Chapter Thirteen
The drive to Margery’s house took less time than Ellen expected.
Even with the rain falling steadily now, a gray mist hugging the trees, and the low water crossings threatening to swell, she made good time.
That, she told herself, was a good sign.
The dirt and gravel roads were rutted from last weekend’s hailstorm, and wet from the rain last night, but she hadn’t needed the four-wheel drive, not even on the steep driveway that climbed up through the cedar trees to the small house Doug Sutton had finished building just before his deployment.
Ellen parked under the carport next to Margery Sutton’s old Bronco and grabbed her waterproof bag. Her boots hit the wet gravel with a crunch. Before she could knock, the door opened. Susie stood there, barefoot, her long blond hair pulled back into a messy braid. Her expression was tight.
“She’s been having these cramps since last night. Nothing regular. But she says she just doesn’t feel right. And then the blood—it freaked me out more than Margery.”
Ellen gave her a reassuring nod. “That’s why I’m here.”
She was glad she came. She liked Susie, but she was definitely more high-strung than her older sister. If Ellen could get them both to remain calm, that would go a long way toward alleviating many complications.
Inside, the house smelled like lavender and cinnamon—someone had been baking or maybe trying to soothe nerves.
Faint instrumental music that Ellen couldn’t identify floated through the speakers.
Margery lay on the couch, curled on her side, her hand pressed low against her belly.
Her pale hair clung to her forehead and she looked more tired than usual. But she smiled when she saw Ellen.
“I’m so sorry I got you out in this bad weather,” she said.
“Better safe than sorry,” Ellen said, setting her bag on the coffee table. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
She knelt beside the couch, her tone gentle but firm. “Tell me everything. When did the cramping start?”
“Last night, around two in the morning, I woke up to pee—I swear I have to pee every hour on the hour.”
Ellen laughed. “I remember those days.”
“It wasn’t sharp or anything, just a little tight, maybe? I went back to sleep and a couple hours later got up to pee and the cramp came back.”
“Where specifically is the cramp?”
“Mostly my lower back, but then this morning it kind of radiated around my lower belly.” She rubbed her hands under her belly to illustrate. “And then after breakfast, that’s when I had the spotting. But it hasn’t come back.”
“Spotting is normal, but not continued bleeding. You know the difference?”
“Yes. The book you gave me explained it well. It was spotting.”
“Okay.” Ellen nodded, slipping on a blood pressure cuff. “Any headaches? Blurred vision?”
Margery shook her head. “No. Just tired.”
“Good.” She took Margery’s hand and gave it a light squeeze before inflating the cuff. While the pressure dial climbed, Ellen spoke low, almost conversational. “Baby moving well?”
Margery smiled, her eyes lighting up. “More squirmy than usual. I can’t wait to meet Bump.”
Margery was the first woman Ellen had worked with in years who hadn’t wanted to peek at the baby’s gender.
Ellen liked that. She hadn’t looked with her first, but the others?
Yeah, she had wanted to know. Sometimes she wished she had just been surprised, because there were so few good surprises in the world anymore.
Ellen released the valve and watched the numbers drop—140 over 90. Higher than Ellen wanted, but not in the danger zone. She made a note in her logbook.
“Let’s check your other vitals. Then I’ll want to do a quick exam.”
Margery nodded. Susie hovered near the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest, trying to look calm but clearly fighting the urge to ask a hundred questions. Ellen caught her eye and offered a calm, practiced smile.
“Can you bring Margery a glass of water? Or something with electrolytes if you’ve got it?” she asked.
“Yeah—yes, of course.” Susie turned to the fridge like she was grateful for something to do.
Ellen checked Margery’s pulse, respiration, then used her Doppler to find the baby’s heartbeat. The galloping rhythm filled the living room, strong and steady.
“There’s our little one,” Ellen said, and Margery let out a happy sigh, a smile on her lips.
She moved methodically, palpating Margery’s belly, feeling the firmness of the uterus, checking for any signs of early labor. No contractions she could measure yet, but the tightness could be Braxton Hicks.
When Susie returned with a glass of Gatorade over ice, Ellen guided Margery to sip slowly, then helped her sit up so she could take her weight and temperature properly.
Ellen made notes in her small, leather-bound book, flipping pages back to compare earlier measurements. This was the third visit in two weeks where Margery’s blood pressure had edged upward. Not dangerous yet, but not trending in the right direction.
Still, the blood tests had been normal, and the urine test done two weeks ago at her last appointment showed no sign of protein that would be a clear indicator of preeclampsia.
“Okay,” she said gently, sitting on the ottoman across from Margery. “Your blood pressure’s a bit high. It’s not alarming, but I want to keep an eye on it. Baby sounds great, and there’s no immediate sign of labor, but I’m going to hang out for the next hour or so, just to watch.”
Margery nodded, eyes wide but calm. “You think it’s preeclampsia?”
“It might just be stress,” Ellen said carefully.
“Or the weather. Or nothing at all. But we won’t guess.
We’ll watch. And I’m going to leave a message for Dr. Patel, just as a precaution, so he can decide if he wants any labs drawn or a hospital check later.
I’m pretty sure if your blood pressure doesn’t increase, he won’t want you out on the roads today. ”
Margery looked half-panicked. “I don’t want to leave. There’s a flood watch in effect, and we have to cross Rock Creek to get to the highway. It floods all the time.”
“And being calm means not thinking about things like floods or driving in this storm. Right?”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
Ellen smiled reassuringly, then called Dr. Patel. He didn’t answer, but she didn’t expect him to. She left a message.
“Hi, Ron, it’s Ellen McKenna. I’m with Margery Sutton right now—she’s a couple days shy of thirty-three weeks.
You last saw her two weeks ago in your office.
She’s having some intermittent cramping, low back pain, and fatigue.
Her BP is 140 over 90, pulse normal, her last urine test showed no proteinuria, fetal heart rate strong, no signs of labor at this point.
I’ll be monitoring her vitals every fifteen minutes for the next hour.
Neither of us want her to be out in the storm, unless you say we absolutely need to get her in. Let me know what you want to do.”
She hit end, then turned back toward the living room.
The rain still whispered against the windows, steady but not dangerous yet.
She wanted to go home, check on her family, make sure that Avery and Bobby made it back safe.
Make sure Jake didn’t do something dangerous like climb onto the barn roof.
Make sure Penny wasn’t overdoing it in the kitchen, and that Lyla had eaten lunch.
But for the next hour, she could be here for Margery.
She sat back down, asked about what she had been eating. Susie had kept a good log. “She doesn’t eat a lot at one time, but she eats often!” Susie said with a laugh.
“That’s very normal, and actually good for her and the baby. Her stomach has shrunk as the baby has grown.”
“I’m craving pickles. Isn’t that so cliché?” Margery said.
“Probably salt. Too much salt is bad, but too little salt is bad, too. Have a pickle whenever you want. What might be good is a bean salad, tossed in olive oil and a good red wine vinegar. Garlic salt and pepper maybe.”
“I can do that!” Susie said. She went back to the kitchen, relieved, it seemed, that she had something productive to do.
Ellen asked, “How’s Doug? Have you talked to him lately?”
Margery shook her head. “He was supposed to call me yesterday afternoon. He didn’t know when he’d be able to, he usually has a window he can call, and his night is my day.
But he didn’t call, and I didn’t get a message.
So of course I had to look up where his aircraft carrier is now, and it’s still in the Mediterranean and everything seems fine, but… ” She shrugged.
“You’re worried.”
She nodded. “He’s really good about calling me, and he emails almost every day. But I haven’t heard from him at all in two days…”
Which, Ellen thought, was why her blood pressure was elevated.
“Listen to me, Margery,” she said firmly.
“You are worried about Doug, and that is normal, but your stress is not good for the baby or you. If your blood pressure spikes, there’s no choice but to go to the hospital.
So for now, we are going to think only positive thoughts.
We are not going to think anything bad; we’re not going to read anything sad.
No news, no social media, nothing but focusing on growing this beautiful baby. ”
“You’re right, I know you’re right.”
“Good.” Thunder rolled through the sky and Margery jumped. “Hey, it’s just a little storm,” Ellen said.
“Little?” Margery raised an eyebrow.
“Honestly, you’re in the best place in the valley. You are on one of the highest hills, you have a generator if the power goes out, and you have a wood-burning fireplace.”
“Doug really thought of everything,” she said, smiling.
“You found a good one,” Ellen said, then thought about John.
She had found a good one, too. And now he was gone.
She remembered being young, pregnant, full of trepidation and deep joy.
John worked hard, but he was with her every night, giving her back rubs, going downstairs to get her a dish of ice cream in the middle of the night, telling her he loved her every single day.