Forever, Plus One - Sophie Love

Emily swung her legs round so she was lying flat on the bed. Daniel stood and hovered beside her. Doctor Arkwright put on some latex gloves.

“I feel like I’ve been abducted by aliens,” Emily said, peering up at her audience.

Daniel laughed.

“Yes, you’ll be prodded and poked more in the next few months than ever before in your life,” Doctor Arkwright said. “By the end you’ll have no qualms about stripping off in front of people. Body hang-ups go completely out the window.”

“I look forward to that time,” Emily said, feeling her cheeks warming with a blush.

Doctor Arkwright checked Emily’s pelvis and abdomen, her hip rotations, and general joint flexibility. She moved her fingers deftly, checking almost every inch of Emily’s body. Emily felt she was a lump of dough being kneaded.

“I’ll order some blood tests,” the doctor explained as she worked. “So we know your type and Rh status. We’ll also check for anemia, certain antibodies, and make sure you’re immune to all the big viruses like chickenpox, rubella, hepatitis.”

Blood tests weren’t exactly Emily’s favorite things in the world. The thought of having so many tests made her feel increasingly anxious.

“This is your first pregnancy, isn’t it, Mrs. Morey?” the doctor asked as she placed a cold stethoscope against Emily’s chest.

Emily nodded. “Yes.”

“Any prior gynecological problems? Abnormal pap results? Sexually transmitted infections? Anything like that?”

Emily shook her head and wondered whether it would have been better for Daniel not to have come along to this particular appointment. She’d naively thought such delicate questions wouldn’t be asked immediately. She was going to have to get used to revealing everything about her body now. Nothing would be off limits!

Doctor Arkwright removed her stethoscope and slung it back around her neck again.

“Now, because of your advanced maternal age,” she explained, her attention drawn back to Emily’s abdomen, “it’s a little more important for you to take the right vitamins, sleep enough, reduce your stress levels to the absolute minimum. They’re all things we would recommend to expectant mothers whatever their age, but for you it’s that extra bit important.”

“Should we be worried?” Daniel asked. “About Emily’s age?”

Emily frowned up at him. With her stomach on display and the both of them looking down at her like a specimen it made her feel vulnerable and somewhat at their mercy. She could cope with the doctor referring to her age, but not Daniel!

Doctor Arkwright looked at Daniel briefly and shook her head. “It’s far more common for women to leave starting a family until their late thirties these days and the medical world is catching up. It’s not as much an issue as it used to be. Really the main hurdle is fertility, which clearly isn’t a problem in this case. There is a marginally higher risk of gestational diabetes, blood pressure problems, premature birth. But you’re in safe hands.”

Emily certainly felt like she was in safe hands. She just wished there wasn’t so much testing to be done. It all felt a bit impersonal. Clinical. She didn’t like just feeling like a baby-making vessel and would be very glad when this initial assessment was over and done with.

Doctor Arkwright peeled off her gloves. “All done. You’re in good shape, so nothing of concern there. Please, take a seat and we’ll have a quick look at your medical history.”

Emily sat up and gave Daniel a weak smile, not quite ready to forgive him for his comments on her advanced age. She rearranged her clothes and slid her shoes back on, then took a seat. Doctor Arkwright washed her hands and then came and sat in her chair, spinning toward her computer. She took a moment to read the screen.

“You have a good clean bill of health,” she said, looking through the data. “Scarlet fever in childhood with no lingering aftereffects. Non-smoker, which pleases me greatly. No particular health conditions. Nothing chronic. No ongoing medication use. A slightly higher alcohol rate than I’d like to see, but you’ll be completely quitting that for the next few months anyhoo.” She spun back around and looked at Emily.

“We’re both quitting,” Emily said.

“I didn’t think it would be fair otherwise,” Daniel said. “Especially since we own a bar with a cocktail waiter who’s second to none!”

Doctor Arkwright smiled. Then she laid her forearms against the table and looked across at Emily, her expression serious.

“Now, this might be a little bit of a delicate thing to discuss, but I couldn’t help noticing that on your registration forms you ticked the box of family history of mental health problems. If you’re comfortable to do so, I’d like you to tell me a little bit more about that history. It’s entirely for your benefit, no one’s judging here, it’s just to make sure we’re keeping an eye on the right sort of things while your hormones are changing throughout the pregnancy.”

Emily clasped her hands in her lap, feeling instantly uncomfortable. Talking about her chaotic upbringing was her least favorite thing to do, especially to a stranger, even if that stranger was a doctor who’d probably heard it all before and just wanted to help.

Daniel reached over and touched Emily’s hand for reassurance. Buoyed by his presence, Emily took a deep breath.

“My father went through a long, long period of depression,” Emily said finally, her voice sounding thin. “For dozens of years. It was following my sister’s death.”

Doctor Arkwright nodded and kept her face neutral as she wrote the information onto her form. “And your mother?”

“My mother?” Emily shook her head. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with her to be honest with you. It could be something psychiatric. But then again she might just be a difficult person.”

“She’s not been assessed or diagnosed with anything?”

Emily shook her head. She was feeling very uncomfortable now. Talking about this stuff always made her feel a bit panicky. But Doctor Arkwright added the information to her forms, acting in no way as if Emily’s admission was anything to worry about.

“And what about yourself?” she said, gently. “Did you ever experience any problems growing up?”

Emily shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean, I was devastated after Charlotte died. And after my dad…” She stopped speaking to collect her thoughts. After a breath, she started again. “There have been some really trying times in my life. I don’t know how well I dealt with them at the time. It took me years to even deal with it all. Then when I started, it came back to me in sort of scary flashbacks.”

Daniel’s thumb stroked the top of her hand where it was resting. “She would zone out occasionally,” he added. “Sort of space out. But it happens a lot less now.”

Doctor Arkwright remained very professional as they spoke, absorbing Emily’s admissions with nothing more than a sympathetic nod of the head. “It sounds like you may have been experiencing some mild PTSD symptoms,” she said.

Emily felt alarmed. It sounded so dramatic. For her, it had just been something she’d gone through, some kind of natural outcome to touching on the memories she’d closed off for so many years.

“Please, don’t worry,” the doctor reassured her. “It’s far more common than people believe, particularly when trauma happens in childhood. When we don’t have the language to express our emotions or even label them properly, repression becomes a natural defense mechanism. The important thing to note now is that you may be at a slightly higher risk of pre- or postnatal depression or psychosis. Again, it sounds dramatic but it’s very well treated these days, through counseling and medication if necessary. As long as we keep an eye on your symptoms there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Emily nodded and let out her breath. Doctor Arkwright was very reassuring, but at the same time she felt a sense of unpleasant anticipation for what might be in store for her. These things were never talked of. Not amongst her friends, nor her mother’s generation. She couldn’t help but feel worried about having a higher chance of experiencing something that was so poorly understood.

Doctor Arkwright smiled and handed a glossy folded slip of paper to Emily. “Here’s a pamphlet that details nutrition, vitamins, exercise, travel do’s and don’ts, et cetera. Take some time to read it and let me know if you have any questions when we next meet. I’ll also give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, which are very important. We’ll book a sonogram for four weeks’ time, so you can see your baby.”

She turned to the computer and logged in an appointment for a scan. Then she turned back. “That’s it for now. I promise the follow-ups won’t take quite so long.”

She stood and offered her hand to Emily to shake. Emily stood and shook the doctor’s hand, and Daniel did the same. It felt like the appointment had gone so quickly and was over in a blur, though they’d been there for such a long time. Emily had no idea how much of what she’d just heard she’d managed to absorb. It felt like basically nothing.

They left the doctor’s office and walked together out into the bright day.

“Did you take any of that in?” Emily asked Daniel as they strolled to where the car was parked.

“Not really,” he confessed. “There was just so much information.”

As they walked, Emily studied his face. He looked stressed and she wondered which bit of the appointment specifically had worried him the most. Her age-related health concerns? Her possibly elevated risk of postnatal depression? Or just the fact that he hadn’t committed every single one of the doctor’s words to memory?

“It’s all in the pamphlet,” she reassured him. “We can read it over and over again. Every night before bed, if you want.”

She laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Though Daniel nodded, he still looked tense, his gaze somewhat far away. Emily wanted to ask him what was going through his mind, to find out what the issue was for certain, but he seemed to have shut down.

She felt her own excitement begin to fade away as a result. Daniel’s attitude seemed to be becoming more at odds with her own. She couldn’t see even the smallest flicker of excitement in his eyes. It was just concern, worry, and stress that she saw in his expression.

They got into the truck and drove home in silence.

CHAPTER THREE

Doctor Arkwright’s advice for Emily to stay off her feet and reduce her stress levels to the bare minimum went immediately out the window, because Memorial Day weekend arrived all too soon and the inn was packed to the rafters.

Emily hurried down the stairs into the foyer, where guests were milling about in groups. The inn was looking beautiful thanks to Chantelle’s decorations. She’d filled the place with flags. Posters for the town parade adorned every wall. It looked set to be the best event yet. Mayor Hansen had really gone above and beyond this year, with an antique fire truck procession, the marching band from the high school, and a twenty-one-gun salute at the end. Emily was glad he’d organized such a great commemoration for the men and women who’d given their lives for the country’s freedom.

Lois and Marnie were on the front desk, both looking rushed off their feet as they took calls and answered guest queries. Ever since Bryony’s redesign of the website had led to the inn being booked for the entire summer, Emily had had to shuffle things around. Serena wanted less work so she could focus more on her degree, so Emily had promoted Marnie from maid to front of house. Then she’d hired the Magic Elves cleaning company that Amy had sourced for the wedding to fill the void left by Marnie, and had gone on to employ an extra pair of hands in the form of a porter, a young man named Trent, whose role was to carry bags upstairs for the guests on check in. Despite the hecticness, it looked like the new system was working well. For now, at least.

Emily caught up with Bryony in the guest lounge. Her laptop was resting on her knees, a pile of half drunk cups of coffee stacked on the coffee table before her. Usually there were only ever one or two people in the guest lounge, but today every single table and couch was occupied with people drinking coffee and juice, reading papers, studying maps, and planning their days out.

“I know I say this every time I see you,” Emily said to Bryony as she sat beside her, “but seriously, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for the inn. I’ve never seen it like this.”

Bryony smiled. “No problem. I just can’t wait until you get all the renovation work done for the expansion. It’ll give me a whole load of new coding to do. New forms. New pages.” Her eyes glittered with excitement.

“You really love this stuff, don’t you?” Emily said, feeling baffled herself. She’d worked in marketing for years back in New York City and hated it now with every fiber of her being.

Bryony wiggled her eyebrows. “I love it. Plus, I get to see all the mysterious guests who book in. Look at this one.” She swiveled her laptop around to show Emily the accommodation spreadsheet which was automatically populated by website bookings through the magic wizardry of computer code. “The carriage house has been booked out by Mr. X. I’m hoping he’s another Roman Westbrook.”

Emily raised her eyebrows, excited also. “Or a James Bond villain.”

Just then, a group of three men walked into the inn. They were all wearing beige slacks and polo shirts, and had varying shades of gray hair. Emily noticed then that each had a large roll of paper under their arms and realized that they weren’t some kind of traveling barbershop quartet but the architects from Erik & Sons, with their initial sketches for renovating Trevor’s house.

She and Daniel had approached a local family firm, hoping they’d have a more sympathetic approach. As she leaped up now and walked toward them, she realized by their eerily similar appearances that they were the “& Sons” contingent. She shook each of their hands, blinking, feeling like she was looking at the same person three times over.

“We’re triplets,” the man with the lightest gray hair explained. “I’m Wayne. This is Cain. And that’s Shane, the youngest by five minutes.”

“My chances of remembering whose name belongs to who are more or less zero,” Emily confessed.

“We don’t mind,” Wayne Erik continued. “We’ve had fifty-five years of being confused with each other. If we had a problem with it, we probably wouldn’t dress the same.”

He grinned, indicating their matching Erik & Sons navy blue polo shirts.

“Please,” Emily said, “let us go and find somewhere quiet where we can spread these out. I know we’re meeting for a tour of the house later today, but I’m so happy to take a look at these now.”

She led them from the bustling foyer and into the empty dining room, whereby the Erik triplets unrolled their sketches onto the large walnut table.

Emily peered down at the designs, one scroll per floor of the house. The plans looked phenomenal, grand and rather exciting. But seeing Trevor’s house pared down to lines and measurements on pieces of paper felt so odd to her, so unpleasant and final. She felt herself getting choked up.