Forever, Plus One

by Sophie Love

  Doctor Arkwright removed her stethoscope and slung it back around her neck again.

  “Now, because of your advanced maternal age,” she explained, her attention drawn back to Emily’s abdomen, “it’s a little more important for you to take the right vitamins, sleep enough, reduce your stress levels to the absolute minimum. They’re all things we would recommend to expectant mothers whatever their age, but for you it’s that extra bit important.”

  “Should we be worried?” Daniel asked. “About Emily’s age?”

  Emily frowned up at him. With her stomach on display and the both of them looking down at her like a specimen it made her feel vulnerable and somewhat at their mercy. She could cope with the doctor referring to her age, but not Daniel!

  Doctor Arkwright looked at Daniel briefly and shook her head. “It’s far more common for women to leave starting a family until their late thirties these days and the medical world is catching up. It’s not as much an issue as it used to be. Really the main hurdle is fertility, which clearly isn’t a problem in this case. There is a marginally higher risk of gestational diabetes, blood pressure problems, premature birth. But you’re in safe hands.”

  Emily certainly felt like she was in safe hands. She just wished there wasn’t so much testing to be done. It all felt a bit impersonal. Clinical. She didn’t like just feeling like a baby-making vessel and would be very glad when this initial assessment was over and done with.

  Doctor Arkwright peeled off her gloves. “All done. You’re in good shape, so nothing of concern there. Please, take a seat and we’ll have a quick look at your medical history.”

  Emily sat up and gave Daniel a weak smile, not quite ready to forgive him for his comments on her advanced age. She rearranged her clothes and slid her shoes back on, then took a seat. Doctor Arkwright washed her hands and then came and sat in her chair, spinning toward her computer. She took a moment to read the screen.

  “You have a good clean bill of health,” she said, looking through the data. “Scarlet fever in childhood with no lingering aftereffects. Non-smoker, which pleases me greatly. No particular health conditions. Nothing chronic. No ongoing medication use. A slightly higher alcohol rate than I’d like to see, but you’ll be completely quitting that for the next few months anyhoo.” She spun back around and looked at Emily.

  “We’re both quitting,” Emily said.

  “I didn’t think it would be fair otherwise,” Daniel said. “Especially since we own a bar with a cocktail waiter who’s second to none!”

  Doctor Arkwright smiled. Then she laid her forearms against the table and looked across at Emily, her expression serious.

  “Now, this might be a little bit of a delicate thing to discuss, but I couldn’t help noticing that on your registration forms you ticked the box of family history of mental health problems. If you’re comfortable to do so, I’d like you to tell me a little bit more about that history. It’s entirely for your benefit, no one’s judging here, it’s just to make sure we’re keeping an eye on the right sort of things while your hormones are changing throughout the pregnancy.”

  Emily clasped her hands in her lap, feeling instantly uncomfortable. Talking about her chaotic upbringing was her least favorite thing to do, especially to a stranger, even if that stranger was a doctor who’d probably heard it all before and just wanted to help.

  Daniel reached over and touched Emily’s hand for reassurance. Buoyed by his presence, Emily took a deep breath.

  “My father went through a long, long period of depression,” Emily said finally, her voice sounding thin. “For dozens of years. It was following my sister’s death.”

  Doctor Arkwright nodded and kept her face neutral as she wrote the information onto her form. “And your mother?”

  “My mother?” Emily shook her head. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with her to be honest with you. It could be something psychiatric. But then again she might just be a difficult person.”

  “She’s not been assessed or diagnosed with anything?”

  Emily shook her head. She was feeling very uncomfortable now. Talking about this stuff always made her feel a bit panicky. But Doctor Arkwright added the information to her forms, acting in no way as if Emily’s admission was anything to worry about.

  “And what about yourself?” she said, gently. “Did you ever experience any problems growing up?”

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean, I was devastated after Charlotte died. And after my dad…” She stopped speaking to collect her thoughts. After a breath, she started again. “There have been some really trying times in my life. I don’t know how well I dealt with them at the time. It took me years to even deal with it all. Then when I started, it came back to me in sort of scary flashbacks.”

  Daniel’s thumb stroked the top of her hand where it was resting. “She would zone out occasionally,” he added. “Sort of space out. But it happens a lot less now.”

  Doctor Arkwright remained very professional as they spoke, absorbing Emily’s admissions with nothing more than a sympathetic nod of the head. “It sounds like you may have been experiencing some mild PTSD symptoms,” she said.

  Emily felt alarmed. It sounded so dramatic. For her, it had just been something she’d gone through, some kind of natural outcome to touching on the memories she’d closed off for so many years.

  “Please, don’t worry,” the doctor reassured her. “It’s far more common than people believe, particularly when trauma happens in childhood. When we don’t have the language to express our emotions or even label them properly, repression becomes a natural defense mechanism. The important thing to note now is that you may be at a slightly higher risk of pre- or postnatal depression or psychosis. Again, it sounds dramatic but it’s very well treated these days, through counseling and medication if necessary. As long as we keep an eye on your symptoms there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  Emily nodded and let out her breath. Doctor Arkwright was very reassuring, but at the same time she felt a sense of unpleasant anticipation for what might be in store for her. These things were never talked of. Not amongst her friends, nor her mother’s generation. She couldn’t help but feel worried about having a higher chance of experiencing something that was so poorly understood.

  Doctor Arkwright smiled and handed a glossy folded slip of paper to Emily. “Here’s a pamphlet that details nutrition, vitamins, exercise, travel do’s and don’ts, et cetera. Take some time to read it and let me know if you have any questions when we next meet. I’ll also give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, which are very important. We’ll book a sonogram for four weeks’ time, so you can see your baby.”

  She turned to the computer and logged in an appointment for a scan. Then she turned back. “That’s it for now. I promise the follow-ups won’t take quite so long.”

  She stood and offered her hand to Emily to shake. Emily stood and shook the doctor’s hand, and Daniel did the same. It felt like the appointment had gone so quickly and was over in a blur, though they’d been there for such a long time. Emily had no idea how much of what she’d just heard she’d managed to absorb. It felt like basically nothing.

  They left the doctor’s office and walked together out into the bright day.

  “Did you take any of that in?” Emily asked Daniel as they strolled to where the car was parked.

  “Not really,” he confessed. “There was just so much information.”

  As they walked, Emily studied his face. He looked stressed and she wondered which bit of the appointment specifically had worried him the most. Her age-related health concerns? Her possibly elevated risk of postnatal depression? Or just the fact that he hadn’t committed every single one of the doctor’s words to memory?

  “It’s all in the pamphlet,” she reassured him. “We can read it over and over again. Every night before bed, if you want.”

  She laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Though Daniel nodded, he still looked tense, his gaze somewhat far
away. Emily wanted to ask him what was going through his mind, to find out what the issue was for certain, but he seemed to have shut down.

  She felt her own excitement begin to fade away as a result. Daniel’s attitude seemed to be becoming more at odds with her own. She couldn’t see even the smallest flicker of excitement in his eyes. It was just concern, worry, and stress that she saw in his expression.

  They got into the truck and drove home in silence.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Doctor Arkwright’s advice for Emily to stay off her feet and reduce her stress levels to the bare minimum went immediately out the window, because Memorial Day weekend arrived all too soon and the inn was packed to the rafters.

  Emily hurried down the stairs into the foyer, where guests were milling about in groups. The inn was looking beautiful thanks to Chantelle’s decorations. She’d filled the place with flags. Posters for the town parade adorned every wall. It looked set to be the best event yet. Mayor Hansen had really gone above and beyond this year, with an antique fire truck procession, the marching band from the high school, and a twenty-one-gun salute at the end. Emily was glad he’d organized such a great commemoration for the men and women who’d given their lives for the country’s freedom.

  Lois and Marnie were on the front desk, both looking rushed off their feet as they took calls and answered guest queries. Ever since Bryony’s redesign of the website had led to the inn being booked for the entire summer, Emily had had to shuffle things around. Serena wanted less work so she could focus more on her degree, so Emily had promoted Marnie from maid to front of house. Then she’d hired the Magic Elves cleaning company that Amy had sourced for the wedding to fill the void left by Marnie, and had gone on to employ an extra pair of hands in the form of a porter, a young man named Trent, whose role was to carry bags upstairs for the guests on check in. Despite the hecticness, it looked like the new system was working well. For now, at least.

  Emily caught up with Bryony in the guest lounge. Her laptop was resting on her knees, a pile of half drunk cups of coffee stacked on the coffee table before her. Usually there were only ever one or two people in the guest lounge, but today every single table and couch was occupied with people drinking coffee and juice, reading papers, studying maps, and planning their days out.

  “I know I say this every time I see you,” Emily said to Bryony as she sat beside her, “but seriously, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for the inn. I’ve never seen it like this.”

  Bryony smiled. “No problem. I just can’t wait until you get all the renovation work done for the expansion. It’ll give me a whole load of new coding to do. New forms. New pages.” Her eyes glittered with excitement.

  “You really love this stuff, don’t you?” Emily said, feeling baffled herself. She’d worked in marketing for years back in New York City and hated it now with every fiber of her being.

  Bryony wiggled her eyebrows. “I love it. Plus, I get to see all the mysterious guests who book in. Look at this one.” She swiveled her laptop around to show Emily the accommodation spreadsheet which was automatically populated by website bookings through the magic wizardry of computer code. “The carriage house has been booked out by Mr. X. I’m hoping he’s another Roman Westbrook.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows, excited also. “Or a James Bond villain.”

  Just then, a group of three men walked into the inn. They were all wearing beige slacks and polo shirts, and had varying shades of gray hair. Emily noticed then that each had a large roll of paper under their arms and realized that they weren’t some kind of traveling barbershop quartet but the architects from Erik & Sons, with their initial sketches for renovating Trevor’s house.

  She and Daniel had approached a local family firm, hoping they’d have a more sympathetic approach. As she leaped up now and walked toward them, she realized by their eerily similar appearances that they were the “& Sons” contingent. She shook each of their hands, blinking, feeling like she was looking at the same person three times over.

  “We’re triplets,” the man with the lightest gray hair explained. “I’m Wayne. This is Cain. And that’s Shane, the youngest by five minutes.”

  “My chances of remembering whose name belongs to who are more or less zero,” Emily confessed.

  “We don’t mind,” Wayne Erik continued. “We’ve had fifty-five years of being confused with each other. If we had a problem with it, we probably wouldn’t dress the same.”

  He grinned, indicating their matching Erik & Sons navy blue polo shirts.

  “Please,” Emily said, “let us go and find somewhere quiet where we can spread these out. I know we’re meeting for a tour of the house later today, but I’m so happy to take a look at these now.”

  She led them from the bustling foyer and into the empty dining room, whereby the Erik triplets unrolled their sketches onto the large walnut table.

  Emily peered down at the designs, one scroll per floor of the house. The plans looked phenomenal, grand and rather exciting. But seeing Trevor’s house pared down to lines and measurements on pieces of paper felt so odd to her, so unpleasant and final. She felt herself getting choked up.

  “I’m sorry,” she stammered, as tears suddenly sprung into her eyes. “The house belonged to my late friend. I still haven’t gotten my head around the fact he’s gone.”

  “It was Trevor Mann’s house, wasn’t it?” Wayne asked, softly.

  “Yes,” Emily said, dabbing her tears with her shirt sleeve. “Did you know him?”

  “Of course,” Cain confirmed. “Mr. Mann was on the zoning board so we had a lot of contact with him. He was quite a guy.”

  Emily could tell from the way he said it that he was being polite about the fact that Trevor was a difficult person to get along with.

  “He was a curmudgeonly old so-and-so, I know,” Emily said with a wistful smile. “He hated me at first. But we were great friends by the end.”

  The Erik brothers look at her kindly.

  “We’ll leave the plans with you,” Wayne explained. “Then we’ll talk more when we go through the house later.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said, glad that she and Daniel had chosen to go with this firm. That they were local and knew Trevor Mann was immensely reassuring. But something about Wayne Erik’s kindness made her tears come more readily. She flushed with embarrassment as she found herself suddenly unable to stop them streaming down her cheeks.

  “I’m also pregnant,” she confessed with a shy giggle. “The hormones are making me crazy.”

  The Erik triplets reassured her that she had nothing to apologize for. They left the plans with her so she and Daniel could look over them at a less hormonal moment and Emily told them she’d see them later that day.

  Just then Chantelle ran into the room. Yvonne must have just dropped her home following her sleep-over with Bailey.

  “Mommy!” she cried, running toward Emily and throwing her arms around her neck. She bestowed kisses onto her cheeks. “Wait, why are you crying?” she asked, moving away.

  Emily wiped the tears away. “Pregnancy hormones,” she said in a hushed voice. Then she put a finger to her lips.

  “Our secret,” Chantelle said with a nod. She jumped up off Emily’s lap. “When does the Memorial Day Parade start?”

  Emily checked the time. “Not long now. Once Daddy’s back from the store we can all go together.”

  Chantelle clapped her hands. She loved a parade, and anything where she got to spend time with her friends.

  Emily, too, was excited. Not just because she loved the memorial parade, but because Amy was in Sunset Harbor at the moment visiting her new boyfriend, Harry, the younger brother of Daniel’s friend George. So far, Amy had kept him completely to herself. Emily was growing increasingly curious about meeting him. In fact, she’d only seen him once, before Amy had revealed they were dating, and just fleetingly. She couldn’t even remember what he looked like, other than boyish. Amy was clearly in the beginning throes of lu
st because she’d been keeping her relationship very private, just as she had done with Fraser. Amy had a habit of not wanting any external sources to influence her relationship decisions. It had taken ages for Emily to get Amy to relent to introducing Harry, reminding Amy that she hadn’t let her vet Fraser and that had ended disastrously. Amy had finally agreed that the parade was a suitable place for them to have an actual conversation, and now the time had finally arrived for Emily to meet the man who had managed to change Amy’s mind about her little old town so thoroughly. She couldn’t wait!

  Maybe Harry was Amy’s The One?

  *

  As expected, the town was packed with all the locals and many tourists out in force to show their respect to the troops of yore. In fact, Emily was certain she’d never seen Sunset Harbor this busy. It felt as if the place had changed quite a bit in the time she’d lived here. It wasn’t as sleepy anymore.

  “Is it me, or are there more people here than usual?” Daniel asked her, as they strolled along together hand in hand.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Emily said, looking about her to see if she could spot Amy and Harry anywhere in the crowd.

  Just then, they saw Karen from the convenience store up ahead. They walked toward her and she turned as they drew up to her side. She hugged them all, thrilled to see them as always.

  “It’s so busy, isn’t it?” she exclaimed, echoing their sentiments.

  “More so than usual,” Emily agreed.

  “It’s because of Roman Westbrook,” Karen said, and she pointed to the other side of the road where the famous singer was waiting to watch the parade. Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the presence of the pop star on their humble streets.

  Roman was standing with an entourage, something that he hadn’t needed before. Emily realized that someone must have blabbed to the papers about him moving here, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed to know that word had gotten to the press so quickly. He’d been trying to keep his move here a secret to keep his privacy for as long as possible.