She’d distanced herself from her friends, anyway, and she was grateful for that now—grateful not to have anyone around who could read her well enough to see that she wasn’t herself. Couldn’t add the tension of having her mom drive up from San Diego, or Winston’s parents fly in. Not until they’d had a little bit of time to adjust.
To figure out what they were going to look like in this new together.
She drove for half an hour. By the house a few times. Wanting to be in there with him. To know where he’d be.
To be sure he’d be there when she got home. That he’d be sleeping in their bed that night. Or at least in their house.
To know that he was okay.
To help him. Hold him. Let her love seep back into him.
Starting to feel a bit queasy again, she stopped at the grocery store for some soda crackers. Felt a bit more in control as people smiled at her, wished her a good morning. Treated her like she was normal.
After several crackers and a bottle of water, consumed in her car, she took one last pass by the house. Couldn’t tell if Winston was still there or not as the garage was closed. She didn’t see movement or lights on, but with the July sun’s bright glare on the windows, there could have been either.
First of July. Eight months and twelve days until a new life would enter their world. Eight months and twelve days to figure out what world she or he would be entering. To create a joyful environment for him or her.
At the moment, eight years didn’t seem long enough to prepare.
She ended up at the Elliott clinic, asking to see Christine.
Emily trusted her.
In a short, short-sleeved denim dress with white lace at the collar and on the buttons up the front, and white tweed wedges, Christine looked both elegant and relaxed. And yet her expression shifted into concern the second she saw Emily, clearly understanding that something was wrong. Which made Emily glad she hadn’t gone straight into work.
Judging by the concern on Christine’s face, she was doing worse than she’d thought.
“You... Did you lose the baby?” the woman asked even before the office door closed behind them.
“No!” Emily had worn the tight black pin-striped skirt because Winston had liked the amount of leg it showed, but as she sat on the edge of a chair in front of Christine’s desk, she had the bizarre thought that she should have worn something more “mother” like. Though what that would be, she had no idea. Mothers didn’t stop being women. Sweat trickled down her back—probably leaving a mark on the tapered white blouse.
Like that mattered.
“Winston’s alive,” she said. And then, at the manager’s wide-eyed, openmouthed look, she hurried on with the basic details, leaving out the part about Winston’s inability to have sex with her the night before.
Ending with, “He’s clearly not happy about the baby. I feel awful. I’m... I thought I was doing the right thing. What he would’ve wanted. The Winston I knew...he wanted children as badly as I did. He was an only child and couldn’t wait to fill our house with...”
Shaking her head, she stopped. “I have no idea what to do.”
After a c
ouple of seconds of silence, Christine, who’d taken the seat next to her, asked, “Are you considering terminating the pregnancy?”
“Absolutely not!” She hadn’t even thought about it, but she felt an instinctive horror at the very suggestion. “God, no!” She’d... The idea of ending the life of a child created between her and Winston...
“I’m a little worried, though,” she continued. “I was violently sick this morning, and from what I read, morning sickness shouldn’t start for another couple of weeks, at least.”
“We can get you in to see Dr. Miller this morning, just to ease your mind,” Christine said. “But I’m sure everything is fine. It can start as early as two weeks, and with all the stress and shock you’ve been under for the past forty-eight hours, it’s not at all that surprising. Your body is adjusting to a lot, chemically and emotionally.”
She nodded, knowing that what Christine said was reasonable, but also that she still wanted to see the doctor. Just to ease her mind. To know what she could do to ease the effects of her stress on the baby. She told Christine that she’d also be calling the chaplain that morning. Planned to do so on her way into LA.
She didn’t really need to be there. Bothering the busy woman.
“I just... Do you think I’m selfish? That I did the wrong thing?”
“I think you made the choice that was right for you with the information you had when you made it.”
Which didn’t really answer her question. And yet, as Christine’s words flowed over her, she realized that she’d received the answer she’d needed. She stood, thinking she would wait out in reception until the doctor could see her.