The Switch

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by Heather Justesen


  This was really true. Lisa should have been raised by Mona and Ron. Tia should have been the one whose father died when she was young, whose mother was ill with a genetic disease that might have been passed along not only to Tia, but to her daughters as well. The thought had her stomach clenching with anxiety. She’d done some research on Huntington’s disease. It was definitely not something she looked forward to experiencing, and all too soon, if she had gotten the gene.

  She supposed she ought to wait for similar results between herself and Lisa’s mom, but didn’t see the point. This was enough for her.

  The question was where to go from here.

  Thirty-nine

  Lisa received Tia’s message as soon as she finished her phone call with a customer. Before the message ended, she was typing the lab’s web address into her browser. Yes, she should have figured Tia’s word was good, but she still had to see for herself.

  Tia was right.

  Lisa sat for a long moment, trying to figure out what that meant. What came next? Then the bell rang over the door, she looked up, put on an automatic smile and took care of the customers.

  Through the final hour of work, end-of-day tasks, and the return trip home, Lisa’s mind kept returning to the test results.

  Her mom was already upset about the mere suggestion that there was a mix-up in the hospital. How would Lisa explain the test? And did it really matter? Besides the obvious point that she would never suffer from Rose’s genetic disorder, that she wouldn’t have to worry about passing it along to any children she might someday have, how did this affect Lisa? Did she want to get to know Tia’s family? The two women had shared a number of memories over email while they waited and Lisa thought she might want to meet them, at least. Even if only out of curiosity.

  By the time she arrived home, she knew she had to tell Rose. That night. Whatever else happened, her mom deserved to know. Lisa didn’t know how to bring it up again.

  She entered her apartment, dropped her keys in the ceramic dish by the front door, hung her purse on the hook behind the door, and slid her coat over it. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, then called Tia back.

  The phone rang twice before Tia answered, “Hey, Lisa. Did you get my message?”

  “Yeah, I went online and checked it out for myself.” She opened the refrigerator door and looked for something dinnerish. Half a carton of eggs, the last cup of milk, some butter, mayo and ketchup glared back at her. “I’m not really sure how I feel about it now that I know.”

  “I understand. I stared at the results for way longer than I needed to, trying to make myself believe they were true when I was tested. Have you told your mom yet?”

  Lisa shifted the mayo to the side and found a small chunk of semi-dried cheddar. It would do. “Not yet. I’ll have to soon. I have no idea what to say. She got upset when I talked about it before and,” she paused, sucked in a breath in an effort to keep herself steady. “I can’t stand the thought of hurting her.”

  “I know. I still have to tell my mom that we did the DNA test. She’s not going to be happy. I mean, I think she’ll adjust. You’re in retail, after all, and she sure does love to shop.” There was a smile in her voice, a teasing edge to it.

  “And my mom always loved cooking.” Lisa shredded the cheese into a bowl. “She despaired that I’d ever learn to do anything more complicated than spaghetti or scrambled eggs.” She hadn’t gotten much past that, so her mom’s fears had come true.

  “Then maybe she’ll accept it pretty well after all,” Tia joked. There was a pause, then she continued, “Danny’s coming over in a few minutes. I’m going to have him watch the girls for a while so I can visit Dad. He didn’t want the password for the website. Said he’d rather have me tell him right out then go crazy checking it for himself.”

  “Maybe I should have done that too.” Lisa set aside the cheese and cracked two eggs into a bowl. She really should do some shopping tonight. Sandwiches were easy to fix, but she was out of bread and a little variety was good. But that was for after she talked to her mom. “Do you feel as lost and confused as I do?”

  “Oh, yeah. Does it sound bad to say that I’m glad if someone has to go through this with me, that it’s you? Not that I would have wished this mess on you, but . . . ”

  Lisa understood but didn’t want to think about it. She redirected the conversation. “Didn’t you say there was another woman you thought it might be?”

  “Yes, and Claire was nice, very nice, but . . . okay, honesty here, she was so excited about the possibility that it might be her, that I was a bit overwhelmed and a lot intimidated. And it made me wonder what her family was really like if she was so anxious to find a different one. “

  “I wish my family had been bigger; sisters and brothers and plenty of cousins around. I miss my dad. He and I were so close.” Lisa had to swallow back the pain that still rose when she thought of her father. His death had been devastating.

  “You’ll have to tell me all about him. Samantha!” Tia sighed. “Sorry, my girls are going wild. I guess I need to corral them. Let me know how it goes with your mom and we’ll see how you feel about it all in another day or two.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa said goodbye and slid the food from the pan and onto a plate. She had no idea how she was going to tell her mom.

  * * *

  “Hi, Mom,” Lisa entered her mother’s room at the nursing home. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Sweetheart! I’m fine. What brings you by tonight?”

  “You.” Lisa took the chair beside the bed. “I haven’t been by for a few days.”

  Rose studied Lisa over her bifocals. “Something’s on your mind. You’re fidgeting with your purse strap.”

  Lisa stopped herself and set the purse on the floor. “You’re right, of course.” She licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry, and wished she’d brought along a drink.

  “Well, that’s better. Do you like my hair, Vera permed it when she was in a couple days ago.”

  This was sounding more than a little familiar. Not a good sign. “You remember me telling you about Tia Riverton coming to talk to me?”

  “Tia Riverton?” She tapped her lips with a fingertip. “Is that the woman from the news cooking show?” Rose’s lips puckered in thought. “When did that happen?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. She came into the store.” Lisa wet her lips. Rose didn’t remember. What did she say? Could she stand going through all of that again?

  “How nice.” Her mother beamed at her. “I hope she spent a lot. Those TV people make so much money.”

  “She picked up something for her daughter.” Though she wished it were different, Lisa decided to keep the truth to herself. The emotional turmoil of going through the disclosure of their biological relationship again was more than she could face. Since there was no guarantee Rose would remember this time, either, it would be easier to keep it a secret—even if it did make her heart hurt. “She’s really nice. Maybe I’ll bring her by to meet you some time.”

  “Oh, I’d like that, dear. Now,” she set a hand on Lisa’s arm, “tell me, are you dating anyone special?”

  Lisa forced herself to smile and sat back in her seat to chat.

  * * *

  Spreading the news was far easier for Tia. Ron accepted the results with no fuss. “All right, let me know if she wants to meet me. I am kind of curious about her.”

  Wes’s response was similar, though he showed a little more interest in meeting Lisa than Ron had. The big issue was telling Mona.

  “What do you mean you found her?” Mona asked when Tia announced that she’d located Lisa. “How do you know it’s her?”

  Tia shifted her hot cocoa from one hand to the other on the tabletop of the coffee shop where she’d met her mom. “She did a DNA test with dad. She’s the one.”

  Hurt filled Mona’s face. “You didn’t tell me? You didn’t have me take the test? Why not? Am I not good enough?”

  Though Tia had expec
ted this to be a difficult meeting, she had hoped she was wrong. “I know how stressful it was for you when you took the DNA test for me, Mom. Since only one of you needed to match to be sure, I didn’t want to put you through that again. Dad’s nerves always were a little less fragile than yours.” This was mostly just soothing nonsense, of course. Mona could handle anything. She was just a lot more difficult to deal with when upset.

  “That’s true. I am fragile.” She dabbed a finger at each eye, as if catching imaginary tears before they could fall and ruin her makeup. “Though I wish you had told me about the tests, I suppose it was for the best. But tell me about this Lisa.”

  There was only so much Tia could say, largely because she didn’t want to tell tales about Lisa without her permission. She filled in some of the basic details and discussed her impressions from their first meeting.

  Mona listened attentively, then pulled out a paper from her purse. “Now, give me her phone number so I can call her. I have a million questions to ask and you don’t seem to have any of the good answers. If she’s my other daughter, then I need to get to know her.”

  Despite the demands, Tia refused to pass on Lisa’s contact information. She wasn’t going to let he mother push Lisa into meeting or talking if she wasn’t ready. She promised to have Lisa contact Mona when she was ready.

  A few days passed and Tia wished Lisa would contact her to let her know how things had gone with Rose.

  Forty

  The call to the home where a woman had been beaten made Danny nervous, as such calls often did. The police arrived on scene and went in first to verify that the home was safe, then the firefighters and paramedics went in with their equipment. Some of the guys grumbled that they had to wait to see the patient, especially since it sounded as if the injuries were serious, but Danny had no intention of flouting protocol. They couldn’t help the patient if they had to fight off an attacker.

  They found a woman in her forties with spiky apple-red hair, and multiple cuts and bruises on her face. Her eye was already swelling shut and she hugged her right arm to her, which had a disfigurement in the lower half, indicating a break. “Hey, my name is Danny, can you tell me where you hurt the worst?” he asked as he knelt by the woman’s side.

  “My arm, my stomach.” She didn’t mention her face, so the abdominal pain must have been severe.

  Danny did a quick head-to-toe assessment, finding a flail chest indicating broken ribs on the right side, abdominal pain, though there was no swelling there yet, and bruises all along the woman’s back and shoulders in addition to the things he saw when he first walked in. James started an IV while Danny did the assessment and one of the other guys took the woman’s blood pressure on her lower leg, since they couldn’t do anything with the broken arm. A fourth guy prepared splinting equipment and they got ready to load her on the gurney.

  When Danny heard the back door open behind him, he turned away from the patient to see who it was. A tall, bald guy in his thirties, covered in tattoos and with a mean smile, grabbed Danny’s shoulder and twisted him back. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from her.” Then he pulled back his other arm and popped Danny in the face with his fist.

  The patient screamed, one of the firefighters called out a warning a little too late, and pain blossomed on Danny’s cheek.

  The impact was like running into a brick wall and Danny saw his vision go dark for a moment before the light started to creep back. He felt the hand on his shoulder move away as some of the guys grabbed the attacker and pulled him off. There was noise and commotion, but when Danny’s vision returned, he saw one officer sitting on the attacker and cuffing him, reciting the Miranda rights.

  “You okay?” James asked from the other side of the patient. “You’ve got a gash.”

  Danny gingerly touched his cheek and his fingers came back wet with blood. He didn’t think he’d pass out, so he brushed James’ worry off. “I’ll live. Let’s get out to the rig.”

  In three minutes they had the patient loaded and headed for the ambulance. As Danny climbed into the back with the patient, he thought if Tia had been looking an excuse to worry about him getting hurt on the job, this should do it for her. He’d been lucky the guy hadn’t used a knife instead of his fist.

  That was not a pleasant thought.

  When they arrived at the hospital, the duty nurse took one look at Danny, grabbed his arm and led him to another exam room. “What happened to you?”

  “I’m fine. I just ran into a guy’s fist.” Danny tried to smile her concern away, but it hurt the cut on his cheek.

  “I figured that out. What were you doing fighting?’

  “I wasn’t fighting. I got sucker punched.” He winced as the nurse used an alcohol wipe to dab at his cheek. It stung white hot. “Really, I can clean that up back at the station.”

  “You could, but you won’t. The guy must have been wearing a ring; you’ve got a cut on your cheek. It’s going to need stitches.”

  “James mentioned it, but it didn’t bleed much, so I didn’t worry about it.” He could feel the cheek swelling and his face still throbbed.

  “Numbness is your friend right now.” She grabbed a pen light and checked his eyes. “Concussion, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Can’t be. I’m fine.” But now the adrenaline from the call was wearing off, he felt a tad woozy.

  “You’re not fine, Mr. Macho.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Why is it the paramedics think they’re invincible?”

  Danny sighed. No way would the captain let him go back to work today.

  When Stu stuck his head into the room and got the update from the nurse, he confirmed Danny’s fears. “Take the rest of the shift off. James already called your girlfriend to pick you up.”

  Danny eyed the doctor as he entered, picked up the syringe with lidocaine in it to numb his cheek. “Great. Perfect. I love freaking her out.” He closed his eyes as the doctor drew closer with the needle. It was one thing to put an IV in someone else’s vein; it was something else entirely to have someone sticking one in your cheek. Still, he gritted his teeth and put up with the quick sting. It was nothing compared to what he would endure if Tia couldn’t handle his injury.

  * * *

  Tia grimaced as she pulled to a stop in the hospital parking lot. James hadn’t given her many details, just that Danny was going to be okay, but he was attacked on a call and was being treated. The thought that he could have been shot, could be dead or seriously injured had made her heart clench. She’d called Nichole to sit with the girls, who were already in bed.

  She crossed the parking lot in long strides, anxious to see Danny for herself, to know he was all right. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like without him, how she would have coped these past months without his support and listening ear. This had been a revelation, though she’d been telling herself that the love she’d felt creeping closer wasn’t that strong, that she could still back away.

  Now knew she couldn’t.

  The ER was busy, but the doctor Tia and Danny had spoken with months earlier stood at the counter.

  “Hi,” Tia came to a stop a few feet from the doctor. “I’m here to pick up Danny Tullis.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember you. Danny’s in room four.” She gestured down the hall. “Go on down. He should be ready to leave soon.”

  “Thanks.” Tia turned, sucked in a breath to steal herself for anything and strode into the room.

  Danny lay on the bed, a bruise growing on his cheek, a set of stitches taped up across the cheekbone. His eyes were closed, his face a bit paler than usual—or was that her imagination? She wasn’t sure. Her fingers trembling, she reached out and slid her hand into his upturned palm.

  His eyes flashed open and a smile spread across his face.

  “Hey, there,” she said, reassured by his smile. “James called me. He didn’t tell me you’d have a shiner. Any other injuries?” She fought to keep her voice light and teasing, pushing back the wo
rries that rose inside her when she thought of him getting hurt at work.

  “Just my pride. The guy sucker punched me.” He sounded far more put out that he hadn’t seen it coming than over the fact that he was hurt.

  She reached out, ran her thumb along his jaw, then leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to his bruise. “I’m told kissing things make them better.”

  “In that case, I hurt right here.” He tapped his lips.

  She smiled, bussed her mouth over his, and pulled back to look at him again, playing with his hair with her free hand.

  “I actually hoped for a little more than that.” He gave her an exaggerated look of disappointment.

  “Well, if they hurt, I didn’t want to make them worse.”

  “Your kiss helped; I think another one would make a big difference.”

  She laughed, loving this man more every minute. “You’re such a guy.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He took her hand from his hair and pressed a kiss to her palm.

  Tingles spread up her spine and her heart flopped over. “How long until they cut you loose?”

  “Should be soon.”

  A woman in green scrubs walked in. “Soon means now. If I can get a signature here,” she handed a clipboard to Danny.

  He took it, signed. “I didn’t check myself into the ER, you know. Someone dragged me into here and whipped me into submission. I think I deserve a discount.”

  “Don’t worry; the department is picking it up.” She waved her free hand. “Wounded in the line of duty and all that.”

  He brightened. “Do I get paid disability?”

  The woman laughed. “Dream on. Unless your concussion is much worse than we expect, you’ll be good to go by the time your next shift starts. More or less.”

  “More or less?” Tia asked, concerned.

  The nurse turned to Tia. “There are sometimes residual problems from concussion that last for months, but his isn’t bad, so they would be mild and short-lived. Don’t worry about it.” She glanced back at Danny, though she continued to speak to Tia. “You can take Prince Charming home, now. He shouldn’t be alone tonight. Someone needs to check on him every couple of hours.”

 

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