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wanted to tell her himself—but oh, no, me and my stupid
big mouth!”
“Hey,” Andy soothes. “Rosie, she was going to find
out sometime. It doesn’t really matter how …”
“No,”
shake my head wretchedly. “You weren’t
there, Andy, you didn’t see her face …” close my eyes.
“She’s just so
broken. And it’s all my fault!”
“No.” Andy says firmly. “No, Rosie, none of this is
your fault.”
“Yes, it is!” insist. “I’ve ruined their lives, Andy!
could have walked away—I should have walked away.
This was huge mistake. have to go!” grab my bag and
sling it over my shoulder, standing up.
“Okay.” Andy stands. “Okay, we’ll go—we’ll go on
down to my aunt in Washington, we just need to call cab,
say goodbye, then—”
“No.” shake my head. “I can’t—I can’t go back in
that house.”
“Rosie, you owe Jack that much. You can’t just
disappear without telling him,” he says softly. “He’s your
dad.”
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dig my shoes into the sand, thinking of the fish
market, the café, the warmth of Jack’s arms as he hugged
me close. My dad
“Just
say goodbye, and we’ll go, we’re out of
here—we don’t ever have to come back, okay?” Andy
searches my eyes. “If that’s really what you want.”
take deep breath, my throat swelling as gaze up
at the clapboard house, the restaurant with its wooden
sign creaking in the salty breeze
swallow hard. “It is.”
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Holly
watch the raindrops sliding like tears down the
window as Megan pours me yet another cup of tea.
“So …” stare into the swirling depths of my mug.
“How long do have?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Dad sighs. “It’s not like that—you
might not even have—”
“How long?” look at him.
He glances at Megan, then sighs again. “I did bit of
research last night, and most of the Websites found said
it usually doesn’t even start until middle age. Trudie didn’t
even know she had it when Ro—” He stops himself,
strokes my hand. “When you were born.”
nod, considering. “Then how long till die? Once it
starts?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It varies
think—it
depends …” He frowns. “You should talk to Rosie.”
look at him quickly.
He squeezes my hand. “She knows better than
anyone,” he says gently. “She was her mother’s caregiver.”
stare at him.
caregiver? I’m going to need
caregiver
“But sweetheart, we don’t even know you’ve got it,”
he says swiftly, reading my fear. “There’s
test you can
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take, if you want to, to find out if you definitely have the
gene—”
“If want to? Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, some people don’t, they’d rather not know—
afraid positive result will affect their lives too much—”
“Well, duh—they’re go
laugh,
short
sharp bitter sound.
“No,” Dad says gently. “Their life before the disease.
Their jobs, their careers, their marriages …”
“Why?” frown. “Why would it affect that?”
“Well …” Dad hesitates. “From what
can gather
online, some people are scared their employers might
discriminate against them, or they’re afraid they’ll become
burden on their partners—”
“Josh would stand by me,”
tell him firmly. “He
loves me.”
“I’m sure he would.” Dad smiles, stroking my hand.
“But does he want children?”
“Why?” freeze. “What do you mean?”
“Sweetheart.” He swallows. “Some people
they
decide—they’re afraid to have children …” He looks at me,
his voice careful, his eyes sad. “I mean, it is hereditary …”
My hand goes limp in his, his words forming an icy
fist around my heart.
This could get my baby too …
“Rosie said that Trudie—” He stops himself.
“Sweetie—”
“What?” interrupt. “What did Rosie say?”
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”
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“Tell me,”
command, my voice wobbly. The
authority of the terminally ill.
He shifts uncomfortably. “Rosie said that Trudie, if
she’d known …” He sighs. “She might not have had
children.”
close my eyes.
She wouldn’t have had children
would never have
been born …
“But she was so glad she did,” Dad insists, squeezing
my hand. “That’s an argument against having the test, if you look at it that way. Maybe it’s better to live your life,
regardless of what may or may not happen in the future.
Anyone could fall under bus!”
His words wash over me, my head spi
painful circles.
She wouldn’t have had children— shouldn’t have
children— shouldn’t have this child …
“He’s right, Holly,” Megan says. “Maybe it’s better
not to know.”
“I have to know!” yell, my words louder, harsher
than intended. “I have to—this is my life—my future …”
My baby
My throat stings. “I might have this
disease
and don’t even know what it is—I’ve never even heard of
it!”
“You’re right,” Megan says gently, glancing at Dad.
“We don’t know anything about it, not really. But Rosie
does.”
“I’m not talking to her, that selfish bitch!”
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“I know it’s hard, but she knows what you’re going
through,” Dad soothes. “She can help you.”
“I don’t need her help!”
explode. “I don’t need
anything from her—this is her fault!”
screw my eyes
closed, the pain unbearable. “If she hadn’t—if we hadn’t—
“If you hadn’t been swapped at birth you’d have
watched your mother die from Huntington’s, just like she
did,” Dad says evenly. “You’d have wondered every day if
you were going to inherit it, just like she did. And now
you’d be in exactly the same position you’re in now. But
you’d be all alone,” he says. “Like she was.”
look away, lump in my throat.
“None of this is her fault, Holly. Who can blame her
for wanting to find her real parents? But when she met
you she was willing to walk away and leave us all. She
only stayed because she knows how awful it is to live not
knowing. She’s been there, Holly. She’s been through it all,
and she thought you had the right to know, to decide for
yourself, to choose.”
To choose
Images of the Pla
to me. To choose …
Trudie said she wouldn’t have had children …
“I’m scared,” whisper, tears streaking my cheeks.
“Daddy, I’m so scared.”
“I know.” Dad kisses my head fiercely, his stubble
rough and scratchy as he holds me tight. “I know. Me too.”
His tears slide into my hair, warm and wet. “We’ll get
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through this,” he promises, his voice cracking and
breaking my heart. “We will. You’ll see. Together we can
beat anything.”
cling to him like
child, desperately holding on,
trying to believe him.
“You okay, Holly?”
blink as Ben appears in the doorway, his eyes wide
with concern.
nod quickly, biting my lip, unable to speak. He
pads over and climbs onto my lap, his short arms looping
my neck tightly as Dad hugs us both, holding us together.
pull Ben close, my heart aching as breathe him in, this
precious child—perhaps the only child I’ll ever hold this
way—the nearest I’ll ever get to child of my own
kiss
his hair, pulling him as close as possible, tears flooding my