Her Motherhood Wish

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  But that didn’t stop him from thinking about the damned situation all day long. He might not vividly recall everything he’d documented in that file of his, but he knew for certain he’d been completely honest. That was how he rolled.

  So, what, had she missed the education part? The career page? Was she hoping to find out he’d made more of himself in the time since he’d allowed his little fish to be frozen?

  Maybe she just wanted to get a firsthand, in-person peek at what her kid could turn out to look like.

  Yeah, and that didn’t sound like an urgent matter.

  More likely the woman was having second thoughts now that she was really pregnant. Though what she thought he could do about that, he didn’t know.

  Nah, no one would spend all that money, put herself through the insemination process, just to change her mind.

  As the afternoon wore on, he wondered what she looked like. Who she was.

  Wondered if she’d be anywhere near the strong but still gentle and loving mother who’d given birth to him and Peter. Raising two headstrong boys on her own after their father died of a heart attack when Wood was five.

  By quitting time, he’d run out of distractions. She’d be calling soon about an urgent matter. And he hoped to God it wasn’t to tell him that there was something wrong with her baby.

  That his sperm had given her a less-than-healthy child.

  Because he had no idea how to fix something like that.

  Chapter Two

  She had a tiny baby bump. Her sonogram included a video with gray shadows of moving arms and legs. Two healthy heartbeats. Hers and the baby’s.

  She’d only told the key players in her life—the partners in her law firm, her mom and stepdad, some friends—that she was pregnant.

  Cassie Thompson was going to have a baby. She was not going to let one dark spot on a piece of film control her life. Or stop her life. It might change her existence, but, as with anything, she’d deal with change as it happened.

  She’d known something was wrong. The look on the ultrasound technician’s face had changed from smiling and happy to neutral, her voice changing after the celebratory words as they found the heartbeat. Her morphing tone, which became more professional as she pointed out other body parts, had been telling. The woman had seen something on that screen and hadn’t been at liberty to verbalize what it might represent.

  Okay, so there’d been a few minutes the day before, after the ultrasound, when she’d first heard the doctor tell her that there was a shadow on the baby’s brain, indicating a possible blood abnormality, that Cassie had fallen apart. Then panicked. But she’d gotten a hold of herself. Called back to ask questions. And then spent the night as a single, capable, in-control thirty-four-year-old corporate lawyer would—researching every piece of writing on fetal blood disorders she could find so that she had every base covered. Taking a break or two to hug the teddy bear she’d purchased in celebration on her way home from the clinic the day she’d been inseminated. And to cry.

  By morning she’d been cried out, at least temporarily, and had a list of things to do. Doctors to call, specialists in neonatal hematology, tests to request. All of that went beyond the amniocentesis her doctor had already scheduled for that next week and calling Christine Elliott at an ungodly hour to arrange to contact her sperm donor. She’d once heard the woman say she’d been in her office since six in the morning, had taken a chance, would have left a message, but got lucky and spoke with the director on her first try. The stars were aligning.

  By five that first Thursday afternoon in June, on her way from work to the home she owned in a gated community on a small private stretch of the beach just outside Marie Cove city limits, she was regressing back to the day before, the moments when she’d spoken with the doctor. She needed to be taking charge. Doing something productive.

  When bad things happened, when times were hard, you got up out of bed just like every other day and went about your work. You just kept going. Doing. Working. The rest would work itself out, or not, just the same. Her daddy had never said those words to her, maybe hadn’t had the wherewithal to put it just like that, but his steady, reliable actions had shown her. When Cassie’s mother had told him she was leaving him, he’d blinked. And gone to work.

  Cassie had been four at the time, but she still remembered that.

  The day her mother had remarried—a finance broker with a successful career—Cassie had begged a family friend to leave the second the ceremony was over so she could get to her father, with whom she’d be staying during the honeymoon. She’d been eight and worried sick about him. She’d found him in his yard, building a shed. And she’d spent the rest of that weekend building right there with him. Probably getting in his way more than anything, she’d realized years later, but at the time, he’d made her feel as though she was a huge help.

  She hoped, in some fashion, she had been.

  Her sperm donor, A203B4, had a name now. Woodrow Alexander. He’d said she could call anytime after five. Five-oh-three was after five.

  She glanced at the screen on her dash, at the button on her steering wheel that she could push to command the car’s system to make the call.

  He’d requested that she wait until after six.

  An hour wasn’t going to make a difference to her baby’s future. Unless she went crazy with stress waiting for that hour to pass. Woodrow Alexander was her only real possible strength in the event of worst-case scenario. She just needed to know that he was on board and then she’d be fine.

  Five-oh-four. Her thumb was over the call command button. Just as she was passing the car wash. Pulling her blue Jaguar onto the lot, she put money into the machine and followed the instructions to join the queue being propelled through the automatic washing tunnel. Watched as the pink, blue and white spirals of soap filled the windshield. Baby colors. A sign. Smelled the bubblegum smell. Kids loved that scent. Watched as the powerful dryer forced bubbles of water off the newly waxed, shiny metallic-blue hood of her car. And then pulled into one of the many vacant vacuum slots.

  Thursday evenings at dinnertime apparently weren’t big car wash times. She hadn’t known that, but she was thankful because it meant she got to use the vacuum from her slot and the one at the empty stall beside her, allowing her to clean the entire interior of her car twice as easily.

  If six o’clock hadn’t rolled around, she’d probably have sucked up rocks from the parking lot next, but the time had ticked by. She had a call to make.

  * * *

  Retro—so named because in retrospect Wood probably should have checked with Elaina before buying a dog on their wedding day—trotted up to Wood, Frisbee in her mouth, and dropped it at his feet.

  “Good girl,” he said. And then, as he bent to pick up the disc, “Stay.” The Lab stood there, her big brown eyes intent on him as Wood wound up and threw as hard as he could, sending the disc sailing through the trees to the far back of their property. Retro continued to stand there, on alert, until Wood smiled and said, “Fetch.” Retro took off, finding her prey. She’d succeed and bring it back again, too. For as long as Wood would throw it for her. Some nights they were out there for an hour or more. The dog needed exercise, and Wood, well, he liked working with the dog.

  She’d brought youth, new life, into a grieving home the day he’d stood before a judge at the courthouse in jeans and a button down shirt while Elaina, also in jeans, cried a little beside him and took him as her husband in place of the man they’d both lost.

  His phone rang before Retro made it to her target. Pulling the cell from his shirt pocket, he recognized the number and answered immediately.

  “Mr. Alexander, I’m sorry to bother you—”

  “My name’s Wood,” he interrupted, for no good reason other than that she sounded tense and he needed to put her at ease.

  “Okay, Wood, thank you for agreeing to speak w
ith me—”

  “Signed documents said I had to.” He broke in a second time, going for light conversation when he knew the phone call was anything but. He didn’t need her gratitude. And didn’t want to hear that his sperm was inadequate, that it had created an unhealthy baby. Didn’t want to know that he’d inadvertently caused her distress. Caused some kid even worse than that. Possibly.

  But why else would she need to speak urgently? That meant there was a problem. He’d known it all day. And still didn’t want to hear how bad it was. He couldn’t take back his deposit.

  She couldn’t sue him. That was in the contract, too—he’d reread every word as soon as he’d gotten home. But he’d help her financially if he was in any way responsible for her incurring extra expenses. He’d already made that decision. His savings had taken a hit during the three years Elaina had been finishing medical school, but he’d had several years before that to build them...

  “Yes, well, thank you for agreeing to speak with me so quickly,” she amended after a short pause. “I won’t keep you. I’m just covering all bases and need to know if you’d be willing to donate bone marrow if it’s needed...”

  “Of course,” he responded immediately. And then stood there, holding his phone, looking at the blue disc on the ground at his feet, at the dog looking up at him, not sure what donating bone marrow entailed. And was afraid that since he’d already given her what she needed, she’d just hang up. “Wait. What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Probably nothing. But, just in case...”

  He wasn’t getting it. “You’re calling just on the off shot that someday your child might get sick and need my bone marrow?” That was taking worrying to an extreme. Surely...

  “No.” Her breath was all he heard on the line for a moment. Unsteady breaths. “I had an ultrasound yesterday. The doctor said that they found a darker, shadowed spot in the baby’s brain that indicates some kind of blood abnormality. They have no idea what it is yet. And, in fact, the doctor said that there are times when the dark spot is an anomaly. That it will just disappear. But it’s something they have to check out.”

  “So...it’s possible there’s nothing wrong at all.” Damn, that was good news. Real good news. Could be nothing.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then, sure,” he said. “If you ever need my bone marrow, of course I’d donate,” he told her. “Who wouldn’t, to save a kid’s life?”

  A kid. His kid. Not really. But biologically. He’d never taken that donation seriously. Not from the very beginning. He’d tried to tell Peter that adding Wood’s sample to sperm collection was a waste of time. All of Peter’s doctor friends had been donating.

  He’d pretty much forgotten about it. Had certainly never considered that there could be a kid walking around town that looked like him. That had his DNA. That could need his bone marrow to save his life.

  “Okay, well, thank you!” Her tone was completely different now. Lighter. “Just thank you. I hope I never need to call you again, but you have no idea how much it means to me to know that this base is covered...”

  She really was going to hang up. “Wait,” he said for the second time in their brief conversation. He wasn’t ready just to be done. He was going to have a kid in the world. Felt like he had to do something about that. Be responsible somehow for the child, more than just an outside chance of becoming a bone-marrow donor. “I’d, uh... Can I know more, please?” he asked.

  “About a bone marrow transplant? What it would require of you? I’m not a medical expert, but from what I read last night, it could be quite painful. I’m not going to lie to you about it. It’s not a pleasant procedure, from what I understand...”

  “Not about bone marrow,” he said, uncomfortable with Retro standing there staring so intently. He picked up the disc, lobbed it sloppily and rolled his eyes when it landed in the pool. She’d get it as soon as he released her. And then he’d have to deal with a wet dog. “I’d like to know more.” About the baby. About her. “I’m assuming there will be more tests done?” Abnormalities always seemed to lead to them.

  “An amniocentesis next week.”

  She had a whole week to wait. That wouldn’t be easy.

  Hopefully she wasn’t going to be doing it alone. “Are you married?”

  “No. Are you? I’m sorry, I should have asked. Your wife should certainly be consulted, since we’re talking about an intrusive medical procedure...”

  About to tell her that Elaina didn’t really play into decisions like this one, he checked himself, threw the Frisbee, let Retro go and admitted, “I’m divorced. But...” If he needed someone to be there after the procedure, to care for him... “We still share a residence,” he told her. “She has her space, with her own entrance, and I have mine. She could be around if it came to me needing someone present after the procedure.” To drive him home. Whatever.

  He heard the splash as Retro went in. Felt the cold spray as she came back to him, dropping her prize and shaking herself off.

  “Would you like time to speak with her, then, before you give a definitive answer?” Her tone had become more guarded.

  He’d meant to relieve Cassie, let her know he had all bases covered—not send new alarm in her direction.

  “No. She’s at work. And I don’t need her buy-in, although I’ll tell her about it, of course.” Wanting to give her everything he had that could possibly help, he added, “She’s a resident at Oceanfront,” he continued. “Nuclear radiology. She knows pretty much everybody there and will be fully supportive if there’s any issue...”

  As would Peter have been. “My brother was in medicine, too,” he added, so unlike himself, as though he was trying to get good credit for himself on his brother’s merit. “Obstetrics and gynecology,” he added, because it was somewhat pertinent to the current conversation, in that they were talking about an unborn child.

  And because Peter had been the reason he’d donated sperm in the first place. Wood threw the disc all the way to the back of the yard again. There was wet fur to dry.

  “Was in medicine? He’s not anymore?”

  “He was killed in a car accident just over five years ago.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. No, wait. Was it that accident with the drunk driver going the wrong way on the exit ramp? A doctor was killed...”

  And the drunk driver had been an underage teen who’d pretty much gotten away with murder. The case had been in local news for more than two years afterward.

  “Yes.” There was nothing else to say about it. He didn’t need or want her sympathy. He wanted... “What did your doctor tell you? What’s her opinion?” He knew all medical professionals had them, knew that most of them were trustworthy and often right.

  “She said she can’t tell anything from the ultrasound other than that there’s an abnormality in the video. It could be that the baby’s anemic. It could be...leukemia...”

  His hand dropped to Retro’s head. Stayed there a moment before he bent to pick up the disc the Lab had just returned.

  “Did she give you percentages on how often a test result that looks like yours comes back as leukemia?” He needed facts. Held himself stiffly. Couldn’t let fear, worry, get in the way.

  “She said there’s a good chance it isn’t.” The woman’s voice was soft. He wanted to go to her. Make things better, but had no idea where she was. Who she was, other than a name. “And that there’s also a chance that it is.”

  In other words, the doctor really didn’t know at that point. He knew the lingo.

  “There are other blood conditions, things that have to do with Rh negative and positive mixtures, but that possibility was ruled out before insemination.”

  Cassie Thompson was just a voice on the phone. It wasn’t enough. Not when a woman carrying his sperm was in distress.

  “Do you have family there with you? Support?” he asked,
throwing the disc again.

  “I haven’t told anyone yet,” she said, a bit hesitantly. “I don’t want to until I know more about what’s going on. I’m struggling enough with my own worry without having to take on everyone else’s.”

  He got that. Completely. Though he had to point out, “They might be able to help you, to ease the burden a bit...” He’d never really been able to see a way for that to work for him, but he’d seen it in others. Elaina, for one. She’d said many times, told other people, too, that Wood being there for her after the accident had saved her life, said that, without the physical security and emotional support he’d provided, she wouldn’t have made it. He’d only done what family did.

  “It makes me feel weak when people worry about me,” she said.

  He’d never thought of it that way, but he got exactly what she was saying. And then said, “So how about if you and I meet for lunch or something? I know what’s going on, but I’d be more like an extension of the medical team—not someone whose feelings you’d need to worry about.”

  He felt a bit stupid when he heard his words. “I’m not coming on to you,” he blurted out, sure he’d quickly made matters worse. “Seriously,” he said, looking for a way to reassure her and coming up blank. “I just... I’d like to do something to help...offer what support I can. And it makes sense, just in case things don’t turn out how we’d like and you need my bone marrow, that we’ve actually met before we get into all that. I could have Elaina call you if you’d like. To vouch for me.”

  “Maybe we could all three go to lunch?”

  Maybe. She’d be interested. And was family. Sister-in-law, wife for a minute, ex-wife and now? He didn’t know what. Family that he loved in a nonromantic way. Still, he’d rather meet Cassie himself first, though he had no logical reason for the preference. “I can ask, but she’s in her third year of a four-year residency and doesn’t have a lot of free time.”

  “But you do.”