The Midwife's Little Miracle by Fiona McArthur

involuntary movements in her fingers and toes, everything ties in.’
    Montana puckered her forehead and then shookher head. ‘I think you are being too hard on yourself. It’s still pretty tenuous. I’d never have thought of Huntington’s. It’s not your everyday disease. And how could she not know about a family disease like that?’ The link wasn’t there, that Montana could see. ‘Without the family history, Huntington’s doesn’t even come up.’
    Andy rubbed the back of his neck again as if it ached. ‘I think you’ll find there will be an aunt or uncle or grandparent somewhere in the past who didn’t die young. Obviously one of her parents had the gene but died in the car accident before they were diagnosed.’
    ‘So it can’t skip a generation?’ Montana asked, and she shivered at Clare’s prognosis.
    ‘You’re thinking of Emma and her baby? And Emma’s brothers.’
    She nodded. ‘It’s a terrible thing to have hanging over your head.’
    Andy watched the road intently and she had no doubt his brain was racing. ‘This disease usually doesn’t manifest until the person is in their thirties or forties. It can even be as late as a person’s seventies and in that case the disease is often mild.’
    Best-case scenario. ‘So they could get it late and mild if they were lucky.’
    Andy slapped the steering-wheel at the unfairness and Montana thought again how much she admired his empathy for his patients. ‘Lucky? Yeah.’ he said.
    They both fell silent and then he added, ‘I guess we have to think about some unfortunate people who have juvenile onset—but thankfully that’s rare.’
    Montana didn’t know how to comfort Andy. ‘Can you treat Clare if this is what her problem is?’
    He glanced across at her briefly and his face reflected his sombre thoughts. ‘Only supportively. But I will do everything I can for her and her family. We’ll make sure they have the support they need but if Clare has inherited the gene then it’s activated and her central nervous system is breaking down. Her symptoms are only going to get worse and eventually she’ll require full-time professional care.’
    Montana stared at the road in front, too, and she could feel the shock course through her. ‘That’s horrific.’
    Andy sighed heavily. ‘The disease has a fairly slow progress and Clare could live another twenty years, a few of those fairly normally.’
    ‘How few?’ Montana was thinking how hard this must be for Andy as a friend of the family.
    He took one hand off the steering-wheel to rub his neck again and Montana wanted to slide her hand across his shoulders and gently soothe him herself.
    ‘Clare will have enough warning to modify her lifestyle so she can stay at home for as long as possible, but each year will be harder. We can all only pray someone finds a cure before then,’ Andy said quietly.
    The mood in the car was low and Montana thought again of Emma and her baby. ‘Is there much hope for a cure?’
    Andy turned and met her eyes briefly. ‘There’s always hope.’
    ‘So would you test Emma and her brothers?’ She hoped he’d be spared the emotions of actual testing and diagnosis.
    ‘We’d better make sure that’s what it is first, but I’d suggest it, though the choice is up to them. It’s not something they should rush into.’
    He sighed. ‘Actually, I’d prefer to refer them to Brisbane for proper genetic counselling before the predictive test. I’d hate to let them down by wrong information or not enough right information.’
    Montana thought about it. ‘I imagine some people would choose not to be tested until they are in their thirties so they can enjoy their life without knowing what’s ahead.’
    He nodded. ‘The “lets worry about it if it happens,” option, which has some positives going for it. Like Clare’s parents. Other people feel they need to plan if they test positive. Either way would colour your life, I imagine.’
    They pulled up at the house and