81

Seattle

FEBRUARY

The baby seems to be doing fine,” Dr. Galbreath said. “Second trimester development is normal. We’ve done our analysis, and it’s what we expect for a SHEVA second-stage fetus.”

This seemed a little cold to Kaye. “Boy or girl?” Kaye asked.

“Fifty-two XX,” Galbreath said. She opened a brown cardboard folder and gave Kaye a copy of the sample report. “Chromosomally abnormal female.”

Kaye stared at the paper, her heart thumping. She had not told Mitch, but she had hoped for a girl, to at least remove some of the distance, the number of differences, she might have to contend with. “Is there any duplication, or are they new chromosomes?” Kaye asked.

“If we had the expertise to decide that, we’d be famous,” Galbreath said. Then, less stiffly, “We don’t know. Cursory glance tells us they may not be duplicated.”

“No extra chromosome 21?” Kaye asked quietly, staring at the sheet of paper with its rows of numbers and brief string of explanatory words.

“I don’t think the fetus has Down syndrome,” Galbreath said. “But you know how I feel about this now.”

“Because of the extra chromosomes.”

Galbreath nodded.

“We have no way of knowing how many chromosomes Neandertals had,” Kaye said.

“If they’re like us, forty-six,” Galbreath said.

“But they weren’t like us. It’s still a mystery.” Kaye’s words sounded fragile even to her. Kaye stood up, one hand on her stomach. “As far as you can tell, it’s healthy.”

Galbreath nodded. “I have to ask, though, what do I know? Next to nothing. You test positive for herpes simplex type one, but negative for mono—that is, Epstein-Barr. You never had chicken pox. For God’s sake, Kaye, stay away from anyone with chicken pox.”

“I’ll be careful,” Kaye said.

“I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

“Wish me luck.”

“I wish you all the luck on Earth, and in the heavens. It doesn’t make me feel any better as a doctor.”

“It’s still our decision, Felicity.”

“Of course.” Galbreath flipped through more papers until she came to the back of the folder. “If this were my decision, you’d never see what I have to show you. We’ve lost our appeal. We have to get all our SHEVA patients to register. If you don’t agree, we have to register for you.”

“Then do so,” Kaye said evenly. She played with a fold on her slacks.

“I know that you’ve moved,” Galbreath said. “If I hand in an incorrect registration, Marine Pacific could get in trouble, and I could be called up before a review board and have my license revoked.” She gave Kaye a sad but level look. “I need your new address.”

Kaye stared at the form, then shook her head.

“I’m begging you, Kaye. I want to remain your doctor until this is over.”

“Over?”

“Until the delivery.”

Kaye shook her head again, with a stubbornly wild look, like a hunted rabbit.

Galbreath stared down at the end of the examination table, tears in her eyes. “I don’t have any choice. None of us has any choice.”

“I don’t want anyone coming to take my baby,” Kaye said, her breath short, hands cold.

“If you don’t cooperate, I can’t be your doctor,” Galbreath said. She turned abruptly and walked from the room. The nurse peered in a few moments later, saw Kaye standing there, stunned, and asked if she needed some help.

“I don’t have a doctor,” Kaye said.

The nurse stood aside as Galbreath entered again. “Please, give me your new address. I know Marine Pacific is fighting any local attempts by the Taskforce to contact its patients. I’ll put extra warnings on this file. We’re on your side, Kaye, believe me.”

Kaye wanted desperately to speak to Mitch, but he was in the University district, trying to finalize hotel arrangements for the conference. She did not want to break in on that.

Galbreath handed Kaye a pen. She filled out the form, slowly. Galbreath took it back. “They would have found out one way or another,” she said tightly.

 Kaye carried the report out of the hospital and walked to the brown Toyota Camry they had purchased two months ago. She sat in the car for ten minutes, numb, bloodless fingers clutching the wheel, and then turned the key in the ignition.

She was rolling down her window for air when she heard Galbreath calling after her. She gave half a thought to simply pulling out of the parking space and driving on, but she reap-plied the emergency brake and looked left. Galbreath was running across the parking lot. She put her hand on the door and peered in at Kaye.

“You wrote down the wrong address, didn’t you?” she asked, huffing, her face red.

Kaye simply looked blank.

Galbreath closed her eyes, caught her breath. “There’s nothing wrong with your baby,” she said. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. I don’t understand anything. Why aren’t you rejecting her as foreign tissue—she’s completely different from you! You might as well be carrying a gorilla. But you tolerate her, nurture her. All the mothers do. Why doesn’t the Taskforce study thatl”

“It’s a puzzle,” Kaye admitted.

“Please forgive me, Kaye.”

“You’re forgiven,” Kaye said with no real conviction.

“No, I mean it. I don’t care if they take away my license— they could be wrong about this whole thing! I want to be your doctor.”

Kaye hid her face in her hands, exhausted by the tension. Her neck felt like steel springs. She lifted her head and put her hand on Galbreath’s. “If it’s possible, I’d like that,” she said.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do, promise me—let me be there to deliver?” Galbreath pleaded. “I want to learn everything I can about SHEVA pregnancies, to be prepared, and I want to deliver your daughter.”

Kaye parked across the street from the old, square University Plaza Hotel, across the freeway from the University of Washington. She found her husband on the lower level, waiting for a formal bid from the hotel manager, who had retired to his office.

She told him what had happened at Marine Pacific. Mitch banged the door of the meeting room with his fist, furious. “I should never have left you—not for a minute!”

“You know that’s not practical,” Kaye said. She put a hand on his shoulder. “I handled it pretty well, I think.”

“I can’t believe Galbreath would do that to you.”

“I know she didn’t want to.”

Mitch circled, kicked at a metal folding chair, waved his hands helplessly.

“She wants to help us,” Kaye said.

“How can we trust her now?”

“There’s no need to be paranoid.”

Mitch stopped short. “There’s a big old train rolling down the tracks. We’re in its headlights. I know that, Kaye. It’s not just the government. Every pregnant woman on Earth is suspect. Augustine—that absolute bastard—he’s making sure that you’re all pariahs! I could kill him!”

Kaye took hold of his arms and tugged gently, then hugged him. He was angry enough to try to shrug her off and continue stalking around the room. She held on tighter. “Please, enough, Mitch.”

“And now you’re out here—exposed to anybody who might walk by!” he said, arms quivering.

“I refuse to become a hothouse flower,” Kaye said defensively.

He gave up and dropped his shoulders. “What can we do? When are they going to send police vans with thugs in them to round us up?”

“I don’t know,” Kaye said. “Something’s got to give. I believe in this country, Mitch. People won’t put up with this.”

Mitch sat in a folding chair at the end of an aisle. The room was brightly lit, with fifty empty chairs arranged in five rows, a linen-covered table and coffee service at the back. “Wen-dell and Maria say the pressure is just incredible. They’ve filed protests, but no one in the department will admit to anything. Funding gets cut, offices reassigned, labs harassed by inspectors. I’m losing all my faith, Kaye. I saw it happen to me after...”

“I know,” Kaye said.

“And now the State Department won’t let Lrock return from Irnrbruck.”

“When did you hear that?”

“Merton called from Bethesda this afternoon. Augustine is trying to shut this down completely. It’ll be just you and me— and you’ll have to go into hiding!”

Kaye sat beside him. She had heard nothing from any of her former colleagues back East. Nothing from Judith. Perversely, she wanted to talk with Marge Cross. She wanted to reach out for all the support left in the world.

She missed her mother and father terribly.

Kaye leaned over and put her head on Mitch’s shoulder. He rubbed her scalp gently with his big hands.

They had not even discussed the real news of the morning. Important things got lost so quickly in the fray. “I know something you don’t know,” Kaye said.

“What’s that?”

“We’re going to have a daughter.”

Mitch stopped breathing for a moment and his face wrinkled up. “My God,” he said.

“It was one or the other,” Kaye said, grinning at his reaction.

“It’s what you wanted.”

“Did I say that?”

“Christmas Eve. You said you wanted to buy dolls for her.”

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I just get a little shock every time we take a new step, that’s all.”

“Dr. Galbreath says she’s healthy. There’s nothing wrong with her. She has the extra chromosomes...but we knew that.”

Mitch put his hand on her stomach. “I can feel her moving,” he said, and got on the floor in front of Kaye to lay his ear against her. “She’s going to be so beautiful.”

 The hotel manager walked into the meeting room with a clutch of papers and looked down on them in surprise. In his fifties, with a full head of curly brown hair and a plump, nondescript face, he could have been anyone’s mediocre uncle. Mitch got up and brushed offhis pants.

“My wife,” Mitch said, embarrassed.

“Of course,” the manager said. He narrowed his pale blue eyes and took Mitch aside. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? You didn’t tell me about that. There’s no mention in here...” He shuffled through the papers, looked up at Mitch accusingly. “None at all. We have to be so careful now about public gatherings and exposures.”

Mitch leaned against the Buick, chin in hand, rubbing. His fingers made a small rasping sound though he had shaved that morning. He pulled his hand back. Kaye stood before him.

“I’m going to drive you back to the house,” he said.

“What about the Buick?”

He shook his head. “I’ll pick it up later. Wendell can give me a ride.”

“Where do we go from here?” Kaye asked. “We could try another hotel. Or rent a lodge hall.”

Mitch made a disgusted face. “The bastard was looking for an excuse. He knew your name. He called somebody. He checked up, like a good little Nazi.” He flung his hands in the air. “Long live America the free!”

“If Brock can’t enter the country again—”

“We’ll hold the conference on the Internet,” Mitch said. “We’ll figure out something. But it’s you I’m concerned about right now. Something’s bound to happen.”

“What?”

“Don’t you feel it?” He rubbed his forehead. “The look in that manager’s eyes, that cowardly bastard. He’s like a frightened goat. He doesn’t know jack shit about biology. He lives his life in small safe moves and he doesn’t buck the system. Nearly everybody is like him. They get pushed around and they run in the direction they’re pushed.”

“That sounds so cynical,” Kaye said.

“It’s political reality. I’ve been so stupid up until now. Letting you travel alone. You could be picked up, exposed—”

“I don’t want to be kept in a cave, Mitch.”

Mitch winced.

Kaye put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You know what I mean.”

“Everything’s in place. Kaye. You saw it in Georgia. I saw it in the Alps. We’ve become strangers. People hate us.”

“They hate me,” Kaye said, her face going pale. “Because I’m pregnant.”

“They hate me, too.”

“But they’re not asking you to register like you were a Jew in Germany.”

“Not yet,” Mitch said. “Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm around her and escorted her to the Toyota. Kaye found it awkward to match his long stride. “I think we may have a day or two, maybe three. Then...somebody’s going to do something. You’re a thorn in their sides. A double thorn.”

“Why double?”

“Celebrities have power,” Mitch said. “People know who you are, and you know the truth.”

Kaye got into the passenger side and rolled down the window. The inside of the car was warm. Mitch closed the door for her. “Do I?”

“You’re damn right you do. Sue made you an offer. Let’s look into it. I’ll tell Wendell where we’re going. Nobody else.”

“I like the house,” Kaye said.

“We’ll find another,” Mitch said.