Lock, Stock and Secret Baby

Her voice was louder than she intended. Blake knocked on the bathroom door. “Eve? Are you all right?”

She didn’t want to deal with him. This wasn’t his problem. Lowering her voice, she demanded, “Why, Dr. Prentice? Why would you do this?”

“Ray’s research indicated the optimum condition for development comes when the biological mother carries the fetus and bonds with the infant.”

Biological mother? Bonding? None of what he’d just said made sense. “I ought to hire a lawyer and sue you.”

“Don’t bother. When you came for your examination, you signed a consent form.”

With a jolt, she remembered being handed several documents on a clipboard. “You told me it was a routine medical procedure.”

“If you like, I can fax you a copy.”

He knew her too well, knew that she wouldn’t bother to read the fine print. She had trusted him. “I have to know why.”

“To create the second generation.”

“Second generation of what?”

From outside the bathroom door, she heard Blake. “Who are you talking to, Eve?”

“I’m fine,” she told him.

“Unlock the damn door,” Blake said.

“In a minute.”

She moved to the farthest wall of the bathroom beside the toilet. A magazine stand held back issues of Psychology Today. Guest towels with a teal-blue border hung from a pewter rack. She spoke into the phone. “Signed consent form or not, this was wrong.”

“What’s done is done,” he said.

“I’m not ready to be a mother.” Everything in her life would have to change. She’d have to find a way to juggle work and child care. There was so much to learn, an overwhelming amount of research. How could she manage? “Maybe I should give the baby up for adoption.”

“That would be a mistake.”

“It’s not your call, Dr. Prentice.”

“Let me give you something else to consider. Do you remember five years ago when I had you on medication?”

The earlier scare about possible radiation poisoning. “Another lie?”

“I’m a scientist,” he said archly. “I don’t deal in ethics. Five years ago, the medication I gave you was actually a fertility drug that encouraged ovulation. You produced several eggs which I then harvested during your physical exam. I used those eggs to create embryos.”

“My egg?” The impact of this new information hit her hard. “You implanted me with my own egg?”

“The fetus you’re carrying is biologically your own.”

My baby. Her hand rested protectively on her stomach. She felt a deep, immediate connection. This is my baby.

“This entire process would have been far less complicated,” Dr. Prentice said, “if Ray had agreed to facilitate. He had a decent grasp on your psychological development and could have convinced you that having this baby was a good idea. Brilliant, in fact. You’re lucky to take part in—”

The room started to spin. Eve never fainted. But her knees went weak. I’m having a baby. She collapsed with a thud. The phone fell from her limp hand onto the tiled bathroom floor.

Chapter Three

Eve heard the sharp rap of knuckles against the bathroom door—a faraway sound, like pebbles being tossed down a well.

Blake called through the door, “Are you all right? Eve, answer me.”

She wasn’t all right. Too many variables swirled inside her head. Nothing made logical sense.

“I’m coming in,” Blake said.

The doorknob turned. Through a haze, she saw him come closer. He knelt beside her. His fingers rested on her throat, checking her pulse.

“Locked door,” she said. “How did you …”

“Picked the lock,” he said. “Can you sit up?”

“I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. Her eyelids closed, shutting out the light and the intolerable confusion. Her mind careened wildly. How could she be pregnant when she’d never made love? She had the result without the experience. People told her sex was great, but she hadn’t tested the theory, didn’t know for sure. There was a lot she didn’t know, like how to be a mother. Would the baby look like her? A girl baby or a boy? Oh, God, what would she tell her parents?

She was aware of being lifted from the bathroom floor and carried like a little girl. If only she could go back to those more innocent times. Her childhood memories were happy. Not idyllic, but happy. Her parents had loved her, even though she had never quite fit in. She always felt different, like an alien girl who had beamed into their normal world from the planet Nerd.

When she opened her eyes, she was stretched out on the leather sofa in Dr. Ray’s office with her feet elevated on a pillow. A crocheted green-and-yellow afghan covered her. Blake pressed a cool washcloth against her forehead.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she whispered.

“I know.” His smile reached his eyes, deepening the faint, symmetrical lines that radiated from the corners. Though he had no reason to care about her, he seemed concerned. Maybe Mr. Perfect had a heart, after all.

Her hand lingered on her flat stomach. An intuitive urge to protect the baby? She couldn’t count on motherly instincts to show her the way. There were books to be read. More information was vital. She’d need a regimen of special vitamins and exercises. “I should go.”

“You’ll stay here tonight. I have an extra bedroom.”

“Is that an order?”

He arched one eyebrow, disrupting the precise balance of his features. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know.” She also knew that he couldn’t stop himself from being bossy. With an effort, she swung her legs down to the floor and sat up on the sofa. The washcloth fell from her forehead. She wasn’t dizzy, but an edge of darkness pressed against her peripheral vision.

He placed a bottle of water into her hand. “Drink.”

No objection from her. Rehydrating her body was a very good idea. Tipping the bottle against her lips, she took a couple of sips. The cool liquid tasted amazing. A few drops slid down her chin, and she wiped them away.

Though she didn’t feel capable of running a mile, her strength was returning. Arching her neck, she stretched.

“Does anything hurt?” Blake asked.