last time she had seen Dr. Ray over dinner, she’d talked about prime. He had suggested—in his kindly way—that she might want to pursue deeper interpersonal relationships. Make friends, join groups, go on dates, blah, blah, blah.
She had told him that she was happy just as she was. Some people needed others to make them complete, but she was unique. Like a prime number, she was divisible only by herself. Singular.
If she was pregnant, she’d never be alone again.
One of the tests required only one minute to show results. She could look down right now and see. But the others needed five minutes, and she didn’t want to peek until all the results were in and could be verified against each other.
But she couldn’t wait. She looked down. The first test showed a positive.
Could she trust a kit from a convenience store? It hardly seemed scientific in spite of the claim on the box of ninety-nine percent accuracy in detecting a pregnancy hormone, hCG, released into the body by the placenta.
The second test repeated the positive. And the third.
She was pregnant, pregnant and pregnant.
Tentatively, she touched her lower abdomen. Hello, in there. Can you hear me? An absurd question. At this point in development, the fetus wouldn’t have ears. But they shared the same body, the same blood. The food she ate nurtured the tiny being that grew within her. The miracle of life. Amazing. Infuriating.
Damn it, this couldn’t be happening! She dug into her purse and found her cell phone. Dr. Prentice’s private cell phone number was in the memory.
He answered after the fourth ring. “I’ve been expecting to hear from you, Eve.”
“How could you do this to me?”
“I assume you’re aware of—”
“I’m aware, damn you. I just took a pregnancy test.”
“You’re upset.”
A mild description of her outrage. “You might as well have raped me.”
“Not at all the same thing. Rape is an act of violence. You received the highest quality medical care. My intentions were for your own good. I could have hired a surrogate, you know.”
“A what?”
“A surrogate mother. Some women rent out their wombs like cheap motels.”
“I know what a surrogate is.”
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
