126A/N for 2019-06-28: This little story was mostly written over the space of a weekend, inspired by a number of news stories around fresh protests at abortion clinics in states where there are strong protections for such clinics, and the services they provide. I thought the story would work well for the Commander in Chief Contest, and was happy to see it won a few mentions. Many, many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for beta-ing this story. She is a delight to work with.
The story is not yet complete and will not be for some time. It but currently ends in a good spot.
Happy reading,
~ Erin
Definitely the right place, Bella thought, looking at the crowd of people in the distance. Some wore bright yellow vests with the word 'escort' stamped on them. Most were attired in street clothes. A few nuts were even in suits. That was new. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she supposed she'd need to find a parking spot further away. Too many people would be able to see her car. Not that anything is going to happen here. It's legal and generally accepted here in Washington state. That's why you moved here.
Cursorily reassured, she still walked the long way around the building, approaching the entrance from the side kitty-corner to the parking lot.
"Baby killers!" some of the people were chanting.
Even though she'd expected the verbal harassment, it still rattled her. Hoping to enter the building unnoticed, she walked towards it at a steady pace.
The shrill cries intensified and when she looked to the side, she had to duck whatever it was that was being thrown at her.
"Stop it!" another voice yelled, and one of the suited men she'd seen came to her side. "No one's going to hurt you," he assured her.
She knew better than to engage and kept walking, head down.
The man walked alongside her, his coppery hair glinting in the sun. The pin on his lapel also caught the light. Its text read, "Person: inside and out". The image underneath showed a pregnant woman and a woman holding a baby.
She was about to tell him to back off, one hand fumbling for the pepper spray in her coat pocket.
But he simply held the door open for her, standing back to let her in.
Blinking and trying to understand his bizarre behaviour, she asked, "Why are you holding the door for me?" She wondered if he would try to tackle her if she attempted to move past him.
"You'll go in anyway. At least a kindness might remind you of your oath." He looked down at her bag, where a small caduceus was stitched into the cover.
Bella snorted and rolled her eyes. She knew his type. Just another zealot with all the moral high ground. He probably knew the first line of the Hippocratic oath, and would conveniently dismiss the rest of it. "Do you even know the oath?" she asked.
Still holding the door, his reply was immediate. "Of course I do. Every doctor does." Seeing she was inside, he let go of the door and walked away, picking up his sign again.
Well, colour me surprised, she thought, shaking her head. Idiot, she added, for good measure, watching his lanky form. God, do all the weirdos have to be good looking? Shaking off the oddness of the experience, she turned to approach the security door, ID in hand.
- 0 -
"It was fine, Dad," Bella said, pressing buttons on the microwave. Tapping 'start,' she watched the small cardboard box rotate.
"You wore your vest, right?"
She contemplated lying. "No, Dad. I didn't."
"Bella, honey. I know it's less contentious here, but—"
"Dad, I moved here because I wanted a change. I appreciate you getting it for me, but maybe you should give it to someone who'll wear it?"
"I don't want anyone else to wear it, honey. I want you to. My God, Bella, you know the crazy shit people will do. It isn't like guns aren't legal here—"
"Dad, I get that you're worried, but no."
His sigh was almost a growl. "Just be careful, please. I don't want—"
"Neither of us do. I will. I promise."
"Good," he said, voice relaxing a little. "How're things otherwise? Your place any more set up?"
"Yeah, it's great," she lied, looking around at the many unpacked boxes. She'd sifted through a few of them, but work at the hospital had been busy, and once she found her several boxes of books, the motivation to unpack more of her things had disappeared. Her favorite novels and a few wine glasses had been enough to stall settling into her nondescript apartment.
But she'd always been a pragmatist. Her last place had featured one print on the wall, and that was because her mother had hung it for her on one of her few visits.
"You made any friends yet?"
She laughed. "No, too busy with work and the clinic, but the people there seem nice enough." The hospital staff were good and the people at the clinic kind.
"There's more to life than work, Bells."
"Yes, there is. I'll find one of the library book clubs or something."
"Sounds good. 'K, I'm off to see Billy. Talk to you later."
"Say hi for me."
"Will do."
She sat down at her small rectangular table with her small rectangular meal, and to add to the symmetry, pulled out her equally rectangular phone, looking up the local library. Of all the luck. There was a classics book club, and it met tomorrow night. Making note of the place and time, she resolved to go. There was nothing better than a good classic, except the company of like minded people with whom she could appreciate it.
- 0 -
The Bellingham library was a musty old building near the downtown core, but its shelves were well stocked, and the meeting room set aside for book clubs had large windows, good ventilation, and an ancient coffee urn that produced a heady and aromatic brew.
Bella was the youngest person there. The club hosted a collection of women, all of whom had hair that fell somewhere along the silvering spectrum.
"You here for the book club, dear?" one of them asked her.
"I am, yes," Bella said, smiling.
"Well lovely, I'm Mary, one of the organizers, and this is Esme." Bella made polite greetings with both of them, explaining she was new to the area. To her relief, none of them asked about her occupation. Most seemed to assume she was a graduate student at the university. She didn't correct the impression.
To her dismay, when the discussion of what book to read next was brought up, all the suggestions predated the twentieth century. And most of them the nineteenth.
"Er, perhaps Orlando, by Virginia Woolf?" she ventured, when it was her turn in the circle, wondering if the novel's Swift-like nature might tether the novel to their period interests.
"What's that, dear?" Esme asked, as if she'd misheard.
"Orlando. It's certainly a classic, written in the early part of the twentieth century. Perhaps you've heard of Virginia Woolf?" God, how could they not have?
"I think most people might find her work rather . . . inaccessible," Esme said softly, smiling almost apologetically at Bella.
Mindful of her role as newcomer, Bella kept her opinions to herself.
The rest of the group decided to reread Jane Eyre.
Bella all but rolled her eyes. Fine. She'd give it a go. Again.
As she went to leave, Esme caught up with her. "You're new to town, Bella?"
"I am, yes. Just moved."
"Well, come and join us for dinner then," Esme said, a kind hand on Bella's arm.
"Er—"
Smoothing over Bella's response, Esme kept going. "Our family has a long tradition of hosting an everyone-welcome meal on Wednesdays." She was scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "No need to bring anything, but you can if you want. Please do come, though."
"That sounds really lovely," Bella said, meaning it. "And ambitious. Everyone welcome?"
Esme laughed. "Yes, well. We have a big family, and it just seemed easier to plan on one night a week when the house was open to everyone—friends, family, you name it, rather than trying to arrange for something special."
"Well thank you for inviting me. I'm not sure when I'll be able to make it—my work schedule's still getting sorted out, but I will come."
"Good." With a final wave, Esme headed off to join the others, who were already tidying up with a well-rehearsed set of movements.
Bella was herself kindly shooed away when she tried to help and told to go home and unpack.
She was smiling all the way back to the car.
It was a bit of happiness, having made the beginning of some friendships, and she made a note to thank Charlie for pushing her to do so.
Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong solely to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
