new crisis turning the young woman’s life upside down?
Rachel resisted the urge to stand and pace, keeping her eight months of pregnant belly out of Lucy’s direct line of sight. “It’s true I haven’t personally experienced what you’re going through, and I can’t fix it for you. But I can help by listening. Look at all the progress you’ve made so far.”
Lucy tossed her curly chestnut hair over one shoulder and stood to circle the room. Twice. “Ever since the miscarriage, it’s like Kevin and I are fighting all the time. I blame him because he wasn’t around when the contractions started, and he blames me because I didn’t take care of the baby.”
“You know it’s no one’s fault,” Rachel reminded her. “Your O.B. doctor told you as much. There was something wrong with the development of the fetus, and your body handled the situation with a spontaneous abortion. You were progressing with your pregnancy just as the doctor had ordered. Sometimes tragedies like that happen, and, unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“But the guilt…” Tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes and overflowed. “It’s not just grief. I feel so guilty.”
Rachel finally stood and took Lucy a tissue. She leaned her hip against the desk in a casual pose. “That’s normal. You can’t beat yourself up over that. We all deal with loss in different ways. Feel different emotions. This is the way that’s right for you.”
Lucy’s mascara blotched in circles around her big, brown eyes. She blew her nose into the tissue. “But Kevin is so angry with me. Sometimes he’s sad and we cry about it and we talk. Then, next thing I know, he’s on my case over every little thing.”
Her outburst of tears ended on a tiny hiccup. “He says we should have another baby.”
Rachel kept her face a placid mask. Oh lord, two kids barely out of their teens, dealing with the loss of one child, anxious to dive into pregnancy again.
“Do you want another baby?”
“I don’t know. Maybe—if it’s what Kevin wants.”
“What about what you want? I think you and Kevin should talk some more.”
“But that’s the problem. He won’t just sit and talk to me like he used to.” Lucy’s gaze lit on Rachel’s protruding stomach. “Maybe a new baby would make him pay attention to me again.”
“Lucy, you and Kevin have issues you need to resolve before you engage in unprotected sex again.” Creating a new life wouldn’t solve the problems of the existing one. “Would he come in and talk with me?”
“I don’t know.” Lucy shrugged helplessly. “I could ask him.”
“If not me, I can give you some names of several reputable counselors.”
“Okay.”
Her phone buzzed and Rachel leaned back over her desk to read the number of the incoming call. It was a message she’d been expecting. Rachel stood and smiled at Lucy. They’d run a few minutes over their scheduled time already. “I need to take this. Will you be okay?”
Lucy sniffed. “Sure.”
Rachel urged Lucy to check out the bathroom and freshen her makeup before venturing out to catch her bus. “I’ll see you next week, won’t I? Even if Kevin doesn’t come with you?”
The young woman dredged up half a smile that revealed the beauty in her face and made her seem terribly young to be dealing with such heavy emotions. “I’ll be here.”
“Good. I’ll see you then. Call if you need to.”
“Bye, Dr. Livesay.”
When the door shut behind her patient, Rachel picked up the phone, blaming her tardiness on her laborious walk.
“Andrew Washburn here. You said you had a concern about the confidentiality of your pregnancy?” In person, he was a gruff, blustery man whose snowy-white hair and mustache reminded her of Colonel Mustard from her childhood game of Clue. But on the phone, he betrayed a blend of shock and concern that made him sound more like a doting old father figure. Which was an odd image to spring to mind for a man whose clinic had fathered hundreds of babies.
“Nothing like getting right to the point.” Rachel pulled the wadded-up note from her coat pocket and spread it flat against the desktop. “I received a message this morning from someone calling himself ‘Daddy.’ Basically, he claims that my baby is his, and that he plans to take her from me.”
Dr. Washburn’s response was half laugh, half snort. “What? That’s preposterous. Our donors and clients are completely anonymous, and are never informed as to when or even if their sperm have been used. Their relationship with us ends after their donation has been made.”
Rachel sighed, schooling her patience. “Someone thinks he knows. He says he wants what’s his.”
“I assure you, the clinic is not to blame here.” She heard a sound in the background, like the shuffling of papers or the tapping of buttons on a keyboard. “No one but myself and a few bonded staff members have access to the sperm donors’ names. There is no way a donor could find out if he was the father of your child.”
Rachel twirled her finger into the curling phone cord, wanting to believe him. “Are you sure?”
“The donor’s name isn’t even listed in your file. Here it is. Only the number is recorded. 93579.”
“Can you tell me who 93579 is?” she asked.
Washburn’s laugh this time seemed more genuine. “Now that would be betraying his confidence.”
Rachel couldn’t see the humor in anything that might pose a threat to her baby.
“Tell you what. I’ll cross-reference the donor’s file and see if there’s anything there that would make me suspicious of his having the opportunity to contact you.”
“What would make you suspicious?” Rachel pulled her shoulders back and stood up straighter. Was there a possibility the father knew her? “I thought you screened all your donor candidates.”
“We do. We do. But his social circle might cross yours somewhere that we missed before. Perhaps you let the number slip and he recognized it.”
Social circles, huh? That would require a social life. Of which she had none. Her life revolved around school and her baby. Other than a few solitary errands and her twice-weekly trip to the Y for a water-aerobics class, she spent her time either on campus or at home. “I don’t think so, Dr. Washburn. The donor’s number is nothing I’ve ever discussed with anyone but you. But I’d appreciate any information you could give me.”
“I’ll read through the file and call you tomorrow.” She overlooked the patronizing gratitude in his voice. The man was probably relieved she hadn’t pushed the issue any further.
“Thank you.”
By the time she hung up the phone she felt exhausted. The baby had snuggled into a comfortable position and fallen asleep. But Rachel couldn’t afford to surrender to her own fatigue—be it physical or emotional.
Maybe
