by Stacy Monson
Grateful Lindy detested doing dishes and hadn’t moved anything on the counter, Mikayla carefully collected her own sample and samples from her parents. Just before sealing the packet, she added samples from Lindy and Maggie as well. While the very idea that she was having her family’s DNA tested was beyond ridiculous, it was the only way to silence Beau’s voice that continued to whisper from a dark corner of her mind. She readied the package for mailing, then pulled out the pre-op information packet and read through the myriad of pages again.
“Let’s get this over with and move on,” she said firmly. With so much to look forward to, she was almost excited about the procedure. Almost.
~ 6 ~
Mikayla opened her eyes and focused on Dad’s glowing face, her hand in his. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. It’s over, kid, and everything went great.”
She smiled drowsily. “Ready to go home now.”
“Tomorrow morning. The surgeon will be here soon to share the gory details.”
“She said you were a model patient,” Mom added from the other side of the bed.
Mikayla rolled her eyes. “Because I was unconscious.”
“Good thing.” Dad chuckled. “Otherwise you’d have scrutinized how she made her surgical knots.”
“Mitchell!” Mom exclaimed.
Her mind clearing, Mikayla exchanged a grin with her dad. “Someone taught me there’s a right way and a wrong way to do things.”
“So you do listen to me.”
“Once in a while. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, you two,” her mother scolded.
How many times had she said that over the years? Mikayla closed her eyes with a contented sigh. If Dad was teasing her and Mom was protesting, all was right with the world.
The surgeon entered the cubicle with a broad smile. “Well done, Miss Gordon. You’re the most cooperative patient I’ve had this morning.”
A corner of her mouth lifted. “Since I was first on the list, I won’t get too excited.”
“Still, you’ve set the bar high for the others. Now, as for your procedure, all went well. You should feel very little discomfort and be ready for a full schedule in about a week. The hole was slightly larger than we’d thought, so I’m surprised you didn’t experience more symptoms.”
“There were times I was more tired than usual,” she said, “but nothing that made me think it was more than lack of sleep. Never passed out and fell out of the fishing boat, or off a cliff.”
The surgeon laughed and pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder. “I’ll check in on you once you’re in your room. Get some rest now. Tomorrow we’ll send you home with a fully functioning, strong heart.”
As she was moved to a private room, Mikayla touched her fingertips over the beat of her mended heart. Now she could get back to real life. Like launching the proposal Ted would take to the board. And not letting Dad off the hook with the excuse of her health. She’d never backed down from a challenge yet, and she wasn’t about to let him either. She’d learned it from him.
The email popped up in her inbox Tuesday evening. Funny how she’d nearly forgotten about it since Friday’s procedure. While she’d swept any questions from her mind, the waiting and wondering had lurked at the edges.
Before she could open the email, the front door opened and she slammed the laptop shut as Lindy entered laden with bags, Beau straggling behind with more.
“Wedding shopping is hard work!” her sister declared, motioning for Beau to set his collection on the coffee table.
“Hard on the wallet as well,” he grumbled.
“Hey. You offered to buy the last three.”
“So we could get out of there. I’m hoping you’ll return them like you return everything else.”
Their playful banter, usually entertaining, now grated as Mikayla folded her hands on the laptop. If she admitted that Beau’s harmless teasing had affected her enough to follow that rabbit trail, he’d never let her live it down.
“You okay, Mickie?” Lindy asked, using that silly childhood nickname.
She nodded quickly. “Yup. I was just thinking I need some of Mario’s cold brew lemonade so I’m going to walk over there.” She gathered her laptop and a few random papers, glancing sideways at her sister. “You guys sticking around here tonight?”
Beau wrapped his arms around Lindy from behind. “I scored Twins tickets. Baseball under the lights.”
“What could be more romantic.” Lindy rolled her eyes, then looked up at him with a grin. “But I’ll go for the nachos and a chance to get on the Kiss Cam.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Okay, well, you two have fun. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for a cameo on the Cam.” Mikayla waved as she went out the door. “Taa taa.”
The three-block walk to the coffee shop passed in slow motion. She waited at red lights, then weaved around couples pushing baby strollers and people meandering with their dogs. Once she had the lemonade in hand, she sped toward “her” table in the back corner, the perfect spot for people watching or hunkering down to get work done.
She clicked on the email from DNA Testing Ltd., and read through what seemed to be standard verbiage about the report findings, how to get questions answered, and who to contact for any follow-up.
There looked to be individualized reports for her comparison to each parent and to each sister. She opened the first of the attachments. A table comparing her DNA, Subject A, in the first two columns to Subject B, her mother’s, in the other two columns revealed row upon row of numbers that nearly all matched. She skimmed the page to the bottom where it stated an index number in the millions and released the breath she’d unknowingly held. “Probability of Maternity >99.9%.”
Take that, Beau! She grinned and opened the next attachment, the comparison between her and Dad. The grin dissolved as she skimmed the rows of numbers. Unlike the comparison with Mom, nothing matched between their columns. Row after row with different numbers.
Her gaze leaped to the bottom of the chart. The index number was a zero. She read through the numbers slower. No matches. Did they have different blood types? Was it a natural difference between male and female?
Her newly mended heart pounded against her ribs as she moved on to the comparison with Lindy. She blinked several times. Her number was also a zero. Her comparison with Maggie had some matches, though not as many as with Mom. At least her report had a number, but not in the millions like Mom’s.
The final attachment was a recap. Subject A was Mikayla. B was Mom, C—Dad, D— Lindy, and E—Maggie.
Subject A and Subject B = Match
Subject A and Subject C = No Match
Subject A and Subject D = No Match
Subject A and Subject E = Possible Familial Match
Her mother was a match, but not her father? Nor Lindy. But Maggie was a possibility? What did that even mean?
She dropped back against the chair, staring across the crowded coffee shop. The usual hum of conversation and laughter was muted, as if someone had put their hands over her ears. She shook her head, but the muffling remained.
Dad had never treated her as anything other than his own child. And she and Lindy had always been together. Hadn’t they? She frowned, racing through childhood memories. Was there a time when they weren’t? No. Every childhood photo had the two of them. From tiny infants. Inseparable. She had to be missing something.
The score at the bottom of her mother’s report, “Combined Maternity Index,” was in the millions, but Dad’s “Combined Paternity Index” was zero. Zero. The man she idolized, spent hour upon hour tromping through woods with or sitting quietly together in a fishing boat wasn’t her father?
Under the Index was a Test Conclusion section. Her mother’s report concluded with “is not excluded as the biological mother.” Was that a double negative? It seemed to say she was her biological mother.
She rubbed her eyes and looked at the Test Conclusion on her father’s repor
t. “Is excluded as the biological father.” As in definitively? There was no chance he was her biological father?
That just wasn’t possible. She was far more like him than Mom. Same warped sense of humor and love of the outdoors. Same skills and mannerisms. She and Mom were from different planets. The same hair color didn’t make a relationship, a bond.
Something had skewed the testing. She’d done it wrong, submitted the wrong items. She closed the laptop firmly. She’d call them first thing in the morning and resubmit everything. And she’d tell them what she thought of sending out reports like this to unsuspecting people, using science-speak that was not only confusing but could be life-altering if not read correctly.
Returning home, she breathed a sigh that Lindy and Beau were gone. She didn’t trust herself not to blurt out the skewed test results and scold Beau for even suggesting such a thing. She nibbled at a piece of toast, then threw the other slice away. Drank half a cup of coffee before dumping out the whole pot, and folded towels that had sat in the dryer for days. And she swatted away thoughts that poked at her, questioning where she belonged and who she was.
Settled under her covers after blindly watching the news, she curled into a ball as the questions crystallized. But if it’s true…then who am I? Who’s my real dad? Who am I to Lindy? Who knew the truth? And why hadn’t they told her?
“Good morning, DNA Testing Limited. This is Barbara. How can I help you?”
Mikayla took a deep breath and plunged in. “Hi Barbara. I received my reports yesterday, and I’d like to request more testing.”
“I see. Let me connect you to one of our counselors. Hold please.”
As she waited, Mikayla pressed a hand over her raging heartbeat. This whole misunderstanding would be resolved soon.
“Good morning!” a cheerful female voice said. “This is Wendy.”
“I just received some test results that I’m sure aren’t accurate. I’d like to request more testing.”
“All right. First, let me pull up your records. Do you have your client number?”
As the woman reviewed her reports, Mikayla said, “Could you explain the results in simple terms? I’m pretty confused by the wording.”
Wendy apologized. “We hear that a lot. The reports are based on scientific findings so unfortunately the results are worded that way. Let’s see… It appears that your comparison with your mother resulted in a match that’s as close to 100% as testing can get.”
“That’s what I thought it said.”
“And the comparison with your father…” She paused. “That report shows that you don’t share any DNA with that sample.”
Her world skidded to a stop, and she swallowed with difficulty. “Meaning?”
“That the person from whom you got that sample is not a blood relation to you.” Wendy’s earlier cheerfulness quieted.
“That’s not possible.” Her trembling fingers convulsed around the phone. “I share far more characteristics with my dad than my mom. I must have done something wrong with the sample. Maybe I should send in a new one? A better one.”
“Actually every sample you sent was very clear.”
“But…” No words formed a coherent sentence.
“Since you’re here in Minneapolis, would you like to come into the office to continue this in person?” Wendy asked gently.
So they could gawk at a thirty-year-old illegitimate daughter who no doubt resembled a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching semi? “No. I, uh…this is fine.”
“All right. Then let’s take a look at the other reports. Perhaps that news will be better.”
Not if she’d read those correctly.
Wendy compared both Lindy’s and Maggie’s DNA with Mom’s and Dad’s. Lindy had zero matches with either parent. And again, Maggie seemed to have some, but only with Mom. By the time they hung up, an endless twenty minutes later, Mikayla knew one thing for certain. Life as she’d known it—as any of them had known it—would never be the same. And everything she’d assumed as basic fact was simply a facade.
She called in sick to the office, then changed out of her work clothes and headed to her favorite wooded trail. The wobble in her legs made it difficult to navigate the dirt path so she focused her frayed energy into making it to the top of the hill where she sank to the ground.
Staring over the lake below, she struggled to corral her emotions, to isolate even one she could put a name to. Flashes of her childhood poked through the fog—playing hide and seek with Lin, getting math help from Maggie. Hours spent with Dad chopping wood, tying lures, hiking, camping.
Her eyes narrowed on the flight of a distant plane. Time spent alone with her mother seemed fleeting. Catching a quizzical frown on her face, or a flicker of surprise had always made Mikayla wonder what her mother saw in her. Now she knew. She saw him. Some man she’d cheated on Dad with.
The clarity of that realization brought her emotions into jarring focus. How dare she do that! A blast of anger sent her to her feet. Pacing the quiet spot, questions shot through her mind like fireworks, exploding into confusion. Who could possibly be better than Dad? Why would her mom risk everything for someone else? Obviously she hadn’t considered possible repercussions, like the lives that would be destroyed by her indiscretion.
“Has she always known I wasn’t his?” she demanded of a squirrel that dashed past. She followed it and continued. “Is that why she treated me differently? Do I look like him?”
She stopped. Does Dad know?
Tears shot up her throat. Could he have known and still treated her the way he did? What would the truth do to their relationship? She dropped down at the base of a tree and buried her face in her hands. What would she do if he started treating her differently? If their time together changed, or even ended?
The fury morphed into fear so paralyzing she couldn’t breathe. The DNA results had shattered everything that mattered—her relationship with her beloved dad, the connection with Lindy, her family structure. Nothing would ever be the same. The life she knew—thought she knew—was gone.
She needed answers. Putting a hand to the tree, she pushed to her feet and stood quietly, pulling courage from deep inside. Show no weakness. Rely only on yourself. Her new mantra going forward. Much as she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers, she had to know the truth. Where had Lindy come from? Was Maggie illegitimate too? Who knew what about this mess?
Ignoring the stab in her newly mended heart, she set her shoulders and headed down the trail. One person knew everything, so that’s where she’d start. But even with answers, the cracks in her heart wouldn’t be so easily mended.
~ 7 ~
Mikayla stood on the front step, the tremble in her legs forcing her against the railing as she drew a slow breath. She put a hand against her chest, hoping the crazed flutter wouldn’t reopen the hole. She didn’t want this conversation. Didn’t want the results folded up in her purse. Anguish burned under her ribs, and she jammed her finger on the bell.
The front door opened, and her mother’s face lit with a smile as she pushed the outside door open. “Hi, honey. You didn’t have to ring the bell, you know that. Come in.”
Mikayla went to the couch where she sank down before her legs gave out.
“This is a nice surprise,” Mom said, closing the door and joining her. “I never get to see you during the— Mikayla?” She paused mid-step. “What’s wrong? Is it your heart?”
And my life. And my future.
Her mother perched next to her and reached for her hand. Mikayla pulled back and moved to the chair. She’d rehearsed this conversation on the drive over, but now there were no words. Fear locked her jaw.
“Mikayla, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
Mikayla looked at the familiar face, childhood memories colliding in confusion. This couldn’t be true. She pulled the paper from her purse and held it out.
Her mother took it cautiously. “What’s this?”
Mikayla blinked and nodded t
oward it, jaw clenched.
After a long moment, Mom unfolded it and read, the blood draining from her face. She put shaking fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. “I see.”
I see? Mikayla waited for a denial, a protest. Silence. She blinked hard, refusing the tears that burned. The strangle-hold on her throat didn’t allow room for breath let alone words.
“Mikayla, I…”
Mikayla had never seen so many emotions cross her unflappable mother’s face. “It’s true?”
When her mother folded her arms across her stomach, Mikayla willed her to deny it, claim it was a misunderstanding or that the DNA results were wrong. Something. Anything.
“Apparently.”
The last thread of hope unraveled. “Apparently? What does that mean?”
“There’s so much to the story, I don’t know where to start.”
Anger flared. “How about at the point where you decided to cheat on Dad.”
“I didn’t! I would never have made that decision.”
Her breath caught. “You were raped?”
“No! Not that. It was just a…a mistake. A terrible mistake after too much wine.”
The whispered words shot into Mikayla’s heart with a force that knocked her back in the chair. She wasn’t even the product of a loving relationship. She was a mistake. “So that makes it okay? Like I should feel better knowing you didn’t even care about him?”
Her mother flinched. “That’s not true.”
“Is Lindy the result of a different one-night stand?”
“No!”
“But she’s not my twin.”
“No.” The word came on a sigh. “You were born within days of each other, and we got her when she was just two weeks old. It seemed best to simply raise you as twins.”
“Best for who?” Mikayla stood and paced. “Were you ever going to tell us?”
“Yes.” She lifted her hands, then dropped them into her lap. “We had planned to, but we didn’t know how after all this time.”