He had said our baby’s savings were untouched.
And when I asked whether his mother could help us sort out the insurance problem, he said she was tired of being treated like a bank.
Then the glass door opened.
His mother walked in carrying the brown leather bag she had brought to family dinners for seven years.
Gavin froze.
“Marlene?” I said.
She looked at my purse in his hand, then at the card beneath the chair.
“Give Audrey her things.”
“Mom, this isn’t—”
“Give them back.”
He put the purse on the counter.
Marlene bent down, picked up my card, and placed it in my hand.
Then she took out her own.
“Please let her speak with the nurse,” she told the receptionist. “I’ll cover today’s bill.”
Gavin reached toward her bag.
She moved it behind her hip.
“What did you bring?” he asked.
Marlene studied him.
“The receipt for the eight thousand dollars you told me went to this clinic.”
I turned toward my husband.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
He was looking at the door.
A nurse named Beth came around the desk and asked me to walk with her.
When Gavin followed, she stopped beside the hallway.
“Audrey, would you like your husband to come in?”
I had never been asked that with him standing there.
“No,” I said. “I’d like Marlene.”
He made a short, disbelieving sound.
Beth waited until I had my purse, then led us away.
In the exam room, she checked my blood pressure and asked whether I was in pain.
I told her what had happened and that the baby was moving normally.
