Hated the needles and the fear I could feel creeping across my skin, the memories of the pain I’d suffered through.
Loved them the same.
Because if it weren’t for exam rooms like this, I wouldn’t be here today.
Could feel the squeals of laughter Everett was exuding, could feel the warmth in the murmur of words that Dad spoke to him.
Moments like these were when I really wished I could hear.
Wished that I could hear Dad tell me he was completely fine.
Tell me he didn’t inherit the scourge from the family I didn’t want to be a part of.
The illness that came from my biological father’s side of the family.
My aunt had died from it.
Chances were that someday I would, too.
I almost scoffed at the memory of when the attorney had shown up at my apartment here in Gingham Lakes about a year before I’d left, the knock at the door that had let me know I’d inherited five million dollars.
My estranged grandfather had passed.
Wasn’t like he wanted to take care of me after he was gone. Hell, his son, aka the piece-of-shit who had fathered me, had wanted me dead.
My congenital defects nothing but a blemish on their superior blood line.
What bullshit.
Only reason I was still breathing was because my mom and Kale had been willing to fight the fight. To war and contend.
Refusing to stop until they’d brought the corrupt into the light.
Once my father and grandfather had been exposed, the will had been rewritten.
I hadn’t wanted anything from either of them, but there it was, my bank account now boasting so many zeros I doubted I could spend all of it in my entire life.
Had to admit right then, I was thankful I had that cash. Didn’t matter where it’d come from.
Dad sat back, swiveling around in the low wheeled stool he sat on, his hand still on Everett to make sure he was safe.
“From where I’m sitting, his exam is completely normal.”
Relief hit me hard.
YOU’RE SURE? Couldn’t help but go back to my first language, signing like instinct.
Dad wrapped the stethoscope around his neck. “Going to talk to you man to man, Evan. As a doctor to a parent. All of this is preliminary. Basic. But right now? This second? The only thing I can see is that he is a healthy sixteen-month-old boy. Fiftieth percentile for height and ninetieth for weight. You might need to put him on a diet.”
The last was a tease.
Felt like deliverance that sloshed through my bloodstream.
I sank down onto the chair.
“Thank God,” fell from my tongue in a slur as the weight I’d been carrying since the second I’d had Everett in my arms lessened a fraction.
Dad touched my knee to get my attention. “Hey, Evan. Need you to hear this.”
I held up a finger for him to give me a second, and I stood up and moved for Everett where he was swinging that toy all around.
What I needed right then was to wrap him up and hold him close.
I pressed my lips to the back of Everett’s head where he sat facing out on my lap.
“He’s beautiful, Evan.” For a beat, the white coat was gone, my father in its place. His eyes warm and brimming with the faith he’d raised me with. “Beautiful. I can’t believe I have a grandson.”
Dad lifted his hands to sign, like he needed to be direct, ensure that I was understanding what he was saying. IF HE CAME IN HERE WITHOUT YOUR FAMILY HISTORY?
I nodded understanding, my heart going spastic at the reference.
The curse.
I WOULD HAVE NO CONCERNS. I’D BE CONFIDENT HE WAS ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT HEALTHY, he continued, hands moving distinctly, emotion packed in the emphasis. I’D CLEAR HIM AND SEND HIM HOME AND SAY TO FOLLOW UP FOR HIS EIGHTEEN-MONTH WELL-CHECK.
More relief.
Dad leaned forward a little more, the rhythm of his hands growing more forceful.
RIGHT NOW, I’M NINETY-NINE PERCENT SURE THAT IS THE CASE. BUT BEFORE WE CAN COME TO THAT CONCLUSION, HE HAS TO HAVE A COMPLETE GENETIC WORKUP. IT’S THE ONLY WAY WE CAN BE CERTAIN HE DOESN’T HAVE THE SAME DEFORMITIES THAT YOU WERE BORN WITH.
Dad’s throat tremored, and I could see his own ghosts and demons simmering deep in the well of his eyes.
BECAUSE OF YOUR MEDICAL HISTORY, I’D ALSO LIKE HIM TO SEE THE PEDIATRIC CARDIOLOGIST.
It was instinct.
The way I hugged Everett fiercely.
Like if I held him close enough, I would never have to let him go.