Chapter 3 - The Paper They Wanted Signed.
Leah did not sleep much that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the river from her dream.
Only now the water had been replaced by forms, signatures, charts, and Doreen’s calm smile.
At six in the morning, a young nurse named Jenna came in to check Leah’s blood pressure.
Jenna could not have been older than twenty-five.
Her blonde hair was pinned into a neat bun, and she moved with the careful politeness of someone still learning how much confidence a hospital uniform could create.
“How are you feeling?” Jenna asked.
“Tired.”
“Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Confusion?”
Leah looked at her.
“No.”
Jenna hesitated.
“Any unusual fears?”
Leah sat a little straighter.
“What counts as unusual?”
Jenna glanced at the tablet in her hand.
“Anything that feels out of character.”
Leah thought of the folded tissue hidden beneath her pillow.
DON’T SIGN HER PAPERS.
“No.”
Jenna tapped the screen.
Then she asked, “Do you feel safe with your family here?”
Leah’s eyes narrowed.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“It’s part of the screening.”
“Is everyone in this room getting the same screening?”
From the bed by the window, Simone spoke without opening her eyes.
“Nope.”
Jenna turned toward her.
Simone opened one eye.
“You asked me about swelling and breakfast.”
Jenna’s face flushed.
“The questions depend on the chart.”
Leah looked at the tablet.
“What is in my chart?”
Jenna shifted her weight.
“You can request records through the patient portal.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Jenna lowered her voice.
“I’m just doing what I was told.”
“By whom?”
Before Jenna could answer, the door opened.
Doreen walked in carrying two coffees.
She was dressed as if she had a board meeting instead of a hospital visit.
Her dark navy suit was sharply tailored.
Her short blonde hair had not moved a millimeter since the previous afternoon.
“Good morning.”
Jenna’s posture changed instantly.
“Good morning, Mrs. Carver.”
The familiarity was impossible to miss.
Doreen handed her one of the coffees.
“For you.”
Jenna blinked.
“Oh, I can’t—”
“Nonsense.”
Doreen smiled.
“You’ve been so attentive.”
Leah watched the exchange.
Jenna accepted the cup.
“Thank you.”
Doreen looked at Leah.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
“Celia said they may deliver sooner than planned.”
Leah frowned.
“When did she tell you that?”
Doreen set her purse on the chair.
“This morning.”
“She hasn’t spoken to me this morning.”
Doreen paused.
Then she smiled as if Leah had missed the obvious.
“She called me because Nathan was not answering.”
Leah picked up her phone.
The screen showed no missed calls from Dr. Rusk.
“Why would she call you before me?”
Doreen sat beside the bed.
“Because she knows I’m helping coordinate everything.”
“I never asked you to coordinate everything.”
Doreen’s eyes flicked briefly toward Jenna.
Then back to Leah.
“You’re under a lot of pressure.”
Leah felt anger tighten beneath her ribs.
“I am asking a simple question.”
“And I’m giving you a simple answer.”
Simone slowly sat up in bed.
She looked between them with open interest.
Doreen ignored her.
Then she reached into her purse and removed the leather folder.
Leah actually laughed.
“You brought it again.”
“I had the language simplified.”
“I said no.”
“This version protects Nathan too.”
“I said no.”
Jenna suddenly became fascinated with the blood-pressure cuff.
Doreen opened the folder anyway.
“This is not about taking control away from you.”
“Then why does every page give control to someone else?”
Doreen’s smile thinned.
“You are about to have major surgery.”
“I know what I am about to have.”
“Then act like it.”
The room went quiet.
For the first time, Doreen had let the edge show in front of a witness.
Leah looked at Jenna.
Jenna stared at the floor.
Simone did not.
Simone watched Doreen as if she were memorizing every movement.
Doreen placed a pen on top of the form.
“Sign the medical contingency page.”
“No.”
“Leah.”
“No.”
Doreen leaned closer.
“If something happens and you cannot make decisions, someone needs legal authority.”
“Nathan already has legal standing as the father.”
“This avoids confusion.”
“It creates confusion.”
The door opened again.
Nathan entered wearing yesterday’s shirt under a brown jacket.
He looked like he had barely slept.
Doreen turned toward him.
“Perfect timing.”
Leah watched his face.
Nathan saw the folder.
His shoulders dropped.
“Mom.”
“She still refuses.”
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck.
“Leah, can we not do this right now?”
Leah stared at him.
“I’m not the one bringing the papers back.”
Doreen stood.
“I’ll give you two privacy.”
She looked at Jenna.
“Come walk with me for a moment.”
Jenna blinked.
“I have other patients.”
“It will only take a minute.”
Jenna looked toward Leah.
Then she followed Doreen into the hallway.
The door closed.
Leah turned to Nathan.
“Why is your mother giving orders to my nurse?”
“She isn’t.”
“You just watched her do it.”
Nathan sat in the chair.
“She knows people here.”
“That is not an answer.”
He looked tired enough to be angry about being tired.
“Leah, what do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say the word no to your mother.”
Nathan looked at the folder.
“It’s backup paperwork.”
“You read it?”
He hesitated.
That was enough.
“You read it.”
“She sent it to me last week.”
Leah felt a slow pressure build behind her eyes.
“Last week?”
Nathan nodded once.
“She was trying to be prepared.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered unless there was a complication.”
“Then why is it here before the complication?”
Nathan stood.
“Because she worries.”
“No.”
Leah shook her head.
“She plans.”
“Same thing sometimes.”
“Not when the plan is my child.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Our child.”
Leah looked at him.
“Then act like his father instead of her assistant.”
Nathan flinched.
For one second, Leah expected him to defend her.
Instead he looked toward the door.
“Mom thinks you might panic after delivery.”
The sentence landed quietly.
Leah almost missed how serious it was.
“What?”
Nathan exhaled.
“You’ve been anxious.”
“I am pregnant.”
“You’ve had nightmares.”
“One nightmare.”
“You called me from the grocery store last month because you thought something was wrong with the baby.”
“I had not felt him move in four hours.”
“And everything was fine.”
“Because I went to be checked.”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
“Mom is just worried that after surgery you might not think clearly.”
Leah stared at him.
“Did you tell Dr. Rusk that?”
“No.”
“Did your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
“Leah.”
“Look at me.”
Nathan did.
“Did you give your mother anything about my anxiety?”
His silence lasted half a second too long.
Leah’s voice dropped.
“What did you give her?”
“Nothing important.”
“What did you give her?”
Nathan glanced toward Simone.
Simone immediately pulled her blanket higher and pretended to study her phone.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“A few texts.”
Leah’s mouth went dry.
“What texts?”
“The ones you sent me when you were worried.”
“Private texts?”
“She asked what was going on.”
“So you sent her screenshots?”
Nathan looked defensive now.
“She is my mother.”
“I am your wife.”
“I was trying to get advice.”
“You gave her my private messages so she could decide whether I was stable enough to have my own baby?”
“That is not what happened.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Nathan opened his mouth.
The door swung open before he could answer.
Dr. Celia Rusk entered with Doreen beside her.
Jenna followed behind them.
Dr. Rusk’s expression was professional and pleasant.
“Leah, your latest scan shows some changes.”
Leah turned toward her.
“What changes?”
“I think we should move the delivery forward.”
“How far?”
“Today.”
Leah stared at her.
Nathan immediately stepped closer to the bed.
“Today?”
Dr. Rusk nodded.
“I would rather be cautious than regret waiting.”
Doreen placed one hand on Nathan’s arm.
“You see?”
Leah looked at the doctor.
“Is the baby in distress?”
“No.”
“Am I bleeding?”
“No.”
“Is this an emergency?”
“Not at this moment.”
“Then I want another obstetrician to review the scan.”
The room became still.
Dr. Rusk’s smile faded slightly.
“You are entitled to ask.”
“I am asking.”
Doreen spoke before the doctor could continue.
“Leah, this is not the time to become difficult.”
Leah looked at her.
“I asked for a second medical opinion.”
Doreen’s mouth tightened.
Nathan stepped in.
“Can we just hear Dr. Rusk out?”
Leah felt something inside her shift.
Not break.
Clarify.
Everyone in the room seemed to be asking her to surrender one small decision at a time.
A signature.
A private message.
A delivery date.
A medical opinion.
Each request sounded reasonable when separated from the others.
Together, they felt like a door closing.
Before Leah could answer, another nurse appeared in the doorway.
She was in her thirties, with dark hair pulled back and tired but alert eyes.
Leah recognized her from the previous evening.
Her badge read MAE ROWLAND, RN.
Mae held a chart in one hand.
“Dr. Rusk, radiology is asking you to confirm which image you want reviewed.”
Dr. Rusk turned.
“I already reviewed it.”
Mae did not move.
“Dr. Patel asked whether you wanted him to add an independent read.”
Leah looked at Mae.
Dr. Rusk’s expression hardened by a fraction.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Leah spoke immediately.
“Yes, it will.”
Mae met Leah’s eyes.
Something passed between them.
Not trust yet.
Recognition.
Mae nodded.
“I’ll tell him.”
Doreen watched Mae leave.
For the first time since entering the room, Doreen looked genuinely displeased.
That evening, Dr. Patel’s review agreed that delivery might become necessary soon but found no immediate reason to rush into surgery before Leah was comfortable with the plan.
Leah felt relieved.
Doreen did not.
At nine that night, Leah woke from a short nap and saw Doreen standing near the nurses’ station outside the room.
She was speaking to Dr. Rusk.
Leah could not hear every word.
But she heard one sentence clearly.
“If she becomes more resistant after delivery, we cannot wait until discharge.”
Dr. Rusk answered too softly to hear.
Then Doreen handed her the leather folder.
From the bed near the window, Simone quietly raised her phone.
May you like
She was not taking a selfie this time.
She was recording.
