Chương 9
“You look terrible,” Luke said when Harrison answered by video.
“It is six hours earlier there. You have had more time to improve.”
Luke sat in a hotel room wearing a wrinkled sweater. Behind him, Clara slept beneath a coat on the sofa. Emma was not visible.
“Mother is flying over,” Luke said.
“What?”
“She booked a ticket to Edinburgh.”
“Why?”
“To control us in person.”
“Do not let her.”
Luke looked toward the sleeping Clara. “That has historically not been our strongest skill.”
Harrison opened the fertility records Martin had obtained with his authorization. Consent forms. Donor profile. Payment receipts. His signature appeared on every important page.
“What do you remember about when I told you?” Harrison asked.
Luke considered. “You were drunk.”
“I was not.”
“You had three martinis.”
“That is not drunk.”
“You cried in a hotel bathroom because the sink had separate hot and cold taps.”
Harrison looked at the screen. “I did not cry.”
“You said you had spent your entire life being trained to inherit a name your body could not continue.”
“I said that?”
“You also said the hotel carpet smelled like soup. The evening contained several truths.”
Harrison rubbed his forehead.
Luke leaned closer. “Why did you choose donor conception instead of adoption?”
“We considered both.”
“That was not my question.”
Harrison looked at the donor profile. Six feet two. Brown hair. Gray eyes. College rowing. Graduate degree in architecture. No major medical history reported at the time of donation.
“He resembled me,” Harrison said.
“Yes.”
“I thought it would be easier for the child.”
“For the child?”
“And for me.”
Luke nodded slowly. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The part you should say out loud more often.”
“I issued a statement.”
“I saw it. It was legally excellent and emotionally bloodless.”
“Julia wrote it.”
“Of course she did.”
Harrison scrolled to the page listing the donor’s childhood interests. Piano. Sailing. Sketching buildings.
“Brittany met him.”
“I know.”
“She did not tell me.”
“Are you angry because she hid it, or because the real man does not look like a catalog page?”
Harrison closed the file. “You have become unbearable since the divorce.”
“I was unbearable before. Claire simply documented it.”
Clara stirred on the sofa and pulled the coat over her face.
Luke lowered his voice. “Call Brittany once. Leave one message. Then stop.”
“She needs to include me in the medical decision.”
“She will when she trusts you not to turn it into a family transaction.”
“I am the legal intended father.”
“Then act like the human one.”
Brittany spent the morning in a cardiology office with Nora on one side and a lawyer named Simone Park on the other.
Simone had short black hair, a dark red scarf, and a habit of writing down exact phrases people used when they were frightened. She had begun as Nora’s college roommate’s cousin and become, within twelve hours, the only person in the room who could explain why Harrison’s public statement helped but did not solve the problem.
“The fertility clinic is arranging genetic counseling,” Simone said. “They are also preserving records. Do not sign their proposed release until we review it.”
Brittany shifted on the examination table. The paper beneath her made a dry crackling sound.
“Can they refuse to tell me what happened?”
“They can delay. They can investigate. They can claim the update was processed incorrectly or that notification procedures were followed. We will need the original donor notice and their communication logs.”
“I do not want to sue anyone.”
“You do not have to decide that today.”
“I want to know whether my baby is sick.”
“The medical team is working on that. The legal work keeps evidence from disappearing while they do.”
Nora looked up from a pamphlet about inherited cardiomyopathy. “Evidence disappears?”
“Sometimes intentionally. More often because systems are bad and people are careless.”
The cardiologist entered with a genetic counselor. They spoke in probabilities, family patterns, screening limitations, and options. Gabriel had agreed to expedited testing. A result might take several days. The ultrasound marker Brittany had been told about was not diagnostic and, in isolation, often meant nothing.
The phrase often meant nothing gave her relief for less than a minute.
Then she heard the unspoken remainder: sometimes it did.
The genetic counselor asked whether the intended father would participate in future appointments.
Brittany looked at Simone.
“That is not a legal question,” Simone said. “It is hers.”
Brittany folded her hands beneath her stomach. “I don’t know.”
After the appointment, Harrison was waiting in the lobby.
He wore yesterday’s gray suit without the tie. His hair was less controlled than usual, as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. He stood when Brittany emerged.
Nora stopped beside her. “How did he know?”
Simone answered without lowering her voice. “A member of the Vale family contacted the hospital to arrange a consultation. The scheduling trail was not difficult to infer.”
Harrison looked at Brittany. “My father told me the hospital, not the appointment time.”
“So you waited all morning?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Nora glanced at the coffee table. Four empty paper cups stood beside Harrison’s chair.
“You should not drink that much coffee,” she said.
He looked at her. “Thank you.”
“It was not concern. You look irritating when you vibrate.”
Brittany closed her eyes briefly.
Harrison stepped closer but stopped before entering her space. “Is the baby all right?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“What did they say?”
“That Gabriel is being tested. Depending on his result, we decide what comes next.”
“I want to speak to the doctor.”
“You can schedule your own consultation.”
“I should have been in the room.”
“You were in a board meeting.”
“I came as soon as I found out.”
“You found out because your father told you.”
“I have been calling.”
“Yes.”
Harrison looked at Simone. “Can we speak privately?”
“She is my attorney.”
“I am aware.”
May you like
“Then you know why she is here.”
The lobby receptionist pretended to organize pens.
