Fertile Ground (48 page)

Jerome had turned state’s evidence in exchange for total immunity. He’d admitted implanting the iUDs and convincing Matthew to substitute donor ova for patients’ eggs. Because of the worrisome lack of donor eggs, he’d also referred women who wanted tubal ligations to Matthew. And Matthew, telling the women that he was preparing them for contraceptive surgery, would give them drugs to stimulate ovulation, then remove their eggs during the surgery. Lisa wanted Nestle punished but understood how valuable his testimony would be. There was no perfect justice, she knew.

Norman was still under psychiatric observation; Lisa had visited him at the hospital. She knew from Barone that Matthew wanted to talk to her.

She had many questions to ask him but had no intention of seeing him again and listening to his lies.

Some questions were minor: When had he put the money in her pantry? Whose idea had it been to erase his name and write it in again on the patient files—Matthew’s or Paula’s? Why had he erased Sam’s name to implicate him? Why had he kept accurate data regarding donors and egg recipients, data that had led Lisa to discover what he and Nestle were scheming? Because as a scientist, he’d wanted to document the success of his procedures? Because he’d been driven by his ego?

When had he ripped the September pages from the lab log, and the July page that contained Chelsea’s name and Paula’s alias? When had he begun his affair with Paula-long before he helped her conceive? Paula had told Bar one she’d decorated Matthew’s apartment—that was why her living room had seemed so familiar to Lisa. Was that when they had become close? Had they schemed while looking at fabric swatches?

Some questions were more important:

Why had he chosen Lisa as his “fiancee”—because she was naive, trusting, lonely? (She would like to think that at some point he’d loved her, but she suspected that it had always been about greed.) Had he felt even the smallest qualms about letting her believe he’d been murdered, knowing that she would be racked with guilt and confusion about a marriage he knew would never take place?

Where had he learned to be so cruel?

When had he become a killer?

The Kohen accepted the money and, swinging it in a circular fashion over the baby’s head, recited the ritual blessing of redemption: “This instead of that… this is pardoned because of that….”

Edmond was committed to reopening the clinic when the negative press died down. Lisa didn’t think the press would ever die down—new lawsuits were being filed daily against the clinic. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to work for Edmond. Unlike Barone, she wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t known about the donor-egg scheme.

Or that he’d wanted to know. She blamed herself, too-she’d had reservations about the ethics of the refund policy but had done nothing. She should have spoken up.

She wasn’t worried about her career. She’d get another position. In the meantime, she could use the money she’d received from selling her engagement ring. She felt not an iota of guilt. The Kohen placed his right hand on the infant’s head and blessed him: Ha shem will protect you from every evil. He will guard your soul.”

“Amen,” Lisa said fervently, not only for Reuben and his sister, both of whom had almost been victims of Matthew and Paula, but also for Andy, who had certainly been redeemed from evil. She was confident that he’d be in good hands with Chelsea’s parents, who were officially adopting him. Curtis Rhodes had told her a few days ago that his family approved of the adoption. He wasn’t certain as to the disposition of the trust, but he’d guaranteed that the boy wouldn’t lack for anything.

The Kohen handed the infant to Baruch and filled a cup of wine.

Out of the corner of her eye. Lisa saw Sam appear at her side. Her heart swelled with happiness.

Elana had gone with her to meet with a board of three rabbis who handled conversions. Though Lisa had been converted as a child, the rabbis had explained sympathetically, she would have to convert again because she had rejected the observance of Judaism. She’d felt a flicker of the old resentment—at the rabbis, at her parents—but she was over that now.

In every phone call with her parents, she could hear how happy they were about her return to observance, how pleased they were about Sam. And she was deriving immense pleasure from studying Judaism with Elana. The process might take a while, she’d warned Sam. The rabbis wanted to be sure this was what she wanted.

I’m a patient guy, he’d said. I’ve been waiting years for the right person.

He leaned close to her now. “My parents are coming

next week,” he whispered. “They can’t wait to meet you.”

“I want to meet them, too.” She felt a spasm of normal anxiety, but not the numbing fear that would have overwhelmed her two months ago. Another redemption, from the pain of her past.

“They’re going to love you,” Sam said.

“You think so, huh? I guess we’re a match made in Heaven,” she said lightly.

“No question about it.” His gray eyes were serious. “You know what Benjie told me? Forty days before a child’s conception, a heavenly voice decrees who his or her mate will be.”

Not Asher, she thought. Not Matthew. “I like that,” she said quietly, nodding.

“I thought you would.” His smile was a caress.

The Kohen took the cup of wine and recited a Messing, and the crowd said, “Amen.

“