Page 86 of The Forsaken
“I’m sorry, Logan. I really am. I’m still trying to come to terms with the woman she is. Sylvia is not at all the mother I envisioned.”
“No, I don’t suppose she is. Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Logan said as a nurse called Quinn’s name and led them down a narrow corridor to an examining room.
“I’d actually just like to talk to Dr. Crawford,” Quinn told the nurse. “Perhaps we can speak in her office.”
The nurse looked surprised but acquiesced to Quinn’s request. Quinn and Logan exchanged nervous smiles as they headed toward the doctor’s office.
Karen Crawford looked up from a file she was perusing and smiled in welcome. “Please, have a seat.”
Dr. Crawford styled her hair in a chic blond bob and wore perfectly applied makeup. Beneath her white lab coat was a smart silk blouse in an unusual shade of blue-gray that exactly matched the doctor’s eyes. She was a woman who took pride in her appearance.
“How can I help you today?” she asked pleasantly, assuming an air of someone who couldn’t wait to hear what the other person had to say.
“Dr. Crawford, my name is Quinn Russell, and this is my brother, Logan Wyatt. Nearly thirty-one years ago I was abandoned at Leicester Cathedral by my birth mother. A few weeks ago, I discovered, quite by chance, that I’m actually a twin,and that my sister, Quentin, had been left at the Royal Infirmary on the same day. I believe you know who I’m referring to.”
Dr. Crawford’s eyes grew round and she studied Quinn more openly, no doubt searching for a resemblance to her twin. She was silent for a few moments, then nodded, her unblinking gaze still fixed on Quinn. Her face underwent a series of expressions, ranging from surprise to sadness, and eventually to something that might have been a grimace of contrition.
Quinn’s heart rate accelerated as she waited for the doctor to speak. What she said, however, wasn’t quite what Quinn had expected.
“Are you currently on blood pressure medication?” Dr. Crawford asked. She came around the desk and reached for a blood pressure cuff on a nearby shelf. “May I?”
“Why?” Quinn asked, annoyed.
“You’re a pregnant woman whose blood pressure just spiked in front of my eyes. Before I answer your questions, which I will do gladly, I must make sure you are well enough to have this conversation and your child isn’t in any danger.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn retorted. “I’m just nervous.”
“That’s understandable. Slightly elevated,” Dr. Crawford said as she took off the cuff and sat back down. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“Yes, please,” Quinn replied, defeated. Everyone felt the need to mother her, and it annoyed her to no end.
Dr. Crawford rang reception and asked for some tea, then turned back to Quinn and Logan. “I’m sorry for the delay, but I am a doctor, first and foremost.”
“Understood,” Quinn replied. “Now, please tell us about Quentin.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything,” Quinn replied. “You must recall the adoption, having been a teenager at the time.”
“Yes, I do. It was an odd time for my family.”
“How so?” Logan asked.
The receptionist brought it a tray loaded with three cups of tea, a jug of milk, and a sugar bowl. Quinn added a splash of milk to hers and took a sip. It did calm her and allowed Dr. Crawford a moment to compose herself while she made her own tea. She took a sip, then set the cup down, ready to explain.
“When Quentin was discovered in the emergency area of the Royal Infirmary she was in a bad state. She had difficulty breathing caused by a severe heart murmur. She might not have survived had her mother not brought her to the hospital when she did. My father fell in love with that little girl the moment he saw her, or more accurately, he fell in love with the idea of being her savior,” she added bitterly. “You see, my dad, God rest his soul, loved attention and publicity, and adopting an abandoned little girl whose life he’d saved was the jewel in the crown of his achievements. He was enamored of the idea.”
“Are you saying it was all a publicity stunt?” Logan asked.
“Not a conscious one, but if you knew my dad, you’d understand.”
“What about your mother? How did she feel about adopting Quentin?” Quinn asked.
“My mother was nearly fifty when Quentin came into her life. She’d raised her children, supported her husband’s career for nearly thirty years, and had been looking forward to some time to herself, to enjoy life. She thought Dad would scale back his hours and they would travel, or take up a new hobby. They both enjoyed golf, and Mum had this idea of visiting some of the world’s most famous golf resorts. She had no desire to start all over again at her age, but once my father made the announcement to the press, she could hardly refuse. It would have made Dad look bad.”
“Had he not consulted her?” Quinn asked, shocked.
“Not really. My father never consulted anyone. He presented them with a situation that they had no choice but to deal with. So, Mum did what she did best. She dealt.”
