"Then I shall request the jury to deliberate until such time as they come to a decision." Lyang took a moment to look over some notes. "It shall be your duty to decide whether the baby named Renata shall be placed in the custody of Valerie Dalton or remain in the custody of Karen and David Chandler." She gazed at each of the jurors in turn. "Custody shall, in large part, be determined by the best interests of the child, based upon the evidence presented to you in court. In addition, there is the matter of the injunction against Dr. Evelyn Fletcher and the thirty million dollars in damages. Your decision in this matter must be based upon the question of fraud or criminal intent as answered by the evidence presented in this court." She glanced at Valerie with a professional lack of emotion. "Please keep in mind the unusual nature of the final witness's testimony." She flipped open a book to read the jurors a lengthy set of instructions. Each of the six took extensive notes. These were their guidelines, the rules by which they would render their verdict.
When Lyang finished reading, the clerk strode over to the jury box to open the railing. One by one, the six jurors sol-emnly stepped through the door in the rear of the courtroom. When they were out of the room and the door closed with a heavy sound, Lyang took a deep breath and settled back in her chair.
"This should be quick," Johnson murmured happily to Fletcher. "She just about handed them a directed verdict."
"I'd pop out for a smoke," Evelyn whispered, "but I don't want to miss this." After five minutes passed, Valerie leaned over to Johnson. "How long does this usually take?" He shrugged. "I've observed trials where juries walk in and turn right around again."
"What's taking them so long?" Karen asked.
"They probably wanted some coffee." Johnson turned his attention to his notes. He sorted them, numbered pages, as-signed sheets to various manilla folders. Karen and David whispered something between themselves while Fletcher leaned back along the bar.
"So what do you think, Ian?" she casually whispered to Dr. Brunner. Her heart raced at a pace fueled by her brash at-tempt to bridge a years-long gap in conversation.
"I think you're in a frightening amount of hot water outside this courtroom," he whispered back, folding his arms on the rail. "Even if they granted you custody of the kid, it won't mean a thing to Bumqua."
She nodded casually. "Yes, I know I'm washed up here. Think there'll be any interest in transoption research outside the U.S.?"
Brunner's expression softened. "What floors me," he whis-pered, "is that my office has registered over one hundred calls this last week. All of them from women who want to get hooked up with a recipient for their embryos."
Fletcher jerked her head around to stare at him in utter shock. "What?" Judge Lyang glowered down at them.
Brunner nodded. "I seriously think you've tapped into some sort of zeitgeist." He circled his finger around to indicate the room. "The State may not be ready for transoption, and the Christians and the feminists may not be ready, but the preg-nant women are."
Fletcher laid a hand on his sleeve. "Listen, if you need my notes or a working model of the suction-"
"Forget it," he said. His voice revealed a mixture of regret and fear. "Transoption is going to have the status illegal abor-tions had for the last century. And that's probably how they'll be performed for years to come. In the counter-economy. I'm a reputable researcher." He paused, then leaned closer, his voice dropping nearly to the limit of audibility. "I've submitted a carefully worded request for animal-research funds, though. I've got a protege who's keen to start a legitimate, peer-re-viewed project."
"That's great," she whispered. An ancient wall between them had crumbled. Brunner shook his head. "A lot will depend on what the jury has to say." He pointed to his Breitling watch. "Doesn't look good."
Fletcher leaned over to Johnson. "It's been fifteen minutes. What's going on?" Damned if I know. "I think they may be dotting is and cross-ing ts." He was unable, though, to hide the concern on his face.
"Are we sunk?" she asked.
Judge Lyang cleared her throat. "The jury seems to be tak-ing their time, so court will recess until a verdict is delivered." The gavel rapped once.
Reporters assumed their positions outside the courtroom. Most of the questions Johnson fended off concerned the fate of the trial and any insight he might have into the minds of the jurors.
"I have no idea what they're thinking," he said. "There can be only one verdict for them to reach. All we have to do is wait."
After a long lunch in the cafeteria, Johnson left to spend a few minutes with the court clerk. He returned with a crest-fallen expression.
"He said the jury's informed Lyang that they won't have a verdict today. He's told the rest of us to go home and return tomorrow."
"That's bad, isn't it?" Valerie asked.
Johnson nodded. "All they had to do was grant the verdict for us. I'm afraid they've found some reason to grant you cus-tody."
Valerie frowned. "Can't I say no?"
"Sure," Terry said. "But I was trying for the legal precedent. Future courts won't care what you decided on your own." He looked around at the others. "We might as well go." Karen patted his back. "We're sorry," she said.
"Thanks," he replied, thinking, But sorry doesn't change the law books.
XXII
Valerie returned to an empty home. The lights on the Phone-Mate indicated thirty-four messages awaiting her attention. She ignored it. The only sound drifted in from outside, where TV vans camped and reporters hovered like gulls around a trawler.
She flopped down on the bed, which had not been made from the night before. A glowing red eye glared at her be-neath the TV. The VCR. Ron had set it to record the local news at five every day. Picking up the remote, she flicked on the TV, ran the tape back until she found a story about the case, and played it.
The male newscaster made a somber face. Superimposed behind him was the familiar scale with a baby in one pan, scalpel in the other. "The saga of Baby Renata continues with a surprising turnabout." The image cut to a shot of Valerie on the witness stand.
"The plaintiff in the landmark custody battle, Valerie Dalton, today dismissed her attorney and took the stand as a witness for the people she was suing. Her testimony took a dramatic turn when she discussed the bone marrow she'd donated to the infant."
"This," she watched herself say as the woman on the screen opened her blouse, "this is how much I love her." There was a distinct break in the image to edit in a later shot. "Think about all the others that could be saved. They're waiting out there. They're dying right now while other women struggle desperately to become pregnant." Another splice. "We just have to let them know the technique exists and then stand back."
Valerie recalled very little of her testimony. It was as if she were hearing it for the first time. Something about hearing her words on television brought her out of her own constricted world. For nearly a month her focus had been upon Valerie Dalton and how others had wronged her. Eight months ago, her thoughts had centered around Valerie Dalton and how pregnancy would interfere with her life. She lay atop the rumpled covers and stared at the TV. There are millions of Valeries out there, she thought. How can I help them?
She shook her head. I'm only one person. She gazed up at the ceiling. A paint chip there reminded her of the tiny stain on the ceiling of the operating room. All the events of the last few months came back to her in a sudden rush of awareness.
Dr. Fletcher was only one person, she realized. She saved only one life and changed the lives of everyone forever.