Read Online Starter House A Novel by Sonja Condit - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sonja Condit
Ads: Link
meant was, I wanted to go first and take Theo, because it’s not right. Jeanne was quicker than me is all.” It should have been true; it was as good as true.
The lawyer typed as Lex spoke. “Good. You get me Theo’s medical records, and I’ll get your custody hearing on the calendar.”
Lex stood up. “You’re a good lawyer,” he said. “You like avocados?”
“What I’d like is evidence good enough to make a family court judge take a ten-month-old baby away from her mother. If every chubby kid got taken into protective custody, we’d have to build a ranch the size of Texas to keep them in.”
“I can take more pictures. Better pictures.”
“Do that. I’ll get started on custody and visitation.”
The lawyer walked around the desk to shake Lex’s hand. People didn’t get close to Lex. Men, when they shook his hand, kept their arms straight to hold him off. Women crossed their arms when he came too close, and they never shook his hand at all. This was the first time a man who had a desk had walked around instead of reaching across. Lex let the hand drop—he was never sure how to stop shaking hands; was he supposed to pull away or let go or squeeze harder? There was a way to do it and he never found out how—and he backed out of the room.
Chapter Ten
ERIC WAS RIGHT, as he so often was. It made Lacey tired. One of these days he’d be wrong about something, and his head would explode. She laughed at the childish thought, though she was ashamed of it. He was the living twin of her teacher voice, an essential part of herself. He’d suggested she call the OB who’d seen her at the hospital, because sooner or later she’d end up in the hospital anyway. Dr. Vlk, it turned out, had a private practice, and her nurse found room in the schedule for Lacey on Monday, August 22.
The baby was twenty-two weeks old. Dr. Vlk, dressed not in scrubs but a gray skirt-suit and pearls, turned the ultrasound machine so Lacey could see him. He grabbed his umbilical cord and pulled on it.
“Can’t you make him stop?” Lacey said.
“The placenta’s stabilized. See the white band? That’s scar tissue. It looks good.”
Lacey wanted to ask will he live? but she didn’t trust her voice—this good news brought her closer to tears than all the weeks of fear and doubt. He was the size of a Cornish game hen. Half his body was head. He turned his face, and Lacey saw his profile, his beautiful little nose, his short upper lip. Dr. Vlk took the picture and said, “We’re getting a good heartbeat and lots of kicking. You can start exercising a little, short walks, but still no heavy lifting.”
Lacey felt safe in Dr. Vlk’s hands. Will he live? A good heartbeat and lots of kicking: she’d take that. She even tried a little joke. “Dr. Vlk,” she said, “wouldn’t you like to buy a vowel?”
Dr. Vlk was not a woman for jokes, not with those pearls. She had the look of the veteran teacher who’d mentored Lacey through her first semester of practice teaching, a natural mind reader, terrifying but comforting too. Dr. Vlk looked into Lacey and through her, as Mrs. Ravenel used to look at students. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“If the baby’s fine, I’m fine.”
“We don’t have time for me to be your psychiatrist.”
Some bedside manner. “What happens if I start bleeding again?” Lacey asked.
Dr. Vlk’s eyes were a silvery blue, almost as light as her hair. This was a woman who could not lie. “He’s about viable,” she said. “The longer he cooks, the better he’s done. The outcome’s not what you’d want till you’re past thirty weeks. Thirty-five is better. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lacey swung her feet off the examination table. “We’re fine,” she said. As a teacher, she’d known when students were in trouble, often before the students knew it themselves. More than once, she’d kept a child in before recess to ask what was wrong and received a wide-eyed Nothing in return,
The lawyer typed as Lex spoke. “Good. You get me Theo’s medical records, and I’ll get your custody hearing on the calendar.”
Lex stood up. “You’re a good lawyer,” he said. “You like avocados?”
“What I’d like is evidence good enough to make a family court judge take a ten-month-old baby away from her mother. If every chubby kid got taken into protective custody, we’d have to build a ranch the size of Texas to keep them in.”
“I can take more pictures. Better pictures.”
“Do that. I’ll get started on custody and visitation.”
The lawyer walked around the desk to shake Lex’s hand. People didn’t get close to Lex. Men, when they shook his hand, kept their arms straight to hold him off. Women crossed their arms when he came too close, and they never shook his hand at all. This was the first time a man who had a desk had walked around instead of reaching across. Lex let the hand drop—he was never sure how to stop shaking hands; was he supposed to pull away or let go or squeeze harder? There was a way to do it and he never found out how—and he backed out of the room.
Chapter Ten
ERIC WAS RIGHT, as he so often was. It made Lacey tired. One of these days he’d be wrong about something, and his head would explode. She laughed at the childish thought, though she was ashamed of it. He was the living twin of her teacher voice, an essential part of herself. He’d suggested she call the OB who’d seen her at the hospital, because sooner or later she’d end up in the hospital anyway. Dr. Vlk, it turned out, had a private practice, and her nurse found room in the schedule for Lacey on Monday, August 22.
The baby was twenty-two weeks old. Dr. Vlk, dressed not in scrubs but a gray skirt-suit and pearls, turned the ultrasound machine so Lacey could see him. He grabbed his umbilical cord and pulled on it.
“Can’t you make him stop?” Lacey said.
“The placenta’s stabilized. See the white band? That’s scar tissue. It looks good.”
Lacey wanted to ask will he live? but she didn’t trust her voice—this good news brought her closer to tears than all the weeks of fear and doubt. He was the size of a Cornish game hen. Half his body was head. He turned his face, and Lacey saw his profile, his beautiful little nose, his short upper lip. Dr. Vlk took the picture and said, “We’re getting a good heartbeat and lots of kicking. You can start exercising a little, short walks, but still no heavy lifting.”
Lacey felt safe in Dr. Vlk’s hands. Will he live? A good heartbeat and lots of kicking: she’d take that. She even tried a little joke. “Dr. Vlk,” she said, “wouldn’t you like to buy a vowel?”
Dr. Vlk was not a woman for jokes, not with those pearls. She had the look of the veteran teacher who’d mentored Lacey through her first semester of practice teaching, a natural mind reader, terrifying but comforting too. Dr. Vlk looked into Lacey and through her, as Mrs. Ravenel used to look at students. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“If the baby’s fine, I’m fine.”
“We don’t have time for me to be your psychiatrist.”
Some bedside manner. “What happens if I start bleeding again?” Lacey asked.
Dr. Vlk’s eyes were a silvery blue, almost as light as her hair. This was a woman who could not lie. “He’s about viable,” she said. “The longer he cooks, the better he’s done. The outcome’s not what you’d want till you’re past thirty weeks. Thirty-five is better. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lacey swung her feet off the examination table. “We’re fine,” she said. As a teacher, she’d known when students were in trouble, often before the students knew it themselves. More than once, she’d kept a child in before recess to ask what was wrong and received a wide-eyed Nothing in return,
Similar Books
