feeling?”
“Sore,” I say. “A little bit
sick to my stomach.”
He pushes his glasses up on his nose. “All
very normal reactions,” he says. “But I would like to
talk to you in private for a few minutes, if your family doesn’t
mind.”
“If this is regarding her injuries, I’d
like to hear what you have to say,” my mother tells him.
Dr. Mallory clears his throat and lowers the
clipboard to his side. “I’d really prefer to talk to
Penny privately first,” he says. “She could really use
some more rest, anyway.”
“Of course,” Dad says. He releases his
tight grip on the rails, then pats my leg as he walks toward the
door.
Mom kisses my forehead. “We’ll be
right outside in the waiting room,” she says. “Hopefully
we can take you home soon.”
“It shouldn’t be too much longer,”
the doctor says.
He waits by the door as Preston, Mom, and Dad all
file out. Then, he closes it behind them and even watches through the
tiny window to make sure they’ve gone.
Worry knots in my stomach. What could be so awful
that he wouldn’t want to say it in front of my parents?
Dr. Mallory pulls up a rolling chair, then sits
down by my side. I sit up and he stuffs an extra pillow behind my
back.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod. “Am I dying?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Far from
it,” he says. “Other than a few scrapes and bruises, your
injuries are really very minor compared to the severity of the crash.
We can have a plastic surgeon take a look at the cut on your jaw if
you’d like, but I don’t think it will scar too badly.”
I rest my hands on my lap, picking at the white
sheets that cover my legs. There’s a pulse monitor clamped on
my index finger and I tap it against the sheet.
“What’s wrong, then?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I just
wanted to let you know that as a precaution, the first responders
took a blood sample and ran a few tests. This is all standard
procedure, especially with young women. They often run a pregnancy
test just to ensure they don’t use any medications or
treatments that might adversely affect an unborn baby.”
I look up at him, my hands clutching the sheet and
my heart stopping in my chest. The room seems to be spinning again,
and I blink several times.
“What are you saying?”
“Penny, I’m saying your test came back
positive,” he says. “You’re pregnant.”
Chapter Fifteen
I stare at Dr. Mallory, my body rigid. I couldn’t
have possibly heard him right.
I feel dizzy and press my lips together so tight
it hurts.
“Judging by the look on your face, I am
assuming you didn’t know,” he says. “I had a
suspicion you didn’t since you were drinking this evening.”
My mouth falls open and I raise my hand up to my
collarbone.
The world tilts as I try to make sense of all the
thoughts spinning through my head. I’m going to have a baby.
Mason’s baby. And I’ve been drinking. Tears pour silently
down my cheeks. I can’t seem to stop them from coming.
“Have I…” my breath hitches and
I can’t put a voice to my fears. If I’ve hurt this baby,
I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
“I’d like to have one of my nurses
come in and help me perform an ultrasound to make sure the baby is
okay,” he says. “Do you remember the date of your last
period?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. I have no clue.
“Maybe a month ago?” I say. “Maybe a little over?”
My periods aren’t always regular, so I’m
not sure and my head is now pounding too hard for me to think
straight.
“Do you mind if we roll a cart in here and
take a look? I just want to make sure everything looks okay. And
maybe we can get a better idea of how far along you are.”
I swallow, but my mouth is so dry a lump seems to
stick my throat.
“I don’t want my parents to know,”
I say. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
In such a small town, gossip spreads faster than a
wildfire. Get the wrong nurse in here or the wrong person looking
Steve Turner
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Michael Wallace