“Will she dream?” I ask the doctor without taking my eyes off her.
“Pardon?”
I turn to the man who I’d guess to be in his late forties. He’s one of the new Society doctors. He’ll do exactly what I need him to do. I think about that. About how I’ve planned every detail of this.
“Dream. Will she dream?” I ask, my tone shorter than I intend.
“No.”
“Good.” Because I don’t want her trapped in that hell she dreamt the night of our wedding.
I draw a deep breath. “Do what you need to do. I need confirmation she’s pregnant. How far along. She’s been sick. Lost a few pounds.” How had I not seen how thin she was getting? “She’ll need something so she can keep food down. And vitamins. She’s a vegetarian,” I add, surprising myself because the only thing that should matter should be the baby. “Whatever you can give her now, do it.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be all right. Go wait outside while I see to your wife.”
I shake my head. “I’m staying.”
“It’s better—”
“I’m staying.”
He shuts his mouth and nods. I’m sure any doctor who wasn’t employed by The Society would question what the hell was going on, but Barnes won’t do that. Another benefit of my status within The Society. Thanks dad.
Dad. Fuck. I need to get on a plane to Austria tomorrow. I can’t leave her like this. Not until I’m sure she’s okay. Not until I’m sure she won’t harm herself or the baby. Although she won’t do the latter. I know enough about Isabelle to know she’s not capable of that.
I take a seat on the armchair and watch the doctor do his work. He draws several vials of blood and I want to ask if he should take it easy. She’s so small. He examines her, taking care to cover her so she’s never fully exposed. After what feels like an eternity, he gives her a shot of vitamins and sets two containers on the nightstand.
I get to my feet.
“I’ll write out a prescription you can refill as you need, but try the vitamins first. They should help with the nausea. If she still can’t keep anything down, you can give her these.”
“They’re safe for her and the baby?”
“Yes. Although the nausea should go away on its own in time. I’ll have my office email you some pamphlets. She is quite thin.”
I glance at the slight form beneath the blankets and nod. Is it because of the pregnancy though or had I already started the process of breaking her down the moment I’d brought her into this house and made her my prisoner?
“We’ll keep an eye on her. You just make sure to give her what she can stomach. Plain foods. Lots of snacks rather than big meals.”
“Okay.”
“I’d like to see her in my office soon. This week.”
I nod. “When will you know the results of the pregnancy test?”
“Within a few hours. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.”
“Thank you, Dr. Barnes.”
“Of course, Mr. St. James.”
A knock comes on the door then. It’s my mother. She glances at Isabelle then at the doctor and me.
“Can you walk Dr. Barnes out?” I ask her. “I’d like to stay with my wife.” My wife. How strange it sounds. How off course life has gone in five years’ time.
“Of course, Jericho. This way, Dr. Barnes.”
They leave and the door closes behind them. When it does, I walk to Isabelle’s bedroom to get a pair of panties and from under her pillow I find that ratty T-shirt she likes to wear to bed. I carefully dress her before laying her back down. I notice how cold her feet are so I go back into her room and find a pair of fuzzy socks. I slip those on as well before I tuck her in. Her breathing is quiet and calm, so opposite how she was just a little while ago. I look at her for a long, long minute before leaning down to kiss her forehead.
The door opens just as I’m doing it. I school my features and turn, expecting to find my mother. But it’s not her. It’s Angelique. I can see she’s been crying and her eyes grow wide when they settle on Isabelle.
“Is she hurt?” she asks, a sob breaking the sentence, her lip trembling.
I go to her, lifting her up to carry her to her bed. “No, she’ll be fine. She just hasn’t been feeling well so Dr. Barnes gave her something to help her sleep.”
“When will she wake up?”
“In a little while, sweetheart,” I say, brushing her hair back from her face. She inherited Kimberly’s wild curls.
“I saw you kissing her.” She smiles but her eyes are still sad.
I don’t say anything but smile back.
She touches my cheek. “You’re bleeding, daddy.”