Until Autumn - Sheridan Anne Page 0,24
a small bump, but her file insisted that she was at least five months along. Her baby should be larger by this stage of her pregnancy, especially when considering the size of her frame. It has me desperate to get her onto my examination table.
“You must be Ashleigh,” I say, my voice low while making a point of not moving toward her in my need to not frighten her. She nods, and I wave my hand toward the seat opposite my desk. “Please, come in.”
Ashleigh nervously glances up at me before quickly scanning my office again. She gives me a tight smile, and after letting out a shaky breath, she moves past me into the room.
The need to leave the door open pulses through me, wanting to give her the feeling of an easy escape even though she is more than safe with me, but the need to protect her privacy has me gently closing the door behind her.
“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