Obstetrix(39)

In March, Joy’s pregnancy would reach thirty-seven weeks; Bethany would turn fourteen and be handed over to Ethan as a “wife.”

March weather was wildly unpredictable. But if I had an opening, I was going to have to try.





CHAPTER 8




ON A THURSDAY IN early March, I heard the wind blowing outside and expected a blast of cold when I came out of my cabin. Instead, I was greeted with a blast of unseasonably pleasant dry air: a Chinook. Warm, dry air coming down the east side of the mountains, due to some weird weather thing that my father had explained to me when we’d had a Chinook in Minot when I was a kid.

The magical thing about Chinooks is the fact that they don’t just melt snow, they sublimate it: the air is so dry and warm the snow goes directly from solid to gaseous state. Well, some of it does, anyway. The Chinook also raises the air temperature very rapidly, and after breakfast I left my coat unzipped and my hood back. It wasn’t quite T-shirt weather but it was stunningly, delightfully warm.

Which meant maybe I could make a run for it. It was still March, and once the Chinook stopped blowing, the cold would quickly return, so it would be risky. But if I wanted to get out of here in time to send someone back to rescue Joy, and Bethany, this might be my only chance.

Unfortunately, Sarah seemed as aware as me that at the moment, they couldn’t count on the fear of freezing to death in the woods to keep me from fleeing: she would not let me out of her sight. She sat with me at breakfast, followed behind me within easy grabbing range when I went to get a second cup of coffee, escorted me to the clinic, rang the bell for one of the men to escort me when I said during a break in patients that I wanted to go back to my own cabin to shed my thermal underwear. She did let me go to the bathroom without her, but when I examined the clinic’s bathroom windows, I discovered that they were unopenable glass block. Someone would probably have noticed me climbing out, anyway.

My cabin bathroom had no windows at all, but the cabin itself did, next to my bed. That night I checked the window and discovered it had recently been nailed shut. This made me wonder if there was something on the door itself that notified the man standing guard at night that I’d opened my door. Probably yes. Could I disable it? Or would that just tip them off that I’d found it?

I stepped outside. The night guards no longer asked me why I’d come out, they all just assumed it was a hot flash, but tonight Elmo, the man standing guard, came straight over and just watched me, silently. Eventually I went back inside and lay down, staring up at my dark ceiling.

Maybe part of why they were so worried was that Joy was almost due. Maybe they were all worried that I’d get away, and leave Joy without medical support. Of course, she wouldn’t be without medical support; I was absolutely calling the police the minute I was out of here! But they might not think of it that way. They might assume they’d catch me if I tried to run. And murder me and bury me next to the other doctor.

And they didn’t want to do that until I’d done Joy’s C-section.

Friday morning in the mending corner, Natalie measured Bethany for her wedding dress. Bolts of white bridal fabrics were leaned against the wall, and she asked Bethany to pick her favorite of a shiny satin and a matte satin. Bethany stroked both fabrics, her brow furrowed, and said, “They’re both beautiful, ma’am. Either is fine.”

After Natalie had finished taking her measurements, Bethany was invited to sit down and work on mending for a bit at her mother’s side. Heather talked about how while of course the reason for this was tragic, it was convenient that Brother Ethan had a house of his own already and they hadn’t had to build the newlyweds a house. When Brother Nick and little Chloe—Sister Chloe, she corrected herself—when Chloe came of marriageable age, they’d had to wait an extra six months because some of the materials for their house hadn’t come.

I looked at Emma, who was nodding and laughing with everyone else.

Joy came out of the kitchen with one of the big cans of corn. “Sister Emma,” she said accusingly. “One of the cans you brought home on your last shopping trip has gone bad. It’s foul inside.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Sister Joy,” Emma said. “But this is hardly my fault. It’s not as if I could open it up and take a sniff before I brought it home.”

Joy thrust the can at Emma and said, “It was the last can. It’s spoiled, it will make everyone sick if it goes into dinner, and without it, there won’t be enough.”

Emma stood up, indignant. “Go get Brother Jason,” she said. “We’ll run into town and buy some small cans, it’s not the end of the world. Bethany, go get my coat, I left it in the house this morning.” She stalked out.

Heather went to find Jason, and Janet volunteered to go ask Pastor for the debit card. Suddenly there were a lot fewer people there to watch me, although unfortunately one of them was Natalie.

“It’s not as if we’ll all starve without corn in the taco soup,” Natalie said.

“Tell that to the men working a full day on the ranch,” Joy snapped.

Something was odd about this whole interaction; I had never seen Joy act like this. Was she going into early labor? It wouldn’t even be all that early, at this point. “Joy, you should probably sit down,” I said. “Maybe come to the clinic with me for an exam? I’m worried about you.”