Whispering Hearts Read online

  Samantha opened the door, and we were immediately greeted by Dr. Bliskin’s nurse, a woman who looked no more than forty, if that, with short light-brown hair. “Mrs. Topper, RN,” was on her breast label.

  “Dr. Bliskin wants to start with you in his office, Mrs. Davenport,” she said.

  For a moment, it felt as if I were the one accompanying her. Mrs. Topper barely acknowledged me with a glance. We followed her to the first door on the left and entered an office with a desk upon which were a number of framed photographs of very young children.

  “He’ll be right in,” Mrs. Topper said. She finally smiled at me to acknowledge my presence. “Just make yourself comfortable.” She nodded at the chairs in front of the desk. “We’re all very excited for you,” she told Samantha, who thanked her.

  Did she think Samantha was having her own child? Did she think I was some servant or friend accompanying her and nothing more?

  “She’s very sweet,” Samantha said after Mrs. Topper left. “She’s been with Franklin ever since he started his own practice here. Oh, these children are his triplets.” She picked up one of the framed photos that had all three, not looking much more than six or seven months old. “They were all born prematurely. Touch and go for about a week, but they all survived.”

  “Does Mrs. Topper know anything about our potential arrangement?”

  “Whatever Franklin told her,” she replied, and sat, her face frozen in anticipation.

  Moments later, Dr. Bliskin entered. “Ladies,” he said.

  Dr. Bliskin looked to be about six feet tall, with dark-brown hair that was a shade lighter than black. He had hazel eyes and a dark complexion, the complexion of someone who had just returned from a restful vacation in the Caribbean. Unlike Dr. Davenport’s, his face was not as well chiseled. His cheeks were fuller and his forehead wider, but he had a strong-looking mouth and a firm jaw. When he looked at me, his smile deepened with a pleasant surprise. There was a delight in his eyes that immediately relaxed me.

  “And you must be Emma Corey,” he said. He extended his hand and then looked at Samantha and nodded, as if confirming something she had told him. “So,” he said, walking quickly behind his desk. “Everything I have so far from the hospital is A-plus.”

  “Results already?” I asked.

  “I know somebody who knows somebody,” he joked. There was a very youthful glint in his eyes. He turned to Samantha. “Do you have any questions, Samantha?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve explained to Emma how much confidence we have in you, Franklin.”

  “Thank you. Well, then, why don’t you give me a couple of hours with Emma?” He looked at his watch. “Come back about twelve thirty.”

  “Oh, no. I want to wait here,” she said firmly.

  He nodded and turned to me. “I understand Dr. Davenport gave you a heads-up on what we’ll do here today?”

  “Somewhat, yes,” I said.

  “I’ll explain it more as we go along. Feeling okay? Even going to a hospital for routine tests can exhaust you.”

  I took a deep breath. I could sense Samantha’s eyes were intensely focused on me. This was another moment of decision, another chance to spin around and head home. There would be one more, but after that…

  “I’m okay,” I said. “Everyone’s been very considerate.”

  “Good to hear. Okay, then, why don’t we get right to it?” He rose. As if she could see through the walls or perhaps had her ear to the door, Mrs. Topper opened the door.

  “Mrs. Topper will get you all set,” he said. “Samantha, you’re welcome to stay in my office if you like.”

  I could almost feel it. She wanted to be right beside me just as she practically was at the hospital. She looked at Dr. Bliskin, who sensed what she wanted and shook his head slightly.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said.

  I started out.

  “Emma,” she called. I turned to her. “Don’t be frightened.”

  “Why should she be?” Dr. Bliskin answered for me.

  “I would be,” Samantha replied.

  He smiled at me, and in his smile, I saw he understood everything. It was hard to explain it, but I could feel his self-confidence just as I could feel Dr. Davenport’s, only his had something extra. There was warmth attached.

  Later, at lunch, Samantha wanted me to describe everything. I could see she was still annoyed that she wasn’t right there, practically lying beside me, experiencing everything I had. I wasn’t about to tell her some of the things Dr. Bliskin had said, either. Throughout it all, his questions revealed how surprised he was that I had agreed to be a surrogate, even knowing how much money I was offered.

  “I don’t know as I can describe the tests accurately,” I said. “While it was going on, I closed my eyes and tried to mentally transport myself to a park. He was very gentle and considerate of my feelings the whole time. I think any woman would be comfortable with him.”

  And then, the first time I directly challenged what she was doing and paying to have me do, I added, “I’m sure he could alleviate any woman’s fears about her own pregnancy. She would have no regrets.”

  “If he assures us you’re in perfect health for what has to be done, he’s alleviated mine,” she said, smiling. Either she didn’t get what I was implying or she chose to ignore it. “Anyway, there’s nothing left to do but wait, which will hopefully be shorter than we expect.”

  When it came time to leave to return to Wyndemere, she hesitated before we walked to the limousine.

  “I wish I could take you away until this was over, but I should be at Harrison’s side during this troubled time.”

  “I’ll help as much as I can,” I offered.

  “That’s so sweet. I wonder if I would be the same if the shoe was on the other foot, but you’re not expected to do anything.”

  When we arrived at Wyndemere, we saw half a dozen cars.

  “Harrison’s medical associates paying their respects, I’m sure,” she said.

  “What do I do?” I asked. What I meant was, How are you going to explain me? And how are you going to explain not being there before they arrived? Would she be out shopping at a time like this?

  “Nothing. You simply showed up at an unfortunate time. Remember. You’re my college friend. We had some things that had to be done. No one will question us. Just relax.”

  “Okay,” I said, and we entered.

  We could hear soft conversation in the living room. When we stepped into the doorway, everyone stopped talking. Dr. Davenport was on the larger settee, two younger men in jackets and ties sitting beside him and two older men and a gray-haired woman in a jacket, skirt, and blouse outfit sitting on the other settee. Two more older men, who looked like they would probably be Dr. Davenport’s father’s friends, were standing.

  “How’s Mother?” Samantha asked without waiting for me to be introduced. I thought it was interesting how in front of others, she would refer to Elizabeth Davenport as “Mother.” It implied a far warmer relationship than the one I had witnessed so far.

  “Calmer,” Dr. Davenport said. He nodded at one of the men across from him. “Marvin is looking after her for me. You remember Dr. Wasserman, Samantha.”

  “Of course,” Samantha said.

  Everyone was waiting for her to introduce me, but she seemed stricken with a case of stage fright.

  “This is Samantha’s friend from college, Emma Corey,” Dr. Davenport said.

  “Oh, yes, sorry,” Samantha followed. “Emma was an exchange student from England who unfortunately has arrived to visit me at a difficult time.”

  Everyone nodded at me, everyone but the older lady, who stared with skepticism.

  “Exchange student?”

  “Yes. Of course, she wanted to go home, but I assured her Harrison would appreciate her staying as long as she likes.”

  “Where are you from in England?” the older lady asked.

  “Guildford.”

  “Yes, I know it well. I did
some work at the Imperial College in London and took a few weekends there, but that was quite a while ago,” she said wistfully. She looked at the others, who nodded and smiled.

  “This is Dr. Durring,” Dr. Davenport said. “She’s the head of our pulmonary department.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Friday,” Dr. Davenport told Samantha, as if he wanted to avoid the word funeral. “At eleven. St. Christopher’s.”

  “I can’t get it through my mind,” Samantha said, her lips trembling.

  No one spoke.

  I took her hand. “Perhaps we should go rest,” I suggested.

  She nodded quickly. “I’m sorry,” she told Dr. Davenport’s friends.

  We turned and hurried to the stairs.

  “You don’t have to go to the funeral, of course,” she said as we started up. “We’ll just tell them you left.”

  “Oh. Well, I…”

  “I’d rather you didn’t go,” she said firmly. “More explaining to do. There’ll be so many people there.”

  “But, afterward… you’ll surely have people come here and…”

  “No one will come up to your room. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. You must be very tired. I am. Tests take something out of you, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, but she hadn’t had the tests. I had.

  She hugged me at my bedroom door. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

  I watched her hurry away and went in to take a nap. There was no doubt in my mind that she was going to do the same. I ended up sleeping for hours. When I awoke, it was dark, and I saw I had slept past six. The house was very quiet. I was a little surprised that Samantha hadn’t woken me. I rose, washed my face to really wake up, and then stepped out. I wondered if any more people had arrived, but I didn’t hear any voices, so I went to Samantha’s bedroom door and knocked softly. There was no response. I thought perhaps she was waiting for me downstairs, so I started for the stairway. Before I got there, I heard a door open and close and saw Mrs. Cohen walking toward me.

  “How did it go for you today?” she asked as she approached.

  “I think well, but I’m on some hormones, and we have to wait.”

  “Yes, I know.” She seemed to be studying me. “This is quite the commitment for someone so young to make. Your reasons are none of my business, but I would assume primarily money.”

  “What other reason could there possibly be?”

  She nodded. “If everything goes forward, I’ll do my best to make sure you’re comfortable.”

  “Thank you. How is Mrs. Davenport?”

  “She’s not a well woman. All the concentration these past few years has been on Mr. Davenport, but she has some serious medical issues. She does a good job of covering them up, keeping herself busy, but as long as I’ve been employed here, I’ve known her to be in some pain. It’s probably what makes her appear so irritable at times.” She nodded at the stairway. “Going down?”

  “Yes.”

  She followed closely behind me and then went directly into the kitchen. I looked into the living room. No one was there, so I had started for the dining room when I saw Dr. Davenport coming down the stairs. He moved quicker when he spotted me.

  “Samantha’s still asleep,” he said. “She doesn’t show it, but this is a very emotionally exhausting thing. Hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “Me, too.”

  We headed into the dining room. There was a setting at the head of the table and two on both sides of it. He moved quickly ahead and pulled out my chair.

  “Samantha will be down in a while,” he said when Mrs. Marlene looked in on us. “What’s the menu tonight?”

  “Grilled salmon.”

  He looked at me.

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  She disappeared, and he sat.

  “I’ve heard from Dr. Bliskin. You’re batting a thousand so far. I think we can get you started sooner rather than later. On the day of the transfer, I’ll have the money deposited into your account. If I might suggest, we should put it in a money market so it earns a little interest while you remain here. I’ll take care of all that for you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Franklin was quite impressed with you. He claims you’re the most mature eighteen-year-old he’s seen.”

  “I’m practically nineteen.”

  He laughed. “Yes, that accounts for it.”

  I laughed at myself. I think it was the first time I’d really laughed since I had arrived at Wyndemere. It was as if a thick black curtain had finally been lifted and we were all suddenly just people.

  Mrs. Marlene began to serve our dinner.

  “I take it you haven’t mentioned any of this to your family,” he said, filling my glass with water.

  “No. They think I’ve taken a role in a regional theater.”

  He nodded. “I’d be more comfortable about it, however, if you gave me all the details concerning your family, address, phone numbers. No one else will have it but me.”

  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 no
ticed, 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, despite the amount of money involved. I was still struggling with it myself. Despite going through the exams and preparations, every once in a while, I had the urge to burst out of my bedroom and flee.

  I was especially vulnerable to this during the period of mourning for Dr. Davenport’s father. Although he hadn’t come to me to discuss it, he obviously had approved of Samantha’s idea to keep me well out of the public eye. She visited with me whenever she could and rattled on and on about the services, things people had said, and especially Elizabeth Davenport’s condition. Perhaps not so amazingly, I had not seen her since that first day. The few times all week that Samantha thought it was safe for me to wander about the house, Elizabeth was bedridden.

  Toward the middle of the following week, Dr. Davenport came to see me to tell me that Parker was taking me and Samantha to see Dr. Bliskin early in the morning, well before his regular office hours.