It is 10:30 on Sunday night, and Grace Connor is cleaning the apartment. She put the shoes back in the closet, checked on the bread rising in the refrigerator, and turned off the lights. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put on the eye cream she liked so much.
In the bedroom of their apartment, she pulled down the quilt and the 250-thread count sheets. The pillows were placed squarely in the center of the bed, since she would take up the entire bed in a luxurious spread with John gone.
The Tiffany lamp on the nightstand tossed enough light onto the bed for her to read a few pages of David Copperfield before she went to bed. But her eyes were watery and she couldn’t focus on the text, instead placing her book mark in a few pages into the text and placing it on the nightstand.
The clock read 11:05. John would be home tomorrow from South Korea, where he was attending some conference on international trade laws. He would be stopping in Olympia to see his parents and pick up the last box of belongings from their house, which he would bring back with him. After they got married he had moved into Grace’s apartment, and he still hadn’t unpacked his boxes. The walls still held Grace’s ballet prints and photos of Notting Hill Gate.
She turned off on her side and curled up. The sheets were satin soft against her skin and she closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come. It wouldn’t take too long; she was a champion sleeper.
As she drifted she head a car pull up in front of the building. She lifted her head up off the pillow and squinted at the windows. Much good that’s doing me. The headlights went out, and she laid her head back against the pillow.
She drifted off again, thinking of John and the work she had to do on Tuesday. In her dreams she saw John coming through the bedroom door, kissing her hand and getting into bed beside her, pulling her to him.
Her formless dreams were interrupted. Her leg ran into something on the bed. Irritably she thought it was the extra quilt she kept folded up on the bed, in case she got cold. She kicked it slightly, but it wasn’t the quilt. It was more solid.
“Whatever you are, go away,” she murmured.
She felt a hand grab hers, and lips brushed over it. “I don’t think you want me to do that.”
She opened her eyes, still in dreams. “John?”
She focused through the dark and saw her tall, dark-haired husband sitting on the bed, holding her hand. “Hi.”
“You’re home early,” she murmured. “I’m glad.”
“Good, because I wasn’t too sure a minute ago.”
She struggled to sit up. “What time is it?”
“A bit after one.”
“In the morning.”
“Yeah. I just caught a late flight out of Olympia. Dinner with mom and dad, then back here.”
“Must’ve been a late dinner.”
John pulled her into himself. “I wanted to get home.” He kissed the top of her head. “How are you?”
“Fine. Very glad you’re home.”
He laid her back down against the pillows. “Let me undress. I’ll join you.”
“M’kay.”
She watched him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt—one of her favorite things to do was watch her husband undress. There was something inherently sexy about it. He didn’t fold his clothes—neither of them was very neat, when it came to their clothes—just dropped them where they lay, tossing his shirt and tie over the desk chair.
He pulled back the covers and pulled her to him. “This is so much better than Seoul.”
She giggled. “I hope so. I’m not moving to Seoul.”
“Well of course not. Wouldn’t trust their health care system with you.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him.
Grace sighed. “Glad you’re home.” He ran his hand through her hair.
“Get some sleep now. No other strangers will be wakin’ you up,” he said softly. Grace obliged and closed her eyes, feeling her husband’s chest rising and falling underneath her head.
*
“Where’s your ring?” John stared at her bare hand as she poured the coffee into the Fiesta mugs.
“I always take it off when I’m cleaning. I was cleaning yesterday. Didn’t you notice?”
“I did.” He took her hand and kissed the pale spot where her ring usually was. “Are you all right? Your hands are sort of puffy.”
“Are you implying that I’m fat?” She teased him as she put the coffee pot on the trivet.
“No.
“Do you want to call the doctor?”
“I’m going to see him next week.”
“Well then. OK.”
“Not that doctor.”
“Which one?”
“My OB.”
“Oh. It’s that time again?”
“No.”
“Well then why are you going?”
“I need him to check on something.”
“And what would that something be?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
“You are?” John put his coffee cup on the table.
Grace nodded. “I think so.”
John pulled her to him, and placed his hand on her belly. “Really?”
“Well you can’t feel anything yet.”
“That’s….are you happy?”
Grace nodded. “Of course I am.”
“Good. I am too.”
“I would hope so.”
John fiddled with his fork. “How am I supposed to eat breakfast now?”
She laughed. “Like you always do. Nothing has changed yet.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily. “What we’ve always wanted. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”
“We got lucky,” she said and winked.
*
On Thursday at 9:45, Grace and John Connor sat in the waiting room of Dr. Wallace’s office. John was ill at ease, being as he was a man in a gynecologist’s office, but Grace was glowing. She finger the page of Parents magazine like it was holy writ.
“Grace Connor?” At the nurse’s call, (fifteen minutes later than it should have been, John noted as he looked at his watch) the couple rose, John’s hand on the small of Grace’s back.
“155 pounds to start.” The nurse made a notation on her chart. “Room 15 please.” The Connors followed her down the twisted, carpeted corridor to a small examining room. “Change into a gown, and Dr. Wallave will be right in.”
The door closed. Grace took up the mint green gown from the examining table and went behind the curtain. “Don’t look,” She admonished her husband.
“Wouldn’t dream,” John murmured. He looked at his Palm and checked a few emails. What does Eric want? John thought as he scrolled down the page. Eric was his officemate at the law firm; they had graduated from Yale Law together.
He clicked on the envelope icon and began to read.
“Anything interesting?”
“No. Just a new case. Eric wants to know the U.S. statutes we could site.”
“Can’t Eric do his own research?”
“No. He’s hopeless at it.”
“Good.”
He dashed off a few lines of relevant text to Eric, then placed the gadget in his pocket. “You look lovely in that shade of green.”
She laughed. “Ha. I think not.”
“Very becoming.”
“Doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” she said.
“I don’t mind that.”
She snorted. “Ha.”
A knock on the door ended their banter. “Good morning, Mrs. Connor.” Dr. Wallace entered, a red-haired nurse following him and carrying a thin chart. “And Mr. Connor. What brings both of you here today?”
Grace reddened. “I…I think I’m pregnant.”
“Well we can confirm that fairly quickly. Rose, the ultrasound machine?” Rose nodded and went into the hall. “Just lie back.” Grace adjusted herself and Rose turned on the small machine.
“Here you are.” She handed the probe to Dr. Wallace.
“Mr. Connor, you may want to see this.” John stood and held his wife’s hand. Dr. Wallace lubricated Grace’s stomach and ran the probe over it. On the screen, a small 3-D image appeared.
“There is it,” Dr. Wallace said. “You are pregnant, Mrs. Connor. Congratulations.”
Grace let out a small squeal. “Oh, Dr. Wallace, thank you!”
“What is it?” John asked.
The doctor’s probe went more slowly over the baby’s small form. “Well, he or she is lying on his or her side. So I can’t really tell…perhaps at the next visit. I’m not going to poke him into moving.”
“well, whatever it is, she looks perfect.” Grace stared at the screen. “Wonderful.”
“Rose will schedule you t come back for genetic testing in a few weeks.”
“What?”
“What do you mean?” Grace asked.
“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you, Mr. Connors?” John nodded. “Then I’m sure you know all about it. You can explain it to your wife on the way home.” He made a notation in the chart and Rose sponged off Grace’s belly.
“I’ll call you with the date of the testing,” Rose said. She and Dr. Wallace exited the room.
“John, what are they talking about?” Grace’s face was taut.
“I don’t know. Medical law isn’t my specialty. It’s…well, it’s Eric’s, actually.” He helped her off the table. “Get dressed, and I’ll call him when I get home.”
As Grace was changing, John sent a message to Eric. Video conference me when you get home, Eric replied. I’ll talk you through it.
Grace emerged, buttoning her shirt. “Let’s go.”
At the check-out desk, the nurse handed Grace a large book and several pamphlets. Grace thumbed through them as John drove down the outerbelt. “
“I’m going to video conference with Eric when we get home.”
Grace nodded. “A nap. That’s what I’m going to do. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“My fault?”
“Yes. I was too busy enjoying you being next to me.”
John smiled and merged onto the interstate. “Good.”
*
At home, Grace lay down in the bedroom while John opened up his video chat program. He dialed Eric’s number and waited for him.
“John! You look good—Korea evidentally agrees with you. Ready to report on the proceedings tomorrow?”
“Already did. Emailed the memo to Ken last night on the way back.”
“You are industrious.”
“I try.”
“So how can I help you?”
“Question on medical law.”
“What’s up?”
“Grace is pregnant.”
“That was fast.”
“Thanks for the congratulations.”
“Sorry, but it was. No birth control?”
“We’re Catholic.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does, to some of us.”
“Not to most of you.”
“That’s beside the point, Eric. Look, she’s pregnant.”
“OK. What’s the question?”
“Today the doctor said something about genetic testing? IT being required by law?”
Eric typed something into his computer. “Here is it. SB 1067. The National Assembly passed it…fifteen days ago…president signed it on the twentieth. SO you were in Korea when it happened.”
“OK. Hasn’t it been publicized?”
“Enormously. It passed almost unanimously.”
“Really? Impressive.” John logged onto his work terminal. “SB 1067..OK I’ve got it.”
“Click on the legislative summary.”
“OK. So what does this mean?”
“Basically, all embryos are to be tested for genetic diseases.”
“I thought most states did that anyway.”
“They do. This takes it further.”
“How much further?”
“Read on.”
John continued reading. “Wait a minute. This couldn’t have passed.”
“Just did.”
“This is wrong.”
“Doesn’t matter what you think.”
“So all babies are to have these tests, and then…”
“Yes.”
“But they can’t do that.”
“Yes, actually, they can.”
“Grace won’t allow it. Iwon’t allow it.”
“What do you have to worry about? Some genetic disease lurking in your bloodstream?”
“Not mine. Grace’s.”
“How do you know?”
“She has one.”
“What? I didn’t know that. She looks perfectly fine.”
“She’s not. She has cystic fibrosis. That’s why..”
“Why what?”
“Why she had the transplant.”
“What?”
“She had a double lung transplant six years ago. She’s fine now. We hadn’t graduated from law school.”
Eric frowned. “And you married her anyway?”
“Eric!”
“Well not the smartest thing to do, with this law being passed…what if the baby had her problem?”
“We will not let them kill it,” John said vehemently.
“You don’t have a choice, John. Neither does she.”
John sighed. “Thanks, Eric, for your help here. I mean it.”
“Well that’s not all.”
“What do you mean, not all? What else can there be?”
“Grace will be sterilized. And, if you’re a carrier of anything, you will be too.”
John gaped at Eric. “You can’t….no.”
Eric nodded. There was a knock at his door and Eric turned to it. “Hey, look buddy,I gotta go. We talk more tomorrow if you want.”
“OK. Thanks.” John logged off, but printed a copy of the law. He read it slowly, then took the pages with him, and went to St. Jude’s.
