Mother's Day Babies (Holiday Babies Series) (9 page)

Lou immediately opened his smart
phone to type the answers.

“Ian and Sharon Morev. Sharon
spent years trying to be pregnant and was dying to have a baby.”

“How did you meet them? Who was
your contact?”

Bless you, Barbara, for shooting
the right questions. All professional now, Lou waited for the information his
lawyer might need.

 “I was looking for a job after
Jennifer’s death and saw this ad in the paper. An agency organizing meetings
between couples who couldn’t have children and women ready to be surrogates.
Honestly, I had no idea what it was, but the pay was so unbelievable, I was
intrigued and called for more explanation.”

“Why did you need the money,
Monica?” Barbara asked with a gentle tone.

The young woman shuddered. “I was
all alone with no job, no education, no future. I realized I should go to
college if I wanted to be independent. The sum they promised would certainly
cover the college tuition.”

 Lou took a step forward, ready
to protest. Damn it, he’d paid for that college.

“I thought your father already
paid for your college.” Barbara arched her eyebrows, but kept rubbing Monica’s
hands. The soothing gesture seemed to work.

“I had to drop out from college
and withdraw the money to pay for Jennifer’s treatment. She had no insurance.”

Lou’s gasp echoed Barbara’s. Her
eyes filled with tears. “You spent all of it on your mother, sweetheart? Her
friends couldn’t take care of her?”

A snort escaped from Monica’s
pursed lips. “What friends? The men who lived with her over the years were a
bunch of sleazeballs. I had enough trouble keeping their hands off me when I
was a teenager.” The young woman lowered her head.

Barbara threw Lou a frantic look.
“And your mom—”

Guilt stabbed him. Why hadn’t
Monica said something? How could Jennifer let this abomination happen?

“Jennifer got upset when I
complained and ordered me to stop enticing her men with miniskirts and tight
tops.” Monica shrugged. “I couldn’t wait to go away to college. But then she
got sick and accused me of letting her die alone. I felt guilty and used the
tuition money to help her.”

Barbara reached and hugged her.
“You did the right thing, sweetie.”

“You think so? What was the use,
she died anyway?” Such bitterness blasted from her voice, his knees wobbled. Lou
clasped his phone in a tight grip and leaned on the windowsill, afraid he might
drop it.

“So you went to this agency. Do
you remember its name and address?”

Monica spelled them and Lou typed
on his smart phone.

“Then what happened, Monica?”
Barbara gently continued her interrogation.

“I met a couple, an engineer and
a teacher in their late thirties. They said I was exactly what they wanted. A
woman at the agency had me signed papers and explained I would be impregnated
with the man...” Monica cast a glance toward the window where Lou stood and her
voice died.

“We understand,” Barbara
clarified. “So it was his sperm and your ovule producing the fetuses. Not an
unknown donor.”

Lou exhaled in relief. Better
than he expected, if that awful situation could be called an improvement. At
least the father was what Lou called a normal, sane and healthy man, not an
unknown donor with who knows-what-kind of past or disease, eager to collect a
few bucks to buy drugs.

“Were they nice to you?”
Barbara’s voice sounded calm and interested, as she held Monica’s gaze. He mentally
thanked her for extracting the full story out of Monica without an outburst of
anger or a torrent of tears as he usually received when he probed the young
woman.

“Oh yes, very nice, at the
beginning. With the money I received I rented an apartment, and they furnished
it for me. They brought me food and gifts almost daily. By the fourth month,
they were delighted to know I was expecting twins. But then they started
fighting, even in front of me. They stopped coming for a few weeks. I was relieved
not to have them on my back all the time.” Monica bit her lip and hesitated.

“So they just disappeared?”

“One day, Ian showed up alone. He
said Sharon was a bitch, jealous of me. She gave him hell for looking at me and
didn’t want
my
kids. I panicked and cried. What was I going to do with
their twins?”

“What did he say?”

 “He asked if he could stay in my
apartment. I couldn’t say no after all they did for me.”

Engrossed in her story, Lou had
stopped typing. Unfortunately for her, Monica was her mother’s daughter. He
could guess the rest of her tale, but he’d let her finish for Barbara’s
benefit.

“Why would he stay with you in
particular?”
Naive Barbara
. This woman was a treasure who’d never met
the likes of Jennifer and her daughter.

“Sharon wanted a divorce and he’d
left her. He was so nice to me.” Monica’s eyes gleamed and her voice perked. “A
real gentleman, smart and generous, and a good-looking one, difficult to
resist.” She jerked a shoulder and pouted. “I thought he’d marry me. And we’d raise
our babies like a real family.”

“Monica, you didn’t...” Barbara
jumped to her feet.

“Well, I’m only twenty-two. I had
beautiful dreams for the future. I’m not a saint like you, Mrs. Ramsay. Are you
going to abandon me now like my father?”

Abandon her like her father
.
What about all the gifts, and money he’d sent her over the years? Fuming with
repressed anger, Lou narrowed his eyes, ready to give her a piece of his mind.
How like Monica to throw back a stone at those who helped her. The little shrew
knew how to manipulate Barbara’s feelings.

“Calm down, Monica. I didn’t
expect you to be a saint. I have five daughters. The youngest is your age. They
all had problems at one time or another. Continue with your story,” she coaxed.
“If Ian was so nice, why were you calling for help?”

“Because he left me after only three
months. When I grew big and tired, the jerk disappeared for days. Then he came
back one time and explained he reconciled with his wife, but she didn’t want
these
babies, not after he slept with me. He took off and left me on my own. I called
Lou when I felt cramps. I thought I was going to die all alone. And my babies
were going to die too.” Tears rolled on her pale cheeks.

“Monica sweetie, I’m glad you
shared your sad story with us. We’re going to do everything possible to help
you. Now, it’s late. You should go to sleep.” Barbara hugged her. “We’ll see
you tomorrow, okay.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ramsay. Thank
you so much.”

Barbara turned toward him and
crossed her arms. Her eyes flitted from him to Monica with a crystal clear
order. His lips thinned at the smirk on his daughter’s face. But for the woman
who’d become so dear to his heart, he approached the bed and placed a quick
kiss on Monica’s forehead.

A lump blocked his throat and he
couldn’t utter a word.

He straightened and studied the
pretty face on the pillow. Pity invaded his heart. Poor little girl who’d never
had a wonderful mother like Barbara.

He was to blame too for letting
Jennifer block his way. He could have given Monica so much if only she’d kept a
civil tongue in her mouth and offered him a smile. Too late now, he’d learned
not to expect anything from her. He turned and reached the door.

“Lou,” Monica called.

He froze in his tracks and spun.

“Thank you for coming and for
bringing Mrs. Ramsay.”

Befuddled, he stared at her and
nodded. It was the first time in her life that she’d thanked him and he didn’t
know how to answer.

Chapter Eight

After a difficult night, where
sleep eluded her for hours, Barbara woke up at dawn and headed to the bathroom.
A hot shower would relax her stiff back and help her organize her thoughts in a
rational way. She’d bet Lou hadn’t fared better with his sleep. He’d hardly
said two words after they left the hospital and immediately retired to his
room. Yesterday had been a long day with the flight from Paris, Monica’s
delivery, and the emotional recount of her pregnancy.

Barbara had to admit that her
five daughters put together hadn’t given her as many headaches as Monica was
serving her dad, or maybe her well-educated daughters were better equipped to
cope with their problems. Anyway, Barbara had always lent a supportive
shoulder, wiped tears, and patiently listened while brewing a coffee and
serving cookies. More recently, her daughters had benefitted from an excellent
support system, with husbands or boyfriends taking active roles.

Poor Monica had no one. Always
generous, Lou signed checks without hesitation, not realizing that his daughter
was in fact begging for his time and affection. How could Barbara encourage him
to be more involved in Monica’s life when Lou considered himself a victim
too—the father rejected and deprived of his child for years?

Last night in Monica’s hospital
room, Barbara heard his heavy breathing and gasps of outrage as his daughter
blatantly accused him of neglect.

Rejuvenated by the sting of hot
water on her back, Barbara dressed and debated whether to order coffee or go to
the hotel cafeteria. The phone ring chimed in the silence. She glanced at the
digital clock. Only 6:15.

“Lou, you’re already awake?”

“I haven’t slept much. I’ve just
ordered a breakfast for both of us. Can you come?”

Hmm, did he take it for granted
that she wouldn’t mind going to his room? Or was he so dazed by his sleepless
night that he didn’t even consider the implication of his request?

Oh bugger, why make a big deal
out of his invitation? Monica’s problems had surely bonded them more tightly
than a few kisses.

“A strong coffee would be heaven.
We have a lot to discuss.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

He did. The door swung open at
her fist rap. Lou closed it behind her, enfolded her in his arms, and pressed
her against him in a strong hug. The mingled aroma of freshly brewed coffee and
Lou’s aftershave greeted her. “My dear Barbara, I don’t know what I’d have done
without you yesterday. I’m sure...”

The warmth of his body enveloped
her as snugly as his arms. Although she knew he was thanking her for her help
with Monica, she lost track of his words and focused on the firmness of his
chest, the softness of his fingers along her throat, the longing and fervor of
his lips on her cheek.

As if the time elapsed between
their last kiss in Paris and now had suddenly abated. Her eyebrows rose and she
held his gaze. “Lou, I was glad to be at your side, to—”

His mouth crushed on hers. She
parted her lips and welcomed him, wanting him to know she shared his feelings. When
he deepened his kiss, she linked her fingers behind his neck and responded with
equal ardor, not caring if she could hardly breathe. His mouth trailed to her
jaw, to her cheek and her temples and lingered on her closed eyelids. Her head
tilted and his lips skated along the length of her throat. Tingles prickled her
neck, arms, and chest.

His hands massaged her back and
slid to her sides. If they kept up their treacherous motion to her front, she’d
soon melt in his arms and lose control of her senses. She jerked back, cupped
his cheeks, and kissed him on the mouth. He indulged her with a searing kiss
but continued his arousing caress, his fingers moving ever so slowly to her
breasts.

Unable to accept the challenge to
her senses, she snatched her mouth away. “No. Bad timing, Lou.” She dropped her
head in the hollow of his neck. “We need to discuss some problems,” she
muttered with effort.

His heavy breathing fanned her
hair and he loosely wrapped his arms around her back. “Yes, bad timing. As if I
could forget about Monica and her problems.”

As if there would ever be a good
time for her with so many kids and continuous problems around her. “I could use
a strong coffee.” She smoothed her shirt and combed her hair with her fingers.

“Me too.” He straightened, strode
to the countertop, and poured two cups.

Bending over the cocktail table,
she prepared a plate of bagel and cheese and handed it to him. They settled in
the comfortable chairs and sipped their morning coffee.

“So what’s the schedule of the
day?” She realized the stupidity of her question and laughed. “Other than going
to the hospital, is there anything else we need to do?”

“I already left a message for my
lawyer. He’ll call soon. I want him to get me information about the Morevs,
their financial status, jobs, etc... If they don’t want the babies, I’ll ask
them to sign a release to avoid later complications in case they change their
minds in a few years.”

“Oh I didn’t think of that.
You’re right.” Barbara appreciated his keen mind. Lou would take care of the
legal and financial details.

“The question is, can Monica keep
her babies and raise them, or would it better for the sake of the children to
put them into an adoption program?” He raked a hand through his hair and mussed
it.

“Well, Roxanne did—”

“Your daughter is a responsible
person. Besides, she had a good job, a great pay, and plenty of support.”

“I know, Lou. Monica will need a
huge amount of support. Not just your money.”

“Be realistic. She’ll need
twenty-four-seven help. Not a simple nanny but someone with experience to
compensate for her own lack of experience. Her only role model has been her
lousy mother who gallivanted from one lover to another. I don’t want these
babies to end up being neglected the way she was with Jennifer. Here we’re
talking about two kids, not one.”

Barbara pinched her lips but held
his gaze. He had a point. Could his daughter sacrifice her freedom to stay home
with babies? Wouldn’t she get bored and frustrated after a while? Roxanne had
met Greg and he considered her children his own.