Meeting Maura, Chapter 1
by Simahoyo
A young couple goes through too many miscarriages and now is waiting to get on a list to adopt.
An unusual opportunity presents itself.
January 20th, 1976–Boston Medical Center.
Constance Isles sat up in her hospital bed hating things. She hated her doctor, for telling her that her pregnancy needed to be ended with surgery. She wanted this baby. She and Benny had hoped this one would really come to term safely. She hated that an etopic pregnancy had ended that dream.
She hated her mother's doctor for giving her DES for Morning Sickness. Constance imagined him as an Anglophone who didn't listen to her mother's halting English. She hated the pharmaceutical company that made DES. And most of all she hated herself.
She went through half a box of tissues before the door opened and Benny was holding her in his arms. Now she felt both better and worse. What kind of wife was she when she couldn't even manage to have a baby?
"My God, Connie. I'm so sorry. Don't yell, but, I think it's time to stop."
She pushed him away. "Stop? I'm no good at this Mother thing. I'm a failure. It's like I married Prince Charming, and now, someone killed that happily ever after." She pounded his chest, then stopped to cry some more.
"Hey...hey, we can adopt. Why should you go through hell any longer?"
Constance stopped, suddenly quiet. "Damn it, Benny, I'm not even a citizen. Don't I have to be a US citizen to adopt?" She looked at him–or rather someplace inside him. He sometimes believed she had that ability. "And don't your parents want an heir to the Isles name?"
"It's just a name. We could adopt a kid from Mars, and give them the Isles name. My folks love you. They won't care. I'll check with the lawyers about the citizen thing. It'll be fine."
"Mars? Couldn't we try a bit closer to home?"
"Ok. This planet only. And if you are going to be a Mom, maybe you should cut back on the swearing a little."
She gave him a mock slug, and laughed. He could always do to that to her. "I'll keep it to French."
So, they looked into adoption, and discovered that lists were long. Requirements were high, and it would take time. So, Constance held her head up, and went back to teaching at Harvard.
That semester she had an interesting student, who had some talent for drawing, but also seemed a bit more mature than most of the other students. His name was Patrick, and he must not have had a class right after hers, because he liked to stay and talk. After a while, she noticed he seemed to see through her carefully constructed persona of the upper class, educated woman. She was educated, but her horrific accent had needed years of work to rid herself of tell tale details.
Apparently Patrick had a ear for things like that. So, she shared her lower class background with him. Constance was shocked to discover that Patrick was the son of a local mafia leader, a man known to be vicious. Growing up in her neighborhood, she had learned how to keep her mouth shut. His secret was safe with her, and soon they were quite friendly.
Patrick had seemed to be growing more and more nervous over time. His drawings were good, but dark. Constance waited. She was cleaning up spilled ink from a clumsy student, when Patrick stopped, looking at her in that way that signaled he wanted to talk. She scrubbed up the last of the ink, and tossed the cleaning rag away, turning to face him.
The look on his face was troubling. He kept looking at the door, nervously.
"Professor , I have a problem. I hope you can help."
Constance sat down and motioned for Patrick to sit near her. He sat as if the chair was hot.
"I didn't tell anyone else about this...but I trust you. My girlfriend is pregnant."
Constance beat down her jealousy. She knew nothing about this young woman. It was time to shut and listen. She folded her hands in her lap.
"She wants to keep it. But she's a pre-med student and she's only eighteen. I thought about marrying her, but my old man told me I will not marry her, I will not let her have this kid, and if I do, He'll kill them."
His voice told her this was no exaggeration. Fear for this young woman and her child burned in Constance's chest.
"No.!" She felt her hands over her mouth. Patrick looked at her with a mixture of hope and fear.
"My old man will do it, if I can't figure something out. I've got to protect them. I have an idea. But it's cruel as hell. If I can convince my girlfriend our baby died at birth, I just need someone I can trust to take the baby."
Silence. It dragged on until Constance wanted to scream.. It was a contest and she was a strong woman. She waited. Time ticked by.
"Would you take my baby?", asked Patrick.
Want filled her soul. But his plan was so cruel.
She would be hurting that young mother the same way she had been hurt so many times. What kind of person would do this? What kind of person would let this mother and child die?
She needed Benny. She couldn't decide this all alone.
"Yes.", she heard herself say. (What? Did you just say yes? Without a word to Benny? Are you insane?) Constance felt the blood drain from her face.