“Faith and I are having the salmon. You should try it.”
Hope looked up at the fifty-something balding man, and smiled. “How’s it prepared?”
“Our grilled wild king salmon is a Seattle favorite, served with parsnip puree, Brussels sprouts, crispy fingerling potatoes, herbed compound butter and Seattle Caviar Ikura.”
“Sounds heavenly. Make it three orders.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” he assured.
Faith watched the waiter until he was out of earshot before she continued. Turning to face Riley, she gave her husband an alert glance before drawing a deep breath through her nose, bracing herself for what she was about to say. He gave her a short nod of encouragement in return.
“We’ve finally come to the harsh reality that I can’t carry a baby.”
The sad words, absolute and definitive, hit Hope hard. She gasped softly, covering her heart with her palm, her brows furrowed with concern. “Are you positive?”
“Yes,” Faith assured. Her soft voice nothing more than an ache of a whisper. Riley moved closer to his wife and slipped his hand over her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“But they’ve never given you a conclusive reason.” A protectiveness clung to Hope’s voice, a habit she’d never been able to break. “Is there another specialist you can see? Or maybe—”
“We’ve already been to several specialists. I’m tired of all the poking and the prodding, all the tests and blood work. All the miscarriages.” Defeat rolled off her sister in waves, yet Hope detected something new, an underlying strength in her tone. “I just don’t have the energy or stamina to keep trying. In some rare instances, a woman’s womb won’t support a baby. There’s no explainable reason. I just can’t carry a baby.”
“I can’t imagine how hard this has been for the two of you, but it sounds as if you might be ready to move on to the next alternative.”
“Dr. Monroe, our therapist, says that letting go can have a profound healing effect, so after another meeting with our doctor and a few grueling months of soul-searching, we’ve decided—” Faith twisted in her seat, showering Riley with a look of devotion. “—to move forward in a different direction.”
“Or at least we’re attempting to,” Riley added, praising his wife’s courage with a small kiss near her temple.
“I’m sure you’ve investigated all your other options. Where do you go from here? Are you looking into adoption?”
“No, we’re not considering adoption. I’m perfectly capable of producing healthy eggs. I just can’t carry them.”
“I don’t understand. What good will IVF do if you still won’t be able to carry the fetus?”
“It’s a baby, not a fetus.”
“I’m sorry.” Hope backpedaled immediately. “I mean the baby.”
“IVF won’t work for us. It’s not an option.”
Riley wrapped a strong arm around his wife, saying quietly, “I knew you wouldn’t last fifteen minutes. You’re just gonna jump right in with both feet, aren’t you?”
Faith beamed up at her husband, entwining her fingers in his. A mix of emotions surged through the air around them. Their nervous energy, exciting and contagious, drew Hope in. She inched forward on her seat, clutching her wine glass.
“What’s going on? What are you jumping into?”
“We’ve decided to use a surrogate.”
“Awe, right on. I’m so happy for you,” Hope hummed in relief. No words could describe the depth of despair Faith and Riley had been through. The smallest things, seeing other pregnant women, babies in strollers, even advertisements for baby items, could trigger feelings of utter misery. The idea that they would finally have the opportunity to have a child, plus the fact that her sister wouldn’t have to endure another miscarriage, made her heart swell with happiness. Lifting her glass, she congratulated, “See, I knew there was something going on. I could hear it in your voice when you called.”
“Actually, that’s only one of the reasons I asked you to meet us for dinner.”
Faith fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair, nervously picking at the edges of the napkin beneath her glass of water. Hope’s eyes shifted from side to side, contemplating the couple’s sudden, tense expressions. She could see Faith’s chest lift and lower with each labored breath. Riley forced a golf ball-size knot down his throat.
“What is it? Do you need money? How can I help?”
“No, that’s not it.” Her bottom lip quivered and tears welled in her eyes. “But I do need your help.”
Reaching across the table, Hope took her sister’s hand. “Anything, just name it.”
Riley’s brows lifted, giving his wife a nod of reassurance.
“I’m not asking to borrow money. I’m asking if you’ll carry our child for us.”
A HEAVY DOSE OF SHOCK hit her like a Taser gun, powerful and unexpected, rendering Hope dazed and unable to comprehend the question. Her delayed reaction tied her tongue in a knot and sealed her lips shut tight like a Super Glue calamity. Her pulse raced wildly and a film of perspiration prickled her skin causing the fine hair on her arms to stand on end.
Hope blinked repeatedly, unable to string three words together. After what felt like minutes, she managed to spurt out two words, “Excuse me?”
“I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to give us an answer right now, but you’re the only person I trust enough to even consider carrying our baby.”
Shock continued to build, charging through her body, stunning her mind with another blast of 50,000 volts. She felt disoriented and distracted, almost dizzy.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hope knew she needed to empathize with her sister, but her instant reaction was to jump to her feet and slap a No Vacancy sign across her womb. The insanity of the suggestion weaved an unnerving path straight through her gut. Hope couldn’t even begin to fathom the idea of having a baby.
“You can’t possibly be serious?” Her terrified shriek of astonishment echoed through the entire restaurant. Faith’s eyes widened at Hope’s outburst. Riley’s mouth pinched tight, bleaching the skin around his pursed lips. He squeezed his wife a little tighter to his side as he looked around the room. “No, no, no, no, no, no. There’s just no way I can do that.”
Resting her wrists on the table, Faith locked her hands together as if forcing them not to shake. “Can you please lower your voice? And yes . . . I’m totally serious.”
A pang of remorse caught in her stomach, witnessing the brutal rejection sucking every ounce of optimism from her little sister’s face. Hope held up a shaky finger asking for a moment to absorb the ginormous scale of the situation. Seconds ticked by while she replayed the outrageous question in her head.
Reigning in her outburst, she repeated in a hushed, frantic tone, “Why me? There has to be somebody better than me . . . an agency or something? Surely there’s some crazy woman out there wandering the streets of Seattle who does this for a living. Someone who loves being pregnant. I don’t even like babies.”
“We considered going through an agency. I even had a meeting.”
“And?”
“They were very encouraging and helpful, but—”
“Is this about money? It’s got to be expensive. I’ll loan you some money. Hell, I’ll even give you the money.” Trepidation clipped the edge of her voice as if she were being held up at gunpoint by a masked gunman. A distorted image of a pregnant woman who looked like Hope, strapped to a hospital bed, knees in the air, sweat dripping from her face as she screamed Get! It! Out! flashed through her mind, sending a violent shudder down her spine.
“It costs a small fortune, but this has nothing to do with money.”
“Faith, I would do anything for you, but this . . . this is absurd. You know me! I have no intention of having children. Ever! Not for me. Not for you. Not for any reason.”
Leaning closer, Faith darted a glance at the neighboring tables, affirming quietly, “I know you don’t want kids, and I try to unders
tand your decisions, but I don’t agree with you, Hope. You’re nothing like our mother. Just because you love to travel and you love men doesn’t mean you’d make a lousy wife and mother.”
Hope’s heart pounded painfully hard inside her chest. “Wow,” she bit through her strained jaw. “You’re gonna go there?”
Faith slid her hand across the table, curling her fingers into Hope’s clammy palms. She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I just needed to say it.”
“And this is the ludicrous reason why you’re asking me to be your surrogate?” Pulling her hand free, she waved aimlessly in a nonsensical manner before crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re delusional.”
The waiter delivered a basket of warm bread and pads of cold butter wrapped in gold foil. Faith’s gaze dropped to the table, her lips pursed releasing a long drawn out puff of air.
The uncomfortable silence leached the color from Riley’s typically tan face. Clearing the sentiment from his throat, he interjected, “Our reproductive endocrinologist suggested we start with family and friends who already have children and whose families are complete. Most of our friends are still in the process of growing their families. Asking my sister is out of the question. She lives a completely different lifestyle and we rarely speak. She has four kids, but doesn’t take care of herself or her children. She drinks, smokes, and probably does drugs while she’s pregnant.”
“Hello—” Hope choked, eyes bulging in a plea of sanity. “—I drink wine for a living.”
“Yeah, but you’re not a drug addict or a drunk. A few of your team members have had babies,” Faith pointed out. The desperate yearning in her voice exposed the painful scars imprinted on her heart left by years of disappointment and grief. “Look, I realize the magnitude of what we’re asking of you, but there’s no one else I trust enough to go on this journey with us. It would be nine months out of your life and then you can walk away and I . . . I can be a mommy.”
Hope could scarcely breathe. Her throat tightened, strangling a response. A tingling sensation gathered behind her eyes, watching tears stream down Faith’s cheeks in inky-black ribbons. As the waiter delivered an armful of artfully composed plates, her sister excused herself from the table, escaping to the ladies room.
Hope pressed a palm against the thin, cotton material of her shirt, measuring the painful beats of her heart slamming ferociously inside her chest. “I just . . . I don’t know what to say. Never in a million years did I see this coming.”
Riley tipped his chin in the general direction of the restroom. “She’s completely shredded, Hope. I tried to warn her that she was setting herself up for heartbreak. Everyone knows you don’t want kids. Believe me, I realize that includes being pregnant and carrying a child for us, but she was optimistic you’d say yes.”
Even though it was true, Hope had no intention of having children, his sureness of words stung, needling at her heart. A tiny fissure of insecurity rattled her core.
“I know this is extremely difficult for both of you, but maybe you should’ve warned me. Something. Anything. Maybe we could’ve ordered dinner in, so I could at least fucking pace around. This feels like a trap.”
“She knew the risks of asking you in public, but in her heart, I truly believe Faith expected to be celebrating tonight.”
Hope’s brows lifted to a sharp point, magnifying her clear disagreement.
“There’s no way in hell she’s going to allow a complete stranger to carry our baby. You’re the only person she can depend on. She has trust issues.”
Hope scowled. “We both do.”
“This is the first time in years that she’s allowed herself to be this optimistic. We made up our minds about moving forward with the surrogate a few weeks ago. You’ve been out of town, so the scenario in her head has had plenty of time to morph into this . . . perfect plan. I tried to keep her feet planted on the ground, but you know how she is once she makes up her mind.”
Hope pushed away from the table. “I’ll go talk to her.”
“Give her a few minutes, Hope. She needs them right now.”
Ignoring his suggestion, she stood to go after her sister, but Riley caught her by the wrist and indicated for her to sit back down.
“Are you sure?”
“Let her settle into her own thoughts. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The weight of the world landed on her shoulders, witnessing the crushing disappointment on her sister’s face. Growing up, she vowed never to see that kind of agony in her little sister’s eyes again. Hope couldn’t help but wonder how many times Riley had seen the same tragic look of devastation over the years.
“Thank you for taking such good care of her,” she murmured.
“You can’t imagine how difficult it is for her.” His voice cracked. “I’d give up my life for that woman. She’s the best thing about me. The one thing she wants the most in life, I can’t give her. It kills me.”
“You give her unconditional love. That’s the only thing she ever truly wanted.”
“It’s not enough, Hope. It’s been a nightmare for both of us, especially for your sister. After each miscarriage I see the agony in my wife’s eyes as she tries to come to terms with the fact that we’ve failed again. Every time, it steals a bit of her soul. And mine,” he admitted candidly.
“I thought the therapist was helping both of you work through a lot of this stuff?”
“Dr. Monroe has been wonderful. She helps Faith work through the torture she puts herself through after each miscarriage. At least now, she allows herself to be happy between the disappointments, but we can’t turn our feelings on and off like a light switch every time we lose a baby. One look at those double pink lines and our entire world changes in that instant. The first twenty-four hours are the best and the worst. It’s like being on this crazy rollercoaster, every part of you is being accelerated to this incredible high, daring you to glimpse forward, envisioning your future as a family. Then reality sinks in and you get slammed to the ground trying to comprehend that it might not happen . . . again.
“I’ve always supported Faith, but through this whole process I’ve also realized my own deepest desires. It may sound selfish, but I want a child that will carry on our own family traits. We both survived pretty fucked up childhoods. This is our chance to break the cycle of abuse and create a loving family. Maybe we’ll have a little girl that would be blessed with her mommy’s gorgeous smile and kind heart who loves to bake and sing in the shower, or maybe a boy who could grow up to be a firefighter like his daddy.”
A candle flickered at the end of the table, igniting a somber heaviness to the empty space between them. The dark shadows beneath his eyes now a permanent reminder of their daily heartbreak and struggles.
Resting her elbows on the table, Hope clasped her hands together, laying her forehead against her entwined fingers.
“Part of her gave up on being optimistic a long time ago, but once we made the decision to use a surrogate . . .” His mind trailed off as if reaching into a deep reflection, searching for answers. “You’ve always been there to save her, Hope.”
An ice cold dose of revulsion surged through her veins at the smallest memory, a horrific retention, of their mother’s third husband Frank, his large frame hunched over her little sister as she lay sleeping on the couch. He groped at her clothing, muffling her cries with his mouth, attempting to silence her screams. In a daze, Hope scrambled to her feet in the darkness from the spot on the floor beside the fireplace where she’d fallen asleep watching a movie with Faith. The next thing she remembered was the sound of a dull thud as the iron fireplace poker connected with flesh and bone, blow after blow, until Frank lay slumped on the floor moaning and bleeding from a gash on the back of his skull. His greedy hands made it beneath her sister’s training bra, but mercifully not the elastic of her underpants.
Her jaw set tight, forcing the dark, haunting memory from her mind. Hope gathered her clenched fists on her lap beneath the table, w
ringing the thick napkin.
“I protected her, Riley. I didn’t save her.”
“That’s not how she remembers it.”
Spotting Faith’s petite silhouette standing at the railing of the dock, Hope pried her fingers from the crumpled white cloth on her lap, tossing it on the table before heading outside.
The cool ocean air came as a much-needed relief to the scalding heat boiling beneath the surface of her flesh. Hope stood beside her sister, their arms brushed as they stared out over the water in the darkness. Muted sounds of conversation and laughter mixed with the lull of waves crashing against the pylons beneath their feet, filling the awkward silence between them.
“You okay?” she questioned warily.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Faith.”
“I’m emotional, but I’m going to be okay.”
“You caught me completely off guard and to be honest, I’m not even sure what to say.”
“I understand. It’s just—” Faith paused collecting her thoughts. “—you know how much I despise that phrase Everything happens for a reason? Every time someone dares to utter those words to me, I plaster a fake smile, but inside I really want to punch them in the face.”
Hope’s head bobbed up and down, turning to take in her sister’s stone-like profile.
Faith continued quietly, “I’ve come to realize that some people use that line because they don’t know what to say or they’re trying to be sympathetic or helpful. For other people, it’s kind of like a habit, a slogan they use to justify the good and bad they receive in life. And then there are those who truly believe it. I think they feel stronger or wiser having a sense of power believing that everything in life is connected.”
“I guess it’s kind of like throwing all your cards up into the universe, leaving your destiny to chance. Giving up control and accepting the fortunes or misfortunes of your life.” Hope added somberly, “Neither one of us are good at giving up control. We had to fight too hard to gain it.”
A small smile lifted at the edge of Faith’s mouth, acknowledging the truth. “I always hated that theory because I’m the person getting denied what I want most in life. Why would this happen to us . . . on purpose?”
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