Looking for Jane (45)

If pressed, she would never admit to harbouring preferences, but Chester is her favourite. Aside from the delightfully frolicking cadence of his name, Evelyn is particularly fond of him for his paternal nature and unabashed honesty. During their exams, most of Evelyn’s patients will overexaggerate the virtues of their diet and lifestyle while underreporting the prevalence of health-related vices. But not Mr. Braithwaite.

Chester referred several of his friends and neighbours to “that lovely young lady doctor down the street, ya know,” which helped her practice flourish. And when she was able to hire a nurse, she plumbed her trusted networks for someone who would be supportive of her unique clinical offerings. Through a mutual friend who was also part of women’s liberation, Paula connected her with Alice, and they hit it off after their first meeting over coffee.

Alice isn’t much younger than Evelyn, somewhere in her mid-twenties. She’s crusty on the outside with a soft centre, like a well-made croissant, and even though they haven’t known each other long, Evelyn trusts her as much as she trusts Tom. She and Alice have been performing a couple of abortions after-hours each week for the past six months.

Now Alice sits in the chair across from Evelyn, leans forward with her hands clasped tightly between her knees. “I want to run something by you.”

“Shoot.”

Alice hesitates. “Remember when my sister Emily came in?”

“Of course.” A smart girl. A failed condom.

“Well, a friend of hers was asking about it for a friend of hers, because that girl’s aunt had told her she could call around to doctors’ offices and ask for a woman named Jane.”

“Jane?”

“Jane. Just Jane. It’s a code word.”

Evelyn shifts in her seat. “A code word for an abortion?”

“Kind of. A code name for this network that’s connecting women with doctors who will provide abortions. A whisper network, basically. Apparently there’s a big one in Chicago that’s been using that code name and it’s caught on elsewhere. I guess it’s generic enough to slide under the radar.”

Evelyn is quiet for a moment. “Someone I knew a long time ago named her baby Jane,” she mutters, running her index finger over a seam in the thigh of her scrubs. “Interesting that they’d use a code.”

“Very,” Alice says. “It’s a clever system.”

Evelyn notices the spark of possibility in her eyes. “I see where you’re going with this, Alice, but—”

“Please just hear me out, Evelyn. Please.”

Evelyn licks her dry lips, nods.

“So, there’s a team of organizers for this network. They just call themselves Jane, or the Janes. It’s basically a formalized version of what we do. Right now women hear about us from their sister’s friend’s cousin, then they call us, right? But it only allows a relatively small circle of women to hear about the fact that we can offer safe abortions. Word isn’t going to get out much further than a few degrees of removal from you and me.”

“We do a couple of them a week, Alice. We’re doing what we can.”

“But not all we can, right?”

Evelyn chews the inside of her cheek. “What we’re doing now is risky enough as it is.”

“I know. But I want to do more. If we can.” Alice lets out a long sigh. “The organizers are having a meeting tonight. I asked Emily to try to connect with one of them through her friend. She gave me the address. It’s at eight o’clock. I’d like to go.”

Evelyn surveys her nurse with a shrewd eye. “And you want me to come, too.”

“Yes. Just come see what it’s all about, and we can talk about it afterward. No commitment.”

Alice smiles, her perfect teeth shining white in her dark face. She’s a serious person and doesn’t smile often, but when she does, it illuminates everything around her. It’s so warm, perfect for calming the nerves of their after-hours patients.

Evelyn stands and paces the worn carpet a few times, stooping to pick up a rogue piece of yellow Lego before turning back to Alice. “I can imagine what it’s about. It’s a bunch of women risking everything by being brazen and too out in the open about what they’re doing. It’s easier the way we do it, Alice. The less people know about what we do here, the better. It keeps us safe, and that means we can continue to offer the service. We can’t offer it if we’re in prison. And neither can these Janes.”

Alice meets Evelyn’s eyes straight on. They’re reflecting the soft light of the lamp on the reception desk.

“But what if we’re too safe here? What if some desperate woman out there right now can’t find us? What if she thinks there’s no one who can help her?”

“We can’t help everyone, Alice. I wish we could, but we can’t.”

“No, we can’t help everyone, but we could be helping more.”

The two women stare at one another for a long moment, each calculating the consequences of pushing too hard.

Evelyn exhales slowly, shrugs. “Let me think about it.”



* * *



Tom has already started on dinner when Evelyn arrives home. She can smell onions and what might be eggplant. They’re both vegetarians, and Tom is one of the best cooks Evelyn has ever encountered. She hangs her purse and jacket up on a hook in the front hall and neatly sets her shoes on the boot tray before wandering down the long hallway to the kitchen, following the sound of classical music and sizzling veggies.