Page 46 of Fern's Date with Destiny
For a while, it was easy to forget that anything waited beyond this room.
After, she curled into his side, her cheek pressed over his heart.He traced lazy patterns on her back, breathing her in, memorizing the feel of her.
It should have been perfect.Itwasperfect.
But the minute her breathing evened out in sleep, the thoughts came crawling back, cold and sharp.
She deserves this every day.This peace, this joy.Not a man who might lose pieces of himself.
He examined his hand where it rested on her hip.The fingers that sometimes didn’t listen to him anymore, and his chest went tight.
What if I can’t give her this for the long haul?What if the best thing I can do for her is to let her go before she’s too far in to walk away?
Fern shifted in her sleep, a soft little sigh as she burrowed closer and held him tighter.As if she could feel his doubt and was determined to chase it away even in her dreams.
He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her hair.
Tomorrow, he’d find a way to believe he was enough.For tonight, he’d let himself be hers.
Just hers.
13
He’d been thinking about this the wrong way, Cody decided.Maybe the trick wasn’t to wait for answers but to pretend he didn’t need them.If he didn’t know what was wrong, he could pretend nothing was.He could carry on, work, ride, be with Fern, and it could all be enough.
But when the specialist’s office called him in the second Thursday in June, even the trees budding along the Glenbow Clinic parking lot couldn’t fool him into hoping.Spring was wasted on him.
The doctor’s office smelled like lemon cleaner and the strong tang of anxiety—his own.He sat across from her desk, hands folded tight in his lap, willing them to stay still.
She didn’t drag it out.Maybe he was grateful for that.
“Cody.”Dr.Jorgenson’s voice was calm, not gentle exactly, but direct in a way he’d come to respect.“We have your results.I want to be clear—we don’t assign a diagnosis lightly.But based on your history, exam, and the imaging we did, you have what we call young-onset Parkinson’s disease.”
The words dropped onto his chest like a stone.
“Young-onset,” he repeated.
“It means you’re under forty when it begins,” she explained.“Which comes with different challenges but also some advantages.People your age typically respond better to medication, and they tend to stay active longer.”
Cody stared at the floor, where the toe of his boot scuffed a pale mark across the tile.“And eventually?”
Her silence was just long enough to feel honest.“It’s progressive.There’s no cure yet.But we can manage symptoms for years, sometimes decades.You’ll have good days and harder ones.It doesn’t define you.”
Didn’t it, though?The tremor in his hand already felt like a billboard announcing his weakness.
He forced a breath and tried to joke.“Bottom line, I’m rusting early.”
Dr.Jorgenson smiled.“That’s one way to put it.Your brain isn’t making dopamine the way it should.We’ll start medication, see how you respond.How you react to the treatment often gives us more clarity than tests alone.”
“My work,” he said hoarsely.“I ride.I ranch.I?—”
“You may need to make adjustments,” she acknowledged.“At some point.But you’re not powerless, Cody.You’re still you.You’ll still be you when you’re on medication and when you need help, when you need to ask for more than you ever have.”
He thought of Fern.The way she looked at him, as if he was her safe place.Her someday.
A memory flashed.Her in his passenger seat, singing along to some country station, her prosthesis resting lightly on her thigh while she tapped out the beat with her other hand.She didn’t hide her difference.Didn’t apologize for it.
Maybe he could learn something from her.But right now, he couldn’t feel anything but the weight pressing on his ribs, making it hard to breathe.
