“Take a seat,” I tell her, indicating to the chair. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
Ashleigh shakes her head. “N … no. I’ll … I’m fine.”
“Sure thing,” I tell her, moving around my desk and dropping into my seat. “I’m Dr. Mayson, and I understand that you’ve just moved into the area. You’re five months along?”
“Yeah,” she says, biting her lip like it’s some kind of nervous habit before glancing back at the door. “Shit. I should go. This was a bad idea.”
She stands and goes to make a run for it. “Ashleigh,” I call, putting a little more force into my voice. She looks back at me and I lower my gaze to hers. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat? You’ve obviously come to me because you care about the well-being of your unborn child. I do too. It’s clear that something has you nervous, and I don’t mean to make any assumptions, but under the light, I can see the faded bruises on your arms. This is a safe place, Ashleigh. No harm will come to you while you’re in my care.”
“I … I …”
“Take a seat,” I tell her, trying to come across as soothing.
She finally nods and drops back into her seat as I stand and cross the room to the iced water jug my assistant puts in here every morning. I pour her a glass of water and silently take it over to her before placing it down on the table.
Making my way back to my desk, I take her in. Her eyes are still wide and nervous, but the jumpiness seems to have faded. “I really do care,” she tells me as I take my seat. “You know, about my baby.”
“I can see that,” I say with a warm smile. “The fact that you’re here proves it.”
“Thank you, that makes me feel as though I’m actually doing something right in all of this.”
“All of this?” I question, picking up on the subtle hint that she wants me to ask more, to push her to be open about her situation. She needs help, but she's too scared to come right out and ask for it. “What’s going on, Ashleigh? Are you and your baby in danger?”
“I, uhh …” she pauses as tears threaten to fill her eyes, and I give her a moment to collect herself. “I don’t know what to do or where to go. I haven’t actually told anyone about this, but I knew that I had to do something because I don’t want to lose my baby.”
“Lose your baby?” I question, my gaze darkening as anger for this poor girl begins to take over me. “Who’s threatening to take your child?”
“My husband,” she murmurs, glancing down at her hands as though she’s ashamed. “He doesn’t think that I’m going to be a good enough mother and has been telling me that the second my child is born, he’s going to take her away so that I’ll never see her.”
“And the bruises?” I ask, clenching my jaw.
“Him,” she whispers. “I told him that there was no way he was taking my baby away from me, and that’s when he started hitting me. I tried running. I was maybe three months along, and he found me within two days. He said that if I ever took off like that again, he’d kill me, and the look in his eyes … he truly meant it.”
Devastation pours through me at the thought of this woman living in pain and fear for the past few months at the hands of the man who is supposed to love her unconditionally. “You’re a strong woman, Ashleigh,” I tell her, meaning it right from the bottom of my heart. “You found the courage to get out of that situation and make a fresh start for you and your child.”
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have,” she says with tears in her eyes. “He’s going to find me. I just know it. He’s going to take my baby and turn her into a monster just like him.”
“You’re going to be okay. I’ll get you the number for the local women’s shelter, they are trained to handle situations like this. They’ll keep you safe and show you how to rebuild your life. You’re going to be okay.”
She glances back up at me. “How do you know?”
I lean across my desk and rest my hand over the top of hers, meeting her eyes and telling her exactly what I already know to be true. “Because you’ve already come this far, which shows me just how badly you want this. A woman protecting her unborn child is unstoppable. You’re not going to let him win.”
Ashleigh swallows over the lump in her throat before letting out a heavy breath and finally nodding in agreement. “You’re right. I can do this.”
“You can,” I tell her. “Now, what do you say we check out what’s going on with your baby and make sure that she’s just as strong as her mother?”
Ashleigh nods, and as I stand, she stands with me. “I’d like nothing more.”
Just like that, I lead her to my examination room, and after confirming that her daughter is measuring small, but is in fact strong like her mother, I prescribe a few things to help get her back on track.
By the time we’re finished with our appointment, the amazing women from one of the best shelters in town are waiting out in the lobby, ready to help her start her new life away from the fear of her abusive husband.
The afternoon sun shines down over the west side of the hospital, shining straight through my office window and making me feel as though I’m in some kind of sauna. My assistant has had the afternoon off, and apparently, remembering menial tasks like turning on the air conditioning is harder than it ought to be.
I get up from my desk and walk across my office to the door. I can’t even remember where the switch for the damn air conditioning is. How is it that I can perform complicated surgeries but can’t remember to press a damn button?
As I make my way out of my office and to my assistant’s desk out front, I check the time. I have a scheduled cesarean in an hour and will need to check in on my patient soon to make sure that she’s doing well and ready to go. Add the woman from this morning and the usual afternoon rush, and my afternoon is bound to be crazy.
I start searching for the switch for the air-conditioner and am just about to give up when a feminine throat clears by the entrance of the main door to my office. My head snaps up to find Autumn leaning against the doorframe with the four massive ‘Policies & Procedures’ folders.
I press my lips into a hard line, trying my damn hardest not to crack a grin as I take in the less than impressed glare in her eye. The folders nearly reach her chin, and I don’t doubt that they’re heavy, but she doesn’t make a move to put them down.
The ball is in her court here. I haven’t seen her since our little run-in at the bar yesterday, but already I feel as though something has changed.
The awkward professionalism from yesterday seems to be gone and all that’s left is a girl glaring at the guy who gave her a bullshit task that she couldn’t say no to.
“Looking for something?” she questions.
I straighten from Laura’s desk and raise a brow as I watch her. “The AC controller,” I explain. “Laura forgot to turn it on before she left, and now my office feels like a fucking sauna.”