The Family They Chose

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “Really?” Pam arched a brow, her blue eyes shining. “Anything you’d care to share?”

  For a moment, Olivia was tempted to tell her everything—well, almost everything—not about Derek’s bizarre suggestion that Olivia try to pass off another woman’s child as her own. Because essentially that’s what it would amount to if she allowed Chance to implant another woman’s egg in her body.

  The thought made her shudder, and that brought her to her senses. Despite how good it would feel to confide in a friend right now, until she heard the New Year’s Eve prognosis, she needed to keep everything to herself.

  “Oh, nothing exciting, but you know I’ll tell you as soon as there’s news.”

  Just then the door opened and two of the saddest little boys Olivia had ever seen walked in hand in hand. Both had mops of glossy dark hair and large, haunted brown eyes.

  The larger of the two stood slightly in front of his younger brother, in a protective stance.

  Karen Cunningham from DCF stood behind them. “Good morning, I have a very special delivery for you. This is Kevin.” She gestured to the older brother. “And this little guy is Danny.”

  “Hello, boys. I’m Pam, and this is Mrs. Mallory. We want you to know you are very welcome here.”

  The boys gaped at her but remained silent.

  “You make yourselves right at home,” Pam said. “Mrs. Mallory is here for you while Mrs. Cunningham and I go take care of some paperwork.”

  Olivia knelt in front of the boys.

  “Hi, guys. Now, tell me again, which one of you is Kevin and which one is Danny?”

  “I’m Kevin,” said the older brother. “I’m seven years old.”

  Olivia offered her hand to the boy. “Hi, Kevin. You can call me Olivia, if you’d like.”

  Kevin shook her hand like a little man, much too grown up for his age.

  “He’s Danny, he doesn’t talk because he’s special.”

  “Hi, Danny.” She offered her hand to the smaller boy just as she’d done for the older brother, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he started rocking back and forth, paying no attention to Olivia.

  “He’s sad because our mommy and daddy got killed in a real bad car wreck.”

  Kevin’s lower lip quivered and for a moment Olivia thought he might cry. She was surprised when he didn’t.

  She took his hand in hers again. “Kevin, it’s okay to cry. I know you must be very sad, too. Just like Danny is.”

  Still holding Olivia’s hand, Kevin focused on a spot somewhere over her shoulder and didn’t let down his guard.

  Olivia squeezed his hand. “Well, I want you to know I think you’re very brave, but even the bravest men in the world cry sometimes. And that’s okay.”

  Suddenly, Danny stepped forward, reached and touched Olivia’s pearl necklace.

  “Duck!” said Danny.

  Kevin grabbed his brother’s hand and held it.

  “Don’t touch, Danny.”

  “Duck!” Danny repeated.

  Olivia gazed down into his little upturned face and smiled. She pointed at her necklace. “These are pearls, Danny.”

  Kevin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him. He’s still going to call it a duck, because that’s what he thinks it is. I told you, he’s special and he doesn’t know any better.”

  Olivia nodded and gave Kevin a conspiratorial wink. “That’s good to know. If he wants to call it a duck, then this can be my…duck. Say, Kevin, do you and Danny like cookies? I just made some. They’re in the kitchen. Why don’t we go get some?”

  Kevin’s face shuttered again.

  “My mommy doesn’t let us eat cookies between meals.”

  His little bottom lip trembled again, but he raised his chin a notch and refocused on his spot over Olivia’s shoulder.

  Her heart was breaking for these two sweet boys. She was about to tell Kevin that she was sure his mother wouldn’t mind just this once, and praise him for following her rules, when Danny’s hand snaked out again and grabbed a hold of Olivia’s necklace.

  “Duck!” he yelled, and gave them a firm yank.

  His grasp was far stronger than she might have imagined because the necklace broke. If not for the individual knots between each pearl, the necklace might have scattered all over the floor. Instead, the broken strand held together in a limp line trailing down Danny’s arm.

  “Danny! No!” reprimanded Kevin.

  He turned to Olivia. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Please don’t be mad at him. Please—”

  With that, his voice broke and he dissolved into a heap of full-body sobs.

  Reflexively, Olivia gathered him in her arms and held him while he cried on the shoulder of her blue suit.

  Rubbing his back, she said, “I’m not mad. It was just a silly old duck anyway. I can get it fixed later.”

  Pam and Karen rushed in to see what all the commotion was about, but Olivia waved them away. She was no expert, but instincts told her that now that Kevin was finally letting down his guard, now that he was finally allowing himself to feel his loss, the last thing he needed was an audience gawking at him.

  As he continued to sob on her shoulder, she mouthed to them, It’s okay. He’ll be fine. Hesitant, they retreated to Pam’s office, throwing concerned glances Olivia’s way as she rubbed the boy’s back in slow, circular motions.

  Of all people, she understood the loss he was grappling with—only in reverse. She’d had a hard time processing the sense of loss she felt, not being able to get pregnant. The loss—or empty spot—in her life that Jamison’s and her child was supposed to occupy. It felt like a gaping hole in the place where her heart beat. Some days she wanted to sob on someone’s shoulder, too, but instead, like Kevin, she’d chosen the stoic path.

  She pulled the weeping boy closer. Holding him, for the first time ever, she felt that gaping hole begin to close.

  “Duck?” Danny murmured.

  “Duck,” she whispered, smiling at him through her own unshed tears.

  Once the boys were settled in the dining room at the table enjoying milk and cookies with the other Children’s Home residents, Olivia and Pam retreated into Pam’s office.

  Pam slid in behind her desk and Olivia claimed the chair facing it.

  “Here’s the report from Danny’s doctor.” She nudged a slim stack of papers across her desk toward Olivia. “Karen filled me in on Danny’s condition. Apparently, he was recently diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and he had just started speech and behavior therapy before the holidays.”

  Olivia skimmed the report. “So, he’s not enrolled in school yet?”

  Pam shook her head. “He just turned three in November and I believe they were waiting until after the first of the year to enroll him in a public school exceptional educational program. But with all that’s happened, we’re going to have to talk to his doctor and see what he suggests is the best course of action. The little guy has had so much to digest, losing his parents and all, that I’m not certain starting him in a new program right away will be the best thing.”

  The fifteen other kids who lived at the Children’s Home were all in school. That meant Danny would need someone to look after him during the day. Pam would have to bring in one of the part-time employees to help out. It would further tax the organization’s already stretched budget.

  “I can come in a couple of days a week to help out,” Olivia offered. She wished she could offer more—for one quick, insane moment, she was about ready to offer for Danny and Kevin to come live with her. But it was an irrational thought. Completely emotional and off the cuff. With her steady lineup of doctor’s appointments, she’d be lucky to be able to give Pam two solid days of help per week.

  Her heart was breaking for the boys. She wanted to ease their grief and give them…a home. But what would happen once her baby arrived? Reflexively, she slid a hand over her stomach.

  She couldn’t adopt them. No, it was best to let the boys get
settled into their new home. That was the right thing to do.

  Even so, why did leaving them here feel completely wrong?

  Chapter Eight

  Three days later, Olivia awoke early and placed yet another call to Jamison. It was New Year’s Eve and she’d been trying to reach him for the past two days. All the calls went to voice mail, and he had yet to return a single call.

  As she’d done at least a dozen times already, she left yet another message.

  “Jamison, it’s me. I don’t understand why you’re not calling me back. I’m worried.”

  What she didn’t say, despite the urge, was that it was six o’clock in the morning and she couldn’t reach him at home, the office or on his cell.

  What was with this sudden change in him? Just a few days ago, everything seemed so good. Now here she was, wondering not only if her husband was letting business preempt their plans, but also if maybe he was going to stand her up altogether.

  No. He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

  In the months that they’d been separated, he’d never gone more than a day without calling her. And he’d certainly never let her calls go unanswered. She didn’t understand the sudden change in him, which sent her into another spiral of panic that maybe something was wrong.

  She had no choice but to call McInerney to make sure Jamison was okay. She got his voice mail, too.

  “Cameron, hello, this is Olivia. I’m trying to reach my husband. When you talk to him, will you please ask him to call me? Thank you.”

  She hung up the phone in disbelief. All the worry and anxiety on top of this being the day that Dr. Demetrios would have her test results.

  Nervous, she brewed herself a cup of cinnamon apple tea and took the delicate china cup upstairs to the window seat in the master bedroom.

  The cold December air seeped in through the windowpanes. From her perch on the third floor, she could see across Commonwealth Avenue, over the tops of the stately trees that lined the street where she lived, straight into Public Garden. The garden and adjacent Boston Common were an oasis in the heart of densely populated downtown Boston. A sanctuary laced with gorgeous statues, it was a haven even in the dead of winter.

  Olivia pressed her hand to the glass and the cold bit her palm, as if it were taunting her. When she and Jamison had purchased the house, proximity to the lovely park was one of the things that completed their dream house. Since the day they’d moved in, Olivia had fantasized about arranging long playdates at the park for their children, and spending leisurely Sunday afternoons on a picnic blanket while Jamison tossed the football with their kids.

  The ringing phone startled her from her reverie and she spilled hot tea on herself as she stumbled for the phone.

  Finally, she thought as she grabbed up the receiver.

  “Jamison?”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line before a male voice—not Jamison’s—said, “Good morning, Mrs. Mallory. This is Cameron McInerney. I hope I’m not calling too early, but I see on my call log that you called a few moments ago.”

  “Yes, I did. Is Jamison okay?”

  Another pause. “Yes, ma’am, he’s fine. In fact, he asked me to call you and let you know that his flight gets in at six this afternoon. He will be home shortly thereafter.”

  Confused as to why Cameron was calling her rather than her husband taking the time to do so, Olivia paced as she listened.

  “Cameron, I appreciate your call, but why isn’t Jamison calling me himself? I have been leaving messages for days.”

  Again, Cameron paused a few beats too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t know, ma’am. I’m simply relaying the message he asked me to deliver.”

  When they hung up, a chill seemed to permeate the air. Something wasn’t right. Despite how she tried to blame her uneasiness on nerves over her appointment with Dr. Demetrios, Olivia knew she was justified being upset with Jamison.

  Couldn’t he even spare five minutes to call her himself?

  At least he still planned to be home this evening, and she had a doctor’s appointment to get ready for. Right now she needed to use every ounce of energy to prepare herself for the news Chance Demetrios had waiting for her.

  News that was going to change her life…one way or another.

  Olivia paused in the threshold of Paul’s office and knocked lightly on the door frame. Her brother scowled up at her from the open magazine on his desk, Northeastern Journal of Medicine. When he saw her, he closed the magazine and changed his expression in a flash.

  “Well, hello! Look who it is.” His voice rang with cheer, and if she hadn’t seen the annoyance on his face a moment ago, she might have believed nothing was wrong.

  “I’m a little early for my follow-up with Chance, and I thought I’d stop by and say hi,” she said. “I don’t mean to disturb you.”

  He drummed his fingers on his desk.

  “Of course you’re not disturbing me. Come in. Please.” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.

  “What are you reading?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “It sure looked like something judging by the way you were scowling. Is everything okay?”

  He breathed an exasperated sigh and raked a hand through his curly, dark hair. In that moment of letdown, she could see the dark circles under his brown eyes. He looked exhausted.

  Olivia reached out across the desk and touched his arm. “What is it, Paul?”

  He shook his head. “I might as well tell you now, because it’s likely to come out in the near future.”

  Paul hesitated and held up the issue of the medical journal he’d been reading when she walked in.

  “The institute is teetering on the brink of a public relations disaster. It’s a nightmare, Liv. A ticking time bomb that could explode in our faces if we don’t act fast and smart.”

  She’d never seen her brother look so distressed, not in all the years since he’d picked up the Armstrong reins and started running the fertility institute that his father had dedicated his life to building.

  “What’s going on?”

  Paul cleared his throat. “This periodical ran a story saying that the institute used donor eggs and sperm to impregnate many wealthy couples.”

  “Right, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s what you do here.”

  Paul frowned. “They alleged that some of the couples were unaware of the substitutions. That they thought they were impregnated with their own sperm and eggs.”

  A cold wave of shock slapped her, and Olivia’s blood turned to ice. That sounded exactly like what Derek had suggested she do. Except he’d told her. He hadn’t tried to do the substitution behind her back. Though he’d urged her to lie to her husband in exactly that same way.

  Oh, my God. “Paul, forgive me, but I have to ask. Is the allegation true?”

  Her brother pulled a face. “Of course it’s not true. I can’t believe you’d think for even one second that it would be.”

  She felt queasy watching her brother in such distress. His identity was so closely tied to the institute that if one questioned the business practices, they were essentially questioning his personal integrity.

  Paul took pride in his scrupulously clean record. Derek, however, was altogether another animal. It was amazing how twin brothers could be such polar opposites.

  Slow simmering anger roiled in the pit of her stomach as Derek’s suggestion rang her ears. There was no way she could tell Paul that Derek had essentially offered her the same arrangement.

  No, if she told him, World War Three would erupt.

  Even so, the longer she thought about it, the more she wondered if there was, perhaps, some truth to the allegation…brought on by Derek’s doings.

  Somehow, she managed to ask, “What are you going to do about it?”

  Paul sighed. “It’s tricky. Right now, only two minor medical journals have run the story. None of the mainstream news outlets have picked up on it—yet. Our attorneys have
threatened to slap the publishers with libel suits, because they presented no hard proof.”

  But she had proof. Right from Derek’s mouth.

  “The problem is,” he continued, “if we file, it’s likely to let the cat out of the bag. Reporters are always trolling the court dockets. They could easily get wind of the case that way.”

  Olivia scooted forward in her seat. “They’re going to print a retraction, aren’t they? They have to, since they have no proof.”

  Uncertainty clouded his expression. “That’s another dangerous catch twenty-two. On one hand, it would be vindicating to have them admit in the pages of their own journals they were wrong. However, they’d probably bury the retractions in a places where they would go unnoticed. Besides, rehashing only gives new life to the story. Every day that the story goes unnoticed by the mass media means there’s less of a possibility that it’ll be discovered and broadcast to the world. So, a retraction could do more harm than good in the long run.”

  Olivia’s mind swirled with doubt over whether she was doing the right thing by keeping the secret from Paul. But no, no, she had to talk to Derek first. As she stood to go, she asked, “So, you’re not going to do anything except hope it’ll die a quick, silent death?”

  Paul nodded.

  “Unless the story explodes in the mass media. Heaven forbid, but if that happens we’ll slap libel suits on both journals faster than they can say shoddy reporting. In the meantime, we’re putting together a crisis PR plan that we hope we won’t have to use.”

  “I’m with you on that,” she said as she edged toward the door. “I hope you don’t have to use it. Listen, I’m sorry this has happened. Please keep me posted, okay? But I have to go.”

  Olivia glanced at her watch as she made her way through the institute’s empty halls. She had ten minutes until her appointment. Just enough time to have a chat with Derek.

  So the institute had come under fire for egg swapping? And Paul was claiming it wasn’t true?

  Paul, she knew, was as ethical and squeaky clean as they came. She couldn’t say that much for her other brother, though. If he smelled money or a way to feather the nest, the ethics line blurred.