I had already decided that I would tell the doctor everything honestly.
No pretending.
No hiding.
No more lies.
But before we could leave, somebody knocked loudly on our front door.
Kelly glanced at the clock.
Then he looked at me with an expression that made my stomach tighten.
“Stay here,” he said.
He walked to the door.
When he opened it, a woman’s voice filled the hallway.
“So it’s true! You told me she might be pregnant, and now you won’t answer my calls?”
It was Nonye.
And she had not come alone.
Nonye stood at our door wearing a fitted dress that showed her pregnancy. Her face was flushed with anger, and she was holding a large brown envelope.
Behind her stood an older woman I recognized from Kelly’s family photographs.
It was his mother, Mama Grace.
I had met her many times during our marriage, but she had never visited us without calling first.
