Franklin explained that the cause is still unknown, but there might be a genetic factor. He … he said that women are more likely to get it and that statistically my chances are higher because Mom had it.”
Troy could barely function, barely think. He’d seen firsthand what Sandy had endured. Every day had presented new challenges. Every month Sandy had lost more ground. And while she faced it all with a hopeful spirit, in the end the disease had claimed her life. The thought of his only child going through that was more than Troy could tolerate.
“How am I supposed to tell Craig this?” Megan asked, weeping openly now.
Troy couldn’t answer her.
“Mom miscarried babies, too, didn’t she?”
Still unable to find his voice, Troy nodded.
“I think I’d rather be dead than go through what Mom did,” Megan said in a low voice.
“No!” Troy jumped to his feet. “Don’t talk like that!” He wasn’t easily frightened, but hearing Megan even suggest she’d rather be dead filled him with shock and fear.
His daughter’s weeping grew louder, and Troy thought his heart would break.
“When will you be tested?” he asked.
“Next week. The doctor’s scheduled an MRI, which he said is the most definitive means of making a diagnosis. He told me there’s also a good chance I don’t have it.” She shredded the tissue in her hands. “But, Daddy, what if …”
Troy couldn’t deal with this. He couldn’t accept that Megan, his only child, might have the same disease as Sandy.
Megan tried again. “What if I do have MS?” She tensed as she spoke the words. “The minute Dr. Franklin said I should be tested, certain things started to add up in my mind.”
“What things?” Megan had always had an active imagination, and she could have built all of this up, exaggerated symptoms. It made sense. She’d recently lost her mother and miscarried her first child. Little wonder she was distraught.
Megan went very quiet, as if formulating the best way to explain. “My eyes have been bothering me,” she said.
A chill raced down Troy’s spine. Shortly before they were married, Sandy had gone through a brief spell during which her eyes had given her trouble. The symptoms had disappeared and they’d both attributed it to stress. Only later did they learn that problems like double vision could be an early sign of the disease. Of course, that’d been nearly forty years ago, when much less was known about multiple sclerosis or its treatment.
“We’ll get through this,” Troy assured his daughter. “We will,” he said fervently. “You and Craig and I.”
She looked up at him with anxious eyes, and he could see how much she wanted to believe him.
Troy wanted to believe it, too.
Before Megan left, they hugged for a long time. Later he noticed that his shirt was damp with her tears.
The possibility—no matter how slight—of Megan’s having MS meant that his daughter needed him, and he had to be there for her, the same way he’d been there for Sandy. It meant Troy would have to make changes in his life, and the biggest change involved his relationship with Faith.
Alone in his office he gazed, unseeing, out the window for an hour, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was in shock, and yet he felt that his thinking was completely clear. Before he could back down, he reached for his cell phone.
Faith answered right away. “Troy! What a pleasant surprise.” Generally, he didn’t call in the middle of the day.
Her joy was like a knife piercing his heart. “Hello, Faith.” Closing his eyes, Troy could hardly force himself to speak. “I won’t be able to see you tonight,” he finally said.
“Oh, Troy, I’m sorry to hear that.” Her disappointment made his own that much sharper. But any relationship with him would be filled with broken dates and frustration. Megan had to be his priority. Being sheriff made constant demands on his time, as well. It wasn’t fair to expect Faith to wait in the background or to settle for the occasional stolen minutes he could offer.
“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled.
“I know you’d never cancel a date for any frivolous reason.”
He didn’t respond.
“I guess I’ll have to tell you my news over the phone,” she said, “instead of waiting for this evening.”
She remained irritatingly cheerful. “What news?” he asked.
“I would’ve said something sooner, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I sold my house!”
This was the last thing Troy wanted to hear. “Oh,” he said flatly. He had no idea how he’d cope with seeing Faith in town—on the streets, in the stores, everywhere.
If she heard the reluctance in his voice, Faith ignored it. “I should’ve done this before now. It was ridiculous to live in such a huge place all by myself.”
Troy said nothing.
“My son’s thrilled,” she went on to tell him. “Scottie’s looking for a house for me. At least you and I won’t be spending all our time on the road now,” she added with a laugh.
“Faith, listen, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve decided it might not be wise to continue seeing each other.” How he managed to get the words out, he didn’t know. His heart screamed that he should stop. That he should withdraw the words, pretend he’d never said them.
He couldn’t.
Bracing his hand against his forehead, he leaned his elbow on the desk.
A short pause followed his announcement.
“Have I done something to upset you?” Faith asked softly. If her joy had irritated him earlier, her pain left him raw.
“No.”
“Then can I ask why you’ve made this decision?”
He thought about that, too, and how unjust he was being. “No.”
She took a moment to absorb his remark. “I’m not a teenage girl anymore, Troy. Our relationship went wrong all those years ago through no fault of ours. I don’t want it to happen again. Now, please tell me what’s wrong. I deserve to know that much.”
She did, and he had to tell her. “It’s Megan.”
“Your daughter …”
“My daughter might have MS.”
Faith gasped. “Oh, Troy. I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve never told her about you and I can’t now.”
“No, I don’t suppose you can,” she agreed
