LITMIR.BIZ

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stomach was nagging again, probably from hunger, so she was relieved to see breadsticks on Karen’s table in a back corner. “I hope I’m not late.” In addition to the bread, small bottles of vinegar and oil topped the red-and-white tablecloth, Leah noticed as she sat down.

      Her friend regarded her over her menu. “I got here early.” Karen, who managed the Tulip Tree Nursing Home, had a passion for punctuality. Two years younger than Leah, she had a forthright manner and strong opinions.

      “Can you believe this crowd?”

      “It may get worse. Barry’s running shots of the murals in today’s Gazette, so if anybody didn’t know about the unveiling, they soon will.” The newspaper came out on Tuesdays.

      “I’ll stay away for a few days till things quiet down.” Leah studied her menu. “What are you having?”

      “I’m strongly tempted by the scampi. What do you think?” A reddish-brown curl fell across Karen’s cheek. She pushed it behind her ear.

      Usually, Leah relished scampi, but today the prospect of garlic butter put her off. “I’m more in the mood for spaghetti Bolognese.”

      “I thought you didn’t like that much meat.” In Pepe’s sauce, the ground beef nearly overwhelmed the tomato base.

      “Can’t a girl change her mind?” A waitress brought ice water, which Leah sipped gratefully, then Karen and Leah both ordered.

      She didn’t mention her indigestion to Karen. Leah had a natural reticence about discussing intimate matters, even with someone she’d been close to since grade school. She’d kept quiet about her plans to leave Downhome until shortly before her trip, and she hadn’t mentioned her insane one-night stand to anyone. Nor did she plan to.

      Besides, they had other things to talk about, including Jenni and Ethan’s wedding in two weeks. After they’d exchanged a few tidbits about that, Karen gave an update on the physician-search committee.

      They’d chosen an obstetrician from Texas named Dr. Rankin, who was due to arrive later this week. Leah recalled that he was the one who’d recommended the Wayward Drummer when Karen had asked on her behalf.

      She hoped the subject never came up, because she found her memories both painful and confusing. What she needed to do was chalk the experience up to a life lesson and move on.

      She returned her attention to her companion. Karen was describing a pediatrician who’d applied for the second opening at the clinic.

      “Beryl’s from St. Louis, a single mom. She has a thirteen-year-old son that she wants to remove from bad influences.” Karen selected a breadstick from the basket. “I am so glad she applied.”

      The previous candidates all fell short. A pediatrician from Wichita had barely retained his medical license after an arrest for smoking marijuana. Another applicant had turned out to be in questionable health.

      That left Dr. Chris McRay. Unlike his competitors, he’d grown up in Downhome, where he wanted to return to be near his grandmother. Leah had liked Chris in high school, but she would never mention it to Karen.

      Her friend couldn’t forgive Chris for testifying against her brother, Barry, in a manslaughter case when both men were eighteen. His word had sent Barry to prison for five years for a crime he swore he hadn’t committed, and for which he believed Chris had framed him.

      It was a nasty business. Better by far to hire the lady from St. Louis.

      Karen had used up most of her lunch hour by the time they had finished eating. Although she ran the nursing home more or less independently for distant corporate owners, she rarely cut herself any slack, not even to linger at lunch. In addition to putting in a full week, she escorted residents on outings during her free time. Several had become good friends, including Chris’s grandmother, Mae Anne.

      “I guess we can’t have lunch again next week, can we?” Karen said. “You’ve got school starting Tuesday.”

      Leah took out her personal organizer. “How about a week from Saturday?”

      “Good! We can eat at the farmers’ market.” The monthly event was always fun.

      They set a time and place to meet, and split the bill. The lunch crowd was thinning by the time Karen departed.

      Still at the table, Leah glanced at her organizer. She kept getting the sense that she’d overlooked some key date in her preoccupation with traveling, preparing for school and arranging much-needed repairs to her roof. But she couldn’t imagine what it was.

      As she scanned the dates, it hit her. She’d missed her period.

      That couldn’t be right. Her periods had always been regular, and she kept track of them. Leah got a disoriented feeling, as in one of those dreams where she overslept an exam or paraded naked in public.

      She remembered being glad that her period had started in early July, before she left for Austin, because it meant she didn’t have to worry about it while traveling. Checking her digitized calendar, she noted that the next one had been due nearly three weeks ago, the same day the roofers arrived. That must be why she’d forgotten.

      She was three weeks late. Leah went cold.

      Grateful that she sat in the rear of the restaurant, shielded from most diners, she reviewed what had happened that night at the motel. Although Will had used condoms both times they made love, he’d begun without one.

      Still, it seemed unlikely she’d become pregnant from a single encounter. Leah had heard that most women tried for months before conceiving. Besides, traveling would throw a woman’s system out of whack.

      She ought to ignore the whole thing. In a few days—perhaps a week, on its regular schedule—her period would show up.

      A breadstick shredded in her hands. Annoyed at the evidence of her agitation, she dropped it on her plate.

      Then she thought of an even scarier possibility.

      Her mother had died of ovarian cancer, which often produced vague symptoms. Since not even regular checkups guaranteed an early diagnosis, Leah had vowed to seek help at the slightest sign of abdominal distress or general exhaustion. The first she definitely had, and she’d been sleeping more than usual, which she’d attributed to jet lag.

      She didn’t dare put this off. For privacy’s sake, perhaps she should contact a doctor in Mill Valley, but she’d started seeing Jenni as a patient and liked her. Also, the new doctor could be trusted to keep confidences.

      Suddenly, Leah couldn’t bear to wait another day. If Jenni wasn’t completely booked, maybe she could work in another patient this afternoon.

      One way or another, Leah had to learn the truth.

      The Home Boulevard Medical Clinic was a few blocks away. The one-story brick building had always seemed inviting, but today she had to force herself up the steps.

      In the waiting room, she said hello to one of her former students and the boy’s mother. “You aren’t sick, I hope?” the woman said.

      “No, no. Just a routine…visit.” She could hardly claim to have a checkup when she lacked an appointment, Leah realized.

      She felt more and more uncomfortable. Maybe she ought to leave and call a doctor in Mill Valley after all. Otherwise, she risked becoming the subject of speculation.

      Before she could retreat, the young receptionist spotted her. “Hi, Miss Morris!” Patsy Fellows said brightly. “Did you want Dr. Vine to work you in? She’s in the lunchroom, but she might have some time later.”

      Leah gestured toward the waiting patients. “She’s obviously busy.”

      “Oh, no, they’re here to see my mother.” Estelle Fellows, Ben’s wife and Patsy’s mom, worked as a nurse practitioner as well as the clinic’s business manager. “Hold on. Here’s Yvonne.”

      Yvonne

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