The Surrogate (6 page)

Obviously, the people to whom she was now contractually bound were wealthy beyond anything she could even begin to imagine, which represented enormous good luck for the baby she would carry for them. The child would have every advantage that money could buy. He or she would never be made fun of for wearing secondhand clothes.

Which hadn’t been the worst thing in the world, she decided.

The plane descended very quickly and soon the wheels were touching the ground. When it had rolled to a stop, Rusty emerged from the cockpit. “Welcome to Hartmann Ranch, home to the only bowling alley in Marshall County,” he said with a grin. “If the ranch were a town, it would be the second largest in the county, which may not be saying too much since there are only two so-called towns in the whole damned county, and one of them is just a wide spot in the road.”

W
AKEFULNESS INTRUDED
on the woman’s sleeping brain like water slowly seeping into a hard, dry sponge. She struggled against it for a time, then opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Always the same place. The room that wasn’t square and wasn’t round and had lots of skinny windows with diamond-shaped panes.

Her neck hurt. It always did when she nodded off in her wheelchair.

And she was hungry. Surely it was time for the witch to bring up her tray. She didn’t like her anymore, but at least
she
spoke English. The witch used to work for her, but now somehow she was the boss. Which was irritating.
Very
irritating.

The woman was trying to decide what time of day it was and whether her next meal would be breakfast, lunch, or dinner when she heard the roar of a plane.

Frantically she spun her wheelchair around. Maybe someone was coming to see her. Her daughter, maybe. Or even her son.

She saw the plane roaring by and knew it would make a big curve before coming in for a landing. She waited until it completed the curve and rolled her wheelchair to the correct window in plenty of time to watch it touch down and roll to a stop.

She used to fly in airplanes all the time. Handsome men in limousines would be waiting for her. Sometimes she sat up front with them. Sometimes she invited them inside.

She watched while a figure climbed down the airplane’s steep stairs. The person was too far away for her to see who it was. And it was getting dark.

She continued watching as headlights approached the house, then she leaned forward hoping to see who was in the vehicle, but it disappeared under the portico.

“Shit!” she called out angrily.

A young Mexican man in a golf cart met the plane.

Jamie held Ralph on the short ride to the ranch house. The setting sun reflected in its many windows, making it look as though there were a raging fire within the stone structure and its octagon-shaped tower.

Two women were waiting for her by the imposing front door of roughhewn wood with heavy iron hinges. One woman was tall and somewhat formidable-looking with very erect posture and her coal-black hair pulled back into a bun. She was wearing a tailored navy suit with sturdy navy pumps on her feet. The other woman was younger with a stocky build, very short hair, and dressed in khaki pants and shirt, with a holster and flashlight hanging from her wide leather belt.

“Good evening, Miss Long,” the older woman said, extending her hand. “I am Ann Montgomery, head housekeeper, and this is Chief Katy Kelly, who is in charge of ranch security.”

Jamie shook hands with both women. “Everyone calls me Kelly,” the younger woman said.

“And this is Ralph,” Jamie said, looking down at her dog, who was looking up at the two women expectantly, with his crooked tail wagging. After living most of his life in a cage, Ralph was turning out to be a very friendly dog.

Kelly dropped down on one knee and scratched Ralph’s head. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you take a walk with me while Montgomery shows your mommy around?” Ralph dutifully wagged his tail again, and Jamie handed the leash to Kelly. Then she followed Miss Montgomery through the front door into the delightfully cool interior of what she realized was a solid stone structure. Like a castle.

An arched entryway opened onto a pillared hall with a beamed ceiling. Twin curving staircases led to a landing with three enormous windows comprised of small round panes of brilliant gemlike colors. From the landing the staircase branched again and continued to a second-floor gallery.

“I feel like I’m on a movie set,” Jamie said.

“Yes, it is rather impressive, isn’t it?” Miss Montgomery said. “The original ranch house was built by Amanda Hartmann’s grandfather, who was a cattle rancher and founder of Palo Duro Oil and Gas Company,” she explained, speaking with authority and a touch of reverence in her voice. She was older than Jamie had at first thought. Well into her sixties. Or older. Her erect bearing belied her age. Her blue-black hair was obviously dyed. Her dark red lipstick had bled into the creases that radiated outward from her mouth.

“Every stone used to construct both the original structure and the south wing was quarried in the state of Texas,” Miss Montgomery continued, “and all the lumber was milled from Texas trees with the exception of the hand-hewn doors, which were made in Mexico. The south wing was added by Amanda’s parents—Senator Jason Hartmann and Mary Millicent Tutt Hartmann—to provide additional accommodations for guests and to increase the size of the kitchen and service areas. They loved to entertain at the ranch. When Amanda and Mister Toby had their wedding here, it was like old times,” the housekeeper said with a wistful sigh. “Some of the stockmen even put on a rodeo for the guests.”

“How long have you worked here?” Jamie asked.

“I have lived here almost all of my life,” the housekeeper said as she started up the stairs.

Jamie listened as Miss Montgomery explained that the ranch had long served as a retreat for family members and friends, Palo Duro board members, and board members of the Alliance of Christian Voters, which was founded by Mary Millicent. In addition to family quarters, there were six guest suites. The ranch-house compound was enclosed by a security fence and included a large garage, a shed used by the gardeners, four bungalows for in-house staff and their families, and two bungalows for overflow guests. Other ranch employees lived in an area north of the ranch known as Hartmann City.

From the second-floor gallery, Jamie paused to look across the great hall at the soaring stained-glass windows as they captured the last rays of the setting sun.

“Amanda’s grandfather saw similar windows while touring in Italy with his wife back in the early 1900s,” Miss Montgomery said. “He had Italian artisans duplicate the windows and hired an architect to design a house that would properly showcase them.”

“Was the tower his idea?” Jamie asked.

“No, actually the tower was Mary Millicent’s idea. It was added when the south wing was built.”

“What’s it used for?” Jamie asked.

“The first floor is a storeroom, and there’s a chapel on the second floor,” the housekeeper said. “The upper part is just an empty shell.”

Jamie followed the housekeeper through a doorway that led to the south wing. On the left was an arched entryway to a tiny chapel with a softly illuminated altar. As they walked down the hall, Jamie noticed that each door had a brass plate with the name of a biblical landmark. The housekeeper stopped in front of “Cana.”

“Do you know why I am here?” Jamie asked.

Miss Montgomery nodded.

“Do other people here at the ranch know?”

“Only myself, the nurse who will care for you, and Chief Kelly. As far as everyone else is concerned, you are Miss Amanda’s guest. It isn’t unusual for her to allow individuals to live here for a time—to heal, to meditate, or to write. When it becomes apparent that you are pregnant, those who live and work here will assume that you are an unmarried young woman that Amanda has taken under her wing. And you will tell
no one
otherwise. I understand that you have signed a confidentiality agreement with Amanda and her husband. That agreement began the minute that you signed it.”

Jamie nodded. “Yes, I understand that.”

“All of us here at the ranch think
very
highly of Amanda,” Miss Montgomery went on. “She is not only our employer, she is our spiritual leader.”

Unsure if a response was required of her, Jamie fiddled with the handle on her small traveling bag.

“And you, too, will feel the same as time goes by,” Miss Montgomery continued, moving closer to Jamie and placing a hand on her arm. With her face so close that Jamie could see the pores in her nose, the housekeeper said, “You will come to understand that God put you on this earth to bear a child for Amanda Hartmann.”

Jamie took a step backward. She started to tell the woman that she had not come here to carry out a godly mission. She had a business arrangement with Amanda Hartmann and Toby Travis that had nothing to do with God.

But she decided to change the subject instead. “Is there another stairway that I should use to the take the dog in and out?” she asked.

Miss Montgomery pointed to a door at the end of the hall and, returning to her businesslike demeanor, said, “The stairs lead to a back entrance by the kitchen. The security alarm is activated between ten
P.M
. and six
A.M
. You will be served your meals in your rooms, except for Sunday morning, when the kitchen is closed. Laundry should be bundled and left outside your door. Other than the immediate grounds, Amanda has specified that you are not to leave the house unless I or a member of the security staff accompanies you. The cook will visit with you in the morning about your food preferences. Now, if you’ll tell me what you would like for dinner, I will see that it is prepared. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

“What about my car?”

“It is parked in the garage behind the house. After you remove whatever of your possessions you’ll need during your stay here, the car will be stored in the motor pool in Hartmann City.” The housekeeper said good-night and promised to take her on a tour of the ranch in the morning.

Jamie thanked the woman and entered the rooms that were to be her home for some months to come. French doors opened onto a small balcony. A large cabinet housed a big-screen television and several pieces of colorful Native American pottery. Indian blankets hung on the walls, and the furnishings were handsome handmade Mexican pieces. A kitchenette hidden behind folding doors was already stocked with dog food, bottled water, and snacks. A small desk sat under a window; beside it was an electric typewriter on a metal stand. Jamie remembered her father typing on a machine like that but hadn’t seen one in years.

The spacious bedroom was furnished with a king-size bed, an easy chair and ottoman, a lamp table, and a cabinet with a second smaller television set. The bathroom had a large oval tub, a glass-enclosed shower stall, a large mirrored vanity, and a skylight. A cabinet by the tub held stacks of thick white towels and washcloths and a basket of bath soaps and toiletries.

Jamie put away the things from her traveling bag, then sat on the sofa waiting for Kelly to return with her dog. For now, this apartment was her home, but it would feel homier when she had some of her own possessions in place.

Jamie took another look around and did some push-ups and crunches. Then she opened the door and looked up and down the empty hallway.

She went back to the sofa and reached for the remote control. Soon the familiar voice of a CNN anchor filled the small room. She watched the news and then tried to plan how she would make the two rooms seem more her own. She would move the Indian blanket over the sofa to another wall and hang her great-grandmother’s mirror there. Or she might leave the blanket there and move the sofa.

She looked at her watch, trying to decide how long it had been since she and Ralph arrived at the house. More than an hour. Maybe an hour and a half.

What was taking Kelly so damned long?
She needed her dog so she wouldn’t feel so alone.

What if he had slipped out of his collar and gotten lost? Maybe the reason Kelly was taking so long was because she was out looking for him.

By the time the security chief finally arrived, Jamie was frantic. “Sorry to have taken so long,” Kelly said. “A deputy from the county sheriff’s office dropped by for a chitchat.”

Jamie dropped to her knees, put her arms around Ralph’s neck, and accepted his doggy kisses on her chin. She planted a few kisses of her own on the top of his head.

“I guess Montgomery explained the rules,” Kelly said. “Miss Hartmann wants you looked after, and I plan to carry out her wishes.”

“Fine,” Jamie said, without looking up at her.

She waited until Kelly left before bursting into tears.

She was homesick for a home that no longer was hers. For a grandmother who was dead and buried. For parents she barely remembered. The only family she had left was a sister who didn’t want her and two nieces she didn’t know. And without being able to tell anyone where she was or what she was doing, she was cut off from her friends. This dear, homely dog was all that stood between her and loneliness as vast as the treeless plain that surrounded this isolated place.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Jamie awoke to a sunlit bedroom and her dog standing on the bed using all the body language at his disposal to tell her that it was time for his walk. She stretched and accepted Ralph’s urgent kisses. “Yes, I know,” she told him. “Give me just a minute to wake up.”

She closed her eyes, trying to recall a dream. A nice dream.

About her grandmother.

Yes, she had dreamed that Granny was sitting in the easy chair in the corner of the room holding Ralph on her lap. Jamie had started to call out to her but realized that Granny and the dog were both sound asleep, so she went back to sleep herself feeling safe and peaceful and no longer alone.

Jamie smiled. In a very real sense, her grandmother would always be with her.

“You are a happy dog,” Jamie said, scratching behind Ralph’s ears. “My grandmother would have liked you.”

With the dog waiting impatiently, his tail thumping on the floor, Jamie pulled on her jeans and sneakers and, with Ralph following, headed down the back stairs. She could hear voices in the kitchen—animated female voices speaking in Spanish as the women went about their work.

She watched while Ralph carefully inspected the large backyard, which was completely enclosed by a six-foot-high wall and a precisely clipped boxwood hedge. The yard was beautifully landscaped and included a graceful gazebo, a rose garden, and an enormous live oak tree that shaded stone benches and a beautiful life-size statue of a kneeling Christ. At the rear of the yard, a padlocked wrought-iron gate led to the swimming pools and tennis courts she had seen from the airplane.

Shortly after she had eaten her breakfast, the cook arrived. A slight, unsmiling woman, Anita listened without expression as Jamie explained her food preferences. Midmorning, Miss Montgomery arrived to take her on the promised tour of the house and ranch. At first Jamie thought the woman was wearing the same outfit as yesterday but realized this was a different navy blue suit—less tailored and with looser sleeves.

Briefly, Miss Montgomery showed Jamie the kitchen and formally introduced her to the “in-house” staff. In addition to Anita, there were two younger women named Rosa and Dolores and an older woman named Teresa. The women each acknowledged the introduction with a glance and a nod in Jamie’s direction, then continued what they were doing. Miss Montgomery explained that the three women assisted Anita in the kitchen and did general housecleaning and the laundry. When the Hartmanns were in residence, other employees filled in as needed.

Once they were back in the hallway, Jamie asked, “Why are they so unsociable?”

“They have been told to be courteous but to respect your privacy,” Miss Montgomery said. “Now, shall we continue? This door leads to the basement, where the laundry and storerooms are located—and where we maintain a significant food larder, which allows us to manage when the roads are impassible.”

“Does that happen often?” Jamie asked.

“We usually have two or three major snowstorms every winter, and every so often a road will wash out,” the housekeeper said as they entered the great hall.

In the light of day, the soaring room seemed more welcoming. The morning sun streaming through the magnificent stained-glass windows bathed the room in glorious light. Graceful palm and weeping fig trees in enormous pottery urns filled the corners of the room, and large Native American rugs were scattered about the stone floors. “Mary Millicent used a mixture of southwestern, Mexican, and European furnishings, art, and rugs to decorate the house, and Amanda has kept this part of the house much as it was when she and her brother were children,” Miss Montgomery explained.

Arched doorways opened into a dining hall and a library, each with a stone fireplace large enough to stand in and soaring windows with leaded panes. The dining room held a massive table large enough to seat a dozen or more. Two walls of the library were lined with books, and numerous handsomely framed portraits and photographs were displayed on the other walls. Standing in front of an imposing painting of Amanda and Gus Hartmann’s grandfather, the housekeeper explained that her father had served as Buck Hartmann’s ranch foreman. “That was back in the days before feedlots, and thousands of cattle roamed free on the ranch. Buck Hartmann spent much of his time wildcatting for oil all over the Southwest. My father pretty much ran the ranch, and my mother was in charge of the house. Buck’s wife didn’t like it here, and as the years went by she spent most of her time in Houston. They had only the one child, Jason, who was born here at the ranch. My father told me that when Jason was born, Buck called all the help together, including the cowboys and field hands. They gathered out there in the great hall, and Buck stood on the second-floor gallery and, holding up his newborn son for all to see, declared that the boy would one day be president of the United States. Jason would have been, too, if he had lived long enough,” Miss Montgomery said with a sigh, looking up at a picture of a handsome young man in western attire sitting on a horse and cradling a rifle in his arms.

“Jason loved the ranch but came less and less often after he began his political career,” Miss Montgomery continued. “He served first in the Texas Legislature and was governor when he married Mary Millicent Tutt, who was already famous in her own right,” the housekeeper said, pointing to a picture of the handsome couple on their wedding day.

The next picture they viewed was a framed
Life
magazine cover from the early 1960s. The black-and-white photograph on the cover had been taken from offstage, capturing not only the woman occupying the center of the stage but a sizable portion of the audience, all of whom were standing, their hands in the air, their uplifted faces filled with rapture. The woman was wearing a white robe, her arms wide, her fingers outstretched, and her face—bathed in a circle of light—tilted heavenward. She fairly radiated energy and power, and every single person in that audience appeared to be under her spell. The words below the picture read:
Televangelist Mary Millicent Tutt shepherding in a new breed of Christianity.

Jamie found the picture disturbing. It made her think of other pictures—ones with a uniformed dictator standing on a balcony and masses of people in the square below with their arms uplifted in salute.

“Oh, my,” Jamie said. “That’s quite a picture.”

“Yes,” Miss Montgomery agreed. “Mary Millicent Tutt was the first woman to have a nationwide radio ministry and the first woman to preach God’s word to a nationwide television audience.

“After their children were born,” Miss Montgomery continued, “Mary Millicent traveled less and devoted more of her time to writing. She and the children loved the ranch and came here often. After Jason’s death, she founded the Alliance of Christian Voters and began traveling again, but the children spent their summers and school vacations here with me,” she said with a wistful smile as she pointed to a photograph of two children in a pony cart with the ranch house in the background. “Those were good times,” she said, her gaze lingering on the photograph.

“Where does Amanda’s brother live now?” Jamie asked.

“Gus Hartmann lives in northern Virginia and is a very busy man, what with the oil company and the Alliance to oversee. We don’t see him here at the ranch as often as we would like. Amanda, too, although she comes more often than her brother.”

Jamie pointed to a picture of a gloriously handsome youth with unruly golden hair and a beautiful smile sitting on the top rail of a fence. “Is that Amanda’s son?”

The housekeeper closed her eyes momentarily as though dealing with a sudden sharp pain. “Yes, that is a picture of Sonny,” she said.

Jamie wanted to see other pictures of Sonny, to ask more questions about Amanda Hartmann’s only child, but Miss Montgomery turned abruptly and walked briskly from the room. Jamie hastened after her. “Does Gus Hartmann know that his sister has engaged a surrogate mother to have a child for her?”

“I am sure that he does,” Miss Montgomery said. “Gus and Amanda are very close.”

After they finished touring the ranch house, Miss Montgomery drove Jamie in a pickup truck over the mile or so of gravel road that separated the ranch-house compound from Hartmann City. In her suit and pumps, the housekeeper looked out of place behind the wheel of a truck, but she seemed no stranger to the vehicle and drove with a heavy foot, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

“Do you live in Hartmann City?” Jamie asked as they sped along.

“No, I have an apartment in the ranch house,” Miss Montgomery explained. “I was raised in a two-story house that stood where the garage is now. When the south wing was built, Mary Millicent included a spacious apartment for me on the first floor.”

Miss Montgomery parked alongside the ranch store, which had gas pumps in front and offered a snack bar and a surprisingly wide range of merchandise, including groceries, household items, gardening tools, clothing, cosmetics and pharmaceuticals, and even toys. As they walked by a mail drop and a bank of post-office boxes, Miss Montgomery said, “According to the contract you signed, any mail you send must go through me.”

“Yes, I realize that,” Jamie responded.

As they drove away from the store, Miss Montgomery pointed out a large building that housed the motor pool where Jamie’s car would be kept. Then they drove by the schoolhouse, power plant, and a trailer park with several dozen trailers, each with a small garden plot. Across the road from the trailer park, Miss Montgomery pointed out two bunkhouses where the single workers lived. Behind the bunkhouses was a long, narrow building that housed a two-lane bowling alley.

Miss Montgomery paused in front of a charming church with arched windows and a small bell tower. “Our people are very devout,” she noted with pride. “Amanda looks after their souls, and Gus takes care of their legal status. After they have been with us three years, they are allowed to bring their families here.”

“So, most of the employees are Mexican?” Jamie asked.

Miss Montgomery nodded. “At least two-thirds. The rest are homegrown. But we are one people in our love for the Lord and for Amanda Hartmann.”

Unable to think of an appropriate response, Jamie viewed the church in silence. The glare of the sunlight on its white exterior and polished windows was blinding.

Miss Montgomery slowed as she pointed out the medical clinic. “Our nurse, Freda Kohl, looks after folks who live here at the ranch and in the surrounding area.”

Miss Montgomery explained that Nurse Freda would be taking care of Jamie unless there were complications, in which case she would be taken to a hospital in Amarillo.

“What if I have to be inseminated a second or third time?” Jamie asked.

“If that becomes necessary, I will accompany you to Amarillo,” Miss Montgomery said.

Just beyond the cluster of buildings were a baseball diamond and basketball court, a huge silo, and a stable and corral. Amanda and her husband liked to ride, Miss Montgomery explained. And even though most of the cattle were now kept in feedlots located well away from Hartmann City and horses were no longer needed to work the herds, the ranch still kept quarter horses, mostly for recreational purposes, although they did come in handy during winter weather.

Before heading back to the ranch house, Miss Montgomery stopped at the greenhouse, where an elderly gardener helped Jamie select three small holly bushes for her balcony that he would transplant into terra-cotta pots and deliver later in the day.

“Thank you for showing me around,” Jamie told Miss Montgomery as the truck stopped in front of the ranch house.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her usual stern expression softening somewhat. “I know this must be quite an adjustment for you, and I do want to make things as comfortable as possible. But part of my job is to make sure that you uphold your end of the bargain you made with Amanda Hartmann and her husband.”

“I understand,” Jamie said.

After lunch, one of the gardeners helped Jamie unload the things she wanted from her car and carry them upstairs. He also helped her move the sofa and hang her great-grandmother’s mirror before he went back to his usual chores. Jamie placed her houseplants around the sitting room and put her address book, tablets, pencils, pens, and the like in the small desk, which was already stocked with two packages of typing paper. She unpacked a box of books—mostly textbooks and well-read favorites from her childhood—and arranged them on the shelves and put her grandmother’s sewing stand by the chair in the bedroom. She put pictures of her grandmother and her parents on the bedside table. Then she put away her clothing and looked around for a safe place to keep her grandmother’s garnet and pearl ring along with a spare set of car keys, her ATM card, and cash. After ruling out several locations, she removed a couple of the tacks from the sewing stand’s floral lining and slipped the items under it.

She considered other decorative touches she might add—throw pillows, a wall clock, another plant or two—but decided there was no point in spending money on a place that, no matter how homey she made it, would never really feel like home.

During her first week, Jamie quickly fell into a routine of walking her dog, swimming laps, and eating solitary meals either in front of the television or seated at the small round table with a book propped in front of her. When she walked, one of Kelly’s security guards walked with her. When she swam, one of them sat by the pool. By the end of the first week, Lester Thompson, the youngest member of the force, was usually the one sent to watch over her.

With little else to occupy her time, the daily walks grew longer. At first glance, the countryside was boring, but gradually Jamie began to see beauty in fields of wheat and native grasses waving gracefully in the wind and in the splashes of yellow, orange, red, and purple provided by wild-flowers. Often she spotted the various creatures that inhabited the high prairie—jackrabbits, prairie dogs, snakes, lizards, armadillos, deer, and antelopelike animals known as pronghorns. Using her grandmother’s well-worn guide to Texas birds, she began keeping a log of all the birds she saw during her walks. Already she had spotted prairie chickens, wild turkeys, Western kingbirds, a scissor-tailed flycatcher, red-tailed hawks, and a pair of horned larks.