Free The Offering by Angela Hunt

to choose whose baby we carry.”
    â€œ You carry,” he corrected, but he sat and flipped the cover of the first file.
    I sat next to him and skimmed the page as he read. I’d devoured each couple’s information as soon as I came home, which meant we settled for a dinner of microwaved fish sticks and cold potato salad.
    The first couple, Forrest and Jennifer Jeffrey, lived in Orlando, less than two hours away. They were in their midthirties and had been married ten years. “We have tried everything to have a child,” Jennifer wrote on the application. “We’ve tracked my ovulation, Forrest has worn boxer shorts for months, we’ve done everything the doctors and the old wives’ tales suggested. We even tried IVF, but none of our babies implanted after transfer and we felt guilty about using up so many living embryos. When our doctor suggested we contract with a gestational carrier, we didn’t take the idea seriously at first, but I want a baby more than anything in the world. So we’re going to wait for you, dear volunteer, and hope you will be willing to carry our child to term. Time is of the essence, of course, because Forrest and I aren’t growing any younger. We don’t want to pressure you, not now or ever, but we have a lot of time, love, and resources to share with you and with a baby.”
    â€œResources.” Gideon tapped the page. “That’s code.”
    â€œCode for what?”
    â€œThey’re rich. I guess it’s the most tasteful way to say they’ll pay anything if you’ll do this for them.”
    â€œAt least they were subtle about it.”
    I handed him the second folder. This couple had sent an eight-by-ten color photograph of themselves, and Gideon blinked when he saw a picture of two middle-aged men. Andre and Hugh had been together six years and planned to marry as soon as the option became legal.
    Gideon read the letter aloud: “ ‘We’re now living in Vermont, and we’d go anywhere to have another baby. We are currently raising Samantha and Stephanie, twin girls from China, and more than anything we want the girls to have a brother. So we are looking for a gestational carrier who would be willing to transfer at least three embryos—”
    Gideon frowned at me. “Where do they get the embryo?”
    â€œFrom their sperm and an egg donor, I guess.”
    â€œWho’s the egg donor?”
    â€œI don’t know. Men make deposits in a sperm bank; women must sell eggs to an egg farm—er, bank.”
    He shook his head. “Abuela won’t believe any of this. And they’re asking you to carry triplets? Isn’t that a lot riskier than a typical pregnancy?”
    â€œI think triplets are a long shot, but I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Natasha about it.”
    Gideon kept reading: “—transfer at least three embryos and then selectively terminate any female fetuses. We are a committed couple, dedicated parents, and want to bring more love and joy to this world. What better way to do that than to have more babies?”
    My husband scowled. “Did I read that right? They want to terminate females?”
    â€œI’ve already scratched them off my list.” I took the file and pushed it away. “I’m surprised Natasha gave me that couple. I thought she knew I would never terminate a pregnancy.”
    Gideon said nothing as I opened the third file and handed it over. The photo paper-clipped to the first page featured an unusually striking couple. The husband was tall and big boned, his blond hair full and shining, his beard perfectly clipped. Though the man could have been anywhere from forty-five to sixty, the woman couldn’t have been more than forty. She stood tall and pencil thin beside her husband, her pale face unlined and her brown hair long and flowing. Both of them had large blue eyes and the look of people who had never broken a