Most Wanted (11 page)

“No, but we're exploring it.”

“I don't want to explore it.” Christine noticed that both Lucy and Michelle had fallen abruptly silent. “Is that what this is about? You think we want an abortion?”

“No.” Michelle shook her head, her eyebrows sloping unhappily down. “Christine, on the contrary, my point in bringing Lucy into our session is to show you that your risk of a hereditary issue with your baby is low.”

Lucy nodded. “That's correct. That's my sole purpose in being here. I would never dream of directing you, one way or the other. I'm non-directive by training as well as by nature. I view myself as someone who can offer you the best available information with which to make your decision. You make your own decision, as a couple.”

“Do people abort for something like this?” Christine asked, surprised.

Lucy nodded. “We have had patients terminate for less than this, and we don't judge them. Some patients terminate pregnancies for reasons relating to the health of the child. Others terminate pregnancies of healthy babies for a variety of reasons. It's well within the parameters of the law, in the first trimester.”

“I'm not talking about whether it's legal.” Christine didn't want to get into a political debate, but she couldn't hold her tongue. “I mean, I believe it's a personal choice, but I don't want to abort this baby.”

“Fine,” Marcus said abruptly.

“Good, it's settled,” Christine said, but she felt shaken to her core. She realized that Marcus must have been thinking about their getting an abortion, but it hadn't even occurred to her.

Michelle checked her watch. “Okay, folks, I believe Dr. Davidow is free, and he wants to touch base with you both.”

“I'd like that.” Marcus jumped to his feet. He went to the door, and Christine felt the distance between them growing, with her on one side and him on the other, as if the tectonic plates beneath their feet were suddenly shifting, destabilizing their marriage.

“Me, too,” Christine said, rising on shaky knees.

 

Chapter Nine

“I'm so happy to see you,” Christine said, surprised to find herself tearing up when she gave Dr. Davidow a hug as soon as she'd entered his office.

“I'm happy to see you, too, Christine.” Dr. Davidow released her with a broad, sympathetic smile. His eyes were large, round, and warmly brown, and they were his best feature, mainly because he looked everyone right in the eye, connecting with confidence. His crow's-feet were well established, since he was in his late forties, and his bulbous nose was an unfortunate echo of his round, bald head. Still, he had always had a big smile for her, even through the toughest times.

“This has
not
been easy,” Christine blurted out, relieved to release the pressure that had been building up inside. She couldn't shake off what Marcus had said in the counseling session. She hoped he didn't mention an abortion to Dr. Davidow.

“I'm sure. I can imagine. As my daughter says, I feel you.” Dr. Davidow turned to Marcus, extending a hand. “I'm sorry this has been so difficult.”

“So am I.” Marcus shook his hand, more stiffly than Christine would have liked, then sat down. She sat down in the leather chair next to him, feeling almost at home in Dr. Davidow's office. She had gotten some of the worst news of her life here, but more recently had gotten the absolute best, and even in the circumstances, she still trusted their doctor. His office reflected his personality: friendly, unstuffy, but still furnished in a classy way, with a polished glass desk that was remarkably uncluttered except for a new desktop and photos of his family, in matching glass frames. His framed diplomas, certifications, and various awards lined the walls, attesting to the fact that he was one of the top reproductive endocrinologists in Connecticut, and his bookshelf held medical books, more family photographs, and his adored, built-in tropical fish tank. A bluish light glowed faintly from the surface of its water, and a bright yellow fish swam by, wiggling its filmy tail fins.

“So, how did your meeting go with Lucy and Michelle?” Dr. Davidow went around the side of his desk, pulled out his black leather chair, and sat down, patting the knot of his tie, which he had on with a blue shirt and khaki slacks under his long white lab coat.

“I thought it went well,” Christine answered, taking the lead. She didn't want this meeting to go south, like the previous session. “I feel reassured knowing that the mental illnesses that could cause somebody to be a serial killer aren't inherited. I thought that was really helpful.”

“I knew you would.” Dr. Davidow smiled again, his forehead relaxing all the way back to the top of his pate. There was a pinkish indenture where his hairline had been, and Christine tried not to look at it, because she sensed it made him self-conscious.

“But it's still a strange sensation, that our donor could be a killer. I mean, that's horrifying to me.”

“Of course, I get that.” Dr. Davidow frowned. “I wish I could give you peace of mind as to your donor's identity, but that's not possible. I'll keep lobbying on your behalf with Homestead, but to be realistic, I don't think I'll be successful.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Doctor, I'm not as satisfied with Lucy as my lovely wife is—”

“I didn't say I was satisfied, Marcus.” Christine bristled. “I said I was reassured. You said you wanted facts, and Lucy gave us facts.”

“And those facts are in dispute.” Marcus pursed his lips, turning to Dr. Davidow. “Lucy feels confident that the psychological disorders that make someone turn into a serial killer aren't inherited, but my research is to the contrary. I'm going to seek a second opinion.”

Dr. Davidow blinked. “If that's what you want to do, then you should feel free.”

Christine interjected, “Doctor, do you have an opinion about whether things like that are inherited or not?”

“I know some genetics, but Lucy is a trained and qualified genetics counselor, a true expert. She has absolutely top-shelf credentials and decades of experience. That's why I have her on staff, and I have complete confidence in her.” Dr. Davidow met Christine's eye. “I did discuss this with her, and she told me that she believes the risk of heritability of any traits or disorders was slim to none. I think you can credit her opinion completely.”

“Good.” Christine eased back into the chair. “I do.”

“I don't, but that's neither here nor there.” Marcus set his jaw. “Dr. Davidow, I'm not satisfied having hypothetical discussions about the genetic makeup of this child. I refuse to accept that you can't find out from Homestead whether Donor 3319 is Zachary Jeffcoat.”

Christine interjected, “Marcus, they're not going to tell him. They signed the contracts. There's nothing he can do.”

Marcus held up a hand to her. “Honey, let him tell me that. I believe that there's plenty he can do.”

“No, there isn't,” Christine shot back, defensive.

“Marcus, what would you have me do?” Dr. Davidow asked, his tone reasonable. “Believe me, if there was a way I could get that information from Homestead, I would.”

Christine felt her frustration boil over. “Dr. Davidow, he thinks you can pressure them. He thinks if you threaten not to send them any more patients, they'll tell you. Is that true?”

“No.” Dr. Davidow hesitated, looking from Christine to Marcus. “That won't make any difference. They're the best in the country, and all the best practices use them. In fact, they have a waiting list. If I stop sending Homestead my patients, it won't matter to them. They have legalities to think of, and they're not about to breach their contract of confidentiality with your donor, or any donor. They have a reputation to protect.”

“Okay, well, I've been investigating the legalities, too.” Marcus slipped a hand inside his suitjacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I spoke with a lawyer, and he came up with an idea. He said—”

“What lawyer?” Christine interrupted, in surprise. They didn't have a family lawyer, nor did Marcus's engineering firm. Some of his golf buddies were lawyers, but she couldn't read the piece of paper, which appeared to have letterhead embossed on the top.

“His name is Gary Leonardo. He has a law firm in New Haven. His own firm.”

Dr. Davidow cleared his throat. “I know who he is. He's a medical malpractice lawyer.”

“Medical malpractice?” Christine felt dumbfounded. “Marcus, what are you doing? Why didn't you talk to me about this? Are you going to sue Homestead?”

“Relax, and let me explain,” Marcus answered, handing the letter to Dr. Davidow. “Doctor, this is a letter that Gary wrote and wants to send to Homestead. Bottom line, it says that they were negligent in screening donated sperm in our case. It outlines a lawsuit that we could file against them, and Gary says he could have it filed by the end of next week.”

“What's the point of that?” Christine was trying to come up to speed, and Dr. Davidow's expression was changing. His face fell, and he ran a tongue over his lips. He set the letter aside, then folded his hands on his desk in front of him. His gold wedding band gleamed in the soft recessed lighting.

“So Marcus,” Dr. Davidow said, “let me get this straight. Gary Leonardo advised you to sue Homestead, which by the way, is a massive undertaking, because it has eighteen separate offices across the country and is headquartered in Wilmington, Delaware.”

“Yes, he said we have to sue under Delaware law, according to our contracts. He's not afraid to take on the big guys.”

“Marcus!” Christine couldn't contain herself, then tried to dial it back. “I know you're trying to help us, but you should've talked to me about this. You think you're going to
sue
them into telling us?”

“Yes.” Marcus turned to Christine, his expression still cold. “If our donor really is a serial killer, then I think Homestead was negligent in their screening. So does Gary. We both think Homestead should do more psychological screening of their donors, instead of worrying about whether they look like Bradley Cooper or Colin Farrell. Don't you agree?”

“I wish they had known, but I don't know if they could have done better—”

“Gary said that if he sends them a lawyer's letter”—Marcus gestured at the letter on Dr. Davidow's desk—“saying that we will file a negligence complaint and go public about their negligent practices, then they will tell us.”

“How will that make them tell us?”

“You can negotiate anything. It would be the negotiated settlement to the lawsuit. All they have to do is disclose to us whether or not our donor is Zachary Jeffcoat, and we will agree to keep confidential the lawsuit
and
the settlement.” Marcus drew himself up, inhaling. “Nobody will know that they disclosed, and their reputation for confidentiality is unharmed. And we have our answer.”

“But
suing
?” Christine asked, trying to process the information. “We never sued anybody.”

“Christine, whose side are you on?” Marcus frowned.

“Oh my God, Marcus.” Christine felt herself flush with embarrassment. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation in front of Dr. Davidow.

“You want to know, don't you?” Marcus persisted. “You're the one who started this.”

“But I don't know if I want to
sue
people, and you should have discussed—”

“Guys, time-out.” Dr. Davidow signaled a football time-out, but he wasn't smiling, and both Christine and Marcus fell silent. “Marcus, this is a major step, if you're serious.”

“I am.”

Dr. Davidow frowned. “I find it very hard to believe that a lawyer like Gary Leonardo would advise you to file a suit against Homestead and not against Families First.” He sucked his cheeks in slightly, his gaze hardening. “Are you going to sue us, too?”

“I hadn't decided that yet,” Marcus answered, his tone equally firm.

“
What?
” Christine swallowed, mortified. “Don't I have a say in this? Marcus, we're
not
suing Families First. I won't let you do that, not in my name.”

Marcus snapped his head around to her. “Honey, you're not thinking about this the right way. It's not like we'd be suing Homestead or Families First. It's only a way of formally asking them to tell us something that we have every right to know.”

Dr. Davidow stood up behind his desk. “Beg to differ, Marcus. It's suing us. I know about Gary Leonardo and how he operates. If you're suing Homestead, then you'll be joining Families First as a codefendant. You might even end up suing me, personally.”

“No, never,” Christine rushed to say. “You didn't do anything wrong!”

Dr. Davidow seemed not to hear her, walking around his desk and opening his office door. “I'm sure my lawyer would advise me to call my malpractice carrier, right now. I'm sorry, folks, but this conversation is over.”

“So be it.” Marcus rose quickly, walking out the open door.

“Marcus? No!” Christine jumped to her feet, heartsick. She had just lost Michelle and she didn't want to lose Dr. Davidow, too. She stopped in the threshold, where Dr. Davidow was standing. “We're not going to sue you, Dr. Davidow.”

“I'm sorry, Christine.” Dr. Davidow edged backwards, and a tech in the hall spotted Christine and started to wave to her, then stopped.

“Dr. Davidow, please. Don't worry. I'll talk to him.”

“It's best for you to go, Christine. And I don't think you and Marcus should come back.”

 

Chapter Ten

Christine followed Marcus through the clinic's waiting room, feeling the curious stares of the staff behind the counter. They must have figured out that something was wrong, especially because Christine always made a point to say good-bye before she left. A young couple waiting to be seen glanced up from their smartphones but quickly averted their eyes. It wasn't uncommon that couples left Families First unhappy, angry, or even teary, but Christine knew they couldn't have guessed what was going on. She followed Marcus to the exit door, which he held open for her because he had excellent manners, even if he could be a total jerk.