Claim

by Janet Nissenson

  Tessa wiped away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks, not even aware that she’d been weeping for her mother, for the sad, neglected little girl she’d been. Ian didn’t speak, but reached over and took her hand in his, silently letting her know that he was here for her.

  “Why - why would my grandmother have been permitted to regain custody of her?” asked Tessa in disbelief. “After what she did - my mother could have died that night.”

  “That’s exactly what I said at the custody hearing several months after that night,” replied Doctor Phelps. “My recommendation was that your grandmother remain institutionalized and your mother stay in foster care. But, well, this is a small town, my dear, and subjects like mental illness and child abuse aren’t often discussed. Plus, your grandmother had a case worker who was very committed to keeping families together, and was able to convince the judge that Corinne was fine now, that all she’d really needed was the right medications and a little therapy and that she missed her little girl terribly. So they gave Gillian back to her mother, and Corinne never brought her to my offices again. I assume if she needed to see a doctor that Corinne would drive her to the next town or even into Minneapolis.”

  Tessa shuddered. “She knew that you were onto her, that you’d be watching my mother very closely for any new bruises or other signs, and wouldn’t hesitate to report her. And according to the books, the abuse continued off and on for several years, until my mother was old enough and big enough to fight her off. But by then I think it was too late. My mom - well, she’d already started showing signs of bipolar disorder herself.”

  The doctor sat up a little straighter in his chair at this news. “Your mother was also bipolar? Are you certain of that, Tessa?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I mean, she never actually told me that, but once I was old enough to read up on the subject, I figured it out for myself. She exhibited all of the symptoms - the manic episodes where she’d go three or four days without sleeping, would write for hours at a time, talk a mile a minute, have - have strange men over.” She felt her cheeks flush at having to admit the latter. “And then it would all come crashing down overnight, and it would be days or even weeks before she’d get out of bed. The older I got, she had fewer manic episodes and was just depressed all the time. That - that’s what ultimately contributed to her death.”

  And because she was openly sobbing by now, burying her face against Ian’s strong, comforting shoulder, it was left to him to tell the doctor about the fire that had taken Gillian’s life and left Tessa an orphan. Ian stroked her back soothingly, pressing tender kisses to the top of her head, and crooning to her softly.

  When she was calmer, she accepted a tissue from the doctor, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

  “I’m sorry to have fallen apart like that,” she apologized. “It’s just - well, hearing what actually happened from someone who was there makes it all seem so real. My mom had a very vivid imagination, but I never knew if the stories she told me were real or not. And when I finally got to read her books last year, I wanted to believe so desperately that her story was just another figment of her imagination. But it wasn’t. It was all too horribly real, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so,” the doctor told her quietly. “And, forgive me, Tessa, but I must ask you this. Have you ever exhibited any signs of depression or manic behavior yourself?”

  But before Tessa could reply, Ian was already blurting out, “No! She’s perfectly fine, Doctor Phelps. I’ve lived with her nearly round the clock for the past year, and there has never been the slightest sign that she’s suffering from any sort of mental illness. She is nothing like her mother or grandmother.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Ian,” she scolded him lightly. “We both know that isn’t true. Not really.” To Doctor Phelps she added, “I’ve never had a manic episode, or anything remotely like one. But I have had bouts of depression on and off for years, ever since I was a teenager. Though Ian is right - that hasn’t happened now for a long time.”

  “Have you ever spoken to a psychiatrist or another mental health professional?” asked Doctor Phelps. “Or even discussed the matter with your general practitioner?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Ian suggested that maybe I should do that once, but that was a year ago and I haven’t really been depressed since then.”

  “Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on the surface of his desk. “May I ask how old you are, Tessa? I’d guess at mid-twenties.”

  “Yes. I’ll be twenty-six at the end of May.”

  “I see.” There was another thoughtful pause before the doctor continued. “Obviously, I’m far from an expert on the matter, but I have done some research on the disorder, mostly because of your grandmother. From what I recall, the average age of onset for the disorder is right around twenty five. And I’m sorry to tell you that research has also shown the condition to be genetic. I would strongly encourage you to speak to a psychiatrist when you return home and be evaluated. I believe there are certain kinds of genetic tests they have available now to determine if you’re at risk. And the fact that both your mother and grandmother were bipolar makes it even more urgent for you to be tested.”

  Tessa felt her entire body go numb, and she was suddenly unable to speak or even think coherently. She sat in the chair, frozen in place, and barely heard Ian begin to argue with Doctor Phelps that she wasn’t necessarily at risk, that according to his research family history was far from absolute in this sort of situation, and that she’d exhibited zero signs of any sort of instability.

  Doctor Phelps shrugged. “As I said, Mr. Gregson, I’m just a simple country doctor, with little to no background in mental health. This is just my opinion based on some admittedly old data. But I would definitely recommend you seek out the opinion of a psychiatrist and quickly. Tessa is at the exact age when the majority of patients begin to show signs of the disorder. And with the two of you getting married soon, especially if you’re thinking of having children one day - well, this is something you both need to consider very seriously.”

  Tessa didn’t remember bidding Doctor Phelps good-bye, or thanking him for his time. She couldn’t recall that Ian guided her back out to the BMW, and she more or less blanked out during the drive back to the hotel in Minneapolis. She merely stared out the window, silent and unresponsive, her brain unable to process everything she’d just learned - not only about her mother and grandmother but quite possibly about herself as well.

  Ian seemed resolved to leaving her alone and not pushing her to discuss what had happened, making the drive back into the city a little faster than the journey out. Back up in the suite, he ordered a late lunch for them, cajoling her to eat some soup and part of a sandwich and sipping some tea. She ate and drank automatically, barely tasting a bite, and all she could think about the whole time was her poor, helpless mother not having enough to eat as a child, going hungry, being neglected and abused.

  She sat and stared out the window of the suite as Ian quietly finished packing for her and assembling their bags. She thought distantly what a good man he was, how he took care of her and loved her, how he deserved someone so much better than she was. She shuddered to imagine the reaction of his wealthy, upper class family when they learned that their future daughter-in-law might have some terrible mental illness, and, worse, that she could pass it on to their grandchildren someday.

  And as she settled into her seat on the plush corporate jet an hour later, Tessa knew that she couldn’t willingly subject Ian or his family to what she might become, couldn’t take the risk that her own children might one day suffer from it, too.

  “Ian.”

  He glanced up from the newspaper he’d been reading, having continued to give her the space she needed to come to grips with everything they had been told back in Oak Grove. He took her hands in his now, giving them a reassuring squeeze, and smiled at her in a way that made her heart want to break. He was the most wonderful man in the entire world, the best man she’d ev
er known, and it would kill her to ever be parted from him.

  “What is it, darling?” he asked in that tender manner that always made her want to weep with joy. “Are you ready to talk about things? I’ve already sent Jordan an email asking him to recommend the very best psychiatrist in San Francisco for us to meet with. He’s checking on it for us and I’m confident he’ll -”

  “Ian. No.” She shook her head. “I - I can’t do this. I can’t put you through something so awful. You were never around my mother, so you don’t know how terrible this disorder is, the way it can just destroy a person, take away their life. And I won’t let it destroy you as well. So, when we get back to San Francisco, I’m going to move out on my own, get a job, and support myself. Please don’t try and talk me out of it, because it’s the only way I can get through this.”

  Tessa ignored the horror stricken look on his face, the utter disbelief, and rather calmly removed the gorgeous blue diamond engagement ring that had never left her finger since he’d placed it there last September. She held it out to him on her palm.

  “I can’t marry you, Ian,” she told him with a determination that she certainly didn’t feel. “It’s over between us.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  San Francisco

  “Doctor Gatlin is ready for you now, Tessa. Would you please come in?”

  Tessa glanced at Ian uncertainly, then back at the receptionist. “Would - that is, I’d like for my fiancé to meet with Dr. Gatlin as well. At the same time, that is. Is that okay?”

  Ian noticed the look of surprise on the receptionist’s face, but the woman merely nodded. “Yes, of course. As long as you give your consent, then I’m sure Doctor Gatlin won’t have a problem meeting Mr. Gregson. But you’ll have to ask her permission if he wants to remain in the room for your session.”

  Tessa nodded as Ian took her hand in his. “Of course. I just - well, we’re in this thing together.”

  The receptionist smiled kindly. She was an older woman, perhaps in her early fifties, and had a calm, reassuring manner about her - something that was probably a requirement of the job, considering she worked for one of the preeminent psychiatrists in the country.

  “I understand,” she soothed. “And since this is really more of a diagnostic appointment rather than a counseling session, the doctor will more than likely give her permission. This way, please.”

  Ian gave Tessa’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and she smiled up at him, squaring her chin in resolve as they entered the large, spacious office. For the past week, he’d been walking on eggshells around her, careful not to crowd her or push her too hard, but yet ever diligent that she didn’t renew the subject of moving out or, worse, breaking their engagement. It had taken all the powers of persuasion he could summon up, plus a great deal of silent prayer, to persuade her not to overreact to what they’d learned in Oak Grove, to give him a chance to prove everything was going to be all right, and mostly not to ever give up on their love for each other.

  The receptionist directed them to a sitting area in a corner of the office where a sofa and loveseat had been arranged around a glass-topped table. A carafe of water and several glasses had been left on the table.

  “Can I offer you some coffee or tea perhaps?” inquired the receptionist, who had introduced herself upon their arrival as Patty.

  Tessa shook her head, and Ian thanked Patty but assured her the water would be fine. Patty informed them that the doctor would be here in just another minute, then closed the office door behind her.

  He could feel the slight trembling of Tessa’s body beside him on the sofa, and slid an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

  “It’s going to be just fine, darling,” he told her, repeating the same words he’d used over and over again this past week. “We’ll get through this together, just like I’ve been telling you all week.” He kissed her temple. “Tessa, you’re not a girl of sixteen left to figure life out on your own anymore. And remember what I told you from the very beginning of our relationship - ours is forever and always going to be an equal partnership. That means supporting each other through good times and bad, and never, ever giving up on us. Like it or not, darling, you’re stuck with me for eternity, so get used to that idea.”

  She didn’t reply, merely cupping his cheek in her hand and smiling at him gratefully. But given the week they had just been through, he didn’t need words from her at this point. Just the fact that she was still here with him, that she hadn’t made good on her resolve to break their engagement and move out of their home, was enough to be thankful for at the moment.

  He’d had to fight off the urge all week not to keep her chained to his side, or hire a bodyguard to keep careful watch over her movements. After the tempestuous, emotional scene during the airplane ride home from Minneapolis a week ago, Ian had been terrified that Tessa would let all of her fears overwhelm her, would once again resolve that he was better off without her, and would try and disappear.

  But she’d stayed, though she continued to be a bundle of nerves, not sleeping well, barely eating, and remaining largely uncommunicative. Ian had cursed after learning the earliest possible appointment they could make with Doctor Ellen Gatlin was a full week away. He’d thought long and hard about finding a different psychiatrist, one who could squeeze them in immediately, but had changed his mind after speaking with Jordan.

  “Ian, it’s just a few days, man,” Jordan had pointed out. “And Ellen Gatlin is without doubt the absolute expert in bipolar disorder on the West Coast, maybe in the whole country. She’s written papers, books, given lectures, taught classes, discovered new therapies. You couldn’t find anyone better suited to help Tessa. Ellen has also worked closely with the labs who analyze the genetic tests, to refine the tests and improve their accuracy.”

  But Ian hadn’t been mollified. “Do you know her well?” he’d inquired. “Can you give her a call, try to get Tessa’s appointment moved up?”

  “I know her, but not well. Met her a couple of times at conferences and the like. She’s big time in her field, Ian, almost like a celebrity in her own way. And I’ve already called her office for you to get Tessa in as quickly as possible. If I hadn’t, you’d be looking at a month’s wait, minimum. Do have a little patience, huh?”

  Ian had cursed softly beneath his breath. “It’s not me, but Tessa. She’s on edge round the clock, doesn’t sleep or eat, and I’m half afraid she’s going to make good on her vow to move out and break our engagement in order to spare me the potential diagnosis.”

  Jordan had chuckled in response. “Well, if you’re really afraid she’s going to bolt, then do what I’d do if I really wanted to keep a woman with me - strip her naked and handcuff her to the bed. At least until your appointment on Friday.”

  Ian had chuckled in spite of himself, feeling at least marginally better after hearing Jordan’s reassurances about Doctor Gatlin. He’d resolved to show a bit more patience, especially for Tessa’s sake, and just to get through a day at a time until they could see the doctor.

  “Jordan assured me again this morning that Doctor Gatlin is the absolute best in the field in terms of treating bipolar disorder,” he told Tessa now. “Patients come from all over the country, even the world, to consult with her. She’s helped to pioneer the diagnostic tests, refine them, and get more conclusive results.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “She’s the best person to help us, Tessa, no matter what the diagnosis is. And we’re going to get through this together, all right?”

  She nodded, resting her blonde head wearily on his shoulder. He could see all too clearly the lines of exhaustion on her face, the dark circles under her eyes, and he made a mental note to ask Doctor Gatlin about possibly prescribing a sleeping pill so that Tessa could get some much needed rest. She’d also lost a few pounds in just this past week, unable to eat much due to all of her worrying and stress.

  But at least, thank Christ, she seemed to have given up on these ridiculous notions of hers about breaking their
engagement and moving out of the house so as not to be a burden on him. When she’d tried to hand him back her engagement ring during that tense flight home from Minnesota last week, his heart had nearly stopped in shock.

  Ian had stared at the ring in her palm in horror, unable to believe the words that had just fallen from her lips. He knew she was upset over everything they had just learned back in Oak Grove, that she was having a great deal of trouble in coming to terms with it all. But he had never, ever imagined that she would react in this way - going so far as to try and break things off with him, to move out of the house, and live alone. He cursed himself for acting so impulsively by bringing her to Oak Grove without having done some more research into her family background, cursed the loose tongue of the woman who’d lived next door to Tessa’s grandmother, and cursed the old doctor for putting the idea in Tessa’s head that she, too, was likely to suffer from the same mental illness that had ultimately taken the lives of both her mother and grandmother. He was furious with both of them for the unintentional consequences of their conversations, but mostly furious with himself for not having anticipated something like this happening. His intentions had been good ones, but, as it was turning out, taking Tessa to see the place where her mother had grown up had been one of the worst decisions of his life.