by K Carothers
“What I found out was horrible,” Jenna eventually continued. “My grandfather died of leukemia when my mom was seven. She had an older sister who died from bone cancer a few years later, and not long after that her mother committed suicide. My mom watched her entire family die, just like I did.” She slowly shook her head. “But as far as the cancer goes, it went back for generations, parents watching their children die from it, children losing their parents…I knew there had to be something that was being passed on from generation to generation, some genetic defect. So I did more research, and it turned out there was. It’s called Li-Fraumeni syndrome. When I read about other families with it I couldn’t believe how similar many of their stories were to mine. I got tested for it, and I have the gene too.”
Erin searched her memory, but couldn’t recall anything about that particular syndrome.
“It’s pretty rare,” Jenna said. “It’s a genetic mutation that prevents the body from destroying cancer cells. People who have it are almost always going to get cancer at some point, often as a child. And it’s autosomal dominant, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance of passing it on to your own child—if you survive long enough.”
Erin was stunned. Jenna had known about this for years. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to have to live with it too. So I decided not to tell you until I had to. I knew, I just knew in my soul that I was going to die young. I knew it even years before I got tested. Maybe I felt that way because my mom and brother had died so young, I don’t know. But after I tested positive I decided I would never get married or have children. The odds have not favored my family over the years, and there was no way I was going to watch any child of mine die, or leave them without a mother. Not when I could prevent it.”
“Does Adam know?”
“No. I didn’t want to take the chance that he would change my mind.”
“Oh, Jen,” Erin whispered. “You should have told me.”
“You had enough to deal with already. Plus I know you too well, Erin. You would have had me going in all the time for one test or another. And I would have been under the knife getting everything cut out or chopped off that I didn’t absolutely need. I just couldn’t live like that. I didn’t want either one of us to have to live like that. As it was, I did have regular testing done. I thought I’d end up with breast cancer too, since I’d survived so long. But I had a breast MRI with a mammogram every year, and I was thinking about a mastectomy…I never expected it would be melanoma.”
Erin winced. “I wish I’d stopped acting like an idiot and come here sooner. Maybe if I’d been around more I would have seen it.”
“I don’t think so,” Jenna said. “I had a physical every six months, and my doctor hadn’t noticed it before, either. I probably should have done better skin exams on myself, I suppose. But melanoma isn’t even one of the usual cancers in the syndrome. I just happened to get the one that’s fairly common in general, but rarely occurs in the rare disorder I have. Who would have guessed?” She gave Erin a rueful look, but there was still no anger or resentment in her tone.
Erin smiled grimly. “At least you figured out it was Li-Fraumeni syndrome. It’s awful that your family went for generations without ever knowing why so many of them were getting cancer.”
“My ancestors in Ireland thought it was a curse,” Jenna said. “I found that out when I went to visit. They called it ‘The Curse of the O’Callaghan Men.’ O’Callaghan was my mom’s maiden name. And for my family the syndrome probably started there with my great-great-grandfather. He and both his sons died from what was described as a mysterious illness that caused them to slowly waste away. I’m sure it was cancer of some sort. But before my great-grandfather died he’d already had two boys and a girl of his own. His oldest son passed away in a similar fashion, and my grandfather moved to the United States hoping to escape from the curse. He didn’t, of course. But his sister stayed in Ireland and lived there into her eighties without any problems. She had six healthy children, five of whom were boys. I was told she spent most of her life fearing the curse would take her own sons as well. But it never did, so they assumed it had finally been broken. Their line is the only other one that’s survived, and I’m sure the gene didn’t get passed on to any of them.”
“Did you tell them the truth behind this so-called curse?”
“No, I didn’t see the point.” Jenna’s lips quirked up into a slight smile. “You know the Irish. They’d blame it on the curse anyway.”
Despite her making light of it Erin knew why Jenna really hadn’t said anything. She’d wanted to spare them the knowledge of what they’d all escaped from—and what she hadn’t. “How are you dealing with this so well?” Erin asked her in amazement. “Why are you not screaming at fate and cursing life to Hell?”
“Oh, I’ve done my share of crying, believe me, Erin. But God and gratitude, those are the things that have gotten me through this. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, to have had the chance to live thirty-two years. I got to know you. I’m so grateful for that. And I’m grateful I got to teach. Most people never have a job they really love. I’ve loved every minute of mine for the last ten years—well, except for that time Johnny Tucker vomited all over the classroom floor.” She made a face, and they both laughed. Then she softly added, “I’m also grateful I can end this thing in my family. So many generations of misery will end with me.”
Erin thought about her own family history. “Generations of misery are going to end with me, too. In my family it was all self-induced. But in any case, it will also end with me. I can’t be grateful that I’m childless, but it’s probably for the best.” She smiled sadly. “We’re going to end generations of misery together, Jen.”
“You don’t know that for sure, Erin. Women get pregnant all the time with fertility treatment. If your ex-husband wasn’t such an ass you’d probably have triplets by now.”
Erin let out a laugh. “I just told Luke you never swear. I guess I have to take that back now.”
“Well, I never did care much for Peter,” Jenna said with a rare look of displeasure on her face. “He wasn’t what you needed at all. There was certainly no way for you to swim in the depths of that shallow soul.”
“Which is probably one of the reasons I married him,” Erin said ruefully. And after a hesitant pause, she added, “I saw him the day you told me you were sick. I have a feeling things aren’t going well between him and his girlfriend. He didn’t seem very happy, and he was actually sincerely apologetic about what he’d done before.”
“Good Lord, Erin! Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about taking him back.”
“No, Jen. I have no interest in repeating that disaster—or creating a new one, either. I’ve put up too many walls to be in a healthy relationship. And if I haven’t figured out how to get past them by now, how is anyone else supposed to? I think I’ll probably end up dying alone behind them.”
Jenna grabbed her gently by the arm. “No, you will not, Erin. Not if I have anything to say about it. And I do know how you can start breaking down those walls. I’ve wanted to say this for a long time, but I didn’t think you were ready or willing to listen. You need to let go of the past. You aren’t like your mother, or your father, or your grandmother. But you’ve let them dictate your life, and I don’t think you even realize how much. It’s time to let it be.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Erin said tightly. “If letting it be means forgiving, I can’t do that. I will never forgive my parents for what they did. And I will never feel anything but bitterness for my grandmother. She was a mean, vindictive woman who took pleasure in punishing a child for the sins of her parents, all in the name of God. I never told you this before, but she used to have me get down on my knees with a rosary and beg God to forgive me for being a bastard, and my mom for being a whore—among other things. And I did it at first because I was scared to deat
h of her. But then I started to rebel against all her hateful words and wouldn’t do it anymore. So she would lock me in the bedroom. It was punishment for ‘entering the path of the wicked’—her favorite phrase.” A ghost of a smile crossed Erin’s face. “Until I rebelled against that, too.”
She used to dread when her grandmother got into one of her moods, because she knew she would end up locked in the bedroom when stubbornness got the best of her and she inevitably rebelled. But it was there she’d found her first true love, and her first means of escape: books. Boxes full of books, stored in the closet and long forgotten. She’d read them all, along with any others she could get her hands on, mostly from the school library. Books about the human body and illness had always been her favorites, though. By the time she’d finished elementary school she already understood more about how the human body worked than anyone she knew—even the school nurse.
It hadn’t taken her long to discover that she could open the bedroom window and climb out onto the back porch roof. She would sit there and read for hours, always keeping her ears tuned in to the squeak of the floorboards in the hallway and scramble back in before her grandmother opened the bedroom door. By the end of elementary school no one had better hearing than her either. Or better reflexes.
But it all came to a head the summer after Erin turned eleven. She’d become especially rebellious by then and decided to climb down a tree alongside the porch one day. That was when her grandmother finally caught her. She’d gone into a rage like no other and dragged Erin into the house, spitting out random, broken verses from the Bible along the way, and locked her in the basement cellar.
The memory was as vivid and poignant as ever, and a cold, deep shiver ran through Erin. She’d thought for sure her grandmother was going to let her die down in that dark, airless little cellar. She would never forget the overwhelming sense of panic she’d felt, the fear that had reached into every part of her body and soul. It was something she never wanted to experience again.
But her grandmother’s true intentions that day would forever remain a mystery, because it turned out there had been a means of escape from that horrid cellar after all. Erin eventually found a tiny, grime-covered window almost completely hidden from view behind the top of a wooden canning shelf. And in desperation she’d managed to climb her way up to it and crawl out. Then she’d raced over to the Godfrey’s property and hid in their shed.
Erin glanced over at the old shed near the edge of the woods. Like the house, it was yellow with white trim, solidly built and well-tended. “I planned to stay in there forever, that day my grandmother threw me in the basement.”
Jenna followed the direction of her gaze and grimaced. “I was so scared for you that day. When your grandfather came looking for you and no one could find you, I thought you were never coming back. And I remember screaming bloody murder—literally—when my mom called the police. I was sure your grandmother had killed you and buried you in the woods.”
Erin laughed shortly. “She probably would have eventually if it hadn’t been for your mom. She was the one who found me. I told her what happened, and she walked me back over to my grandparents’ house. They were on the front porch talking to the police when we got there, and your mom marched right up to my grandmother and gave it to her like I’d never seen. I don’t think I ever told you about that, either.”
Erin smiled at the memory. Shannon Godfrey had always been so good-natured and soft-spoken. But she’d shown a different side of her personality during the confrontation. “She warned my grandmother that if I was ever mistreated again she would get every last God-fearing person in town after her, including the priest and the whole congregation of the church. And she told the police she would be more than happy to take me home with her, that I would be much better off in her house than in the Devil’s.” Erin shook her head and couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the look on her grandmother’s face afterward. Shannon had completely turned the tables on the old woman that night.
“The police said I had to stay with my grandparents, though,” Erin continued. “And they didn’t think anything else needed to be done since my grandmother promised not to lock me up anymore when I didn’t listen. But your mom insisted they call someone in from Child Protective Services, and she waited with me until the woman showed up. I’d never seen my grandmother so submissive before. And she was never the same again. Of course, my grandfather had a stroke not long after that, which probably took the wind out of her sails more than anything. She was always at her worst when he wasn’t around. Having him home all the time took the attention off of me.” With a hint of venom in her tone, Erin added honestly, “I was happy he had a stroke. I remember wishing she’d be next.”
But a stroke hadn’t killed her. Ironically, it had been a fall down the basement stairs. Erin was the one who’d found her after coming home from work at the hospital one night during her senior year of high school. She would never forget her grandmother lying there face up at the bottom of the stairs with those hard gray eyes staring, but not seeing…
Her grandfather’s health had quickly spiraled downward after that. Taking care of him by herself became increasingly difficult. Erin had finally told him that it might be best if he went to the nursing home. And to her astonishment the man who’d hardly ever said a word, much less expressed the slightest emotion, had cried. He hadn’t even cried for her grandmother—although she could certainly understand that. But he’d begged her not to send him away, so she’d done her best to take care of him at home. Until one morning she found him dead too. He’d passed away in his sleep, dying as silently as he’d lived.
Jenna and her dad had helped her through those difficult times, and Erin didn’t know what she would have done without them. But she’d soon been able to pay them back, when an extraordinary thing happened.
No one had ever told her that the old farmhouse and the dilapidated barn in back used to be part of a thriving dairy farm owned by her grandfather’s parents decades ago, along with hundreds of acres of prime farmland and forest all around them—and that he’d inherited everything as their only surviving son. It turned out the quiet man who’d spent most of his life laboring in a factory had been a wealthy landowner, yet one who’d chosen to live in relative poverty, leaving all that valuable land untouched. He’d received countless offers for it in the past, but for whatever reason had refused to sell.
Those facts quickly came to light after his death, though. And when the land was sold Erin had become a wealthy woman in her own right. All her worries about paying for college had been lifted from her shoulders in an astonishing instant. But she’d also known that Jenna and her dad were struggling financially as a result of his worsening illness, so she’d insisted on paying off their mounting debt as well. Then she moved in with them until she left for college, staying in the very room she had now.
“Your grandmother used religion for all the wrong reasons,” Jenna said. “It seems to me that people like her are really using it to cover up their own dark souls. God should be a source of strength and peace, not a dagger to be driven into the hearts of others.” She took Erin’s hand and held it tightly. “I hope you’ll listen to me. I want you to let go of the past and start a new beginning for both of us, one that has a happy ending. I think talking about the past like this might help you come to terms with it, help you let go. But don’t just talk about the past. Talk about the present, talk about the future—just talk, Erin. Open up and let people in, not for their sake, but for yours.”
Erin stared off into the distance. “I’ve gotten really good at holding everything in, that’s the problem. If things get even the least bit emotional or personal, I withdraw. I crawl into that safe place in my brain where I can’t be touched. Like the day I walked in and found Peter with the nurse. I didn’t say anything. I just packed up my things and left. I should have screamed at him. I should have kicked him out instead. I should have kicked somethin
g at least. But I didn’t. I turned and ran. Just like I ran from here.”
“Because it’s easier to deny your feelings, to run from them, than to allow yourself to feel pain. The problem is, you can’t be happy that way either. If you really want to live, Erin, you need to let yourself feel…You need to let yourself feel everything.”
“I’m afraid to do that,” Erin said painfully. “In fact, I don’t think there’s anything that scares me more. It’s funny, I’m an ER physician. I make life and death decisions all the time, and I’m not afraid of that. But I’m afraid of so many other things.” She sighed. “You’ve always been so much stronger and braver than me.”
Jenna vehemently shook her head. “That is not true at all. I would never have made it out of that house alive—or at least not without a straightjacket on. I would have disappeared into that safe place in my mind you spoke of and never come back. But you have a stronger mind than that. You’ve survived because of it, and it’s what makes you such a good doctor. It just hasn’t been so good for you in other ways. There’s a Zen proverb that goes, ‘Be a master of the mind, not mastered by the mind.’ If you don’t remember anything else I say, please remember that.”
“Yes, master,” Erin responded with a faint smile.
Jenna briefly chuckled, and then eyed her speculatively. “Well, since you’re being so agreeable, there are two other things I want you to do.”
“Uh oh. Am I going to like this?”
“Probably not today, but maybe someday.”
“Okay,” Erin said hesitantly. “What are they?”
“I want you to go to church with me on Sunday. Just this one time.”
Erin thought about that. She had a lot of painful memories associated with the church and hadn’t been inside one since her grandfather died. She’d even chosen to marry Peter at Boston City Hall—something his mother had never forgiven her for. But she didn’t hesitate now. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
