She glanced up at the moose head, feeling some peculiar camaraderie with the stuffed beast. She dodged any more of the queries by saying, “I was wondering. Does Doctor Terrell have the results yet on my blood tests?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Now, Charlotte. I had this sneaky feeling you were going to ask me that, but you know it’s unprofessional of me to give you the results early.”
“But you’ll probably just call me later today when I get home. What’s the difference?” Charlotte raised her hand. “Sorry. I know you’re just trying to do your job.”
“It’s all right. I would do the same thing if I were you. I would want to know as soon as possible.” Lucy flicked at the nurse’s pin on her lapel as if it were a pesky gnat. “But what if you have questions only the doctor can answer?”
“Why would I have questions? Is there something wrong with my blood work?” Charlotte nearly laughed at herself at the paranoid sound of her words.
Lucy let out a moan. “Look, I guess it doesn’t really matter if I tell you now. And at this point if I get fired I’ll count it a blessing. Your blood work looks good, except . . . ”
“Except what?”
“Your hormone levels. The doctor said the reason you’re having hot flashes is because you’re going through what’s called primary ovarian insufficiency.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.” Charlotte tried not to overreact, but her mouth went as dry as dust. Maybe paranoia was appropriate.
Lucy licked her lips, and Charlotte knew she was debating whether to say any more. But now without more information she felt like a fish dangling on the end of a pole, waiting for the fisherman to decide if she were a throwback or lunch.
“Well, I’ve also heard doctors call it premature menopause.”
“But that’s impossible. I’m only thirty-seven.” Charlotte lowered her voice.
“It can happen. I’ve seen it a couple of other times over the years. That’s why I hate nursing. It’s almost always bad news.”
“You’re right. It is bad news. But how did this happen?” Charlotte clasped her arms around her waist, wishing it were a real hug.
“I knew you’d have questions that only the doctor could answer.” Lucy pulled a packet of gum from her pocket and offered Charlotte a piece.
“No thanks. Look, I’m sorry to pressure you, but what do the books say about it? Surely you can talk to me as a friend. Otherwise, I’ll just scrounge around online when I get home and get such a hodgepodge of information that it’ll keep me awake every night until my appointment.” Charlotte gave Lucy her most convincing smile.
“Doctors might give you a list of reasons, but they just don’t know why.” Lucy unwrapped a piece of gum and slid it in her mouth.
Charlotte thought back on previous months concerning her periods. They had been erratic, which was why she’d gone to the doctor, but she’d no idea the diagnosis would be so bleak. She grabbed Lucy’s arm and then loosened her grip. “But that means I won’t be able to have children . . . ever. I’d always wanted at least one or two. I mean what about medicines for it? Or herbs or exercise or something?”
“I’ve never heard of anything for it.” Lucy covered her hand over Charlotte’s. “I’m really sorry.”
“I’m not sure what to say. It’s quite a blow. I feel run over, Lucy. Like I’ve been the front pin at Ramer’s Bowling Alley, and one of those balls has made a perfect strike, right here, against my heart.”
Lucy wrapped her arms around Charlotte. “I wish I could do something. I wish I could fix it.”
“Thanks, Lucy.”
“Now I guess it’s my turn to listen.” Lucy gave her back a few reassuring pats and released her.
Charlotte pondered what Lucy had told her.
In the meantime Lucy pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and rolled it around in her fingers. She looked as though she wanted to say something more but didn’t.
Charlotte appreciated the fact that Lucy gave her some space. She certainly wouldn’t cry now, but later when she was alone, in her special place—her broom closet—there, she planned to cry her eyes out. Seemed so strange to think of life when the man in the next room was dying, and yet it was the absence of life that ripped at her spirit. No children of her own. How could she process such horrible news? Oddly, Mr. Wilder assumed she was fertile, and yet now the opposite appeared to be true. The tragedy, of course, was that she would have had children by now if Mr. Wilder had not stopped her from marrying Sam at eighteen. Now, no matter whom she married, there could be no children of her own. “I guess I do have one more question. What if—”
They were interrupted by Audrey’s laughter as she and Sam came out of Mr. Wilder’s bedroom.
Why would Audrey be laughing?
When Sam and Audrey joined them, Sam said to Lucy, “He’s asking for you. I think it’s time for his morphine.”
“Absolutely.” Lucy gave Charlotte a quick, worried glance and then headed into Mr. Wilder’s bedroom.
Audrey circled Charlotte’s arm. “As gravely ill as Mr. Wilder is, he still remembered my favorite candy. He had a box of it hidden in the nightstand . . . divinity. Can you imagine?”
No, she really couldn’t. “That was thoughtful.”
“Indeed. But what made me giggle was his idea of a family. I was thinking maybe one child, you know. But Mr. Wilder said he hoped we’d have at least four or five. Can you imagine?”
Charlotte doubted that a dull knife to the heart could have pained her more. “It would be quite a happy brood, I’m sure. I would love to have had several children.”
“Well, I hope you get your dream someday,” Audrey said to her.
Lord, help me to get through this day.
Sam looked over at Charlotte. She did not turn away. A world of words passed between them then, but every sentence ended with a question mark.
“It’s just that I don’t know a lot about the care and feeding of children,” Audrey chattered on, “and it’s such a huge responsibility. An impossible task when you really think about it. What if something goes wrong? It’s like those pet owners you see on the evening news who have way too many dogs or cats, and they can’t take care of them all. Of course, in that case they are given over to someone else or to the pound.”
Sam ran his finger along a tear in the wallpaper. “Why don’t we talk about babies later.”
“All right.” Audrey stared at him for a moment, then she ran her finger along the same rip in the wallpaper. “Would you like some coffee from the kitchen . . . either one of you?”
“Maybe later.” Sam gave Audrey’s hand a pat.
“No, thank you,” Charlotte said.
Sam glanced over
