by Beth K. Vogt
She should stop talking. They’d already had one discussion about tonight, and she’d forced herself to swallow her protests, figuring this was all part of being married. Of being a believer.
While they’d sat in the car, two other couples had strolled up to the front door. Knocked. Been greeted with hugs, the faint sound of laughter drifting back toward the car.
As much as Payton wanted to go home, she didn’t want to embarrass Zach, forcing him to explain why they were no-shows for tonight.
“My wife? Yeah, she didn’t even know there was a book of Galatians. Kind of threw her for a loop, and I couldn’t get her out of our car.”
She could do this, especially since he’d said no one was grading her.
Payton released her seat belt, snugged her Bible under her arm, and opened the car door. “Let’s go.”
Zach remained seated, peering at her across the interior of the car. “What? Just like that, you’re ready?”
“Sure. Sorry.” She shivered in the night air. “I’m nervous about meeting new people. Just stick with me, okay?”
He was by her side in seconds, taking her hand, pretending to tip the brim of an invisible hat. “Happy to oblige, ma’am.”
Her laugh eased some of the tension that had built inside her. “That’s a lousy drawl, Zach.”
“But I made you laugh, so it was worth it.”
A petite woman with a stylish bob and warm brown eyes welcomed them, introducing herself as Sara. “Just add your coats to the pile on the bench and go on in to the family room.”
Zach’s friend and coworker Colin waved as he made his way over to them, his fiancée, Deanna, following close behind.
Zach greeted them. “I didn’t realize you were in the community group, buddy.”
“You mentioned you and Payton were coming, so I checked with Paul and he said they had room for one more couple. I convinced Deanna we should do it now that we’re an officially engaged couple, with a wedding date and registry, too. It’ll be fun.”
Again with the “fun” assurance.
“I’m looking forward to it.” Payton added the words sort of in her head. “I—I’ve never done a Bible study before.”
“Really? Well, Sara and Paul are great.” Deanna moved closer to Payton. “They’ve mentored so many couples in the church.”
“Oh?”
“They’ve agreed to do our premarital counseling.” Deanna slipped her arm through Colin’s. “Did you and Zach do that before you got married?”
“No. We got married so quickly, we skipped that.”
“Paul and Sara discuss things like finances and in-laws and children—just laying a good foundation, you know?”
“Sure.”
“I mean, it’s not a mandatory requirement—or like you and Zach are going to have problems because you didn’t do premarital counseling. I’m sure you two will be fine.”
How had she missed the memo on premarital counseling?
Sure, they’d met with Zach’s pastor once when they’d decided to get married, but that wasn’t the same thing. Apparently it also wasn’t the “right” thing.
Paul interrupted the steady flow of conversation with a short, sharp whistle.
“Sorry, folks. I know everyone’s having a great time chatting, but my wife wants me to call this evening to order. First, she wanted me to thank everyone who brought an appetizer or dessert—”
Wait . . . what? Everyone brought something to eat?
“—and now’s the time to go get something to eat and drink. It’s all laid out in the dining room. Then come back here and we’ll get started. Five minutes, okay?”
“Why didn’t you tell me we were supposed to bring something?” Payton kept her voice to a whisper so no one but Zach would hear.
“It’s no big deal. We can do it next week.”
“Were we supposed to do it this week?”
“Paul didn’t mention it. Maybe? I’m sure there’s plenty to eat.”
“Zach!”
“Ask Sara, okay?”
As the couples regrouped, everyone sat guy-girl-guy-girl, choosing places on the couch, love seat, or the chairs and creating an informal semicircle. Several stacks of softcover books sat on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Before we talk about the study, we thought we’d take some time to get to know one another better.” Paul balanced a paper plate of appetizers on his knee. “Of course, some of us know each other pretty well, but we’ll go around the room and hit the basics. Say how long you’ve been married—or for Deanna and Colin, tell us how long you’ve been dating and when your wedding is—what you do, and your favorite Bible character and why.”
As everyone laughed and started chatting among themselves, Payton stilled, her lips frozen in a smile. Her favorite Bible character? These people assumed she could just pull up a mental list of people in the Bible and pick one. Could she say Jesus? Or maybe Mary? Paul? He was a disciple . . . or an apostle . . . something like that.
It was only the first night of the Bible study and they were having a pop quiz. And she was going to fail it. Or sound so lame because she couldn’t come up with a better answer than Jesus.
Sweat dampened the armpits of her top. She might as well be warming up for a volleyball game. She needed to get through this evening—no walking off the court. Or walking out of the Bible study. She’d be brave.
Stupid and brave.
“I’m Sharon. Jordan and I have been married five years and I’m a stay-at-home mom, but I do have my own online business, but y’all know about that. King David is my favorite Bible character.” Sharon’s outfit looked like she’d taken it right off a store mannequin, down to the coordinated purple jewelry and shoes. “He’s a man after God’s own heart, and yet he’s not perfect. It challenges me that, even though I’m not perfect, I can be a woman after God’s heart, too.”
Everybody joined Zach in nodding in agreement.
“I’m Jordan, Sharon’s husband. We’ve been married five years—” The stocky man seated next to Sharon spoke up.
“I already said that, Jordan.”
“Oh, sorry.” Jordan’s face turned bright red. “I’m, um, in IT. My favorite character is Job because he taught me about persevering under trials and trusting God.”
Others in the room mentioned Daniel. Deborah—some woman in the Old Testament who was a judge? Rahab. Did any of these people even read the New Testament? Or was there some unwritten, unspoken rule that mature Christians read the Old Testament?
Payton was so busy trying to keep track of everyone’s favorite Bible character she had no idea of anyone’s name—except for Sharon and her blushing husband, Jordan. And only because they’d gone first.
Meanwhile, Zach attacked the mound of food on his plate—mini wontons and chips and guacamole and hot wings—nodding his head and mmm-hmmm-ing as the other people in the room seemingly talked through an encyclopedic list of Bible characters.
None of them mentioned Mary. Or Paul. Or Jesus.
Could she just repeat what someone else said, or would that be cheating?
This was like all those times in math class when she’d tried to count ahead to see which problem she might have to work on the board if the teacher went row by row, student by student. It never failed that she calculated wrong, or the teacher changed direction, and she wasn’t ready when it was her turn.
Everyone else was laughing. Agreeing with each other’s comments. Getting along. Enjoying themselves.
And all of this was proving what she’d known all along: She didn’t belong here.
By the time Zach introduced himself, Payton was tempted to whisper, “Excuse me” and go hide in the bathroom. But as if sensing her desire to flee, Zach took her hand, weaving their fingers together as he shared.
“My favorite Bible character is the Prodigal Son.”
Payton knew this. Knew his story.
“I was a prodigal for years. I know this is a story of a forgiving father, but
for me, I imagine myself as the son who sees his father waiting for him, watching for him, despite so many years . . .”
Oh, why hadn’t she gone first? Payton knew this wasn’t a competition. It shouldn’t be. But how was she supposed to follow that?
“I’m Payton. And like Zach said, we’re newlyweds.” Had Zach said how long they’d been married? “I’m a college student, believe it or not, and I help coach a volleyball team.”
People smiled and nodded. Surely someone else in the room played sports.
“My favorite Bible character . . . well, I know this probably sounds silly . . . but it’s Jesus.”
She waited for laughter. Nothing.
“I mean, that’s what the Bible is all about, right? Jesus. It’s His story. And I like when He tells stories . . .”
“Parables.” Zach’s comment was a half whisper.
“Right. The parables.” She stopped again and Zach squeezed her hand.
Paul spoke up, thanking everyone for sharing and then starting to talk about the study guides.
At least the focus was off Payton.
She’d figure this out, one question, one answer at a time.
After all, that’s how she’d found her way to God.
6
I WAS TIRED OF ALL the surprises in my life in the past few months. And now I’d ended up back in the same medical exam room as my first visit just over two weeks ago. Everything looked the same—except I’d managed to crack Dr. Gray’s calm demeanor.
“Ms. Thatcher, may I be frank and say I didn’t expect to see you again?” She hadn’t bothered to look at my chart on her open laptop. She trained all her attention on me. “And most definitely not as a first-time OB visit.”
“That would make two of us.” I played with my keys. The cool metal of my house key, car key, work keys slipping through my fingers. “It would be stating the obvious to say I’ve changed my mind and decided to go through with this pregnancy. I’d like you to be my obstetrician.”
Dr. Gray’s fingers thrummed a quick staccato on her desktop. “I’m thankful to hear about your decision, but I’m surprised—shocked, really—that you want me as your physician.”
“Dr. Gray, there’s no denying we don’t agree on certain issues. But I do appreciate how you treated me with respect during my first appointment, despite our differences.”
“Respecting my patients, no matter what their beliefs, is important to me.”
“And you didn’t waver in what you believed. I also respect that.”
She acknowledged my compliment with a quick nod. “Thank you.”
“So you agree to take me on as a patient?”
“I would consider it a privilege.”
A privilege? More like a chance to earn her fee. Or maybe I’d misjudged the woman and it was her chance to gloat behind my back, if not to my face, that she’d won. Not that I’d ever tell her how the ultrasound had influenced my decision. Not that she was asking.
I waited for a smirk, the slightest curl of her lips, to prove Dr. Gray wasn’t the professional I thought she was.
Nothing. She remained respectful. The same attitude as last time I sat in this exam room.
It seemed I hadn’t misjudged Hayden Gray.
“We did an ultrasound during your last visit, so we’ll wait until you’re twenty weeks to do another one.” She paused to scan the information in my chart. “I’m comfortable with the estimate we have for your due date.”
“August 30, right?”
“Yes. However, we are behind on some basic tests that need to be done during the first trimester.”
“What tests are you talking about?”
“You’ll be thirty-six when the baby is born. That used to be considered AMA—advanced maternal age—but nowadays, most doctors consider forty or older AMA.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I haven’t met a woman yet who cares for the term. One patient of mine switched from another obstetrician after being called a ‘geriatric mother,’ along with being told she had to have certain genetic testing.”
“I don’t blame her.”
“While you’re at an increased risk for some genetic disorders, I’m not overly concerned. You do, however, need to decide what tests you want to take and what tests you want to opt out of.”
“What tests are you recommending today?”
“We should do a Pap today to check for cervical cancer and sexually transmitted diseases.”
“Of course.”
“And then there is some routine blood work, what’s referred to as a quad screen. A test called chorionic villus sampling, or CVS, which checks for genetic abnormalities, is usually done when a woman is ten to twelve weeks pregnant.”
“I’m past that.” And again, I was stating the obvious.
“Yes. However, amniocentesis, which is performed between sixteen to eighteen weeks, also tests for abnormalities like Down syndrome but carries a small risk for miscarriage. While some national medical organizations recommend pregnant women over thirty-five have an amniocentesis, it is optional. Your risk of having a baby with Down syndrome is one in 224—less than .5 percent.”
“You knew that statistic.” I offered my first smile of the appointment at how she managed to put numbers to information so easily.
“I do this for a living.”
I’d only ever dealt with these details as a pharmacist. Heard these words as lab requests and results. Never needed to concern myself with them on a personal level. And now I was processing all this information alone—no one to talk it through with, except for Dr. Gray, whom I’d met twice. How did I navigate this? I knew all the answers, but now the answers were more significant because they affected me.
Me and my baby.
“I guess I’m having a Pap today, then, and considering my other options.” I forced a bit of bravado into my voice.
I didn’t bother to ask if all her patients were fact gatherers like me. Just over two weeks ago, I’d been talking with her about terminating my pregnancy. Now I was discussing everything I needed to do because I’d chosen to have the baby. Facts were simpler to deal with than the realities of how my life was changing.
“All right. I’ll let you get ready for the exam.” She removed a gown from a drawer at the base of the exam table. “I’ll go request a medical assistant.”
Five minutes later, Dr. Gray returned, followed by a petite young woman with long box braids flowing down her back who had to be at least a decade younger than me—and all smiles.
“This is Kristin, my MA. You didn’t have the opportunity to meet her last time. We work as a team. She’s the one you’ll contact with any initial questions or concerns. You can use the front desk number for routine concerns, of course, or contact me via the on-call line if there’s an emergency. I’ll make sure Kristin gives you that information before you leave today.”
As Dr. Gray talked, Kristin set up a small kit with tubes and vials.
“I thought Kristin could draw your blood work first and then I’ll do your exam. This is basic blood work, not the other screening tests we were discussing. How does that sound?”
It wasn’t as if I had a choice. This appointment was all about getting down to the business of being pregnant.
Kristin chatted and smiled as she drew my blood. “Have you felt the baby move yet?”
“No. No, not yet.”
“Most first-time moms don’t feel the baby move until closer to eighteen or twenty weeks, so don’t worry that you haven’t. Once the baby moves, you’ll know. And then the baby will be moving all the time.”
I had considered how this baby was going to interrupt my life on a grand scale but hadn’t stopped to think about the more intimate details, like feeling someone moving inside me all day long.
There would be all sorts of disruptions, big and small.
Dr. Gray finished the appointment. Efficient. Half an hour later, I sat in my car with gauze taped on my arm where her MA had drawn blood, as well
as a prescription for prenatal vitamins tucked in my purse.
I wouldn’t be filling that through the pharmacy at Mount Columbia. I’d call a pharmacy near home and pick it up after work.
Work.
I needed to tell my boss that I was pregnant.
Needed to look over my maternity leave benefits.
And I’d also instruct Axton in no uncertain terms there would be no baby shower. The way he liked to celebrate employee birthdays, I needed to make that clear from the very beginning.
He was all about us being a good working team, but he never envisioned us being him, me, and baby makes three. How would he handle the news?
I started my car, cool air wafting across my skin as I waited for the engine to heat up. Plenty of women worked during their pregnancies, had a baby, and returned to work, maintaining their professionalism while raising a child—even multiple children. There was no reason I couldn’t be one of them.
I could do this. I would do this—my way.
7
SO FAR, JILLIAN’S PLAN was working.
She’d called Payton earlier that morning and sent her sister on a wild-goose chase of errands on her way to the book club meeting, requesting she stop at the grocery store and pick up a specific brand of both orange juice and bagels. And then Jillian had texted Payton once she knew her sister was likely to be walking out of the store and asked for a particular brand of cream cheese for the bagels.
She’d even thrown out a last-minute prayer that there’d be a traffic jam on I-25. Not a bad one—just a harmless slowdown to detain Payton long enough to give Jillian the time she needed.
As she’d hoped, Johanna had arrived on time, declining the offer of coffee but accepting water and following her to the kitchen while Jillian got them both something to drink.
“Johanna, I need to talk to you.” Jillian handed her sister a cold bottle of water from the fridge.
“If you want me to apologize for not telling you that I was pregnant, fine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
