Rain came steadily down out of an ashen sky. Outside the car, the sidewalks were a riot of brightly-colored umbrellas, a sea of people flowing beneath the pattering droplets. The windshield wipers made a whup-whup counterpart to the drumbeat of rain on the roof.
"I still don't see why this is necessary," she said.
He glanced over at her. "Legal stuff. The state requires a blood test before it will issue a marriage license." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Unless you're thinking of changing your mind?"
"No! It's not that. It's just that I don't understand why we had to drive all the way out here. I already have a doctor!"
"I know. But can he work you into the schedule for a full exam before the wedding?"
"I don't need a full exam!" She sat back and folded her arms, petulant. "I only need a blood test! Besides, I hate doctor's offices."
"I'm just trying to be efficient." He shrugged and returned his attention to the road. "Might as well kill two birds with one stone, as long as we have to go in, right?"
She stared out the window. They drove for a while in silence, as he guided the car out of the city. They passed through the suburbs, trees and buildings alike washed in gray.
Finally, he pulled into a nondescript medical park, low buildings in bland industrial style clustered around a large and nearly vacant parking lot. "Aaron is an old and good friend of mine. We go way back together. He normally doesn't take new patients, especially on short notice. I asked him to do me a favor." He smiled. "You'll like him, I promise."
She made a noncommittal sound.
"Oh, don't be that way." He opened the door and fumbled with his umbrella. "Next week we'll be married and on our honeymoon in London. Doesn't that make you happy?"
She said nothing, but he saw her smile. "There, that's better." He climbed out of the car and opened her door for her; she rose under the shelter of his umbrella, stately, elegant, a John Singer Sargent painting come to life. He marveled, not for the first time, at the easy way she exuded an almost aristocratic charm.
He escorted her to the door in one of the buildings scattered through the medical park, and held it open for her. They passed into a nondescript waiting room, blandly appointed in pastels and peach. He shook droplets of water off the umbrella and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be back to pick you up in about an hour."
"Wait! You aren't staying?"
"No. I have some errands to run." Before she could protest, he was gone, back out into the steady drizzle. She watched the watery yellow glow of the headlights as he pulled away from the curb.
"Miss?"
She turned, startled. The voice came from a glass window set in the wall.
"Miss? Are you a returning patient?"
She crossed the room. On the other side of the partition, a matronly older lady, wearing scrubs covered in a pattern of blue and yellow duckies, looked at her expectantly.
"Huh? No. I'm new."
"Ah!" An expression of delight crossed the woman's face. "Yes, of course! You're Mrs. Miller. I've been expecting you!"
"Miss. Miss Miller. Eileen. I'm not married yet."
"Of course. Forgive me, please. Miss Miller. I have..." She looked around her desk, then opened a drawer and pulled out a thin file folder. "Here we go! I have your file right here. Let's see. Umm..." She flipped through its contents. "Ah, good, good. We already have most of your paperwork. Your husb-excuse me, your fiancée took care of this already. We have your medical records. Now, if I could just get you to fill out...oh, where is it? Ah." She slid several sheets of paper through a narrow slot. "If I could just get you to fill out the consent form, here, and the privacy notice, and the patient care information, and...yes, yes, that will do nicely. And I'll need to see your insurance card, dearie, and we'll be all set!"
Eileen accepted the papers automatically. She looked around, feeling inexplicably lost, left here by her fiancee. The waiting room, save for the receptionist, was completely empty. A small group of chairs clustered around a low, heavy table in the center of the waiting area, but there were no magazines, no television. The room seemed almost Spartan in its utility.
She filled out the paperwork mechanically, and passed it back through the slot with her insurance card. The receptionist smiled up at her over silver horn-rimmed glasses and looked them over, then tucked them neatly into the folder. She rose, made a copy of the card, handed it back. "If you'll just have a seat, dearie, the doctor will be with you quite soon. He's with another patient now, and the appointment is running a few minutes late. I'm dreadfully sorry about that; we usually don't keep our patients waiting!"
Eileen perched herself uncomfortably on the edge of one of the seats. She felt out of place, and stranded, abandoned in the unfamiliar doctor's office alone. The minutes ticked by; she stared blankly at the wall and fidgeted.
After a time, the door beside the receptionist's window opened. Eileen looked up as a woman stepped through, a strange, raptured expression on her face. Her chestnut-brown hair was slightly disheveled, and she walked unsteadily.
For an instant, their gaze locked, and something undefinable passed between them. The woman smiled. "Are you a patient of Dr. Moreland's?"
"I...a new patient. This is my first visit."
"Really?" The woman's face lit up. "Oh, you'll like Dr. Moreland. I wish I could have my first visit with him all over again..." Her eyes half-closed, dreamy. "I'm Kathy. Maybe I'll see you again." She winked, and left the office before Eileen could respond.
"Now that was weird..." she said to herself. The feeling of discomfort grew, and she briefly considered leaving.
No, wait,
she thought,
I don't have a car...
The door opened again. A man stepped through, wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope draped around his neck, a file folder tucked under his arm. He was blandly handsome, with an open, genial smile that put her instantly at ease. He radiated calm, friendly confidence. "Miss Miller?"
"Eileen."
