He turns away from packing his briefcase to face her. "Tell me when. I'll go with you."
This suggestion does not surprise her. She shrugs and smiles a little, just enough to turn up the corners of her mouth. "I already made it, actually. I see Dr. Walsh on Friday at 10."
He starts to nod, then stops. "Dr. Walsh? What about Dr. Mark-"
Bridget interrupts smoothly. "I did some research. Dr. Walsh is one of the top prenatal specialists in the city, and I want only the best care during this pregnancy." She twines her fingers together, waits, thinking that Andrew can hardly argue with this reasoning.
He eyes her for a few seconds before replying, "Friday at 10? I'll drive you."
He does, a protective shadow at her side. Dr. Walsh is a middle-aged woman, calm and efficient. She really does have that sterling reputation Bridget cited to Andrew, but she also possesses something much more important: ignorance. Here is a doctor who has never seen Siobhan before, who has no idea what her normal blood pressure or heart rate should be. The best thing about Dr. Walsh is that she will not expose Bridget's charade.
At the end of the appointment, Bridget catches Dr. Walsh's eye with a significant look. The doctor, through long experience, correctly interprets her expression. "Mr. Martin, if you would please step into the waiting room while I finish up with your wife?"
Once she is alone with the doctor, Bridget quickly explains her concerns and receives the reassurance she needs. Then she joins Andrew outside. When they walk out of the office together, he reaches for her hand. His feels big and warm, and she relaxes her fingers within his grasp.
On Monday morning, Dr. Walsh's nurse calls her with a request that she come into the office as soon as possible. The timing is perfect; Andrew has not yet left for work. "My husband and I will be there in half an hour," Bridget informs the woman.
Andrew's irritation at being delayed for work dissipates when he hears the reason why. He again drives on their way to the doctor's office, mouth set in a firm line. Bridget tells the nurse why they are here, and they wait only a few moments before the woman returns to lead them into Dr. Walsh's office.
They do a lot of listening, and the expected phrases roll and echo inside Bridget's head. "The tests show... not pregnant... possible miscarriage... the first test results may have been inaccurate... very sorry." Andrew asks several questions; she asks none.
After it ends, she lets Andrew lead her back to the car. He keeps a solid grip, and at first she wonders if he thinks she'll run away otherwise. Then a drop runs down her cheek and off her chin, and it occurs to her that she is crying silently. Which makes no sense; she was never pregnant in the first place, yet she cries without meaning to.
In the car, Andrew does not immediately start the engine. Instead he reaches for her, wraps her in a firm embrace. When he speaks, his voice is hesitant for the first time she can remember. "Siobhan... I know you told me you never wanted to talk about this... but are you thinking about him? About... Sean?"
Then she cries again, harder, for everything and everyone, for her sister, for her nephew, and for the other child Siobhan will never have, and she also cries for her old life, the few parts of it worth lamenting anyway, and through it all, Andrew holds her. And she leans into him, soaking his shirt, heart pounding so near his, and she stays there, stays forever.