Fertile Ground (47 page)

“Me, too,” she whispered back.

“You’re shivering. No second thoughts, I hope?” He caressed her shoulders.

“It’s Andy,” she said in a voice she could barely hear herself.

He tightened his grip. “You’re not going to back out now, are you?” She didn’t answer. She placed her hands on top of his.

“You have to do it, Paula. Otherwise everything was for nothing. Chelsea, Ted.” He sounded anxious and a little angry.

She still didn’t respond. “It’s the only way you’ll get the money. We talked about this, Paula. It didn’t bother you at the time.”

“I’m not the woman I was then,” she drawled, and she could tell from the quick intake of his breath that he recognized her voice. A thrill of fear mixed with satisfaction coursed through her.

She turned slowly. He stared at her, then stepped back.

“Hello, Matthew.” She smiled. “You’re looking handsome as always. A little pale, though.”

He swallowed hard. “Your hair,” he managed to say.

“It’s a wig.” She pulled it off and walked to the bed, where she put it down. She shook her blond hair. “I borrowed it from Naomi Hoffman. You know Naomi—she’s

the one you chose to be the recipient of Chelsea’s eggs. Why did you choose her, by the way? Because I mentioned that she inspired me to become Orthodox again? Having a little fun, were you?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “How did you find me?”

“Paula told the police. They’re coming down here tomorrow to arrest you, but I had to see you first, alone. They’ll be very angry when they find out, but I don’t care.”

“Lisa—”

“I didn’t believe Paula when she said you were alive. The police didn’t believe her, either, at first. Can you imagine how I felt, Matthew? Can you?” It was hard to keep from yelling, but she did.

“I couldn’t tell you. You don’t understand.”

“I borrowed this nightgown and robe from Paula—she said it’s your favorite set. And the Giorgio. She says you like that, too. Do you like the new me, Matthew? Paula said you found the old me pathetically boring and lousy in bed. I have to tell you, that hurt.” She’d thought over and over about every time she’d been with Matthew, searching for some sign, some clue. She’d found none, but she’d still felt naive, stupid. Knowing that he’d fooled everyone else—Sam, Selena, Edmond—offered little consolation.

“I love you. Lisa,” he said, his voice husky with urgency. “Paula’s a liar. You have to believe me.”

“That’s what I thought at first, too. Not Matthew, I told her. He’d never cheat on me. I thought she was just trying to get back at me for having her arrested. Did I mention she’s in jail? She’s being indicted for murder.”

“Thank God!” He expelled a breath. “Paula is evil, Lisa. She killed Chelsea and threatened to kill you unless I did everything she said. She killed Ted, too, when he blackmailed her.”

Lisa frowned. “You weren’t involved in any of this?”

“Of course not! She’s obsessed with me. Lisa. She planned everything! She said I had to leave the country, and she booked my tickets in her dead husband’s name.

She gave me his driver’s license for identification. She made me put the money in your pantry. She told me where to leave the car. She made me cut myself so she could put blood in the trunk. I’ve been living in fear for my life, and for yours.” He took a tentative step closer.

Lisa tilted her head and gazed at him, her forehead furrowed. “The police found a gun packed in a tin inside her suitcase,” she said quietly.

“You see? She was planning to come here and kill me, because I could expose her. She almost killed you twice. She hates you because she knows I love you. She attacked you in the clinic. The other time she tried running you down. She gloated when she told me about it. She’s ruthless, Lisa.”

“You brought champagne, Matthew. To celebrate, you said.” Her lips quivered.

He lifted his hands. “I wanted her to think I was on her side. I was acting. Lisa.”

“What about her baby? A minute ago you were encouraging her to kill him. “It’s the only way you’ll get the money.” Those were your words. Were you acting then, too?”

“I thought she was testing me.” He sighed. “She’s done it before. She’s always playing games. I wanted to find out the details so I could notify the police anonymously, so they could save Andy. I’ve dedicated my life to helping women conceive—do you honestly think I’d condone taking a child’s life?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to think. I’m confused, Matthew. I came here so angry. I loved you so much,” she whispered. “When I thought you were dead…”

“Of course you were angry,” he said softly. “I hated putting you through that. But now you know the truth.” He took another step closer. “Thank God you’re all right, Lisa. That’s all I care about. I never thought I’d see you again.” He pulled her close and stroked her hair.

She rested her head against his chest. “You hoped I’d find the paper in your trash, right? You wanted me to read the “Notes’ file. You

knew I’d figure out the pass word. But you didn’t write the truth in it.”

“Paula dictated what to write. She knew you’d try to find me. She wanted to lead you and the police in the wrong direction. It was her idea to write about the research, about Chelsea going to another clinic.”

“So you lied to me?” Lisa asked quietly.

“I told you—she said she’d kill you if I didn’t do everything exactly the way she wanted it.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police, Matthew?”

“I couldn’t! Her brother, Jerome, convinced me to give patients donor eggs without their knowledge to boost the IVF success rates. I was desperate to keep the clinic going, so I went along with it. Paula said if I went to the police, Jerome would talk. I panicked—I couldn’t face going to jail. I’m not proud of what I did. Lisa. I hope you can forgive me.”

She searched his face for a moment, then drew her hand back and smacked him hard across his cheek. “That’s for letting me think you were dead and making my life hell for the past few weeks.”

He blinked. “Lisa, for God’s sake—”

“You and Paula must’ve had a good laugh when you wrote the “Notes’ file. Little Lisa is smart, but not smart enough—is that what you figured? Jerome is in custody, Matthew. And Grace talked to the police. She told them everything.”

The nurse, Barone had informed Lisa, hadn’t been completely truthful with her. When Chelsea was killed, Matthew had confronted Grace and told her he knew she’d revealed Paula’s identity to Chelsea. He’d said that he feared for his life, that she should be afraid, too, because Paula had millions of dollars and endless resources and would stop at nothing to protect herself. And Grace had believed him, especially after he disappeared and the police found blood in his car.

“I was trying to protect Grace! Paula kept wanting to know how Chelsea found her—I knew if I told her about Grace, she’d kill her. So I frightened Grace and told Paula that Chelsea probably accessed the computer file. You have to believe me.” He grabbed Lisa’s shoulders.

She took pleasure from the fact that his face was bright red where she’d slapped him. “No, I don’t, Matthew. You can tell your story to the police when they come tomorrow. But you won’t be here tomorrow, will you?” She sighed. “You’ll disappear and no one will find you.”

He studied her face. “That’s why you came here alone, before the police. To warn me. You still love me, don’t you. Lisa? Admit it,” he said softly. Smiling, he leaned forward to kiss her.

She stepped back and turned, facing the balcony. “I’d leave the champagne, but it isn’t kosher,” he said. She folded her arms across her chest and watched his reflection in the sparkling glass of the French door as he crossed the room and opened the door to the hall. Barone was waiting, just as they’d planned.

The social hall was crowded with round tables, many of them already occupied. Sam made his way across the room to the men’s side while Lisa looked around, trying to decide where to sit. She heard her name and turned.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Naomi said, coming closer. She looked slim in a two-piece teal cotton pique suit. “I’d love to have you sit with me and the family.”

“That’s not necessary, Naomi. I can find a seat.”

“I insist.” She smiled warmly and touched Lisa’s arm. “If it weren’t for you, we might not be having this sim cha,” she said, using the Hebrew word for “joyous occasion.”

“All right.” Lisa smiled shyly in return. “You look wonderful, by the way. I see you’ve lost all your weight.” “Just about. I can hardly believe Reuben and Aliza are a month old, that three weeks have passed since his bris.”

Even though Reuben was premature, his circumcision had taken place on time, when he was eight days old, on a Thursday morning. Lisa had attended the ceremony in Rabbi Hoffman’s small storefront shul on Beverly Boulevard and Ogden. That same morning Baruch had celebrated the twins’ arrival with a large breakfast prepared

by Baruch and Naomi’s family and friends. “We named our daughter for you,” he’d told Lisa.

Lisa had been touched then; she was touched again now. “Where are the babies?”

“In the stroller. My mom’s watching them and whispering to Reuben, getting him ready for the big event.”

Today was the pidyon hifben, the redemption of the firstborn male child that took place when the infant was thirty-one days old. Lisa had been to a pidyon ha ben before—two of her high school classmates had given birth to firstborn males—but that had been long ago, and she’d forgotten the details of the ritual ceremony. She remembered that the baby’s father redeemed his infant son by paying the equivalent of five pieces of silver to a Kohen, a direct descendant of the priestly family that began with Aaron, the brother of Moses. And that, following the ceremony, everyone present rejoiced in a festive meal.

Naomi introduced Lisa to the family—her two grandmothers, a younger sister, several cousins. Naomi’s mother-in-law and mother welcomed Lisa warmly.

“So nice to see you again. Dr. Brockman.” Naomi’s mother said. “God willing, we’ll meet only at simchas.” She pointed proudly at her granddaughter and grandson, who were half dozing in a double stroller. Both infants were dressed in beautiful white knit outfits with embroidered collars.

Baruch came to the table. He greeted Lisa warmly, too, and she wished him mazel tov, feeling a kernel of residual embarrassment at the fact that she’d suspected him of murder.

“We’re ready,” he told Naomi, his voice filled with tenderness. He was beaming.

In the center of the table, on a silver tray, lay a white Battenberg-lace-covered pillow. Naomi carefully lifted Reuben from the stroller and placed him on the pillow. He whimpered; she inserted a pacifier in his mouth and stroked his cheek.

Naomi’s mother removed her cocktail ring and a strand of pearls and placed both on the pillow, next to Reuben. The grandmothers, sister,

and cousins followed suit, adding rings, brooches, a necklace of onyx-and-silver beads, a gold watch. Women from the other tables joined in the ritual, and within minutes Reuben was laden with jewels.

The reason behind bedecking the infant with jewelry, Lisa’s father had explained to her a long time ago, was to show love for the mitzvah, the biblical commandment. Her mother had added that the jewels enhanced the value of the child in the father’s eyes. Not that Baruch needed any help to realize the value of his tiny son or daughter.

Lisa watched as Naomi, flanked by her mother-in-law and by her mother, who was holding her granddaughter, carried the tray with Reuben and his finery to her father, who then passed it to her father-in-law. Rabbi Hoffman set the tray on a table in front of Baruch and a clean shaven man Lisa assumed was the Kohen. Lisa, with the other women, followed along; soon they were all crowded around the new father and the priest, who were now standing.

Baruch was holding his son. “This is my firstborn son,” he declared, his voice husky with emotion. “He is the first issue of his mother’s womb, and the Holy One, Blessed is He, has commanded to redeem him….”

From across the room Sam caught Lisa’s eye and smiled. She smiled back. If she married him and their first child was a boy, he’d told her on the way here, they would have a pidyon ha hen too. “Even though I’m a convert?” she’d asked. “Even though,” he’d said softly, and she’d felt a flutter of joy.

The Kohen asked, “Which do you prefer: to give away your firstborn son, who is the first issue of his mother’s womb, or do you prefer to redeem him for five shekels as you are required to do by the Torah?”

What if the father chose not to redeem his son? she remembered asking her own father. She remembered his answer: that redeeming the son wasn’t really optional;

that even if the father didn’t pay the five shekels, the child didn’t belong to the Kohen. So why did the Kohen ask the question? she’d pressed. To increase the father’s love for his son and the mitzvah of redeeming him. Lisa’s father had explained.

Ever since she’d returned from Mexico, Lisa felt as though she, too, had been redeemed. Barone had refused at first to let her go, but she’d worn him out with her arguments—that it wouldn’t be dangerous, that she’d earned the right to confront Matthew, that she needed to reclaim her dignity, her pride.

Baruch said, “I wish to redeem my son. I present you with the cost of his redemption as I am required to do by the Torah.” Holding five silver dollars, he recited the blessing for the redemption, then another, more general blessing. There were tears in his eyes.

Lisa joined the others and said, “Amen.” This evening she’d read in an Art Scroll prayer book the teaching behind this ritual: “Though firstborn children are the culmination of much yearning, labor, and sacrifice, and it is human nature to want them for oneself, the Torah wants man to recognize that the child is a gift from God.”

She thought about Naomi and Baruch and the countless other couples she’d treated who had incurred enormous debts and suffered great emotional distress to have a child. She thought about Paula Rhodes and could not comprehend that a mother would kill her child for money.

Paula was in jail, waiting to be tried for murder. So was Matthew. Both had accused each other of carrying out the murders.