Page 20 of Every Rose

Chapter Seven

Since the moment Jack had stumbled into her office doubled over in pain she’d felt anything but calm. The man she had called dad for all of her life was seriously ill. Rose did not belong in the Chance family. She’d known it since she was old enough to recognize what a princess was. All those stories, those fairy tales about princesses being snatched away from their real homes, or forced to work in slavery until their true status could be outed had always resonated with the tiny Rose.

She loved Jack and Daphne with all her heart but they’d embarrassed her for most of her life. She didn’t even recall how she’d first learned about fashion, but she knew that by the time she was in grade school she was convinced she did not belong in a family where wearing second hand clothes was a point of pride. Recycling and respecting the earth’s resources was honorable and good, but she’d longed for shiny, sparkly, new.

In their usual new-age way, Jack and Daphne had refused to tell their eleven kids which of them was adopted and which were their natural children. Jack, in particular, with his bitter memories of being a foster kid, never wanted their adopted children to feel like second-class citizens. Rose, of course, had been convinced she was adopted from the moment she was conscious of how different she was from them. She’d never felt like a second-class citizen. She felt special. Of course, one day she’d be reunited with her real family. By the time she was old enough to realize that there wasn’t as much royalty in the world as Disney would have you believe, she’d become certain that one day she’d find the people who were just like her.

The deal was that the kids could ask about their real parentage when they were sixteen years old, but sixteen came and went and she didn’t ask.

She’d watch families on TV, the fancy ones, or pass well-dressed, fashionable people on the street and think, I bet I’m related to them. It was fun to picture herself among people she felt an instant kinship with. She’d also seen how upset Iris had been when she’d met her birth parents and discovered she was a product of a very twisted relationship and, in fact, getting pregnant had been her birth mother’s last ditch effort to trap her married lover. The reunion had been a disaster and Iris had discovered how contemptible her birth parents were.

So, Rose hung on to her fantasies and put off ever finding out the real story.

The older she got, the less her parentage mattered to her. But she hugged her special status to her. When Jack built yet another crooked wall in their rabbit warren of a house, she could smile, not worrying that his crackpot gene was in her DNA. When Daphne showed up in Portland in thrift store jeans with a mismatched patch sewed on the knee, she comforted herself that her real mother wouldn’t be seen dead looking like such a wreck. But she loved them and worried about Jack’s health.

She and Daphne were sitting with Jack the next day. Daphne had spent the night in her spare room and she’d rescheduled as much of her day as she could. Matt strode in. “Morning, Jack. How are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but a whole lot better than I have for the past few days.”

“Good. Well, we got your test results back. You’ve got something called hemochromatosis.” He glanced at Rose. “Rose can explain it all to you, but basically, your body produces too much iron. The excess iron is stored in your organs, especially your liver, heart and pancreas. Over time, the iron poisons those organs. That’s what happened to your heart.”

Jack looked confused. “But how did I catch it? Is it like a virus?”

“No. It’s hereditary, the most common genetic disease among Caucasians. It was your bad luck that you inherited two faulty genes. It’s typical to show up later in life.”

“Can it be cured?”

“It can be managed. Basically, you’ll have blood drawn on a regular basis to keep the iron levels in check.”

Matt checked Jack’s incision while he was talking. He nodded and reattached the bandage. “Everything looks good.”

Daphne said, “So, if it’s hereditary?”

“All of you should get checked. Even if your children only have one gene, they can still be carriers. It’s a good thing to know.”

“Well, I don’t need to be tested,” Rose said, happy for about the millionth time about her mysterious parentage. “I’m adopted.”

Jack and Daphne exchanged a glance.

“Honey–”

Jack interrupted. “We always said we wouldn’t.”

Daphne made atsksound. “That was before you turned out to have a genetic disorder.” She turned to Rose. “Darling, you really need to get yourself checked.”

Rose stared at Daphne, then at Jack, as the meaning of those words sank in.

She imagined this was how people felt when they suddenly discovered all their savings had gone in a bank crash. Stunned. Disbelieving. Bereft. “But I can’t be yours. We don’t have anything in common.”

Daphne got up and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. I know you always dreamed of something better.”

“I’m seriously your kid?”

It was Jack who answered, “Yes.”

She wanted to jump out of her chair and flee. If she’d been a kid, that’s what she would have done, but she was an adult. So, she said, “Okay, I’ll get the genetic testing.” And then she began processing the incredible news.

All her princess fantasies, and it turned out she’d been Daphne and Jack’s kid all along.

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