"Tuttle, Lisa - A Cold Dish" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuttle Lisa)

I ran a search on the name Chelsea Mott. I was astonished at the number of links that came up, but even more astonished by the connections they made.

I sat and stared at my computer screen, feeling as if all the breath in my body had gone sighing out.

Chelsea Mott was a law student. Two years ago she had worked as a summer intern for Judge Arnold Jason. She'd worked for him from June through August. In October she'd gone in for a pregnancy removal. Significantly, although she was at law school in another state, she'd come back hereЧthe home State of Judge Arnold JasonЧfor the removal.

My revenge had just been handed me on a plate.




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When I arrived at the hospital, in the early stages of labor, a lawyer was waiting with papers for me to sign.

CarmenЧI'd asked her to come along as my doula, to help me through the pain, and to run interferenceЧtold her to get lost.

"It's only to make things easier," the lawyer explained with a kindly smile. "So they can take the baby away as soon asЧ"

"Nobody's taking my baby," I objected. "I'm keeping herЧor him."

"But you can't! It's all arrangedЧthe parents are here."

Someone at the hospital must have called them as soon as I'd phoned to say I was on my way. Before I could respond, another contraction made me gasp and double over.

"Get out," Carmen told the lawyer. "Or I'll have somebody throw you out."

"I'll be back," the lawyer promised.

And, of course, she was. But she couldn't make me sign her papersЧnobody could. And without my agreement, no one could adopt my baby. I had given birth to him, and he was mine, according to both natural justice and the law. At least he was more mine than anyone else's, besides Chelsea Mott, and it wasn't Ms. Mott who was trying to take him away from me.

Carmen saw Judge Arnold Jason and his wife conferring with the lawyer on the very steps of the hospital. That was the deciding moment for her. Up until then, I think she'd thought I was paranoid about Judge Jason, and that it was my "criminal mind-set" keeping me from accepting the fairness of the punishment he'd disinterestedly inflicted.

But if he wanted the baby I carried, how disinterested could he be?

Most women go home with their babies within twenty-four hours of giving birth, if there are no complications. In my case, the hospital wasn't willing to let my baby go. I knew there must be pressure on them from behind the scenes, because there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. They were eager enough for me to get out; but I wouldn't let them separate me from my baby. I could see perfectly well that possession, which had worked in my favor until now, could be made to work for someone else.

These early days were crucial, especially if the adoptive parents wanted their name on the birth certificate.

I toyed with the lawyer, who was eager to believe I could be bought. When I told her that I wanted to meet the potential adoptive parents first, before I made up my mind, we both knew her protest was just for show.

He wouldn't come, and she didn't want me to know her name. But I knew. Mrs.-Judge was not a publicity hound, but there were photos of her to be found on the web, anyway: on her husband's arm at a charity ball, or snapped, face bleached and startled by the flashbulb, in a restaurant. In life, she looked older than I'd expected, maybe because her husband looked so young.

"Did you want to ask me questions?" she asked, getting straight down to business as she came in. "We'll give the baby a good home, a wonderful life, so much love.Е" she darted a longing glance at my little babyЧstill unnamed, except in my headЧin his clear plastic hospital bed.

"Why do you want this baby?" I asked.

She looked startled by my question, but her halting reply seemed utterly innocent. This was the baby they'd been told they could have, that was all. And they'd been waiting for months, ever since they'd been told.Е It was just too hard to be let down now.

"So there's nothing special about my baby?"