Not to say that Christine hadn’t had a slew of friends. Emily had no idea who Christine had known.
“I was sorry to hear about Winston.” The compassion in Christine’s brown eyes came close to undoing her. And focused her, too. Finally.
“That’s why I’m here,” she said, sitting upright on the couch, nothing at her back. Because that’s how it was going to be. “Labwerks contacted me... I actually forgot to pay my yearly storage fee...”
Christine could have jumped in as Emily faltered. Instead, she sat silently, that warm look still in her gaze.
“They asked if I wanted them to discard Winston’s sperm...”
The vial had been taken as part of an initial testing process when he and Emily first visited Elliott Fertility Clinic. They’d been trying to have a child for over a year with no success. Low motility had been ruled out. As had any other obvious reasons for an inability to procreate. They’d been given the option to keep trying naturally, with some hormonal help, or consider artificial insemination. Because they’d both just turned thirty and figured they had time, they’d opted to go the natural route for a while longer, but had paid to have Winston’s sperm stored just in case.
“So what can I do for you?” Christine’s question came quietly. More of a boost than a push. Like she was helping Emily do what she’d come to do, not forcing her to get on with it.
“I’ve become obsessed by an idea I had and I want your opinion before I allow myself to seriously consider it.”
“Why me? I’m not a counselor—Though, as you know, we have a couple of top-rate ones on staff, and I’d be happy to refer you...”
Emily shook her head. Maybe a counselor was what she needed but it wasn’t what she wanted. Not at that point, anyway.
“I want your opinion.”
>
“My degree is in health management. I founded the clinic, I run it, but the work that we do...that’s the fabulous doctors and their teams, not me.”
“When we met with you before...it was clear to me...you aren’t in this as a business. You’re here because you care about people.”
With a silent nod, Christine acknowledged the truth of the remark.
“And...you understand that sometimes, for some people, the need to have a family, by whatever means, overrides most everything else...”
“Whatever legal means...” Christine said slowly, her look more assessing. “What are you considering?”
“Nothing illegal.” Emily tried to smile and chuckle. She choked instead. And when Christine brought her a bottle of water, she took down half of it. “I’m sorry.”
Taking the seat next to her on the couch, Christine turned to her. “I’m happy to listen.”
Chapter Two
Emily rambled for what seemed like an hour. She just talked. Unburdening herself of myriad thoughts. Relaying arguments that played out in her head. Releasing a little bit of the panic that had become an almost-constant companion over the past month. She wasn’t looking for healing. For therapy. Truth was, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Permission maybe.
She wanted some kind of professional response from the health care manager, as though such a response would validate the seemingly unstoppable urge to have herself inseminated.
The clock on the wall said only about ten minutes had passed when she finally fell silent.
“You have the legal right to use your husband’s sperm.” Christine’s response sounded professional. And maybe more, too.
She didn’t need the other woman’s pity. She had so much of that coming at her she was almost buried in it.
“Everyone I know is feeling sorry for me,” she blurted. “I’m attempting to prevent myself from sinking into the pool they’re creating and letting it drown the life out of me. And yet is it fair to bring a child into the world because I’m drowning in grief?”
“Is that why you’d be doing it? Because of the grief?”
It was obvious, wasn’t it? That’s what everyone would think. Would assume. Including her.
“When I met with you before it seemed to me that you and Winston were equally determined to have a child. That it was something you both needed in equally intense measure.”
“It was!” Why would the woman be going back there at this point in time? That dream, that life, was over.