Page 11 of Cascade

“I won’t mention it to anyone,” I tell her. “That’s against the rules.”

We talk about benchmarks for healthy pregnancy, how our practice supports birthing patients at the center, at the hospital and in their homes, and how everyone receives follow up care at home post birth. “I’m so excited about this research,” I coo. “I even started a new partnership with someone from the college. Moorely something?”

Hunter blinks at me rapidly. “What in the hell is Moorely doing in partnership with a birth center? Do not tell me he will be coming here.”

I shake my head. “Not like that—he’s building an app for us, for our pregnant patients to track health symptoms, benchmarks, that sort of thing.”

I usher the conversation back toward pregnancy and the importance of good nutrition in those early weeks after conception and once we get to the conception part of the talk, it occurs to me that Hunter is Archer’s brother. I flush. Abigail notices and smiles.

Shaking my head, I toss my notes aside. “Ok, I know I promised you could ask some questions, but we do like to get things started with some baseline bloodwork, urine analysis, that sort of thing. I’m going to let you guzzle this water and visit our restroom to give a sample while I get our nurse to—”

“Shouldn’tyouperform the blood draw?” Hunter interrupts me and it throws me off guard. “Aren’t you the most highly skilled clinician on site?”

“Well, I don’t typically…our nurse is very skilled…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Abigail snatches the specimen cup from my hand. “I don’t need a drink. Show me the toilet and get me the nurse. Hunter, you’re driving me crazy.”

She whooshes out the door and I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.

A few minutes later, in the hall while I’m getting Abigail’s labels situated, the nurse hands me the urine sample with a test strip inside. “Two lines,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “You’re gonna want to do the full prenatal panel.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Archer

“HUNTER, CALM DOWN, dude.” My brother has called me 15 times, blurts out an incoherent phrase, and then hangs up. “You gotta either tell me what happened or stop calling. I’m finishing Ed Hasting’s tax stuff.”

He sighs. He exhales a long series of phrases and I’m pretty sure I catch him say that Abigail is somehow six weeks pregnant by accident. “Hey! That’s awesome,” I tell him, continuing to type numbers into my spreadsheet.

My brother is freaking out, but I can’t really tell why. He’s married, has a good job, and our family is right here. What’s to worry about? “Hey, dude, did you tell Ma yet? Maybe she and Dad have some thoughts on—”

“I am not in control here!” Hunter yells. I can almost see him ripping his hair out. I sigh.

“Hunter. You have not been in control since you met Abigail. It’s ok to live on the edge a little.”

“This is a human child I will be responsible for shaping into a functional member of society!”

“Listen.” I glance at the clock. “My day is getting away from me here. Want me to bring over a 6-pack later?”

He grunts. I take that as a yes.

“Call Ma,” I tell him. “She will absolutely kill you if Diana breaks the news to her first.”

I hang up with my brother and keep working on Ed’s paperwork. I finally found the error—he had a bunch of subscribers listed twice when he couldn’t figure out which order their double last names should go alphabetically.

The phone rings again and I growl at it, not even looking at the screen when I answer. “Dude, I told you to go call our parents.”

“Um, sorry to bother you, then.”

It’s a woman, but her voice doesn’t sound immediately familiar. I look at the caller ID. Shit. “Dotty! So sorry. I thought you were my brother again.”

“Which one?” She laughs. I think most of us have dated Dotty at least once growing up in Oak Creek. Last I heard she has a desk job at some medical clinic the next town over. I haven’t heard from her in years.

“Aah, just Hunter and some nonsense. What’s up with you? Been awhile.”

“Well,” she pauses. I sigh. “We are being audited at work. And I’m scared.”

“Oh!” I guess things really have changed in my life when women are calling me about tax codes instead of booty calls. “Want me to come take a look?”

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