"I knew he'd get wasted." I mumble.
"Bastard deserved to be dethroned. This town has idolized him for far too long."
"Yeah, but he doesn't see it that way. If he hadn't broken his leg his senior year, he would have been recruited to play college ball. Between that and the pregnancy scare ...” The memories of him cursing me for ruining his plans. His need to take care of me because we thought I'd gotten pregnant. Finding out I had a cyst on my ovaries that was causing false pregnancy tests was the best news I could've ever asked for.
Sarah reaches over and squeezes my hand. I glance at her, and she flashes an encouraging smile. "It wasn't your fault he turned into a worthless wife-beating drunk. He's an asshole, and you're the best person I've ever met. He never deserved you, Krista. You were always too good for him. Everyone knew it but you. The fact he was able to convince you otherwise ...” She tsks. "That only confirms how big of an asshole he really is."
She turns her attention back to the road, and we both fall silent for the rest of the ride. I take comfort in the heavy silence lingering in the car between us. I struggle with conversation these days. I have no idea who I am anymore and striking up a conversation is a chore I can no longer summon the energy for.
When we finally reach the bus station, Sarah parks and reaches into the back seat to hand me my disguise.
I pull my hair up into a tight bun and slide the chocolate brown wig over my head. It's styled in a blunt bob with bangs long enough to shadow my eyes, which I finger style until it looks natural.
Then I switch my things over to a bag she bought so any cameras that catch me walking through the station won't offer him a recognizable image. I jerk off my jacket and the rest of my clothes and change into the outfit she's brought for me. Even my shoes are discarded and swapped out for new tennis shoes.
When I'm finished changing, she reaches into her glove compartment and hands me a brown bag full of the cash I've been saving. I had hidden it beneath a loose wooden plank in the floor at work, and Sarah retrieved it for me at the end of her shift tonight.
I shove the five grand I've secretly saved over the years down into my new black bag and zip it closed. The debit card for my new checking account is in the bag as well. I’d had to open a new account for the surrogacy agent to deposit my funds into.
Sarah hands me a ball cap and a pair of black rimmed glasses that have clear non-prescription lenses in them. When I have the wig, cap, and glasses on, I turn to her. "Well, what do you think?"
She reaches over and adjusts the hat and my wig, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He'll never recognize you."
"Good. That's the point." I open the door and step out into the chilly night air.
"I can't believe you're leaving." Sarah walks around the car and gives me a brief hug and then steps back, tears glistening in her mocha eyes.
"It's time for me to take back my life." I tighten the strap of my backpack.
"Damn straight, it is." She laughs and swipes at a stray tear gliding down her rose-colored cheek.
I smile and then turn to head toward the bus station.
"Keep in touch," she calls out.
I don't turn back. If I do, it'll be too difficult to walk away.
As I board my bus, it finally starts to settle in. This is it ... I'm leaving it all behind.
"This one is mine." I gesture to the seat beside the lady in the aisle seat then squeeze past her to take my place next to the window. I slide my bag beneath my seat, my one and only bag. It's sad to think that this was all I was able to sneak out of the house, but in the same sense, it's everything that means anything to me. The rest can rot.
I haven't bought an outfit in ten years that he didn't choose for me. I haven't worn makeup since I graduated high school because he said it made me look like a cheap whore. For so long, I have lived under his control, and for the first time in over a decade, I feel free.
As the bus takes off into the night, I look out at the lights of a home I will never return to. I take a deep, relaxing breath.
"Goodbye," I whisper.
I blow my hot breath on the window pane and draw a heart. The only thing I'll miss about North Carolina is my mother’s gravesite. It's the one place where I could go and discuss my life without fear of being judged. Jay never visited the cemetery, and for that, I was grateful. That one small reprieve was my solace in life.
Maybe once I get to Chicago and meet the doctor whose child I'm to carry, I'll find a peace that even the cemetery couldn't grant me.
For the first time in I can’t remember how long, a bubble of hope weaves through my weary body. Hope––to actually dream for a better life. It's a concept that I didn't think I'd ever have for myself. Whoever this doctor is, he can't possibly understand how much this opportunity means to me. The depth of my gratitude will know no bounds. I'll do everything I can to provide him the perfect baby.
Speaking of ... I bend over and pull his profile from my bag. Sarah printed everything out for me at the library computer since I wouldn't dare give Jay a link to where I was going.
Basic Information
Name: Dr. William Scott
Age: 37
Religious Affiliations: None
Health Issues: None
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 205 lbs.
Occupation: Cardiologists
Relationship Status: Widower
Personal Profile
Dr. Scott is seeking a surrogate of good health, young age, and no personal commitments to carry his child. Mr. Scott requires the surrogate to reside at his home during the pregnancy and to receive all prenatal care from Abigail Scott-Linsey OB/GYN.
I stare at the picture stapled to the back of the lengthy contract following his profile. His hazel eyes seem to carry the weight of the world within his intense gaze. I don't know how, or when his wife passed away, but the tightness of his features and severity of his expression eludes to a man who walks through life with an element of detachment. But before I pass further judgment on the man, I need to meet him and see if his eyes really do convey the depth of despair I sense awaits me.
I begin to wonder what the next ten to eleven months will hold for me. The agency explained that the first month will consist of examinations and preliminary work before the actual implantation takes place. They made it all sound so cold and clinical. But the fact of the matter is that I'm going to be pregnant with someone else's child. And even though the baby will not biologically be mine, I'm still going to be carrying a baby that I know I'll grow to care for.
When I asked the lady at the agency if Mr. Scott would allow contact with the baby after its birth, she said that Mr. Scott had expressly forbid contact after the birth.
I don't know how I feel about that, but I'm willing to take the risk anyway. I'll just have to close myself off emotionally until the baby is born and I can collect the remainder of my fee and start a new life.
At that thought, I close my eyes and envision myself painting in front of a classroom filled with children. A smile creeps across my face as I sink further into the dream and a much-needed nap.
Chapter Five
Will
It's been four weeks since I signed the contract for a surrogate to carry mine and Sophia's embryo.
Four.
Long.
Weeks.
I've contemplated withdrawing from the contract. And even though we've officially passed the negotiation phase, I find myself questioning my loyalty to my wife and the love we shared. I've looked over Ms. Murphy's profile nearly every day since I left the agency. I've stared at her profile picture and wondered what the hell I was doing nearly every time. As captivating as she appears to be in her picture, I haven't had another woman in my home or my apartment, other than my sister, since Sophia.
Sure, I've had a couple of one-night stands to take the sexual edge off, but that's always taken place in a hotel and never in my place of residence. Our
home was our sanctuary. Sophia decorated every square foot of that house, and it feels like I'm betraying the sanctity of that by allowing another woman to live there. But I know it's unreasonable of me to expect her to reside in a hotel the entire duration of her pregnancy. It would also make me a callous ass to insist such a thing.
And still, I sit here sipping my bourbon, completely lost in my thoughts about the complexities of the monumental undertaking I'm about to endeavor and whether or not I'm strong enough to weather the emotional storm this will bring about.
With that thought in mind, I press play on the remote and sit back to watch my wedding video. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment because when her face appears on the screen, I begin to crumble inside.
Sophia had never looked so radiant than on our wedding day. Her smile beamed with a joy that the weight of the world couldn't hold back. Her eyes sparkled with love as she gazed adoringly into my eyes and our vows were exchanged.
I watch with baited breath as she says the words that sealed my heart to all but her.
"I do." Her words echoed throughout the room with a resounding applause and cheering from our friends and family.
I can't help it ... a stricture of emotion tightens around my throat, rendering me breathless and choking back the grief that threatens to tear me in half.
Her eyes ... her light green eyes ... her hair ... a rich chocolate brown mass of silky curls that I would give my last breath to run my fingers through again.
"Sophia …" I choke out in a harsh whisper. Tears begin to stream down my face as the video segues to our first dance as husband and wife. My arms wrapped around her possessively as she looked up into my eyes and mouthed the words, “I love you.”
Like a fractured window shattered by the flick of a pebble, my emotions overwhelm my sense of control and I begin to sob uncontrollably at the sight her saying those precious words. The words that meant more to me than anything else.
I hunch over and wrap my arms around myself, feeling as if I'm coming apart from the inside out. Raw and unbearable pain crashes over my entire being. My soul dies a little more with every word that passes over her lips and echoes through my heart like an earthquake, splintering my long-held control.
"I just want to thank you all for sharing this momentous occasion with us today. I can't express to you how important it is to have our friends and family here to witness this joyous occasion. Today is the day that I married my best friend, my partner in life, my heart, and my soul mate." Sophia turned to me and kissed me gently.
Our eyes stayed locked on each other’s as she proudly declared her love to me. "I cannot put it into words what this man means to me. He's my other half. My best friend. My forever." She smiled, and I reached up to swipe a tear from her cheek. With the pad of my thumb, I caressed it away and then leaned down to kiss her.
Our friends and family cheered us on as I embraced the love of my life and kissed her with all that I was.
"Get a room!" Miles yelled, and everyone roared with laughter.
I reach over and grab the remote, turning it off. I don't know why I inflict this on myself. I've been staring at the DVD collection for two years and haven't once broken down and watched it.
Why now? Why today, of all days? In less than an hour, I'll be driving to the hotel to pick up Ms. Murphy. I'll finally finish a chapter in my life that Sophia and I started five years ago when we realized she had fertility issues. The journey to have a baby had been fraught with miscarriages and long nights holding her while she cried herself to sleep.
Then three embryos were created. Three chances at a baby. She had been beyond happy. She'd planned everything, right down to the color of the nursery, and the month she would deliver. April ... she wanted a spring baby. She thought spring was the sign of a new beginning, and she wanted to mark our new beginning with the birth of our child.
But it never happened. Two months after we were told the embryos were viable, she was gone. Ripped from this world and my heart.
And with her ... a piece of me died as well ... the very best of me. All that's left is a husk of a man, but if I'm to live my life the way Sophia would have wanted, then I have to go through with this.
"I know this is what you would have wanted, Soph. But it hurts so much to think of going through this without you." I whisper, more to myself than to the ghost of my wife that resides in my heart.
I drag myself up from the couch and make my way to the master bedroom to throw on the façade of togetherness when I'm feeling anything but.
Chapter Six
Kara
The past month has been a roller coaster for me. Test after test and what seemed like endless days at the fertility clinic. Everything had to be checked to make sure that I was a viable candidate to carry the Scott embryo. That's what I've come to call it. Or Baby Scott. I've thrown both titles around and both seem fitting at the moment.
I've struggled with whether or not I was getting in over my head, but after today, there's no going back. Mr. Scott is on his way to pick me up and take me for the IVF embryo transfer.
My bags are packed, and my outfit carefully selected. I'm not sure if my choice of clothing should even matter, but I'm about to meet the man who I'm to carry a child for. My nerves are a mess, my hands shaking, and the only thing I can seem to focus on is my outfit. I laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.
"Get it together. You can do this," I chant to myself as I grab my purse and take one last look at myself in the mirror.
My outfit is nice but comfortable. A knee-length blue cotton dress with a fitted waist, black leggings underneath it, and knee-high black heeled boots make up my ensemble for the day. I pull my burgundy pea coat from its hanger and drop my purse on the table while I put it on. I go to sweep my hair from under the coat and realize it's no longer there. My new shoulder length hairstyle barely lies just above my coat collar. The old habit brings a smirk to my face.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror as I pass by and the look on my face makes me pause a moment to take notice.
My blond hair is straight and gives the sharp angles of my cheeks a decidedly serious look. Normally, my hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I look as if I should be attending high school. But that's all behind me now, and I'm finally free to embrace the woman I've kept hidden all these years. The curves I've developed over the years no longer hidden beneath baggy and ill-fitting t-shirts. No—for once in my life I'm dressed to impress, and it feels damn good.
With a smile on my face and my chin held high, I make my way down to the hotel lobby and take a seat on a sofa next to the main entrance. I park my suitcase next to me and wait patiently for him to arrive. I'll be easy to spot when he comes in. The agency told me that he had a profile picture just as I did. So he's aware of what I look like. I guess that's one less thing to stress about.
I wore very little makeup today so that I would look more like the photo the agency presented to him. My haircut didn't change my appearance that drastically, but I didn't want to risk appearing too eager to be someone else by layering on the makeup as well.
It doesn't take long for him to arrive, and I spot him before he even makes it through the glass doors. He doesn't notice me at first, and I'm gifted those few moments to look him over without embarrassing myself.
Mr. Scott is a very nice looking man. Tall, athletically built, and a body that most women only dream of lying in bed with on a cold winter’s night.
He's wearing a dark gray suit with a navy blue tie and a black wool overcoat. He's the spitting image of a dignified man of wealth. But aside from that, he looks distant. A little removed from everything going on around him. His eyes take everything in with a calculating glance, but at the same time, it's as if he doesn't notice anyone around him.
He finally turns my way, his expression shifting to one of recognition. With long and purposeful strides, he makes his way over to me.
I stand and extend my hand in greeting. He takes it in
his and gives it a friendly shake, motioning the valet over with his other hand to take my luggage. "Have this sent to this address." He hands the valet a piece of paper and then turns back to me.
Nothing monumental happens at the touch of our hands. Sparks don't fly and my heart doesn't run away with itself like the typical heroine of a romance novel would. No, this is real life and not some fairy tale. This man is using me as a human incubator and all warm and fuzzy thoughts of passionate kisses and heated embraces fly out the window the moment he opens his mouth.
"Ms. Murphy, so glad to finally meet you." He releases my hand and causally tucks his into the pockets of his coat. "Shall we get this over with? I'm sure your nerves are as frayed as mine are."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry at his cold demeanor. My expression must give way to my thoughts because he immediately backtracks.
"Forgive me. That was incredibly rude." He gives me an apologetic look and then offers his arm to escort me out of the hotel.
"Forgiven. And yes, I'm as nervous as you are." I reluctantly take his proffered arm and allow him to escort me to his car that's waiting by the valet station outside.
A shiny black Mercedes SUV awaits us. I take my seat on the plush leather and squirm a little as the heated seats catch me by surprise.
It's February in Chicago, and the weather is still bitterly cold. Sweaters and jackets dot the bustling sidewalks as people commute to and from work on foot.
We pull away from the hotel and into the congested line of traffic. "Is it always like this?" I ask, none too shyly.
"I'm afraid so. Is this your first time in a big city?" He turns on his blinker and cuts in front of another driver to make the left turn in time.
I grip the armrests to catch my balance before reaching over to quickly secure my seat belt. A sideways glance tells me that he's already fastened in and didn't miss my scramble to buckle up, if the smirk on his face is any indication.
A Whisper Of Solace Page 3