Thursdays At Eight by Debbie Macomber Page B

ninety-nine percent effective…
    I’m not pregnant. I couldn’t be. I’m methodical about my vitamins and my birth control pill. I don’t miss. Ever. I refuseto think like this. A pregnancy now would be a disaster. I’m finished with the baby stage and couldn’t imagine going back.
    No need to borrow trouble when a baby simply isn’t a possibility. Besides, I’d know if I was pregnant. I did with Adam and Zoe. Both times, within ten days of conception, I sensed the changes in my body. It felt as though everything inside me had welcomed this new life taking shape. There’s no celebration happening now.
    I’m ending this right here because I can’t deal with what I’m thinking. I am not pregnant. I don’t want to be pregnant and I refuse to torment myself with something that has only a one-percent chance of being true.
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    â€œI don’t need a urine test,” Julia insisted, meeting Dr. Lucy Snyder’s unyielding gaze. “I already told you a pregnancy just isn’t possible.”
    Dr. Snyder rolled the stool closer to the examination table where Julia sat, clutching the paper gown to her stomach, her bare feet dangling.
    â€œThe pelvic exam suggests otherwise,” Doc Snyder said quietly.
    â€œI can’t be pregnant.” Julia didn’t know why she felt the need to argue when a pregnancy was now almost a certainty. The queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with morning sickness and everything to do with her state of mind.
    â€œWith the pill, there’s always that slight risk,” the doctor murmured.
    Julia adamantly shook her head.
    â€œYou say you never missed a pill? Not even once?”
    â€œNot even once!” Julia cried, fighting back emotion so negative her voice actually shook.
    Dr. Snyder read the chart. “What about when you had that flu virus?”
    â€œI took my pills,” Julia said.
    â€œYou kept them down?”
    â€œDown? What do you mean down?” Julia asked.
    â€œAccording to the chart, you suffered projectile vomiting for three days.”
    Julia’s forehead broke into a sweat. “Yes…And I didn’t eat solids for a full seven days.” Her stomach hadn’t tolerated anything other than weak tea and a few sips of chicken broth.
    â€œI’d like you to have a urine test,” the doctor said. “Just to be sure, one way or the other.”
    Numbness was spreading through Julia’s arms and legs as she nodded. Dr. Snyder patted her shoulder and quietly slipped out of the room.
    If she was pregnant, Julia could pinpoint the night it happened—after the tremendous success of her first yarn sale. She’d been incredibly happy. Adam and Zoe had spent the night with her sister, and Julia and Peter had celebrated with a rare evening out, followed by an incredible night of lovemaking.
    After providing the nurse with the necessary sample, Julia slowly dressed. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the buttons of her blouse. She’d just finished when Dr. Snyder came into the cubicle with the results.
    Their eyes met, and in that instant Julia knew the awful truth. It was what she’d dreaded most. She was pregnant. Whatever Dr. Snyder said after that was a complete blur. She walked out of the office in a stupor and toward the parking garage.
    The next thing Julia knew, she was at Benjamin Franklin Elementary, the grade school where Peter had been principal for the last four years.
    â€œMrs. Murchison, this is a pleasant surprise,” the school secretary said warmly.
    For the life of her, Julia couldn’t recall the older woman’s name, although she’d been working with Peter as long as he’d been at Ben Franklin. Linda Dooley, she remembered. It was Linda.
    â€œIs Peter available?” Managing the question demanded full concentration on Julia’s part. Her head continued to buzz, her mind skipping from one