Could I Have This Dance? (43 page)

“I’m not so sure.” Claire attempted a smile. “But I hope you’re right.”

“So you’ve got a fiancé you’re not so sure understands, and you don’t really have any support from your sibs. What about your mother?”

“She’s okay, but she’s pretty overwhelmed just taking care of my father.”

Dot pursed her lips and patted her hand gently against the desk. She appeared to be thinking, sizing up the situation. “You mentioned that your fiancé wanted you to trust God. Are you a Christian, Claire?”

Claire nodded. “Yes,” she replied quietly. “I try.”

“You don’t have to tell me about that,” she said. “I’m just trying to figure out if you have some intact support systems. You’ve got a lot to think about. It’s important to have someone to talk to.”

Claire stared at the carpet. “I haven’t gone to church in Lafayette since I moved. I’ve been so busy.”

“I’ve seen how you residents work. You don’t have to explain.”

“You are a Christian?” Claire asked.

“For a long, long time.” She leaned back. “I made a commitment to serve Jesus after my youngest son died in a car accident.”

Claire lifted her eyes to study Dot’s face. Was she serious? Certainly she wouldn’t joke about something so tragic.

“Does that strike you as odd?”

“Well,” Claire stuttered, “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. And it does seem a little strange to become a Christian after something that must have been so horrible.”

Dot smiled. “I suppose so. It was a horrible time for me.”

“Most people would doubt God’s love if they lost a child.”

“I did. At least for a while. But it was watching my husband, who was a Christian at the time, and seeing how he dealt with the agony we found ourselves in, that eventually opened my heart to God’s love.”

Claire felt a stab of guilt and looked away.

Dot continued. “How has finding out about HD affected your faith?”

Claire took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she said.

Dot stayed silent. It was a silence that screamed, “You’re holding back.”

Claire shifted in her seat.
What am I? Transparent? I can play this game, too.
She raised her eyes and met Dot’s gaze, determined not to be the one who looked away. After a moment, Claire lost. She
had
to look away before she burst into tears. She looked at her watch and checked her beeper.
Why doesn’t this thing go off when I want it to?

Dot finally spoke. “This has to be a major disruption for you. If you’re anything like other surgeons I’ve met, I bet you’ve been focusing a whole lot of attention on your career.”

She nodded. “It’s all I’ve thought about for a long, long time.”

“Are you a control freak?”

Claire wrinkled her brow.

“You know, most surgeons are off the scale when you measure their need to control their environment. They want things to be done according to plan. Their plan, mostly.”

“That’s a stereotype.”

Dot shrugged. “It’s an observation.”

“I like to have things planned out. I’ve known what direction I was headed for a long time. I’ve worked extremely hard to make my dreams happen.”

“I admire you.”

Claire coughed. It wasn’t the comment she was expecting.

“I’m serious. You obviously haven’t let much stand in your way. You don’t get invited to Lafayette unless you’ve excelled. Coming from a small town like Stoney Creek, I doubt you had many female role models. You’ve paved your own way. You’ve made it to a level that most women don’t even dream of. Look at you,” she said, holding up her hand. “You’re on the edge of a career in surgery. How many women ever get that chance?”

“But suddenly I feel like it’s all for naught. HD is like a time bomb ticking away inside me, waiting to strike as soon as I reach my prime. I could be jerking like my father before I ever get to realize my life’s dream.”

Dot tapped a pen against the desktop. “Why did you come to see me?”

“I needed to talk to someone. Holding this in is driving me crazy. I need to figure out whether I should get tested or not.”

“Fair enough. But it’s not likely something you’ll figure out in one day.”

Claire nodded her assent. “Really.”

“So what are the issues on the table? If you get tested, you’ll know, and be spared the agony of not knowing. You can plan for the future.” She paused. “On the other hand, if you test positive, there is a chance that you could be discriminated against. I don’t think you should share this with your attendings. It could cost you a position in surgery.”

“That would be illegal.”

“Well, I’m sure no one would admit that you are being ousted because of HD, but it certainly couldn’t help.”

“I’ve thought as much. So far, I’ve kept it a secret.”

“Good. There are some financial concerns. Testing can be expensive, and again, I doubt if it’s something that you want to submit to your insurance. They would not want to insure you if they found out you tested positive for HD.”

“I don’t think the money would be a problem. I suspect I could talk my grandmother into paying for it. The HD came through a man she had a relationship with, so I think she feels responsible, in a way. Helping me might ease her conscience.”

Dot began writing notes. “What are the implications of HD on your selected occupation?”

“Obviously, I couldn’t practice surgery once the HD was symptomatic. That could happen anytime, assuming I’m HD positive.”

“So, is it fair to your patients not to know? Is it possible that you could jerk or twitch during an important surgery, and actually hurt someone?”

Claire looked at the carpet. “Maybe.”

Dot spoke again, more softly. “Listen, I’m not trying to talk you into being tested. I just want to help you explore all the issues.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you can find a neurologist you can confide in. If you decide not to be tested, at least you could get periodic examinations to see if you are showing any signs of HD. I think a surgeon would owe her patients that much, at least.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’re going to have to think of the implications of a positive test on your relationships. Could your fiancé handle you testing positive?”

“I think so. I don’t know.” Claire ran her fingers through her hair. “He wants me to be tested. And I’m sure he won’t like it if I decide not to be tested. And I’m even more sure he won’t like it if I test positive.”

“Could he handle it?”

“Meaning, would he stay with me, take care of me?”

Dot nodded.

“I think so.” She sighed. “But he’s not so comfortable with not knowing. And right now, this whole HD thing seems to be bogging down our relationship. I can’t seem to understand how God could have allowed all of this. Everything in my life was sailing along so smoothly, until I discovered HD.” Claire shook her head slowly. “I’ve started questioning everything. I’ve always felt that I understood what God wanted me to do. I felt as if he wanted me to be a surgeon. He called me.” Claire looked up. “Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

“But now, I find myself wondering if I just manufactured that idea on my own. If God wanted me to be a surgeon, he wouldn’t have put HD in my path, would he? And if he did, it kind of blows my whole concept of him.” Claire shook her head. “I can’t see how a loving God could do this.”

“How does your fiancé feel?”

“He isn’t comfortable with my doubts. It upsets him when I question my faith.”

“I see.”

Claire looked at her watch. She still had a few minutes before she needed to get back to the hospital. “Do you think it’s okay to know the future?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does God hide things from us intentionally, not ever wanting us to know our own future? Is getting a genetic test to see if I have HD treading on ground he never intended for me to cover?”

“Claire, I can’t answer your questions directly. I think the correct answer might be different for different people. There is no biblical absolute to guide us here.” She paused and folded her hands. “I think you’re on the right track.”

“The right track? I’ve never been more unsure of myself.”

“Yes, but you’re asking questions, seeking advice. That’s a good start.”

“Maybe.” Claire stood up. “But the answer scares me more than the question.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Not knowing runs against my scientific, objective approach to life. Surgeons are trained to find the answers, not conceal them.”

“True.”

“But I’m not sure I could handle knowing I’d get HD if I tested positive. At least this way I have hope.”

Dot shrugged. “Hope is good.”

Claire frowned. She could see that Dot wasn’t about to give her an easy answer. “I need to go.” As she turned to leave, the social worker touched her arm.

“You might find it helpful to just mentally give yourself permission not to know. At least for now, when you’re not so sure if you want to know or not, tell yourself that it’s okay not to know everything, even though everything in your scientific worldview is demanding knowledge. Use it as a springboard to walking in faith. It doesn’t have to be something that destroys you. If you knew everything, where would trust come in?”

Claire nodded slowly.

“So give yourself permission not to know. And if you change your mind later, it’s okay too.”

Claire looked away silently. The scientist, the physician in her screamed to know. Getting comfortable with not knowing would take iron determination. But she desperately needed to come to a place of peace, a place of rest, and right now, she didn’t feel capable of dealing with the results of an HD gene test. So the only alternative was to come to peace with not knowing. “Thanks, Dot. I’ll think about what you said. I—I know I need to trust.”

“Come back if you need someone to talk to.” She lowered her voice as she stepped with Claire into the hall. “Do not let this information out in an uncontrolled manner, Claire. You have a right to keep this to a trusted few. You’ll know when it’s right to share.”

“Okay.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run.” She turned and accelerated to a brisk walk, her foot catching on the floor as she crossed from the padded carpet to a linoleum hall. She stumbled forward and regained her balance. She looked back and shook her head. Thankful that no one saw her klutzy move, she resumed her walk at the harried pace normal for a Lafayette surgery tern.

As she walked, she remembered the ribbing her brother, Clay, used to dish out whenever she showed a rare sign of clumsiness: “Smooth move, Grace.” She smiled at the memory until a new thought assaulted her:
It could be Huntington’s disease.

Chapter Thirty-One

T
ony Broderick sat in a corner booth facing the front door of the smoky little bar. His eyes were on the door, but he wasn’t seeing the peeling paint or the windows, which were in desperate need of cleaning. Tallyho’s wasn’t known for its decor, which started as a nautical theme a decade ago, and had degenerated to something that reminded Tony of an old version of a fifties soda fountain that had survived a time warp. An oar still hung above the door as a vestige of the first owner’s attempt to link it with the nearby sea. Overhead, old vinyl LPs from popular fifties groups dotted the ceiling. Tallyho’s served beer, and plenty of it, mostly to sweaty dock workers, and the others from the Lafayette shipyard a block away.

Tony gulped his drink and looked at his watch. He hated waiting. Especially waiting for lawyers. In fact, he hated lawyers in general. He hated the way they dressed, the money they made, and the way they talked in big words which he didn’t understand. Mostly, he hated Jeremy Pinkerton, the fast-talking attorney that his father had insisted upon. His father knew Mr. Pinkerton from multiple previous scrapes with the law. Tony’s father loved Mr. Pinkerton. That, in itself, was reason enough for Tony to despise the man.

But Tony had never been in more trouble in his thirty-five years. He had been enthusiastic about Jack Daniel’s whiskey for a decade, and even more so since his wife left two years ago, taking his two sons, Jimmy and Garret, with her.

Murder. It seemed implausible that he could be facing such an accusation. He wouldn’t hurt a bug, if he had a choice. When his uncle took him hunting as a boy, he couldn’t stand the thought of killing anything. All he remembered was sitting in the cold woods praying that a deer wouldn’t come his way and show him to be the softy his uncle would claim him to be.

But alcohol had changed all that. He’d had one other DUI before. He couldn’t imagine a jury would feel too sorry for him now.

He closed his eyes and tried to erase the memory of her shrill cry: a little girl, afraid, and in pain, screaming about her purple bicycle.

He’d only had four drinks. Four measly drinks. His liver could handle far more than that without affecting his brain. At least that’s what he thought before the fateful July evening that threatened to change his life forever.

A little girl was dead. And the prosecuting attorney was eyeing a judgeship and was certain to push for a harsh punishment. The charge leveled against him was a second DUI and vehicular homicide. He was staring down some serious jail time. He’d never see his sons play Little League again. So now, he had little hope but to rely on the slimy lawyers to try to get him off.

At ten after seven, after Tony had devoured three beers, Pinkerton arrived. He was wearing a dark suit and tie combination which emulated Regis Philbin. Immediately, he scowled at Tony. “I told you not to drink in public. We need you to be clean as a whistle by trial.”

Tony lifted his eyes and didn’t smile. “You invited me to meet you at Tallyho’s. What am I supposed to do while I’m waiting?”

Pinkerton lit a cigarette and sat across from the shipyard worker. He touched his graying temples and blew smoke at Tony’s face. “I have good news.”

Tony didn’t respond. After a few moments’ delay, he looked up. “Well?”

The lawyer lowered his voice and leaned forward. “I may have just the information that will give the jury reasonable doubt about convicting you of murder.”