Fifteen Days Later ….
With a deep breath, Meg pushed the double doors of Dr. Milton's office open and walked inside. Two couples sat in the small waiting room, the men staring mindlessly at a sports caster on television while the women flipped through old magazines and glanced nervously at their husbands.
"Good morning, Ms. Thatcher." Katie, the receptionist greeted Meg when she signed the clip board lying on the counter surrounded by glass.
"Hello." Meg smiled politely then took a seat in the waiting room. Looking at the clock ticking loudly on the wall opposite the receptionist's desk, the lady Mountie noted that she was over half an hour early for her appointment.
"Great, I hate waiting." Meg thought as she found a fairly recent Good Housekeeping magazine and began flipping through the picture perfect photos of people's homes. They looked fake, staged for the photographer. Meg laid the magazine aside and began rummaging through her purse for her address book. A moment later one of the couples, white man and woman, both in their early forties, were called back. Twenty minutes later the second couple, an African American couple in their mid twenties, were called, leaving Meg alone in the waiting room.
She'd gone through her address book, mentally compiling a list of people to invite to a baby shower, hopefully soon. That thought made her happy. When she got to Fraser's name, Meg paused. How would he take the news that she was trying to have a child? When they'd had that silly misunderstanding about helping her with the adoption process, he'd seemed willing to step in and father her child. Meg wondered if having another man's child would make him think less of her. She held her finger in the F section of the address book for a moment, pondering.
"Ms. Thatcher" Katie called through the sliding glass window. Her voice jerked Meg out of her thoughts and back to the task at hand.
Dr. Milton came into his office carrying Meg's chart, his glasses in the other hand. The Canadian's heart beat like a hummingbird's as she waited anxiously for the results of her tests.
"Hello, Ms. Thatcher, how are you?" Milton asked, his light eyes glassy without his glasses.
"I'm well, thank you." Meg managed to answer without pouncing on the doctor, demanding an answer to the questions she'd been dreaming up for the last two weeks.
"I'm not a fan of small talk, Ms. Thatcher, so I'll get down to business." Milton laid her file on the desk and put his glasses on. Meg's heart went from beating overtime to nearly stopped. His tone didn't sound hopeful.
"I'd appreciate that, Dr. Milton." Meg swallowed and took a deep breath.
"From the tests we ran earlier this month, you aren't the best candidate for in vitro fertilization I've ever seen, the chances of a successful pregnancy are very slim," Meg sat back against the hard chair, the wind knocked out of her.
"But, Ms. Thatcher, they are within acceptable parameters, barely." He stressed the last word as he leaned forward at his desk. All Meg heard was the acceptable part of the sentence. If anyone could overcome a challenge, she knew it would be her.
Milton went on to explain a lot of technical medical stuff that Meg didn't quite understand, despite the last two weeks of discreet, after work research she'd been doing at the Cook County Library.
"I'll have my staff send you a copy of your test results for your files and I'll see you next week." Meg and the doctor shook hands before she left the mundane office. Her heeled feet floated along down the sidewalk as her brain spun.
Three Days Later ….
"Fraser, I believe Turnbull mixed up our mail." Thatcher said as she walked toward her subordinate officer's open door.
"Yes, I believe so." Benton stood up quickly, a stack of mail in hand. He avoided eye contact, rubbing his eye brow. The longer Inspector Thatcher stood there the more his face reddened.
"Constable Fraser, did you look through this correspondence by chance?" Meg's tone was casual but her heart thundered I her chest. Fraser stood absolutely still, looking at a spot off to her left. He took his time answering.
"Yes, I did, Inspector." The Mountie finally answered, swallowing hard.
"From your reaction I see you found something of a personal nature." Meg sighed. She didn't feel like having this conversation with Fraser, not today.
"I might as well tell him now, before the changes start." The lady Inspector thought to herself as she stepped across the tiny office and closed the door. After taking a deep breath, and taking a seat across the desk from him, Meg met his eyes squarely. Fraser took his seat, confused but silent.
"Constable Fraser, I've decided to undergo in vitro fertilization, hopefully, within the next few months I'll become pregnant." Meg watched Fraser's eyes widen a fraction and his face go into a neutral mask.
"I thought you should know as it will affect your duties here at the consulate." Meg went into 'Inspector' mode.
"Yes, it shall." Fraser's tone was neutral as he sat very straight in his swivel chair. Meg was dying to know what his opinion on the subject was but dared not ask for fear of his disapproval. She got up from her chair, taking the stack of mail Fraser handed her after he stood up and walked toward the door. He trailed along behind her, reaching around her to open the door.
"Best of luck, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser wished her, his light eyes meeting hers as they stood in close quarters.
"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg saw such sincerity in his green eyes. "If only it were your child instead." She thought to herself as she walked out into the hallway.
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Fraser closed the door behind Inspector Thatcher after she left his office. He took a seat at his desk, a half finished report in the typewriter. Her admission had blown him away. Ben knew she wanted children, he recalled quite well the misunderstanding they'd had when she asked him for his help. The prospect of being a father, even if it were as more of a sperm donor sort of role, had been exciting at the time, terrifying, but exciting.
"Is she that lonely?" Ben wondered as he stared into space toward the filing cabinets lining the opposite wall. He could understand loneliness, he'd felt plenty of it in his life, so much so that it had become almost a companion.
"I should make an effort to be more of a friend to her." The Mountie determined, almost immediately realizing the hurdles ahead of his endeavor.
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