But his wife was nice. Tanya offered them tea and desserts she’d bought from a gourmet bakery down the street. Henry Jr. grabbed a piece of Biscotti then ran into his room to watch TV.
After a few minutes of introduction and the spiel about Gloria’s book and why they were there, Gloria asked about the birth mother.
“We never met her of course, but when she was four months pregnant we got a call from New Age Adoption Agency. They said they’d found a young college girl, an English Lit major, who was at a university on scholarship.” Tanya’s eyes lit up.
Henry chimed in, “Not financial aid or grants, an academic scholarship. She’s a smart girl who we figured would yield us an intelligent child.”
“Not that it’s important, we’d take any healthy—” Tanya began.
“We would have, but why not shoot for the moon? If we could get a smart kid with a healthy mom, who wouldn’t prefer that over a baby with no past that someone finds on a stoop?”
“Henry, that’s a terrible thing to say!” Tanya said.
“That’s all right. I understand what you mean. If you’re going to pay top dollar, might as well get the best bang for your buck.” Kurt felt he needed to intervene to move them along. He didn’t care about their morality or what kind of child they would or wouldn’t have settled for. All that mattered was how they got Henry Jr. and how much they paid.
“So, after you were contacted, how did it go then?” Gloria had her pen poised over her notepad, pretending to take notes for a book that would never be written.
“Well, Henry and I took overnight to discuss it, even though I didn’t need to. I knew we wanted this baby but Henry says you always have to sleep on major decisions. In the morning I called New Age right away and told them that if the girl really went through with giving up her baby, we’d love to give the child a home.”
“Then you just waited until she was nine months along and got a call to pick him up?” Gloria asked. They both knew that’s not what happened but needed Tanya to tell them.
“I wish it had been that easy. Mr. Puglisi called me a couple of months later and told me the mother, Gia Carp was her name, had taken an excursion with some of her friends to Key West. She’d started bleeding and had been rushed to a nearby hospital.”
“In Key West?” Gloria asked.
“Well no, one of the smaller Keys. Windy Key. She’d made a day trip there. Mr. Puglisi said she was having some complications but so far was okay. I was devastated. In just that short time, Henry and I had gotten all excited that in three months we’d have a new infant. I was going to be allowed in the birthing room with her and see our child come into the world. And now, I thought, that chance was gone and who knew what kind of child we’d get.”
“You must have been crushed,” Gloria said, holding Tanya’s hand.
“I was. We were. I just thank God there was a birthing center right there when it all started. What are the chances?”
It was a rhetorical question so Kurt didn’t reply with a sarcastic, “Yeah, what are the chances?”
“But she gave birth obviously,” Gloria said, who had withdrawn her hand to scribble furiously on her pad. Kurt peered over at her notes. It looked like shorthand. When he looked closer though he could see it was just really bad penmanship. Funny, he figured Gloria to be the type with perfect cursive. Not chicken scrawl like his. Must be a left-handed thing.
“She sure did. But we had to pay for her to stay in the center for three months,” Henry added with a little shake of the head. “Hell of a lot of money, if you ask me. I don’t know what Gia was thinking traveling when she was that far along anyway.”
“Doesn’t matter now though. We paid it,” Tanya said.
“Three months in a hospital is a long time.” Gloria said. “I’m surprised such a small clinic had the resources to house a patient that long.”
“That’s what Henry said too, didn’t you?” She turned to her husband. He nodded. She turned back to Kurt and Gloria. “He said it smelled like a scam to him but Mr. Puglisi had them send us a brochure. It came from Windy Key too. Henry checked the postmark. He never misses a trick.”
That’s what he thinks, Kurt thought.
“I’ve got the pamphlet in a box somewhere. It’s a big brick building. Huge really, considering its location. Some great ob/gyns there,” Henry said.
“They get a lot of calls for births out on a remote island like that?” Kurt asked. He was having a difficult time not blurting out that they had been swindled by Mick Puglisi for every penny he could get out of them.
Henry stood up and walked over to Kurt, doing his best to look strong and tough in a little nerd body. Kurt hadn’t meant to get him all riled but was amazed such smart, well-to-do people were so blind when it came to spending their money.
“A lot of celebrities go there when they want to be left alone,” Henry said, defending himself. “Famous people who avoid public hospitals because of the paparazzi. I can’t divulge names, but some very famous celebs have gone there with their high risk pregnancies to struggle through them in privacy. And they weren’t all as fortunate as our Gia.” Then Henry sat down. He was done with fighting.
Hope he’s not a litigator, Kurt thought. This guy had bought it all—hook, line, and sinker. Mrs. Murray hadn’t mentioned a brochure or the movie star pregnancies angle. Probably because she accepted the first explanation Puglisi threw at her. Henry needed more proof, a compelling reason to accept what he was being told. A brochure didn’t cut it so he’d got the added tale that it was a hideaway for the pregnant rich and famous.
Who knows what other backup stories Puglisi had waiting for the really hard to convince? No matter. Henry Clarkson paid the money and believed.
Kurt went to speak again but Gloria put her hand on his and shot him a look. She knew he was about to blurt something about gullibility.
“Obviously it’s a wonderful facility, Mr. Clarkson. They took good care of Gia so she could at least have an easy labor even if the pregnancy was arduous,” Gloria said.
“Not so easy,” Tanya said. “Gia needed an emergency C-section a week before her due date. I was disappointed when Mr. Puglisi called and told me I’d missed the birth but he said she had a healthy baby boy and I could come to Miami to pick him up.”
“Why Miami, why not Windy Key?” Kurt asked.
“Gia was still there recuperating and didn’t want to meet us, said it was too emotionally painful.”
“But weren’t you going to meet her? I mean you were going to witness the birth right?” Kurt asked.
Tanya shrugged. “That was the plan but she struggled with post partum depression. Mr. Puglisi said if she met me, it might make her more depressed and she might change her mind. I didn’t care at that point. Obviously it was her baby. We have reams of medical expenses to prove it.”
“From the birthing center in Windy Key?” Gloria asked, still writing.
“Yes. Hope House. Isn’t that an appropriate name?” Tanya asked.
“Sure is. And now you have a healthy baby boy so it was all worth it.” Gloria said, wide smile in place.
Tanya nodded. “The adoption office is in Miami so it was easier to just pick up Henry Junior there.”
“Sign the papers and go,” Henry said. “Direct flight and home in a few hours.”
“Makes sense,” Gloria said.
“The people in that office are great,” Tanya said. “I was happy to go there and meet them in person. They’re so nice. And thorough! Take this meeting. Gloria, you called to schedule this but Angela had already set up an appointment for tomorrow for Mr. Puglisi.”
“She did?” Gloria didn’t hide her shock very well.
“Yes, she did,” Henry said. “Maybe you two need to coordinate better?”
Kurt couldn’t think of anything to say and was relieved when Gloria came up with a reply.
“I’ll call Angela when we leave. I have her home number. You can just consider Mr. Puglisi’s appointment cance
lled. Angela is a sweet girl but she’s a little on the disorganized side.”
Tanya nodded. “She did seem a little unprofessional. I think he just keeps her on because she’s his sister.”
This visit became more and more productive every time one of the Clarksons opened their mouths. Mick’s sister worked for the firm too. If Kurt recalled correctly, Angela was the one rude to Gloria back in Miami. No wonder she was down talking her now.
“You’ve answered all the questions we had, Tanya.”
“So you’re sure about the appointment tomorrow?”
“Very sure,” Gloria said, winking at Kurt. “I’ll pass what I learned onto Mr. Puglisi. He hasn’t been involved in the writing of the book but he’s been very proactive in getting us information.”
“Great. Henry Junior’s daycare was having a Mommy brunch I didn’t want to miss.”
“You go ahead and have fun,” Kurt said, smiling when he thought how angry Mick would be when he arrived all the way here from Miami to find an empty apartment.
Gloria and Kurt chit chatted with the Clarksons about things that didn’t matter, to lend credibility to the book idea: questions about emotions, their thoughts about someday meeting the biological mother . . . and then they excused themselves.
They had all the information they needed. They confirmed that New Age had used the same back story: English Lit major on scholarship gets pregnant, calls agency, then goes to Windy Key and happens to start bleeding. The adoptive parents pay for months of her care in a fictional birthing center plus the emergency C-section which prevented anyone from actually meeting the mother or seeing the birth. Of course Tanya couldn’t witness the birth. Gia Carp and the center didn’t exist.
And Kurt and Gloria knew now that Mick wasn’t far behind them. Mick must know they had the files, and likely knew that they’d already visited the Murrays in Maine.
Back at the hotel Kurt flopped down on the bed.
“We’re gonna have to go to Haiti.”
Gloria kicked off her shoes and lay down beside him. “We’ll fly out first thing in the morning and surprise Doctor Tad Boucher. I just hope it’s not a wasted trip. Hope House wasn’t really a birthing center; what are the chances Maison D’Espoir is really a nursing school?”
“Not too good. We might not find anything. Maison D’Espoir might be just another false lead. A fictional place in the jungle.”
Gloria rolled over on her side to face him. “Purportedly run by a man who isn’t really there. Call me skeptical but if anyone is at the address, it will most likely be some native who has no idea his hut is being presented as a nursing school.”
Kurt stroked the side of her face. “Don’t worry, Gloria. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
“That’s what I thought when I went to Miami, then to Windy Key, then to see the Murrays.” Here came her tears again.
“I know it’s frustrating. But we’ll figure it out. There’s a reason the Puglisis took your baby and lied about it. A reason everything we’ve found points back to you. Maybe the answer isn’t in Haiti but we have to look there.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You with me?”
She smiled, wiped her tears. “I’m with you. Let me just book this trip to Haiti.”
Gloria got up and flipped open her laptop on the desk. She’d insisted on paying the airfare this time since he’d refused any payment from her and had paid for their flights to Portland and New York. She’d made a point to call Tommy from the house this morning before they went to New York so he’d see the caller ID. He’d believe she was home, staying in Bradfield and dropping her quest.
At this point it was safe for Gloria to use her credit card, Kurt figured. No one would be tailing her.
“Once I finish up, we’ll get a good night’s sleep.” Kurt grinned as he watched Gloria hitting the keys to make the reservation. Much as he wanted to make love again, the idea of just sleeping together was tempting. There would be plenty of time for passion later. She was right; they needed to let their bodies rest.
4.
Maison D’Espoir, Miami, evening
Martine stood by Dr. Tad’s bed in his cottage, gazing into the large empty black suitcase. She wished he would come home soon and relieve her worry. Last night, he had not returned from the government offices. He had called from Port au Prince and mumbled that his arm was hurt and that he couldn’t drive. “I’m getting a hotel room and I’ll be home tomorrow. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” He had sounded drunk.
“Did you get my passport?” she had asked.
He had slurred his next words and she hadn’t understood him. Then he hung up. She had waited in his bedroom by the phone all night, hoping it would ring but he had not called back.
In the morning she dressed and went to the clinic but Dr. Tad was all she could think about. There were no patients, so she had sat all day, worrying.
When night fell she decided to pack in order to prepare for Belize. She snuck one of Dr. Tad’s large suitcases to her cottage. Martine did not own a lot of clothes and the giant suitcase was too big for her meager belongings. She had filled the extra space with fluffy Maison towels and bottles of shampoo. Martine did not own anything special to pack. Not one thing. Dr. Tad was the only thing of value she had ever wanted and he was going with her. She had smiled again.
And then she came back here to his cottage and started to go through his clothes. When he did come home, they were leaving that very minute. He would have her passport and tonight they would leave. If he had not hung up the phone last night, that was what he would have said, she was sure of it.
Martine stood in awe when she examined the contents of his closet. For such a plain man, he owned a lot of shirts. None of them were nice and they all mostly looked the same: short sleeve white or tan with a collar. No need to bring that many of the same. She pulled some shorts and slacks off the hangers and put those in neatly.
She looked around his room. What else would he want to bring?
Many books filled his bookcases but she did not know which ones were special and which were not. He could not take them all. If they had more time, they could arrange to take all their things. But when he came home with the passport she was grabbing the suitcases and leaving. No looking back.
She smiled when she saw the carved giraffe on his bedside table. Martine had made that for Dr. Tad two years ago, had carved it in her spare time and covered it in shoe polish. She had been afraid he would laugh at it, say it was a worthless piece of wood. But he had loved it. “I’ll treasure it always,” he had said. She picked up the giraffe and rolled it up in another plain shirt.
“Martine!” Dr. Tad called from the front hall. She slammed the suitcase lid down and ran to him.
Dr. Tad stood, holding his arm. His eyes looked funny. Distant. Sick.
He sat down on the couch. “I’m not okay, Martine.”
The bandage she had applied to his hand had been replaced by one that covered his whole arm. Carefully she peeled it off, wincing at what she saw. The small cut from the fence had turned into a gaping hole encircled by black flesh. The wounded skin was dark pink, blue in some spots. The color traveled up beyond his elbow. She had never seen anything like this before.
“What happened?”
“It’s the cut from the gate.”
“No, that was a small wound.”
“It’s Necrotizing Fascitis. It spreads fast.”
“Well, you come to the clinic. I will fix this for you. I will clean it and give you medicine. Some cream.”
“I need more than that.”
He tried to stand up but nearly fell over so sat back down. She touched his good hand to comfort him. She felt his forehead and pulled her hand back quickly. “You are burning up.”
He looked up to her and his eyes said too much. He was dying. She had seen this look too many times. She put her fingers around his wrist and felt his heartbeat pound too fast for a man who was so still. She looked again at his arm. Th
e skin was dead. If it had spread this much so soon, where would it be tomorrow? His shoulder? His heart?
“M pa konprann. I do not understand. What are those words you said for what is wrong with you? Do not use the big words.”
He clenched his teeth when he spoke, trying to form his answer around his pain.
“Streptoco-“
“I do not know what that means. Just use words I understand.”
“It’s bacterial. You know strep throat? It’s a kind of strep bacteria.”
She nodded her head and pulled him up from the couch toward her. “Then we can fix it. I will give you amoxicillin.”
“That won’t do any good. It won’t fix this. We can’t fix this. Not here. We don’t have the equipment. We’d need another doctor.”
“Why did you not go to the hospital in Port au Prince?” She hated to yell at him but as his flesh died, so did every dream of happiness she ever had.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone. I had to come back to make sure you were safe.”
“Come. I will give you some antibiotics and clean out the wound. Then Boris will drive you back to the city.”
“No. I don’t want to leave you.”
“I will come.”
“No, you have to stay here, for your passport.”
She knew he did not want to die but that is what would happen if she did not do something quickly. The passport and their escape could wait.
He walked by her side, leaning on her. “Let’s just wait till morning. Please. I’m so tired. We’ll go to the hospital and you can give me a shot to numb it. Maybe if you clean it out really well and put more cream on it, and I double up on the Cipro I’ve been taking it will help.”
“Will it?” She wanted to believe, but did not.
“It’s the strongest thing we have here.” He took a deep breath and held it, then slowly let it out. His body trembled when the breath left him and she knew he must be in agony. “Look up Necrotizing Fascitis online.”
She spun around to face him. “I do not know how to spell that. I am not a doctor. You taught me well but I am not smart like you. I cannot look up medical words on the computer and try to understand, in English, what other doctors have written about how to fix it.”
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