Free The Woman in the Photo by Mary Hogan Page A

the discovery of a gene mutation. It may, or may not, result in disease.”
    Valerie squeezed her daughter’s hand. Lee swallowed. Both bobbed their heads even though they didn’t fully comprehend what Abby was saying. Did Lee have a mutant gene?
    After she was done speaking, Abby made a copy of Lee’s driver’s license. She gave her a form to sign and notarized her signature. In a soothing voice, she asked, “How are you feeling?”
    â€œNervous as hell,” Valerie said.
    Abby smiled. “I’m wondering how Lee feels, too.”
    Lee paused. How did she feel? Nervous? Yeah. Excited? Yeah. She felt so many different emotions she couldn’t put her finger on one alone. Out of the blue, a thought popped into her mind. She said, “I feel like I’m about to meet myself.”
    At that moment, all doubt vanished like chimney smoke on a cold desert night. “Let ’er rip,” she said.
    Abby opened the skinny file. Over its top edge, Val and Lee again watched her eyeballs move left and right. “Oh,” she spurted. “Interesting.”
    â€œInteresting?” Lee and Valerie echoed the same word at the same time.
    â€œAre you familiar with the Ashkenazi tribe?”
    â€œIndians?” Lee asked. “I mean, Native Americans?”
    â€œNo. The Ashkenazim are an ancient tribe of Jews.”
    â€œI’m Jewish?”
    â€œYes, actually. On the maternal side of your birth genetics is a direct line back to the Ashkenazim. Probably from Germany. Maybe Palestine.”
    â€œNeat,” Lee said, grinning.
    â€œThe only reason this is potentially important information isbecause recent genetic testing has revealed that there are some elevated medical risks particular to Ashkenazi women. That’s why your file was flagged.”
    â€œRisks? Like what?” Valerie leaned forward.
    Abby said, “Again, genetic risks can be relatively small. Although, Ashkenazi women who inherit a certain gene mutation do have to be vigilant. The reason we inform adoptees is so they can make sure this information is a part of their medical record. Your doctor will help you decide if genetic testing is appropriate.”
    â€œGenetic testing for what?” Lee gripped the armrests again.
    â€œWell, breast and ovarian cancers are the biggest concerns,” she said, gently.
    â€œCancer?” Valerie blanched.
    â€œAnd some other diseases like—” Abby’s fingers returned to the computer keyboard. She read: “Bloom syndrome, Canavan disease, Gaucher disease.”
    â€œI’ve never even heard of those. Is my daughter in danger?”
    Abby replied, “We advise all adoptees and their families to discuss this information with a licensed genetics physician. I can give you a list of referrals in your area.”
    â€œThanks,” Val said, still pale. Lee felt numb. She’d come all this way to find out she might get cancer?
    â€œWhile I get that for you,” Abby said in a bright voice, “there’s something in your file you might want to see. I have no idea how we ended up with it. Maybe your birth mother attached it to her paperwork? At any rate, I see no harm in showing you if you want to see it.”
    â€œSee what?” Lee blurted.
    â€œA photograph of your maternal ancestor.”
    Lee’s mouth flew open. “What?” Valerie scooted to the edge of her seat as Abby pulled an old black-and-white photo out of the manila folder. She handed it to Lee, who was surprised to feel her hands tremble. The photo was a small snapshot of two women—one tall, like her, the other short. Both were regal in their way—staring straight into the camera lens. All around them was dirt and rubble. Leaning in to take a look, Valerie squealed, “Honey! That’s you!”
    It was true. The tall woman on the right, slightly in the background, looked just like her. She had dark messily upswept hair, wavy