Dr Tall, Dark...and Dangerous?. Lynne Marshall

      After grabbing the mail from the box on the porch, she used her key to open the front door, immediately disabling the alarm system. Sadly, living alone in the city, it was a necessary expense, and one that gave her peace of mind. Well worth the cost.

      She tossed her mail on the dining table on her way to the kitchen, and the corner of another letter left opened from yesterday caught her eye and brought back a wave of dread. Try as she may to put it out of her head all day, she’d failed. She needed a cool glass of water before she dared read it again. Maybe the words had changed. Maybe she’d misunderstood.

      A quiet mew and furry brush against her ankle made her smile. She bent to pick up Daisy, her calico cat, who’d come out of hiding to greet her.

      “What’s up, Miss Daisy? Did you watch the birds today?” She thought how her cat sat perched on the back bedroom window-sill, twitching her tail for hours on end, most likely imagining leaping into the air to catch a chickadee busy with nest-building. “You want your dinner?”

      After she’d fed the cat and drunk a whole glass of water, she went back to the table and picked up the letter from the Department of Health and Welfare.

       “It is with great sadness we inform you that your birth father, Jeffrey Morgan McAfee, has passed away from Huntington’s disease …”

      She tossed the letter on the table, closing her eyes and taking a seat. She hadn’t misread it. With elbows planted firmly on the worn walnut surface, she dropped her head into her hands and did something she rarely allowed: she felt sorry for herself.

       “We recommend you meet with a genetic counselor and set up a blood test …”

      She’d never known her father, her mother had never spoken of him, and this had been one hell of an introduction. She’d called her mother to verify her father’s name last night, but had only got her message machine. Then later, Mom had called back to break the bad news. He was, in fact, her father. That’s all she’d said, but Kasey intended to get the whole story one day soon.

      “Did he leave you anything in his will?” So like Mom. Always looking for a free ride and never coming close to finding one.

       “Yeah, Mom, one doozy of an inheritance …”

      Kasey wouldn’t wish the progressive, degenerative disease on anyone, yet with her birth father having and dying from it, she had a fifty percent chance of developing Huntington’s. And once the symptoms began, if they began, which was a mind-wrenching thought in itself, there would be a tortured journey of wasting nerve cells, decreased cognition, Parkinson’s-type rigidity and myriad other health issues until it took her life.

      At least Mom had apologized, but how could a person make up for sleeping with the wrong guy, getting pregnant, and never seeing him again? Actions and consequences had never really figured into her mother’s style of living.

      She couldn’t dwell on the disease. There was no point. While removing her head from her hands, her stomach protested, reminding her it had been hours since she’d eaten. She either carried the marker or she didn’t, the ticking clock had already been set or it hadn’t. Thinking how her ignorance had been bliss all these years, she had no control over anything, and now her life must go on just as it had before the letter had arrived.

      She stood, losing her footing and having to grab the table for balance. Could it be an early symptom? Her throat went dry. Hadn’t she been bumping into things more recently? She shook her head, scolding herself. She’d always been clumsy, especially when she rushed, and she rushed all the time at work. There was no need to second-guess every misstep. She needed to eat, that was all.

      And if she wanted peace of mind, all she needed to do was make an appointment and have a blood test and find out, once and for all, if she carried the defective gene. Be done with it or face it head on.

      She’d been drawing blood from patients for years, never thought twice about having her own lab work done. Not since a kid had the thought of a laboratory test sent an icy chill of fear down her spine. Until today. What would she do if she had Huntington’s? She tightened her jaw and stood straighter. If she had the disease, she’d just have to make the most of each day … until the symptoms began, and even then, she promised to live life to the fullest for as long as she was physically able.

      Though her stomach growled a second time, she’d just lost her appetite.