Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(90)

“Witch.”

“And you’re with Max?” Katie, behind her table, wrote out her information in such an easy, practical way, Lana smiled.

“Yes. He’s the father, and my husband. Max Fallon. He’s thirty-one. I can tell you without exaggeration, he can do whatever has to be done. He’s kept all this together, all these people. He’s a writer, but—”

“Max Fallon.” Katie looked up. “It didn’t click. My husband loved his books. I know we have some in our library.”

“You have a library?” Lana asked, and her eyes swam again.

“We have a library, a community garden, a day care, and medical facilities. Does Max also have other abilities?”

“Witch.”

“Would you like Max to be with you for the exam?” Rachel asked her.

“Yes, please.”

“Send him in, Katie. I’m going to take Lana inside, get her comfortable.”

Jonah took Duncan, watched Lana go in with Rachel. “They’re healthy.” He set Duncan on the blanket. “I couldn’t not see. Healthy and strong. The baby … there’s something bright. I don’t know how to describe it. Something … more.” He cut himself off as Max strode up.

“They just went in. I’ll show you.”

Lana changed into an exam gown while Rachel explained that they’d scavenged supplies and equipment from hospitals and clinics en route.

“We still need more, but at the time we didn’t have room to take more. And some of what we have we can’t use until we get power up again. Fingers crossed there. Come on in, Max. First, you estimate four and a half months, so eighteen weeks?”

“She was conceived on January second. That’s certain.”

“Date of your last period?”

“I honestly don’t know, but I know the conception date.”

“All right.” Rachel walked to a calendar on the wall, flipped back, counted. “Eighteen weeks, three days. That puts your due date at … best estimate going forty weeks from conception, at September twenty-fifth.”

“But, nine months would be early September.”

Rachel let the calendar flip back down, smiled. “It’s actually ten months’ gestation. Forty weeks.”

“Then why do they say nine? See,” she said to Max. “I know nothing.”

“You know now.”

Rachel gestured toward the scale. “Do you know your weight pre-pregnancy?”

“A hundred and sixteen. Oh God, I have to get on there, don’t I?” Resigned, Lana stepped on the scale, but closed her eyes.

“Height, five feet, six and a quarter inches. Weight one-twenty-six.”

“Ten pounds?” Lana’s eyes popped open. “Ten?”

“Is excellent for your stage of pregnancy. With your height and build, a twenty-five- to thirty-five-pound weight gain would be very good. But everyone’s different, so don’t stress about it.”

“Did you say thirty-five pounds? I thought Ray was exaggerating.”

“Why don’t you sit up on the table—don’t cross your legs. We’ll get your blood pressure. How are you sleeping?”

“It depends. I have dreams.”

“We haven’t always been able to stop or find the best shelter at night,” Max added.

“Mmm. Blood pressure’s good.” Rachel noted it down. “Morning sickness?”

“I never had any. A little light-headed now and again, and I’m hungry all the damn time.”

“Allergies, medical conditions, medications?”

“No, nothing.”

“Is this your first pregnancy?”

“Yes.”

Rachel asked questions, Lana answered. Max wandered the room.

“Have you felt any movement?”

“I think—I felt … When we saw the sign? The one that says New Hope? She moved. It felt amazing really.”

Max turned back. “You didn’t say.”

“You were on the walkie with Poe. You were worried. We didn’t know if we’d be welcome here, or what to expect. And it wasn’t like the butterflies I felt before. Ray called that quickening. It wasn’t like that. It was excited. Is that normal?”

“At eighteen to twenty weeks it’s good to feel movement. You’ll feel more, but don’t worry if you don’t feel movement every day right now. ‘Don’t worry’ is the mantra.”

Rachel glanced at the ultrasound, sighed. “I need you to scoot down, feet in the stirrups.” She walked over, took gloves from a box. “I need to do an internal. Once we get things running, we’ll do an ultrasound.”

Max pointed. “That?”

“Yes. Once we can use it, you’ll be able to see the baby on the monitor, hear the heartbeat. I can measure weight and length, check a lot of things. I might be able to—if you want—determine sex.”

“It’s a girl. I know that the same way I know the conception date. I know she’s healthy and strong, but—”

“You still worry.”

“An ultrasound would show you things that would help with that worry?” Max asked.

Understanding expectant parents worried about everything even under normal circumstances, Rachel sent Max a reassuring smile.