There was one place in particular she wanted to revisit, over and over again.
The Beguine convent. There was a sense of peace within the grounds that took her breath away. The moment they crossed the huge doors into the garden area, she felt it. The quiet. The stillness. It eased her heart, filled her with warmth, and all she wanted to do was sit among the yellow daffodils and just be.
The square garden was surrounded by a group of white buildings. A few of the doors were open, and if you were nosy enough to look in, you would find nuns going about their day.
She wanted to draw the scene, color in the flowers, the trees, shade in the houses . . . maybe one day she would. She knew Josh had taken quite a few photos of the gardens and homes, even of a nun as she walked along the pathways. Perhaps she’d work on a drawing tonight in her sketchbook. She should try to find an art-supply shop, since her sketchbook was almost full.
“So we’ve seen the Madonna and Child and now the convent. What else would you like to do today?” Josh held her hand as they stopped on a bridge and smiled down at the boats full of tourists passing beneath them.
“Let’s just get lost.” Claire shoved the small map into her handbag. “I want to grab a postcard to leave on the board at the hotel—leave our own little touch to add to the quaintness. Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll come back when we’re old and gray and find it still there among the others. After that, we can find a pub or restaurant, sip on some Belgian beer, listen to local musicians . . . let’s just get lost. For a moment.”
“For an hour,” Josh said.
“For the rest of the day.” Claire smiled up at him. She wasn’t burdened with sadness. Her heart was light and happy, and that’s how it should be. They were in this amazing medieval town full of history, and they should be enjoying it rather than living in the past.
She breathed in deeply.
She would live in the moment. If only for today.
EIGHTEEN
CLAIRE
Present day
Curled in her large reading chair in her office, Claire doodled in the margins of her notebook and reread the last page she’d just written.
She’d woken up this morning, headache-free for the first time in over a week, and went right to work. Josh was out for the day running errands, so she had the house to herself, which was liberating. For the first time in a long time there wasn’t someone hovering over her, making sure she was okay.
She was more than okay, and she wished people would start believing her.
Armed with coffee and fresh fruit, Claire had completed two designs for the latest Jack book and then decided it was time to start her own project. She couldn’t believe she was really doing this.
She reread the lines she’d written and wondered how Josh did this day in and day out. How did he come up with words that not only encouraged children to want to read but that also engaged their imagination at the same time?
This wasn’t a Jack book. It couldn’t be. She wanted to write a story about a little girl named Zoe or Lilly or Rose or something else. She couldn’t decide on a name. It had to be perfect, something that would make a lasting impression. But coming up with that perfect name for a character was proving to be just as difficult as coming up with a name for their own baby.
Josh’s most recent suggestion was Zara or Tyrone.
Again, not the perfect name.
“Who are you in there, little one?” Claire rubbed her belly and thought about all the names Josh had added to his list so far. He didn’t want to know the sex. He would prefer to be surprised, but not Claire. She wanted to know. She needed to know.
She thought, or at least hoped, it would be a girl. A daughter she could dress up in pretty outfits with ribbons in her hair, a little girl who could wrap her daddy around her finger, a beautiful angel to melt the hearts of everyone with her sweet smile.
This wasn’t a do-over for her. It wasn’t a way for her to make amends or to fill a hole in her heart after giving away her little boy. If she had a boy, she worried she’d search for the same look in his eyes that her son had, for the familiar twist of his mouth when he yawned, or the little dimple in his chin.
That wouldn’t be fair to Josh or this baby.
Claire rubbed the back of her neck as a headache formed. She groaned as she kneaded a tight area and wondered how long she could go before needing Tylenol. She was really starting to hate these headaches, hated the constant dull throb she woke to and the piercing pain that grew sharper throughout the day. She tried not to complain though, knowing if this was the only drawback to being pregnant, she was doing pretty well. At least she could eat when she was hungry, and she didn’t have the nausea most complained about.
She looked down at the words she’d written.
When xxx (note to self: need the perfect name, but don’t ask Josh) dreamed, it was of castles and unicorns and tiny little fairies that tickled her toes so she would laugh. Her laughter was magical, and the little fairies needed her magic.
Something about her idea was off. Why did she have to be dreaming? Why couldn’t the little girl she wrote about actually live in a land where her laughter was really magical?
Claire tapped her pen against the notebook and thought this through. In her mind, she could see the drawings to go with the story—castles with turrets that glittered with pink diamonds and unicorns that flew through the sky. She could picture Josh reading their daughter the story and stopping to tickle her toes so their little girl would laugh, just like in the story.
Claire leaned back in the chair, gently rotating her head to work out a kink in her neck, and then she smiled.
Claire set the notebook aside and made her way to the baby’s room, where she’d left the journal Josh had bought her. Each day she would add more items to her bucket list as they occurred to her, and she had no doubt she’d run out of lines in the journal before their baby arrived. Maybe she should start a yearly bucket list with the baby in mind—things to do before she turned one and then two and so on. That might be a better idea and keep things cleaner.
Her doorbell rang, and before she was halfway down her stairs, she heard the door open then close and her mother calling out to her.
“Don’t get up. I’m only dropping by to leave you some fresh fruit salad.” Millie almost jumped when she reached the steps and caught sight of Claire.
“Too late,” Claire said. She took the bowl from Millie and headed into the kitchen. “Thanks for the fruit salad. I’m craving kiwi and strawberries. Please tell me there’s kiwi and strawberries in here.” She smiled at her mom before opening the lid and popping a berry into her mouth.
“Gloria even sent along a little container with extras in case she didn’t add enough in there.” Millie pulled out a small food-storage container from her purse and put it in the fridge.
“I’ll have to thank her tonight.” Claire pulled a fork out of the drawer and began to eat the salad, suddenly starving.
“Dinner plans?”
“I hope so. Josh won’t be home till later, and I really don’t feel like cooking. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve been there, and now I have an excuse.” She continued to scarf down the fruit salad and was amazed at how delicious it tasted.
“How are you feeling today?” Millie filled up the teakettle and set it on the stove. Claire assumed this meant her mom was here for a visit.
“Not too bad. Not as tired, which is great.”
“Headache again?” Her mom turned on the hot water tap and rinsed out the teapot that sat on the counter.
“Right now, yes, but when I woke up, no. It was nice not to wake up to a jackhammer in my brain the moment I moved.” She could already see where this conversation was headed, because no doubt it would be the same thing Josh and Abigail had been telling her.
“I don’t think these headaches are normal, Claire. How is your vision? You should go in and see Abigail about them.” Millie set the teapot down, now full of hot water, and waited for the
teakettle to boil.
Millie liked to make tea in a specific way, and Claire loved it. She’d been thrilled when they stayed at the Blossom Lane Bed and Breakfast in London and realized her mother made tea correctly.
“What does my vision have to do with my headaches?” She was fine. Why wouldn’t people believe her? Just yesterday she’d read that headaches were quite common for pregnant women.
“I’m serious,” her mother reiterated. “Why don’t you call the clinic now and see if she can see you. I’ll drive you in.”
“I’m okay right now, but thank you.” Claire reached for the small bottle of pills she kept on the counter and shook two into the palm of her hand.
“If you don’t, I will.” Millie, her lips a fine line, eyed Claire while she swallowed the pills.
“It’s just a headache. I wish everyone would leave me alone about them.”
All Millie did was arch her eyebrow and give her that look, the one that said, Who do you think you’re fooling?
“I had headaches before, if you remember.”
Millie shook her head firmly and looked away.
Claire sighed. “Fine. I’ll call.”
“Thank you.” Millie handed her the phone and waited for her to dial.
Claire rolled her eyes. Rebecca answered and told her Abigail was completely booked. Claire started to ask about tomorrow, but Rebecca surprised her and said Dr. Shuman could see her. Normally Dr. Shuman was the one booked, being a town favorite for young and old alike.
Millie was thrilled. She grabbed her keys and bustled Claire out of the house faster than she’d ever seen her mother move before.
“If anyone will know what is going on, it’s Dr. Shuman.” Millie reached over and squeezed Claire’s hand. “Soon, everything will be okay.”
Claire reached for a strawberry lollipop on Dr. Shuman’s desk. Some things never changed, much like his office. Ever since she was a child, he’d served as the town’s main family physician until their hospital was built and more doctors arrived. He maintained his small clinic on the outskirts of downtown, and then Abby joined him. Other than a half-full jar of lollipops and a notepad of paper, his desk was spotless. She didn’t think she’d seen him with a messy desk, ever. His walls were full of pictures drawn by his patients, both children and adults, on the notepad he kept on his desk.
While waiting for him, Claire reached for the notepad and the pencil beside it and began to draw. There were already a few of her drawings on his wall, but she couldn’t help herself.
By the time he arrived, she’d not only drawn her picture but she’d added it to the wall, mixed in with other squares.
She rather liked her drawing today.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw your mother out there. Reminds me of when you were just a little girl in pigtails. And now you’re about to have your own.” Dr. Shuman shook his head. “Time certainly flies by, doesn’t it?”
“Who would have thought Millie would still be dragging me in to see you?” She smiled while he sat on the corner of his desk, her file held in his hands.
“Who indeed? Must be pretty serious for you to be so stubborn. But then, you always did hate coming in to see me.” His left eyebrow rose.
“I just don’t like doctors’ offices, that’s all.” Claire shrugged.
“So what brings you in today, then?”
“My headaches. Abigail told me to come in if they got worse.”
Dr. Shuman moved to his chair behind his desk and opened her file.
“How often do you get them?”
“Daily. It’s rare I don’t have one, actually.”
“Do you have one now?” He scribbled in her file.
Claire nodded. “Just starting. Today was probably the first time in the past few weeks I didn’t wake up with one.”
He sat back in his seat. “What are you taking for them and how much?”
“Tylenol, extra strength, and Abigail told me only six a day, if necessary.” She couldn’t look him in the eye.
“I didn’t ask how many Abby told you to take, now did I?” He took off his glasses and held them in his hand.
She winced. “When it turns into a migraine, I can take up to eight or ten pills. Well . . . I could take more but—I’m also drinking tea. Lots of tea.”
“Tea is good. You have a baby to take care of now. You need to think about what you do, what you eat or take, and how it affects that little one inside of you.”
Claire hung her head but then looked up and smiled. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” she said.
Dr. Shuman nodded. “Pretty amazing. I helped deliver you, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be in that room with Abigail to see this little one too. I’ll need to add your photos to my family wall.”
One of the clinic’s walls was full of photos of babies being held by either Dr. Shuman or Abigail. It was a wall the clinic was very proud of, and Claire couldn’t wait to have her little one on there too.
“Other than your headaches, any other symptoms? Are you still tired? How about your appetite? Getting any morning sickness?” The look on her old doctor’s face was quite serious.
“Exhausted, but not as bad as before. I’m not really all that nauseated either, but that’s a good thing, right?” She bit her lip.
“There’s old wives’ tales that the sicker you are, the healthier the baby, but your own mother is a prime example that’s not always the case. You’re not worried, are you?” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together.
“What about the headaches? I never got them before this, so could it just be . . . ?” Her voice trailed.
“Pregnancy hormones?” he asked.
She nodded.
“It’s possible. You’re starting the second trimester, and it is quite common . . .” He hesitated as he looked over her file. “Your blood work looks fine. Abigail has left a note here, though, that she’s concerned about your headaches.” He sighed and leaned back. “I’d like to send you for an MRI.”
That caught Claire off guard. “An MRI? For headaches? Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme? Is that harmful to the baby?”
Dr. Shuman stood up and walked toward her, taking a seat on the corner of his desk again.
“There are studies that show MRIs are completely safe during pregnancies. Nothing for you to be worried about. I’ll have Rebecca set it up.” He leaned forward and clasped her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Claire took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Everything was fine. Her baby was fine. She was fine.
She took out her phone, her hands shaking slightly, and sent her husband a text message.
At doctor’s for headaches. Millie dragged me here. Getting an MRI.
She knew Josh was out running errands, but she wasn’t sure where he was.
Do you need me? I can be there in ten minutes. Are you okay?
Was she okay? Great question.
She wasn’t one to get excited over the little things, but this didn’t feel so little. She glanced at her medical file sitting on the desk and pulled it toward her. The fact that Abby had left notes about her headaches bothered her.
On a sticky note, Abby had the following written down: Worsening headaches. If come in, do a scan. Safe.
Claire pushed the file back and tried to calm herself, but she jumped at the slight knock on the door.
“You okay in here?” Abby popped her head in.
Claire turned slightly in her chair and shook her head. She tried to answer but knew the moment she did, she’d start crying.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t fit you in, but I’m glad you’re here. I just heard Will ask Rebecca to get you an appointment at the hospital today for the MRI.” Abby stepped in and closed the door behind her. She squatted down so she was eye level with Claire and reached for her hands.
“I read your note.” Claire was proud of herself for not crying. “You’re worried about me?”
Abby’s grip tightened. “I’d rather
be safe than sorry. I’m not liking these headaches of yours.”
“But they’re normal for pregnant women.”
Abby shrugged. “I hope it’s just a hormonal thing, but let me just be a doctor right now, okay? We need to be sure.”
Claire looked up to the ceiling and let out a long breath. “So I shouldn’t be worried?”
Abigail stood up. “Tell you what, if it turns out to be nothing and it’s just hormones, I promise to throw you the absolute best baby shower anyone in this town has ever seen.”
“You’re going to do that regardless.” Claire managed to smile.
“True. Okay, how about I’ll throw you the best baby shower ever, and we’ll do the ultimate girlfriend weekend before you get too far along in your pregnancy?” She stuck her hand out.
“Fine.” Claire shook her hand. “But you also owe me your famous fried chicken for dinner. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” Abby’s voice rose. “Did I forget to mention my schedule is full all day, and I’ll be completely fried by the time I get home?”
“Don’t care. I’m the pregnant friend you’re stressing out. Fried chicken. Tonight.” Claire gave her a stern look.
Abby sighed. “Fine. If it means you’re eating, then I can’t complain. But it won’t be till after eight o’clock. And I expect you to bring wine and dessert. Maybe some pie from Sweet Bites?”
The door opened and Dr. Shuman walked in. “Abigail, you’re not bothering sweet Claire, now are you?”
Abby smiled. “Not at all. I just managed to finagle some pie out of my good friend there, that’s all. I’d better go. Mrs. Getschen is probably waiting for me to take a look at her bunions again.”
“Room five,” Dr. Shuman said. He held the door open and waited until it was just the two of them. “Now, Rebecca was able to work her magic, and they can get you right in. It’ll be completely painless. You’ll need to lie still for thirty to forty minutes, and then I should have the results within a few days.”
Saving Abby Page 13
