Read Online The Surrogate, The Sudarium Trilogy - Book one by Leonard Foglia, David Richards - Free Book Online
Authors: Leonard Foglia, David Richards
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long-held belief that people had no cause to feel good about themselves, and if they did, it was probably because they’d broken a law.
The eve of the big day, Hannah did something she hadn’t done in ages. She sat on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes and prayed to her mother for strength. Then she slid under the covers and fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke, she felt more refreshed than she had in years. The bed hardly looked slept in and the pillow bore practically no crease marks. It was as if she’d lain all night long in a state of suspended animation. The calmness she had experienced on her first meeting with the Whitfields had grown into a deep serenity, a cushion of well-being that enveloped her whole body and insulated her from doubt.
An hour later, when she got into the Nova, her hand went automatically to the car radio, but she stopped herself, preferring to prolong the serene mood. Halfway to Boston, Fall River seemed light years away.
She found a parking place a half block from the clinic (decidedly it was one of those magical days) and when she entered the waiting room of Dr. Johanson, she had a similar impression of heightened silence, silence distilled of all its impurities.
The receptionist acknowledged her arrival with a nod. At first Hannah didn’t notice the Whitfields, who were seated in the corner, side by side, their backs erect, their hands folded on their laps.
Jolene had traded her usual flamboyant garb for a simple, tailored gray suit and she gave a tiny wave of the hand, as if a more demonstrative greeting might somehow jeopardize what was a very special morning. In a voice barely above a whisper, Marshall said, “We’re with you all the way.” They looked like nervous parents at a PTA meeting.
The door to Dr. Johanson’s office swung open and Letitia Greene slipped out. As soon as she saw Hannah, her face lit up and she balled her hand and shook it, a gesture that Hannah interpreted as one of victory or solidarity. Hannah sensed that they all regarded her differently this time - not as a teenager, who had almost flunked out of high school, but as a full-grown woman, an equal, a partner.
Dr. Johanson stood in the doorway, gathering his thoughts and waiting for their full attention. He had on the white lab coat that made him look comical a few weeks ago, but this time there was a gravity to his manner that took Hannah aback.
“How are you this morning, dear? Are you ready?” he said, assisting her with her coat. Hannah was reassured to see that he hadn’t foresworn all his courtly charm.
“Yes, very ready.” Hannah thought she caught Mrs. Whitfield fighting back tears. Everyone seemed so solemn. Wasn’t this supposed to be a joyous event?
Dr. Johanson took her gently by the elbow and steered her into his office, closing the door behind them. “This is an important day for all of us,” he said, as if he had read her thoughts.
He gestured for her to sit down. “We are creating a new life and that is always a serious responsibility, never to be taken lightly, even though what we are going to do today is actually very simple. We were able to retrieve six of Mrs. Whitfield’s eggs and fertilize them with her husband’s sperm in a petri dish. In a moment, I shall be placing them in your uterus and we’ll see if they take. The instruments I use are microscopic - basically, a catheter on a syringe - and you should feel very little. But implantation is never a sure thing, so it is important that you stay relaxed, calm. That is how you can help, Hannah - by trusting me and thinking only of all the good that will come of this. Do you have any questions?”
“How long will the operation take?” she asked, determined to overlook the parched sensation in her mouth.
“Please, not an operation, a procedure. No more than ten, fifteen minutes. Afterwards, we shall ask you to eat a small snack and rest for a couple of hours, just to make sure your body has a chance to settle
The eve of the big day, Hannah did something she hadn’t done in ages. She sat on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes and prayed to her mother for strength. Then she slid under the covers and fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke, she felt more refreshed than she had in years. The bed hardly looked slept in and the pillow bore practically no crease marks. It was as if she’d lain all night long in a state of suspended animation. The calmness she had experienced on her first meeting with the Whitfields had grown into a deep serenity, a cushion of well-being that enveloped her whole body and insulated her from doubt.
An hour later, when she got into the Nova, her hand went automatically to the car radio, but she stopped herself, preferring to prolong the serene mood. Halfway to Boston, Fall River seemed light years away.
She found a parking place a half block from the clinic (decidedly it was one of those magical days) and when she entered the waiting room of Dr. Johanson, she had a similar impression of heightened silence, silence distilled of all its impurities.
The receptionist acknowledged her arrival with a nod. At first Hannah didn’t notice the Whitfields, who were seated in the corner, side by side, their backs erect, their hands folded on their laps.
Jolene had traded her usual flamboyant garb for a simple, tailored gray suit and she gave a tiny wave of the hand, as if a more demonstrative greeting might somehow jeopardize what was a very special morning. In a voice barely above a whisper, Marshall said, “We’re with you all the way.” They looked like nervous parents at a PTA meeting.
The door to Dr. Johanson’s office swung open and Letitia Greene slipped out. As soon as she saw Hannah, her face lit up and she balled her hand and shook it, a gesture that Hannah interpreted as one of victory or solidarity. Hannah sensed that they all regarded her differently this time - not as a teenager, who had almost flunked out of high school, but as a full-grown woman, an equal, a partner.
Dr. Johanson stood in the doorway, gathering his thoughts and waiting for their full attention. He had on the white lab coat that made him look comical a few weeks ago, but this time there was a gravity to his manner that took Hannah aback.
“How are you this morning, dear? Are you ready?” he said, assisting her with her coat. Hannah was reassured to see that he hadn’t foresworn all his courtly charm.
“Yes, very ready.” Hannah thought she caught Mrs. Whitfield fighting back tears. Everyone seemed so solemn. Wasn’t this supposed to be a joyous event?
Dr. Johanson took her gently by the elbow and steered her into his office, closing the door behind them. “This is an important day for all of us,” he said, as if he had read her thoughts.
He gestured for her to sit down. “We are creating a new life and that is always a serious responsibility, never to be taken lightly, even though what we are going to do today is actually very simple. We were able to retrieve six of Mrs. Whitfield’s eggs and fertilize them with her husband’s sperm in a petri dish. In a moment, I shall be placing them in your uterus and we’ll see if they take. The instruments I use are microscopic - basically, a catheter on a syringe - and you should feel very little. But implantation is never a sure thing, so it is important that you stay relaxed, calm. That is how you can help, Hannah - by trusting me and thinking only of all the good that will come of this. Do you have any questions?”
“How long will the operation take?” she asked, determined to overlook the parched sensation in her mouth.
“Please, not an operation, a procedure. No more than ten, fifteen minutes. Afterwards, we shall ask you to eat a small snack and rest for a couple of hours, just to make sure your body has a chance to settle
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