Eva’s objections—and her bizarre accusation that Lara wanted to insure a stake in Eva’s money—put Lara in a dark mood for the rest of the weekend. The Sunday morning church service, which usually lifted Lara’s spirits to a peaceful plateau, did nothing to brighten her mood. For his text the minister read the Genesis story of Jacob and Rachel. Lara had just begun to relax in the love story when the pastor read Rachel’s plea, “Give me children, or else I die!” Lara crumpled in the pew, certain that the minister had somehow read her mind.
“Rachel was not wrong to want a child,” the minister explained, “but she was wrong to accuse her husband for not providing one. God is the creator of life, and he gave Rachel a son in the proper time.”
Through the rest of the sermon, Lara held the preacher’s words at arm’s length, turned and twisted them, looked at them from above and below. Was she wrong to want a child? No. And her husband had done his part to provide one—though it was definitely a twenty-first-century means of provision. Would God give Lara a son in the proper time?
After church, she swam against the tide of fleeing members and managed to catch the pastor and his wife at the front of the auditorium. “Please, Pastor Jim,” she said, imposing an iron control on her rambunctious emotions. “I need a moment. I know it’s Sunday afternoon and you probably want to get to lunch somewhere—”
“We’ve got as long as you need,” her pastor answered, taking his wife’s hand. “Stephanie, if you’ll get the kids, I’ll have a moment or two with Lara.”
The pastor’s wife slipped away, and Jim led Lara to the front pew, where they both sat. Looking at her hands, Lara spilled out her thoughts. Jim had stood with her and Michael through everything—the cancer, the chemotherapy, and the funeral. He had supported Michael’s decision to freeze a sperm sample for possible future use.
“I feel really strange, talking about all this here.” Lara spread her hands, indicating the pulpit and communion table only a few feet away. “But I’ve done nothing but think about this all weekend. I need to know—do you think a baby could be in God’s will for me? Am I doing the right thing?”
Jim turned and rested one arm on the back of the pew, then folded his hands. “Lara, God is nothing if not relevant to contemporary life. He knows all about science and genetics, and he knows the desires of your heart. If you’ve really prayed about this thing, if you’ve sought wise counsel, and if all the doors remain open, I see no reason why you shouldn’t proceed.” His blue eyes flashed a gentle but firm warning. “Just remember that childrearing is a spiritual responsibility as well as a blessing. You’ll not only have to be responsible for this baby’s physical and emotional development, but his or her spiritual growth, too. And unless you marry again, you’ll have to bear that responsibility alone. ”
Lara glanced to the back of the auditorium, where Pastor Jim’s wife was leading their five-year-old twin daughters down the aisle. “I know,” she whispered, her heart aching at the lovely sight.
And on Sunday night, after two days of prayer, consideration, and debate, Lara found that her desire to have Michael’s baby had not faded. If anything, it had grown stronger.
A smudge of sun dappled through the rain-heavy cloud cover on Monday morning as Lara urged her sputtering Maxima to life. Connor had a point; the car probably did need a tune-up, but after her disastrous lunch with Eva, Lara had hidden herself away in the house, not even responding when Connor rang the doorbell late Saturday afternoon. She hadn’t wanted to make polite conversation with Michael’s friend; she certainly didn’t want to stare at her car’s guts and feign an interest in oil and engines.
She saw movement from the corner of her eye, and turned. In the twin driveway next door, Connor O’Hara was tenderly wiping the dew from his car, a vintage cherry-red Mustang convertible. The car had appeared only a month ago, replacing a battered nondescript sedan, and though Lara didn’t know much about cars, she knew this one screamed Expensive. How he could afford such a thing on a reference librarian’s salary, she couldn’t guess.
Maybe he was playing the stock market. Maybe he read the Wall Street Journal every day and had gleaned some hot tips. If so, maybe he’d share the wealth and help her increase her little nest egg—just in time for the hatchling.
She really ought to apologize for not making herself available over the weekend, especially since he’d been kind enough to offer to check her oil.
Connor lifted his gaze as Lara revved the hiccupping engine, and as their eyes met he managed a hesitant wave. She answered with a quick swipe of her hand, then paused as he mouthed something she couldn’t hear over the noise of the motor.
She rolled the window down and leaned out of the car. “What?”
Connor’s ruggedly handsome face shifted into an embarrassed expression as he left the Mustang and walked toward her. “Sorry,” he called, his brown eyes serious above his polite smile. “I don’t want to slow you down. I just said I was sorry I missed you this weekend.”
“It’s my fault. My mother-in-law took me out for lunch, and I was so drained by the experience that I came home and took a nap.” She lifted her left hand in a halfhearted wave, then shifted into reverse with her right. The engine began to hum on another note, and Connor halted in the grass.
His smile broadened. “Was it that bad?”
“It’s all right. And I really appreciated your offer.”
Lara gave him a final wave, then rolled down the driveway. She paused in the street and watched Connor walk back to his car with that easy noiseless tread that probably sprang from prowling around the university library all day. He probably was as nice as he seemed. Michael had really liked him, but then again, Michael liked almost everybody.
Sighing, she shifted the car into drive and tried to turn her thoughts toward the day ahead. Olivia had scheduled a full day in the office since Dr. Renee Stock, the other OB/GYN, was on call at the hospital. Unless an emergency arose, the day should be boringly routine: Pap smears, breast exams, and an endless stream of lectures on the importance of both. An entire morning and afternoon of watching women kick off their shoes, grimace, and step on the scales. Blessed normalcy, without time to think about personal dilemmas.
She drove too fast into a school zone, then cringed as the crossing guard wagged her finger in warning. Lara obediently braked hard, then bit her lip as the car crawled forward. She was running late because she’d spilled coffee on her uniform at the breakfast table. She was also feeling bloated and irritable, certain signs of PMS.
Another month without Michael, another month without a baby. Her body felt as empty as the bright nursery next to her bedroom.
When the traffic light ahead clicked from red to green, Lara pressed on the gas, hoping to make up for lost time. If Olivia came in early, Lara might be able to catch her before the place filled up with prying eyes and sharp ears.
“You’re thinking about what?” Dr. Olivia Densen-Braun stared over the rim of her coffee cup, her mask of professionalism shattering.
“Please, not so loud.” Lara cut a glance to the doorway of Olivia’s private office. The other staff members were milling about in the hallway, and she didn’t want any of them to know what she was considering. If she decided not to opt for motherhood, she didn’t want to endure a constant stream of comments on all she’d miss by never having a baby.
Olivia quirked her eyebrow. “Do you want to close the door?”
“That would only draw their attention.” Lara sank to the love seat before Olivia’s desk and clasped her cold hands. “Michael and I always planned to have a child. I’ve been thinking that maybe the time is right. ”
“But surely you don’t want a baby now.” A flicker of unease stirred in the depths of Olivia’s soft blue eyes. “It’s too soon, hon.”
“It’s been six months. And it’s not like the baby would come tomorrow. I’ll have time to get ready, time to adjust.” Lara felt her cheeks flush against the cool air in the small office.
Olivia eyed her with a critical squint. “I have no problem with artificial insemination. My concern centers on the fact that you’d be raising a child alone. Parenting is hard work, especially if you have a professional career. Helmut and I have never even considered having a child.”
Lara sighed as the words rang in her ears. She’d heard a paraphrase of this from Eva. Didn’t anyone think about the joys of parenting anymore?
“I’ve been considering it carefully and I know I want Michael’s child. All I have left of him is a collection of old clothes, a few watercolors, and a bunch of baseball trophies. I need something more. I wanted a baby when Michael was alive, before the cancer. Now I’m twenty-nine, at the peak of my reproductive years, and I still want a baby. There’s no social, moral, or ethical reason why I shouldn’t have Michael’s.”
“I’m not questioning your right to have a baby”—Olivia lowered her coffee cup to her desk—“just your sanity. What about the expense—do you know they say it will cost more than six hundred seventy-nine thousand dollars to raise a child born today? You’ve got to think about college and schools, and those expensive gadgets all the kids want these days.”
“I make a good living. And I’ll make do the same way everyone else does—I’ll shop at discount stores and try to get the kid a scholarship.”
Olivia leaned back and crossed her arms in the posture she always assumed when she lectured pregnant teenagers. “Lara, are you sure you want to take on the responsibility of a baby? Children complicate things. You’re young; you’ll probably marry again. You might even fall in love with a nice guy with four kids of his own.”
A reluctant grin tugged at Lara’s mouth. “That’d be okay, I guess. Four kids, five kids—aren’t they cheaper by the dozen?”
Olivia wasn’t amused. “What about your career? If you take an extended maternity leave, I’ll have to hire someone else to fill in for you. Of course I’ll try to work things out when you want to come back, but I can’t guarantee you’ll work as many hours. I don’t know if we can keep two physician’s assistants busy.”
“You don’t have to feel responsible for me. This is my own decision.” Lara looked Olivia directly in the eye, her confidence spiraling upward. “Michael’s life insurance money will provide enough for us to live on for the first few years. We had always planned to put away enough for me to take an extended leave when a baby came, but then Michael got sick and our savings dried up. There’s money in my savings account again— but I never thought it would come the way it did.”
A long, brittle silence fell between them as Olivia studied her desktop and searched for words. “Are you quite certain”—her eyes brimmed with concern—“that you aren’t considering this just because you miss Michael? I don’t mean to sound cold or heartless, Lara, but you’ve got to realize . . . having Michael’s baby won’t bring him back.”
Lara forbade herself to tremble, then drew a deep breath. “I know Michael is gone,” she answered, her voice firm, final. “And I’d like to have his baby. And if I decide to go ahead with my plans, I’d like you to be my doctor.”
Olivia didn’t protest again. Her blue eyes deepened with understanding. “We’ll talk about that”—she uncrossed her arms—“after you make a final decision. Before you do, however, I’d suggest that you ask Helmut to run a complete genetic analysis on Michael’s specimen.”
Lara’s mind whirled. “Michael’s mother insisted on the same thing.”
“Really? Good. One of Helmut’s research teams is working on a project that tracks genetic predisposition to various cancers. I don’t know all the details, but I do know they’ve isolated a gene that makes carriers susceptible to certain types of carcinomas. Since Michael died so young—”
“You think my baby could inherit the same kind of cancer Michael had?”
Olivia reached out to caress her coffee cup. “I’m not sure, hon. I just want you to take precautions.Michael’s genetic history is at issue, as is the age of the frozen sperm. Some men with normal reproductive potential produce sperm that do not survive freezing. There is a great variation in survival among different specimens. Helmut can examine the cells for you, check out the genetic markers, and make certain that the sperm are still motile.” Her voice softened. “I’d hate for you to risk all your hopes on a procedure that may not succeed.”
“I think it will work.” Lara’s eyes drifted toward the framed picture of Olivia’s cats, the only decorative item on her crowded desk. “I’ve been praying about it. And I have this feeling that God wants to grant the desire of my heart.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Olivia’s voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, but the effect was as great as if she’d shouted in Lara’s ear. “I know you’re a religious person, so perhaps you should consider that fate ruled against you. Maybe this child was just never meant to be.”
“I don’t believe in fate.” Lara gave Olivia a smile. “Not an unavoidable fate, anyway. God gives us free will. The challenge lies in making the right choices.”
Olivia looked at Lara with a smile in her eyes. “Then I hope you make the right one.”