Life Blood---XXIII---Page No 77

ouch—his eyes on the ultrasound scan, which indicated the precise location of the needle's tip.

I watched as the screen showed the needle on its way to its destination, a thin, hard line amidst the pulsing gray mass of her uterus. Seconds later all three embryos had been implanted with such flawless precision it was scary.

Did I want to undergo this deeply invasive procedure at the
hands of Alex Goddard? The very thought left a dull ache in my
stomach.

While Marcelina bandaged her and began preparing her for return to wherever she'd been, he turned off the systems, then closed their "stone" cabinets.

I thought back to some of the "hallucinations" Sarah had

poured out. She'd mentioned the green mask, and she'd also

relived some sinister event that seemed to her like disappearing down a long white tunnel. Was that her own anesthesia? Did he perform an in vitro on her too?

I jumped as I heard the "bump, thump, bump" sound of the

operating table being rolled out of the OR and back down the hall. For some reason I thought of the sound of fate knocking on the door, like death coming to take Don Giovanni. Did Alex Goddard have plans to take me, only with drugs and medical sleight of
hand? It wasn't going to happen.

I switched off the monitor and turned to stare at the

computers. Why were they here in this "place of miracles"? What did they hold? Maybe that was where I should be. . .
        That was the moment when the heavy office door swung open
and Marcelina appeared.

"Your room is ready now." Her English was heavily accented but sure. "He sent me to show you. And I can wash any of your things if you like."

My room? Whoa! Since when had I checked in?

"Marcelina, we need to talk. What happened to Sarah the last
time she was here? Was she operated on like that woman just
now?"

I also planned to ask her about all the bizarre trappings

surrounding the procedure. Why was the woman so sucked in by
his phony Mardi Gras mysticism? Had Sarah fallen for it too?
        "Sara was one of the special ones. You are surely blessed
too. You resemble her a lot." She looked at me, affection in her
dark eyes, then turned and headed out the door. "But come, let
me take you up."

Of course I resembled her; she was my cousin. But so what? I
didn't like the odd way she'd said it. And what about my question?
        Watching her walk away, clearly nervous, I realized this was
the moment I'd been dreading—when I had to make a decision
about how far to play along with Alex Goddard. Steve couldn't be
reached, yet, but I still might be able to handle the situation on my
own. The first thing to do was to get down to Sarah and talk some
sense into her. Then I had to arrange for a way to get us both out.
        So . . . probably the best way to accomplish that was to go
along with my own medical charade for a few more hours, to give
me time to scout the scene and come up with a plan. A room
would be a base to operate from.

Still, I was feeling plenty of trepidation as we ascended the marble steps to the second floor, which had a long, carpeted
hallway with doors along each side. Then, when we started down the hall, I caught the sound of a baby crying.

"What's this floor for?" I remembered Alex Goddard had claimed it was to provide a postpartum bonding period, but I wanted to confirm that with my own eyes.

"This is the recovery ward and nursery. Here, let me show

you." She paused and pushed open the door nearest us. I looked
in to see a Mayan woman resting on a high hospital bed and
wearing a white shift, with an ornate wicker cradle, wide and
deep, next to her.

Marcelina smiled and said something to her that sounded like
an apology for the intrusion. The room was lit only by candles, but
I did make out how oddly the woman stared at me, as though she
was seeing a spirit. Why was that? Because I was a gringa here
in the middle of the forest? But it seemed something more.

"The birth of a child is a sacred thing for us." Marcelina was discreetly closing the door again. "When a woman carries a child she will take walks to the milpas, to the river, to the orchards, just so her little one can be in its world. Then, after her baby is born, our tradition holds that she should be alone with it for a week and a day. So their life's breath can become one."

I could sense her heart was deeply entwined with the people here at Baalum.

"Marcelina, how long have—?"

"Well, what do you think?" said a voice. I looked around to

see Alex Goddard coming up the stairs behind us. And my anger
welled up again. Everything about him was just too . . .
manipulating.