Chapter 24: Day Seven

The seventh day began in the same clinic, at nine in the morning, and this time Brett did not bring a folder.

He brought the lot card.

It was in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, and I could see the gold edge when he leaned down to pick up my bag.

"You carry that everywhere?" I said.

"It's the only thing you ever gave me with instructions on it."

The technician had a soft voice and a warm gel.

I lay back on the table with my shirt rolled up to my ribs, and Brett pulled a chair to the head of the bed and sat on it.

He put both his hands on his knees.

"You can hold my hand," I said.

He looked at me, and then he took it, in both of his, and I felt how cold his fingers were.

"It's a lot to look at," the technician said. "Stay with me. Here."

She turned the screen toward us.

I saw a gray fan of nothing, a smudge, a curve.

Then in the middle of the curve a small bright flicker, quick and steady, going and going.

"That's your heartbeat," the technician said.

Brett made a sound in his throat.

"That's ours?"

"That's your baby. A hundred and forty-two a minute. Right on time for seven weeks."

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