The Surrogate Wife novel · Chapter 1 of 16
Chapter 1: You've Done Your Job
Lillian finds Peter's signed divorce papers and Elaine tells her the boys don't need her anymore; she makes one phone call and learns her old seat is still waiting.
I gave my husband's family three sons in five years.
On a Thursday in October, I found out that was all they had wanted from me.
The papers were in Peter's desk drawer, under his golf scores.
His signature was already on the last page.
It was dated two weeks earlier.
But the morning started the way every morning did.
I was up at five, making three breakfasts.
Pancakes for Ethan, because he's five and refuses anything else.
Grapes cut in quarters for Lucas, because he's three and swallows things whole.
Mashed pear for Noah, because he's fourteen months old and cutting two molars.
Elaine sat at the head of the table with her tea.
My mother-in-law had lived with us since her husband died.
She had never made a meal in this kitchen.
She had never wiped a single bottom.
She had an opinion on everything I did.
"Those pancakes are swimming in syrup," she said. "Are you trying to rot his teeth out?"
I didn't answer.
Answering only made the day longer.
Peter came down knotting his tie.
He kissed his mother's cheek.
He rubbed Ethan's head.
He walked around me to get to the coffee.
"Peter, Noah's appointment is at ten. Can you meet us there?"
"I've got a meeting."
"It's been moved three times. He's behind on his shots."
"So take him. What do you need me for?"
Elaine smiled into her cup.
After he left, I did the dishes.
I dropped Ethan at school and Lucas at playgroup.
I held Noah alone while the nurse gave him two needles and he screamed into my neck.
At home I needed his insurance card, and Peter kept it in his study.
That was when I opened the drawer.
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.
I read every page standing up.
He wanted the house.
He wanted sole custody of Ethan, Lucas and Noah.
He was offering me nothing at all.
Not support. Not a dollar.
Under the reason for divorce, someone had typed that the marriage was broken beyond repair.
My hands were steady.
I hadn't expected that.
Heels came across the hardwood behind me.
Elaine leaned in the doorway with her arms folded.
"So you found them."
She didn't sound surprised.
"I told him to keep them somewhere better. But I'm glad. It saves us a conversation."
"What conversation?"
"About the handover. The new nanny starts Monday. You'll want the weekend to pack."
She said the job was done.
"They're my children, Elaine."
She laughed at me.
It was a real laugh, with her head back.
"Your children? You were pouring coffee at a diner when my son found you. The house, the school, the name. That's all Peter. Show me a judge who hands three boys to a woman with nothing."
I looked at the last page again.
Sole custody to the father.
"You planned this before the wedding."
She tipped her head to the side.
"You were young and healthy and you had good bones. That was the whole list. Three grandsons. Honestly, you did better than I expected. I thought it would take you four tries."
Something hot climbed up my throat.
It wasn't grief.
Upstairs, Noah woke from his nap crying.
I turned toward the stairs.
Elaine stepped into the doorway and filled it.
"Leave him. The nanny will handle that."
"The nanny isn't here."
"Then he'll cry. Babies cry. Sit down, Lillian. We'll talk like grown women."
My son was screaming up there.
This woman stood between us, and she was smiling.
I put my hand on her shoulder and moved her aside.
I didn't shove her.
I moved her the way you'd move a coat on a hook.
"Don't you dare put your hands on me," she said.
I went up the stairs and lifted Noah out of the crib.
His face was red and soaked.
He grabbed my collar with both fists and went quiet.
When I came back down, Elaine was sitting at Peter's desk.
The papers were squared in front of her.
I sat across from her with Noah on my lap.
I folded my hands over his belly.
"Fine," I said. "Let's talk."
She tapped the pages with one nail.
"You sign by Monday. You take your clothes. You get Sundays with the boys, supervised, at my discretion."
"And if I don't sign?"
"Then Peter's lawyer tells a judge you're an unemployed waitress with no family and no money. You'll get less than Sundays."
Peter walked in behind me at six.
He saw the papers and didn't even stop.
"Good. Mom said you'd be reasonable."
"Did you ever love me?"
He loosened his tie and looked at his mother before he answered.
"I married you. Isn't that enough?"
Elaine didn't know what Peter didn't know.
What nobody in this house had ever bothered to ask.
I had never lied about my name.
They just never typed it into anything.
That night, after all three boys were asleep, I stood in the laundry room with the door shut.
I dialed a number I hadn't called in six years.
It rang twice.
"Lowell."
"Harriet. It's Lillian Thurston."
There was a long silence.
"Is my seat on the bench still open?"
I heard her set something down.
"It's been waiting for you, Judge Thurston."
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