“Well, here we examine patients weekly once they’re as far along as you are.”
“I see.”
“Now, I notice that you are showing surprisingly little for someone as progressed as you are.”
“Which has been a blessing until now.”
“Yes, I can understand that. But, have you had difficulty eating, keeping foods down?”
“I haven’t much appetite lately, but I do try to eat.”
“All right. Now I do need to do a physical exam. To start, I will auscultate you.”
“Pardon me?”
“Sorry. Listen to your heart.”
He tapped the tall table. “Please, have a seat here.”
She complied and sat as straight as she could, rearranging her skirts around her, self-conscious of her bulging middle, her plain dress, her hair escaping its practical pinning. She had a sudden flash of memory, of peering through the keyhole as a young girl and seeing Dr. Webb lying over her mother’s body, head on her chest. Charlotte had been quite shocked and had burst into the room, ready to defend her mother’s honor.
“What are you doing?” she’d cried, her affront ringing in the room. Dr. Webb sat up quickly, stunned at her outburst. But mother only smiled gently. “It’s all right, my dear. Dr. Webb is only listening to my heart, to see if the old thing is still working.”
Understanding dawned on the man’s kind face and he, too, smiled gently at her. “Come here, if you like, Charlotte. Would you like to listen to your mother’s heart?”
She nodded, all seriousness, and walked to the bed. She sat beside Dr. Webb and laid her ear on her mother’s bosom.
“A bit higher—there. Do you hear it?”
Charlotte had closed her eyes and listened, and there, a dullta-toom, ta-toom, ta-toom. “I hear it!” she’d declared proudly, relieved in more ways than one.
As delightful as the memory was, when Charlotte imagined Dr. Taylor pressing his head toherchest, her palms began sweating.
From his case, he extracted a wooden tube, a device she had never seen before.
“A physician friend of my wife’s made this. He’s still working to perfect the design. Still, it’s amazing how much better I can hear with this simple tube than I can with my ear alone.”
He stepped closer and bent near. He looked into her face. “It also lends a bit of propriety, which patients seem to appreciate.” He lifted one side of his mouth in an awkward grin, then bent to his task. Charlotte took a deep breath and held it, aware of his nearness, aware of the strangeness of the situation—to be alone with Daniel Taylor, unchaperoned, so close to him—all of which would be highly inappropriate in any other setting. She felt the tube press against her chest, just above her left breast, and she involuntarily started. The device was not terribly long, so he had to bring his head to within six or seven inches of her body to listen. She released a ragged breath and drew in a shallow one in return, finding it difficult to breathe.
“Fine. Now I will attempt to hear the heart of the fetus as well. Has the babe been active?”
“Yes, quite.”
He pressed the tube with firm pressure against her abdomen and listened intently. He repositioned it slightly and listened again. “There he is.” He listened a moment longer. “Strong and steady.”
Charlotte smiled. “Do you call all unborn babes ‘he’?”
“I don’t know. Don’t think so.”
“I do think it is a boy. Just a feeling I have. I suppose all ladies in confinement say such things?”
“Yes, and they are often right.”
“Are they?”
He grinned. “About half of the time.” Then his grin faded. “Well, next I would normally palpate the”—he waved his hands over her abdomen—“uh ... area. And examine ... other areas as well.” He swallowed, “However, I think, considering your general health and the quickening of the babe, that this has been sufficient for today.” He stepped back, and Charlotte slumped a bit on the table, relieved.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Dr. Taylor leapt eagerly to answer it. Charlotte couldn’t see whom he spoke with through the partially opened door, but she could hear much of the muted conversation.
