She was right. After her first miscarriage, Emerson had sunk into a dark depression that lasted weeks. She’d been unable to work in Ted’s real-estate office, which she’d been doing since before they were married. Unable to shop for groceries or straighten the house. Some days, she couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning.

“It’s the hormones,” Noelle said. “Postpartum depression. She may need some medication to get through it this time. I asked Ted if I could move in for a while and he’s all for it.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Tara grabbed her hand. “That would be such a relief to know you’re there. I can bring meals over.”

“Good,” Noelle said. “We’ll take care of her together.” She shifted her weight in the chair. Her back was seizing up as it did regularly ever since the accident. Sometimes it was impossible to find a position that didn’t hurt.

Tara glanced toward the unit. “Do you think I can see her now?”

Noelle nodded and got to her feet. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll ask them to let you in.”

They walked through the hallway toward the recovery room.

“Her miscarriages are scaring me,” Tara said. “She takes such good care of herself and does everything right, and…I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Of course you could.” Noelle rested a hand on her back. “You’re tough. But let’s hope you never have to.”

She knew that Tara and Sam were already trying to conceive and she wished them nothing but success. Their wedding day, nearly eight months earlier, had been one of the hardest days of her life. She’d felt sick that morning and wasn’t sure she’d make it to the wedding at all, much less be able to be a bridesmaid. Her illness wasn’t physical, though. She’d been sick with self-disgust. Why did people get so stupid when it came to sex? Why was it so hard to just say no? When she’d realized that night in Wrightsville Beach that Sam wouldn’t give Tara up, why didn’t she say, “I understand,” and leave? Then she wouldn’t have this unrelenting back pain or this unrelenting guilt.

Most of all, she wouldn’t have destroyed one of the richest friendships she’d ever known. Now, Sam kept his distance. He went out of his way never to be alone with her. Even Tara had noticed that something was different. “Did you and Sam have a fight?” she’d asked her a few weeks after the wedding. She’d looked concerned, not wanting a rift between two people she loved. Tara was so guileless. So trusting when it came to Sam. Noelle had laughed off the question. “Of course not,” she said. Then she’d hugged Tara hard, thinking as she held her in her arms, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

She let Tara into the recovery room but didn’t go in herself. The nurses wouldn’t appreciate a crowd around Emerson’s gurney. Instead, she walked into the ladies’ room and swallowed a few of the pills she had stashed in her pocket. She leaned back against the cool wall and closed her eyes, anxious for the relief to kick in.

She’d told everyone a drunk driver had run a red light, crashing into her as she was on her way home after a middle-of-the-night delivery in Wilmington. Ian, whom she’d been seeing ever since Sam and Tara’s wedding, wanted her to sue, but she told him the incident had seemed so minor at the time that she hadn’t bothered to get the other driver’s name. She pleaded with him not to badger her about it. She wanted that night to go away.

A woman walked into the restroom and Noelle moved away from the wall. She washed her hands and left the room and walked straight through the corridor and the lounge and out to the parking lot. She needed to go home and throw some things in a suitcase so she could move into her sister’s house.

In her car, she felt the Valium and Percocet start to kick in. Thank God. She was taking more medication these days, playing around with the cocktail of drugs. She was careful, though, trying to find a balance between keeping her back pain to a manageable level and being able to function. She didn’t ever want to compromise her medical practice or put her patients at risk. She’d known drug-addled doctors and nurses and had vowed never to be one of them. She had more sympathy for them since her back injury, though. She’d tried acupuncture, Reiki, rest, heat, ice, but nothing worked as well as a nice healthy dose of narcotics. She tried to save them for those times she knew she wouldn’t be called on to catch a baby or manage a patient’s care. On those occasions, she worked through the pain. It was a pain she thought she deserved.

She took over the guest room at Ted and Emerson’s, dragging some clothes, her medical supplies, her heating pad and drugs and her logbooks with her. For the first time since leaving home eight years earlier, she felt part of a family. She cooked and cleaned and shopped and nursed her sister slowly back to life. She listened to Emerson talk about the lost baby, the plans and hopes she’d had for him—it had been a boy—how she’d allowed herself to imagine him starting school, graduating, marrying, having kids of his own. In Emerson’s imagination, he was musical and artistic, even though she and Ted were, to be honest, neither. He would have been kind and loving, though. Emerson was sure of that and Noelle didn’t doubt it. She listened to it all, thinking, My nephew, and she felt the loss herself.

She was the only midwife she knew who had no children of her own, and her dream of having a child, of creating her own family, was growing with every baby she delivered. That longing made her look at Ian with fresh eyes.

“I admire you,” he said to her in Emerson’s guest room one night. They’d just made love in the double bed, quietly, not wanting to be overheard. “The way you stepped in and took over to help Emerson and Ted.”

Ian not only admired her, he worshipped her, the same way a few other men had worshipped her over the years. Worship had never been much of a turn-on for her. Did she love him? Yes, the way she loved all her friends, and that would have to do. There were no Sam clones around and Ian would be a good father and a more faithful husband than she deserved.

“It’s easy to help Emerson,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love her. I just want to see her happy.”

“She and Ted seem good together.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I think they are.” Ted was one of those guys who never talked about his feelings, but every once in a while Noelle would catch him doing something that touched her. The way he’d tenderly stroke Emerson’s cheek while they were watching TV, or the sad look in his eyes as he wrapped the unneeded car seat in plastic before storing it in the attic. Moments like that, she felt a hunger for something more than she had in her life.

“So, does living in this domestic harmony give you any ideas?” Ian teased her.

Usually, she would laugh him off. He’d already asked her to marry him a couple of times, but she’d told him it was ridiculously early to talk about marriage. Tonight, though, thinking about Ted and Emerson, how good they seemed together despite their very different personalities, she hesitated.

“Actually,” she said, “it’s nice.”

“Wow,” Ian said. “I didn’t expect that answer. So will you marry me?”

Now she did laugh, but she raised herself up on an elbow to look at him. “Do me a favor, Ian?” she asked.

He brushed a strand of her hair over her shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Keep asking me, all right?” She smiled. “One of these times, I just might surprise you.”



32

Emerson


Wilmington, North Carolina

2010

The night after Ian told us about Noelle’s surrogacy, I lay in bed, bone tired but unable to sleep. After leaving Ian’s office, I’d driven to Jacksonville for a too-quick visit with my grandfather, who slept the entire time I was there. That was just as well. I knew he was upset that he’d never gotten to spend time with Noelle and it hurt me to see his sadness and regret.

By the time I got home, Ian had left a number for the last woman Noelle had served as a surrogate. I was glad Ted and Jenny weren’t home yet. I sat at my kitchen table and dialed the number. The woman’s name was Angela and she sounded weepy as I explained who I was and why I was calling.

“The lawyer told me she killed herself,” Angela said. “I’m in total shock. We loved her so much. We wouldn’t have our two children if it wasn’t for her.”

“Did Ian explain that we didn’t know Noelle was a surrogate?” I asked.

“Yes. I guess that’s not a huge surprise to me, because she was a very private person. Rob and I didn’t know much about her life, either. We were nervous about using her in the beginning because she didn’t have kids of her own. They always say the surrogate should have her own family. But we’d spoken with another couple she’d been a surrogate for and they recommended her so highly, we felt confident going ahead with her.”

“So…” I was having trouble formulating my questions, even though I’d thought them through before dialing the phone, “where did she live when she was waiting to give birth?”

“When she was pregnant with our son, we put her up in a hotel. But by the time our daughter was conceived, we felt much more comfortable about the whole thing and she lived with us the last three months of her pregnancy. She was a huge help, actually.”

“Did she say why she did it?”

“She said it was her calling. That was the word she used. Her calling.”

“Did she ever seem like she was drugged to you?” I hadn’t expected to ask the question, but there it was, popping out of my mouth, and Angela didn’t answer right away.

“Why would you ask that?” she said finally. “It specifically said in the contract that she was to use no drugs without her doctor’s—and our—approval.”