Harry returned a few minutes later with his girlfriend, Dr. Maggie Tyndall, an OB/GYN in his practice. Sam had met her after the miscarriage when Harry and Maggie had come by the house to check on her.

“Oh jeez,” Sam said. “Are you guys ganging up on me or something?”

Maggie, who was tall and lanky with long dark hair and bright blue eyes, laughed. “No ganging. You’ve ventured out of Harry’s area of expertise, so he called me in to consult. He tells me you’re interested in short-term birth control?”

Nodding, Sam said, “I read about the shot that lasts twelve weeks. That would work for me.”

“When was the first day of your last period?”

“Yesterday.”

“Then it would be effective within twenty-four hours.”

Sam sighed with relief. “Good. That’s good.” Thinking about their upcoming wedding night had filled Sam with anxiety. You could avoid sex a lot of nights, but not that night.

“The shot isn’t the only option, you know.”

“Believe me, I know. After I got pregnant in college, I tried just about everything else. The pill made me eat everything that wasn’t nailed down until I was twenty-five pounds heavier. The patch gave me a rash, the IUD caused a weird—and scary—infection, and I never had the diaphragm with me when I needed it.” She remembered the night six years ago that she first met Nick and looking for a place they could buy condoms at midnight while her diaphragm was stashed across town in her bedside table. “Funny, isn’t it, that I went through all that to keep from getting pregnant, and then look at what happens when I do get pregnant.”

Maggie pulled up a stool. “I’m worried about depression.”

“What about it?” Sam asked, confounded.

“You’ve recently been through a traumatic event. It would be entirely natural, especially having had three prior miscarriages, to be a bit depressed.”

“I’m not depressed.” Sam glanced at Harry, who was watching her intently, and beat back a swell of panic. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if they refused to give her something to prevent pregnancy. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew exactly what she’d do—she’d go somewhere else where no one knew her and tell whatever lies necessary to get what she needed.

“If you’re at all depressed, the shot can make it worse,” Maggie said.

“Well, I’m not, so no worries there. Anything else?”

“It can take longer—sometimes nine to twelve months longer—for women who’ve had the shot to get pregnant after the dose wears off.”

“That’s fine. We’re in no rush.”

“You’ve certainly changed your tune,” Harry said, studying her again with those intense eyes that made Sam feel like she was six years old and in the principal’s office.