A Singular Witness

Secrets

Toby sat across from Cass at the breakfast table, the morning sun peeking in through curtains that lifted gently on the breeze circulating from the ceiling fan.  Toby would respond when Cass spoke to him, but avoided making direct eye contact.

Cass studied Toby's face, the smooth features, full lips, and high cheekbones that framed his deep-set dark eyes.  She had a gnawing sense that though she was seeing the same face from days before, it had somehow changed.

In the next moment she caught a flickering glimpse of his profile, and the set of his jaw made plain the difference.  His face had become harder, a revelation that was unsettling.

"Something is wrong."  The words sounded abrupt to Cass as she spoke them.

Toby paused, raising an eyebrow in the same motion.  "What?"  He asked.

"You seem upset...or something."  She asked, "Has anything happened?"

"What could have happened?"  His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he posed the question.

"Have you heard from Quinn?"  Cass studied him uncertainly.

"I have not."  He said flatly.

"Is that okay with you?"  She asked quietly.

"I suppose it has to be."

Cass gave him a pained look.  "Toby, there is something you are not telling me."

His eyes held hers, and widened in tandem with the slowing of his breath.  His breakfast lay mostly untouched on the table in front of him.

"Surely there are things you haven't told me?"  He asked, his voice tight.

"Cass looked confused.  "What things?"  She said slowly.

"Is what you've told me about my parents really all there is to the story?  You and my mother were friends.  She died, and then my father dropped me off with you and disappeared.  That's it?"  His cheeks were mottled with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"I feel like an idiot," he mumbled.

"I don't understand."  Cass said, her voice faltering.

"Don't you?"  Toby seethed, "Then you're a saint."

Cass blinked slowly to avoid transferring the wetness in her eyes to her cheeks.  "I'll wager I've loved you as much as any parent ever loved their child, but you're right that there's more to the story; there always is.  I also love you like a sinner loves their penance."

"What are you talking about?"  Toby asked, uncertainty fracturing the hardness in his voice for the first time.

"I told you I'd recently been pregnant when I met your mother," Cass said in a hushed tone.

"Toby nodded slowly.

Cass's eyes grew distant.  "That was the last baby I ever carried for anyone."

"Was it me?"  Toby asked, leaning in closer over the table.

"What?  No."  Cass looked momentarily confused.  "Like I said, your mother was pregnant with you when we met."

Toby pursed his lips.  "But you are listed as my mother on my birth certificate.  You also told me that."

"I can assure you that your own mother carried you."  She said quietly.

When she stayed silent Toby prodded her, "You said I was some sort of penance."

The haunted look returned to her face as she whispered, "I never even told your mother what I had done.  I wanted so badly to be someone other than who I had been, and with her I was.  Your mother was the best friend I ever had."

"What did you do then, and what does it have to do with me?"  Toby asked.

Cass ran the tip of her long slender finger around the rim of her coffee mug.  "I was a surrogate for a family before your mother and I met.  The woman, like your mother, had tried to get pregnant for years.  She finally decided to contract a surrogate, and that's how I came in the picture.  The general terms of my contract were that I would be paid at conception, and again at both three and six months into the pregnancy, with a final installment due at delivery.  I was paid for the conception.  The couple was wealthy and established in the community.  When I was about three months along, I didn't really think much of it when they told me some story about wanting to wait to pay me the three-month fee with a bonus at the time they paid for six months.  It seemed odd though, and over the course of the next several weeks I got unsettled, so I started doing some research."

Toby lowered his eyes to divert his gaze from the desperation he saw in Cass's expression.

Cass continued, "I found out that the husband's company had gone bankrupt just weeks before.  I was angry and afraid.  I tried calling the couple, and left several messages.  When I did not get a response over the course of the next few days, I terminated the pregnancy.  I was a little under four months along when I had the abortion."

Toby considered this and said, "Did they find out?"

An agonized expression came over her face.  "It turned out they'd avoided my calls because they were travelling around to various friends and relatives, trying to borrow the funds to finance the remainder of the pregnancy.  They sounded so relieved when they told me they'd come up with the money...." Her voice trailed off.

"What did they do?"  He asked hesitantly.

A single tear slid down her cheek.  "There was a news story a little while later.  They reported that a local executive who had gone bankrupt, and his wife got drunk together in his luxury car while it was parked and running in their closed garage.  In the same space of time a family might spend on vacation, I went from feeling like the victim of a bad business deal, to having the blood of a whole family on my hands."

Toby's face softened.

"It was a misunderstanding."  He said gently.  "Human history offers several precedents for how fatal misunderstandings can be."

Cass cringed.  "It also offers a few lessons about how hard it is to get blood off your hands."

"I'm sorry."  Toby said softly.

Cass looked up at him.  "You don't have anything to apologize for."

"I made you remember."  He said. "It was just that I was sure you knew something about my own birth that you'd kept from me."

Cass looked mystified.  "What do you mean?"

Toby blinked, and it was as if a screen lowered over the source of whatever fueled his earlier temper.  "Only that I misjudged."  He said.

He rose and carried his dishes over to the sink while Cass watched him, bewildered.