The Cowboy's Family Plan. Judy Duarte

and tea, as well as various waters, energy drinks, fruit juices and smoothies. They also provided nutritious snacks for people on the run.

      While Dr. Ramirez carried her cup of coffee to one of several tables set out for those people who had more time on their hands, Alex paid with a twenty, then joined her.

      “Thanks for giving me a few minutes of your time,” he said as he took a seat next to hers.

      “No problem.”

      “You’re probably wondering why I signed up for your class,” Alex said, his hands braced around the disposable cup.

      “When I first spotted you sitting alone in the front row, I thought you might be a reporter,” she said.

      “I’m afraid not. I actually came to learn more about the topic you’ll address during week three.”

      “Surrogacy?”

      He nodded, then lifted his cup and took a sip. “My late wife and I had planned to have children through in vitro fertilization. We’d gotten through the fertilization process. And after the first attempt at implantation failed, we finally managed to get pregnant, but...” He paused for a moment, then glanced down at the coffee in his cup, while he relived the phone call he’d received from the sheriff’s office, telling him that Mary had been involved in a car accident, that she was being rushed to the Brighton Valley Medical Center E.R., that she...might not make it.

      “But...?” the doctor prodded.

      Alex sucked it up, the memory, the grief, the guilt, the promise he was determined to keep. “My wife died when she was twenty weeks pregnant.”

      “I’m sorry.” The softness in the doctor’s voice, the light cadence of her accent, provided an unexpected balm to feelings that were still raw at times.

      It seemed surreal now, like a bad dream. But he gave a half shrug, as if that was all there was to it, when, in truth, it was all too complicated to explain.

      “So how can I help?” she asked, the sincerity in her tone, the sympathy in her eyes making him wonder if she just might hold the key to everything.

      So he took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “I still have two embryos left, and I want to hire a surrogate to carry them. But I need to learn more about the process—the pitfalls, that sort of thing. I’ll be looking for someone healthy and of sound mind. I also want to feel completely assured that whoever I choose won’t have a change of heart after the implantation. You know what I mean?”

      “Absolutely. Your concerns are all valid, and you’re wise to learn all you can before making any decisions.”

      “So how do I go about finding the right surrogate?”

      “What you’re actually looking for is a gestational carrier because you don’t need a woman to donate any of her eggs. Of course, with only two remaining embryos, you’ll have only one shot at implanting them.”

      “If it doesn’t work, I’ll deal with it.” He wasn’t interested in going through the whole process again, unless he needed to down the line. But then again, the first go-round had been way too clinical for him to ever want to go through it again.

      The doctor nodded, as if she understood.

      “So where do I start?” he asked.

      “You can, of course, try to find someone on your own. Oftentimes a friend or a family member will help. But there are also several reputable agencies, most of which are based in Houston, that can help you. I’d planned to give a list of them to the class during the third week, but if you’ll be here next Tuesday, I can give you one then.”

      “That would be great.” He tossed her a warm, appreciative grin, glad he’d come tonight, glad he’d asked her to have coffee with him. “I’ll definitely be back next week and would like that list, so thank you.”

      “I’m sure you’ve invested a lot in the process already, but you’re looking at another big investment.”

      Alex knew that, but he could afford it. And even if he couldn’t, he hadn’t touched any of the insurance money he’d received after Mary’s death yet.

      Still, he wanted to be sure he’d been given the right scoop. “I’ve heard it can cost up to a hundred grand, plus medical expenses.”

      “That sounds about right, although it varies with each agency. And with each carrier. Those with a proven track record will cost more.” Dr. Ramirez lifted her cup and took a drink.

      It was weird, Alex thought. Here he was, sitting across from a beautiful woman, having coffee as if they were friends, yet he didn’t even know her first name.

      He wouldn’t ask—at least, not now.

      “You must have loved your wife a lot,” she said. “The whole surrogacy/implantation process can be daunting at times, especially when someone has to go through it alone.”

      To be honest, Alex hadn’t been very receptive to the idea when Mary had first mentioned in vitro. He’d thought it sounded too cold, too unnatural. But rather than admit to Dr. Ramirez that he’d been less than enthusiastic at the start of the whole process, he said, “Mary was a good wife and would have made a great mother.”

      A shadow of emotion crossed the doctor’s face—sympathy, Alex supposed—but she didn’t comment. And he was glad that she hadn’t.

      What was there to say? Mary would’ve been a wonderful mother, and Alex was sorry she’d never had the chance. All she’d ever wanted in life was to have kids and create a happy home. So when she’d learned that she wasn’t able to get pregnant, she’d been devastated by the news. But she’d rallied by researching all the options available to her, and before long, she’d become obsessed with having a baby—their baby.

      Alex had wanted to start a family, too, and had suggested they consider adoption. But Mary had refused to even think about it until they’d exhausted all their chances of having their own biological child.

      He’d finally agreed, and after the second implantation had been successful, resulting in a positive pregnancy test, he’d been as excited as Mary to think that they’d finally have a little one around the house. A baby. Imagine that.

      But they hadn’t even had time to think about decorating and stocking a nursery when Mary had the accident.

      The afternoon Alex had received the call from the sheriff’s office, telling him that his wife had been critically injured and wasn’t expected to live, he’d raced to the Brighton Valley Medical Center E.R., just in time to have a few last words with her. Important words.

      She’d known that the baby she carried at the time wouldn’t make it. But Alex still had the other embryos. And Mary had begged him to make sure they had a chance to live.

      “How did your wife die?” Dr. Ramirez asked, drawing him from his somber musing.

      “In a car accident.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said again.

      “Yeah.” Alex cleared his throat. “Me, too.”

      He’d grieved Mary’s death, of course, but he blamed himself for it, too. She’d asked him to pick up a list of groceries while he’d been in town, but he’d gotten so caught up talking to a couple of friends at the feed store that the errand she’d asked him to run had completely slipped his mind, and he’d gone home before a predicted summer rain hit.

      Now I’ll just have to go get them myself, Mary had told him.

      And Alex had let her go out to her car that rainy day—a decision he’d felt sorry about the moment he’d realized how dark and ugly the sky had turned, a regret he’d have until his own dying day.

      Why hadn’t he made a note for himself? Why hadn’t he picked up the items she’d needed before stopping to talk to Dan Walker and Ray Mendez?

      Now