Excerpt

Is the baby all right? Jamie asked, groggy and disoriented as the obstetrician lifted the infant from the incision in her womb. Does he look like Michael? She slipped back into unconsciousness before anyone could answer, but, in a moment, she rallied again. The babys got to look like Michael, she slurred. Everyone must believe hes Michaels.

Davis had been stunned, not wanting to believe the implication of her remark. Had she been involved with another man? Surely not Jamie!

The donor. she had then murmured. Doctor Kettering, does he look like the donor?

Jamie had been inseminated! That explained Michaels moods. Davis had often wondered about his friends lack of enthusiasm during Jamies pregnancy. He must have had a problem dealing with sterility. Most men did. But something else seemed out of kilter here. Davis, being a donor, knew Doctor Kettering tried to match the donors characteristics with the husbands, but the baby was dark. Of course, Jamie was dark, but there was something else. Jamie was Caucasian. The baby had obvious Mongolian spots, the birthmark of Asians, and eyes like two lumps of coal. Caucasians eyes were usually blue at birth. Could the donor have been Asian?

Thats when Davis began to wonder. Could the baby be his? It had dark eyes, olive skin, black hair. And hadnt Neleta said the baby looked enough like him to be his son? He began to count back. The first and last donation hed made had been?how long ago? Seven months? Eight? Maybe, but not nine.

But then, the baby was premature, wasnt it? How much premature? No! He was just overreacting. It wasnt possible. Well, possible, but not probable, was it? It would be too much coincidence, but still....

Davis had left the hospital in turmoil. And now, pulling the Volkswagen into the parking lot, the turmoil returned. He had to know. Hed talk to Jamie, find out what he needed to know. Hed never reveal his secret to her or Michael, but he couldnt rest until he knew. Hurrying toward the hospital, he shoved open the door and saw Neleta running toward him, mascara tracking through freckles colored vivid in a face blanched white. Brian Phillips, who had left the hospital months before, stood with his hands in his pockets by the nurses desk. His face that had always worn indifference and a stiff surliness sagged in vulnerability, and his ramrod posture bent in a gesture that suggested the weight of something unbearable resting on his shoulders.

Whats he doing here? Davis wondered. Brian had shocked everyone with his decision to leave his profession, an ultimate display of stupidity, in Davis estimation, but the man had always seemed a little crazy to him.

Oh, Davis, Neleta cried, running into his arms, Jamies dead. Shes dead! And poor Michael....

Dead! Jamies dead? Davis stood wooden and uncomprehending. How could Jamie be dead? He had just talked to her a few hours before.

It was a blood clot, Davis, he heard Brian say.

Davis looked over Neletas shoulder and saw him coming their way, his emotions now hidden beneath a surly mask. A massive heart attack, he went on to explain, and they couldnt revive her. Incompetent fools!

Neleta instantly turned on him, eyes deep-green with anger. A flush of fury crept from her neck into her pale cheeks. You know better than that, Brian Phillips. You know everyone did their best. There was nothing anyone could do. Nothing!

Brian capitulated, averting his eyes from Neletas glare. Youre right, Neleta. Im sorry. It was my anger talking. It wasnt anyones fault. Unless it was that God of yours youre always praying to. His hard eyes burned into Davis.

Brian! Neletas shock drained the color from her face again. Davis hand doubled into a hard fist. He started to swing, but caught himself in time. Wheres Michael? he asked instead, turning on his heel and hurrying down the hall before anyone could answer, leaving Neleta staring in furious unbelief at Brian.

Davis heard a sharp slap and then Neleta running toward him. Turning toward her, he saw Brian standing rigid in the middle of the hall, the injured look of a small boy on his face, a mixture of shame and contrition. It was the first outward show of vulnerability Davis had ever witnessed from the man, except for the brief glimpse of grief just a few minutes before, when he didnt realize he was being observed.

Neleta caught up to Davis and grabbed his hand. Oh, Davis, that was horrible! How could he?

Hes hurting, Neleta. Like us, hes hurting, and the only way Brian Phillips has ever been able to deal with his hurt is through anger and insolence.

Neleta turned and looked back, but Brian had disappeared, leaving the nurses at the front desk whispering behind their hands and rolling their eyes at one another.

Lets go find Michael, Davis said. Hes the one who needs us now.

Poor Michael! Neleta murmured. Hes taking it so hard, but at least hes got the baby, a part of Jamie and himself. Thats bound to be a comfort to him.

Davis didnt answer. He hoped Neleta was right, but a bleak despair settled over him. He didnt want to think about the baby. The baby had been on his mind too much since yesterday. Yet, in spite of himself, he couldnt help remembering two dark little eyes in a troubled face and a tiny fist clenched as if in defiance of the travail he might face in his new world. Of course, Davis knew no new baby came into the world smiling. Scowls and tears were natural for any newborn, but he couldnt help wondering if the Ranick baby would have very much to smile about now or in the future.

Poor little motherless tyke, Neleta echoed his thoughts. It will be very hard on Michael, she added.

Yes, Davis thought, it will be very hard on Michael.