What a way of subtly suggesting that something terrible could happen, I thought. He saw the look on my face.
“It’s just intelligent protocol. Franklin Bliskin is probably the best maternity physician within a hundred miles. I’ve known him and his family for years.”
“I liked him very much.”
“Let’s talk about you a little. I don’t mean to seem so indifferent. What kind of auditions have you had? Where did you sing in England?”
Once he got me started, it seemed like I would never stop, but he was someone who really listened. Whether or not that was a necessary characteristic for a doctor like him, he homed in on everything, asked good questions, and by the time our salmon arrived, he’d told me he would like to hear me sing someday.
“Of course, things will be quite subdued here for a while.”
“Yes. And your mother isn’t well, either?”
He looked surprised for a moment and then nodded. “She’s the type of person who would stare down Death at her door,” he said. “I think her doctor, whom you met earlier, is more frightened of her than he’ll admit.”
He paused and smiled, but more like someone reminiscing.
“When I was younger, it was fun watching the two of them go at each other. Lovingly, of course, but like two horses tied to the same barrel and going in different directions, neither willing to turn even slightly.”
“Sounds like me and my father,” I said.
He snapped back to the present, but before he could ask why I had said that, Samantha appeared. There was that extraordinary light in his eyes immediately.
“Why did you let me sleep so long?” she asked. It seemed like she was asking us both.
“You’re sleeping because you need it, Samantha,” he said. He rose and pulled out the chair for her.
“I thought you were still sleeping, too,” she told me as she sat. She sounded a bit irritated because we didn’t sleep the exact same length of time.
Mrs. Marlene entered before I could respond and served her salad. There was a deep, dark look to her since Dr. Davenport’s father’s passing, yet she did look at me sympathetically and almost smiled.
“More test results have come in,” Dr. Davenport told Samantha. “Everything is looking very good.”
Brightness returned to her face. He leaned over to kiss her.
“When it’s all done and it happens, we have to do something to celebrate. It will be long enough from now, won’t it, Harrison?”
“Yes, it will.” He thought a moment. “I’ll take the two of you to that wonderful Mediterranean restaurant on the other side of Lake Wyndemere.” He turned to me. “It’s become Samantha’s and my secret rendezvous. No one knows us out there. Worth the trip.”
I nodded and looked at Samantha. She was thoughtful for a moment, and for that moment, I had the distinct feeling she hadn’t intended to include me in her future celebration. If Dr. Davenport noticed, he didn’t say anything. Perhaps they would discuss it later. What I did feel was how contradictory Samantha’s attitude about me was and certainly would continue to be. On one hand, I was the solution to their problem, her problem mainly, but on the other, I was a reminder of that problem, too.
I wondered… just how incarcerated would I be once I housed their baby’s embryo in my rented-out womb?
That night, when I retired to my room, I pondered the idea of writing a letter to Mummy, despite my father’s vehement threat to burn it at the door. He was at work when our mail was delivered, and I had faith that my mummy would keep it from him even though it was very rare to see her hold any secrets from my father. Usually, they were very minor things like something small she had bought for the house, usually to replace something old. For as long as I could remember, she worried about spending money on anything without my father’s approval first. How many times I recalled her looking covertly at something beautiful for the house and concluding, “Arthur would be just so irritated if I bought it.” I used to wish I had the money to buy it later.
Every time I began the letter, I crossed out the first sentence. I tried, I’m so sorry that I lied to you. I was not able to tell you the truth. Please understand what I’m about to tell you. None sounded good or adequately set the stage for an explanation that I knew would drive her to tears,