The Doctor's Pregnancy Bombshell

“So, what exactly is it that I can do for you today?” he finally asked.

She gave him a startled look. “Nothing, child.”

Child? He’d choose to ignore that, but nothing?

“Mrs Little, you understand that there are other patients waiting to see me? That my time is valuable, and if there’s nothing I can do for you, you’ve taken up time I could have spent with another patient.” He pinned her with a direct stare. “Why are you here?”

The woman’s wrinkled face drew into a frown and her chubby arms crossed. Unwaveringly, she met his gaze with her arcus-rimmed pupils. He mentally made a note to check her cholesterol levels as fatty deposits in the eye caused the light ring to form.

“To see Dr Melissa, of course.” Her expression said she thought he was the one missing a few marbles.

This was Melissa’s practice, a practice she loved, so he remained diplomatic, pleasant even as he smiled at the woman. “She’s not here this afternoon.”

Melissa had gone to see Dr McGowan that afternoon. He’d wanted to go with her, but that meant closing the office, and she wouldn’t hear of it. They’d worked out a compromise and he went every other visit. That way he could at least keep current on what was going on with the baby.

The woman gave him a worried look. “But she will be back tomorrow, right? I really need to see her. It’s a matter of life and death.”

A matter of life and death? That sounded more up his alley. Pleased that they were finally getting somewhere, James took the woman’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Mrs Little, if it’s that urgent, I can take care of you today and then you won’t need to see Dr Conner tomorrow.”

The woman’s drawn-on-with-a-black-pencil brows V’d. “But you don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Exactly. “Then perhaps you will enlighten me so we can take care of this life-and-death matter.”

She pulled her hands free and tightened her arms across her chest in a protective gesture. “But you’re not Dr Melissa.”

“No.” His patience wore thin. “But I am a trained medical doctor and am more than qualified to take care of any medical issue you have. Particularly life-or-death ones.”

She didn’t look impressed. Neither did she budge an inch from her stance, just gave him a smug look. “Qualified doesn’t mean you can do squat for my problem.”

“True enough.” He took a deep breath. “But if you tell me what ails you, we can determine if I can or if you need an appointment with Dr Conner tomorrow.”

The woman’s gaze dropped to her abundant lap, as did her hands. She wrung her arthritic fingers. “I can’t sleep at night,” she admitted.

Finally. “Insomnia is a common problem. I’ll give you a handout on some lifestyle tips to make sure you aren’t causing the insomnia through diet or behavior.” He scribbled some remarks in her chart. “I’ll also write you a prescription.”

That drawn-on brow so in contrast to her shock of white hair lifted. “Ain’t no sleeping pill going to help me sleep.”

“How would you know that?” He’d reviewed Mrs Little’s chart and hadn’t seen any documentation of medication trials. The woman rarely came in other than for a refill on her heart medicines and the occasional upper respiratory infection.

She tossed another look that said he wasn’t right. “Because you didn’t ask why I ain’t sleeping.”

James had to give credit where cred

it was due. She had a point. He hadn’t asked. He’d been in too big a hurry to move on to the next patient so he could finish his day and check on Melissa. He wanted to know what Dr McGowan had told her, how the baby was progressing, though mainly he just wanted to see Melissa.

“Why can’t you sleep, Mrs Little?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound patronizing. He had no doubt the older woman would call him on it if he did.

“’Cos Mr Little won’t let me.”

James suspected he was the one wearing that missing-a-few-marbles look now. “He snores?” he guessed.

The woman frowned. “All his life, but what does that have to do with my not sleeping?”

James sat the chart down on the counter. “Mrs Little, could you, please, just tell me what Mr Little is doing that’s keeping you from sleeping?”

“Not if you’re going to take that tone of voice, young man.” Her arms crossed and she locked up as tight as Fort Knox.