“So...what are you planning to do?” Christine asked, following her to the door.
“Have the baby!” She thought she’d made the completely clear.
“I mean about Winston.”
“I’m going to call the chaplain and take it from there. I’m guessing there’s counseling for things like this. It’s not like he’s the first man to come home from captivity. They’ll have things to help us adjust and find our way back to normal lie.”
“So you plan to let him stay?” They stood at the closed door.
“Let him stay? It’s his home as much as it is mine. He belongs there...he’s not only my husband, he’s my soul mate. The love of my life. We’ll get through this.”
After a long glance, Christine nodded. Pulled open the door. “You’ve got a lot on your shoulders all of a sudden,” she said. “If you ever need to talk, just to vent, you call me. I’m not a certified counselor, but I’m always available to chat.”
The offer was professionally made, and yet, as Emily drove from the clinic to LA later that morning, she felt pretty certain that Christine’s offer wasn’t one she made lightly.
And with that, Emily felt better.
* * *
As soon as his session with the anti-terrorist group was done that morning, Winston stopped by the naval legal assistance office.
He absolutely could not be a father. And he couldn’t prevent Emily from being a mother—not that he had any intention or desire to do so. But he had to know his legal rights and obligations.
“According to what you’ve told me, you signed a contract giving her the right to use your sperm for purposes of artificial insemination,” Tom Burnett, the base lawyer he’d sought out, told him.
“To specify that she was the only one who could use it,” he confirmed.
“Right, but that still gives her the right to use it.”
Not what he wanted to hear. Sitting there, in his khakis, talking to a man in dress whites, was not easing his tension any. He needed to be in charge of something, dammit.
Anything.
“Have you asked her to terminate?”
“Hell no!” He didn’t even want that. He just...
“Do you have a divorce attorney yet?”
He’d started this conversation by saying that while he and Emily were still legally bound, the marriage was over.
“No,” he said. “She doesn’t know yet that that’s my plan.”
The other man nodded. Watched him. He was getting tired of that. Everyone watching him, as though assessing his ability to run his own life.
He’d stayed alive and healthy in enemy territory, living a lie until he could find his way out, a chance to escape. He’d mentally collated two years’ worth of intel that he was in the process of regurgitating, and they doubted his ability to conduct his life?
“I suggest, then, that you talk to her,” Burnett said. “Really talk to her. And then get an attorney. You have a lot to consider here and there are different ways you could go...”
There. That. “What are those ways?”
“You could try to argue that since your wife used your sperm when you were presumed dead, that she can’t now hold you accountable for child support or other paternal responsibilities. In my opinion, you’d have a good case there.”
Okay. Good to know. But... “I’ll pay child support. I have no problem with that. But the rest of it... The paternal responsibilities...” He had to find a way out of those—couldn’t commit to giving his child something he no longer had to offer.
“You could ask the court, as part of the divorce, for shared parenting, for visitation rights or to have your rights severed. I’ve never actually heard of a parent going to court to have their own rights severed, but your wife could make the request that your rights be severed. If you agree not to fight it, the court would most likely grant her request.”
The man listed other options, most of which Winston threw out. They didn’t apply to him and Emily. They weren’t enemies. Weren’t fighting.