“So—what’s the verdict, Doc?” The teenager on the examination table looked up at Lara through half-closed lids. “Was the home pregnancy test right?”
Lara laid the girl’s file on the tray and leaned against the wall. “Yes. You are pregnant.”
The girl closed her eyes. “Wouldn’t you know I’d have lousy luck. My first time and here I am, pregnant by some guy I’ll never see again.”
“The father has a right to know.” Lara picked up the chart again. Adrienne Mittroff, age fifteen, in the tenth grade at Charlottesville High School. Perfectly healthy—and six weeks pregnant.
Adrienne sat upright and pushed a strand of fine golden hair from her face. “The father? I don’t even know his name. He was just some college student I met, and next month he’ll be going back to wherever he came from. I wouldn’t know how to find him if I tried.”
Lara lowered her eyes, resisting a sudden urge to shake some sense into her patient. She and Olivia encountered pregnant teenagers nearly every day, but they never ceased to frustrate Lara. Some came to the office in tears; others walked in clutching a stick from a home pregnancy test kit. Many, Lara knew, left the Women’s Clinic and drove straight to the nearest abortion provider.
“Adrienne, it’s important that you realize you’re carrying a new life within you.” Lara folded her arms over the patient’s chart and met the girl’s bewildered gaze straight on. “Some people will try to tell you that the fetus is just a blob of tissue, but it’s not; it’s a tiny baby. If this pregnancy is a problem, we can refer you to several different groups that offer support services, including housing and adoption counseling.”
“I’m going to keep it.” Adrienne leaned back on her hands, and her gaze fell to the floor for an instant. “I always wanted something that’d be all mine.”
Lara bit her lip. “A baby is not a thing, Adrienne. Your little boy or girl is a special person, and the baby deserves a loving home with parents who are prepared to sacrifice for him—”
She stiffened as her own words reverberated in her ears. Parents? She was planning to offer her own baby just one parent. But she was a medical professional, an adult, and a mature woman. She was certainly more qualified to parent than this naive fifteen-year-old.
Lara moved to the desk, then grabbed a notepad and began to write out the name of a local counseling center. “Adrienne, promise me that you’ll see someone at this center. I applaud you for wanting to give your baby life, but there’s a lot of work involved in raising a child.”
“Not so as I can see.” Adrienne slipped from the exam table and moved toward the curtained cubicle where she’d left her clothes. “My parents never did much with me. Anybody could do a better job than them.”
Lara stood in dumb silence as the girl retreated behind the partition and began to dress. Where was the justice in life? This girl, this child, would give birth to a baby in less than nine months while Lara, an educated, responsible adult, had to practically beg permission and approval from everyone she knew before she could even think about having a baby.
“I’m going to write you a scrip for prenatal vitamins,” she called, reaching for her prescription pad. “Be sure you have it filled and take the vitamins regularly. If you have no insurance or can’t afford the vitamins, let me know, and I’ll put you in touch with someone from social services.”
“Okay,” came the voice from behind the curtain. “Cool.”
The sun lay half-hidden behind the distant mountains by the time Lara pulled onto her street. She had stayed late to talk to Olivia about Adrienne Mittroff, and the conversation had confused Lara further. In the exam room, she had been a breath away from lecturing Adrienne about the importance of giving a baby a loving home with two parents, yet her child, if she chose to have it, would have only one. Of course she’d tell her baby about Michael and her child would always know he was loved and desperately wanted. And as strange as it felt to admit it, Olivia was right, she might marry again one day, so her child wouldn’t be fatherless forever . . .
She pulled into her driveway, turned the key, and waited as the engine skipped and shuddered into stillness. The old Maxima definitely needed a tune-up, but she’d have to wait until Saturday to take it to a mechanic.
She gathered her purse and a few files she wanted to review, then slid out of the car and slammed the door with her hip. She hadn’t gone two steps when a male voice shattered the stillness and made her jump.
“Good evening.” Connor’s head and shoulders appeared from behind the Mustang. He must have seen her startled reaction, for his mouth curved in an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you.”
“It’s okay.” Lara managed a smile, then walked to her porch. While she opened her creaking mailbox, her thoughts turned again to her neighbor. Connor O’Hara seemed to be a nice guy, and he’d lived in the complex at least as long as she and Michael had. On many afternoons she had come home to find Michael and Connor on the couch, sipping Cokes and watching baseball, but Connor almost always dismissed himself when she started rattling pots and pans in the kitchen. He had definitely kept himself at arm’s length, at least where she was concerned.
One afternoon, as Connor slipped out the door just after Lara had come in, she jokingly asked Michael if their neighbor was afraid of her. “No.” He grinned as if she’d just told the world’s funniest joke. “He’s just jealous.”
“Whatever of?”
“Me.” Michael wagged his eyebrows, Groucho Marx-style. “He thinks you’re beautiful and smart, and he’s a little frustrated with the singles scene.”
Lara felt herself flush at the compliment; then she shrugged it away. “He’s a decent-looking guy. I can’t see why he’d have any trouble finding someone to date.”
Michael took another swig of his Coke, then waved his hand. “He dates, but it would take someone special to hold Connor’s attention. He reads a lot and he’s smart. Like professionally intelligent. He knows everything.”
Lara laughed in spite of herself. “Nobody knows everything.”
“Yeah, but Connor knows more than most. He’s a walking, talking encyclopedia.”
The memory faded as Lara looked across the lawn. Mr. Encyclopedia was sitting inside his car now, energetically polishing the dash. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if she interrupted him. Maybe a man who knew everything could give her a bit of unbiased advice.
She dropped her mail and files by the door, then walked to the edge of her porch. “Connor?”
His dark head popped out of the car, and he paused to swipe at a leaf that had blown onto the windshield. “You need something?”
“Yes. Your opinion.” She clung to the porch pole and stepped forward, the toes of her shoes hanging over the concrete edge. Both Eva and Olivia would say she was crazy for asking a mere acquaintance about such a private matter, but they hadn’t exactly been able to give impartial advice. Olivia didn’t want to lose a staff member, and Eva obviously didn’t want to deal with a grandchild born over a year after her son’s death. The blue-blooded guardians of Charlottesville society would have a grand time speculating about that scenario.
“You want my opinion?” Connor slipped through a gap in the hedge and came toward her, wiping his hands on a dingy rag as he approached. “Gee, that’s different. All day long I hear requests for information, but no one wants to know what I think.”
Lara tilted her head. “I thought you were a librarian.”
“Reference librarian.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “In the I-gotta-have-an-answer-now section of the university library.”
Lara felt an unwelcome blush creep onto her cheeks. She’d known this guy for five years, and she had no idea what he did? “Sorry. I guess I thought you spent all day shelving books.”
“It’s okay.” He gave her a look of faint amusement. “How can I help?”
“It’s silly, really.” Lara gripped the porch post with both hands. “In fact, I probably have no business asking you this, but I can’t seem to get a straight answer from anyone else. I thought maybe you could offer an opinion, since we don’t know each other well.”
His dark brown eyes were soft. “I feel like I know you. Michael and I talked quite a bit—mostly at the end, when he would set up his easel out on the lawn. I used to come out and talk to him before I had to go to work.”
For a moment Lara couldn’t answer. Memories came crowding back like unwelcome guests—Michael hobbling in front of his easel after they amputated his leg, Michael sitting in front of his easel as the cancer gnawed away at his bones. She could imagine that Connor had been helpful even then, moving the easel, helping Michael carry his watercolor box, perhaps even commenting as Michael mixed his colors and sponged his paper. And Michael, the world’s most confident extrovert, had basked in Connor’s attention, rambling about his work, his dreams, his wife.
“What do you want to know, Lara?”
Connor stood beside her porch now, waiting. Lara ran her hand through her hair as if the gesture could sweep the cobwebs of memory from her brain. “What do you think about single parenting? Michael and I always talked about a baby, and—well, he made arrangements. I can have his baby if I want to. But is it fair to bring a baby into the world when its father is dead?” Her gaze lifted to the western horizon, the sunset-and-pond landscape she and Michael had admired a thousand times. “I’ll take some time off, so my career isn’t the issue, but what if I get pregnant and decide this wasn’t such a good idea? Or what if I find out I’m not cut out for motherhood after the baby’s born? Maybe God kept me from getting pregnant while Michael was alive because he knew I wouldn’t be a good mother. Or maybe it’s not his will for me to raise a fatherless baby.” She paused, grateful for the deepening dusk, when her eyes filled with tears. Maybe Connor wouldn’t notice.
“I believe”—a strange, faintly eager note filled his voice—“you’d make a wonderful mother. I watched you with Michael, after he got sick. You were always patient and loving, even when I knew you’d been up half the night. You displayed gentleness, kindness, and love. What more could a baby need?”
Gathering her courage, she shifted her gaze to meet his. A wistful look had stolen into his expression. “I used to watch you two when you sat on the park bench over there, every night at sunset. I’ll admit, sometimes I envied Michael for finding someone like you. And I think you have more than enough love to share with a child.”
Lara swallowed hard. “What about not having a father? Am I being unfair to the baby?”
“I wouldn’t advise every woman to go out and have a baby just because she wants one.” Connor scuffed the toe of his sneakers into her bare flower bed. “But your situation is different. You had a husband; you can have his child. And doesn’t God promise to be a father to the fatherless?”
Lara’s brows lifted. He knew the Bible? “You reference librarians know a lot, don’t you?”
Connor laughed softly. “Reference librarians know a little about lots of things. But I grew up in a minister’s home. My father’s still pastoring a church in Lynchburg.”
The corner of Lara’s mouth twisted. “You’re lucky. My parents have been gone for years—they were killed in a car wreck while I was in college. They never even knew Michael. But I’ve still got Eva—Michael’s mother. So my baby won’t be totally alone in the world.”
“Then I’ll be praying that you make the right decision.” Connor looked up and lifted his hand; for a moment she thought he intended to squeeze her arm. But he only wiped his palm on his shirt and gave her a bemused smile. “Bottom line, I think you’d be a wonderful mother.”
Lara turned on her bed and draped her hands over her head, trying to block the cuckoo clock’s midnight warbling. It was no use. Though she felt achy and exhausted, her brain hummed with a million thoughts. Sleep would not come until she had dealt with them.
She flung off the quilts and left her bedroom, padding over the carpet to the small would-be nursery. The bright yellow walls seemed faded in the moonlight; the rainbow wallpaper border shimmered in shades of black and gray. The room seemed as empty as a tomb. The hospital bed had been taken away and all that remained of her dreams was a squeaky old dresser that had served her own childhood.
She crouched in the darkness and opened the bottom drawer, then felt for the silky fabric of her baby book. Finding it, she sank to the floor and pulled it onto her lap, then lifted the book into a stream of light from the streetlamp outside. Lara Michelle Petersen, her mother had lovingly inscribed with a fountain pen, born October 14, 1970, weighed eight pounds, two ounces and was twenty-one inches long. On another page, her mother had carefully listed every baby gift and the day it was acknowledged with a thank-you note . . . just as Lara had recorded every wedding gift and funeral bouquet.
She closed the baby book and hugged it to her chest. Why had she known so much sorrow? She had lost her parents and her husband in a relatively short time. The Bible said that to everything there was a season, a time to be born, a time to die, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to cry and a time to laugh. There was a time to grieve and a time to dance—but Lara had endured more than a season of tears and sorrow. She wanted to laugh, to welcome a birth, to dance in joy.
Michael would approve of her pregnancy. Eva would eventually get over her initial disapproval, and Olivia would hire another physician’s assistant until Lara wanted to come back to work. But was it the right thing to do?
Lara lifted her eyes to the ceiling, hoping to find an answer in the interplay of shadows and plaster swirls. “Please, Father, will you give me an answer?” she begged, searching her heart for the voice that had spoken to her on other occasions when she sought God’s face. “I’ve asked everyone but you for an opinion, and I need your wisdom. I want this baby, Lord, but if it is not the right thing, show me. I know you can heal my broken emotions. But I can’t help feeling that you’ve placed this desire in my heart, so let me know if it’s right. Please, Lord, show me what to do.”
She sat silently, her arms wrapped loosely around her bent knees, while the wind whistled outside and the branches of a dogwood brushed against the windows. After a moment, she obeyed a deep-seated impulse and pulled her Bible from the top of the dresser, then opened it to a passage in Proverbs.
Her gaze fell upon a verse that might well have been the only one on the page, for none of the others registered in her brain. Her voice trembled as she breathed in the words: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when dreams come true, there is life and joy.”
Hope deferred—she certainly knew about that. She had postponed her dreams of children; she had pushed aside life itself while Michael battled his cancer. After each treatment and surgery, they had treasured a hope that the cancer had been arrested, only to find that it hadn’t. For some reason, God had deferred their hopes for years, allowing them to experience heart sickness, but—when dreams come true.
Not if dreams come true, but when! With pulse-pounding certainty, Lara knew she had discovered God’s answer.
She lowered her Bible to the floor, then lifted her hands in the golden glow of the streetlamp. “Oh, God,” she whispered, her throat clotting with emotions too deep to verbalize, “how good you are to me! Thank you, Father, for your goodness. Thank you for not forgetting me.”
A profound and steadfast peace stole over her spirit. For the first time in days she felt truly calm. She pressed her hand over the lace of her nightgown and smiled at the grateful pounding of her heart.
Perhaps Eva was right. Motherhood might bring pain, but God had just promised that it would also bring life and joy. Eva would never understand Lara’s conviction, but only because she had never waited on God or heard the clarity of his inaudible voice.
Lara laughed, the sound muffled against her hand as she pressed it over her lips. A baby. No matter what anyone said, she knew there would be a baby. Michael’s baby.
She knew about the risks of love. Loving Michael—a carefree, unemployed, outgoing artist—had been a risk, too, but she had never regretted a single moment she spent loving him. Now she was ready to pass that love to their child.
The promised child of life and joy.
The next afternoon, Lara caught herself glancing uneasily over her shoulder as she walked toward Olivia’s office. The hallway was quiet now, the other staff members busy with their end of the day routines. The front doors had been locked promptly at four thirty, and Lara had made short work of dictating her notes for the transcriptionist. Her decision weighed on her mind, and she needed to speak to Olivia as soon as possible.
She cleared her throat, then leaned into the doorway. Olivia sat at her desk, and Dr. Helmut Braun, her husband and partner, sat in a chair at her right hand. Their heads, one silver and one blonde, were bent over a case file.
“Knock, knock.” Lara deliberately kept her voice low. “If you have a moment, doctors, I’d like to speak to both of you.”
“Thank goodness, an interruption.” Olivia looked up from the chart and dropped her pencil onto the desk. “Sheesh, what a day.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Remind me, Lara, never to schedule two initial visits in the same morning. Today I had two teenagers, both scared as cats in a dog pound. Don’t mothers prepare their daughters for anything these days?”
“Drinking and driving, maybe,” Lara answered, entering the office. “And AIDS.” She nodded a hello to Dr. Braun, then perched on the edge of the love seat. “If this is a bad time, I could wait and speak to you later.”
Olivia dropped her hands into her lap, then gave Lara a weary smile. “I can tell from the look in your eye that it can’t wait. You’ve had that look all day.”
“What look?”
“The look that tells me I’m about to lose the best physician’s assistant I’ve ever had. Is this about the pregnancy you’re considering?”
Lara saw the smile hidden in the corner of Olivia’s mouth, then nodded in relief. “I’m not considering it anymore. I’m going to proceed.” She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and slid it across the desk. “If you really meant it when you said you thought the specimen should be checked for genetic abnormalities—”
“I meant it.” Olivia picked up the registration form.
“—then there’s the reference number, Michael’s full name, and all the other pertinent information. His specimen is stored at the university’s cryogenics lab.” She turned to Dr. Braun, whose attention had returned to the case file on the desk. “In your area, sir.”
Olivia tapped her nails upon the desk, then handed the paper to her husband. “You can take care of this for us, can’t you?”
“What’s this?” Helmut picked up the registration and studied it, his square jaw tensing. “Who is Michael Godfrey?”
“Lara’s late husband.” Olivia gentled her voice. “Surely you remember the funeral. The young man who died last October—”
“I remember.” Dr. Braun looked up. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, sir. But I’m ready to stop thinking about my loss and start thinking about the future.” Lara chose her words carefully in the hope that Dr. Braun would understand the significance of her request. “Michael’s sperm deposit is all I have left of him. I haven’t made this decision lightly.”
“She’s concerned about the age of the deposit,” Olivia added, turning to her husband. “As well as the possibility of a cancer gene. Her husband died of bone cancer.” Her gaze arched back to Lara. “If he finds a problem, you’ll want to drop the idea, right?”
“No.” Lara twisted her hands in her lap and looked at Dr. Braun. “If for some reason the specimen isn’t ideal, I would appreciate anything you could do to help me have my husband’s child. I know they’ve made tremendous advances in gene splicing. If there’s a way to identify the gene and eliminate it, that’s what I want to do.”
Dr. Braun lifted his head like a cat scenting the breeze. “Interesting,” he murmured, his gaze falling again upon Michael’s registration slip. “Extremely intriguing. The Human Genome Project has discovered several genes that could play a role in the development of bone cancers— the other afternoon I was reading about two, EXT1 on chromosome eight and EXT2 on chromosome eleven. If those genes are present, it might be possible to remove them.” Two deep worry lines appeared between his silver brows as he studied the registration. “Provided the DNA strand is still in good condition.”
“Will you help, Helmut?” Olivia leaned her elbow on the desk, eyeing her husband with a critical squint. “She needs to know if you’re willing to do this for her.”
Dr. Braun pinned Lara in a long, silent scrutiny, then handed the registration slip back to her. “How badly do you want a baby, Ms. Godfrey? If I find EXT1 or EXT2, will you automatically consider another option? Artificial insemination by donor is an option, you know. Many women are opting to become mothers through AID.”
Lara shook her head. “I want my husband’s baby, not a stranger’s. I’m not in love with the idea of being pregnant or being somebody’s mother. I want to have Michael’s baby. He always wanted kids—it was one of the few dreams we weren’t able to make come true.”
A thoughtful smile curved Olivia’s mouth as she nudged her husband. “So what do you think? It might be a great research project for you, a sure way to get your name in the medical journals. Think of it as modern technology put to use on a human level.”
“I would need to know”—Dr. Braun stared at Lara with an almost deadly concentration—“if Ms. Godfrey is truly committed. This might require a great deal of work, and if she cannot commit to see it through . . .”
Lara met the doctor’s worried eyes without flinching. “I’m not a quitter, Dr. Braun, and I know how much work is involved. But I believe I was meant to have my husband’s baby, so I will do whatever is necessary. There’s only one thing that concerns me.” Her gaze caught and held Olivia’s. “The expense. I have some money put away, but I hadn’t counted on an intensive laboratory procedure.”
Helmut leaned back and clasped his hands around his ample middle. “We can find the money. One can almost always find grants for cancer research.” He paused and looked at his wife. “You are happy about this?”
“Not really,” Olivia answered, her voice dry, “but if a baby will make Lara happy, I’ll get used to the idea.”
The older man tapped his fingers on Olivia’s desktop, his brows knitting as he stared at Lara. “If I find no sign of a suspicious gene, you can proceed with artificial insemination. However, AI would not be my method of choice if the DNA is flawed.” He gave Olivia a bright-eyed glance, filled with shrewdness. “If we must manipulate the genetic strand, we ought to consider in vitro fertilization. It is a more tedious process, but ultimately more controllable. We can be certain that fertilization has occurred.”
Olivia nodded. “IVF is the best way, Lara. We’ll use drugs to stimulate your ovaries, then we’ll fertilize several eggs with DNA-altered sperm. If we’re fortunate, the fertilization will result in several embryos, one or two of which will be transferred into your uterus—”
Lara held up her hand. “We can’t do it that way. Embryos are babies and I’m not going to leave them in cryogenic storage. No way. You can harvest several eggs and freeze them, but you can only fertilize one. If the fertilization fails, we can try later with another egg, but no baby of mine and Michael’s is going to be flash-frozen forever.”
Olivia gave Helmut a long warning look; then the researcher sighed. “All right. We’ll use just one egg, but you have to realize that the odds for successful fertilization will drop considerably if we do.”
“I’m not worried about the odds.” Lara flashed Dr. Braun a quick smile. How could she explain the peace that had filled her heart? God had given her a special promise—not if the desire comes, but when. “I’ll be the best patient you ever had, Doctor. I won’t complain, and I’ll take my meds on time. I’ll do whatever you tell me to, because I’m certain this procedure will result in a healthy, happy baby.”
“Will you wait a couple of months?” Olivia asked. “You probably need some time to get used to the idea of changes in your life.”
“I have too much time on my hands now.” Lara looked at the geneticist and lifted the registration slip. “I’m ready to begin whenever you are. Take Michael’s information, have a look at the specimen, and tell me what you find. I’ll be ready to proceed as soon as you say it’s okay.”
Dr. Braun paused for a long moment, his hands on his knees; then he took the paper from Lara’s hand. “Well, ladies,” he said, slipping the information into his pocket as he stood, “I am glad we have had this discussion. It could prove to be an interesting project.”
Lara’s heart sang as he turned to his wife. “Liv, go ahead and work up a calendar for Ms. Godfrey. You know the drill, fifty milligrams of clomiphene on the fifth day of the menstrual cycle for five days, then an ovarian sonogram. If she responds, we’ll proceed with follicular aspiration.” He tugged on the lapel of his lab coat and smiled at Lara. “While Liv takes care of you, I will thaw the specimen and take a look at what made your husband tick. Perhaps we will get lucky and find that he was quite an ordinary fellow.”
Lara grinned. “I don’t think anything about Michael was ordinary.”
Helmut smiled, a rare sight, then nodded. “Excuse me, Ms. Godfrey, but I have a dinner appointment.” He bent to kiss his wife’s cheek. “I’ll see you at home, but I’m certain I will be late.”
Olivia murmured a farewell, then waited until Helmut had walked down the hall before looking at Lara again. “So.” She leaned forward, her hands on the desk. “Have you thought it all out, counted the costs, so to speak?”
Lara forced dignity into her voice. “I have.”
“Have you told Michael’s mother that maybe, just maybe, she might soon be a grandmother?”
Lara looked away. “That news”—her cheeks flushed—“can wait until after I’m pregnant.”
Olivia leaned back in her chair and grinned. “Coward.”
“I know.” Lara gave her friend a wry smile as she stood. “But you’d do the same thing in my shoes.”