The Surrogate, The Sudarium Trilogy - Book one Read Free Page B

contemplating a soft-boiled egg on toast. “Nothing. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”
    “Not sick, are you?”
    Ruth threw her niece a side-long glance. She prided herself on her ability to read people. She may not have gone to college and there weren’t any fancy books in the house, but she liked to think she had more than her share of “smarts.” She noticed things and could smell a fib a mile away. “Because that’s the last thing we need around here - you coming down with something!” she said. “One sick person’s enough Your uncle’s ulcer is acting up again.”
    Hannah’s mother used to say that when they were growing up, Ruth was the pretty Nadler sister, the vivacious one with all the boyfriends. It was hard to believe now. Hannah couldn’t picture her aunt as anything other than the stout, perpetually disgruntled housewife in a chenille robe, who right now was heading for the coffee maker and the jolt of caffeine that would get another disappointing day going.
    “You made the coffee already?” Ruth asked, surprised.
    “I was up.”
    “You sure nothing’s wrong with you?”
    Why was it always a crack like that, Hannah wondered. Never, “thank you,” or “what a nice thing to do.” In Ruth’s world, every deed came with an ulterior motive. People were either trying to get on her good side or they were trying to pull the wool over her eyes. Nobody just did things. They did things for a reason.
    Ruth lifted the coffee cup to her lips and took a slurp. “What time did you get home from the diner last night?”
    “Same as usual. About quarter past midnight.”
    “And you’re up at the crack of dawn?” There was that sidelong look again. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
    “Nothing, Aunt Ruth! Honest!”
    All she’d done was call Partners in Parenthood a week ago. The lady who’d answered the phone said she’d mail out some explanatory literature right away, and without thinking, Hannah had given the Ritters’ address. Later, she realized she should have had it sent to the diner, instead.
    “As long as you live under our roof and enjoy our hospitality,” Ruth never failed to remind her, “There will be no secrets in this house.”
    If the envelope from Partners in Parenthood had hearts and a baby on it, as the ad did, she’d have a lot of explaining to do. So every morning this week, Hannah had risen early to intercept the mail. So far, though, no letter.
    Girls her age were supposed to think about boyfriends and getting married some day and starting families of their own. So why had the notion of carrying a baby for a childless couple appealed so much to her imagination? All Hannah could think was that her mother had something to do with it. Her mother had been a giver, who believed people had a duty to help others less fortunate. Whenever you got bogged down in your own problems, her mother had said, it meant it was time to think of somebody else. The lesson was engraved on Hannah’s memory, although, sadly, she heard the sound of her mother’s gentle voice less clearly than she used to.
    Ruth slid a plate of hot cinnamon buns out of the oven and scrutinized them carefully before selecting the one that risked disappointing her least. “I thought you were supposed to be working the breakfast shift all this week,” she said.
    “I was, but business has fallen way off. After the holidays, everyone’s staying home, I guess.”
    “Don’t let that Teri screw you out of all the good shifts.”
    Ruth washed down the bun with the last of her coffee, then reached into the refrigerator for a carton of eggs. “I hope that uncle of yours isn’t going to sleep all morning. Tell him breakfast is on the table.”
    Grateful for the opportunity to escape from the kitchen, Hannah called up the stairs, “Uncle Herb? Aunt Ruth says breakfast’s ready.”
    A grumble came back.
    “He’s coming,” she said, relaying the message to her aunt, then glanced out the