The Doctor's Wife

by Mildred Riley

  “That was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, for the baby, but when I really looked at the baby, it seemed to me that he should have had some resemblance to my other children.”

  “He didn’t look like either of them?”

  “I didn’t expect he would look exactly like Curtis or Jane, after all…different mothers, but this child had what I thought was a decided Asian slant to his eyes, and his hair was jet black, abundant, and had a coarse texture. But when I mentioned this to Alisha, she said something about having a Japanese grandfather. Frank…”

  “What, Don?”

  “That child is not mine!”

  “How do you know?”

  “Read this.” Don took out the brown envelope from his briefcase.

  Looking sober, the lawyer read the findings, then passed the document back to Don.

  “Have you told Alisha?”

  “I’ve wanted to confront her, but I thought I should have legal advice, so here I am. What a mess I’ve made of my life.”

  “Don’t worry, Don, we’ll sort it out. I presume you do not wish to remain in this marriage now.”

  “Are you kidding me? Damn straight!” Don sputtered, his eyes widening.

  “To begin with, I need to make a copy of that report. And I suggest you put the original in a secure place, like your safety deposit box at your bank. What I can tell you now is that you are the baby’s legal father, although not his biological father. I’m going to be checking case law to determine what we do next. But you should inform your wife of your discovery, and also let her know you have retained legal counsel to pursue a divorce. But be mindful, you still may be responsible for the child’s support.”

  Don stared at Frank. “Even though he is not my biological child?”

  “You were legally married to his mother at the time of his birth, and your name is listed as his father on his birth certificate.”

  Rattled by the idea that he might be responsible for support of a child that was not his, Don willed himself to listen carefully to his lawyer.

  “Thank you, Frank. I’ll certainly do as you suggest and put the original in my safety deposit box. It is secure. Alisha does not have a key.”

  “That’s good, Don, but it might be wise to have a second secure box, just in case. God forbid something should happen to you. You need to protect yourself.”

  “I know. So far, Frank, I’ve done nothing but make horrible mistakes in my life.”

  “Okay,” lawyer advised, “let’s make sure no new ones are made. I want you to be very careful about how you approach your wife with this information. I know you are upset and angry, but as a professional man you must keep your cool. We will get you back on track, trust me. Just don’t do anything foolish. You know what I mean.”

  Driving home from his lawyer’s office, Don knew that he faced a big problem. Obviously, Alisha had had an affair with someone and blamed her pregnancy on him. He realized that he had to start to think the way he had been taught in medical school. First, assess the problem. Second, put all the facts, as he knew them, together. Third, make a plan of action that would resolve the situation. He began thinking about what he would say to Alisha and how he would handle her reaction when he confronted her.

  Don was so distraught, so flushed and perspiring so much that he had to turn on the car’s air conditioning. He slowed down as he neared the turn into his street. Although he was not what could be called a praying man, he searched his mind for some type of invocation to soothe his troubled mind. All he could think of was the Lord’s Prayer, so he recited it, hoping it would help.

  He drove into the driveway and was surprised by how serene and normal everything looked. He’d almost expected some form of disarray to be evident. As soon as he entered the house, he called, “Alisha, where are you?”

  “In the kitchen, feeding Jay.”

  “I’ve got to talk to you right now!”

  “What about? What’s the matter?”

  When she looked at his face, she knew that she was in trouble, but she tried to act normally, as if to delay the inevitable. She wiped the baby’s mouth and placed him in his playpen and gave him a toy before looking at Don. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” he shouted. He thought he was going to explode, he was so angry, but he remembered Frank’s words of caution. He made himself take a deep breath. If he could just remain calm, he would be able to move forward with the situation facing him.

  “Sit down. I have some questions for you.”

  Alisha did as told, and Don saw anxiety and tension creeping over her face. He went right to the point.

  “Who did you sleep with before I married you?”

  “No one, no one, never slept with anyone but you!”

  “Liar! Liar!” Don pulled the brown envelope from his briefcase. “No one? Well, read this!” he demanded, thrusting the brown envelope at her. “Read this and explain it to me.”

  As she read the DNA report her eyes grew large and she could barely speak. In a shaking voice that was barely above a whisper, she said, “I—I used a donor.”

  “You used a what? A sperm donor? Just to have a baby and lie that it was my child?” Almost involuntarily he clenched his fists and started to move toward her, but the fear in her eyes made him recall Frank’s warning. “Be careful, don’t do anything foolish.”

  Her face hidden in her hands, she mumbled, “I love you, Don. Always have loved you, and I was, was desperate!”

  “Why, you lying bitch! I gave up my wonderful wife and family and almost destroyed my practice to do right by you and the child. And you go and have a baby by someone you don’t even know! No wonder Jay looks different!”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I asked the clinic for someone that fit you, looked like you…”

  “Well, you didn’t find him!”

  As he glared at a weeping Alisha, Don knew that if he didn’t get away, he might lose control and even attack her—he was that angry.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, lifting her tear-streaked face to him.

  “I’m outta here before I do something I will regret. You’ll hear from Frank Jones; I’ve already talked to him!”

  He picked up his briefcase, shoved the DNA report into it and turned to leave the kitchen. He planned to pack a few things, not knowing where he was going, but as he was leaving the kitchen, the wall telephone rang. He picked it up, thinking it might be a patient.

  “This is Dr. Matthews.”

  “Don?”

  The man’s voice sounded familiar, and when he said, “Don, is that you?” Don recognized the voice of Alisha’s father.

  “Mr. Morton? Yes, this is me, Don.”

  Hearing her father’s name Alisha sprang from her chair at the kitchen table and snatched the phone from Don.

  “Dad! What’s wrong?”

  Don watched her as her tear-stained face paled with horror at whatever it was her father was telling her. Don quickly pushed a chair behind her, pressed her shoulders so she could sit down into it. He thought she might faint. He reached for a glass from a cabinet and gave her a glass of water. She was almost struggling to breathe.

  “My, God, Dad, when did this happen? Two days? The police?”

  Evidently something serious had happened to Alisha’s mother. Then he heard Alisha say, “I’ll take the first flight I can get. Yes, Dad, I’m coming right away!”

  “It’s my mother…wandered away. I’ve got to go, my father…two days missing! My father needs me!”

  “Of course you must go. But what about Jay?”

  She looked at Don as if he had lost his mind.

  “What about him?”

  “Whose going to take care of him?”

  “You’re not expecting me to take him with me to Pittsburgh? Put him in the day care center, and you can surely manage nights! Listen, do what you want, I’m leaving!”

  Though still inwardly seething at Alisha’s deception, Don did manage to tell he
r that he was sorry about her mother and hoped she would be found okay.

  “Thanks,” she said.”I’m going to pack. Call me a taxi, will you?”

  “How about money?”

  “I have some, and I’ll use my credit cards.”

  Ten minutes later she came downstairs carrying a small overnight bag. She was wearing jeans, a white pullover sweater and a tan quilted car coat, plus a leather bag over her arm.

  She ran to the front door to let the driver know she was coming.

  Don reminded her about the crisis in their lives, and helping her with her coat, he said to her, “We have serious business to talk about when you get back here.”

  “I know. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” she said as she got into the taxi.

  As if suddenly aware that neither of his parents was nearby, Jay let out a high-pitched wail that announced his distress.

  Don rushed into the kitchen and picked the child up. After the wailing stopped, Jay gave Don a toothless smile with a few hiccups.

  “Poor little boy. I don’t know who your real daddy is, but I do know that he is missing the chance of a lifetime not knowing and loving you. It’s not your fault, none of it, and I am so sorry that you came into this crazy situation.”

  He went upstairs to the bedroom, cradling Jay in his arms. Looking at his watch he saw that he had been home less than an hour. Time enough to turn his life upside down. Would he be able to stop it from further spinning out of control?

  CHAPTER 29

  After months of a nearly unvarying routine of going to work and back to an empty house, Leanne had decided to join a group of divorced women who called themselves First Wives. She learned about the group upon returning some books to the library. As she was leaving, she saw a flyer on the bulletin board in the lobby. First wives, join us every first Tuesday of the month at eight p.m. in the downstairs community room. Remember, you are not alone. Together we can learn how to cope with divorce.

  Her friend Sharla had been after Leanne for some time, urging her, “Girl, get on with your life! You’ve got to get out more, meet new people!”

  Leanne’s response was always, “I know, but it’s so hard, Sharla. Easier said than done. What do I do, go up to a stranger, say, ‘I’m Leanne Matthews and I’m divorced?’ ”

  Curtis, too, was trying to encourage his mother to get out more.

  Leanne thought that neither of them understood her feeling of…just floating through life like so much flotsam and jetsam, with no real anchor in her life now that her husband lived with another woman. She’d never been a woman interested in joining clubs. That was for her close friends and family.

  Taking her date calendar out of her purse, she jotted down the telephone number listed as the contact person, someone named Agnes Taylor.

  She thought she should at least see what the group had to offer. Perhaps she might learn something helpful. She admitted to herself that she was lonely, missed her children, and, yes, missed Don more and more each day. And God knows her nights were almost unbearable. There seemed to be no part of the house in which she could find peace. Don was gone, but his unseen presence seemed to permeate the house. She had become a night owl and had taken to wandering from room to room, from bedroom to kitchen, from kitchen to family room. Sleep would elude her until the wee hours of the night, and the next day she would, of course, be physically tired, emotionally exhausted. Perhaps other women in the same boat could describe what it takes to move forward after divorce.

  So a few day later Leanne took her first big step and called Agnes Taylor.

  Agnes Taylor sounded cheerful and optimistic when she answered the phone.

  “My name is Leanne Matthews and I’ve been divorced for almost a year. I saw your notice about your support group from the library’s bulletin board. Could you tell me a little about…”

  “Yes, Leanne…you don’t mind me calling you Leanne?”

  “Not at all, please do.”

  “And I’m Agnes. First, let me tell you that I divorced my husband after forty-five years of marriage.”

  “Twenty-five years for me.”

  “I’m sorry, Leanne. Know what you are going through. I think meeting with the group will be helpful.”

  * * *

  “This is Leanne Matthews, everyone,” Agnes said. “Please introduce yourselves.”

  “My name is Grace. I am a first wife, and I’ve been divorced for ten years.”

  The woman seated next to her said, “My name is Anna. I am a first wife, and I’ve been divorced for three years.”

  As the introductions continued, Leanne listened. She learned that some of the women were recently divorced as she was and others who had been divorced for more than fifteen years. There must be something they get from this support group that keeps them coming.

  Agnes asked Leanne, “Do you drink coffee, or would you prefer a cup of tea?”

  “Coffee, black, would be great. And those blueberry muffins over there look to die for.”

  “You’ve got it!”

  Agnes went over to a small table on which were carafes of hot water for tea and coffee. She soon returned with the coffee, a large muffin, napkins and a fork.

  “Enjoy, my dear.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re quite welcome,” Agnes told Leanne, then took her seat at the head of the table.

  “Ladies,” Agnes started, “as we all know, ‘doing well is the best revenge.’ And to make a good, meaningful life for one’s self is what each of us is seeking.”

  Most of the women nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Leanne,” Agnes continued, “as I told you on the phone, I divorced my husband after forty-five years of marriage. You want to know why? I just didn’t want to live with the man anymore. There was nothing in our marriage. It had just dried up, had no life in it, no reason to keep on trying. I couldn’t see spending my life trying to breathe life into it.”

  A woman at the opposite end of the table asked, “What about your children?”

  Agnes laughed.”My children were not stupid, not at all. They said it was ‘about time.’ Not that they didn’t love their father. It was because there was always such a miserable atmosphere in our home when they were growing up. They were relieved when we divorced.”

  As Leanne sipped her coffee and munched on her muffin, she looked around at the women, each of whom had her own divorce story. Most were very well dressed, well groomed, and she was surprised to see several white women among them. Well, she thought, divorce is non-racial.

  Later, after she had attended several sessions, one of the women came up and introduced herself.

  “Hello, Leanne. My name is Tina Lambeth. I’m glad you’ve joined us and I want to tell you that being in this group of women has given me more support and courage from my own family.”

  Leanne had thanked Tina and said she hoped she, too, would find the strength to find new paths in her own life.

  But at this first meeting, after listening to the women, it seemed to her that unlike her experience, many in the group had initiated their divorce. Only one or two, like her, had been divorced because of unfaithful husbands.

  Everly Babcock, a middle-aged woman, had lost her husband to a younger woman. Her husband, a computer expert, had been sent by his company on a six-month assignment to an island in the Caribbean. He asked Everly for a divorce when he returned home, saying he loved another woman.

  Leanne listened intently as Everly described the circumstances of her divorce, the only sign of her dismay being the way she moved her empty coffee cup around in tiny circles.

  “We had never had a fight. We always trusted each other. But, well, maybe it was being so far from home for so long…but now that I think about it, he was probably just another weak man buckling when this woman undertook a very serious campaign to snag him.”

  “What’s he doing now?” Leanne asked.

 
; “He left the computer company. Last I heard, he and his new wife were running a bed and breakfast on the island. The new wife might have thought he would bring her to the states, but I think he just couldn’t face his family and friends and co-workers. He turned into something different. A different person altogether.”

  Leanne wondered if something similar had happened to Don. She did not know this Alisha Morton, but she couldn’t help wondering if this intruder in their lives had somehow changed Don into something different from the man she had married twenty-five years ago.

  CHAPTER 30

  Macy’s was having a sale and Leanne decided it would be a good time to update her fall wardrobe.

  She hadn’t shopped for clothes since that New York weekend with Don. That long ago weekend when she thought that she and Don were on the same wavelengths of love. How wrong she was. And then there was her weight loss. Not a whole lot, but enough for her to notice some of her slacks and skirts were not fitting well at all.

  It was ten-thirty, and the store had already been open for a half hour, so it was not crowded. She’d been wearing a size twelve, but decided to check to see if eight would be a better fit, so she headed over to that department. Halfheartedly, she looked through the racks and spotted a mandarin-collar, boiled wool jacket. It was paired with stretch polyester fabric slacks. She already owned a crisp white blouse that she figured would pair up nicely. She picked up a camel-colored wool flannel skirt styled with a side-elastic waist and side seam pockets. She found a candy-red, silk, long-sleeved blouse to wear with the skirt. She was pleased to find a tweed jacket.

  She was heading for the dressing rooms when she heard someone call out, “Leanne! Leanne!” Startled, she turned to face Tina Lambeth, a member of the First Wives group.

  “Tina! What are you doing here?” Leanne asked.

  “I’m the manager of this department, women’s clothing.”

  “Gosh, no wonder you always look so well turned out.”

  Tina reached for the armful of clothing. “Here, let me take these. You’ve made some great selections,” she said as she accompanied Leanne to the dressing room area and hung the garments on the wall hooks.