He called me on February 14th as I was thumbing through a bridal magazine in my room. He’d sent me a beautiful Valentine and a heart-shaped box of my favorite chocolates. I started to thank him, but he interrupted me.
“I got the results today,” he said. “The genetic test results.”
“And?”
“There is one potential problem.”
“Tell me.”
“It seems I’m a CF carrier.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I have a mutated copy of the CFTR gene. The genetic counselor went into a lot of detail, and I didn’t understand all of it. But a defective CFTR gene causes cystic fibrosis. As a carrier, I could pass the defective gene to my children.”
I gripped the phone tightly. “And then what? Do your children get cystic fibrosis?”
“No. Not if the mother—you, in this case—is not a carrier. But if you are, then our children would have a twenty-five percent chance of getting CF.”
“That’s one in four, Trey. That’s a pretty high risk.”
“I know. But the chances of both of us being carriers are slim. Do you have your test results yet?”
“No. I’ll call them tomorrow to check. I’m sure I won’t be a carrier. There’s no family history of CF on my mother’s side, or on the Larson side that I know of.”
“Me either. But the counselor said there doesn’t need to be a family history for this to occur. Anyway, try not to worry. The rest of my results were fine, and yours will be perfect. I’m sorry if I’ve spoiled Valentine’s Day.”
“You didn’t. I’m curled up in bed, munching on chocolates and reading a bridal magazine.”
“I wish I could curl up with you.”
“Me too. I miss you so much. Why don’t I fly over next weekend? I’m hungry for one of your specialties.”
“Which kind, Elise? The food kind, or . . .”
“Both. I’m hungry for both.”
“That’s good. I’ll be happy to satisfy your hunger. And bring your test results, so we can go over them together. In fact, I’ll make an appointment with my counselor, so she can compare them and explain things to us. Fly over on Friday and I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay. I’ll see you on Friday. I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I got a copy of my test results two days later but did not speak with a counselor in Boise, deciding to wait until Trey and I met with his counselor on Friday. I did not even open the envelope for fear I might see something about a defective CFTR gene. Surely not, I thought. The chances are so slim. But I was still afraid to look.
Trey met me at the airport with open arms that held me close and it felt so good. So right. He grabbed my suitcase and we ran across the parking lot in the pouring rain, soaked and laughing when we reached his car.
“Welcome back to Eugene,” he said as we got inside. “Did you miss the rain?”
“No. But I missed you.” I scooted close to him, my mouth finding his and our tongues renewing their acquaintance while the pounding rain obliterated all other sounds.
I finally broke the kiss and ran my fingers through his wet hair. “Take me home,” I urged. “Take me to bed.”
“Can’t, love. We’re due at the counselor’s office in half an hour. But after that, I’m all yours.”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.” I tied my hair into a ponytail that dripped water down my back, knowing I looked a mess but not really caring. I was with Trey, who loved me regardless and always would.
The genetic counselor, Mrs. Pierce, was familiar with Trey’s test results but spent a long time scrutinizing mine. Trey and I sat side by side in front of her desk, holding hands and waiting for her to speak. I started to worry. If things are fine, I wondered, why is she taking so long? And why is she frowning?
She finally looked up and made one feeble attempt to smile, but it quickly faded. “Well,” she said. “Well.”
“Well, what?” Trey asked. “What about the CFTR gene? Is Elise a CF carrier?”
“No. She does not have a defective CFTR gene or any other abnormal genes. But the DNA tests show something I wasn’t expecting, based on the family history you provided.”
Something in her tone frightened me. I tightened my grip on Trey’s hand. “What is it? Do we carry a risk of some other dread disease or birth defect? Is it because we’re cousins?”
She shook her head and looked squarely at me. “According to the DNA tests, you and Trey share twenty-five percent of your DNA. Cousins share twelve and a half percent.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“It means that you and Trey are half-siblings. He is your half-brother.”
I stared at her in shock and disbelief. “That can’t be true! It’s impossible! We have different parents. Our fathers are brothers. That’s all. Our parents would never . . . Tell her, Trey. Tell her she’s wrong. The tests are wrong.”
I was babbling, but Trey was strangely calm. “Of course they’re wrong. We’re cousins. There’s no way our parents would’ve done something like that. It’s unthinkable. We’ll retake the tests at different labs and get accurate results next time.”
He got up, pulled me to my feet and put an arm around my waist. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Pierce,” he said. “We’ll get the tests redone with better results.”
“These tests are very accurate, Mr. Larson. I have no reason to doubt them. Before you incur the cost of a retake, I suggest you speak with your parents.”
“I intend to. We’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.”
The rain came down in sheets on our way to his apartment, but I scarcely noticed. I glanced at him as he stared straight ahead, carefully navigating through the downpour. Is it possible? I thought. Is he my half-brother?
He read my mind, as he so often did. “Forget it, Elise. I’m not your damn brother, or half-brother, or whatever the hell she thinks I am. The tests are wrong, plain and simple. I’m your cousin. That’s all.”
I said nothing, but I felt his tension as it thrummed against my own. He wasn’t as certain as he pretended to be. Neither was I. We rode the rest of the way in uncomfortable silence.
He grabbed my suitcase and we dashed up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, dripping water all over the parquet floor of the entryway. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering.
“Don’t you even own an umbrella?” I asked. “Or are you truly a duck?”
“Sorry,” he replied, kicking off his shoes. “Take off your clothes while I grab some towels. I’ll be right back.”
Too miserable to argue, I peeled off my wet clothes and dropped them on the floor in a soggy pile. He returned with a stack of large bath towels, wrapping two around me before he stripped off his own clothes and dropped them on top of mine.
We stood there and looked at that big pile of soaked clothes and we laughed. I tossed him a towel and he wrapped it around his waist and we laughed, standing barefoot on the slippery floor while our wet hair dripped rivulets of water down our faces and necks.
We laughed until he wrapped his damp arms around me and held me close. “Still cold?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Okay, then. Let’s get warm.”
I followed him to the shower and joined him under the warm spray and it felt so good. He grabbed the soap and lathered me all over while I did the same for him and it felt even better. And then, when we were all warm and slick and soapy, our fingers found each other’s most sensitive places and we teased and stroked and fondled until he entered me and we exploded and it felt so amazing. So right. Because whatever else we were, we belonged together. Just like this. Two as one.
We dried each other and fell into his bed, snuggling under the covers for warmth while the rain pounded the roof and sluiced across the window. I slept for a while in his arms, cozy and warm and sated. When I woke up, he was playing with my still-damp hair. The rain hadn’t let up a
nd the room was dark.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Late afternoon, I guess. We missed lunch. Are you hungry? I could fix one of my specialties.”
“I love your specialties,” I whispered in his ear. “I love everything about you. I always will.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. I promise.” I kissed him and we forgot all about food. We were too busy enjoying those other specialties he was so good at.
Chapter 15
T rey flew back to Boise with me on Saturday, determined to clear up this “half-sibling thing” by speaking to our fathers in person before we retook the genetic tests.
“It’s impossible,” he said once again as we got into my car at the Boise Airport. “My father adored my mother. Hell, he still does, and she’s been dead for twenty-three years! There’s no way he would’ve had sex with Lisa just three months after Elise’s death. No way!”
“I agree,” I said, weaving my way through Boise’s rush-hour traffic. “The only other possibility is my father having sex with Elise, but she never would have done that. She loved Johnny too much. I’ve read her book, Trey. Your parents were absolutely devoted to each other. Elise was never unfaithful to Johnny.”
“So that’s it, then,” Trey said when I pulled into Daddy’s driveway. “Sex between Johnny and Lisa? No way. Sex between Jim and Elise? Never happened. I’m not your brother, just like I’ve been saying. The damn tests are wrong.”
I took a deep breath. “Let’s go inside and talk to our fathers. Let them confirm it. Then we can retake the tests, get accurate results and proceed with our plans.”
“A June wedding in San Francisco?”
“Yes. Right after your graduation.”
He pulled me into his arms on the front porch. “I love you so much. I can’t imagine life without you.”
“That won’t happen. Let’s go inside, so our fathers can clear this up.”
We’d called our fathers from Eugene and asked them to join us for an “important meeting” without any further explanation, so they were waiting in the family room with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. After the obligatory greetings, Trey and I sat together on the sofa while Uncle Johnny and my father settled into oversized leather chairs across from us.
The Larson brothers, I thought. Johnny and Jim. Such big, handsome men, almost identical in looks but with very different personalities. And Elise had loved them both.
“Well?” Johnny said. “I left work in the middle of a major project for this meeting, so it better be important. What’s this all about?”
I looked at Trey, hoping he’d take the lead. Johnny always made me a bit nervous.
“It’s about us,” Trey said, taking my hand. “Elise and me. We’re in love. We plan to marry in June.”
“The hell you say!” That was Johnny. My father said nothing, but I saw the horror on his face.
“I do say,” Trey affirmed. “Look, I know it’s unusual, but cousin marriages are legal in many states, which is why we’re going to California.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Trey. You and Elise cannot be married in California or any other state. Jim, help me out here. Say something, for God’s sake! Didn’t you see this coming?”
“No more than you, brother. I knew they were close as cousins, and I told her to keep their relationship on that level. I never thought . . .”
“You never thought! So while you’ve been closing your eyes and your mind to reality, Trey and Elise have . . .” Johnny glared at us. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been intimate.”
“What if we have?” Trey was angry and defensive. “We’re adults and we’re in love. Sex is a natural thing, and being cousins doesn’t prohibit . . .”
Johnny stood up and sliced his hand through the air, cutting off Trey’s argument. “It’s not a natural thing for the two of you, son. It’s unnatural and prohibited, because Elise is not your cousin. She’s your sister!”
His words hit me like a physical blow, seeming to drive all the air from the room. Grasping Trey’s hand, I struggled to breathe past the pounding of my heart. Sister? I thought. Trey is my brother? No!
Trey dropped my hand and stood to confront his father. “What are you saying?” he demanded. “Are you telling us that you had sex with Lisa? Just three months after my mother died? I don’t believe it. I’ll never believe it! You . . . she . . .”
Johnny shook his head. “I haven’t touched another woman since your mother died.”
“Then is Jim my father? Did Jim and Elise . . .”
“Hell, no! Never.” Johnny turned to his brother. “You tell them, Jim. Tell them the truth before their imaginations run completely wild. The whole damn thing was your idea in the first place. I’m going outside for some air. Christ, what a mess!”
The front door slammed as I pulled Trey back down beside me. “Daddy?”
He looked at me with eyes full of regret. “I never meant for this to happen,” he began. “I never meant to hurt you. I love you with all my heart, Elise. I am your father in every way that matters. But Johnny is your biological father, which makes Trey your half-brother.”
“But . . .”
“Please. Let me tell the whole story. Then maybe you’ll understand. Your mother desperately wanted a baby of her own, but I kept putting it off, saying I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure our marriage would last, you see, because I . . .” He paused, searching for words. “Anyway, on her deathbed, Elise asked me to love Lisa and give her a baby. I promised to try.”
He rose and began pacing back and forth in front of us. “Loving Lisa wasn’t difficult,” he said. “She was a wonderful woman who willingly forgave my foolishness. But the baby part—that’s where we had problems.”
“What problems?” Trey asked.
“We decided to undergo genetic testing pre-pregnancy, just to be certain there were no genetic defects that could affect a baby. When the tests showed we were both CF carriers, we were devastated. Are you familiar with cystic fibrosis and how a carrier can pass it to a baby?”
We nodded. I began to see where this was going.
“Since we were both carriers, we decided the risk was too great. We considered adoption, but Lisa wanted to experience pregnancy and having a baby of her own. She cried for weeks over this, until I finally suggested insemination with donor sperm. Johnny was the donor.”
“Whose brilliant idea was that?” Trey asked bitterly. “Yours? His?”
“Mine. Lisa and I weren’t comfortable with using sperm from an unknown donor, so I asked Johnny. He reluctantly agreed to do it privately, at our home. He did it for his Elise, who loved Lisa and knew how much she wanted a baby. Johnny was an ideal donor. His genetic testing turned out fine, and because we are brothers, the baby’s paternity would never be questioned.”
“Until now,” Trey said.
“Yes. Until now.”
“Does anyone else know about this little family secret? Grandma? Granddad Quinn?”
“No. Only Lisa, Johnny and me. And now you, of course.”
Trey stood up. “So that’s it, then. The secret remains with us, and that’s the end of it.”
“What do you mean?” Daddy asked.
“It means I don’t really give a damn whose sperm was used to create Elise. I love her, and I intend to marry her.”
“You can’t be serious.” Johnny stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest.
“I’m quite serious. We’ll be married in California in June.”
“Elise is your sister!”
“Half-sister. But to our family and the rest of the world, she’s my cousin. That’s all.”
“What you’re proposing is illegal and immoral.”
“Don’t lecture me about laws and morals,” Trey countered. “I know something of your history, after all. I know what you’ve done and where you’ve been.”
“That was years ago, before you were born.”
“Does that excuse it, then? The pai
n you caused my mother?”
I’d heard enough. “Stop it, Trey. Attacking your father won’t change a thing. And he’s right. Our marriage would be illegal in every state.”
He stared at me as I stood up. “Elise . . .”
I shook my head. “I need some time. Time to think. Go back to Eugene. Finish your dissertation. We’ll talk at some point, but not right now. Please. Just go.”
He reached for me but I spun away, out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom before my tears started to fall. I lay on top of the bed where Trey and I had made passionate love during Christmas week. We’d been so happy then—so full of hope and plans for our future together. He’d convinced me that the “cousin thing” was not a problem; we could get married in California and begin our Happily Ever After life with our family’s blessing.
How naïve we’d been. How foolish! Gripping a wad of wet tissues, I rolled onto my side and buried my face in the pillow, wishing this whole thing was just a bad dream.
“Elise? Honey?” My father tapped on the door. “May I come in?”
I propped my pillow against the headboard and sat up. “Sure, Daddy.”
He sat on the edge of my bed and took my hand—the one that wasn’t holding the wet tissues. “Elise,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what, Daddy? What are you sorry for?”
“First, let me tell you what I’m not sorry for. I’m not sorry for what we did to create you, because you have blessed our lives beyond measure. From the moment you were born—and I was there—a loving bond wrapped around the three of us that was stronger than I could’ve imagined. You were our child. Ours. I never thought of you as anyone else’s child. The biological fact of your creation never entered my mind. And although I’ve never understood the workings of my brother’s mind, I’m pretty sure he didn’t think of it, either. Do you believe me?”
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