They took the stairs to the second floor, and the doctor led Dahlgren down the hall to a door marked “207.” He rapped perfunctorily on the open door and stepped in. Dahlgren followed.
It was a small room, brightly illuminated by sunlight pouring in from the window. The space was dominated by a bed, the head of which was set against the wall to the left. On the far side of the bed, a woman whom Dahlgren judged to be in her mid- to late-twenties sat in a chair. She was not wearing a nurse’s cap or uniform. Instead, she was dressed in a plain, white smock. She had a name tag that Dahlgren couldn’t read, and a tiny gold crucifix hung from her neck.
In her left hand, the woman held a small cup with a straw. The other hand was supporting the head of the patient who occupied the bed. It took Dahlgren a moment to process the fact that the tiny figure in the bed was his daughter.
Mary’s face was pale, almost the color of the white sheet on which she lay. It appeared thin and drawn. Her eyes, however, were still the same stunning blue, and when they saw him, they opened wide.
She pushed the straw from her lips with her tongue and said, “Dad.”
She said it so softly, he could barely hear it. He stepped over to the side of the bed, and Mary followed him with her eyes. She did not otherwise move. Dahlgren looked back, uncertainly, at the doctor.
“Why don’t you take her hand,” the doctor said.
Mary’s right hand rested on the top of the blanket. Dahlgren reached for it and put it between his. It felt limp at first. But then he detected just the slightest stirring. Mary’s eyes crinkled slightly, and the corners of her mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles.
“Good to see you, Dad,” she whispered.
He increased the pressure slightly on her hand, and she seemed to respond with a movement of her own.
“Penny,” the doctor said, “will you give us a moment?”
The woman nodded. She gently lowered Mary’s head to the pillow, touched Mary briefly on the shoulder and rose. Mary’s eyes followed her. She gave Mary a smile, turned and walked out of the room.
The doctor stepped around to the other side of the bed, took Mary’s left hand in one of his and said, “Mary, try to squeeze my hand.”
He paused a moment. Then he said, “Good.” He looked at Dahlgren. “She’s getting stronger.”
The doctor turned his attention to Mary. “Mary,” he said, “do you know where you are?”
After a moment, she gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.
“Where?”
“The hospital,” she said, faintly.
“Do you know what happened to you?”
There was a long pause. Mary’s eyes seemed to cloud. Finally, she moved her head slightly to the side and back.
The doctor patted her hand. “That’s ok,” he said. He looked at Dahlgren. “That’s very common.”
#
Mary reached a hand out slowly, put a finger on one of the white checkers and slid the piece diagonally.
She was sitting up in bed. Late afternoon sunshine glowed in the window and cast what looked like a halo around the hair on Penny’s head. Mary chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Penny asked, without taking her eyes off the board. “You think you got me now, huh?”
Mary shook her head. “No. I was looking at the light shining through your hair.”
Penny looked up and unconsciously patted her own head. “What? Does it look bad?”
“No,” Mary said, and she laughed. “It looks beautiful.”
Penny’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, yeah. Gorgeous.”
Penny, Mary knew, had some self-esteem issues. She was not, Mary had to admit, a classically beautiful woman. Her face was a little long, and her features were somewhat plain. The side of one of her eyes drooped slightly, the result, Penny had explained, of a kick she’d received from a horse as a little girl.
To Mary, however, Penny was beautiful.
The young woman had been an almost constant companion from the time Mary had awakened to find herself in the hospital. In the several weeks they’d spent together, Mary had grown extremely fond of her. Penny had one of the purest hearts Mary had ever known. She was very devout, and had at one time considered becoming a nun. However, as much as Penny loved God, she also loved her husband Andy. The two had been married at a young age, and, though they’d been unable to conceive the child they both so much wanted, they were happy together.
Andy had worked as an attendant in the mental health ward of the hospital until he’d been drafted into the army a couple of months earlier. Penny had found her calling serving as a nurse’s assistant and caring for bedridden patients like Mary. It was something she’d been doing for several years now, and, for Penny, it represented a reasonable substitute for the service to God she had passed up.
Whatever the reasons that had brought Penny to her, Mary thanked God that He had seen fit to let it happen.
Penny had taken to spending time with Mary after her shift ended in the afternoon. She’d also begun coming in on the weekends. Though delighted to have her companionship, Mary had expressed concerns about monopolizing Penny’s time. Penny had dismissed them outright. “Don’t even start with me about that,” she had said. “I can’t stand sitting alone in that apartment. All I’ll do is think about Andy, and then all I’ll do is worry.”
Penny used one of her pieces to jump over two of Mary’s, and she removed the eliminated pieces from the board.
Mary concentrated on bringing her arm over and taking hold of the piece she wanted to move. Mentally, she felt strong. For a few weeks after waking up, she had been confused and easily tired. Thankfully, that feeling had passed. She still, however, struggled with physical movements, needing to think about what she was doing.
She gripped the piece she wanted, slowly raised it and moved it over the first of the three checkers she intended to jump. As she set it down on the first square, Penny slapped herself on the forehead and said, “I do not believe I did that.”
Mary slowly completed the triple. She sat back and said, with a grin, “Crown me.”
Penny chuckled and added the additional piece to the one Mary had just played. “When you move slowly like that, it fools me. It’s easy to forget that your mind is sharp as a tack.”
Mary laughed. “I’m doing it intentionally, you know.”
Penny, who was hunched over the board, said, “I can believe that.”
“Have you heard from Andy?”
Penny looked up and nodded. “I got a letter today. He’s done with basic training. He sounded happy about that. He’s not sure where he goes next.” Her brow furrowed. “Or, at least, he’s not telling me.”
“Oh, Penny, I know. Let’s just hope we stay out of the war.”
Penny gave Mary an odd look.
“What?” Mary said, after a moment.
Penny continued staring at Mary. After a moment, Mary started to become concerned. She opened her mouth to speak, but Penny said, “Mary, do you remember Pearl Harbor?”
Mary thought for a moment. “I’ve heard of it. It’s in Hawaii, right?”
“That’s it?”
Mary smiled. “I’ve never been there, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Penny looked down for a moment, then back up. “Do you know what month this is?”
“Sure. It’s August.” Penny had just celebrated a birthday the week before. August 18. It stuck in Mary’s mind because it had been just one day removed from the day that had been her mother’s birthday, August 19.
Penny nodded her head. “And do you know what year it is?”
The question surprised Mary. And, for some reason, it made her feel uneasy. Slowly, she said, “I think I do.”
Penny arched her eyebrows.
“Isn’t it,” Mary said, suddenly uncertain, “1941?”
Penny blinked her eyes a couple of times. Finally, she reached out a hand and took one of Mary’s. “Mary,” she said, “it’s 1942.”
#
“There’s really nothing Mary can’t do at this point,” the doctor explained to Jim Dahlgren. They were sitting in the hospital cafeteria. It was the same doctor Dahlgren had met when he had visited Mary in early July.
Mary was finally ready to be discharged. She’d been deemed fit to travel and capable of functioning on her own. Dahlgren had made the drive to Terre Haute that morning, and the doctor had suggested they spend some time talking before he picked her up.
“She still has a little motor impairment,” the doctor continued. “Some physical activities continue to require concentration. But that’ll get better, especially once she’s home and in a familiar environment.”
“What about her memory?”
The doctor sat back and crossed his legs. “That’s the big unknown. This is one of the more severe cases I’ve encountered, though I’ve read of others like it.” He shrugged. “To tell you the truth, she may never get back the time she lost.”
“But she might.”
The doctor nodded. “I think there’s a chance she’ll recover some of it. It could come back in stages. A bit here, a bit there. Or, it could come back all at once. That’s less likely, I think, but it could happen.”
“Will she remember what happened to her the night she was hurt?”
“Possibly, though that’s even more of an unknown. Some research suggests that memory loss is, in part, a defense mechanism. Some events may be so painful or traumatic the mind simply represses them. That might be part of what’s going on here.”
“Is there anything we should or shouldn’t do? Could it be harmful for Mary to suddenly remember things?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. There’s no reason to hold back information. If her mind is suppressing memories in order to protect her, it’ll continue to do so until it’s time for her to remember. No reason, however, not to give it that opportunity. The best thing that can be done for Mary is simply for her to immerse herself in her old life. Let her experience things that might stimulate a recollection. A familiar event, a face, even a word can have a triggering effect. Particularly anything that sparks an emotional reaction. See that she gets back to her old routines. Let nature run its course.”
Dahlgren took a sip of coffee. There were seven weeks to go before the election. Though he’d been initially concerned when the doctors had told him Mary had lost the memory of an entire year of her life, he’d quickly recognized the pragmatic silver lining in that cloud. Most importantly, she had no memory of Jon Meyer. As long as that memory didn’t return, her relationship with the boy, whatever it was, couldn’t adversely impact Dahlgren’s chances of being elected. As an added bonus, the tension that had developed between Dahlgren and his daughter was gone. He certainly didn’t mind having that clean slate, and he wasn’t particularly interested in stimulating a recollection that would dredge up those painful moments.
“I understand,” he told the doctor.
#
Penny finished buttoning Mary’s sweater, stepped back, and appraised her.
“You look like a model,” she said, and Mary blushed.
“Oh, Penny, I can’t believe I won’t be seeing you. I mean, I’m happy to be going home, but I’ll miss you terribly.”
“Well, honey,” Penny said, gathering up the rest of Mary’s things and slipping them into the case the girl’s father had brought with him that morning, “we’re not going to be strangers. We’re going to keep in touch, and I’m going to come visit you in Jackson as soon as I get some time off. In the meantime, you have some catching up to do with your father. And something tells me there are a few folks back home who are anxious to see you.”
Mary gave an acknowledging nod.
“I’ll bet there’s a special guy, too, isn’t there?” Mary had never mentioned any boys, and Penny had been loathe to ask previously because she didn’t want Mary to dwell on her circumstances. But she felt certain a girl as smart and pretty as Mary had to have a beau.
Mary’s brow knitted, and she suddenly looked disoriented. Penny reached out a steadying hand. Mary was still vulnerable to moments of confusion.
“Mary?”
Mary looked away for a moment. Then she looked back, and, as she did, the lines on her forehead smoothed and her brilliant smile returned. “Yes?”
“Are you ok?”
Mary nodded. “Do you promise to come to Jackson?”
Penny put two hands on Mary’s shoulders and gave her a solemn look. “I do.”
Mary reached out her arms and they encircled Penny, drawing her close. “Thank you for everything,” she said, her head pressed firmly against Penny’s chest.
Penny put one hand on Mary’s back and the other she rested gently against the back of Mary’s head. “No, Mary,” Penny said with feeling, “thank you for being part of my life.”
After a long moment, they separated. Mary took a deep breath, picked up the small suitcase, and said with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, “Here we go.”
She walked to the door, where she stopped and turned back. A look of concern crossed her face. “Aren’t you coming?”
Penny shook her head. “No. This is where we say goodbye for now.”
Penny stepped across the room and stood in front of Mary. With her right hand, she made the sign of the cross in front of Mary’s face. Then she leaned over and kissed Mary gently on the forehead. “Travel safely, Mary. And I’ll see you soon.”
Tears welled in Mary’s eyes. She looked at Penny for a long moment. Then she nodded, turned, and walked out of the room.
#
Sam Parker pushed open the door to the diner and stepped inside. She saw Gwenda immediately and waved. Mr. Dahlgren, she could see, was seated across from Gwenda, his back to Sam. She made her way over to the table and slid into the booth next to Gwenda.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Sam,” replied Mr. Dahlgren. Gwenda gave Sam’s hand a quick squeeze.
Sam was excited. Mary was finally home from the hospital, and Sam would see her for the first time in over five months. She had thought she might never see her friend again.
Mr. Dahlgren had contacted Sam and Gwenda the day before, after returning from Terre Haute. They’d been anxious to come over right away, but he’d suggested they wait until the next morning, to give Mary a chance to rest from the long trip. He’d asked them to meet him here at the diner before they came to the house.
Mr. Dahlgren took a sip of his coffee, then gave the girls a friendly smile. “Thank you for meeting me this morning. Before you see Mary, I just wanted to go over some things I discussed with her doctor yesterday.”
Sam nodded, as did Gwenda.
“One thing the doctor stressed,” Dahlgren went on, “was how vulnerable Mary is right now. Anything that might remind her of the accident must be avoided at all costs. You mustn’t say anything to her about what happened.”
Sam shrugged. “We don’t even know what happened.” She looked at Gwenda. For some reason, Gwenda looked away. Sam returned her attention to Mr. Dahlgren. “All we’ve heard was that she was supposedly attacked by Jon Meyer.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Dahlgren. “I particularly need you to avoid any mention of Jon Meyer.”
“What if she asks us questions about Jon?” asked Gwenda.
“She won’t,” replied Mr. Dahlgren. “She doesn’t remember him at all.”
Sam was surprised. “At all?”
“At all. Girls, Mary has no memory of the past twelve months. In her mind, Jon Meyer doesn’t even exist. I want you to keep it that way.”
Sam tried to process the information. “She doesn’t remember any part of the past year?”
Mr. Dahlgren shook his head. “None of it.”
“Wow,” Sam said. And then, because she couldn’t think of anything else, she repeated, “Wow.”
“So,” Gwenda said slowly, “we can’t mention Jon, but we can talk about other things that happened?”
“I’d
prefer you didn’t,” Mr. Dahlgren replied. “Anything about the past year could trigger a reminder of Jon Meyer, and that could be devastating.”
A thought occurred to Sam. “How is she going to avoid hearing about Jon from others? I mean, we can hold off saying anything about him, but there’s no way he isn’t going to come up.”
“Well, that’s one of the things I wanted to explain to you. For the next few weeks, Mary isn’t going to be seeing anyone other than the two of you. And me, of course. We’re going to keep her sequestered for a while. Just to give her time to become reacclimated.”
“She won’t be going to school?” Gwenda asked.
Mr. Dahlgren shook his head.
“She can’t go to parties?” asked Sam.
Again, Mr. Dahlgren shook his head.
“And how long is it going to be like this?” Sam asked.
“Just a few weeks,” Mr. Dahlgren said. He smiled. “Tell you what. The election is in early November. Why don’t we make that the cutoff? Until then, Mary will stay at the house. She can have the two of you as visitors, but no one else. Once the election is over, we’ll let her ease back into a more normal routine. Sound reasonable?”
Not really, Sam thought. But, then again, she wasn’t a doctor. If this is what the doctor wanted, she would go along with it for Mary’s sake. She nodded, as did Gwenda.
“Great. So, are you ready to see Mary?”
“Yes,” both girls said at once.
When they entered the Dahlgren house, Mr. Dahlgren said, “Mary should be on the sun porch. Why don’t you join her out there?”
With Gwenda in tow, Sam passed through the living room. At the steps leading out to the sun porch, she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Then she stepped into the room.
Mary was sitting cross-legged on one of the chaise lounges, facing the door, a look of bright anticipation on her face. The moment they made eye contact, she jumped up and threw her arms open. Sam and Gwenda fell into them, and they hugged tightly.
#
Ben Wheeler pushed open the door to Dahlgren’s Hardware and stepped inside. Walt Gallagher was at the counter, and he called out, “Hey, Mr. Wheeler. Haven’t seen you in while.”
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