I stood and walked to the window.
Outside, evening had settled over the hospital parking lot. Cars moved beneath the lamps. Somewhere below, a woman wearing blue scrubs hurried toward the entrance carrying two coffees.
Ordinary life continued.
It felt almost insulting.
I pressed my palm against the cold glass.
“What could be worse?”
No one answered immediately.
Then Lucas said, “Your mother told Margaret that in January of 1987, she received a telephone call.”
I turned.
“From whom?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
Douglas stared at me.
“But whoever called claimed you were pregnant.”
I stopped breathing.
For one absurd second, I almost looked down at my own body.
“That isn’t possible.”
“I know.”
“I have never been pregnant.”
“I know.”
“My mother certainly would have known that.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would someone tell her I was?”
Douglas swallowed.
“That’s the question Margaret kept asking.”
I walked back to the chair.
