Three weeks without a word, then four phone messages in one day. What did he need to say that was so important?
She checked the wall calendar.
Ten days until the big green X, the day they would leave for Scotland.
He probably just wanted their travel itinerary so someone could meet her and Aunt Grace at the airport.
But hadn’t he said there was something he needed to tell her?
Her pulse quickened as she remembered the depth of his tone.
Oh, no. Something was wrong with Maggie. He wanted to tell Emily before Grace heard about it.
Heart skittering, Emily pulled out her cell, punched the numbers, and got an immediate recording—her plan wasn’t set up for international calls. She chucked it, grabbed the cordless phone, and keyed in his number.
As the line clicked through a string of region codes, she checked the time and added eight hours. Should be about 5:20 a.m. in Scotland. Which meant he’d left the first message just after midnight his time and the last at 4:30 a.m. He had been up all night trying to reach her?
Boooo boop.
She couldn’t breathe. Elbows on the counter, Emily cradled her dizzy head in her hands.
Boooo boop.
“Emily?”
A thrill zapped across her nerves at the sound of his voice. “Yes, it’s me. Is something wrong with Maggie?”
He expelled a long blast of air. Seconds passed before he answered. “Maggie’s fine.” His voice sounded deeper than usual, sending her stomach flipping. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I guess I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”
“What about you? Are you okay?”
“Aye. I mean ... no. I’m, uh ...” A shuddering intake of breath vibrated over the line. “There are things I need to tell you, Emily, but first, there’s something I need to know. Do you remember when we stopped that night? Beside the road? When we—I mean, when I—”
A shrill scream blasted from the teakettle.
Startled, Emily lost her grip on the phone and it clattered to the floor. She grabbed it and dashed to the stove, fumbling to get the stupid phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. “Sorry! Hang on.” She moved the kettle off the burner, chest thudding like a giant marching drum. “Yes, I remember.” Are you kidding me? How could I forget?
“I’d like to know how you felt about that.”
She closed her eyes and found herself at the edge of the road beneath the dark, velvet sky, melting into Ian’s strong, gentle embrace. Drawing a calming breath, she centered her thoughts on the core-rocking truth that had already taken up residence in her heart.
“I mean, when I took you in my arms and nearly kissed you. Because if that was ... unwelcome, then I won’t trouble you with the rest of what’s on my—”
“I felt like I was home.”
A long, breathless silence. “Home?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
A steady pulse played on the line.
“Emily.” His voice plunged dangerously low. “You fill my thoughts. Constantly.”
She tried to breathe, but nothing worked. Her legs were noodles. She reached behind her for something to hold onto as she slid down the doorframe to the floor, phone smashed to her ear. “Really?”
“Aye,” he said softly. “I’m in love with you.”
Numbing waves of joy engulfed her. She tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat.
The line went still, as though Ian was holding his breath.
Emily closed her eyes and pictured his face. “I love you, Ian. I fell in love with you the day we met.” A revelation struck and she added, “No. Long before.”
“Ahh.” Relief poured from his shaky exhale.
The image of him all alone, pacing back and forth in some tiny cottage, phone pressed to his ear, made her ache.
“Eight days, love. I don’t think I can wait that long.”
Her pulse skittered at the depth in his tone. Smiling, she gave a soft chuckle. “Ian, I’m sorry, but it’s ten, actually.”
“Ten days?” He growled. “Emily, there are so many things I have to tell you. And there’s something very important I need to show you. Alone.” He groaned, then another growl rattled the line. “You’re sure it’s ten days?”
Emily barely remembered returning in time to drape Aunt Grace with a blanket before the fireworks started. Barely remembered the next days of gathering things to pack or helping Aunt Grace find mates to her shoes. All she knew was Ian loved her, and the thought of that felt like a drink of pure, cool water after a long, dusty drought. She fumbled through workdays in a cloud and spent all her waking hours thinking of Ian—remembering the weight of his arms around her, his heart beating against her cheek.
Of course, spending all her time dreaming about Ian wasn’t helping her get ready for the trip. Though she looked forward to his almost daily phone calls, she made him switch to email before he got a phone bill he would regret.
His emails were short, sweet, and impatient. The things weighing on him most were things he preferred to tell her in person. He couldn’t wait to see her.
She wrote back the same.
Tuesday morning, she checked the time for Aunt Grace’s Wednesday appointment with Dr. Fletcher and, with a wave of numbing apprehension, remembered her plan to visit the doctor herself. The palpitations on the beach. Her mom’s condition. Her genetic condition. She pushed the intrusion aside and left for work. But throughout the day, thoughts of Ian kept bringing her back to what she desperately wished she could forget.
By the time she left work and headed home, she could think of nothing else. The files and studies and links she’d saved on her computer about Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. The notes she’d taken. The search she’d begun after that disturbing conversation with her drunken father one night two years ago.
He didn’t seem to remember the incident later—he’d been so out of it at the time—but Emily couldn’t forget. She’d stopped to see him after a bowling date with the friend of a friend who had just returned from Afghanistan.
Dad was muttering and slurring his words more than usual. Tired of trying to talk to him, she left, but he’d followed her out to the porch, spewing awful things at her. “No more dating. No marriage. Just stay with Grace. Stay out there in the desert.”
She’d asked him why he said such things.
“Figure it out yet? You, your mom, your grandma ... ruin a man’s life. You can’t do that. You’ll put him through a living hell.” He’d staggered back inside.
Stunned, Emily had decided it was his pain talking and left. She tried to sympathize, but still—what a thing to say to his own daughter. When she asked about it later, he claimed he had no idea what she was talking about. But what he’d said got her thinking and she started digging. Over time, she found sobering clues about the mysteriously early deaths of both her mom and her grandma.
The one mystery she couldn’t solve was how much her dad knew. And if he knew something, why hadn’t he told her?
When she arrived home after work, she killed the motor but remained in the Jeep, listening to the tick of the cooling engine. She needed to face what she’d been trying to ignore. If she had truly inherited a fatal illness, she needed to know.
But I don’t want to know. I love him.
That’s why you need to know. If you love him.
Later that night, after Aunt Grace went to bed, Emily went out on the porch, took a deep breath, and punched in her dad’s number. As she waited for him to answer, the bizarre reality of what she was doing seized her.
What girl calls her dad to ask if she’s dying?
Lord, I wish Mom were still alive. Dad would be happy. Things would be so different.
Click. “This is Ray.”
He actually answered? Emily fumbled to speak. “Hi, it’s me, Dad.”
“What do you want?”
Good question. The sudden dryness in her throat forced her to swallow hard. “I sent you an email. I wanted to make sure you got it.”
“What is it?”
“Our travel itinerary. Aunt Grace and I are leaving for Scotland in a couple days. I thought you might want it, if you’re interested. Or in case anything happens.”
Silence. She could see him, that pallid, weary look permanently stamped on his stubbly face. He always looked much too tired for a man his age. “How long?”
“Four weeks.” She paced the length of the porch, gathering her nerve with each step.
The line rumbled as he cleared his throat. “I want to know something.”
“Yeah? So do I,” she said.
“That guy I met from Scotland—MacLean. Is he the reason you’re going?”
“No. I mean, not exactly.” Not originally, anyway. “Why do you ask?”
He didn’t answer.
Emily stopped and braced against the post. C’mon, Dad, say what you said to me before. Tell me what you know.
“I’m not stupid.”
Wincing at the deadness in his words, she said, “What do you mean?”
“Does he love you?” His voice sounded like gravel.
Yeah, someone loves me, Dad. Finally. A ripple of pain pulsed through her. Every crushed hope and every ache during those lonely, empty years following her mom’s death rushed back, caught Emily off guard, sent her trembling. Needing to move, she launched off the porch and headed for the road.
“Emily.” His voice wavered. “Does MacLean love you?”
“Yes, he does.” She walked faster. “And I love him.”
The line went silent.
“Dad, what’s this really about?”
“You can’t be with him.”
“Why?”
“You just can’t. Break it off. Now. Before it goes any further.”
She stopped and took a deep, bolstering breath. “Dad, is this about me possibly having what Mom had? Do you know anything about that?”
Silence. Except he was breathing hard, as if the conversation had suddenly become too taxing. “Forget MacLean. You’ll only hurt him.”
The cool steel of his words sliced her heart, sending tart words to her tongue before she could stop them. “Why? Because you don’t want to see him hurt, or me happy?”
Thick silence.
Click.
Wednesday morning, Emily drove Aunt Grace in her old, green Buick to Bend for some last-minute shopping before Grace’s doctor appointment. Once Dr. Fletcher had taken care of Grace’s medication refills, Emily had some questions about what effect their upcoming trip might have on her aunt’s health.
Dr. Fletcher appreciated Emily’s concerns, but assured her Grace could travel. After he finished discussing Aunt Grace, the doctor smiled at Emily. “And how about you, young lady? Still running?” He leaned closer. “You know what happens if you run too much?”
Emily shook her head.
“Makes it harder for the boys to catch you.”
With a smile, Emily shook her head. She’d known Grace’s doc long enough to know he was from a generation that had no use for “political correctness.”
“You’re probably well-prepared for hiking the Scottish hills. I hear the countryside is breathtaking, especially in late summer. You must be eager to go.”
“Yes.” At least I was. “Actually, there is a health issue I’d like to ask you about.” She glanced at Aunt Grace.
Lips pursed, he nodded. “Grace, Emily and I need to step out into the hall for a moment. Are you okay? Do you need assistance?”
Aunt Grace smiled. “Och, no dearie. I always dress myself.”
“I’ll be right back, Aunt Grace.” Emily followed the doctor. In the hall, Emily asked if he knew about DNA testing for Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.
Dr. Fletcher explained that Oregon Health and Sciences University in Portland offered individual genetic testing as well as clinical research studies. “Why do you ask?”
“I think both my mom and grandmother died of HCM and I need to know what the chances are that I inherited it. How soon can I get tested?”
He hesitated. “Well, it’s a process. Initially, it’s done to confirm a doctor’s diagnosis. It involves screening, preliminary examinations—a number of things.” He studied her. “We would need to begin with a full examination. Have you experienced any symptoms? Shortness of breath, dizziness, fatigue, heart palpitations?”
Emily remembered the episode on the beach. “Yes, a few of those.”
Frowning, he nodded. “Those can be heart related. They can also be attributed to stress.” He patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you see me for an exam when you return from your trip? We’ll go from there.”
She swallowed the tightness in her throat. “I need to know as soon as possible. In Scotland, there’s a man ...” She swallowed again, fighting for control of her voice. “It’s really important that I know before I leave, if possible. He’s already been through ... He’s a widower.” Unable to trust her voice to finish, she met his gaze. Would he understand?
“Ah.” He studied her, nodding. “Okay. Tell you what, Emily. Have a seat in the waiting room with Grace. Someone will call for you in a few minutes.”
In the lobby, Emily got Aunt Grace a cup of tea and found a short story in a magazine to read to her. As she read, her heart whispered a prayer. Lord, please help the doctor tell me one way or the other so I know for sure. For Ian’s sake. But, Lord, please, could You just make me well? So no one suffers? So he and I can think about a life together?
“Emily Chapman?” A nurse clad in blue waited in the doorway.
Leaving Aunt Grace, Emily trailed after the woman. But instead of an exam room, the nurse led Emily to an X-ray area. She fitted her with the proper gear and guided Emily through the positioning, stepped around the door, and buzzed a few times.
Emily watched the nurse’s face for a telltale sign, for something.
The nurse finished up and sent her to Dr. Fletcher’s office to wait.
About five minutes later, he arrived with her film. He stuck it on a wall-mounted case and flipped on the backlight.
Holding her breath, Emily stared at it, half expecting to see something weird. It was the first time Emily had seen an image of her own heart. Was it normal? Abnormal?
“Remember, an X-ray is not entirely conclusive, Emily. Now then, this one tells us that your heart is slightly enlarged, which can indicate HCM.”
Dizziness hit and Emily gripped the chair arms to steady herself. So it was true. She made herself focus on the doctor’s words.
“But it can also be caused by a number of other things. There are some additional tests we can run, but it’s not imperative to do them now. Go on and take Grace to Scotland, and I’ll see you when you get back. Be sure and make an appointment at the desk before you leave. Okay?”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
Enlarged heart ... HCM ...
In a daze, Emily passed the appointment desk, collected her aunt, and escorted her to the sedan. It wasn’t until much later, as they neared Juniper Valley, that Emily realized she’d been driving in silence, lost in a numbing cold fog.
“So quiet, dearie. But of course ye’re tired.” Aunt Grace sighed. “Such a dear lass. All this fuss for such a tiresome, old woman.”
Emily shot a quick look at her aunt. “Oh, no. It’s no trouble at all, Aunt Grace. I was just thinking.”
A jab of guilt stirred her already churning stomach. She’d spent the entire drive home trying to decide whether or not she should tell Ian and hadn’t once thought about her dear aunt. How could she tell Grace? Confiding in the old woman would only distress her.
There was one person who would never forgive her if she didn’t confide.
When they arrived at the house, Emily slipped outside and called Jaye. She eased into the details of what she’d learned and did her best to soften the news.
“What? You’ve known about this?” Jaye’s voice jumped two octaves. “Emily, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I—I didn’t want to say anything until I knew more.” Emily swallowed hard. If Jaye thought Emily was crying, she would crumble.
“You have to check into the hospital right now and get a full checkup. I mean it, Em. What if, you know, something happens while you’re in Scotland? What then?”
Emily squeezed her eyes tight. As much as she loved that her friend cared, her alarm wasn’t helping. “Dr. Fletcher doesn’t seem too worried if he thinks I can wait a month for a full exam.”
She finally convinced Jaye it wasn’t necessary to come over and ended the call. The doctor didn’t think it was anything to worry about right now. Emily had to hold onto that hope and silence the menacing whisper. I can’t die. What about the Juniper Ranch kids? What about having a home of my own?
What about Ian?
Emily steeled herself to put it aside for a while and spent the evening helping Aunt Grace fit the new purchases in her suitcases. After Grace went to bed, Emily scoured the Oregon Health and Sciences University website. She found the genetic counseling department and sent a request for information on testing, praying she would hear from someone before Friday. Two more days. She needed at least to make contact and, with any luck, start the process to schedule tests.
Once her message was sent, she looked at the research studies offered at OHSU. She skimmed several articles until she saw a section with the heading Enlarged Heart. The article gave a list of tests to determine the extent of tissue damage. The end of the section included a list of other possible causes of an enlarged heart. She read the list twice, focusing on one bulleted point in particular.
Regular exercise—such as running—could also cause a slightly enlarged heart, was considered normal, and posed no health risks.
Emily drew a slow breath and let the information sink in. What if her running routine was all it was? And maybe her little episode at the beach was just stress, like the doctor said.
It was possible.
She read her Bible and slipped into bed, praying as her head hit the pillow. Ian was waiting for her, longing to see her. Her heart ached.
Her dad had a point.
If this turned out badly, Ian would be hurt—again. If her future was uncertain, then she couldn’t allow him to continue caring for her. But if nothing was wrong, she didn’t want to push him away needlessly.
I need to know, God. Help me know for sure, one way or the other. “Because by Friday,” she whispered in the dark, “I’ll be in Scotland, no matter what.”