“Abigail was just telling me you need some blood work done. And I hear you haven’t been taking your iron pills like she told you to.” He shook his finger at her. “You always were stubborn, even when you were a child. It’s because of you I still have strawberry lollipops in the cupboard, you know.” He turned toward Rebecca. “She wouldn’t have any other kind, just those.” He shook his head. “Stubborn, just like her mother.”
Claire’s face flushed as she handed him his coffee. With a smile playing on his face, he walked her through to the back, where the treatment rooms and offices were. They found Abby sitting at her desk studying a file in front of her.
“Here she is, Abigail. She even brought coffee.”
Abby jumped in her chair, dropping some papers she’d been holding.
“Will,” she said, her hand pressed tight against her chest. “You’ve got to give me some warning.” She shook her head. “You need to start whistling or wearing a bell or something.” She smiled as she came to the door. “Your birthday is coming up, Dr. Will. Just you wait,” she teased.
“She says that every year and then only gives me books.” He shook his head before he sauntered back down the hall. “Rebecca, I think it’s time we get this afternoon party started,” he called, his voice ricocheting along the walls.
They both watched him until he disappeared through the waiting room doorway.
“He seems particularly chipper today,” Claire said.
“He’s getting ready to leave for a fishing trip.” Abby smiled. “Have a good nap?”
Claire nodded. “I’m still really tired though.”
Abigail narrowed her gaze. “You know Josh is worried, right? Frankly, I’m not liking what I’m seeing either. Let’s see what your blood has to tell us.”
Claire bit her lip.
“Honestly,” Abigail said as she shook her head. “I’ve never seen a grown woman so on edge when it comes to needles. You should be used to them by now.”
“I thought I’d be done with them, to be frank.” She shrugged.
Abby led her into a small treatment room close to her office. It was the one Abby liked the most—she kept drawings that some of her younger patients had made for her on the walls to help brighten the sterile environment.
On the counter sat a tray with a needle, vials for blood, and a small container.
“What else did Josh tell you?”
“What do you mean?”
“He thinks I could be pregnant.” Claire swallowed hard past the words. She would know if she were, and she wasn’t.
Abby gently rubbed her arm. “It won’t hurt to check.”
Abby proceeded with her usual checkup—listening to Claire’s heart and making her breathe in deeply, which forced her to yawn way too many times.
“Is it possible to be tired of being tired?” she asked after another big yawn. Claire watched as her friend inserted the needle with as much gentleness as possible, and then she turned her head away once the blood started filling the vials. That part always made her squeamish.
Abby chuckled, and Claire knew it was because of her reaction.
“Considering you’re the one saying it, yes.” She took one more vial of blood before easing the needle out and putting a bandage on Claire’s skin. “But, don’t worry. We’ll get this figured out, and you’ll be back to your normal energetic self again in no time.” She handed her the cup. “Now, go pee.”
The whole procedure of having to urinate in a tiny cup, being sure to catch it midstream, made her feel faintly ridiculous. When she was done, Claire headed back into the small treatment room, placed the cup on the waiting tray, and then made her way back to Abby’s office, where she’d left her coffee.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Abby leaned against her desk and handed Claire’s coffee to her. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in a minute or two.”
Claire went to the window that overlooked the main street. She loved their town. There was a decided charm to it. The main street was vehicle-free during the summer months, and the roadway would end up colored in chalk drawings by the kids who attended summer camps in the town park.
It reminded her of the many European towns they’d visited, although without their Old World appeal.
Like Venice.
Just the thought of it had her longing to go back. There was something about the narrow streets, the open squares, and the canals that pulled at her heartstrings. They’d stayed less than a week, but she could have stayed longer.
Her husband stood in the window of the bookstore directly opposite and waved. She waved back. He held up something to show her, and while she had no clue what book it was, she could tell by the large grin on his face that he was excited. She gave him a thumbs-up and watched him walk toward the counter.
She checked her watch. Almost ten minutes had passed since Abby had left her. She walked over to the door and poked her head out to see if she could spot Abby anywhere in the hallway, but it was as quiet as a church.
Frowning, she checked her watch again and then sat down, swirling her coffee in the cup, suddenly uninterested in drinking the rest of it.
What was taking Abigail so long?
Dr. Shuman’s voice boomed from somewhere in the building, but she couldn’t make out the words. It almost sounded like a booyah. Something must have gotten him excited. Either that or he was seeing off one of his younger patients.
The minutes dragged on and various scenarios of doom played out in Claire’s head, something no doubt everyone did when they were waiting for results to come back.
“Hey.” Abby poked her head into the office. “Sorry for the delay.” She sounded a bit out of breath, as if she’d just jogged there. “Um, where is Josh?”
Claire half turned in her seat. “Over at the bookstore. Why?”
“Just wondering.” She shrugged. “He’s coming to pick you up, though, right?”
Claire could hear the forced nonchalance in Abby’s voice, as if she were trying hard to remain calm.
“What’s going on? And yes, he should be here any minute.” She attempted to give her friend the look—the one that said Don’t mess with me and Tell me what’s wrong all in one—but it didn’t seem to work.
“Great.” She popped her head out and then back in. “I’ll be back in a minute. Promise.”
She closed the door behind her before Claire could say another word.
What was going on?
She pulled out her phone and sent Josh a text message.
Can you come now? Abby is acting weird, and I think something is wrong.
She crossed her leg and bounced her foot up and down while waiting for his reply, suddenly very nervous.
Here now. One sec.
Claire pushed herself up from the chair and went to open the door. She stood there, arms crossed, fingers tapping against her ribs, while she waited for Abby to return with her husband in tow.
The moment they rounded the corner, Claire’s heart stopped.
There was a look of panic on Josh’s face. If it weren’t for Abby’s hand on his arm, it looked like he would have bolted toward her.
Abby on the other hand—her eyes danced with light and there was a contained smile on her face.
Dr. Shuman followed behind and rubbed his hands together as he stared at her. Claire couldn’t tell if he was smiling or worrying.
“What’s wrong?” Claire forced the words past the lump in her throat.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” Abby reached out to squeeze her hand before pushing past her to step into her office.
Claire sat back down on her chair with Josh beside her, and they held hands. Josh’s grip was firm, as if knowing she needed the grounding while they waited for Abby to get comfortable.
Dr. Shuman stood at Abby’s side.
“What is going on?” Claire asked again.
There was a palpable tension in the air and goose bumps materialized all over Claire. Something was wrong. Something horrible. And Abby
needed Dr. Shuman for support.
She was dying. Or . . . something equally terrible. There was no other explanation.
“Claire, honey, I don’t know how to say this.” Abigail cleared her throat. She stared down at her desk, at a sheet of paper she held in her hands. “We’re going to wait on the blood work to come back for confirmation, but I ran some tests with your urine sample.” She looked up and gave a weak smile. “A few tests, actually. And then made Will come and do more tests to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.”
Dr. Shuman placed his hand on Abby’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Cut the crap, Abby. What is going on?” Josh leaned forward.
Tears sprang to Abby’s eyes as she looked from Josh to Claire.
“We’re going to wait on the blood work—” Abby repeated before her phone rang and Rebecca’s voice came through the speaker.
“Dr. Shuman, you’re needed at reception.”
“Oh, bloody hell.” The older doctor pursed his lips together as he headed to the door. “You come see me before you leave, you hear?” He left before they could say anything.
“Abby . . .” Claire’s chest was tight, and it was getting difficult to breathe.
Josh put his arm around her and made her lean into him, which she did willingly. She needed his strength right now because she had a feeling whatever her friend was about to say would have her collapsing on the floor.
“Okay. I know I told you that if you were ever to get pregnant, that it would be a miracle, because that was the only option left. Well,” she said. “Honey, I would say God just gave you a miracle.” A wide smile spread across her face as she leaned forward, her hands reaching out to take theirs.
Claire just sat there, not understanding what Abby had just said. She looked to Josh, who sat there equally confused.
“What are you saying?” Josh asked, his voice raspy.
“I’m saying you’re having a baby.” By now, Abby’s face was flushed, and she pressed her hands over her heart. Tears welled up, and for a moment, a brief moment, time stood still for Claire.
You’re having a baby.
You’re having a baby.
I’m having a baby!
Claire thought those words over and over to herself. Did Abby just tell her she was pregnant? How was that possible?
“How?” she whispered.
“You’re asking me that?” Abby threw her hands in the air. “Maybe that cruise was exactly what you needed. A time to relax, unwind, and stop trying so hard. I’ve heard of this happening, but I’ve never witnessed it directly. Couples try for years to have a baby, they get extremely stressed, and then when they finally give up or make the decision to adopt . . . it’s like they’re free, and it gives their body permission to do whatever it needs to.”
Claire shook her head. “There must be a mistake. The blood work will come back and tell you differently.”
Josh’s grip around her shoulders tightened.
“I don’t think so,” Abby said.
Claire didn’t want to believe it. “What about the high protein in my urine?”
“This time, there was none. The urinalysis did confirm that you’re anemic, which we already knew.” Abby leaned back in her chair, folding her hands together with a satisfied look on her face. “Claire, honey, you’re going to have a baby.”
All the blood drained from Claire’s face and the world around her tilted. She leaned forward and heard Abby tell Josh to put her head down by her knees. Things started to go black. A sound like waves crashing against the shore filled her ears, and it was all she could do not to be sick.
“Breathe, honey, just breathe.” Josh’s voice finally pushed through those deafening waves, and she could feel his hand rubbing her back.
After a few minutes, she finally sat up, feeling weak and depleted.
She let Abigail’s words sink in. Words she’d always wanted to hear. Words she never thought would be said to her.
“We’re going to have a baby,” she whispered, gazing at Josh.
His eyes were bright with tears as he leaned in and gently kissed her.
“We’re going to have a baby,” he said.
Claire closed her eyes as his words washed over her. Miracles did happen. Dreams do come true.
Her heart felt ready to burst with something far greater than happiness or joy.
SIX
CLAIRE
A memory from Paris
Last week of March
The bells of Notre Dame rang as they stood watching a scene Claire itched to draw. Her fingers pushed together as if gripping a pencil while she studied a man in the church gardens. He walked in lazy circles, feeding the pigeons that followed him as he scattered seed on the ground. Every so often, he’d raise his arm, and a bird would fly up to perch there, as though stopping to chat with him before flying away.
Were they thanking him for the meal? Was he telling them when to come back for another visit? He was old, his back stooped, and his long coat tattered, but the smile on his face . . . it mesmerized her.
“Are you ready?” Josh tugged her arm, anxious to head to the Shakespeare and Company bookstore, something that had been on their bucket list from the day they’d met.
“Do you think we could go speak to him?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away, as much as she knew she had to.
“And scare his friends away? I got a few shots of him for you to use later.” He held up their Canon camera.
Claire wasn’t ready to lose this feeling yet. “How about after the bookstore we sit at the café, so I can draw for a bit?” Just across the road stood a quaint Parisian café with an outdoor terrace.
“Sure. But do we get a coffee or a cappuccino? I always feel like I’m ordering the wrong thing.”
“Espresso, Josh. That’s all you need to remember.”
They’d been in the City of Love for three days now, and he still struggled with something as simple as ordering coffee. The first day there, he’d asked for a café au lait in the midafternoon, and the look he received from the server had him hastily changing his order.
They headed to the famous bookstore, where a violinist played a soulful serenade outside the entrance. While Josh headed inside, Claire browsed the used book carts out front, finding an assortment of both French and English books. She was browsing leisurely and enjoying the music, when Josh popped his head out the door.
“You’ve got to see this place!”
His excitement drew her in, but once inside, she stopped dead in her tracks. A desk sat square in the middle, and it was surrounded, literally surrounded, by stacks of books, bookshelves, and chairs with books piled on top of them. On either side of the desk were narrow doorways outlined by more bookshelves.
Josh was bouncing in place as he waited for her to take it all in.
“Couldn’t you see Jack in here? Itching to climb the shelves, taking down books and looking through them, even sitting in that chair, his legs swinging while he’s waiting for his mom?” He brought the camera up for a shot, but before he could take a photo, the bookseller stopped him.
“No photos, monsieur.” She pointed to a sign directly in front of them that held an image of a camera with a large X through it.
Like a kid denied his candy, Josh slowly lowered the camera to his chest.
“You’d better give it to me, and I’ll put it in my bag,” Claire said. The bookseller eyed her husband in a way that told Claire she didn’t trust him to obey the rules.
They wandered the hallways, agog at all the books, before heading up the stairs, where photographs of the great minds of literature covered the walls.
“To think Hemingway sat here, in this room . . .” Josh gazed about him, fingering the spines of books, leafing through pages, and sighed with pure contentment.
Claire hated to break the spell.
“Actually, Hemingway never visited this location. He held readings at the original store. It closed during the war and never reopened.”
The disappointment on her husband’s face made Claire wish she’d never said anything.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Claire held up a brochure she’d picked up and handed it to him.
“Opened in the fifties, huh?” Josh looked around him and shrugged. “There’s still magic here. You can feel it. The creative energy . . . it’s enriching. Let’s each pick out a book—to say that we did.”
Claire pointed to a book with old illustrations that she’d found. “I already did. How about I meet you over at the café? You can spend your time in here browsing, and I’ll grab a table and start drawing.”
Almost an hour later, Josh joined her. She’d completed the drawing of the man beside the church, surrounded by pigeons, and she was now enjoying her second cup of coffee.
Josh carried a brown bag with the store’s logo on it and pulled out a box. “I think this will look nice in our office, don’t you?” He opened the box, revealing a book inside.
She pointed to a similar box on the table. She’d bought an old book that she liked, but truth be told, she mainly wanted the box so she could set it on a shelf. The box was brown with the store’s logo in gold. “Great minds think alike,” she said.
He smiled as he looked at her drawing. “Wow. That’s incredible, Claire.” He helped himself to a sip of Claire’s coffee, and then, setting it down hastily, he checked his watch. “We should probably go if we want to make the walking tour.”
The walking tour turned out to be an enchanting excursion with a little epiphany at the end. Stumbling along one of the only original cobblestone streets in Paris, they delighted in the architecture and savored decadent hot chocolate. After the tour, they retraced their steps for another round of hot chocolate from their favorite stop. It was there, at Un Dimanche à Paris, that Josh was hit with a new idea for Jack.
Near the well-known chocolate shop was an old pub. Sitting in front of the pub was a puppy, brown with one large white spot on its forehead. Josh caught sight of him, and the puppy ran up to him, jumped up to put his paws on him, and then trotted off down the street. He would stop every few yards and look back, whimpering in invitation, to persuade Josh to follow him. But from out of nowhere, a little boy with a ball appeared. The boy chased after the puppy, laughing while the pup barked, happy to have someone to play with.
Saving Abby Page 5