"Of course we can't begin to express our regrets for the mix-up," Dr. Crombie said, straightening his shirt, which was bunched where Jack had grabbed it.
Jack backed off from both men, and said, with irony, "You can't begin to express your regrets? Do you have any idea what's happened because of your mix-up? This woman's carrying my child," he said pointing a finger at Grace, "and this woman's carrying the child of her dead husband," he said pointing first at Susan, then at Grace. "Do you have any idea what the ramification of that is, beyond the monetary settlement I'm certain you gentlemen have waiting in those envelopes?"
"It was an unfortunate mistake," Dr. Crombie said, in a repentant voice.
"An unfortunate mistake that could result in the death of a child because the baby my sister-in-law is carrying has no chance of being a genetic match because her son's illness is passed through the male line. That's how unfortunate your damn mistake is!" Jack barked.
Grace pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes, hoping she might emerge from a bad dream. She'd awaken to find everything as before. Marc hadn't died of cancer. They were expecting their baby in five weeks. He was a fine, healthy baby boy. But when she opened her eyes, Jack was staring at her, as if absorbing the reality of it at the same time as she.
She was carrying his child. A child that came to her because of a mistake. Just like her parents predicted the whole artificial insemination idea would be, although they'd been opposed to it because they wanted her to get on with her life, not have the child of a dead man. But her life was Marc's child. Or had been. Until now.
The baby inside her turned, and what felt like a foot moved against Grace's belly, drawing a gasp from her, along with the feeling that she had to go to the bathroom. Pushing her chair back, she stood and felt herself swaying.
Jack came around the table and took her elbow. "You'd better sit down," he said.
"I can't," Grace replied. "I have to go." She started to pull away from him.
His fingers remained on her elbow. "Go where?"
She looked at him, miffed. "To the bathroom, if it's any of your business."
"I'll walk with you then." He edged her toward the door.
"I don't need your help," Grace snapped.
"You're carrying my son and you're unsteady on your feet so I'll walk with you," the man said, his hand still clamped to her arm.
Grace snatched her elbow from his grasp. "I may be carrying your son because of no fault on either of our parts, but you have no claim on him just because you deposited semen in a cup. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom since my son is resting on my bladder." She started down the hallway.
"Depositing semen in a cup holds as much sway in determining parenthood as sexual intercourse," Jack said, following behind. "I'm still your child's biological father."
Grace stopped in front of the restroom and turned to face the man. "I'm afraid your legal claim begins with the false assumption that a mix up at a fertility clinic equals a sort of quasi-property claim, when in fact, you have absolutely no claim on the child I'm carrying." She marched into the restroom and shut the door, locking it quickly to keep the man from coming in. She was certain it wouldn't bother him in the least to carry on an argument with a pregnant woman sitting on a toilet.
After she'd finished, Grace took more time than necessary to wash her hands, hoping Jack would have returned to the conference room, but to her annoyance, he was waiting when she opened the door. "I have a biological right to be connected with my son," he continued on the same treadmill. "If necessary, I'll sue to establish paternal rights."
"And I know about artificial insemination rights and they favor the mother," Grace snapped, although she knew nothing at all about insemination law. But she did know that this man would not be telling her how to raise her son. She quickened her pace.
Jack matched her strides while ramming his point home. "Oregon law doesn't favor the mother if the man is a father without consent," he said, "and whereas I gave up my rights to my brother and sister-in-law, I never gave up my rights to a stranger!"
"Then get used to the idea," Grace said, "because that's the way it's going to be!"
"The hell it is!"
Damn, but the man was persistent. So much for Marc's jovial personality. Grace stopped and turned, her eyes sweeping down the length of the man, returning to his face. Which had nothing of Marc's blond hair and blue eyes.
Tears welled, and before she could stop herself, she burst out crying. Jack put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. "Don't touch me," she sobbed. "Because of you my child won't look anything like my husband." She raced back into the restroom, closing herself inside until she was exhausted from crying. After pressing a wet paper towel against her eyes, and blotting another to her face, she blew her nose, then sucked in a long breath to steady her nerves, and prepared to face the father of her child. And the parents of Marc's child.
When she reentered the conference room, she sat at the table while avoiding Jack's stare by focusing on the attorney, who was saying to Sam, "Under Oregon Artificial Insemination Law, a man married to an artificially inseminated woman is the legal father, so the child your wife is carrying is your legal child."
"And the child Mrs. Templeton's carrying," Jack asked. "Who is that child's legal father?"
"It can be difficult for a sperm donor to establish paternity if the mother doesn't want him involved, since being a donor usually implies the man giving up all rights," the attorney replied, "but if you want to claim paternal rights you should submit a Notice of Intent to Claim Paternity with your district court, which demonstrates your willingness to be involved with your child, then file a Notification of Filing a Petition of Filiation. Filing documents establishes you as the father, if the mother doesn't contest it, which will pave the way for visitation and custody. Child support will also be determined."
Grace caught Jack's eye long enough to realized that filing the papers the attorney mentioned was exactly what he intended to do. Which meant, she'd be forced to get an attorney to contest it. She also realized she had absolutely no claim on Marc's child, who was conceived with sperm that belonged to her alone. But Marc had turned in only one sample, so now she would never be able to conceive his child.
Her attention was diverted when the attorney offered the envelopes around the table. There would be a check inside, like Jack predicted. How much would the loss of Marc's child be worth? And how much was the life of Sam and Susan's child worth? And Jack? He'd given up all rights to Susan and Sam, but now he was prepared to fight in court for the right to intercede in raising her child, and make her life miserable.
Holding that thought, Grace opened the envelope and stared at a check for fifty-thousand dollars. At first she was tempted to take the check and walk out, but when Sam slapped his check on the table in front of the attorney, and Jack tore his up and tossed the pieces in the air, she reconsidered. The fact was, four people had been thrown into an impossible situation created by human error, and no amount of money could fix it.
And then the sharpest pain Grace could imagine gripped low in her belly. She clenched her jaws, but when the pain subsided, she lifted herself out of the chair, grabbed her handbag, dragged her quilted down jacket from the back of the chair and left the room. Although she was unsteady on her feet, she was determined to drive herself home on snow-covered roads, call the birthing center, and crawl into bed. She had no idea what caused the pain, other than distress over the situation. Feeling lightheaded as she walked through the waiting room, she dropped her jacket on a chair and sat down, then closed her eyes and waited for the room to settle.
"Are you okay?"
She didn't have to open her eyes to know who that was. "Yes. I'm just a little dizzy," she said, continuing to sit with her eyes closed.
"Where are you going?" Jack asked.
"Home," Grace replied. "Now will you please just leave me alone."
"How did you get here?"
> "I drove!" Grace snapped, wishing the man would go.
"You can't drive if you're dizzy," Jack said. "I can drive you to your house and my brother can pick me up there."
Another pain started. Grace gripped her belly, clamped her jaws, took several deep breaths, and waited for the pain to pass. Knowing there was no way she could drive on snowy roads, and anxious to get out of this place and crawl into bed, she eyed the man closely. He had an honest face, his brother and sister-in-law seemed like decent people, and he had donated sperm to save his critically-ill nephew.
Feeling another pain coming, she clenched her teeth and waited until it passed, then said, "I suppose that would be okay." She rummaged in her hand bag for the keys and gave them to Jack, who shoved them into the pocket of his sheepskin parka and left the room to tell the others what was going on. When he returned, he offered Grace his arm, which she accepted, and when she was steady on her feet, he helped her into her jacket then walked with her out into the cold. Snow had started falling heavily while they were in the clinic and it was building up quickly on the roads, and she was relieved she wouldn't have to drive.
"Where's your car?" Jack asked.
"There." Grace pointed to her VW Bug, just outside the clinic.
After helping Grace into the passenger seat, Jack folded his large frame behind the wheel, then adjusted the driver's seat as far back as it could go, and said, "Where to?"
Grace couldn't answer because another pain had started, nor could she stop the grimace, or the need to clutch her belly.
"We need to get you to the hospital," Jack said.
"No, just drive me home so I can get in bed. Ohhh... umm." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and held it as the pain peaked. When it began to subside, she said, "Turn right out of the parking lot and I'll direct you to my house."
Jack shoved the key in the ignition, started the car, and turned left.
"Where are you going?" Grace asked. "My house is the other way."
"But the hospital's this way."
"I'm not going to have this baby in a hospital," Grace said. "I'm having him at home."
"Not if you're having him right now," Jack replied. He geared down, made a sharp turn, and shot forward, veering around a car as he headed toward the on-ramp to the freeway.
Grace gritted her teeth, not from the pain, but from the stubbornness of a man she hadn't known existed two hours before, who was now the father of her child. A man who seemed determined to be a part of her life, at least until Marc Jr. was eighteen.
It hit her then that she was not carrying Marc Jr. There was nothing of her husband in the child in her belly, and she knew nothing about the father of her child, other than he was the size of a mountain man, and his child was the size of a mountain man's son. Tears welled, and she turned her head away from Jack so he couldn't see.
"It's going to be okay," Jack said, and reached over to squeeze her hand.
Which shocked her so much Grace jerked her hand away, using the gesture as an excuse to mop her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "Pregnant women get emotional. And for heaven 's sake, slow down. There's snow on the road."
"You have studded tires and I'm used to driving on snow," Jack said, while weaving around a car to get into the fast lane. "We need to get you to the hospital. How do you feel now?"
"I feel like screaming because you're so bullheaded," Grace said. "I asked you to slow down and you shot forward. I'm not in labor, I don't need to go to the hospital, and I want to go home and get in bed."
Jack pulled off at the next exit, cruised along the frontage road, and turned into the emergency access to Portland General Hospital, pulling to a halt at the entrance. A nurse came out with a wheelchair and opened the door. "Come on, honey," she said, seeing Grace's large belly. "We'll get you inside and have the doctor take a look." She poked her head in the car and said to Jack, "There's emergency parking to your left." The nurse helped Grace into the wheelchair and they headed through the automatic glass doors.
"He's not my husband," Grace explained as the nurse wheeled her into the curtained cubicle of an examination room.
"Is he the father of your child?" the nurse asked.
"Well yes." Another sharp pain hit, this time stronger, longer.
"Let's get you into a hospital gown," the nurse said, helping Grace onto the exam table.
Grace didn't reply, because the pain had not let up. She started breathing the way she'd been taught in childbirth classes. In... and out... In... and out... In... and out...
"You okay?" the nurse asked. "You're breathing heavy."
"It's the way... we're taught... in childbirth... classes," Grace said, between breaths.
"Lemaze?"
"No... the... Bradley... Method." In... and out... In... and out.
"We have a natural birthing room here, and there are classes on the Bradley Method, and midwives on staff," the nurse said, while helping Grace out of her clothes. "A lot of couples choose the Bradley Method. It's good having fathers involved from the start, and when they aid in birthing by helping their infant into the world there's instant bonding. The mother also needs a strong hand to hold when hard labor hits."
"Yes, but in my case—" Grace stopped short as another sharp pain cut in. Between what she now realized were contractions, and while she continued breathing as instructed, the nurse managed to get a hospital gown around her, and left.
While she lay on the table waiting for the doctor, Grace realized that even though the child she was carrying was not Marc's child, he was still her little boy, a child who'd been growing inside her for seven and a half months, and who's heart was beating strongly, and little foot was pressed against her belly, and tiny thumb had been in his mouth when she saw the ultrasound. And now it made no difference who his father was, she wanted her little boy more than she'd wanted anything in her life. But if he came into the world now, he'd have to struggle for his life because it was too soon.
Someone knocked and peeked around the curtain. "I'm here to check you in." A woman with a clipboard stepped into the room. After asking the necessary questions, and having Grace sign several forms, the woman snapped a plastic bracelet around Grace's wrist, and said, "Just relax, Mrs. Templeton. The doctor will be in soon," then left the room.
Grace had just recovered from another sharp pain when a nurse, and a doctor with a thick white mustache and the face of a kindly grandfather, entered the room. The doctor gave Grace a look of calm reassurance, and said, "Well, Mrs. Templeton, it seems someone's trying to make an early entrance. Let's take a look." The doctor positioned his hands on her belly just as a pain started. "Early labor," he mused. "Not Braxton-Hicks." After palpating her stomach, he placed Grace's feet in the stirrups and draped a sheet over her.
He had just finished the pelvic exam and removed her feet from the stirrups when the nurse, who'd wheeled Grace into the hospital and helped her into her gown, entered the room and said, "Dr. Irwin, this is the baby's father. They've been attending birthing classes, the Bradley Method.
"Come on in, young man," the doctor said.
Before Grace could protest, another pain hit hard.
And Jack walked into the room. "Is she in labor?" he asked the doctor.
"He's not my... " Grace was about to say husband, but the contraction grew in intensity and her words were cut off, replaced by a sharp groan accompanied by a grimace of pain. She started breathing in... and out... In... and out... In... and out...
Jack reached out and took her hand, and said, "Squeeze until the contraction passes." He looked at the doctor. "She's not going to deliver now is she?"
"We'll do our best to stop things," the doctor said. "The kind of contractions your wife is having are causing her cervix to open earlier than normal, which can result in a premature baby."
Grace waved her hand to tell the doctor she wasn't Jack's wife, but catching the glint of diamonds in her wedding rings, she decided it was pointless to go into a diatribe about artificial insemination
and mislabeled vials and embarrass the doctor.
Jack's no different than the nurse or the doctor, she told herself, as she clutched Jack's hand while breathing in and out as the pain continued to hold. Strangers have been delivering babies for centuries, cab drivers, policemen, firemen.
Except this stranger was the father of her son, and his child could be minutes away from making his entry into the world.
"Her membranes are intact," the doctor said. "With rehydration there's a good chance the labor can be stopped, but she'll need complete bed rest, and she'll have to keep her legs elevated."
"What are you going to do to stop it?" Jack asked, clearly concerned, which Grace found odd because Jack was a single man, yet he seemed uncommonly attached to his unborn son when most men in his situation would be running the other way.
"We'll start her on an I-V of magnesium sulfate," the doctor replied. "In many cases, rehydrating and keeping the mother on her side is enough to stop premature labor. She'll be here for a few hours. The longer the baby's in the womb, the less chance for the child to have brain and other neurological complications, as well as breathing problems. Your wife should stay on bed rest until the pregnancy progresses some... at least a couple of weeks."
"I can't just stay in bed—" Grace let out a long groan as another contraction started.
"Squeeze as hard as you want," Jack said.
As Grace gripped his hand, she looked up at Jack, whose face showed apprehension and compassion, and as bizarre as it was, now she wanted him to stay. The thought that somebody, other than herself, actually cared about the baby she was carrying had tears misting her eyes. Jack put his other hand on her forehead and held it there, and she gave him a wavering smile.
As the contraction began to subside, the doctor, who'd been waiting for it to pass, said to Jack, "You ever help deliver a baby before?"
Jack took so long to reply, Grace looked up at him, and when she did she saw a look so intense, and distant, she wondered again if he'd faced some heartbreak, maybe been present when his brother's child was delivered and they learned things weren't right.
Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) Page 2