’s abstract paintings grace the walls.

  Aside from being a model, Marcia is also a talented artist, with some of her paintings hanging in galleries around the country. But to be honest, the place looks more like a museum than a house.

  The living room alone is larger than the apartment I moved out of, and one entire wall is made of glass that overlooks the serene gardens with sweeping lawns, lush trees and bushes, and boxwood parterres surrounded by bougainvillea, periwinkles, coneflowers and other flower types I don’t recognize.