Family Secrets

Harvey Singleton took a deep breath, looked again at the numbers he had scrawled on the note pad, and picked up the phone. Ten digits.

On the fourth ring, a male voice answered. “Hello.”

“Dr. Crane, please. Dr. Harvey Singleton calling from CDC in Atlanta."

“This is Crane, Dr. Singleton. CDC? Sounds like we might have a problem.”

“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Hold on. I’ll turn off the TV.” Harvey had heard a broadcast voice in the background. It sounded like one of those CNN guys. For a moment, there was silence. Then, “Okay. You did say Dr. Singleton?”

“Yes, Harvey Singleton.”

“How can I help you, Dr. Singleton?”

“I’d like to give you some background. Then, you can decide how you want to respond.”

“Sure. I must say, it’s certainly a surprise to be getting a call from CDC at my home and at this time of day.”

“I think you’ll understand. First, let me say that I’m a member of some pretty serious investigative teams at CDC.” Harvey paused. There was a hint of a smile in his voice when he resumed. “Some folks here still call me a hot-shot. But I think of hot-shots as being less than thirty. I just turned thirty-one.”

For a moment, there was no response from Dr. Crane. Then, Harvey heard what he took to be Crane’s professional voice. “Well, that’s nice. How does this involve me … other than to believe you might be able to fix whatever problems there might be?”

Harvey gathered his resolve. “I was born at the Emory University Hospital. My mother died when I was three years old.”

“Was she from around here?”

“No, no. She’d always lived in Atlanta. At first, she was a very good nurse, but she became an alcoholic in her mid-twenties. Her autopsy said it was a drug overdose. I prefer to think it was an accident.” Again, Harvey paused.

Finally, Dr. Crane responded. “I’m sorry to hear all this personal history, Dr. Singleton. But I really think you should come to the point.”

“Yes, I agree. I was born on November 22, 1978. You were a third year medical student at the time.”

Harvey had wondered if this information was going to cause a disconnection. It didn’t. “Where is this going … whoever you are?”

“Thank you for not hanging up. I promise. I will not require anything from you. I have two sons. The oldest looks just like me: blond, blue eye\s. He’s a tall, skinny kid, just like I was.”

There was silence on the phone. Harvey continued. “I gather from my mother’s family that I must be careful with alcohol. Her father died with untreated prostate cancer. Her mother died from congested heart failure when she was 87. Is there any other family medical history I should know?”

Harvey could hear the intake of breath. The voice was deeper, angry. “You can’t prove anything.”

“I’m an epidemiologist here at CDC. But I don’t need any DNA test to confirm what I know, not after I saw your picture with the Medical Class of 1979.” He snorted. “You and I, we could be brothers.”

There was a moment of silence again. “What do you want?”

Harvey was feeling more confident. “Two things. First, I don’t plan to show up on your doorstep and tell your wife, Eleanor. Nor my half-brothers, Jacob and Sam. What I want is some medical history so that your grandsons and I will know what we might expect. And this may scare you.” He paused. The timber of this voice changed. “If I can’t love you, at least I’d hope I can come to like you.”

There was a sound on the phone. Harvey listened. Then, he went on. “Look, why don’t you think about it. Can I give you my phone number?

The voice on the other side of the phone was quieter this time, shaking a little. “That sounded like something your mother would have said. In the Crane family, we didn’t talk about love and emotions. She … . She was warm. So good. Different from me. From my family.”

Harvey spoke quietly now. “Thanks for that. She’s buried here in Atlanta. I’ll go over and tell her you said that … that she was good.”

“Do you remember her?”

“No, I was too young. The state put me in various foster homes a year before she died.”

“Homes? More than one?”

Harvey laughed quietly. “Yeah. I was … well, let’s say I was creatively mischievous. So, I got bounced around a little.”

“But you went to college?”

“Track scholarship during the school year. I had to be creative again in the summers. I’ll not confess to all that over the phone. Let’s just say that I used some of the talents you gave me.”

There was silence again. Harvey was smiling. He wiped his hand over his face. Then, Dr. Crane spoke. “I hear the car. It’s Eleanor. She’s coming up the drive. Coming from prayer meeting.”

“You have a pencil?”

“Hold it.” There was silence. “Ready.”

“404 421 3239.”

“Got it.”

“I hope you’ll think about calling. Maybe come to Atlanta sometime.”

Harvey heard the noise of a door closing. Then, “No promises. Gotta go.”

There was the sound of the phone disconnection. Harvey lowered his phone. He could hear the dial tone. He shrugged. “Bye, dad.”