Chapter 21
“Goodness gracious, I forgot I had a doctor’s appointment this morning,” Monet moaned when she awakened at ten o’clock. She sprang out of bed and rushed into the bathroom, showered and dressed. After she put food and water out for Mitzi, she left the house and drove to Dr. Armstrong’s office in Chatham.
An hour later, she pulled her car into a parking space, got out of the car, and walked briskly to the two story building. The wind was high in Chicago, and seared her eyes. Monet walked inside the elevator and pushed the button for the second floor. The elevator seemed to take forever to climb one floor. She sighed and glanced at her watch. She was only running five minutes behind schedule. She exited the elevator and walked down the hallway to office 310. She pushed the door open and walked inside to the receptionist’s desk.
“Dr. Armstrong is running a little behind schedule,” Pat, the nurse/receptionist, notified Monet after instructing her to add her name to the sign-in sheet.
After she complied, she handed her insurance card to Pat, who made a copy of it and returned the card to her. As she took her seat, Monet noticed there were three patients ahead of her, in various stages of pregnancy.
She remembered when she saw the doctor for her yearly pap smear test, how envious she was of the doctor’s pregnant patients. She looked down at her abdomen and smiled. Then Monet pulled a paperback book out of her purse and began reading.
She was so engrossed in the book that Pat had to repeat her name a couple of times. Monet looked up at the receptionist. “Did you call me?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. The doctor can see you now.” Pat opened the door leading to the examination area. She walked beside Monet. “You’re in room C. So how have you been feeling?”
“Not bad,” Monet said, “The worst of the nausea seems to have passed.”
“Good,” Pat nodded her head. She weighed Monet and took her vitals. “You can put on the dressing gown. The doctor will be in to see you soon.”
“Thank you.” Monet quickly took off her clothing and put on the dressing gown. While she waited for the doctor, she resumed reading her book. She looked up when Dr. Armstrong walked into the room and quickly set the book on the chair where her clothing had been placed. “Hello, Dr. Armstrong,” she said, as she climbed back on the examining table.
“Hello, Monet. How are you feeling?” Dr. Armstrong she sat in a chair next to the table and quickly scanned Monet’s chart. “Your pressure is good, and you’ve gained fifteen pounds total; not bad.” She stood up and walked to the table. She told Monet to lie down, and then began her examination. When she was done, Dr. Armstrong told her she could sit up. “Everything seems fine, and the baby’s heartbeat is strong. Are you sleeping okay? What’s new with you?” she asked, as she made notations on Monet’s chart.
“Well, I think I felt the baby move yesterday,” Monet said shyly. “The sensation was a fluttering one in the pit of my stomach. Could I hear her heartbeat?”
“Sure.” Dr. Armstrong stood up and handed Monet her stethoscope. Then she sat back down. “You’re a nurse, so I don’t have to give you any instructions.”
Monet fumbled slightly as she put the earpieces in her ears. Then she placed the circular metal portion of the instrument on her belly. She rolled it over her belly until she heard the baby’s heartbeat. Her smile was as bright as a ray of sunlight. “Oh my, her heartbeat is so strong.” She took the stethoscope from around her neck and handed it back to Dr. Armstrong.
The doctor said, “I’d say you’re doing well. Are you drinking plenty of milk, taking your prenatal pills, and resting?” Monet nodded yes. Dr. Armstrong closed Monet’s file and looked at her. “When you finish dressing I’d like to talk to you in my office.” She stood up and closed the door behind her.
Monet felt apprehensive for a few minutes as her mind raced to figure out what the doctor might want to talk to her about. She rose from the examination table and got dressed. Ten minutes later, she sat in the brown chair in front of Dr. Armstrong’s desk, twisting the strap of her purse nervously.
The doctor leaned back away from her desk. “Let me put your mind at ease, I only want to schedule you for tests at the hospital. A blood workup, ultrasound test, and I’d like you to consider taking an amniocentesis.”
Monet looked upward, and then back at the doctor. “I have no problem with the blood workup or taking an ultrasound test. But are you scheduling the amniocentesis because you think something is wrong, or as a precaution?”
“Monet,” Dr. Armstrong said gently, “you’re forty-two years old. Granted, we haven’t had any issues, but because of your age, we still have to be proactive with your care. I just don’t want any surprises when it’s time for you to deliver.”
“I understand what you’re saying.” Monet nodded her head. “But I know the baby is fine. If there are any birth defects, and I know there aren’t, then I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“Actually new studies show that an amniocentesis can be administered in a mother’s third trimester of pregnancy at the discretion of a patient’s physician. I thought if we do the amniocentesis now, then we can run a DNA test at the same time. That might help put your husband’s mind at ease regarding the paternity of the child. Raising a child with birth defects isn’t easy.” Dr. Armstrong sat up erect in her chair.
“Regardless of the results of an amniocentesis or an ultrasound test, I’ll welcome my child into the world. I am not interested in learning the sex of the baby, I already know I’m having a girl,” Monet said imploringly, as she leaned forward in her chair.
“I understand,” Dr. Armstrong said soothingly. “I just wanted you to be aware of your options and what you might be facing.”
“You know what? My life might be in shambles right now. But as long as I have Jesus to lean on, and I do, then I’ll be fine. Is that it?”
“Yes, but I’d still like you to consider taking the amniocentesis.” Dr. Armstrong was aware that she had upset her patient. “How are things with you and Marcus? Any better?”
“No, not really. But hey, I’m making it.” Monet shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m not asking to get in your business or anything. Your mental state is just as important as your physical one. That’s all I’m getting at,” Dr. Armstrong said apologetically.
“No harm done. Since I’m a nurse, I understand what you’re saying. Actually, God has seen fit to bless me with a pair of wonderful friends and my brothers, which I consider my support system. They all make it their business to make sure I stay as upbeat as I can during the pregnancy. Liz, my best girlfriend, will attend Lamaze classes with me, so when the time comes I’ll be fine, whether Marcus comes around or not.”
“Great,” Dr. Armstrong said. “A support system is quite important at this time. My grandmother, bless her heart, had an old saying: A sad mother makes for a sad baby, so I try to do what I can to keep my mothers’ moods upbeat and positive.”
“I appreciate your efforts,” Monet said meekly. “I just get a little cranky sometimes. It must be my hormones.” She and the doctor shared a laugh.
“Well, I’ve written a prescription for vitamins, and I’ve also given you paperwork for the amniocentesis test, ultrasound procedure, and the lab workup. Do whatever you feel is best.” Dr. Armstrong handed Monet three pieces of paper.
She stood up and said, “Okay, I’ll see you when? In three weeks?”
Dr. Armstrong looked up. “Make your next appointment with Pat for three weeks, and by that time I should have all the lab results back. It’s time for me to see my next patient.”
Monet nodded as she put the papers inside her purse. She waved good-bye and said, “I’ll see you next time.” She stopped at the reception desk and made her next appointment. As she was walking to her car, Monet decided to have lunch at a neighborhood café before returning home.
When Monet arrived at her house, she let Mitzi out in the backyard so she could get some exercise. She hung up her coat in the hall
closet, and then returned to the kitchen, picked up the cordless phone, and made an appointment for her lab work at the hospital. She turned the paperwork for the amniocentesis over and over in her hand. Then she stuffed it back into her purse. She felt the test was a waste of time, and she wasn’t going to have it done.
She let Mitzi back in the house, and the tiny dog followed Monet upstairs to the bedroom. Monet removed her shoes, pulled back the comforter, and lay in the bed. Within minutes, she was asleep with a Mona Lisa smile on her face.
The ringing telephone interrupted her nap. Liz called to see how her doctor’s appointment had gone. Monet told her, and then explained about her misgivings with taking an amniocentesis. Liz agreed with her decision, since it didn’t affect her pregnancy one way or the other. Liz told Monet she had a meeting and would call her back later.
Just as Monet hung up the cordless phone and laid her head on the pillow, the telephone rang again. Her manager at the hospital, Angela Sullivan, usually called her Monday afternoons to see how she was feeling. So far Monet hadn’t told anyone at work about her pregnancy, and decided to test the waters and see what Angie’s reaction would be.
When Monet requested an extension of her leave of absence, she told St. Bernard that she still hadn’t fully recovered from the attack. Upper management approved the extension and told Monet to come back when she felt ready. Angie had assured Monet that there would always be a place for her at the maternity ward.
She removed the cordless phone from the base, peered at caller ID and clicked it on. “Hello, Angie,” she greeted her manager.
“Hi, Monet. How are you doing?” Angela asked.
“I’m good. How is everyone there doing?” Monet missed working at the hospital.
“We’re all doing well. Everyone told me to tell you hello and that they’re thinking about you.”
“Tell everyone I said hello. How are the babies?” Monet asked.
“We had six births since I last talked to you. One is a very tiny preemie. She weighs a little over a pound, so she’ll be with us for a while. And Cydney Mitchell brought little Ashley in to see us last week. She has gained a lot of weight. Ashley is a pretty little thing and feisty.” Angela laughed.
“I remember how her tiny arms would flail, and she’d kick her legs when we had to insert an IV into her.” Monet joined in Angela’s laughter. “Well, I’m glad to hear that she’s doing well.”
“Successes are always good. Cydney sends her love and gratefulness to you,” Angela informed.
“I was only doing my job,” Monet replied modestly. She looked across the room at Mitzi. The dog stood up, arched her back, and shook her body as if she were stretching. Then she laid back down in her corner of the room.
“So when do you think you’ll come back to work?” Angela asked, as she did every week.
“Not for at least another four plus months,” Monet answered. She couldn’t keep a smile from her face.
“Hmmm, four months? That’s a nice round number. Is there anything significant about six months?”
“Angie, I’m pregnant,” Monet answered shyly. Her tongue seemed to glide over the word pregnant. Her eyes fell to her midsection, and she patted it.
“Wow.” Angela’s mouth dropped open. She, like most of the staff in the department, was aware of how much Monet wanted a baby. “Congratulations, Monet,” she said awkwardly. She did the math in her head and deduced her employee’s baby was conceived around the time of the rape.
“Thank you, Angie,” Monet said quietly. She had almost gotten used to the lack of enthusiastic responses when she announced that she was pregnant.
“How are you feeling? I guess since you’ve passed the first trimester you must be sighing with relief,” Angie added to the stagnant conversation.
“Yes, I am, as well as being grateful to God,” Monet commented.
“Marcus was here a couple of weeks ago investigating a case, and he never said a word. So how is he taking the news?” Angela asked curiously.
“He was surprised to say the least,” Monet replied casually. “I think he’d given up hope that we’d ever have a child.”
“So which do you prefer, a girl or boy?” Angela queried. She sensed no more information would be forthcoming about Marcus.
“Like most mothers, I want a healthy baby. But I already know our baby is a girl,” Monet answered succinctly.
“Well, Monet, I’m happy for you. I know you’ve always wanted a baby. You’ll have to come by and see us when you feel up to it. I’ll be sure to share the news with the staff. That’s okay with you, isn’t it?”
“That’s fine.” Monet nodded. Then she speculated how Marcus would feel about her telling people her news. She dismissed the thought, rationalizing she couldn’t keep the secret forever. After all, her pregnancy was becoming more evident every day.
The two women conversed a few more minutes before hanging up, after promising to talk to each other the upcoming week.
Monet stretched her arms over her head. Since sleep wasn’t on her agenda any longer, she went downstairs to get a glass of milk. She walked into the kitchen, took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and poured herself a full glass. She drank the milk, put the glass in the sink, and walked into the den. She sat on the sofa and mulled over her conversation with Angela.
She thought the conversation overall had gone fair, and prayed aloud to her Heavenly Father. “Lord, I guess not everyone is going to see things the way I do, and I have to accept their opinion. I know that Faith is my and Marcus’s child. Thank you for bringing Liz and Wade into our lives years ago. They have been the angels you sent to help us along the way. Lord, I will lean on you, my rock of Gibraltar.”
Psalm 22 came to mind, and Monet shut her eyes tightly and recited the words. “My soul waits only upon God; for my expectation is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation; He is my deference, I shall not be moved. In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge is in God.” An old gospel song Monet’s mother used to hum came to her mind: “Jesus Is A Rock In A Weary Land.”
It was now close to four o’clock, and Monet was at odds as to what to do with the remainder of her day. She picked the remote control off the table, turned on the television, and channel surfed for a few minutes. She turned to WLS and watched the news.
When the news went off, she stroked her chin, remembering the letter her mother had written to her. Monet left the den and went upstairs to her bedroom. She walked to her nightstand and pulled the letter out of the top drawer. She walked back to the attic, sat in her mother’s rocking chair, and opened the letter.
Chapter 22
A little after one o’clock on the day of Monet’s doctor appointment, Marcus and Wade were on their lunch break. While Wade went into a greasy spoon to get hot dogs, Marcus reached into the glove compartment and removed his cell phone and the slip of paper that had the telephone number to Dwight Prison, the facility where Aron Reynolds was incarcerated. He looked at the paper, opened his phone, and punched in the numbers. After being transferred a couple of times, Marcus finally spoke to the warden’s secretary, Levi Smith.
“My name is Marcus Caldwell. I’m a detective with the Chicago Police Department, and I’d like to make an appointment with Warden Jones,” he stated.
“What is this regarding?” Levi asked, in a bored tone of voice.
“It’s about my father-in-law, Aron Reynolds,” Marcus explained “He’s due to be released from there soon, and he called and asked me if I’d help him wade through the red tape. I wanted to get a feel for Aron’s personality and his behavior since he’s been there.”
Levi scrawled the name Aron Reynolds on a notepad in loping letters. “Give me your number, I’ll make some inquiries and call you back,” he said.
Marcus recited his cell number to Levi. By the time he ended the call, Wade had returned to the car. Marcus returned his cell phone to the glove compartment as Wade got in the vehicle.
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sp; “Did we get any calls from the station? Is anything happening?” Wade asked.
“No, not yet,” Marcus said. He took his chili dog and fries out the brown bag that Wade had placed on the floor, and set it in front of him on the dashboard. Wade passed him a can of Coke.
Wade looked at Marcus disgustedly. “I know Monet’s been cooking since she’s not working. All this food is going to do is harden your arteries and send you to an early grave.”
“I work out; I’m okay,” Marcus said, pointedly looking at the pouch that circled Wade’s stomach.
“Now, you’re just plain wrong,” Wade admonished as he took a ham and cheese sandwich out of the bag for himself. The men munched on their food, and for a time there was a sense of camaraderie between them like before Monet’s assault.
Wade finished eating first and wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin. “So what’s happening with you?” he asked.
Marcus explained about Monet’s father’s request, and Wade listened intently. When he finished talking, Wade’s eyebrows rose skeptically.
“What does Monet and her brothers make of this?” he asked.
“I think Monet and Duane are curious, and Derek is being Derek. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with his father. I’d like to check out their father, Aron Reynolds, myself. Who knows? Maybe there’s a connection between him and Monet’s assault.”
“I don’t think so,” Wade replied dubiously. He put the napkin in the paper bag and swallowed more Coke.
“You know people can find out whatever information they want in the joint. Maybe Aron angered someone who had access to his records. Nothing is impossible when it comes to a criminal’s mind. All I know is that I can’t leave any stone unturned.” Marcus said stubbornly. He put his last french fry in his mouth and chewed.
Wade held up his hands. “I understand. So where are you going from here?”
“Well, the warden’s secretary is going to call me back. If things stay quiet at the precinct, which you truly can’t predict in a city the size of Chicago, then I’d like to ride out to Dwight Correctional Facility this week or early next week. I’ll run the request by the chief,” Marcus said.
Faith Page 17
