Both Dr. Taylor and Alice gape at her. “What?” They demand in unison.
“I was doing the intake and she said, ‘There’s something I need you to know.’ Said she wanted us to know beforehand that she’s not here to rat us out. She said she heard about the raid on Spadina.”
Alice and Dr. Taylor exchange a meaningful look. “Shit,” Dr. Taylor breathes.
“Why the hell would she come here?” Alice says, incredulous.
Dr. Taylor turns from Alice’s grave face to Nancy.
“I don’t know,” Nancy answers. “We didn’t get that far. She said she was a cop and I told her to wait.”
There’s silence for several long moments while all three women consider their next move. Memories of the raid hang over their heads like dense fog. The kind where you can’t see the dangers in front of you until you’re right on top of them.
“Is it…” Alice begins. “Is it worth just talking to her, Evelyn? I mean, we haven’t heard her leave yet, so she must really need to be here. Why would she tell us if she was actually a threat?”
“She doesn’t know whose home this is. That’s why we have the volunteers answer the door on home visits,” Dr. Taylor says, more to herself than to Alice or Nancy.
Nancy holds her belly and waits. The tension in this tiny room is palpable, and for a moment the three of them are right back in that tin can of a paddy wagon, sweating in fear and the blazing summer heat.
“Okay,” Dr. Taylor says after a long pause, composing herself with a shivery shrug. “I’m going to go talk to her. Follow me, ladies.”
Dr. Taylor strides confidently into the hallway. Alice follows, with Nancy on her heels. They find Brenda right where Nancy left her in the sitting room. Her foot is jiggling even faster now. She leaps to her feet when Dr. Taylor walks into the room, like a military grunt saluting her drill sergeant.
“So, Nancy here says you’re a cop,” Dr. Taylor snaps. “Tell us about that.”
Brenda clears her throat and extends a hand, which Dr. Taylor shakes, grasping it vigorously.
“Yes, I’m a police officer. I’m, uh, I’m here because I’m thirty-eight and never wanted kids, and I was denied an abortion through the government’s Therapeutic Abortion Committee. I tried to go the legal route but now I have no other option. As I told Nancy”—she makes eye contact with her—“I wanted to be honest about what I do because I want you to know that I’m not here as a police officer. Today I’m just Brenda. I just—I don’t know. I thought it was best to be up-front about it. I’m an up-front kind of girl.”
Alice stands stock-still beside Nancy, whose eyes are now flicking back and forth between Brenda and Dr. Taylor.
“Why did the committee deny you?” Dr. Taylor asks.
“They said it wasn’t medically necessary for either my physical or mental well-being. I have no history of depression or other conditions that wouldn’t tolerate a pregnancy, so, essentially… just not wanting to support a child for the rest of my damn life isn’t a good enough reason. And I’m a tough broad, but quite frankly I know I couldn’t ever give a child up for adoption. I don’t know how those women do it, but they sure as hell must be made of tougher shit than I am.”
Dr. Taylor clears her throat. Nancy blinks rapidly, her eyes on the carpet. Alice sighs and her eyes flicker to Dr. Taylor.
“I thought it would be easier to get an approval,” Brenda says, “so I didn’t think to lie through my teeth. Lying doesn’t come naturally to me. But I see now that’s what I should have done, if I were smart.”
Dr. Taylor licks her lips. A car drives by on the street outside the front window. A dog barks in a neighbouring yard.
“Okay. We’ll help you. But as I’m sure you’ll understand, we’re going to have a few restrictions.”
Brenda nods.
“You’ll leave your coat, shoes, and purse here in the sitting room. Normally I ask my patients to undress from the waist down, but since the undercover who paid us a visit had a wire on under her clothes, I’ll need you to get completely naked and use a hospital gown. Can we compromise on that?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, then. Why don’t you go on down the hall with Alice to the procedure room? I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“Thank you,” Brenda says, trying out a small smile.
Dr. Taylor returns it tightly. “See you soon.”
Alice leads Brenda down the hall and the surgery door shuts with a snap.
Dr. Taylor throws herself down on the couch in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. She lets out something between a sigh and a growl. The afternoon light pours in through the big bay window behind her, the stained glass casting rainbow shadows on the carpet. “Thank you for your help today, Nancy. I’m sorry you came all the way here for this.”
“It’s okay, really.”
“Before you go, could I ask you to check her shoes and purse for bugs?”
“Sure.”
Dr. Taylor studies her shrewdly from the couch. “You certainly keep getting all the dramatic experiences, don’t you?”
Nancy chuckles. “Never a dull moment, that’s for sure.”
Dr. Taylor rakes a hand through her hair. Nancy has noticed she’s cut it shorter and shorter each year, and it’s flecked with grey now.
“I hate having to do this,” Dr. Taylor says. “I was probably too harsh with her. But I sure as hell never want another gun pointed at my face. I bet you of all people can appreciate that.”
“No shit.”
Dr. Taylor’s gaze slips into the middle distance, examining the memory of that long-ago day. “I’m willing to compromise one woman’s dignity if it means we can continue helping all the other women out there who aren’t trying to bring the network down.”
Nancy shrugs. “I really don’t think Brenda is trying to bring us down. She told me she just needs an abortion. That’s the only reason she’s here. If the committee denied her…”
“I know.” Dr. Taylor heaves a long sigh. Nancy can see the exhaustion etched in the creases around her eyelids. There’s something else there, too. She’s seen it before. A shadow that Nancy hasn’t been able to identify. Dr. Taylor is usually so professional, one might even call her closed-off. She doesn’t share much.
“We’re getting closer to legalization, but we aren’t there yet. And it can’t come soon enough, for Christ’s sake.” Her mouth tenses and she seems to grapple with what she’s about to say. “The truth is, this has been a long haul, and I’m getting tired, Nancy. I’m frustrated. I know this is all worth it. But sometimes…” She meets Nancy’s eyes. “Just barely.”
* * *
Six weeks later, Nancy is reclined in the depths of one of the pink velvet wing chairs in her parents’ living room, surrounded by a large group of chattering women and piles of gifts in pink, white, and blue wrapping paper.
Nancy hated her own wedding shower; being thrust into the spotlight and trotted out on display for her mother’s church friends made her intensely uncomfortable. But Frances is so excited about becoming a grandmother for the first time, and quite frankly, Nancy didn’t have the energy to push back about the baby shower. She hardly has the energy to put on her own shoes these days, let alone get into an argument with her mother.