The Perfect Father

For a long time Chase said nothing, only continued to stare at Sylvie as if she were speaking a foreign language. Finally he began again, “Are you actually saying you want me to donate my...” He glanced quickly around, cleared his throat and tried once more, his voice noticeably lower when he continued. “You want me to donate my sperm so you can be artificially inseminated with it?”

“Oh, heavens, no,” she assured him.

The fire that had flared to life in his midsection subsided some. Obviously he was misunderstanding whatever it was Sylvie was trying to say. Clearly she meant something else entirely. He only wished he could figure out what it was.

“I want you to make love to me,” she said.

“You what?”

“In two weeks. That’s when I’ll be ovulating again.”

The words didn’t register immediately with Chase. He knew what he thought he’d heard her say, of course, but he couldn’t quite believe she was saying what he thought she was saying. This time he was the one to stare down into his coffee without speaking. But his silence only seemed to inspire Sylvie, because she continued to prattle on nervously.

“Um, look, I know what you’re probably thinking about me right now. I know you must be...you know, wondering what kind of woman would ask a virtual stranger to make love to her just to get her pregnant, but—”

“Oh, we’re not really strangers,” Chase interrupted her, looking up. He fixed his gaze with hers. “Are we, Sylvie?”

She lifted one shoulder in an odd kind of shrug, but said nothing. He had never noticed how small she was, he thought. How delicate looking. She’d always seemed so strong to him, so straightforward, so unwilling to back down. He wondered how long she’d been considering him for the task at hand. And he wondered why what she was suggesting, something that should be no more than an indecent proposal, was in fact so utterly appealing.

“After all the conversations we’ve had over the last two years,” he continued, “how can you think of us as strangers? You talked me through that hostile takeover bid last summer, remember? I would have gone nuts if I hadn’t had you to confide in. And I think your advice helped me ward the bastards off better than any other I received.”

She smiled nervously. “Really?”

He nodded. “You were there for me when my dad died, too.”

“And you helped get me through the loss of my mom,” she added. “But you know what’s weird? I don’t even know your first name.”

“And I don’t know your last.”

“Venner,” she said immediately. “Sylvie Venner.”

“Chase,” he replied, extending his hand toward her. “Chase Buchanan.”

Sylvie placed her hand gingerly in his and smiled. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the two of them might just be making a deal.

* * *

It was after 2:00 a.m. when the closing bartender finally routed them from Cosmo’s. Chase walked Sylvie to her car, both of them moving slowly in spite of the below-freezing temperature, as if they had nowhere in particular to go. Downtown Philly was deserted this time of night, its chrome-and-glass high rises dark and vacant. She inhaled deeply, the scent of winter mingling with a hint of lingering bus fumes. The city seemed quieter than she knew it really was.

They had settled nothing for certain, she thought as she strode alongside him. Although she had spent much of the evening arguing her case eloquently and with forthright honesty, Chase hadn’t agreed to her request. But he hadn’t turned her down, either, she reminded herself. And he had seemed to enjoy their time together as much as she had.

When they reached her car she unlocked it, then tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She was about to pitch the book she’d been reading in her spare time in behind it, but he stayed her hand by circling her wrist with warm fingers.

“The Portable Emerson?” he asked when he saw the title, seeming not at all surprised by her choice of reading material.

Sylvie nodded. “I think Nature is one of the most wonderful series of essays ever written. I like to go back and reread it every now and then.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I love it, too.”

She smiled. “I didn’t know you were familiar with Emerson.”

“He was part of my required reading in college. I was surprised by how much I liked him.”

He released her hand, but not before skimming his fingertips lightly over the ridges of her bare knuckles. Sylvie shivered, uncertain whether it was because of his touch or the cold breeze rushing by.

“How come you never put your humanities degree to use?” he asked out of the blue.

She tossed the book in beside her purse, settled her arms on the open car door and rested her head on her overlapped hands. “I don’t know. I always meant to go for my master’s and then my Ph.D., thinking I would teach at a college level, but I just never got around to it. By the time I got my B.A., I was so sick of school I never wanted to go back. Now I’d love to go back, but I just don’t have the time. Or the funds,” she added with a philosophical shrug. “Maybe someday.”

He nodded, but his mind seemed to be on something else.

“You know, you never really gave me a definite yes or no,” she pointed out.

“No, I didn’t.”

Her heart fell. He wasn’t going to do it, she thought, surprised at the depth of her disappointment. There were others on her list, she reminded herself. She still had a good chance of finding someone. But suddenly no one else seemed suitable. Chase Buchanan was it, she decided. The perfect candidate to father her child. If he said no, she didn’t know what she would do.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand about this,” he said further.

“What’s that?”

“Why does the father of your child have to be someone you know? If you’re so determined to have a baby, then why don’t you just go the artificial insemination route? It’s worked out fine for other women.”

She nodded. “I know. And I did think about that as an alternative. I’ve heard you can virtually fill out an order form of what you expect from a donor and everything, but...”

“But what?”

She shrugged and looked away. His intense scrutiny was making her feel a little anxious. “That’s not for me. I mean, I consider myself to be a thoroughly modern woman with thoroughly modern beliefs, and I certainly wouldn’t fault any woman who chose that option. But... It’s not for me,” she repeated simply.

“Why not?”

She paused before elaborating, trying to think of the best way to make him understand. “It’s just that... I guess I’m old-fashioned in a way, too. I don’t have it in me to become impregnated while I’m lying on a metal table with my feet in stirrups and no one to share the experience but a team of experts in white coats, you know?”

He grimaced at her graphic description but said nothing.

“A baby should be conceived in a moment of affection,” she went on softly. “Even if that moment only lasts...well, a moment. There should be some kind of positive emotion shared by the two parents, even if it’s only temporary. At least, that’s how I feel about it.”

“Most people would say that the emotion involved should be a deep and abiding love that would last forever and unite the family as one,” Chase said.

“I know that,” Sylvie agreed, glancing away once more. “But I’m not convinced such an emotion exists.”

When Chase said nothing, she looked at him again and could see that he was mulling over her statement. “Not that I disagree with you, but how come you feel that way?” he finally asked.

She shook her head resolutely. “I know there are those people who believe in love forever after,” she continued. “Heck, my sister is one of the leading proponents. In fact, Livy being such a profound believer in the powers of love is probably why I’m so anxious to avoid it.”

“Why’s that?”

Sylvie hesitated before replying. Although it was true that Livy had finally found happiness with Daniel McGuane, it was also true that there was no other man in the universe like Daniel. Sylvie was certain anyway that she’d never find someone so utterly compatible with her own needs.