Well, the child would have to start maturing. Maybe once she hit puberty, she’d appreciate Melissa more, and they could—
There was a commotion in the hallway. Urgent voices, though Melissa couldn’t make out what they were saying. Gosh darn it. She had wanted to go to Supple Apothecary in Orleans and get an under-eye serum to get rid of those dark circles. The spa treatment in Provincetown hadn’t lasted beyond a few hours.
The door opened, and a woman came in, dressed in scrubs, wearing those hideous clogs they forced nurses to wear. She looked down at the clipboard in her hands, looked up and said, “Ms. Spencer?”
Then she froze.
It took a second or two for Melissa to recognize her. Women in scrubs all looked alike, more or less. Her hair was in some kind of bun, and she wasn’t wearing makeup, but yes. It was Lillie Silva.
CHAPTER 18
Lillie
Oh,” said the whore known as Melissa. “I . . . I thought you delivered babies.” Her face flushed. “At the hospital.”
My heart was stampeding like a herd of buffalo. She’d used a different last name, not Finch, not Fairchild, but here she was. My replacement. Here, in my workplace—which was definitely one of the places I loved best—fouling it with her presence.
We stared at each other, dumbstruck. Then I gave my head a little shake and remembered who I was. Lillie Silva, BSN, RN, CNM. “I do deliver babies,” I said. “And I take care of the whole range of women’s health.” My God, that engagement ring could choke a pony. Brad bought that? Brad the cheapskate? He’d been so relieved there’d been a family ring I could wear so he didn’t have to buy me one.
On another note, I wondered if she knew I was the “performance artist” at her wedding.
“I . . . I have an appointment with Dr. Owens,” Melissa said.
“She was just called out on an emergency.”
“What kind of an emergency?”
Clearly, the self-appointed queen of Wellfleet wasn’t used to having to change her plans. “I can’t discuss other patients,” I said. One of our clients had gone into premature labor—four weeks early—and Wanda was riding with her to the hospital.
“Is it a baby?” Melissa asked.
I didn’t answer.
She looked away. “I guess I’ll come back when Dr. Owens is free.”
“Yeah, I think that would be best.” I took a deep breath. “But if this is an urgent medical issue, I . . . I can examine you. I don’t want you to delay getting treatment if there’s something wrong.” I so did not want to look at her lady parts. Then again, if she was here for an STD panel, it would be rather karmic.
“It’s minor,” said Melissa. “Something that can wait.”
“Okay, then. For the record, I do work here five days a week, unless I’m at the hospital delivering a baby.”
“I imagine there are other gynecologists in the area. I’ll use one of them.”
“Great.” I paused. “But Wanda is the only one on the Outer Cape.”
“That’s fine. I’ll go somewhere else.” She hopped off the table. “The fact that I came here . . . it’s covered by HIPAA?”
“It absolutely is. I can’t even tell anyone that you were here.”
“Good.” She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and stood up. God, she was so slim and pretty, even in an exam robe.
Suddenly, she bent over and put her hands over her left lower abdomen. “Ouch,” she gasped. “Oh, my God, that hurts.”
I went to her side and put my hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath. Have you had this type of pain before?”
“No! Never.”
“Let’s get you back on the table.” I helped her up. Her face was pale. I smeared my hands with antibacterial gel and put on gloves. I had to ask the question I dreaded. “Any chance you could be pregnant?”
“No! I’m on the pill, and I’m religious about taking it. I am not pregnant. I had my period last month.” She paused. “The pain is fading now.”
“Okay. Is it all right if I palpate your stomach?” My guess was an ovarian cyst, which could be like a knife in your stomach.
She winced again. “Um . . . yeah, okay.”
God, this was weird. I opened her robe, exposing the perfect skin over her stomach, and pressed lightly on the left side. “Any pain or pressure there?” I asked.
“No.”
“Good.” I repeated the move on the other side. “How about now?”