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“Mrs. Dobbins made a sandwich to tide me over.”
“Good.”
“So why are you late?”
“I was almost home when I remembered something I’d left at the office and had to go all the way back for it. Myrna was still there.”
“My assistant is usually the last to leave. Unless it’s you.”
“She was finishing up some business letters and asked if I would wait on them so I could bring them home for you to sign. I have them right here.”
She tried to squeeze past his chair into the bedroom, but he caught her hand. “The letters can wait. I want to know Burkett’s reaction when you told him this was the last time you’d be meeting him. Or did you tell him?”
“I told him as soon as he arrived.”
“And?”
“And nothing, really. Once I assured him that we would adhere to the original terms if he remained the donor, he said it was all the same to him. Something like that.”
“He’s not backing out then?”
“I didn’t get that impression, no.”
“I didn’t think he would. Did you discuss how we would retrieve the semen?”
“Only in the most general terms. I told him I had to consult a specialist first. Then when he’s needed, he’d be notified.”
“Maybe the A.I. won’t be necessary. Let’s hope.”
“That’s what we all hope, Foster.”
He surprised her by pressing his hand against her lower abdomen. “I feel good about this time. Karma. Something. It just feels different, like something significant happened.”
She smiled, hoping it didn’t look shaky. “Hold that thought.” Stepping away, she said, “I really would like to get out of these clothes. You’re welcome to stay.”
“No, I’ll leave you to your shower. I’d only stay if I could offer to wash your back.”
“You can pour me a glass of wine instead. I won’t be long.”
“How about club soda? Just in case.”
“Okay.”
He kissed the air, then maneuvered his wheelchair across the adjacent bedroom and through the door, each of his motions done in a sequence of three.
Laura waited until she was alone, then closed the door to her bathroom and hastily removed her clothes. Before stepping into the shower, she worked up enough courage to examine herself in the full-length mirror. Her eyes were still glassy and dazed looking, her lips slightly abraded. She touched her nipples, navel, pubic hair.
Holding back a guilty whimper, she placed her fingers vertically against her lips and whispered, “Oh, God.” But she wasn’t certain for what, specifically, she prayed.
CHAPTER
21
THE MONTH WAS LONGER EVEN THAN ANY HE’D SPENT IN prison. Compared with this, those months had whizzed past like comets.
He’d held out for three days before doing the forbidden. He’d called the SunSouth offices. After listening to a seemingly endless menu of confusing options that required pushing a series of digits, he finally reached a human being who told him in a polite but busy-sounding voice that he had reached Ms. Speakman’s office. “Kay Stafford speaking, how can I help you?”
“I need to talk to Ms. Speakman.”
