Everly

In the month after Joanna left, I did everything I could to get my life back in order. I went to see the therapist she recommended, who gave me a prescription for some antidepressants as well as a much-needed person to talk to. I packed up my things, found a cute rental in a small beach-side suburb half an hour away from our old place. It was tiny, but it was clean, and better yet, it was affordable. The soft sighing of the ocean sent me to sleep every night.

Going back to work proved the harder obstacle to overcome.

“Everly!” Kellie squealed as soon as the door whooshed closed behind me. She sprung up from her seat behind the counter, rushing around to throw her long arms around me. “Sweetie, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Thanks.” I pressed my eyes closed for a moment. The familiar smell of lemon cleaning wipes and roses lingered in the air—two scents I could place to this very room, to memories of happiness and heartbreak, all at once.

She pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “How you doing?”

Pity. It was written all over her face, and I knew her question was much more loaded than it seemed. How did she know? “I’m … I’m getting by. Thank you.”

“Bentley called and told us all what happened—with the … well, you know. We’re all here for you if you need to talk about it.”

Of course he did. My ex-husband and number-one hero had told my workmates about my most intimate failure. “Thanks.”

“Of course. So, I’ve got you on a light load today. Denise, who’s been covering for you, is in as well, and she’ll take a bulk of the patients. We thought we’d ease you back in. Not shock you too much.” She squeezed my arm, the tiny lines around her eyes deepening as she smiled.

“Thanks.” I nodded, then looked down the hall toward the break room. I gestured to my bag. “I’ll just …”

“Yes, of course. You go on. First patients are in at eight.”

“Thanks again.” I walked down the hall.

I stowed my bag on the shelf with my name on it, turning toward the pigeonholes where we kept our patient files. Out of habit, I looked for my name.

Everly Jenkins.

It should have been empty.

But one manila folder was wedged into that square hole.

One lonely folder.

I swallowed down the excess saliva in my mouth. Without looking, I knew whose folder that would be. When I called to say that I needed to take some personal time, and that things with Bentley and I were over, they’d have handed all my patient files to my replacement.

All except for the one patient who wasn’t coming back.

Slowly, I sank to the floor, dragging the folder with me, and opened it up.

Isabella Kennedy.

Thirty.

Due date: 12 May 2016

My breath shook out between my lips as I thudded my head against the hard metal cabinet behind me. Oh, Bella.

“Oh! Hi. Didn’t see you there.” A woman with cropped, blonde hair that fell to her square jaw bustled into the room, stashing her bag next to mine. “You must be Everly, then.”

“Hi.”

“An unusual name, Everly. Quite pretty. Do you like it?”

I shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

“Ah, I bet it’s one they always get wrong when you order a coffee, am I right? Beverly, Effer … err, well, I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ve heard some good ones.” She stopped in front of the mirror on the back of the door, straightening her pink and orange top before her hand flew to her lips. “Goodness gracious, where are my manners? I’m Denise. Denise Hendelson. I’ve been looking after your patients while you’ve been on leave.”

I pushed to my feet, still clutching the folder close to my chest. I held my other arm out. “Hi, Denise.”

“Hi indeed. So lovely to hear you’re back.” She shook my hand with enthusiasm. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed filling in for you, mind. Something different to my normal gig. As well as being a midwife, I’m a writer. For a parenting blog.”

“You are?”

“Sure am! Hey, we’re always looking for new contributors, if you want to earn a bit of extra cash on the side. Midwifes like us can specialise in newborn advice, and pregnancy tips. I’m not supposed to say, but a certain news mogul owns it—so there’s a bit of cash to be had.”

Isabella. Isabella Kennedy.

Thirty.

Due date: 12 May 2016

“Everly?”

“Sorry.” I shrugged, looking down at the folder before meeting her round blue eyes. “First day back. Just a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sure there is.” She sighed, her square shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “Love, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it—”

“Thank you, I really—”

“But I just wanted to tell you how rotten I think this whole business is. I had an ex who did the dirty on me, and it broke my heart. As much as you don’t want to hear it right now, there are plenty more fish in the sea. Ones who swim better, if you know what I mean.” Her plump elbow nudged me in the side, then she gave a merry laugh, as if she’d just cracked some amazing joke.

I managed to giggle along with her, but only to keep up appearances.

“Okay, let’s get started. Busy day and all that.” Denise walked to the sink, turning the tap on full bore and pumping soap enthusiastically onto her large hands.

“Everly.”

I spun back to the door.

Dr Rosalie stood there as if she were a queen, so calm, so composed. I’d never felt more like her unworthy subject.

“Rosalie, hi.” I swallowed, suddenly lost for words.

“I’m pleased you’re back. And I hope we have you here for good now.” She gave a curt nod before making eye contact with the other woman in the room. “Denise.”

“Mornin’, Rosie!” Denise sang, and Dr Rosalie left, her pace slow, that aura of peace following her as she exited the room.

“A bit of a ballbreaker, isn’t she?” Denise nudged me again.

“She’s the best obstetrician I’ve ever met,” I replied truthfully. When it came to delivering babies, there wasn’t much Rosalie didn’t know.

“Ah, she is good. I’ll see you out there.” Denise walked into the hall, pulling the door to behind her.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirror on the back of the door. Boring blue eyes. Pale skin that looked as if it hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, maybe months, and in all honesty, I knew it had been a while.

A manila folder, clutched so tight in my grip that the whites of my knuckles showed.

That damn manila folder.

Isabella. Isabella Kennedy.

Thirty.

Due date: 12 May 2016.

Voices from the reception area reached me. I had to go. But what was I going to do with—

“Everly, your first patient is in,” Kellie’s voice sounded through the office intercom, jerking me to life.

I shook my head, then stuffed the folder back in my pigeon hole before washing my hands at the sink. I’d ask Kel to file it appropriately later. As I wiped my hands on the towel, I gave myself a short pep talk. You can do this, Everly. You have to do this.

My feet clipped along the white tiled floor, stopping next to reception.

“Alicia Nobell, twenty-five. First appointment, first baby.” Kellie handed me a thin file, nodding toward a blonde woman sitting next to a bearded man in the far corner of the room.

“Got it. Thanks.” I raised my voice. “Alicia?”

She looked up, and I smiled.

“Come through.”

* * *

The day went smoothly. All my patients were in good physical health, and I wondered if Rosalie had perhaps engineered that, easing me into my first day back on the job.

The problem was, it didn’t matter.

First, it was the way a woman clenched the material at the side of her T-shirt as she waited for the ultrasound wand to find her baby.

Next, it was the lady with the long red hair, carefully pulled back into a manicured ponytail.

By three p.m., it was everything. It was a woman mentioning how excited she was. A lady asking if she could record the heartbeat so she could play it for her husband. Someone saying she missed coffee and wine, and espresso martinis, and me biting my tongue to stop from mentioning the café I used to frequent, the one that did the fantastic mocktails.

Three Swallows didn’t make any drinks anymore.

When six o’clock came around and the last patient left the building, I slumped down onto the faux leather bed in my appointment room. The headache that had started as a small cloud marring my vision had turned into a full-blown thunderstorm raging inside of my head. I pinched at the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

“Shit,” I whispered. I was better than this. I should have been better than this.

But I wasn’t.

Instead of being focused on work, on moving forward, I was stuck in the past, stuck on that day seven months ago.

My phone buzzed from the desk, and I slid from the bed, the material gripping to my thighs.

Joanna: How’d the first day back go? So proud of you, big sis xo

My thumb hovered over the phone. How’d it go?

Everly: Honestly, not great. But I know it will get better.

Seconds later, it vibrated again.

Joanna: Of course it will! Time heals all wounds, Ev. You got this.

“Knock, knock.”

I glanced up, placing the phone back on my desk. Rosalie stood in the doorway, her hands in the pockets of her black slacks. “Rosalie, hi.”

“Hi.” Cool grey eyes assessed me, and she nodded to the chair sitting opposite my desk. “May I?”

“Sure. Sorry. Of course.” I walked around the wooden table and sat opposite her. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to check in, see how your first day back was.”

“Oh, thank you. It went …” Well. Fine. I wanted to say those words, but for some reason, my mouth was having trouble working around them. “Not what I expected.”

“It wasn’t?” Rosalie’s tone held no judgment. “In what way?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I thought things would be different. I just … did.” I hadn’t expected that everyone would remind me of Bella. That every patient would somehow snap my memory back to the woman I’d connected with.

“Okay.” Rosalie nodded. “Things will get better with time, I imagine.” She stood, tapping her knuckles on the desk. “Just let Kellie know if you need to ease back into it a little slower.”

“No,” I blurted. No. That wasn’t what I wanted. Every patient would always be her. Represent her—her loss, and her death. Her injustice.

With absolute clarity, I knew what I had to do.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “You can resume at whatever speed you want, as long as—”

“I didn’t mean no to that.” I stood, meeting her level gaze with one of my own. With a decision of my own, something I hadn’t truly felt capable of doing for months. “I mean I can’t ease back into it at all. I’m sorry, Rosalie. I’m handing in my resignation.”