Page 62 of Bad Bishop
A pulse. My baby has a pulse.
The revelation was unsurprising and earth-shattering all at once. My secret, my burden, my shame. My eyes zeroed in on the small white dot.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Its little heart beat like a rabbit caught between canine teeth. Cornered and forced into existence.
It wasn’t the baby’s fault that its father raped me. It didn’t ask to be conceived. It was blameless, just like me.
“It appears that your wife is thirteen weeks along, not six.”
He shrugged.
“Mr. Callaghan?” The doctor arched a brow, demanding his words. She looked rather disgusted with the entire ordeal.
“What can I say? My sperm is an overachiever.”
Something dark passed between the two of them. It made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She was the first to break their stare-off, clearing her throat.
“Good news is you’ll have a Christmas baby. I’m setting the due date for December twenty-fifth.”
“February thirteenth,” Tiernan corrected.
She licked her lips, eyes darting around the room, searching for help that wouldn’t come. “Mr. Callaghan, I cannot—”
“If the baby arrives prematurely—say, late December—we’ll call it a happy surprise.” He used the tip of his shiny wingtip to roll her chair from the monitor and let go of my hand. Leaning over, he seized control of the keyboard and fixed the due date on her computer. His demeanor changed completely.
Thiswas why he set up the OB-GYN appointment. To fix the timeline of our tragedy. Now it all made sense.
“W-would you like to take a prenatal blood test to find out the gender?” Though I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was stammering by the way her lips quivered.
“Unnecessary.” Tiernan glanced at his watch before I was able to nod.
“Perhaps your wife doesn’t feel the same way.”
“In that case, she’s welcome to voice her preference.”
“Can she?” The doctor cast her terrorized gaze upon me.
“Oh, she can.” He sat back. Gone was the man who cooed and fussed me into loosening my muscles. Who held my hand and brushed my knuckles so gently I could cry. “She chooses not to. Right, Lila?”
How dare he dictate whether I found out the gender or not? He was strong-arming me into communicating with him by taking away my agency. Already, freedom was a precious extravagance I could only dream of.
The doctor rolled her chair back to her computer, typing on her keyboard. “Do you know where you’d like to give birth?”
“Home,” Tiernan announced, again disregarding my preferences. “She’ll have a home birth.”
Her fingers halted over the keyboard. “I’m not a fan of home births.”
“What a coincidence. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Deep breath now, Mrs. Callaghan.” The doctor flattened her palm over my abdomen and slowly slipped the device from between my legs. She tossed away the condom and latex gloves and stood up to wash her hands.
She spoke directly to Tiernan about appointments and schedules, then left the room.
Keeping my chin locked to keep it from wobbling, I slid off the table and waddled to the corner chair where my folded dress awaited. When I turned back around, Tiernan stood toe-to-toe with me. My blood was boiling with anger.
He plucked the dress from my hands and started helping me put it on, but I shoved him out of my way and tramped over to retrieve my shoes, ignoring the sticky coldness between my thighs.
