“According to this, you’re not pregnant, Semantha.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Me, either.”
“I should see Dr. Moffet, then.”
“No. I still want us to leave Daddy out of it. We are old enough to handle this ourselves. It’s a woman’s issue. I’ll get another doctor, as I promised.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll bring him here. I’ve already done some research and have spoken to someone.”
“Another doctor will come here? I thought only Dr. Moffet made house calls and only because of us.”
“Christmas trees. When will you learn? Everyone has a price. Medicine is just another business,” she said. “Now, let’s not think any more about this until then.”
Early in the afternoon on the following day, while I was working on some math problems she had left for me to do, Cassie returned with a man she introduced as Dr. Samuels. He was a short man, not more than an inch or so taller than I was, with curly dark brown hair and a dark brown mustache that I thought was poorly trimmed. His hazel eyes weren’t especially big, but they bulged a little, making it seem as if he was astonished all the time. I was never good at guessing ages, but because he had some graying at his temples and some deep crow’s feet and creases in his forehead, I thought he was in his late fifties or early sixties.
“Let’s go u
p to your bedroom, Semantha,” Cassie said. “Dr. Samuels will examine you, and we’ll see what’s to be done.”
He didn’t smile or say anything comforting as Dr. Moffet would have. His silence made me a little uncomfortable, but I did as Cassie asked.
“Just sit on your bed,” he told me, and opened his doctor’s satchel to take out a stethoscope. Before he did anything, he asked me questions about my nausea, my backaches, and my period. His face didn’t reveal anything. He simply nodded at my answers and descriptions and then finally asked me to undress. I looked at Cassie. She stood right behind him and nodded.
He studied my breasts and touched my stomach. His look of astonishment grew even more emphatic when he listened to my stomach with the stethoscope. He asked me to go into the bathroom to take another quick pregnancy test. After he checked the strip, he spoke quietly with Cassie outside in the hallway while I waited on my bed. When they returned, they both wore very serious looks of concern that frightened me.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Well, for one thing,” Dr. Samuels said, “you are not pregnant in the normal sense.”
“I don’t understand. How can you be pregnant abnormally?”
He looked at Cassie before continuing, and she nodded.
“You are suffering with what we call pseudocyesis. We don’t see it that often in young girls as much as in mature women.”
“What is that?”
“With pseudocyesis, women have symptoms similar to true pregnancy. They have morning sickness, tender breasts, gain weight, suffer abdominal distension, and many actually claim they experience the sensation of fetal movement, known as quickening, even though there is no fetus present. Some actually go into false labor.”
“The most famous case of that is Mary Tudor, the queen of England, who believed she was pregnant more than once when she wasn’t. She needed an heir,” Cassie said.
I wondered how she could know so much about everything, even this very unusual female condition.
“Yes, that’s a good example,” Dr. Samuels said.
“But why would I have this?” I asked. “I don’t want to be pregnant.”
“I’m not a psychiatrist, but subconsciously, you might,” Dr. Samuels said, and looked at Cassie again. “Your sister has told me about your mother losing her baby and how that led to a larger tragedy.”
“And deeply disappointed our father,” Cassie added. “He hasn’t been the same since that aborted pregnancy.”
I shook my head. “I still don’t understand.”
“In your subconscious mind, you’re having the baby who was lost and giving your father a wonderful gift,” Dr. Samuels said. Cassie nodded when he looked at her again.