Just Destiny (29 page)

“O-h, Mom.” Jenny gathered her close in a tight hug, made all the tighter in anticipation of her mother’s negative reaction. Slowly she released her. “Hold that thought, ’cause I’m involved in some litigation that’s going to get nasty and very public in a couple of months when we go to trial. I just want you and Dad to be prepared.”

Her mother stiffened. “It’s the estate, isn’t it? Judith’s contesting Gabe’s will.”

Jenny smiled at her fierce tone and shook her head. “No, Judith’s been surprisingly good. In fact, she supports me in this. It’s about our baby. I was five weeks pregnant when we went to Saugatuck…and then I miscarried.”

Her mom put an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“That weekend, I lost not only Gabe but our baby too. I felt utterly alone and cheated. But as it turns out, the doctors were able to save and freeze Gabe’s sperm for me, so I can be artificially inseminated. I may have lost Gabe, but at least I can still have our baby.”

“After he’s dead? That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve heard of test tube babies and cloning, but this is…different.”

Relief swept through her that her mother hadn’t told her she was crazy. “Yeah. It’s unusual, which is why the press will be all over the trial. There’ve only been a handful of women in similar situations.”

“It’s not illegal is it?”

“No, but George is trying to say it is. He’s furious that I donated Gabe’s organs and he couldn’t stop it. So he’s taking me to court to keep me from using Gabe’s sperm. He’s just being spiteful.”

Jenny watched Mom carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. For much of her life, or so it seemed, they’d been at odds. She should be used to disappointing her mother and doing without her encouragement, but apparently she was more of an optimist than she’d ever known, because she really wanted her mom’s approval this time.

“It’s really none of his business,” Mom finally announced.

“What?”

“It’s none of his business.” Mom raised her chin defiantly. “You should go for it.”

Eyes wide, Jenny stared. “Really?”

“Of course. Gabe was a wonderful man and you’ll make a wonderful mother. A baby from the two of you couldn’t help but be a little angel. Go for it.”

“Sooo…you don’t think it’s weird to have Gabe’s baby after he’s dead?”

“Of course it’s weird. But you’ve the means to support this child. If you’re sure that’s what you want, then you should do it.”

“I was sure you’d think I’m crazy.”

“Your father might. Men are squeamish when it comes to their testicles and such. Don’t be disappointed if it takes him a while to come around.”

Dad might be a problem? What a twist that’d be. Maybe she had a point with it being a squeamish thing. Judith, her mom, Amy the organ donor lady, they all got it. But George had been appalled and Steve pensive…almost confused.

“You know, you might be right. It must be a male thing. Steve’s been against this from the beginning.”

“Is he representing you?”

“No—he flat-out refused, but he found me an attorney.” A female attorney. Hmm, interesting. “He’s been sweet actually. Although he’s trying, he just doesn’t get it. I think you’re right, Mom. It must be a testosterone thing.”

“Well of course it is.” She patted her hand. “Now let’s finish up here and you can go home and tell your father.”

“Do we have to?” she joked.

“Yes.”

“Can’t you tell him for me?”

“Not a chance. He was traumatized enough when I suggested he get a vasectomy.” She chuckled. “Nope, this is your baby—literally.”

* * *

The winter months passed quickly as Jenny kept herself busy fitting her depositions and strategy meetings with Helen around work. She and Steve avoided playing any games—or when they played Euchre with Alex and a friend, they made sure to be on the same team.

Steve slowly returned to his cheerful self but declined her offer to set him up. Maybe she’d get him a subscription to Match.com for his birthday if he still wasn’t dating by then. She’d heard good things about that company.

They joined a weekly tennis clinic at Steve’s club, Wimbledon, to keep in shape and burn off some nervous energy. Occasionally they played tennis at the Hunt Club, but mostly they played at his club. She was thinking about dropping the Hunt Club membership—without Gabe she hardly ever used it. Jenny approached May with growing trepidation.

The week before the trial, she spent hours being coached by Helen until both felt confident she knew what to expect and could handle any questions thrown her way, no matter how slyly worded.

Friday afternoon Jenny emailed in her last assignment, turned off her laptop and blew out a deep breath. Now, onto cleaning the house and putting boxes of Gabe’s old clothes onto the porch for tomorrow’s Vietnam Vet pick up.

She carefully made her way downstairs with her third box when it was lifted from her arms. Jenny gasped and stumbled back, plunking down hard on the carpeted steps. “Sheez! You scared me.”

“Sorry. I thought you heard me come in.” Steve held out a hand and hauled her to her feet. “You want this on the front porch with the others?”

“Yeah, thanks.” They retrieved another box of Gabe’s clothes from the bedroom and then two boxes of medical books from his study.

“This it?”

Jenny put her hands on her hips and looked around Gabe’s library. “For now. The clothes were easier to go through than his desk. It all looked important and felt so personal that I ended up not getting rid of very much.”

“There’s no rush.”

“I guess. So what brings you here?” Jenny pivoted and headed out of the room. “I’m dying of thirst. Want a soda?”

“Sure.” As they walked past the hall, Steve snatched a manila folder. “Helen wanted me to take a look at the P.I.’s report on George.”

“She had George investigated?”

Steve pulled sheets from the envelope and turned them upright, as he walked. “Hmm. I’m sure George’s attorney had you investigated too.”

Jenny’s head jerked up. “Would they find out about Michael?”

“Doubtful. They’ll be looking at your finances, credit history, work history, stuff like that.” Steve straddled a stool as Jenny poured their drinks.

“So why’d Helen give you the report? Shouldn’t that be confidential?”

“She wanted a second opinion.” Steve pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “This is interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Jenny set Steve’s drink down and craned her neck sideways to read the report.

“George’s charitable deductions.”

“George has charitable deductions? That
is
surprising.”

“Not that. Last year he donated five hundred dollars to the University of Detroit—his alma mater, a thousand to Grosse Pointe Memorial Church…there’re a few other piddly donations…then two thousand to the American Heart Association—”

“His wife, Adele, died of a heart attack.”

“So that makes sense,” he drew out. “But what doesn’t make sense is this last one Helen highlighted.” He raised his head and looked at her. “He gave fifteen thousand to the Huntington’s Disease Association.”

“Thousand?” Jenny reached for the paper. “That must be a mistake.”

Steve handed her the sheet. “No mistake. According to Helen’s note, he’s been donating for more than ten years and has been increasing the donation about a thousand dollars a year.”

Jenny handed him the paper. “What’s Huntington’s Disease? Think he has it?”

“Don’t know. Where’s your laptop?”

Jenny retrieved her Dell and they settled shoulder-to-shoulder to read the Huntington’s Disease Association website.

“It’s fatal. Peak age of onset, thirty-five to fifty with death generally within ten to twenty years of the first symptom. Autosomal dominance inheritance.” Jenny read. “Look at these symptoms.” She pointed at the screen. “Clumsiness, forgetfulness, ticks, jerking, fidgety movements of limbs and body and slight personality changes, then later on lurching, uncontrolled movements. Eating can be tiring, frustrating and messy due to mouth and diaphragm muscles not working properly, so they choke easily.”

“They’re prone to infection, illness, and muscle-wasting.” He pointed at the screen. “Then we get to the behavior issues. Who wouldn’t be irritable, depressed and angry trying to cope with all that?”

“Sounds horrible. Like Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s rolled into one.” Jenny raised an eyebrow to Steve. “George doesn’t have any of these symptoms.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t know, but Judith might.” Jenny pulled out her cell phone, scrolled down her list, and pushed call. “Maybe I can catch her on her way home.”

“Dr. Sterling.”

“Judith, this is Jenny. Who in George’s family might have had Huntington’s Disease?”

“Huntington’s Disease? Nobody I know of, why?”

“George gives huge amounts of money to the Huntington’s Disease Association every year. He has to have a personal connection. Adele died from a heart attack, but could she have had Huntington’s as well?”

“If she did, I never heard of it.”

“What about George’s parents?”

“Huntington’s? Not that I know of.” Judith paused as if thinking. “They both died before I met Gabe; I don’t really know much about the family history. I’m home now; I’ve got to go in for dinner. Sorry I’m no help.”

“No worries. Thanks.” Jenny slid the phone shut. “She didn’t know anything.”

“So we’re back to George’s wife.” Steve mused. “They never had children. Because she couldn’t or because they didn’t want to pass Huntington’s on to their kids?”

“Adele died of a heart attack.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean she didn’t have Huntington’s disease.”

* * *

The day of the trial dawned beautifully. Cloaked in Gabe’s warm bathrobe, Jenny sipped her coffee out on the porch and watched the sun come up. Clear and soft, the orange ball crested Canada, stretching its golden rays across Lake St. Clair to touch and warm her. The beauty and purity reached right to her soul, calming her. It would be a good day.

After showering, Jenny dressed in the navy suit and white linen blouse she and Helen had picked out. She completed the outfit with sensible heels, determined to present herself as a competent, levelheaded young woman. She wove her hair into a neat French braid and lightly applied her makeup. She couldn’t remember taking such care with her appearance since that first date with Gabe.

Jenny rinsed out her coffee mug and went to the bathroom to check her makeup one last time. Gathering her coat and purse, she stood in the middle of the kitchen, wondering what she was forgetting, when Steve knocked and came through the back door. Dressed in a pinstriped suit and a blue silk tie that brought out the color of his eyes, he was the picture of a handsome, successful attorney. “Ready?”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Driving you to court.”

“What about work?”

“I’m on vacation for the next week.”

“A-n-d…” She waited for him to complete her sentence. “You’re in need of entertainment?”

He reached out a hand to her, which Jenny gratefully grasped between sweaty palms, trying not to clutch it like a nervous child even though she felt like one. With a quick flick of his wrist, he checked his watch and ushered Jenny out the door to his waiting convertible.

“Not entertainment; support. My friend is going to court today and I wanted to be there to support her.”

“Ahhhh,” Jenny drew out. “This must be a very good friend if you’re getting dressed up and wasting a whole vacation day on her.”

He held open the car door and his eyes locked on hers. “She’s a very special lady who’s gotten a raw deal.”

Jenny’s chest tightened and her breath quickened. “Lucky lady.”

“Lucky me.”

Mindful of her carefully styled hair, he put the Mustang’s top up. Going home they could enjoy the freedom of the breeze, but he didn’t want her arriving at court all disheveled.

Steve held the courthouse door open for Jenny and ushered her inside. Dozens of people stood around the room, talking in small groups, creating a low buzz. Some intently leafed through documents as if cramming before a final exam while others sat around waiting. Jenny located Alex and Ted up front, sitting behind Helen, separated from her by a half-wall. Helen was seated at a thick wooden table. Her worn leather briefcase rested on the floor next to her chair. She leaned on the wall, talking to Alex, probably reassuring the girl.

Dressed in her favorite black pants and cherry-red cashmere sweater, Alex swiveled her head around, scanning the room. Relief eased her taut face as Jenny approached. She moved over to make room for them, and her sterling bangles knocked loudly on the wood railing. Alex smiled brightly.

Alex scooted close, whispering, “Jenny, Mom’s supposed to be here this morning. They subpoenaed her too, but she had an emergency.”

Helen smiled and patted Alex’s hand. “Don’t worry. They’ll work around her.” She turned to Jenny. “You’ll need to sit up here when we start.”

Alex leaned close until their heads almost touched. “Are you nervous?”

“Scared to death,” Jenny whispered back.

“This is so freakin’ weird,” Ted muttered. He sat with hands clasped between bouncing knees, looking around the room through wide eyes under arched eyebrows.

“Oh look, there’s Grams and Pops,” Alex said.

Gabe’s children had taken to Jenny’s parents, immediately dubbing them Grams and Pops. With Gabe’s parents and his Aunt Adele deceased, Alex and Ted had never really known grandparents besides Judith’s parents. So when they’d married, even though the kids were teenagers, they latched onto Jenny’s mom and dad, and her parents had been delighted with their new step-grandchildren. Her mom might not have been thrilled about their marriage, but she’d been thrilled to be a grandparent. It’d been love at first sight.

Jenny stood to greet her parents while Steve took her place chatting with Ted and Alex. It was strange seeing her parents in court in their Sunday church clothes. Her mother kept fingering her purse strap.