Righteous Lies (Book 1: Dancing Moon Ranch Series)

Crombie Fertility Clinic; Portland, Oregon
 

Hands folded across her rounded
belly, Grace Templeton looked at the other pregnant woman sitting across from
her in the waiting room then shifted her gaze between the two men on either
side of the woman. The men were identical twins by features, but opposites in
every other way. The man holding the woman's hand looked civilized—freshly
shaven, hair neatly cut, clean shirt. The other man looked like he'd just come in
from the range, with his day-old stubble, and worn and faded clothes, and dark
hair in need of a trim. But clearly, the untidy twin had the most testosterone.
He was all male, from the heavily-muscled chest evident beneath his western-cut
shirt to the corded forearms revealed by his rolled up sleeves. Even his wide
scratched and dented belt buckle and scuffed western boots screamed of bucking
broncos and bull riding and hard-edged cowboys, and way, way too much
testosterone. Grace could not even imagine the quantity of semen the man would
produce if he came in to donate. Or the potency. Millions and millions of
squirming, assertive little sperm, all aggressively nudging each other out
while swimming around in search of that tiny egg to impregnate.

A smile tugged
at her lips, causing the man to affirm her speculation by saying in a voice
that was distinctly baritone, "Am I put together wrong?"

He'd also asked
a question Grace was at a loss to answer. She'd been scrutinizing the man from
head to toe while speculating on the quality of his sperm, not a usual subject
to address with a complete stranger. "I'm sorry," she said. "I
wasn't smiling because of something
about
you. It was a silly thought, and I have this habit of looking through people
when I'm thinking."

"Then I
guess being transparent is better than being put together wrong," the man
said. He unfolded his crossed leg, leading Grace to surmise if he were standing
he'd top out at around six-foot-five inches of lean, solid, testosteronic
muscle, if there was such a word.

Feeling a thud
in her tummy, she pressed her hands to it and felt the stirring of life. Five
more weeks and Marc junior would make his way into the world. She hoped he'd
have his father's blond hair and blue eyes and jovial personality...

The image of
the child growing inside her quickly vanished when a woman swept open a door
from the inner office, looked at the pregnant woman and the two men, and said,
"I presume you are Susan and Sam Hansen, and Jack Hansen?" The people
nodded. The woman turned to Grace then, and said, "And you are Grace Templeton?"
Grace also nodded. "Dr. Crombie will be with you folks in a few minutes,"
the woman said. "Can I offer you some coffee?" When everyone shook
their heads, the woman said, "It should not be long."

After the woman
left, the man with all the testosterone, who the receptionist had addressed as Jack,
looked at the others, and said, "Isn't Dr. Crombie owner of this
clinic?" The others nodded. Jack's face hardened. "This whole meeting
seems pretty irregular—being called in at night, the owner of the clinic present,
certified letters."

Grace looked at
Jack with a start. "I also got a certified letter setting up this meeting,"
she said, wondering if these peoples' reason for being called in was the same
as hers, though she had no idea what that was. But the receptionist implied
that all of them would be called in together.

"We can't
imagine what they want," Susan Hansen said. "They wanted all three of
us here."

Trying to
dismiss her own misgivings about the meeting, Grace shrugged, and said, "It
probably has to do with making a documentary film. They were talking about it
when I came in for the insemination procedure. They want to interview couples
and individuals, both donors and recipients, and follow them through the birth.
I'm a widow, and I was inseminated with my husband's sperm two years after he
died, so they'd want to show that frozen sperm's as good as fresh. Did you hear
anything about a movie?"

 
"No," Susan said, "but maybe
you're right." Her lips twitched in a nervous smile, and she added, "They
might be interested in us because we're having a child we hope will be a
genetic match for our son, who has a blood disorder and needs a bone marrow
transplant. If the cord blood of my baby is a match, our son will be able to lead
a normal life, but because Sam is sterile after having chemo," she said,
glancing at her husband, "I'm unable to have more children with him, but
Jack—" she touched the untidy man's arm "—being Sam's identical twin,
gives us a chance of having a match. So thanks to Jack and artificial
insemination this baby will be almost as close to our son genetically as if Sam
were the father."

Except Jack's
child would probably have scruffy hair, a stubborn chin, sinewy jaw muscles,
and be born with dirty fingernails, Grace was tempted to add as a touch of
humor. But seeing Jack's sober face, decided he wouldn't appreciate the remark.

"I'm so
sorry you lost your husband," Susan said, the sincerity in her tone having
the usual effect of making Grace choke up some. "It must be difficult
being pregnant, knowing you'll have to go through the birth process
alone."

Grace blinked
away any emergence of tears and said, in the cheery voice she'd become skilled
at fabricating, "I won't be alone. I'm giving birth at home so I'll have a
doula and a midwife, along with my sister, and my parents, and probably every
aunt, uncle and cousin in the family." She forced a smile to assure them
she was not a grieving widow, even though she was and always would be. But she
hated the looks of pity she got when the subject of her widowhood came up, the
same look Susan Hansen had given her moments before.

But she could
tell from the intense look in Jack's dark eyes as he stared at her, that she
hadn't fooled him. She got the feeling he too had been blindsided by tragedy at
one time or another...

"Your
first child?" Susan asked.

"Yes. It's
a boy," Grace replied. She intended her smile to go to Susan, but her gaze
slid to Jack, who assumed she was smiling at him. When he gave her a token
smile back, her heart quickened. He was not a man most woman could ignore. He
was brawnier than his twin. Thicker shoulders, beefier chest, forearms knotted
with veins, clearly the result of hard work. But unlike his twin, there was a
shrewdness about his face that made him seem unapproachable...

"I'm
having my baby at the Hackensack Medical Center in New Jersey where they can do
the cord blood transplant, assuming it's a match," Susan said.

Grace looked at
Susan's belly, feeling a little sorry for her to be carrying Jack's child. It
was certain to be a very large baby. "When are you due?" she asked.

"In five
weeks," Susan replied. "February 20th, to be exact."

"That's
amazing," Grace said. "February 20th is my due date. We must have
come for insemination on the same day."

Susan's gaze
dropped to Grace's belly, and she frowned. "Your stomach's much bigger
than mine," she said. "Your husband must have been a very big
man."

"Actually,
he wasn't," Grace replied. "But my doctor assures me my baby's fine.
Just a very big boy. So there's a large gene in the family somewhere." Her
eyes shifted to Jack, but he gave no indication he'd heard her. Instead, he sat
staring intently at her belly, the expression on his face, weighty, which
puzzled her...

The woman from
the inner office swept open the door again, and said, "If you'll all come
with me, we'll be going to the conference room."

Grace raised
herself out of the chair, finding her legs a little wobbly as she stood. Jack
stepped over to cup her elbow. "Are you all right?" he asked, while peering
down at her.

"I
sometimes get a little lightheaded when I stand," Grace replied. "I'm
fine now." But Jack's hand remained on her elbow as he walked with her,
and she didn't try to pull it away. It was good to feel a man's touch, even if
he was a stranger.