A tall man in his late thirties with a thin, gaunt face stood on the top step wearing coveralls.
“I’m here from Home Guard to do the maintenance on the security system,” Alice heard the man say. Dylan peered at his identification badge.
“Damn it, I forgot about this,” Dylan said. “I’m on the way out. Let me get my housekeeper. Come in.”
He flew up the staircase in search of Louise. His efficient, neat housekeeper returned with him a minute later.
“Were both Louise and Marie in the house while we were in the den?” Alice asked once they were on the road to the hospital a few minutes later. She’d been so loud while they were making love, she realized uncomfortably.
Dylan gave her a brief, amused glance, clearly guessing the origin of her concern.
“I sent Marie home early. Louise was there, but she’s working on a special project for me up on the fourth floor. She was far enough out of hearing range. Even for you.”
Alice snorted in embarrassed laughter. It was nice, to laugh a little before the stressful appointment.
“Aren’t you worried about someone seeing us together at the hospital?” she asked Dylan after he’d parked the sedan and they were hastily walking to the main entrance of Morgantown Memorial.
“A little,” he admitted, holding the door open for her. “But not enough not to bring you myself.”
She gave him a grateful glance. He noticed, his mouth tilting into a small smile.
“Once we get to the waiting area, I’ll let you check in. I’ll wander around in the vicinity, but I won’t be far off. That should minimize the chances of being seen.”
The blood test itself was pretty anticlimactic, given the buildup of her anxieties about it. She’d assumed she’d be meeting Lynn and Alan Durand’s personal physician during the blood draw, Dr. Shineburg. The doctor must know something about Alice and Addie Durand, because Dylan had asked him to confirm she was their biological child using Alice’s blood sample and the Durand’s remaining genetic material. Instead of a physician being there, however, she was greeted by a friendly young female phlebotomist. She explained to Alice that Dr. Shineburg had been called for an emergency. As a result, the blood draw itself felt like more of a technical matter than the emotional one she was both anticipating and dreading.
After the procedure was complete, Alice walked down the hallway in the direction of the waiting room clutching a patient informational pamphlet from a laboratory called GenCorp in Chicago, which would perform the genetic comparison analysis and provide her with results. According to what she’d briefly read as the phlebotomist had taken blood, she’d have the results in four to six weeks, but they were going to try to put a rush on it.
Where will I be when I get the results?
The question slammed into her like a fist to the head.
“Miss? Are you all right?”
Alice blinked, rising out of a daze. She realized she was standing still next to a parked wheelchair and a middle-aged nurse was watching her with a part-curious, part-concerned expression on her face.
“I . . . yeah, I’m fine,” Alice said hollowly. “I felt a little dizzy there for a second.”
“Did you just give blood?” the nurse asked kindly.
“Yeah.”
The nurse nodded. “Why don’t you go on back to the phlebotomist station and sit down. They have juice and cookies there.”
“No,” Alice said, smiling stiffly. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
She started down the hallway again. It hadn’t been the blood draw that had made her dizzy. It was the fact that Camp Durand finished in a week’s time, and she had no idea what the hell she was going to do with her life after it was over.
What if I’m not selected as a Durand manager? Should I go back to Maggie’s and start looking for another job? That was the original plan. But I can’t act like Addie Durand never existed, especially once I get the official testing results. What if I am selected as a manager? Wetting my feet as a Durand junior executive would be a good way to find my way in the company. In my life. But what if the position offered to me wasn’t in Morgantown?
What about Dylan?
What if Dylan was wrong, and I’m not actually Alan and Lynn Durand’s child?
Where the hell do I belong?
She continued her walk to the waiting room on rubbery legs, these questions and more crashing and colliding in her head, leaving her in a cloud of blank, numbing anxiety.
The waiting room was nearly empty except for an older man reading a newspaper. She glimpsed Dylan’s singular form in the far hallway. He was standing next to a bulletin board and talking to someone in hushed tones. Should she just sit down, and wait for his acquaintance to leave? she wondered nervously. She and Dylan weren’t supposed to making their connection public.