Unexpected Arrivals(88)
“Then why did you stop seeing me?”
“It wasn’t by choice, Cora. Joey quit answering my calls and found excuses why visits didn’t work with your family’s schedule. And over time, the divide had gotten so great there was no coming back from it. Right or wrong, I devoted my time to the grandchild I could see—the one whose mother welcomed me into their lives. I became very active in the Huntington Foundation because of the two of them, and the rest is history.”
“Did Chelsea know?” I prayed to God she hadn’t known we were related. That would take this whole situation from redneck to weird.
“No, sweetheart. It wasn’t until she had lost the ability to talk that I told her the truth. Her mother had never wanted her to know, and I’d made a promise not to tell her. Although, when I faced Chelsea’s passing away, it didn’t seem right for her not to have her truth.”
“How’d she take it?” I couldn’t imagine finding out who my father was that late in life, much less after he’d passed away. Or knowing I was related to the wife of the father of my child—Jesus, it made my head spin. I had a hard time accepting it, I couldn’t fathom hearing it on my death bed.
“I’m not sure she even understood, Cora. There’s a lot doctors don’t know about Huntingtons. Some believe the cognitive function is still good and the brain works normally, and the body has malfunctioned. While others believe that the brain suffers from something like dementia. Add in that she was young and how quickly the disease progressed, and there’s no telling.”
“So they’re the reason you have devoted all your time to fundraising?”
“Them and hundreds of others I’ve met along the way. There’s no cure, and I’ve lost two people I love to the disease. If I can be part of helping to find a cure, then I will have done something with my life that I’m proud of.”
I stared at the grain in the wood of the coffee table without a clue as to how to process the years of deception my grandmother had unloaded on me. While I was desperate to cling to the anger I’d come in the room holding, all I felt was sadness and remorse. And I wondered how different our worlds would have been had my father let us all be a part of the other’s lives. As much as I wanted to call Gwendolyn a liar, poke holes in her story, and refuse to believe my father had ever been anything different than the man I adored, something told me every bit of it was true.
“Cora…” My name hung in the air, and her tone wasn’t warm.
I shifted my eyes to her and saw something that resembled fear.
“You and James need to have Legend tested.”
***
I wandered aimlessly across the island. Although, the years of blame and weeks of turmoil with Gwendolyn at the forefront subsided. Eventually, I had to end up back at the Carpenters’, nevertheless my mind was a disaster. The farther I walked, the more muddled I became. I’d cried more in the last two hours than I could remember in the last two years. Tears didn’t bring clarity, only a headache.
I couldn’t imagine how I’d tell James that Legend had a fifty percent chance of having Huntingtons, much less suggest having him tested. Moreover, I couldn’t figure out why we would want a death sentence for a child we’d just met. If there wasn’t a cure, then why live with that looming overhead. It made no sense to me, but it wasn’t my choice to make. Legend wasn’t my son—not biologically anyway. James and Gwendolyn would need to be the ones to make that decision. I didn’t envy either in that choice and wished I could fix it with a hug, since that was about all I had to offer.
When the sun started to set, and I had no clearer understanding of anything I’d learned, I finally made my way up the beach and inside.
“Cora, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. I tried calling your cell, but you left it here.” Panic laced James’s voice. And once he pulled me into the light and saw my puffy eyes, red from crying, he grabbed my cheeks. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
I was lost about where to start or how to unravel the tale I’d been told. There were too many moving pieces and parts I wasn’t familiar with to paint an accurate picture. While rationally, I should have been more careful with my word choice, what flew out at the moment was less than eloquent.
“Gwendolyn thinks you need to have Legend tested.”
His face contorted with confusion. “Tested? For what? He seems healthy as a horse.”
“Huntingtons. It’s hereditary.” And just like that, the cat was out of the bag, and the weight began to lift from my shoulders. It wasn’t fair to James, yet anytime I needed to unload, he’d always helped me carry my burden—this was no different.
“W-what?”
I nodded.
“Like what are the chances he has it?”
“Fifty-fifty.” And I broke down in tears again. I’d done nothing other than cry since I’d left my grandmother’s house.
“There’s no way it’s that high,” he said in disbelief.
“My grandmother is as close to an expert on the disease as one can get without being a doctor. And that’s what she told me.” I’d learned far more than I’d ever cared to about what had taken Legend’s mother—my sister—so early in life. It was easy to see how she’d become completely engrossed in the charity. Just the idea that Legend might be afflicted made me want to join her plight.