Could I Have This Dance? (51 page)

The finality of the decision hung with sober silence until John spoke again. “Have a good year, Claire. I’ll pray you find your dream.”

With that, she heard a click, and the line went dead.

Claire stood blankly staring at the phone, as her own anger erupted. “God!” she cried as she smashed the phone to the counter. “I thought this dream was your calling. But just what will it cost?”

Her head sank to the countertop next to the sink and she began to weep.

Winter struck Lafayette in mid-November and continued dealing out fierce blows until even thick-blooded Northerners prayed for relief.

Back in Stoney Creek, Della formed an HD support group which met on the first Monday of each month. Margo finished the genetics testing program in January and received the news that she was negative on the coldest day the Apple Valley had seen in three years. Two weeks later, Kyle was back and Margo bought a new minivan. “Survivor guilt,” a common response to testing negative to Huntington’s disease, was not part of Margo’s experience. She left a curt phone message on Claire’s answering machine telling her that everything was wonderful and that Margo didn’t need to think about the family curse being passed through her genes, at least.

Clay’s life continued to disintegrate. He made it to work on most days, but one day in midwinter, he showed up at the cabinet shop visibly intoxicated. When his boss sent him home, he went instead to a local airstrip,
where he demanded to go skydiving. A fight with a pilot ensued, and Clay spent the day in the county jail sobering up, and now faced charges of assault and battery, public drunkenness, and violation of his restricted driver’s license. Clay continued to assume that his eventual manifestation of HD was inevitable, and refused all urgings by Della and even by Dr. Jenkins to get genetic testing. Why should he pay to find out something he already knew? And why shouldn’t he drink? He was going to die young anyway.

Claire forged ahead through a month of orthopedic surgery, a second month of sitting hearts, and a month of plastics. In the dead of winter, she took the ABSITE (American Board Surgery Inservice Training Exam) and scored second among her intern group, having been edged out by Dr. Chris “Pepper” Bearss for the top spot and an opportunity to stand up in grand rounds for Dr. Rogers to see. For two weeks following the exam, Brett, who was taking the ABSITE for the second year in a row, seemed particularly bummed. Claire suspected he hadn’t done well, but didn’t want to upset him by bringing it up.

After she sent back John’s ring, Claire spent some time with Brett, but she was careful to stay focused and cautious not to get too close. Brett seemed to accept his role as friendly confidant with limited happiness, and Claire could feel his desire to move to the next level. She made it clear she wanted some space before another romance. She wanted time to focus on climbing the pyramid. But she could sense his interest, and privately enjoyed the lustful way he gazed at her when he thought she was unaware. They still played, “If I were the program director,” and Brett assured Claire that she would be chosen, but anguished over his own performance, and convinced himself that he was in spot number nine. He needed only one person in the top eight to fail. Or he needed to score big on a grant which would allow him to stay in Dr. Rogers’ lab for one more year so he could compete with next year’s intern group.

Claire wasn’t convinced of her security in the residency. She easily counted eight other competent interns, and feared that her upcoming malpractice suit would forever cast her in a negative light with Dr. Rogers. The selections for second-year slots would be made in May, so those cut from the program would have a few months to scramble for jobs elsewhere. That meant that Claire had only two months until the first cut. Two months to find out if her dream would stay alive.

Communication with John was infrequent and strained. For Claire, it was painful and left her feeling hollow. It was worst during her nights at home. She wore his football jersey for two weeks after sending back his diamond. After that, she tossed it to the floor in the back of her closet and kicked it behind the remnants of a college genetics project on blood-typing.

Without John’s urging for her to get an HD test, Claire put the issue of genetics testing on the back burner. For the most part, HD was her own private family secret, and she functioned around being at risk the way a driver tries to ignore a dirty windshield. The question was always there, but disregarded. She didn’t have the time or the emotional energy to contemplate a positive test result. When Margo tested negative, Claire rejoiced, but quietly feared that at least one of Wally’s children statistically should have HD, and if it wasn’t Margo, her own chances seemed higher. And so Claire busied herself with her hospital work and desperately tried not to think about HD.

But when she stumbled, or dropped an object, or lost her train of thought, or did any of a myriad of the small imperfect things that characterize normal human life, she caught herself wondering,
Could I end up dancing like Daddy
? The thought terrified her, saddened her, and fanned a faint glow of anger toward God that threatened to become a fire of resentment.

The steps leading toward a malpractice trial were agonizingly slow, and to Claire’s horror, it appeared the trial would be under way right about the time Dr. Rogers selected the second-year residents. Witnesses were deposed and examined by both the plaintiff’s attorney and the defense. During the depositions, the attorneys had a chance to question the witnesses, and hopefully gain a better understanding of the case and avoid surprises at the trial. Present at each deposition, Sierra Jones’s parents would huddle quietly with Ramsey Plank on one side, and Claire sat with her attorney, Franklin Peters, hospital attorney Peter Ondrachek, and Emmit Grabowski, CEO of Lafayette University Hospital, on the other.

In November, Ramsey Plank questioned the medical experts that the defense had gathered. In December, Franklin Peters deposed the experts that Ramsey Plank had garnered. In March, Ramsey had deposed Claire McCall, and agreed that Franklin could also question the plaintiffs, Roger and Celia Jones.

Part Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

March 2001

C
laire hated depositions. She sat at the conference table with her attorney and yawned. “Ramsey should be here any moment. He’s punctual to a fault.”

“When it suits him, he is.”

Claire wrinkled her nose. “I’m still not so sure I understand all this. Why does Ramsey want to talk to me? Why not depose someone like Beatrice Hayes? I’m sure she’d be glad to talk about me.”

“You’ve told me yourself that you suspect Beatrice has already been giving information to Ramsey. It’s clear someone did. Otherwise, I have my doubts as to whether we’d be here today. You only need to depose witnesses who won’t talk to you otherwise. If Beatrice is feeding information to Ramsey already, there’s no need for him to examine her in a deposition.”

Claire nodded.

Franklin Peters smoothed the lapels of his gray suit and explained to Claire what she could expect of the deposition.

A few moments later, they looked up as the door opened and Ramsey Plank escorted in Mr. and Mrs. Jones. Claire stood and shook Ramsey’s hand, but the Jones stood back. Celia looked at the carpet and clutched her husband’s arm. When Claire briefly made eye contact with Roger, he quickly diverted his gaze to his wife. Claire studied Roger Jones for a moment, being careful not to stare or appear angry. But inside her plastic pleasant appearance, her stomach churned.
Have you been threatening me, Mr. Jones?

Claire would go first. She quickly found out just how much Mr. Plank already knew. For the first ten minutes, all Claire had an opportunity to do was confirm the educational data that he had discovered. Claire relaxed. Mr. Plank was pleasant enough and he continuously apologized for asking probing questions.

“You are an intern, Dr. McCall?”

“Yes.”

“And you were completing your first month of internship when Sierra Jones became your patient, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. McCall, how many pediatric patients have you taken care of?”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve cared for dozens of children while doing my medical school pediatrics rotation.”

Ramsey smiled. “How many pediatric trauma cases have you managed?”

“A few. I don’t know the exact number.”

“Have you cared for any pediatric trauma cases outside Lafayette University Hospital?”

“Yes, a few during my surgery rotations at Brighton University.”

“But you were a student then, were you not? And therefore you were not really responsible for the patient’s care, is that right?”

“I learned from them, and helped take care of them, and I was a responsible medical student, but no, I was not solely responsible for their care.”

“Dr. McCall, how many pediatric trauma patients did you care for during the month of July?”

“I’m not sure.”

Ramsey pulled out a computer printout. “Let me refresh your memory. During the nights that you were on call during the month of July, the trauma team admitted twenty-two patients under the age of twenty-one, but only four patients under the age of twelve. And the other intern, Dr. Beatrice Hayes, who shared your night call, did the workups on the other three. That only leaves one patient under the age of twelve on whom you did the initial workup.”

Claire shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

“And that one patient would be Sierra Jones. Only one. Could my information be correct?”

Her mouth went dry. “I suppose.”

Ramsey seemed satisfied with that knowledge and opened his briefcase. He lifted a few papers. “Here is a copy of the health insurance application that you filled out when you became an intern at this university.” He held it up to Claire. “Do you recognize this as your handwriting?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. McCall, do you possess any health difficulty that could in any way hamper your ability to function as a physician?”

“No.”

Franklin caught her eye and wrinkled his forehead as if to say,
Where’s he going with this, Claire?

Ramsey leaned forward. “Did you knowingly omit any information about your personal medical history from this insurance application?”

Claire shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Is there any part of your past medical history, such as your family history, which you have intentionally kept hidden from the university because you felt it might damage your chances to continue in this program?”

Claire looked at Franklin.
How could Ramsey know about Huntington’s disease?
She felt warm and longed to loosen the collar of her new navy dress.

Ramsey persisted. “Are there any illnesses that run in the McCall family?”

Franklin Peters shifted in his seat. “Ramsey, I object. This can’t be relevant to this case.”

Ramsey shook his head. “We agreed on the format for this deposition. There were to be no objections.”

Franklin sighed. He tapped his pen against the table and looked at Claire. “Answer the question, Claire.”

“There is a genetic illness that runs in the McCall family,” she reported mechanically. “But I did not know of it when I started this internship and filled out the application you have in your hand.”

“And it is?”

“Huntington’s disease,” Claire answered quietly.

The hospital attorney, Ondrachek, shuffled a stack of papers in front of him. Emmit Grabowski, the CEO, cleared his throat and glared at the hospital attorney.

Franklin stood up. “Could we have a recess?”

Ramsey smiled again. “Sure.”

Franklin Peters shut the door to the small conference room where he had retreated with Claire. “What’s Ramsey getting at? What is Huntington’s disease?”

Claire paced the room. “A genetic illness which results in mental deterioration and loss of ability to control voluntary muscle movement. It usually has its onset in midlife. It has a dominant inheritance pattern, so that there is a fifty-fifty chance of children of affected parents inheriting the disease.” She pulled up a chair and sat. “My father has it.”

Mr. Peters frowned. “Do you have it, Claire?”

“I’ve never been tested. But I’m not showing any signs.”

“This disease, it would prohibit you from practicing medicine?”

Claire nodded soberly. “Definitely. But there is no reason a person with Huntington’s disease couldn’t practice successfully until symptoms began
showing.” She leaned forward until she held her forehead in her hands. “But how does he know this? No one in Lafayette knows this.” She paused. “Except one other resident.” She shook her head. “And he wouldn’t tell.”

“Ramsey has his ways. He probably sent an investigator to your hometown or something. These guys have big money on the line here. Ramsey’s cut on twenty million dollars could be huge.”

“But this is irrelevant. What does this have to do with my performance on Sierra’s case?”

“Nothing really, but Ramsey could use this in a few ways. First, he is setting you up in front of the jury to look as if deceit is part of your character. If he can convince them that you are less than honest in other areas of your life, he can make the jury suspicious of other things you say during trial. If Ramsey can convince them that you are a woman who would do anything to stay in the program, even deceive your own program director, he can make them question whether you might be hiding facts to make yourself look good in this trial as well.” He took a deep breath. “Have you been keeping this a secret, Claire?”

She kept her head in her hands and focused on the tabletop. “Yes.” She looked up. “I didn’t know about the disease until I was already an intern. I have tried to keep this from Dr. Rogers, because I didn’t want him to think I may practice only for a few years.” She stood to pace again. “But I really don’t think it’s an issue here. I’m not showing symptoms. There’s no way I could function at my present level if I had symptomatic HD.”