With My Whole Heart

  With My Whole Heart

  MariaLisa deMora

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Copyright © 2017 MariaLisa deMora

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First Published 2017

  ISBN 13: 978-0-9983267-5-7

  DEDICATION

  To those readers who make a point to be always present in my life: Thank you. A special

  thanks to Lu Bielefeld, for inspiring this story

  with a well-placed word.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Happiness isn’t always about getting what you want. Sometimes it’s about putting other people’s happiness first. That’s how you build a sustainable bank of happiness, because increasing the quotient you have is directly related to what you hand out to the ones you love.

  Here’s to those brilliantly generous people who help make so many dreams surrounding family come true. The selfless donors, carriers, and surrogates. The couples and single parents who want a life for their children beyond what they can provide. The doctors and nurses who care and nurture, who encourage and weep along with their patients with every setback and success. You are all amazing, and your roles are so very important.

  Quick shout out to Brett. He took the time out of a busy schedule to set me straight on what a high school basketball coach would, and would not, do. Any errors are my own and persisted despite his guidance. Thanks, my man, very helpful!

  Thanks, as always, to the beautiful Becky Johnson and her folks at Hot Tree Editing. They take my words and shine them like a diamond. Thanks also to my alpha team: MirandaPanda, Jamey, Jesse, Kori, Kelsi, and Megan. Candor is a good thing! Thanks for putting up with me. Thanks also to Debera Kuntz, for creating the cover of this book from words on thin air. Your work is fabulous, as are you my dear!

  Sometimes all it takes is a well-placed word to spur the creative process. The idea for this story was planted by a Brazilian fan and blogger who posted a review for a story she didn’t enjoy. I immediately followed the well-worn ‘what if’ path, and within about fifteen minutes had sketched an outline for the story.

  I was in the middle of working on another book and couldn’t begin writing this one right away. Fortunately, good things come to those who wait, right? Once I’d settled my schedule so I could pay attention to the characters, I found this story that wouldn’t leave me alone required in-depth research as I knew nothing about the world of surrogates. I hope I got it right, but any mistakes are mine alone, and not the fault of the individuals and professionals I spoke to on the topic.

  After several weeks of research, I pulled my laptop close and began writing a story that flowed so very well, it felt like silk in my head. It is absolutely amazing when that happens, and what you hold is the result. I truly hope you enjoy Jaime and Connor’s story.

  Woofully yours,

  ~ML

  Chapter One

  Jaime

  Jaime rested her chin on the backs of her curled knuckles, staring down at the newspaper-covered table in front of her. She shifted and reached out, picking up a pencil and putting an X on the last viable help-wanted ad. Twenty-eight circles of lip-chewing hope turned into twenty-eight crossed-off dead ends. She cut her gaze to one side, eyeing her phone. No need to use any of the limited data left on her pay-by-the-month plan, she knew the balance in her checking account to the penny. Not nearly enough of those to go around, she thought, turning back to the paper and scanning the rest of the ads, hoping she’d missed the one that would lead to a job.

  “Mom!” The shout came before her son even had the door open, his hands and body hitting it at a run, as was usual for Nathan. “I’m home.” There was nothing quiet about Nate. The door slammed closed behind him, and his quick footsteps echoed through their tiny apartment. He was always excited to see her, excited to get home; Nate was just excited about everything. Please God, let him keep that same attitude through life.

  “In here,” she called and twisted in the chair, opening her arms. Two heartbeats later, Nate barreled through the hallway and ran to her. At nine, even with his abilities, or maybe because of them, he hadn’t yet learned that hugging his mom wasn’t cool, and she wrapped her arms around him as he snuggled into her shoulder. “Missed you, handsome. You have a good day at school?”

  Muffled against her shirt, he said, “Yeah. Missed you too, Mom.”

  A year ago it was still Mommy, she thought, giving him a tight squeeze before she let him go. So much change in a year. For the better, she promised herself.

  “Any luck?” He’d pulled back a couple of inches and was eyeballing the table.

  Jaime blew a quick raspberry against his neck, and once he was giggling, she admitted the truth. “Nope. Not today. There’s always tomorrow, though.”

  With eyes older than his years, he stilled, staring at her for a moment, and she saw when he consciously decided to ask the question he more often avoided. Another clue that my baby’s growing up. “Do we have enough for the apartment?” He paused, then pushed a little further into territory that was uncomfortable for them both. “What if you can’t find a job, Mom?”

  “I will have enough,” she promised, and it wasn’t a lie. Tomorrow she’d go to the plasma donation center. It would be her sixth visit, which all their paperwork said would give her a bonus big enough to pay rent with. She could use the ATM in the center’s building to check the balance of her card when she was done, make sure they kept their promises. “And I’m gonna find a job. It’s just taking longer than I thought it would.”

  “Because of me.” Nate’s nose wrinkled and his chin quivered. “Because I can’t stay after school anymore.”

  Crap. Time to lie.

  “The afterschool program wasn’t working out anyway, honey. I didn’t like the guy in charge any more than you did. I didn’t like him at all.” Nate had gotten into a fight last week when one of the older boys was picking on a girl. “And you did the right thing, making sure you took care of Jacqueline.” The girl was a little older than Nate and had Downs Syndrome. The boy had been goading and insulting her, trying to make her cry. “The way you stepped in when you did, it kept her from getting her feelings hurt. I told you then, and I’ll tell you now, I’m proud of you, Nathan Grimes. Doesn’t matter what Mr. Watts said.” Watts was the program organizer and a sleazeball of the highest order. Jaime’d had to dodge a come-on from him a dozen times in the month and a half that Nate had been going to the afternoon program. “Jacqueline’s mom said you were brave and didn’t back down.” Nate hadn’t been the first to throw a punch; that had been the twelve-year-old boy. Program rules were clear, though, and both parties had been suspended for a week. Then Jaime’s temporary assignment had ended, and she didn’t nee
d the child care. “Plus, your time in the pokey is up, so if I needed you to go, the door would be open again. All you’d have to do is apologize to the boy.”

  Nate shook his head. “Like I said when Mr. Watts told me to the first time, he should have to apologize to Jacqueline. Not until that happens, Mom. It’s not fair.”

  “I don’t disagree, Nate. But that’s not the rule.” He pulled away in frustration, slinging his backpack to the floor beside the couch with more effort than was necessary. “I don’t want to argue, and we don’t have to, because you won’t be going back for a while. Not until I find a job.” He wrinkled his nose at her again. “Stop it, worrywart. It’ll all work out. Now, pull your homework out while I get you a snack. Tell me what you have to do.”

  Rolling his eyes, Nate turned to his backpack, pulling out a fistful of papers. “I have to make a model of a cell.”

  In front of the refrigerator, Jaime paused and looked back, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “A jail cell? What kind of class is that?”

  Laughing, Nate turned to her, and she caught her breath at the sight of him. Nate might have her hair and eyes, bright blond and a brilliant, clear blue, but the deep dimples embedded in each cheek were his father, all over again. God, I miss you, Brice.

  “No, Mom. You’re goofy. It’s for science.” Shaking his head, Nate picked through the papers and plucked one out. “The structure of a cell nucleus. You know, sciency stuff. The nuclear envelope, nucleoplasm, chromatin, endoplasmic reticulum, stuff like that.” He looked at the table. “Can I use part of the newspaper, Mom? Oh, and, do we have flour? If we have some, I can use that and a little salt to make the model.” Glancing at her, he frowned. “Fridge door is open, Mom.”

  Closing the door with a bump of her hip, she stared at him in amazement. Not for the first time, either, because Nate was gifted. “Where did you get those brains, boy? We need to return them, ASAP. You sure didn’t get them from me.”

  He grinned again and then ruined the effect by rolling his eyes. “These are my brains, Mom. You’ve lived with me long enough. Should know my brains from some stranger’s brains by now.” Tipping his head to the side, seeing far too much in her expression, he quietly asked, “Are you okay?”

  Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just scared out of my mind. Because you’re so smart, so very smart, and I’m afraid I can’t do right by you. I’m scared because I’m alone and I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, so I question myself about a thousand times a day. I’m sad because your daddy died, and his parents hate me, and so they hate you, too. And I hate them for taking that away from you. For making it so you don’t have anyone to take to school on Grandparents’ Day. For making it so you only have me at your back. Because, what if I mess up? I’m so scared that I’m going to mess up, mess you up, and you’re so smart and good.

  She didn’t say any of that. Jaime would keep the smile plastered on her face until she died before Nate learned what was inside her head. Instead, she told him, “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how I’d know if you had some stolen brains in your head.” Holding out the snack cup, she said, “Applesauce first. I’ll round up the ingredients for whatever crazy concoction you’re intending to make.” She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and held that out, too. “What did you need again?”

  “Salt, not a lot, and flour, about three cups.” He took them from her hands and turned to the table. “Plaster of paris, Mom. Easy stuff.”

  “So you say.” Turning to the cabinets, she was in the process of dragging everything out when there was a loud knock on the front door. “You stay.” She looked at Nate then pointed to the bag of flour, setting a plastic measuring cup next to it. “The stuff is all here, but wait for me.”

  Looking through the peephole, she froze for a minute, running the date through her head to make sure she hadn’t missed the deadline by mistake. No, the rent wasn’t due for two days, so why was the apartment manager at her door? She put the chain on, then unlocked the deadbolt, opening the door the three inches allowed by the chain. “Mr. Solon, what can I do for you?”

  He was so close to the door all she could see was one eye, but from her view of that limited part of his face, she could still see he was glaring at her. He’d clearly heard the chain going on, and decided to be annoyed she’d take that precaution against him. “Got someone interested in the apartment. Need to know if you’re going to stay.”

  “Yes.” She wanted to follow that with something else, something profane, but held her tongue. In the months she and Nate had lived here, she’d been late with her rent twice, but managed to pay the money within the Tennessee-mandated fourteen days, which meant Solon hadn’t been able to evict her. It didn’t stop him from threatening her with it, though. And surely didn’t stop him from harassing her, like this.

  “I plan to be in and out of the apartment, showing it.” He lifted his lip in what resembled a smile. A near copy, but not a good one. “You know, just in case.”

  “Mr. Solon, if I’m not here, the lease doesn’t allow for your presence in my apartment without agreement.” She paused, liking the flinch he showed her, but knowing she’d pay for it sooner or later. “I don’t agree.” Take that.

  “You’re pushin’ it, Grimes.” The corners of his mouth turned down, and he pulled back several inches, both eyes boring into her. “Get your rent to me on time this month.”

  “Was that all, Solon?” She could match his unpleasantness, and would. He nodded, and she closed the door, flipping the deadbolt, not caring if he heard it.

  Turning around, she gasped and clutched at her shirt, startled because Nate stood directly behind her. “What in the world?”

  “He stopped me in the lobby.” Nate’s eyes burned blue, anger shining through. “Told me he hoped you were home. Hoped he wouldn’t have to call CPS on you leaving me alone. I told him you were here, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, honey. He’s a little man with a tiny bit of power, makes him think he’s a big deal.” She shook her head. “Applesauce?”

  “All gone. I need a big bowl for the plaster.” Nate’s eyes slid from her to the door. Then he stepped around her and turned the thumb lock on the knob with a decisive motion. His protectiveness reminded her of his father, and she loved seeing that part of Brice come out in their son. “I’m ready to get started, Mom. If I turn it in this week, I get extra credit.” He grinned at her.

  “Since when does fourth grade science give extra credit?” Jaime rocked back and forth on her feet, smiling down at Nate.

  “Since I’m taking ninth grade science.” Shaking his head, Nate laughed, which had been her goal. Back in the kitchen, she took her largest mixing bowl down from the cabinet and placed it on the counter.

  The principal of his school had called her in at the beginning of the year to talk about the standardized placement test results. Since Nate had been in a different school each year, sometimes twice in a year, no one but she had really understood just how smart he was. Until now.

  “Miss Grimes, Nathan is reading at a high school senior level, and on his own has demonstrated his capability to solve pre-algebra and pre-calculus math problems. I can’t place him in the classes he needs. Not officially, not without the district doing their own testing, but I can tell you that he will be bored with fourth grade classwork.” Mr. Paterson, the principal, had looked so stern and serious it had taken Jaime a minute to realize Nate wasn’t in trouble. Once she caught up, she realized this was a discussion about how well he was doing and nothing negative.

  “I’d like to challenge him, and keep him focused on academics that will stretch his mind and intellect. At minimum, Nathan should audit the science and math classes for eighth and ninth grades. I can promise you that I’ll expedite the district testing and will personally oversee his instruction until we have a ruling.” When Jaime didn’t respond, Paterson finally cracked the somber expression he’d been wearing, evidently reading she was still nervous about the entire conversation. “T
his is a good thing, Miss Grimes. An exciting thing. We don’t want him to slip through the cracks. Nathan is extremely intelligent.” He leaned forwards, emphasizing the word as he repeated it, “Extremely.”

  “Well then.” Jaime shook herself, walking back towards the chair where she’d been seated. “You better get to work, since it’s ninth grade science and all.” She picked up the rest of the newspaper and settled back in to read.

  ***

  Reclining in the huge chairs reserved for the donors, Jaime stared at the ceiling as she counted to sixty, then squeezed the ball. Last one, she thought, and relaxed her hand, letting the ball rest in her palm.

  “Okay,” she heard, and turned to face Trisha, her favorite tech. “Lemme get this spun out, and we’ll load you back up.” Trisha disconnected the bag and held it up in front of the scanner on the wall. It flashed amber, then green, and Trisha turned to smile at Jaime. “Don’t forget to check your balance. It said you reached the bonus.”

  “That’s good.” Jaime released a relieved sigh, smiling back at Trisha who was now frowning.

  “You need the money that bad, honey?” Jaime was the only client in the center right now, and the rest of the techs were in the break room where there was juice and fresh fruit, which meant she and Trisha had some privacy. “You okay?”

  “Jobs are few and far between these days.” Jaime shrugged and sighed again. “What you have in your hand is my rent money for this month.”

  Trisha made a face as she worked with the bag and machinery, then leaned on the countertop while they waited for the plasma to separate from the cells that would be returned to Jaime’s body. Head tipped to one side, Trisha asked, “You have a little boy, right? Nate?” Jaime nodded, knowing she was smiling. “Any trouble with the pregnancy?”

  Shaking her head, Jaime snorted a laugh. “Unbelievably easy. Pregnancy seemed to suit me. From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I’d never felt better. I had morning sickness, but only for a couple of weeks. After that, smooth sailing.”