He zipped his leather case with a quick, sharp pull.
“I am going to drop my gray suit off at the dry cleaners before they close,” he said, checking his watch. “We have the big scan tomorrow, and I do not want to be running errands afterward.”
I watched him walk down the hallway toward the garage, leaving the faint smell of his cologne behind in the warm kitchen.
The examination room at St. Jude Hospital smelled of sterile soap and cold metal. Dr. Evans, our obstetrician, did not smile when she turned on the ultrasound monitor. She was forty-eight, her face lined with the exhaustion of a twelve-hour shift, but her hands were steady as she squeezed the cold blue gel onto my stomach.
“Let’s see how our little cargo is doing,” Dr. Evans said, moving the plastic wand across my skin.
The monitor flickered, showing dark, grainy pools that looked like caves. A rapid, rhythmic thumping filled the quiet room, sounding like a small engine running underwater.
“There is the first heartbeat,” Dr. Evans said, her eyes focused on the screen.
She shifted the wand a fraction of an inch, and a second, matching heartbeat joined the first, overlapping in a chaotic rhythm. Daniel leaned forward from his chair by the wall, his hands resting on the edge of the examination table.
“Two of them,” he said, a small grin forming on his face. “Twins. My dad had twin cousins.”
Dr. Evans did not nod. She adjusted the dials on the machine, her face growing serious as she focused on a small, dark shadow tucked behind the other two. She moved the wand again, and a third distinct heartbeat filled the room, lighter but clear.
“No, Daniel,” Dr. Evans said, her voice dropping as she turned off the monitor. “There are three. You are carrying triplets, Helen.”
