What the hell was taking so long? She glanced at the wall clock in Dr. Carrow’s exam room Monday afternoon and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ten minutes she’d been waiting. Only ten minutes. She needed to get a grip and settle down. Two more minutes passed. Two minutes in which Casey felt like crawling out of her skin. Okay, so sitting still wasn’t going to do it for her. The paper crinkled as she hopped off the table and held the pink cotton gown together at her back. Coming here was a smart thing. Playing the what-if game over her exhaustion and nausea wasn’t doing her any good. There was a logical explanation for the way she’d been feeling lately. It didn’t mean she was going to end up like her grandmother. A crisp knock sounded at the door, and Casey whipped around at the sound. “Come in,” she said quickly, moving back to the exam table. Dr. Jill Carrow walked into the room dressed in slacks and a navy blouse. Her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail, a stethoscope was looped around her neck and she held a medical chart in her hand.
