The new doctor said her depression was a reaction to an old undiagnosed bout with hepatitis, and he gave her new medications. Elizabeth did not respond and, in fact, grew worse. Her appetite waned; she developed insomnia and began to have crying spells. And still she talked, almost obsessively now, about not being able to have children.
In fearful frustration, Adam finally sought the help of a psychiatrist. He told Adam Elizabeth’s obsession with pregnancy was the cause of all her ills, and prescribed yet more antidepressants and a new antianxiety drug. Elizabeth improved slightly, and Adam grew hopeful. She allowed a few close friends to visit and one night even went to the opera with Adam, though they had to leave at intermission. She even felt well enough occasionally to come down to dinner.
One night, Elizabeth was sitting at the table in a blue silk dressing gown, her hair pinned up. Kellen, delighted her mother was there, chatted away to keep spirits high. She began to talk about weddings, and Elizabeth sat quietly, half listening.
“Mommy, what was your wedding to Daddy like?” Kellen asked.
Elizabeth’s pale face was a blank, and Adam held his breath, curbing his urge to prompt her memory. Then, she smiled slightly.
“Oh, it was beautiful,” she said softly. She glanced down the table at Adam then back at Kellen. “We got married in this little church not too far from here. Just a small sanctuary, with beams across the ceiling and wooden pews. The pastor was an old man, with a funny little beard.”
She looked at Adam and her eyes came to life. “Do you remember him, Adam?”
“Yes,” Adam said softly. “Very well.”
“I wore a dress made of cream-colored lace,” Elizabeth went on. “And a matching hat with a veil. Your father wore a blue suit and had a red rosebud in his lapel. It kept falling off.”
Kellen was listening intently, her eyes on Elizabeth.
“There were candles,” Elizabeth said. “It seemed like hundreds of candles. And it was raining. A sweet, soft rain that smelled like eucalyptus trees.” She smiled, and for a moment, she seemed like her former self. “I remember it all so clearly, like it was yesterday. But it wasn’t, of course. It was...”
She paused, and very slowly her smile faded and the light left her eyes. “It was...” she repeated in a whisper. Her face crumpled suddenly in despair. “It was...”
Kellen looked at Adam. He felt frozen as the awful seconds ticked by. Tears began to fall down Elizabeth’s face.
“I can’t remember,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t remember. I can’t remember when it was!”
Kellen’s face was white with alarm. Adam jumped up and went to Elizabeth. She gripped his arm.
“I can’t remember,” she said. Adam pressed her head against his chest, holding her while she cried.
“It was the summer of nineteen thirty-seven, Elizabeth,” he said, the words coming out in a choke. “July ninth.”
After a moment, Elizabeth’s crying abated into soft sobs. Adam helped her out of the chair and led her upstairs.
Kellen sat at the table alone, staring at the flickering candles, too stunned and too scared to move.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
One by one, Elizabeth stopped doing the things she loved. She stopped accepting visitors. She no longer went out of the house. She lost interest in the garden and stopped arranging vases of flowers. She was disinterested in sex. Finally, Adam stopped approaching her. He continued his frustrating search for answers, bringing in doctor after doctor to examine her. With great apprehension, he even took her back to the hospital, but after a battery of painful tests that left Elizabeth exhausted, doctors still could find no physical cause.
“Please take me home, Adam,” Elizabeth pleaded. Seeing the fear in her eyes, Adam agreed.
He read whatever he could find on depression, and became convinced that he had allowed Elizabeth to unwittingly fall into a habit of drug abuse that was now affecting her mind.
For the first time in his life, Adam was afraid. He hired a team of private nurses to monitor Elizabeth’s medication, and he drastically curtailed his work hours.
But as summer approached, Elizabeth’s condition began to deteriorate at an alarming rate. Adam watched in helpless horror as his wife slipped away from reality and into a world of confusion and physical instability. It came to the point where Adam did not know what to expect. One moment she was withdrawn, the next she was temperamental. Most of the time, however, she hovered in a drugged state of apathy. Finally, Adam had a neurological specialist flown in from Europe. The doctor examined Elizabeth then met with Adam in his study.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the doctor told Adam. “Your wife seems to have all the symptoms of senility.”
“That’s impossible,” Adam said. “She’s not even forty-two years old.” After he had recovered from his horror, he added, “So what can be done to help her?”
The doctor shook his head. “To my knowledge, nothing, Mr. Bryant. We just don’t know enough about how the mind works, or why it suddenly stops working.”
Adam stared at the man then looked away.
The doctor began to write out a prescription. “She could become violent,” he said. “I suggest you have these sedatives on hand just in case.” He held out the form, but Adam did not take it, so he set it on the desk between them.
Adam looked up vacantly, suddenly grasping the doctor’s words. “Violent?” he whispered in disbelief. “There’s got to be something...more that I can do.”
The doctor paused. “It will get worse, Mr. Bryant. You should think about a hospital —-”
“A hospital? You mean have her committed? I won’t do that! Never!”
The doctor stared at Adam then nodded. He picked up his bag and the prescription form. “I’ll have this filled and delivered. I’ll let myself out.”
He left, leaving Adam sitting alone in the study, staring at the walls.
In the next week, Elizabeth began to grow agitated. But Adam could not bring himself to give her the sedatives. To do so, he thought, would be a final admission of defeat. A part of him clung to the belief that somehow, through the sheer force of his love, he could pull her back from the brink of total collapse. He was consumed with a silent raging sense of impotency. For the first time in his life, he had encountered something he could not overcome.
One night, Adam awoke to see Elizabeth standing over him in the dark holding a pair of scissors. He managed to get the scissors away from her and get her back to bed. He found the sedatives the doctor had sent and gave her one. The next day, he moved to another bedroom.
After that, he had to use the sedatives to keep Elizabeth pacified. She lived in a narcotic stupor most of the time, a series of nurses looking to her grooming needs. Adam went to the newspaper office as little as possible, trusting Josh to act as liaison to his editors. He spent much his time sitting by her bedside, holding her hand, talking gently to her, still trying to break through the fog that was growing denser around her every day.
He fought with his guilt, blaming himself for all the times he had not been there for her. But he knew that guilt would not help Elizabeth now. The only thing that mattered was that he be there for her. In his anguish, he did not see that someone else needed him even more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kellen sat on the bottom step of the staircase, staring at her patent leather shoes. She had just come from her mother’s room but the nurse had sent her away, just as she always did now. Kellen had not been allowed to see her mother for a month, and no one would tell her why.
“Just be a good, brave little girl,” Hildie told her brusquely, with tearful eyes. “That’s the best thing you can do for your mother now.”
So she tried. But it was so hard. If she could see her mother maybe she could help her somehow. Bring her soup or read her a story. She was sure she could make her feel better. If only she could see her.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and she jumped up to answer it, glad
to see anyone who might be there. She opened the door, and her face fell slightly when she saw Josh.
“Oh, come on in, Mr. Hillman,” she said. Then she smiled as she saw someone else coming up the walk. “Stephen!” she called out and ran to greet him.
“Hey, Squirt,” Stephen said. “How you doing?”
“I’m so glad you came over!” she said.
“I thought maybe you could use some help with your homework,” Stephen said.
She took his hand and pulled him through the door. “I sure can. Come on up to my room.”
“Is it all right, Dad?” Stephen asked Josh.
“Go ahead. I’ll come get you in an hour or so,” Josh said, heading for the study.
Kellen followed Stephen up the staircase. At fourteen, Stephen was a quiet boy, with a mop of sandy brown hair and serious hazel eyes. He had befriended Kellen when she was just six, treating her like a younger sister, helping her with her schoolwork, playing games with her, teaching her to ride.
“How’s your mother?” Stephen asked when they were in Kellen’s room.
Kellen shrugged and looked away quickly. “I dunno,” she said. “They won’t let me even see her anymore.”
Stephen sat down on the bed, not knowing what to say in comfort. “Okay, so what will it be today,” he said to change the subject. "Arithmetic? Science?”
Kellen picked up a schoolbook and plopped down on the bed next to Stephen. “Geography,” she said.
“What about that essay you had to write?”
“Finished it. I don’t need any help with English.”
Stephen began to leaf through the textbook she had given him. “So why geography then? You having trouble?”
“No, I just feel like it today,” she said with a sigh. She crossed her legs under her, resting her hands under her chin. “I like to read about places that are far away. I like to imagine I’m there.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere,” she said quietly.
Stephen wished there was something he could do. But he didn’t know what. As an only child, he had never had the advantage of having someone close to his age to talk to and expressing things were never easy for him.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Kellen,” he said. “I just know it will.”
She looked up at him with despondent, hopeful eyes.
“You can always come and talk to me if you need to,” he added. “You know, if you need someone.”
Her eyes overflowed and she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his sweater, crying. The geography book fell to the floor and Stephen just sat there stunned, feeling terrible but unsure what to say or do. Finally, he just brought up one arm and patted her with what he hoped was reassurance.
He had seen her cry before, when she skinned her knee or fell off a horse but never like this. It made him want to cry. But he didn’t. He was fourteen, after all, and something more was surely expected from him. He had to be strong for her right now.
“Don’t worry, Kellen,” he repeated. “It’ll be all right.
Down in the study, Adam and Josh sat across from each other in silence. Josh closed the folder of papers, unable to get Adam to concentrate on them. He reached across the desk to turn on a lamp. The light made Adam blink, and Josh could see clearly now how drawn with grief his friend’s face was.
“I have some bad news,” Josh said.
Adam stared out the window.
“Hank turned in his resignation this morning.” Josh waited for a response. “Adam, did you hear what I said?”
“Sure, sure...Hank quit.”
Adam’s eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and he was unshaven. Josh took a deep breath. “Adam, you can’t go on like this,” he said. “You’re killing yourself.”
Adam didn’t respond.
“Well, if you don’t care about yourself, then you should care about what’s happening to your newspapers,” Josh said. “Things are falling apart.”
“The newspapers will survive.”
“Not without you. For eight months now, you’ve been sitting in this house —-”
“The papers will survive!”
Josh sighed. “I’m sorry, Adam. I know what you’ve been going through.” He paused. “I’m worried about you. You’re taking too much on your own shoulders. You’ve done all you can.”
Adam stared out the window. “No, there’s got to be something I can do.”
“It’s in God’s hands,” Josh said.
“God’s hands,” Adam said softly. He looked at Josh, his face slack. “God abandoned her. But I won’t. I won’t just sit by and -—” His voice broke slightly. “And watch her mind slip away.”
“Adam, Elizabeth needs more help than you can give her,” Josh said. “She needs to be in a hospital.”
“No,” Adam said. “I won’t have her locked away like some animal.”
“Adam, you’ve got to listen—”
“No! No hospital!”
“Adam —-”
“Leave me alone!” Adam ran his hands over his eyes. “Please, Josh,” he added quietly. “Maybe you better leave.”
Josh gathered some papers and left. Adam heard the door close and the sound of Josh’s car starting up outside. He stayed in the study until it was dark then he rose and went out into the foyer. At the bottom of the staircase, he paused looking up into the shadows. There was one light on upstairs. He slowly went up.
He started to go to his own room, but then turned and paused just outside the closed door of Elizabeth’s room. The nurse, seeing him from the open door of her own room across the hall, went to him.
“She’s been asleep all day, Mr. Bryant,” she said. “She didn’t even wake up long enough for me to give her the medication.”
Adam nodded. “I’m just going to say good night to her,” he said.
He went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. As usual, Elizabeth was lying in the bed, propped up by pillows, her eyes closed, her hands clasped together and folded over her chest. Adam sat down on the side of the bed. He had given up expecting a response; he just wanted to sit there and look at her. Even now, in her depleted health, she still looked beautiful. Her face was too thin and gray, but her long red hair, carefully maintained by the nurses, was as glorious as it had always been. He reached up to stroke it.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed and her eyes fluttered open. It didn’t surprise him. She would often wake up but her eyes always had a faraway look, as if she were struggling to figure out who the stranger was sitting by her side.
She stared at him and Adam realized that she looked different tonight. The opaqueness was gone. Her fingers were moving and Adam saw that she was clutching the little jade cat that usually sat on her bedside table.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Hold me.”
There were tears in her eyes, and Adam saw in them, for one precious moment, a reflection of his wife. He drew her into his arms.
“Hold me,” she whispered. “Hold me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It had been an aberration. That one moment of lucidity was gone as quickly as it had come, and Elizabeth slipped back into her twilight world.
During the next three days, she awoke only once and began to call out unintelligible words and nonsensical sentences. Adam stood outside her closed door with his eyes closed, listening to her rantings and the gentle ministrations of the nurse.
Late one night when Adam went downstairs, he saw Kellen sitting on the sofa in her white bathrobe, staring at nothing. He was exhausted and his first instinct was to call Hildie to take her up to bed, but he knew he had waited far too long to face Kellen. He went over and sat down next to her. Her face was tear-streaked but her eyes were dry.
“Are you all right, Lil’bit?” he asked.
She just sat there without looking at him.
“I think we should have a talk.”
“About Mommy,” Kellen said flatly.
“Yes.”
Finally, Kellen turned to meet his eyes. “She’s going to die, isn’t she.”
Adam felt the last breath of energy leave his body. He nodded numbly.
Kellen stared at him, unblinking. “Why can’t I see her?” she asked.
“Kellen, she —-”
There was a sound in the foyer, and they both turned. Elizabeth was standing on the bottom step, holding onto the balustrade to steady herself, her bare feet visible beneath her white nightgown. Her hair was a tangle around her white face, and her eyes were wide with fright as they darted around the foyer. She seemed to be desperately looking for something, and finally her gaze fell beseechingly on Adam and Kellen, who both sat in frozen shock.
“Elizabeth,” Adam whispered, rising.
She stared at him. Her mouth moved, as if she wanted to say something but she couldn’t. Tears began to fall down her cheeks.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
Before Adam could move, Kellen swept by him and went to Elizabeth’s side. Elizabeth stared at her blankly but Kellen didn’t seem to notice that her mother didn’t recognize her.
“I’ll help you back upstairs, Mommy,” she said.
Elizabeth pulled back slightly but Kellen took her hand. “Once there was a little girl who was afraid to go to bed,” Kellen said softly, pointing to the carved frowning face in the balustrade. “And her face looked like this. An evil fairy came along one day and turned her into wood.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were still wide with fear, but she was listening to Kellen’s small voice. Adam hung back, waiting.
“But then the good fairy came along and told the girl she could break the spell if she’d smile and be brave...”
Somehow, Kellen had turned Elizabeth around and was very slowly leading her by the hand back up the stairs. “So the girl smiled, and she started floating up the stairs.”
They had reached the first landing, and Adam stood below, unable to move. Finally, the nurse appeared and helped Kellen take Elizabeth up the rest of the way. Adam watched them until the three of them were nothing but slowly retreating white blurs, misshapen by his tears.
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