Chapter 8: Tuesday at Nine

Lena drove, Kendall sat beside her, and I sat in the back seat of my own car.

Nobody said anything until the second stoplight.

"This is really kind," Kendall said, adjusting her seat belt. "I mean it."

"I know you do," Lena said.

The Northshore women's clinic has a waiting room with pale green chairs and a fish tank.

Three women in various stages of pregnancy looked up when we came in, and then looked away.

Kendall checked in at the desk.

Lena took the chair beside her and set her purse on her lap, and I took the one beside Lena.

Kendall went through the inner door when her name was called.

"Godmother," Lena said brightly, and followed her.

I stayed in the waiting room, watching a fish with a torn fin go around the tank.

Twenty-five minutes later, Lena came back out alone.

She sat down beside me with her coat folded on her knee.

"Well?" I said.

"The appointment is real."

"Okay."

"Eleven weeks exactly. A heartbeat." She said it flatly. "The doctor asked if I wanted to hear it, and I said yes."

My stomach turned over.

"What did it sound like?"

"Fast," Lena said. "It doesn't know anyone's lying yet."

Kendall came out with a fresh sonogram strip in her hand, glowing.

"The doctor says everything is perfect."

"Wonderful," Lena said, standing. "Let's get you home."

We rode back down into the parking garage in silence.

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