Deadly Sanctuary by Sylvia Nobel Read Free Book Online Page B

doorbell rang.
    “Now who could that be?” Ginger’s expression was puzzled. “It’s past nine o’clock.”
    “Bonnie,” she gasped, swinging the door wide. “What a nice surprise…” Her voice trailed off. “What’s the matter? Where’s Tom?” She pulled a heavy set woman with streaks of violet mascara staining her cheeks into the room. I remembered Bonnie was Ginger’s sister.
    “Tom’s out of town,” the woman sobbed, “but I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell y’all.” Then to my amazement she laughed, blurting out: “Ginger, it’s finally happened!”
    “What? What’s happened?”
    “God has answered our prayers. We had a meeting with that lawyer y’all recommended, and guess what? We’re getting us a baby!”
    Ginger clapped her hands. “Oh my Lord! You finally got in to see Eric Heisler.”
    That grabbed my attention. I recognized the name as the Phoenix attorney who owned the tennis ranch.
    “That’s right.” Bonnie dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “He is the most wonderful man…no, he’s more than that. He’s an absolute god.”
    More shrieking. That was followed by the two of them jumping and hugging. I met Brian’s amused glance as he shrugged. Drama seemed commonplace in this household.
    When things quieted, I told Ginger I had to go, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously private family business.
    “Oh, don’t go on my account,” Bonnie said after Ginger introduced us. “I wish I could share this news with the whole world. Let’s have us a celebration party!”
    Not wanting to spoil the festive atmosphere, I agreed. Anyway, I was curious to hear her story. We all filed into the kitchen where Brian pulled out a bottle of sparkling champagne he said had been in the refrigerator since the Carter administration.
    Glasses clinked during the noisy toast. Then Bonnie launched into her tale, recounting fifteen years of miscarriages, fertility drugs, blind leads, anguish and waiting. They’d even, she admitted, placed ads in newspapers, hoping to appeal to interested teens.
    “The turning point was Ginger talking about my problem to her boyfriend,” Bonnie said with a misty-eyed smile while squeezing Ginger’s hand. For my benefit she added, “You know, he works in the pro shop at the tennis ranch and, well, I must say, I almost fainted when Eric Heisler’s secretary called me.”
    Ginger was ecstatic. “I just asked Doug if he’d put in a good word for me.”
    Bonnie chimed in, “We didn’t know what to expect because we’d heard his fees were like astronomical, but he was so nice, and so easy to talk to. And even though he told us that he hasn’t handled too many adoption cases, he promised he’d do the best he could for us.”
    Ginger good-naturedly bawled her out for keeping her meeting a secret and I noticed Nona nodding in her chair, the empty glass still clutched in one hand.
    Bonnie looked contrite. “I was afraid to say anything. We’ve had so many failures. But when he called me today to say that he knew of a young woman expecting in June, I tell you I about busted a gut.”
    Nona started to snore, so Ginger and Brian excused themselves to help her to bed. Bonnie went on to tell me some of her experiences with adoption agencies.
    “I appreciate you sharing this with me,” I commented to her. “Being a reporter I always want to know everything about a subject and I honestly didn’t know adopting was such a ticklish business.”
    “Please don’t take this wrong, because it isn’t meant to sound biased, but it isn’t as difficult if you don’t want a white baby.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Because there’s an unbelievable shortage of ’em.”
    “Why?”
    “For one thing, the abortion laws changed everything,” she confided, pouring herself another glass of champagne. “People don’t have kids they don’t want anymore. But the most important reason of all is that over eighty percent of pregnant, unmarried teens keep their babies.”