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“No. No way. You aren’t my gynecologist. If anyone sees me there, people will talk.” I feel my pulse race and I swear I’m about to hyperventilate. “If anything is wrong with this baby, nobody can know. I wouldn’t be able to live with all the questions. The ‘when are you due’ and ‘who’s the daddy.’ I can’t. I just can’t.”
Hudson gets out of the car and joins me in the back seat. He puts a hand on my arm like his family doesn’t hate mine. “Allie, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out. After hours maybe, you could meet me there tomorrow after everyone leaves.”
“It’s still too risky, and besides, I don’t want to wait. Do you know how hard it was for me to come here and talk to you about this? Can we do it now? But not there. At my place. Or in the car even. Hudson, you don’t know what I went through. Nobody can know.”
“Okay, okay.” He looks back at the pub. “Let me go back to my brothers. In about ten minutes, I’ll say I was paged. I’m on call, so they won’t think anything of it. I’ll go to the office and get what I need and meet you at”—he looks at Mia—“the autobody shop? We need somewhere with good lighting for the blood draw.”
“That works for me,” Mia says.
I nod. “Thank you...” I glance over at his brothers.
“Allie, nobody will know about this. I promise. The blood draw will be quick and painless. I’ll send it out in the morning. We should have the results early next week. But try not to worry.”
“All I do is worry, Hudson.”
“I’m sure you do. But more than likely, come next week, there won’t be anything to worry about.” He goes for the door then turns back. “Out of curiosity, whoisthe father?”
I sneer at him. “Do you ask that of all your normal patients?”
He sweeps an arm at our surroundings. “You’re hardly a normal patient, Allie.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Sure I don’t.” He opens the door. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Nothing stays a secret in this town. See you at the auto shop in thirty minutes.”
Nothing stays a secret in this town.
I spend the next thirty minutes, and then the next thirty-six hours in a state of constant panic.
Chapter Eighteen
Allie
Every time my phone rings, I jump. Hudson said the results would take about three days. This is day three.
My parents sat me down last night and said they were worried about me. I lied and said Asher and I broke up. It was the only thing I could think of to explain my recent behavior. And it wasn’t so much a lie. Not that we’ve technically broken up. But can you even break up if you were never officially together?
Whenever Asher has texted about coming to town since Antigua, I’ve responded with a simple‘I’ll check my schedule’or‘Sorry, can’t make it this time.’
He’s starting to get the message, however, because I haven’t heard a thing from him in twelve days. The fact that I know exactly how many days have passed since I’ve heard from him is something I try not to think about. Because right now, there’s no room inside me to think about anything but the impending test results.
I run a hand across my belly pooch and think of Christopher. The first time I felt him move inside me was surreal. I was sure the test was wrong even when Dr. Miller assured me a false positive occurred some infinitesimal amount, like less than a fraction of a percent. My pregnancy was so normal I just knew there had been a mistake, which is why I refused further testing. As he grew inside me and I loved him more and more each day, I thought my sheer love for him would be the miracle he would need. And that he would bemymiracle. And we would live happily ever after, me and Christopher. Mother and child.
I’m startled when my phone rings. When I see Hudson’s number on the screen, my body goes completely numb. I can’t raise my hand off the bed to answer it. Because this is it. I’m about to find out if the next six months are going to be a living hell.
For a moment, I pray that the results show a different kind of abnormality. Maybe Trisomy 21: Down’s Syndrome. At least then I’d get to raise my baby. Interact with my baby.Lovemy baby. I sit here, bargaining with God, or maybe the devil. I can take something else. Just not that. Not Trisomy 18.
My mind flips through all the other things that could be wrong. All the other chromosomal issues or birth defects I researched way back then. To me, there were few that were worse than going through a normal pregnancy, having what appeared to be a normal baby, and then watching that perfect, tiny human pass away right in front of you.
My screen goes blank before I work up the courage to answer.
I immediately press the number to call Hudson back. But it goes to voicemail. I hang up and call again. Same thing. I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself for not answering. The torture just continues to pile up as I dial him over and over. Sweat dots my brow. Shivers of fear crawl up my spine. My hands are shaking.
Am I having a panic attack?
Finally, on the ninth or tenth try, he answers.
“Allie. Sorry about that, I just got paged into an emergency C-section. I only have a minute.”