He was watching TV in the living room when she walked in, and he looked up at her with a smile when he saw her. He was wearing jeans and his white shirt from work. His tie was still lying on the table.
“Hi, how was your day?” he asked cheerfully, reaching out to her, and she sat down heavily on the couch beside him. She suddenly had to fight back tears again, just seeing him had brought all the terror back to her. She just couldn't bear it. “Wow …looks like a rough day …” And then he remembered the hormones she'd been taking. “Oh poor baby, those damn pills making you emotional again? Maybe you shouldn't take them.” Between that and the trial, she really had a lot to cope with. He pulled her into his arms, and she clung to him as though she were drowning.
“You look worn out,” he said sympathetically when she looked up at him and dried her eyes. He was right. The pills were making this even harder than it should be. Or were they? “You must be going crazy before the trial.”
“I am. It was a hellish day,” she admitted, as she lay back on the couch next to him, exhausted.
“I hate to say it, but you look it. Did you eat?”
She shook her head. “I wasn't hungry.”
“Great. How do you think you're going to get pregnant if you starve yourself. Come on.” He pulled her to her feet, or tried to, “I'll make you an omelet.”
“I couldn't eat. Honest. I'm beat. Why don't we just go to bed?” That was all she wanted. She wanted to see Annabelle, and he next to him, for as long as she could. Forever.
“Something wrong?” He suddenly wondered why she looked the way she did. She looked worse than usual, even before a trial, and she didn't answer him as she tiptoed into Annabelle's bedroom. She stood there for a long time, watching her, and then knelt down next to her, and kissed her. And then she walked into their own room. He was watching her, concerned, and she started undressing, and left her clothes on the chair as she put on her nightgown. She didn't even have the energy to take a shower or brush her hair. She brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed and lay there with her eyes closed, knowing she had to tell him.
“Baby,” he tried again, as he lay down next to her, “what's wrong? Did something happen at the office?” She took her work very seriously, and if she'd done something that had injured a client she would have tormented herself just as she seemed to be doing now. But she was quick to shake her head and deny it.
“Anderson called me again today,” she said in a low voice, and he watched her.
“And?”
“I went to see him at lunchtime.”
“What about? You can't have figured out already that you're pregnant?” It had only been two days, and he smiled at her. She was so anxious to have a baby.
She hesitated for a long time, torturing both of them, but she hated to say the words, to tell him and make it real. She hated to do it to all of them. But she knew she had to.
“There was a shadow on my mammogram.” She said it like a death knell, but Sam seemed a lot less impressed than she was.
“So?”
“It could mean that I have a tumor.”
“ ‘Could.' That means they don't know squat. And Martians could land on Park Avenue at midnight. But will they? Not likely. Probably just as likely as your ‘shadow' being a tumor.” She liked the way he thought about it. It restored her faith in her own body, which, in the past twelve hours, seemed to have betrayed her. But maybe it hadn't. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe she was just overreacting. “They don't know anything. It's probably just what it appears to be, and nothing more than that. A shadow.”
“Anderson wants me to see a surgeon and have a biopsy. He gave me three names to call, but I don't have any time before the trial. I thought I'd call one tomorrow, and see if he could see me at lunchtime. Otherwise, I'll have to wait till after the trial,” she said, looking worried.
“Did he think that would make a big difference?”
“Not really,” she admitted, feeling better than she had all day, “but he said I should get to it soon.”
“Obviously, but there's no need to panic. Half the time these guys are protecting themselves, they don't want to get sued, so they tell you the absolute worst, just in case, so you can't ever say they didn't warn you. And then if it's good news, everyone's happy. They never take into account the damage they cause by scaring you to death. For chrissake, Alex, you're a lawyer, you should know that. Don't let these bozos scare you!” She looked up at him with a grin, suddenly feeling both relieved and foolish, and he was smiling at her. He wasn't panicking. He didn't think she was going to die. He wasn't clinging to her, or being melodramatic. He had put the matter completely into perspective. And she suddenly realized that he was right. Even John Anderson wouldn't want to leave himself open to a lawsuit.
“What do you think I should do?”
“Get through your trial, have the biopsy in your own sweet time, but stay calm, and don't let these clowns scare the pants off you. And I'll bet you the profit on my next deal that your shadow is just that …and nothing more. Look at you, you're the healthiest woman I know. Or at least you would be if you ate occasionally and got some sleep.” But just talking to him now she felt better, and so relieved. He was intelligent, he kept a cool head, and he was probably right. It was probably just a scare, and not a tumor.
She felt immeasurably better when they turned off the lights that night, and only slightly worried again when she woke up the next morning. For an instant, she remembered that something terrible had happened the day before and she had that feeling of foreboding you get when you're in the midst of disaster. But as soon as she woke up, she reminded herself of everything Sam had said and she felt better again. And she made a point of waking Annabelle up and having her sit in the kitchen with her while she made breakfast. She even had a list of possible costumes for her. Liz had researched it the day before. They had a pumpkin, a princess, a ballerina, and a nurse, all in Annabelle's size, who opted instantly for the princess. It was exactly what she had dreamed of. “Oh Mommy, I love you!” she said, throwing her arms around her mother's waist.
“Me too,” Alex said, giving her a one-handed squeeze with a smile, as she flipped pancakes for her. She suddenly felt like celebrating. It was as though she had already been relieved of a terrible burden. Annabelle was happy, and Sam had convinced her that the shadow the doctors had seen was surely a false alarm. She wanted with her entire being to believe him. And this time, when Alex left for work, she swore and crossed her heart that she would call Annabelle at lunchtime.
She left her with Sam again, and kissed him fervently before she left, thanking him for his reassurances of the night before.
“You should have called me at the office. I'd have told you then.”
“I know. I guess I overreacted. It was stupid.” But anyone would have.
She kissed them both good-bye, and hurried out to the office. Brock was already waiting for her again, along with the rest of the team. She met with Matthew Billings, and it was eleven-fifteen before she remembered to call the surgeon Dr. Anderson had recommended.
A nurse asked why she was calling him, and Alex explained that it was about a biopsy, as Brock came back into her office for a file, and she prayed that he would take it quickly. He did and then disappeared again, as she wished she had locked the door. But maybe, if Sam was right, it really wouldn't matter.
Eventually, Dr. Peter Herman came on the line, and he sounded serious to her, and not terribly friendly. She explained about the shadow on the film, and that Dr. Anderson was concerned and felt that she should see him.
“I've already spoken to him.' Peter Herman explained. “He called me this morning. You're going to need a biopsy, Mrs. Parker. As soon as possible, I believe Dr. Anderson explained that.”