Page 41 of Graciously His

I take a breath and force myself to answer. “A doctor suspected Coeliac when I was really sick during secondary school.”

“Do you remember what age you were, Grace?”

“Yes, I was thirteen. It was around the time I got my first period, so I remember it pretty clearly.”

Her smile turns thoughtful. “That, unfortunately, is a classic time for many girls to have their first autoimmune symptoms. Why did the doctors think you might have Coeliac?”

“I kept going to the hospital with stomach problems. They said it was an atypical presentation for a bunch of illnesses because I was healthy in between really bad bouts, so they tested me for Coeliac as a first step.”

“I see. Did the testing include an intestinal biopsy?”

I shake my head. “They mentioned that. I remember being afraid of it because they said I’d be half-awake. Mother got them to do bloodwork first, and that came back normal so they never did the biopsy.”

Her eyes sharpen. “I have a… strange question for you now, if you don’t mind. Do you happen to recall how soon after that appointment—the one where your mother objected to the biopsy—the blood work was done?”

“A few weeks. Mother had a cold, so she wanted to stay away from the test centre.”

Eileen nods, a look of speculation narrowing her eyes a fraction. “You have an excellent memory, Grace, and I think we’ll be able to double check all of this in your history.”

“Sorry,” I say, feeling a little defensive, “but how is this relevant to the Coeliac question? It was ruled out.”

“Well, if your mother changed your diet to exclude gluten throughout the weeks before the blood draw, then your tests would have come back normal. It would have produced a false negative. Does that seem like a possibility?”

I want to scoff—of course not, how could that be?—but I can’t. Not here, in Nate’s house. Were I home, with Mother just next door and Nick at my side, my answer would be a resounding no. Here, at my new desk, in the house I designed, with sea glass reflecting the afternoon light… I can only accept the possibility with a reluctant nod.

“I see,” Eileen says gently. “We can definitely double-check our timeline, Grace, if that’s okay with you. But we don’t have to jump to any conclusions about your mother. As long as you’re in a safe place—which I think you are, given you’re with your brother-in-law—we can let that lie for the time being. Now, would you be up for going over your more recent symptoms with me?”

Her permission to table our discussion of Mother fills me with relief, even as I feel an urge to correct her. I’m not in a safe place, and Nate is my husband now. Not my brother-in-law. I force myself to answer her next question, and the one after that, and to keep the reality of my situation quiet even as I reveal the particulars of my symptoms. The appointment wears on as afternoon light shifts across the floorboards. I describe details of my life, easy to do with the bullet journal as a reference. Eileen gradually winds down her questions, and I try to keep cooperating to show my gratitude for her kindness. Finally, just before I sense the end of our time together, her eyes shift to something behind me.

“Ah, hello Nate,” she says, her voice tinged with sympathy once more. “Are you all right today?”

“Hi Eileen, just a sec.” Nate leans over me, reaching forward to toggle our image onto the corner of the screen. “There, now I’m in the frame.” He gives my shoulder a subtle pat as I stiffen. “I’m okay, especially now Grace and I can take care of each other.”

Eileen nods. “Yes, it’s best to come together as a family when tragedy strikes. Make sure you’re taking advantage of that infrared sauna. An extra fifteen minutes or so can really help regulate the parasympathetic nervous system.”

“Right you are, doc,” he answers, eyes dark and serious in the thumbnail. My own face is pale. “Do you two need more time together?”

“We were just finishing up,” Eileen says. “Now, Grace, would it be okay if I make my way out there in the next few days to collect blood from you? I think we’d best get the lab work started soon, especially if we’ll be adjusting your diet immediately.”

“You’ve never offered to come out here for me,” Nate says, mock-indignantly. He gives my thigh a squeeze under the desk. “You must be extra special, Grace.”

“She is,” Eileen confirms. “We can also discuss detox symptoms when I get there, and I’ll bring some supplements to help you through it. For tonight, I want you to rest as much as you can. Nate can also show you how to use the infrared sauna.”

Eileen and Nate agree that she’ll come sometime in the middle of the next morning and I nod along, though I’m hardly listening. Nate squeezes my leg again.

“The doc’s about to sign off, love,” he murmurs into my ear.

“Oh, right.” I try to smile. “Thanks, Eileen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Take good care of yourselves tonight.”

“Always,” Nate answers. “Thanks again for fitting us in, doc. Will you be able to access Grace’s records?”

“Yes,” Eileen answers, “we’re all set on the front. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She signs off, and I let out a sigh.

“Now you,” Nate says, tugging me to my feet, “get to relax. Let’s get you into that sauna.”