The Surrogate by Toni Halleen

Author:Toni Halleen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-08-14T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Eight

Hal

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2002

Morning

Carol, Jim, and I had just finished a nice cup of hospital coffee when Ruth stormed into the cafeteria, determination in her face. Before we could greet her, she shrugged impatiently and barked, “What are you guys doing?”

“Ruth, sit down,” I said. “We’re discussing our options.”

“We have no options,” she said, not sitting. “We need to go to Cally’s apartment. Now.”

I apologized to Jim and Carol, who stood up and put on their coats, ready to leave. Clearly, they’d noticed our marital tension and took it as their cue. As they left, I thanked them for all their support and wise counsel.

On the way to Cally’s apartment, the mood in the car was tense, as Ruth and I were both lost in our thoughts. Finally, Ruth spoke.

“We need advice,” she said. “We should hire a lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer, Ruth.”

“But you do real estate. I’m talking about a surrogacy lawyer. You’re always telling me that lawyers specialize and can’t be experts in all areas.”

These were fighting words and Ruth knew it. However, because I was driving, I maintained my composure until I could put the vehicle in park. As I approached Cally’s street, I was lucky to find a parking spot among the irregular piles of snow and the inadequate plowing. “Here’s a spot,” I said, pulling over to the curb a few buildings short of Cally’s. I shifted into park and switched off the ignition. The fan blower went silent. “I know the contract,” I said firmly. “I wrote it.”

We sat with that statement for a few moments. Then Ruth said what she’d apparently been thinking this whole time. “We should’ve had a real surrogacy lawyer write it.”

I took a deep breath. A distinct unease filled the car. I opened the door and cold rushed in, shaking us out of our battle positions. “Let’s go see what we can find,” I said as I climbed out over a snowbank and onto the sidewalk.

Ruth got out and followed in my footsteps. She motioned with her mitten and we trudged along the frozen, snowy path, careful not to slip or twist an ankle.

“Do you see her car anywhere?” I asked.

“Not yet,” said Ruth, but I couldn’t be certain how carefully she’d been looking.

“It’s red,” I added, but Ruth knew that. “A four-door Chevy Cavalier.” Maybe saying it would help us find it. We wandered up and down the snowy street, searching for sedans, but most of them were covered in snow, or the wrong color, or the wrong make.

“I’m going up,” Ruth said as we gravitated back to the apartment building entrance.

I pushed the button for 3F, and we waited, marching in place and seeing our breath. I jiggled the front door just in case. Ruth pressed her forehead up against the cold glass and peered in. There was a wall of mailboxes, with envelopes sticking out of the box marked 3F, which would make sense, because Cally had been in the hospital since Thursday.

“Her mail’s still there,” said Ruth.

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