“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jane said again, the words automatic and meaningless.
“I’m not,” Pamela scoffed. “Good riddance. But even in death, he found a way to punish me.”
“For what?” Jane asked, curiosity piqued despite herself.
“He always blamed me for my mother’s death,” Pamela waved it off with her hand. “Having me sped up her disease, but she was adamant she was going to have me.”
“That’s rough,” Jane said, feeling a twinge of pity for her despite everything. “How’s he punishing you from the grave?”
“It’s not your problem,” Pamela told her sharply. “I’mworking it out.”
Jane nodded slowly. “So that’s it. That’s all I get. Your father was a mean man, and your mother died when you were young, and then you were raised by a woman your father married to be your new mom.”
“That’s my story in a nutshell,” Pamela told her. “Now, can we move on and...” She glanced at the door nervously. “Jane, there is so much more I need to talk to you about... but alone. This is... private.”
“Anything you say to me, you can say to Gabe,” Jane assured her, not wanting to be alone with Pamela. She was definitely up to something. Jane didn’t like the part about handling things her father was punishing her for from the grave. Something was brewing there, and Jane wanted no part of it.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Gabe came back in.
“Sorry,” Gabe apologized, walking into the room with a bag in his hand. As he stood beside Jane, she instinctively took his hand, drawing comfort from his presence. “I should’ve knocked.”
“You were gone so long,” Jane said.
“I had to call Trinity,” Gabe told her, holding up the bag. “There wasn’t a lot to eat in the cafeteria, so I went to the store across the street.”
Jane dropped his hand and took the bag, digging in eagerly. “You’re a star,” she muttered. “I’m starving.”
“You can’t eat just yet,” a nurse said, walking into the room witha clipboard. “We need to do the blood draw first, and you need to have an empty stomach for one of the tests.”
Jane sighed but handed the bag back to Gabe. “Save it for me?”
“Of course,” he said with a smile.
The next thirty minutes were a flurry of activity. Blood draws, vitals, and a brief physical examination. Jane answered what felt like hundreds of questions about her medical history, her family history, her symptoms, or lack thereof.
Finally, they were back in the consultation room, and the doctor walked in. He was a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a nervous demeanor that immediately put Jane on edge.
“Mrs. Evans,” he greeted her, then nodded to Gabe and Pamela. “Thank you for your patience. We’ve completed the preliminary tests, and we should have results in three to five business days.”
“That’s it?” Jane asked.
“Well,” the doctor glanced at Pamela, then at his clipboard. “There are some forms I need you to sign.”
Jane frowned. “I’ve already filled in my insurance details and signed consent for the tests.”
“This is...” The doctor looked stressed, and his eyes shot toward Pamela again. “This is something else and...”
“Can I see that?” Gabe stepped forward, his voice pleasant but hisposture alert.
“What are you?” Pamela gave a nervous laugh that set off alarm bells for Jane. “Her attorney?”
“I went to law school,” Gabe told her calmly. “But then again, you don’t have to have a degree to read forms you’re about to sign.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the doctor. “May I?”
“This is private, and they’re Jane’s,” Pamela objected, her voice rising slightly.
“I don’t mind,” Jane said quickly, her senses now on high alert. Why didn’t Pamela want Gabe to read the document?
“We just need your signature, and we can proceed,” the doctor said, holding the clipboard against his chest as if to shield it.
