was going to be a sin a day, and even though I don’t go to church, I knew I’d have a little twinge of guilt every time I took it. So I went into Dr. Wiseman’s office one day, got my coil and my guilt, and went home and forgot about it.”
Sally frowned. “Dr. Wiseman?” she repeated. “Arthur Wiseman?”
“Do you know him?”
“He’s my doctor.”
Jan Ransom chuckled hollowly. “Now what do you suppose the odds are on that? Two women, the same doctor, the same device, the same failure, and then SIDS.”
Sally Montgomery did not share Jan’s amusement. What, she wondered, were the odds? She began calculating in her head, but there were too many variables.
“… and you have to go on living,” she heard Jan saying.
“You sound like my mother.”
“And like my own. Sally, it’s hard to accept what’s happened. No one knows that better than I do. But there’s nothing else you can do. Nothing’s going to bring Julie back and nothing’s going to make you feel better. All you can do is try to let the wounds start to heal.”
“But I can’t do that,” Sally said quietly. “I can’t just go on as if nothing happened. Something did happen and I have to know what it was.” She held up a hand as Jan started to say something. “And don’t tell me it was SIDS. I won’t accept that It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“But that’s just it, Sally. Don’t you see? SIDS doesn’t make sense—that’s the awful part of it.”
Sally sat silently, her eyes meeting Jan Ransom’s. “Do you think I’m going crazy?” she asked at last.
Jan chewed on her lower lip a moment, then shook her head. “No. No more than I went crazy the first few months. Do what you have to do, Sally. In time it will all work out.” Then she smiled ruefully. “You know something? I was hoping I might be able to help you today—help you cut some corners. But I can’t, can I? All I can do is let you know that I understand what you’re going through. You have to go through it yourself.” She raised her glass.
“Good luck.”
The clinic seemed oddly quiet as Sally walked down the green-walled corridor toward Arthur Wiseman’s office, and the sound of her heels clicking on the tile floor echoed with an eerie hollowness. But it’s not the clinic that seems empty, she decided as she turned the last corner. It’s me. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here, so it seems strange. Strange and scary. Then she stepped into Dr. Wiseman’s outer office. His nurse looked up at her, smiling uncertainly.
“Mrs. Montgomery? Did you have an appointment today?” She reached for her book.
“No,” Sally reassured her. “I was just hoping maybe I could talk to the doctor for a couple of minutes. Would it be possible?”
The nurse turned her attention to the appointment book, then nodded. “I think we can just shoehorn you in.” She grinned and winked conspiratorially. “In fact, it’s an easy fit—I had a cancellation an hour ago, and the doctor was counting on an hour to himself. We just won’t give it to him.” She stood up, then, after tapping briefly on the closed door to the inner office, went in. A moment later she reappeared. “Go right in, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Arthur Wiseman was waiting for her, his hand outstretched, his expression cordial. “Sally! What a pleasant surprise.” The smile melted from his face to be replaced by a look of concern. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“I don’t know,” Sally said pensively, settling herself into the chair next to his desk. “I just wanted to ask you about a couple of things. I’ve been talking to some people, including Janelle Ransom.”
Wiseman’s brows rose a little. “Jan? How did you meet her?”
“The SIDS Foundation. Steve and I went to one of the meetings they sponsor.”
“I see. And Jan was there?”
Sally nodded. “We had lunch today, and I discovered something that worries me. We were both using IUDs when we got pregnant.”
“And?” Wiseman asked.
“And, well, I suppose it just seemed like too much of a coincidence that we were both using IUDs and both got pregnant and both lost our daughters to SIDS.”
Wiseman sighed heavily and leaned back. Here it comes, he thought. When there is no easy explanation for a death, the family turns on the doctor. “Just what is it you think might have happened?”
“I don’t know,” Sally admitted. “It just occurred to me that perhaps the IUD might