Could I Have This Dance?

by Harry Kraus

  “I’d better not get used to this,” she said. “Next month I’ve got to baby-sit the open-heart patients. I hear those interns just live in the ICU.”

  They walked in silence back toward the parking lot, where Claire threw her stuff into the backseat of her aging Toyota. “Thanks for inviting me to the pier.”

  He nodded with nonchalance. “Have fun tomorrow. Friday nights always serve up something special for the general surgeons.”

  “I can hardly wait.” She said it with sarcasm toward Brett’s back as he turned to leave, but smiled to herself because she knew it was true.

  Claire pulled into her driveway, surprised by the yellow cab parked at the curb in front of her house. What was going on?

  She watched as the cabbie immediately hopped out and went around to the passenger door, where he began assisting an elderly woman onto her feet.

  Claire walked up, squinting. “Grandma?”

  “Good evening, Claire. I was beginning to think I’d be spending the night in this gentleman’s cab. He’s had the meter running for an hour.” She fumbled with her purse and handed the gentleman a hundred-dollar bill. She waved her hand. “Keep it. You’ve been a good listener.”

  “Thank you, Ms. McCall,” he said, handing her a little white card. “Call this number when you want to go back to the airport. I’ll come right out.” He set her suitcase on the street and closed the trunk, then insisted on carrying it into the house.

  “What are you doing here?” Claire was incredulous. This was only the first week of internship, and she was on her second drop-in guest from out of town.

  “Isn’t an old woman welcome at her granddaughter’s?” She embraced Claire with a stiff hug.

  “Of course, Grandma. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting me, either. But we’ve got some things to discuss. I called you yesterday and left a message.”

  “Grandma, I spent the night at the hospital. I only just heard your message today.”

  “And I suppose I wasn’t available to take your call, since I was on my way.”

  Claire smiled with relief. She doesn’t know I didn’t try to call.

  “I am on my way to visit my cousin Hilda on Martha’s Vineyard. It’s no extra effort to stop here.” She waved her hand in the air as if to downplay the unusual nature of her visit. She stepped away and studied Claire for a moment.

  She was immediately self-conscious of her attire. Her short shorts were barely covered by the jersey she wore over her bathing suit. “I was off for the afternoon. I went to the beach to study.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth reached for Claire’s hand and smiled at the ring on her finger. “John Cerelli came through, did he?”

  Claire nodded.

  “Strong family. I know his father.” Her grandmother was immediately serious again. “Engagement is a tumultuous time for a young woman.” She paused, then started up the brick steps past the smiling cab driver.

  The old woman paused. “A tumultuous time indeed. I ought to know. I did it several times myself,” she said, her face now locked on Claire’s. “I suppose that’s why I’m here, in a way. There are some things it’s time for you to hear.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elizabeth inspected Claire’s barren kitchen and immediately offered to buy pizza. “Certainly there’s a delivery place available.”

  Claire walked toward the stairs. “The only place I’ve used is Luigi’s. It’s only two blocks from here. The number is on the refrigerator magnet.”

  “Got it,” she called.

  “Order whatever you want. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

  Claire showered, her mind busy wondering just what was important enough to prompt this sudden visit from Elizabeth.

  Once she emerged, she found the table set and the pizza on the counter. She lifted the lid, taking in the wonderful aroma of cheese and pepperoni. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

  “He only knocked.”

  “Was it the boy with a nose ring?”

  “Yes,” she said, shaking her head. “Have you ever seen the cooks?”

  “I’ve never been in the place. It’s probably better not to know.” Claire giggled. “I always get takeout.”

  The two sat facing each other at the kitchen table. In spite of Claire’s probing, Elizabeth would only make polite superficial conversation until she’d finished a generous slice of pizza. “It’s never proper to engage in serious conversation until after eating. It’s contrary to natural digestive processes.” She gave her a look which implied that certainly Claire, being a medical doctor, should know such things.

  Claire scrutinized her grandmother’s face for clues. It had to be either money, the will, her own health, or Wally. Nothing else could have prompted such a trip.

  Elizabeth pushed away her plate. “I want to talk to you about your father.”

  Claire nodded. “I thought so.”

  “That boy’s been a heaviness on my heart for years, you know that. I’ve let him go his way. Since he was your age, I haven’t had any control over him.”

  “He’s a man, Grandma. He’s made his own decisions.”

  “Certainly.” She nodded. “We haven’t been close, not for years, but your grandfather’s funeral and your graduation forced us together again, and has started me thinking, wondering about a few things.”

  Claire fidgeted with her fork and fought the urge to interrupt.

  “I know how you feel about the Stoney Creek curse. Your reaction at graduation was perfectly clear.” She paused. “But when you called me the other night and asked me about your father, I, well, I just haven’t been able to rest, thinking about this whole thing. You wanted to know if your father was adopted.”

  Claire nodded.

  “What you really wanted to know was whether John McCall was Wally’s real father.” Elizabeth twisted the napkin in her hand.

  Claire winced. Her mother was right. She shouldn’t have brought this up to Elizabeth. She’d offended her and now her grandmother was upset. “Grandma, the last thing I wanted was to offend—”

  “Let me finish, Claire. You didn’t offend me.”

  “I’m sorry, Grandma, I—”

  Elizabeth held up her hand. “I’m not done. I’m not stupid just because I’m old. I realized what you were worried about. You wanted to be sure that there wasn’t some horrible inheritable disease that could affect you.”

  Claire nodded. Grandma had nailed it on the head.

  “Well, I am concerned, too. But in a different way. I believe that the actions of one generation can affect subsequent ones.” She halted. “God visits the sins of one man down to the third and fourth generation.”

  “Grandma, God forgives—”

  “I want you to hear me, child. I’ve heard about generational curses on inspirational TV.”

  Claire looked away and rolled her eyes.

  “A curse can be passed from generation to generation, Claire.”

  “Okay, Grandma. What does this have to do with me?”

  “First, I need your word. This has to stay between us, okay? You’re a doctor now. You should know about confidentiality.”

  “Of course I do.” What could be so important?

  Elizabeth’s hand trembled. “I was once engaged to a man other than your grandfather. I loved him dearly, but my parents never approved. I was so young, only in high school. Eventually, I gave in to my father’s demand that I break the engagement and see others. I started dating your grandfather, and my parents were thrilled. The McCalls were the richest family in the valley.” She spoke slowly. “I learned to love him, too, and my mother convinced me that my life would be so much easier as a McCall.”

  Claire shifted uncomfortably. Talking about old boyfriends wasn’t normally something a girl did with her grandmother.

  “My first boyfriend would never give up. He came to me the night before I married your grandfather. He made one last effort at persuading me to cancel my plan
s. When I refused him, he flew into a jealous rage and—” She buried her face in her hands. Her voice broke. “He raped me, Claire.”

  Claire reached for her grandmother’s hand. “Grandma, I’m so sorry.”

  Elizabeth lifted her head. “It’s okay, Claire, it was a long time ago.” Her eyes searched Claire’s. “I’ve never shared this with anyone, not even your grandfather.”

  “But why? Why not share your pain? The man should have been punished.”

  “You don’t understand, Claire. In those days women prided themselves in going to the marriage bed pure. I wanted to be a virgin for your grandfather. I know he was for me.”

  Claire felt a stab of remorse, then focused on her grandmother’s words.

  “I was afraid if he knew, well … I was afraid he wouldn’t want me.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault. It was rape. You said he forced you.”

  “I know.” She hesitated. “But in my heart, I wondered. I kissed him that night, Claire. I meant it as a good-bye, but I ignited a passion that wouldn’t be stopped. He forced me into the barn. I tried to stop him, but I never screamed out. I should have yelled for help, but I never did.”

  “Grandma, you can’t blame yourself. You never intended for him to treat you like he did.” Claire gripped her hand. “I’ve seen rape victims before, Grandma. There’s often guilt. Women blame themselves. It’s a common reaction, Grandma, but that doesn’t lessen the crime he committed.”

  Elizabeth sniffed and forced a smile. “Thank you, Claire, but I didn’t come here to pour out my problems to get your counsel.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I think this man, Steve Hudson, is Wally’s biological father. I’ve never had blood proof, but over the years, I’ve had my suspicions. And when I saw your father during your graduation, it all came pouring back. Your father stumbles around just like Steve Hudson did before he died.” She sighed heavily. “Well, I knew about the rumors about the Stoney Creek curse. They abounded in Steve’s family. His grandfather was the one who built the still.”

  “Harold Morris?”

  “The same. And legend has it that he stumbled around and went crazy because of a curse placed by Eleazor Potts.”

  Claire nodded. She knew the rumor.

  “I became convinced that your father must be under the same curse, either because he drank the still’s liquor, or because he was in line for a generational curse.”

  “So why tell me now?” Claire shifted uncomfortably, aware of a gnawing anxiety about her father’s parentage.

  “Because you wanted to know about Wally’s father. You were concerned about an inheritable disease. And I was concerned about a possible generational curse.” She lifted her hands. “But I didn’t think this disease you mentioned, this … Harrington’s—”

  “Huntington’s,” Claire corrected, her mouth suddenly dry. If Daddy’s father wasn’t Grandpa, then … The thought seemed to stick. She couldn’t allow herself to continue.

  “Huntington’s disease, yes. Well, I didn’t think it was possible that you could be right because I didn’t think Steve’s parents had any diseases like that.”

  “They did? One of his parents had Huntington’s disease?”

  She shook her head. “No. It certainly doesn’t sound like it, but until I talked to Steve’s brother, I was under the false understanding that I knew who Steve’s real mother was. Evidently, the woman I knew as Steve’s mother, who lived until a ripe old age, wasn’t his real mother at all. His real mother died in childbirth. Steve lived, but his mother suffered a fatal hemorrhage.”

  “So his real mother was …”

  “Evangeline Morris.”

  Claire was putting this together. “And Evangeline Morris’s father was Harold, who was one of the two brothers that ran the secret still.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, the way I understand it, assuming Steve really was Wally’s father, sins of the father can be punished up to the third and fourth generation. So if you count Harold’s daughter as the first generation, Steve would be the second, Wally the third, and …” She paused. “You would be the fourth, so I thought you needed to know.”

  “Grandma, that’s crazy. I’m not going to be cursed because of something Harold Morris did. That’s so, well, so Old Testament.”

  “It’s in the Bible, Claire.”

  “You came up here to warn me that I might be in line for the Stoney Creek curse?”

  “I’m not crazy, Claire. This may sound upsetting to a scientific mind, but I’m convinced our sins have long-ranging ramifications to our children, and beyond. What I’m not sure about is what triggers the curse. I thought for a long time that it was the drinking that actually brought it on, that a person in line for inheritance of the curse may be able to dodge it by avoiding the devil’s drink. I knew Steve’s mother was a teetotaler, and she had no signs of any problems. But then when I learned that Steve’s mother was a different woman altogether, well, I feared again that it may strike every generation regardless of the alcohol. But maybe if we pray, or take you to a priest perhaps, we can negate the curse’s power.”

  “This isn’t making sense, Grandma. Was Evangeline Morris affected?”

  “I’ve thought about that. She didn’t lose her mind, or stumble about like your father and Steve, but she did die a horrible death at a young age. It may be that her death was the way the curse was manifested. Perhaps if she’d have lived a bit longer, she would have lost control of her legs and arms as well.”

  “I am not believing this conversation.” Claire stood and began to pace. Her worst fears, the very ones she’d been able to dismiss as improbable, were back, knotting her stomach into a tight fist.

  “And I can’t believe that you wouldn’t be concerned.”

  “Grandma, everything you’ve told me concerns me. In fact, it terrifies me, but not because I’m scared of some mysterious curse.” She walked to her desk and lifted a piece of computer paper from the printer. “In fact, you may have just stumbled on a solution to the mystery that’s plagued our little town for generations.”

  “I know I have. But it’s no mystery.”

  “Look, Grandma. Just consider the possibility that the manifestations of this curse, as you call it, are really symptoms of an inherited disease, a disease which doesn’t manifest itself until midlife, and causes a deterioration of mental capacity as well as slurring of speech and an inability to control the muscles, making them appear intoxicated, and causing strange movements that some have even described as looking like a dance.”

  Her grandmother tapped her fingers on the table.

  “Just look here.” She wrote down Harold Morris’s name at the top of the page. “Harold is here. He stumbles around town, loses his mind, and commits suicide.” She drew a line down from his name and wrote Evangeline. “Evangeline Morris also has the gene, but since the disease isn’t manifested until midlife, she never shows any sign of the disease, and dies before anyone realized she had it.” She drew a line down and wrote Steve. “But she passed the gene to Steve, and—By the way, how did he die?”

  “He committed suicide, Claire.”

  Claire nodded. “So he had the disease too. You said yourself he stumbled around like Daddy.”

  “Walked just like him.”

  Claire drew a line to her father’s name and drew three lines from Wally’s to Clay, Claire, and Margo. “Daddy gets the disease, but no one picks up on it because he’s always been a drunk. All of his symptoms are attributed to alcohol intoxication or withdrawal, depending on whether he’s bingeing or dry.”

  “And there is a disease like you’re describing, I take it?”

  “Yes!” Claire threw up her hands. “Huntington’s disease, the disease of my patient in the ER that I told you about.”

  Elizabeth confirmed her memory of the conversation with a nod.

  “Grandma, why did you ask me on the phone whether Huntington’s disease could skip generations?”

  �
��Because I wanted to be sure that my theory was the correct one, not yours. I knew, or at least thought I knew, that there was no evidence of Huntington’s in Steve’s parents. But when I talked to Steve’s brother, and found out about Steve’s real mother, it blew my little theory.”

  “And, unfortunately, it made mine a bit more plausible.”

  “Now look, Claire, you don’t really know if any of this is right.”

  Claire began clearing the dishes, placing them in the sink. “This can’t be happening to me.” She shook her head. “I’m too tired to even sort this out. I didn’t sleep last night, and I’ve got to be on my feet again at five tomorrow morning.”

  “Claire, we’ll chat again tomorrow over supper. I’ll take you out.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be in the hospital. I won’t be home again until Saturday.”

  “Goodness me. They shouldn’t work you like that.”

  Claire was too weary to explain the mentality of surgery training. “I know, Grandma, but they do.”

  “I’m supposed to be in Martha’s Vineyard by then.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Grandma. You’ll just have to entertain yourself. I’m afraid my schedule as an intern won’t allow me to be much of a host.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m used to taking care of myself. It’s you I’m concerned about. I came up here to warn you about the future, hoping we could plan some intervention to change it. But all I’ve done is upset you.”

  Claire yawned. “I’ll be okay, Grandma. I just need to sort things out in my head, work out a way to deal with this new information, that’s all.”

  She paused. “I need Daddy to get a blood test. A genetic test for the Huntington’s gene.

  Her grandmother approached and gripped Claire’s arm. “Claire, I’m not sure it’s best if Wally knew this information. It might devastate him to learn he may not be a blood McCall.”

  “Grandma, isn’t it more important that he learn the truth?”

  “Not if the truth is destructive.”

  Claire moved away and placed the leftover pieces of pizza into a Tupperware container.