Page 101 of The Doctors Will See You Now

She did as instructed, turning the dial to the maximum and grabbing on to my hand for support. “Just don’t break my hand, okay?” she requested with a laugh.

I wanted to agree, but as the pain started to roll through me, like an actual violent wave that pulled me under and held me there, I wasn’t sure I could follow through.

“Ahh. Holy hell.” I grabbed my stomach and writhed. “Christ almighty, how is this natural?”

I had to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever done anything that would give me as much perspective as this would. When women demanded the drugs, I’d be a lot more sympathetic to the speed with which it occurred—even if I had to drag an anesthesiologist up to the fourth floor myself.

Feeling normal again, Melody and I took our place in the free care tent to help out with some of the patients who’d made their way down, desperate to see us. Our first one was sitting on the table with her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

“Hi, Mrs. Kincaid,” Melody greeted, a caring hand to Esmeralda’s shoulder and genuine concern in her eyes. “What brings you down today? Have you had any prenatal care at all?”

Esmeralda shook her head, just slightly, embarrassed, and I glanced down at her bountiful stomach. I’d have to take a measurement to be sure, but she couldn’t have been less than six months along. That much time with no prenatal care was risky, to say the least.

“That’s okay. Don’t be ashamed, okay?” Melody comforted. “You care about your baby, we know that. That’s what brought you here today, right?”

The patient nodded, a tear dripping from the corner of her eye before she could dash it away. Melody pulled her into a hug immediately, whispering in her ear, “Don’t worry. We’re here for you now. And you’ve come to the very best place you could have. Dr. Cummings is the best, and he’s going to do absolutely everything he can to help you.”

God, I love her.

Her passion and completely genuine concern for these women shone out of her like an actual light.

These women needed her, and she needed somewhere to help them. I didn’t think I could make it happen on my own, but as I glanced up to the crowd and spotted not only my sister and Kline, but Thatch, Cassie, Wes, and Winnie, I knew I didn’t need to be able to.

I had fantastic friends in high places.

My fingers tapped gently yet determinedly against the keys as I finished typing up a few notes on my last patient follow-up call. The office had been empty for well over an hour, and I savored the peaceful silence while I checked off the final items of today’s to-do list.

This weekend’s event had been a huge success. It had imbued me with pride and purpose and filled the tiniest hole in me that still needed filling—Will had managed to fill the rest.

But as much as it filled my void, and as good as it felt, it only drove me harder. I needed to work harder, reach out more, help more women.

Once Syreeta Johnson’s chart was updated with our earlier conversation, I saved the file and crossed her name off the Post-it note of patients I needed to call. Before I could move on to the next, my phone vibrated across the table with a message from my mom.

Jazzercise Janet: Are you staying at Will’s tonight?

Me: I’m not sure, I’m still at work. Why?

Jazzercise Janet: Just wondering.

That was a little weird, but I’d learned from the age of thirteen not even to bother with questioning Janet on her reasons or motives. Most times, I didn’t want to know. And unfortunately for me, she appeared persistent on keeping this conversation going.

Jazzercise Janet: When do you think you’ll know?

Me: I don’t know, Mom. I’m still trying to finish up some patient calls before I leave for the night.

Jazzercise Janet: So…should I assume it’s a good possibility that you will be staying at Will’s tonight?

Call me crazy, but it seemed a lot like Janet wanted me out of the apartment for the evening…

Me: Do you want me to stay at Will’s tonight?

Jazzercise Janet: Would it make me a bad mother if I said yes?

Yep. She definitely wanted me gone for the night, and I sure as fuck did not want to know why. Traumatic past experiences taught me that it most likely involved my father without pants.

Me: Considering I’m twenty-nine years old, I don’t think so.

Jazzercise Janet: Okay, good. Could you stay at Will’s tonight, sweetie? I’d really like some alone time with your father.