Molly Evans – Their Forever Family: Her Family for Keeps / A Father for Poppy / His Little Christmas Miracle (страница 16)

“What, are you descended from a line of circus performers, or bank robbers or something?”

She gave a sad smile. “No. Much worse.”

“You have the plague?” Seriously? What could it be?

Tears sprang into her eyes, and he had to confront the fact there might be something seriously wrong he’d not been aware of. He dropped the attempt at humor. Obviously, now was not the right time for it. “Tell me what it is. Some things are best told straight out. Why don’t you try?”

After a few breaths, she looked at him and held his gaze. “My family has Huntington’s disease.”

Duncan closed his eyes, immediately feeling sadness for her and understanding her grief—her behavior now made perfect sense. Genetically, it was a death sentence. There was no getting around that. At least for some people.

“I’m so sorry, Rebel. Truly.” He leaned closer to her, intending her to see how serious he was. “But you can’t give up your life because of an illness that may or may not strike. Have you been tested?”

“No. I don’t need to, I know I have it.” She looked down, shamed. “I’ve begun to have symptoms.”

“What? How long has this been going on?” That thought sickened him. She was in the prime of her life, and they’d just met.

“It started in the last couple of days. Things like this have never happened to me before, so I’m certain it’s the Huntington’s.” She brushed away a tear that was making its way down her cheek.

“Tell me what your symptoms are. I’m not a genetic expert, but I know a bit about the disease.”

“Over the years, I’ve become one. I’ve got tremors in my hands, shortness of breath, headaches, and I’ve been losing control of my extremities.”

“How so?” He hadn’t seen anything unusual.

“The last few days I’ve been dropping things more than usual. Paperwork mostly, but I dropped the vial in my lap three times when I was preparing it for Rafael.”

“Have you checked your blood sugar? Simple things like dehydration and moving to a higher elevation can make you behave in ways your body isn’t accustomed to.” The panic in him started to settle down. “You haven’t been here long enough to have acclimated. I’m sure it’s something like that.”

“It’s not. It’s can’t be just that. I’m accustomed to traveling.” She picked up her mug again and avoided his gaze. “I appreciate you trying to help, but—”

“But nothing, Rebel!” Anger snapped inside him, and he had to rein it in. He normally didn’t have much of a temper, but when injustice occurred in front of him, his temper roared. “You can’t just sit here and say you’re giving up. Unless you’ve been tested, you can’t know you’re going to develop the full-blown illness.”

“Haven’t you ever just known something in your life? I mean, just known it down in your gut without anyone ever having to tell you?” She looked into her mug as if she were going back into her memories, seeing them now as if they were a movie in front of her eyes.

“Of course, everyone has. But I’ve also been wrong about some of those things too. That’s a sign you’re thinking with your emotions and not logic.” He’d been there and done that, in spades.

“Logic? Research shows a full fifty percent of people develop the disease. The pattern in my family is well over the fifty percent mark. So far, seventy-five percent. There were four children and three have died of it.”

“Rebel, you’re not interpreting the research properly. A full fifty percent of people then don’t develop any symptoms and go on to live beautiful lives.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated at her thinking process and her unfounded belief. “Have you thought that you’ve got those sort of statistics on your side? Those are quite positive in my book.”

“No.” She sighed and clutched her hands in her lap. “It’s just always easier to believe the bad stuff, you know? How can I even consider thinking I might not have it when the proof is in my symptoms?”

“You are a stubborn one, aren’t you?” He sighed, not wanting to run over her beliefs, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until she obtained the proper testing. Her symptoms could be anything from simple fatigue to stress from work.

“Why haven’t you gotten the testing done to know for sure?” That’s what he would have done, immediately.

“I’m…” Her breathing came in short huffs and tears sprang forth in earnest. Duncan patted her shoulder but remained silent. “I’m afraid! God, I’m so afraid to have what I know confirmed.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t take knowing that every tick of the clock is leading me closer to my death.”

Duncan pulled her against his side, offering her some comfort as the fire in the kiva fireplace snapped and crackled, offering its warmth to her as well. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Science may equally disprove what you think you know, too.”

“I don’t know if I want to know. It’s like I can feel it coming on, what more proof do I need?”

“What you may be feeling is the stress of unrelenting anxiety from years of worry.” Squeezing her shoulder, he leaned back into the settee, pulled her closer, tucked her head beneath his chin. “Tell me about it. Tell me the story that’s locking you up inside.”

A few minutes passed before she took a deep breath. “My dad died when I was eleven, and he was forty-five. We had no idea what had happened to him, but a few years later when my oldest brother got sick and showed the same symptoms we had a clue it was the same thing.” She cuddled against him and allowed her body to relax. One hand drifted over his abdomen, almost shyly, as if she hesitated to hold on to him. He placed his hand over hers and held it against him.

“Then what happened?”

“My grandparents finally told us that dad was adopted and they had no idea what his family history was. But when Ben became symptomatic, we started digging. Mom got all of the boys tested as they were the ones showing symptoms. I didn’t have any symptoms yet, so she decided to wait for me.” She paused as a tear ran down her cheek. Duncan caught it with the back of his fingers and wiped it away. “Seemed like every couple of years all we did was plan funerals. All of them were dead by the time they were twenty-five.” She huffed out an irritated breath. “I have three nephews and so far they are doing okay.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “They might be okay, then, right?”

“I’m so very sorry, Rebel. That’s a lot of pain to go through.” He could only give the odds science had already established. The guilt she felt for surviving such tragedy now explained everything. Why she ran from one assignment to the next and why she was so reluctant to make friends.

“I know.” She nodded. “It’s awful. But it was part of the reason I became a nurse. I couldn’t help my family, but I wanted to do something to help someone else’s.”

“No matter the reason you entered healthcare, you’re an excellent nurse.” He paused for a second. “But you are entitled to have a life of your own, no matter what your family history is.”

“How can I even think of having a relationship or a family with such history?” Anger blazed in her eyes at the suggestion, but it was part of the process of letting go.

“By living your life you honor your family, and you don’t let a disease, something you have no control over, live your life for you. That’s how.” Anger surfaced again, and he struggled to choke it down. Wasting a life was unconscionable. His fiancée had wasted her life, died after a stupid argument, and he wasn’t going to let Rebel just as surely destroy herself.

“That’s a very different way of looking at it.” She turned away and reached for her mug on the table in front of her, clearly not comfortable with that way of thinking.

“I’m challenging your thinking, Rebel, not your commitment, or loyalty, to your family.” He pushed her hair back from her shoulder.

“You haven’t mentioned your mother at all. Where is she in all of this?” Mothers were a driving force in the lives of children. His had gone from his life entirely too soon.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in a while.” She shrugged and looked away. “It’s hard for me to be around her. I think, whenever I’m with her, I remind her too much of everything she’s lost.”

“She may be sad over her loss, but I think she would be overjoyed at being with you.”

“She’s married again. She’s moved on.” She made a face. “I don’t think she really needs me.”

“Look at me, please?” Her pain was almost tangible, and he wanted to ease it, but he didn’t think he could right at the moment.

It took a few seconds, but she turned her face toward him. The anger still blazed inside him, but it was tempered by compassion. “The question really is, do you want a relationship and a family? If you don’t, then it’s simple, you carry on the way you are. But if you do, then you have to make a change.”

“I did want a family. I grew up loved, and I wanted that for my own children. But when my brothers died, I knew I couldn’t face such pain ever again or bring it to anyone else.” She sighed. “I’ve already tried to have myself sterilized, but no doctor would do it because of my age.”

“You don’t want children?” That would be a crime.