Pregnant? At seventy-two? She shook her head, heart galloping. George had been dead for over a decade. She hadn’t even looked at another man since. She hadn’t touched anyone. The idea was absurd. Obscene. Yet the number sat on that screen like a verdict. High. Abnormal. Elevated.
“No,” she whispered aloud, rising to her elbows. “No, no, no.” Her voice began to rise. Panic overtook her reason. She pressed the call button. Then pounded it. The nurse re-entered, startled. Tula was trembling. “Get the doctor,” she snapped. “Now.” The nurse hesitated. “Now!” she screamed. “I want answers!”