Page 60 of Geordie

The doorbell rings and another round of heart-thumping anticipation begins. On the other side of the door is a smiling Connie. We embrace as old friends and I invite her in. “Can I take your coat?”

She saysyesbefore turning her back to me, allowing me to ease her blue trench from her shoulders. She tugs at a pullover sweater of autumn gold down past her blue-jean hips and I wonder again how such a slender form could have carried three children. I store the coat in a hall closet. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I'm fine. Let's just talk.” We walk into the living room, me mentioning how the weather has turned cold. She seats herself in the chair just as she finishes her response to my comment. I force myself to go through the minutiae of politeness all the while, not wanting to ask outright about her decision.

“I wanted to telephone you myself to arrange this meeting, but we decided to continue to work through the attorney,” she says.

“I'm sorry, Connie, to be so bold, but I can't stand the suspense. Have you decided?”

“I have. I want to apologize for the long wait, but this was difficult.”

I sit there nodding, waiting for her to get to the point. When her answer is no, it bounces around my brain like a rubber ball, sending wee pinpoints of regret when they land. There are a few seconds before I find my voice. “Thank you for coming here to let me know,” my voice thick with disappointment.

“Geordie, you're a lovely man. You'll find the perfect match. I belong to a surrogate network; I'll let them know you're looking for someone. I'll even give my endorsement.”

“That would be great.”

“I'll leave you now. Oh, and one last thing, if your surrogate needs support, call me. I'd be happy to help.”

We take a somber walk to the door, my thoughts already racing ahead to the next step, stopping while I help her with her coat. This stumble is hard to take. With the next potential surrogate, I'll have to remember to stay distant until she agrees. Connie stands in the hall adjusting her coat, her hands closing buttons.

“Can you tell me why you didn't choose me?”

Connie meets my gaze with a sad smile while she pushes her hands into her pockets. “I had every intention of carrying a child for you. My husband and I even discussed me donating an egg. He believes in helping others to start or extend their families. He's an anonymous sperm donor himself; he's such a strong advocate.”

Hope flares bright in the pit of my stomach. “Are you willing to donate an egg? I think we would create an extraordinary child together.”

Her eyes dance at the thought. I hope she sees the same baby with red hair and bright blue eyes. It's the child I see before I drift off to my dreams.

“I would donate an egg if I was carrying the child for you.” Then the dream light in her eyes dims until it's replaced by reality. “The couple I chose has been trying for a long time. The woman is in her forties now and the time is closing for her to have children. She froze eggs when she was younger and I'm going to carry her fertilized egg. They're wonderful people and I know they'll be great parents; I feel a strong need to help them.”

There's no time to anguish over this loss. I pace the kitchen, asking my AI assistant to call my attorney. Art won't pick up, not after hours. It doesn't matter; the message that he should continue the search for a surrogate is left after a long tone. I engage the assistant again to call William, and even his brother Tim. Both are unavailable to lend support or suggestions. Instead, I conjure up their advice, cycling through my head like a mantra, accessing their wisdom when I'm in doubt. It will be frustrating, a long, endless road at times. Whatever you have to do, it's worth it to hold your precious daughter in your arms.

My gaze falls on my drinks cabinet. I take out my family's premium whiskey, a glass, and head for the living room. The plush leather of the armchair receives my weight in a soft embrace. I splash the golden-brown liquid into the glass and drink, the reassuring warmth mellowing out my distress. This ancient family brew is like a benediction from my ancestors and the closest thing I'll get to a family meeting.

A knock pulls me away from my rambling thoughts. It's a knock instead of a ring, something Lily would do before coming into the apartment. I bounce to my feet, needing company right now. When I swing the door open, it's Kenzie brandishing a bottle of champagne with my not-too-pleased cousin beside her. “May we come in?” Kenzie sings in a party mood, Lochlan brooding beside her. I swipe my hand out for them to step inside. “When Lochlan told me you were meeting with your surrogate to discuss carrying your child, we had to come to celebrate with you,” she says, dancing across the threshold, with Lochlan trailing behind her. “Is Connie still here?” she calls over her shoulder. They're standing in the living room when I catch up with them.

“No, she's left more than an hour ago,” I respond.

“I see you've already started a celebratory drink,” Kenzie says.

“By the looks of it,” Lochlan says, picking up the whiskey bottle, “You've been celebrating with great ferocity for some time.”

“If you don't mind, I'd like to continue with my whiskey. Can I get you both a glass?”

They both give me a bewildered nod before I disappear into the kitchen to find the glasses. When I return, they're sitting on the couch, Kenzie leaning into Lochlan, murmuring until she spies me. I fill two fingers’ worth of whiskey in each glass, handing them to my guests.

“To the newest member of the MacTavish clan,” Lochlan says, raising his glass to me and Kenzie hesitantly raising her tumbler. I fall back into the chair, my hand rubbing my chin. “What is it man, is it unlucky to toast a child before it's conceived?” Lochlan asks, lowering his glass.

“I have no idea what the protocol is for this particular occasion.” I swipe my glass from the table, peering at its bottom. “What's the toast when the surrogate says she won't carry your child?”

“I thought you said the decision was made, that you'd be discussing details tonight?”

“The surrogate was Connie Robertson. We dated for a few months when we came to this country.”

“Aye, she was a braw lass. Screwball over you, if I remember.”

“My attorney said he found a surrogate that asked to talk to me. She was interested in me and two couples. He didn't know who she was, but I did when I saw her picture in the profile he presented to me. It's difficult for a single man to adopt or find a surrogate who will help. Many people are still stuck on the belief that only a couple can raise a healthy, happy child.”

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