Page 72 of WAYLON (Ruthless MC 1)
“Though, it could still do with a thorough cleaning,” I point out to Lucinda. “You know, for whoever Waylon finds to take Johnny’s place.”
“The club maids aren’t coming through until next Saturday,” she says, her tone apologetic. “But after the exam, I can go get some cleaning supplies and have this place sparkling like Meemaw’s.”
“Okay, I’ll take you up on that. But you have to let me do all the cleaning,” I insist. Not because I’m planning to stay, but because I don’t have anything else to do. Cleaning will occupy me for the rest of the day after I’m done with Lucinda’s exam.
I do an old-school pre-ultrasound prenatal exam. Take some measurements, check her dilation and blood pressure. Ask her a few questions about how often the baby kicks.
The good news is that Lucinda seems relatively healthy. The bad news is that I'm pretty sure Johnny’s eyeball diagnosis was off.
“Judging on how strong the heartbeat is and how much the baby’s kicking, I think it's more like you’re eight months along,” I tell Lucinda as I take off the gloves I was grateful to find in one of the filing cabinets.
Lucinda’s eyes widen, and she rubs both hands over her distended belly. “If you’re right, I could be having this baby any day.”
“Exactly. So you’ll need to take it easy and get as much rest as you can. No more offering to clean out whole trailers,” I tell her with a chastising smile. “Do you have support in place for after the baby comes?”
Lucinda nods. “Meemaw and some of the old ladies promised to come over and help out. They’re all pissed at Crazytown for shutting me out.”
I nod approvingly. I don’t love having an entire trailer town up in my business. But a close-knit community like this will undoubtedly come in handy for a single mom.
“Can you tell me where the closest hospital is? I’d like to speak to a doctor over there just in case we need to take you in.”
Lucinda frets her lip.
“I know lack of insurance might make that too expensive for you,” I tell her. “But there are programs that can help keep down delivery costs. If you give me your phone and let me call over there, I could probably figure out how to arrange a costless prenatal exam for you.”
“No, I have insurance,” Lucinda says. “Waylon got it for all of us when he started this town. We’re all on the payroll and making a living wage, too. It's nothing like before when it was just the compound or where I’m from in Columbia. It’s kind of like….what is that word for dream place? It starts with a U?”
“Utopia?” I guess.
Lucinda snaps at me. “Exactly, it is a utopia, except the only people allowed to come in are the ones Waylon chooses.”
“Then why was he so anti-hospital back in Delaware?” I ask.
Lucinda shrugs. “It is a utopia, but the Reapers are still criminals. I am thinking none of them would be willing to show up at a hospital with a gunshot wound.”
Fair enough. Another thought occurs to me. “Are you saying that I’ll get paid a living wage too if I agree to be the town’s nurse practitioner for a while?”
Lucinda shakes her head and looks honestly confused as she answers, “You’re Waylon's woman. Why do you need to get paid? Your money’s no good in this town. And if you can’t get something here, you can just ask him.”
I grit my teeth. “I'm not his woman.”
Lucinda looks to the side. “Are you sure about that? Waylon’s doing a lot for you, and he wouldn’t be doing so much if you weren’t his woman.”
I shake my head. “What exactly do you think he’s doing for me, other than keeping me here against my will?”
Lucinda opens her mouth, but a knock sounds on the door before she can reply.
“Hey, Dr. Amira!” A voice on the other side calls out. “Charlie said you were open for business now. Is that true?”
“That sounds like my friend Scarlett,” Lucinda says. “She’s pregnant too, and I told her you said me and all the other pregnant women needed to come to you for an exam.”
“That’s not exactly what I said,” I answer, even as I go to open the door.
I’m expecting to see this Scarlett, and sure enough, a woman with a pregnancy bump and dark red hair is standing at the top of the trailer's steps. But there’s also a line of ten other people behind her—both women and men.
Scarlett wasn’t the only one Charlie told I was open for business. From what I can tell, over the next few hours, everybody’s overdue for a checkup. Pretty much the whole trailer town has been waiting for what they keep calling a real doctor to get here—no matter how many times I remind them I’m a nurse practitioner.
