LITMIR.BIZ

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sessions with a therapist told her it wasn’t going to get any better, and the only person who could help her was herself, so she’d buckled down and filled every waking hour of the day with some activity. That way, at night she fell into bed, exhausted, so she could wake up the following day and do it all over again.

      Transferring her eggs from the Samaritan Fertility Clinic to the clinic in Davidson, where Addie lived, was the last thing she needed to arrange before heading out. Her game plan was to do some research and maybe . . . maybe think about selling one or two of the eggs to get herself a little nest egg of money so she could start off her new life free of debt and with a purpose in life. Selling off two would leave her ten eggs. Perhaps down the road, when she was really ready to take on her new life, she would consider having Andy’s baby. Then again, maybe not. Surely, somewhere in the years to come she’d meet some nice guy who would love her and want her to bear his children. That someone might not want some other man’s child, she told herself.

      Tears puddled in her eyes. Don’t go there, Bella, she warned herself. “Okay, I won’t go there,” she muttered over and over until she almost believed it. She really needed to think about this some more.

      Having made the decision that she was not prepared to deal with anything having to do with the fertility clinic, she turned around and walked back out through the turnstile. She was lucky enough to find a cab dropping someone off at the clinic and directed the driver to take her back to her apartment. She’d come back tomorrow. This, she told herself, was just a practice run to see if she was mentally ready to sever this particular tie. And, as she had just discovered, she was not. Not today, at least. With any luck, tomorrow would work.

      Back in the apartment, Bella made herself a pot of coffee, called to cancel her appointment, and made a new one for the following day. She needed to finish what she’d started earlier. Once and for all. No more waffling. While the coffee dripped, she picked up the roll of packing tape and ripped off a long piece to wrap around a box that was clearly labeled, Andy’s Stuff. There was tape on the box already, but it was turning yellow and peeling away from the opening. She wondered if the day would ever come when she would want to look inside the box to see what Andy considered worth saving. Probably not, she told herself. Maybe when she had some spare time she would institute a search for Andy’s sister and send his things to her. Then again, maybe not, since she had a hate on for Andy’s faceless sister.

      Bella stared off into space, her thoughts everywhere as she let them take her back in time to the day Andy told her he was going to freeze his sperm and asked her to freeze her eggs. He’d said military life, especially during wartime, was unpredictable, and he knew guys who came back all shot up and no longer able to make babies. He didn’t want that to happen, but if it did, he wanted to know Bella could still have a baby, carry it to term, and continue the Nolan bloodline. He said the same was true of her. She could get sick, hit by a car, all manner of horrible things could happen to her that would prevent her from having a baby.

      She’d actually believed him because he was so intense. The whole thing sounded positively ghoulish to her, but Andy was so serious, so intent, and so worried something would happen that she said yes. It wasn’t that she regretted it; she didn’t, not really. Because his points had some merit. What she resented was the monthly payments she’d had to pay for storage. She figured it would get better financially once Andy’s military pay caught up with her, but that had never happened. And when those military officers showed up at her then-new apartment, she learned why.

      Time to go to bed. Tomorrow was another day. How many times had she said that of late? Tomorrow is another day. “I hate that phrase,” she mumbled to herself. Her appointment at the clinic was at ten thirty, and she wanted to be rested and show up on time. But most of all, she wanted a clear head and her eyes on the future.

      * * *

      Bella pushed her way through the turnstile, marched over to the courtesy desk, and announced her name and the time of her appointment. The receptionist used her index finger, with a four-inch sparkly fingernail that matched the sparkles in her eyebrows, to trace the day’s appointments. It took her a few seconds to locate Bella’s information.

      “Nineteenth floor. You will be seeing Dr. Candice Petre, who is in charge of that floor. Take the elevator on the left, it’s nonstop.”

      Bella was off like a rocket. She wanted to get this over and done with.

      She stepped out of the elevator to a pleasant waiting area, where a tall, extremely thin woman, dressed fashionably, with an elaborate hairdo, held out her hand to Bella. It felt warm and dry. Her voice was cheerful. “I’m Dr. Candice Petre. Tell me what can I do for you on this beautiful October day, Ms. Nolan.”

      “I want to make arrangements to transfer my . . . my eggs to another location. My husband. . . my husband passed away, and I am relocating. Tell me what I have to do on this end, or is it the new clinic that will work with you? I’m sorry to say I don’t know how this works.”

      “Perfectly understandable, and I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Nolan. Let me just bring your records up to date. Were you single or married when you contracted with us?”

      “Single. My file should be under Bella Ames. I never came back to change my maiden name to my married name.”

      “Most people do that right away,” Dr. Petre said. She sounded annoyed.

      “I’m not most people. I’m me, and I didn’t do it, and what difference does it make in the end? None, that’s how much,” Bella said, answering her own question. Almost done. Almost.

      Candice Petre looked over the rim of her glasses at Bella, and said, “But your name is Bella, correct?”

      “Yes. And my husband’s name was Andrew. Why? Is something wrong?”

      “It says you transferred your . . . property eight months ago. It says you came here with a technician and signed off on your eggs.”

      Quicker than lightning, Bella bounced up and out of her chair. “What are you talking about? I did no such thing! I haven’t been in this clinic since I had the last procedure done. That’s at least three years ago. I know for certain my husband wasn’t here, either. Did you lose my . . . Well, did you? My God, you did, didn’t you? I can see it in your expression. I don’t believe this,” Bella shrieked at the top of her lungs.

      Flustered, Dr. Petre pressed a button and, within seconds, a man and a woman in white lab coats appeared. Petre pointed to the computer screen as Bella continued screeching about fraud and calling the police. She could barely hear the introduction Petre was making. The woman in the white lab coat was Dr. Betty Donaldson, and the man was Dr. Martin Peabody.

      Dr. Donaldson whistled sharply. Bella blinked and stopped shrieking to hear the doctor say, “You need to be quiet so we can make sense of this. Please. I understand you are upset. We will straighten this out. Now, Dr. Petre, tell me what happened here.”

      “What happened here,” Dr. Candice Petre said in a voice that could have chilled milk, “is that this . . . person standing right here in front of the three of us came here this morning to make arrangements to transfer her . . . her property. The problem is that it already was transferred eight months ago. It’s all right here. Here is a copy of the release she signed and a copy of her current driver’s license. When you first came here, your driver’s license said Bella Ames. Along the way you got married and changed your driver’s license to Bella Nolan. This is a copy of the Bella Nolan license. Everything was time stamped, as you can see. We do not make mistakes here, Ms. Nolan. So, Ms. Nolan, how do you explain this? Is this your current driver’s license or not?”

      Bella stared down at a very unflattering DMV photo of her face on the license. She licked at her lips and managed to say, “Yes, that is my license and my picture, but I did not, I repeat, I did not transfer my property from this clinic. I didn’t even know my husband had died at that time. I was in no frame of mind to . . . to do something like that. This is the first time I’ve been here since I had the procedure done years ago. Do you have cameras? Of course you do. I remember them when I was here the first time. Andy and I even discussed it.

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