Judith Wall - The Surrogate

He wanted his mother to put her arms around him even if he had to beg her.

After leaving the midwife’s house, Jamie drove to the local Wal-Mart and, with Billy in the carrier and the carrier in a shopping cart, hurried her way through the store, trying to remember all the items on her mental shopping list. She selected assorted articles of baby clothing and a couple of packages of receiving blankets and wash cloths. Then she spotted a cloth sling designed to carry a baby across an adult’s tummy and tossed it into the cart. She found a knitted cap for herself, selected a couple of nursing bras, then headed to pharmaceuticals for the bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls she needed to clean the baby’s cord stump. Next she located the hair dye and selected a shade called “burnished chestnut.” Last she selected a pair of scissors suitable for cutting hair. Her long blond hair and height were the two most noticeable things about her appearance. She couldn’t do anything about her height, but as soon as she had a chance, she would do something about her hair. In the meantime, the cap would have to do.

Once she had loaded the baby and her purchases into the car, she stuffed her hair inside the cap then drove into downtown Guymon and turned into the ATM lane at the Bank of the Panhandle. She inserted the ATM card that she had never used and was relieved when the machine accepted her PIN number. Her money was still in an account at the Austin bank. Almost $2,000 remained of the original $10,000 advance and, with no job and a baby to care for, she was going to need every penny of it.

The ATM machine allowed her to withdraw only $250. She then drove to City Bank, where she was allowed $500.

Next she drove around looking for the library.

Only a few cars were parked in the library lot. Jamie unfastened the infant carrier from its base, carried her sleeping baby inside, and headed straight for the computers.

First she looked for classic-car dealers. As much as she hated to part with it, she feared that Gus Hartmann already had people searching for her car. She surfed around a bit and found one site full of friendly advice for selling worthy older cars and a warning against randomly driving onto just any secondhand car lot. That said, the site recommended a number of reputable classic-car dealers.

The baby was waving his arms. Jamie calmed him by rocking the carrier with her foot.

Next she searched for Joseph Brammer’s telephone number and found a listing in the Austin white pages. With a pounding heart, she used a pay phone in the foyer to place a call but got a recording informing her that the number was no longer in service.

Back at the computer she tried the business listings in Austin. Then she Googled his name but found too many matches to deal with. Next she tried to locate a listing for attorney Joseph Brammer in numerous Texas cities then finally gave up. There was no telling where he had opened his law practice, she realized.

She knew that his grandparents had moved to a retirement community in Georgia, but she couldn’t remember the name of the town. Hopefully, though, she could find a listing for his parents in Houston. She had met his parents on several occasions but either had never known or had forgotten his father’s first name.

There were dozens of Brammers in Houston, but one listing jumped out at her. “Arthur S. Brammer.” Joe’s middle name was Arthur, and she was certain that Joe’s grandmother had referred to her son-in-law as Art.

Rocking the carrier was no longer working for Billy, and she carried him out to the car. He nursed vigorously for a time then obligingly fell back asleep.

Jamie tucked him back into the carrier and headed back to the pay phone. A woman’s voice answered.

“Mrs. Brammer?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Jamie Long. I hope I have the right number. Do you have a son named Joe?”

“Yes, I do, Jamie. You used to live across the back fence from my parents in Mesquite. I remember you well and was so sorry to hear about your grandmother. We all thought a lot of Gladys. You know, dear, Joe tried to track you down last summer. I remember him saying that you seemed to have dropped off the planet.”

Jamie’s heart soared. Joe had been looking for her.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with Joe, too. His Austin number is no longer in service.”

“Joe took his last semester of law school abroad-at Oxford,” Mrs. Brammer said. “Then he and some of the young men he’d met at Oxford decided to bike around the Continent. When winter came, Art and I thought for sure he’d head on home, but he and his companions headed south-for Greece.”

Mrs. Brammer paused a second or two before continuing. Jamie had a sense that she was not going to like what followed. “Joe signed on as a crew member on a tramp steamer, Jamie. His last phone call was from some island off the coast of Turkey.”

Jamie found herself having terribly conflicting reactions. God only knew when she would be able to talk to Joe. But trekking around Europe didn’t sound like something a married man would be doing.

“So, Joe is not married?” she dared ask, trying to keep her voice a careful neutral.

“No, dear, he’s not married. I always thought he was waiting around for you to grow up, but he got sidetracked with Marcia, who is a lovely girl, and they really seemed to care about each other, but I think she got tired of waiting around for him to get on with things.”

Joe was not married. Not married.

Jamie realized that she had been holding her breath. She let it out before asking, “So, when do you think he’s coming home?”

“Believe me, we ask him every time he calls. And his father lectures him about how it’s time for him to settle down and how risky it is nowadays for Americans traveling abroad. Joe’s all but promised that he’ll be home in time for his father’s birthday in June, but I’m hoping it will be sooner. We do miss him so.”

“Is there any way I could get in touch with him?” Jamie asked.

“Not that I know of. He was e-mailing his grandparents every few weeks from places called cyber cafés, but they haven’t heard from him since he’s been on the ship. Is there anything Art and I can help you with, dear? You sound so forlorn.”

“No, really I’m fine. The next time Joe calls, tell him that you talked to me,” Jamie said, disappointment displacing joy.

“Where are you, Jamie? And where in the world have you been? Before he left for Europe he checked with UT, but you weren’t enrolled for the spring semester. And while he was in England, he searched for you on the computer-which I don’t understand at all. Finally he decided that you must have signed up for the Peace Corps or something exotic like that.”

Jamie took a deep breath. Joe had been looking for her. Really looking for her. “It’s too complicated to explain on the phone,” she said.

“But you have to be living someplace. Where are you calling from?”

A man and woman were coming through the front door. They looked down at the baby in the carrier parked at Jamie’s feet and smiled. “A pay phone in another state,” Jamie said, lowering her voice. “I’ll try to call you back in a day or two and tell you where I can be reached.”

“You can’t even tell me the name of the state! Are you in hiding or something? You sound so tired, dear. Are you all right?”

The sympathy and concern in the voice of Joe’s mother was too much for Jamie to bear. She choked up, unable to speak for several seconds, unable to hold back sobs.

“Oh, my goodness. You poor child. How can I help you? Please tell me where you are. Art and I will come to get you. Or wire you money. Send you a plane ticket. Just tell me what you need.”