“Hey, Dr. Wakely. Are you feeling okay?”
I straightened from where I’d bent over a file drawer. It was only with the greatest of effort that I kept from rolling my eyes as my office manager called out her question.
Earlier today, I’d had a brief meeting with my staff and announced my pregnancy. I knew it was time; so far, I’d avoided morning sickness, but the fatigue was definitely real, and I didn’t want to have to make up excuses for why I’d be going home right after my last appointment of the day.
Plus, of course, there was the fact that before too long, the bump that was beginning to emerge wouldn’t be easily hidden under my clothes.
To say that they were shocked was an understatement. Mariana, my office manager, Gina, the assistant manager, and Cathy, my new nurse practitioner, weren’t quite sure what to say or ask first.
I’d forestalled some obvious questions with a blanket statement. “As far as the baby’s father—he’s no one you know. He’s not local. I’d prefer not to discuss him. I’ll say that we’re friends, and he’s a good guy—and let’s leave it at that.” I’d hesitated. “And . . . I’m super nervous about being a mother. I don’t have the first clue what to expect or how to act, so I’ll appreciate any advice you three experienced moms can pass my way.”
At that, all three women had relaxed and begun chatter about their pregnancies, labors, and deliveries. I listened as long as I could stand it before it was time to begin office hours. And I’d breathed a sigh of relief that the whole thing had gone better than I’d hoped.
But then I noticed all day that my office staff was watching me almost covertly, and they were all so solicitous.
“Oh, don’t reach up for that box, Dr. Wakely. Let me get it.”
“Why don’t you sit down, Alison, and let me take this next patient?”
“Dr. Wakely, did you eat lunch? It’s more important than ever now to make sure you get three balanced meals each day.”
It took all of my effort not to remind them that I was a doctor, for crying out loud, and I knew what I was doing. I reminded myself that they fussed because they cared, and wasn’t it sweet that they felt that way? But as someone who wasn’t at all used to this kind of attention, I found it more than a little disconcerting.
Now I pasted on a smile. “Thanks, Mariana. I’m fine.” I noticed that she had her handbag and raincoat over one arm. “Are you heading home now?”
“Well, I was thinking I would unless you needed me to stay to help you close up.” She eyed me meaningfully. “It’s getting dark. You must be tired. Why don’t we lock up and call it a day?”
I wanted to respond to her crisply, reminding her that I was the doctor, the owner of this practice, and I was fully capable of knowing when it was time to go home. Before I could, though, a huge yawn just about split my face, and a wave of fatigue broke over me.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agreed meekly. “I’ll just go grab my bag. Guess I’ll take this file home with me tonight.”
“Don’t you have it on your tablet?” Mariana asked as we clicked off lights in the file room and back hallway. It was a reasonable question, as this office had been digitalized for several years.
“Not this one. Mrs. Horton’s been a patient here for so long that some of her older records didn’t make it onto her electronic file. I just want to take a look and check on a few things.” I slid the folder into my leather briefcase. “You can go ahead, Mariana, if you don’t want to wait.”
“No, I don’t mind.” She favored me with a beatific smile, and I knew she wasn’t going to give in on this.
Together we made sure everything was turned off, locked up, and ready to close for the day. Mariana set the alarm while I pulled out my keys to lock the front door. In the parking lot, we both waved good-night and climbed into our respective cars.
And here, I thought, is where our paths diverge. Mariana was going home to her husband, who was a retired police captain, and her two teenage sons. Her house would be loud and filled with noise and the aroma of dinner cooking—she’d told me many times that since her husband’s retirement, he’d taken over the cooking.
My house, on the other hand, would be silent and empty. I’d force myself to put together a decent meal—I’d been making more of an effort there since I’d learned I was pregnant—and I’d sit down in front of the television to eat it by myself. It was highly likely that I’d end up falling asleep on the couch after I ate. I’d wake up later, sweaty and disoriented, and then I’d drag myself upstairs to my cold and lonely bed.
“Well, aren’t we feeling cheery tonight?” I grumbled to myself as I started up my car to make the short drive home. “Buck up, little soldier. Enjoy the peace and solitude while you have it because, in about six months, you’ll be wishing for the time and quiet to watch TV.”
But I didn’t really think that was true. As much as I was trepidatious about motherhood, part of me was gradually becoming excited about the prospect of being part of a family. Sure, we’d be non-traditional, just the two of us living in the house I was slowly but surely turning into a comfortable home. And it was true that the baby wouldn’t exactly be stellar company at first. But I’d be busy, I’d be loved, and I’d be needed.
Two out of those three things were foreign concepts to me. I couldn’t wait to experience them.
When I pictured that vague and fuzzy future that I’d classified to myself asafter the baby comes, I didn’t see anyone else with us. Noah wasn’t there. Oh, maybe he was off-stage, a presence that my child and I mentioned now and then but rarely saw. After my little talk with my baby daddy yesterday, I didn’t have a whole lot of great expectations about how involved he planned to be in our baby’s life. Maybe that was slightly unfair—after all, I’d dropped a bombshell on him, and he hadn’t had much time or space to react other than as he had—but still.
Once at home, I’d just kicked off my shoes and was standing in the kitchen, staring into the fridge as though a delicious, healthy gourmet meal might magically appear there, when I heard a sound on my front porch, followed shortly by a knock on the door.
I frowned, wondering who might be here at this time in the evening. Most solicitors stopped by earlier in the day, and I wasn’t expecting packages or deliveries. Emma or Darcy never stopped without calling first, and I didn’t really know anyone else in town who’d feel comfortable with a surprise visit.
Armed with the caution of a single woman living alone, I crept to the door and peered through the security peephole into the darkness. When I saw a familiar face on the other side, I jerked my head back as though he might see me, too.
For a moment, I toyed with the idea of letting Noah stand out there and ring the bell for half an hour, the same way he’d treated me. But that was neither mature nor productive, so with a quick brush of my hand over my hair and a deep breath, I unlocked the door.
