Star Fallen Lover

by Lakes, Lynde

  The driver dropped the doctor at her condo in the city. She briefly touched Darli’s hand and told her the driver would take her on to her accommodations and she would see her in the morning.

  The drive to the bed and breakfast was long and tiring, up winding mountain roads with nothing to see but blackness. The vibration of the wheels on the road lulled her into a sleepy trance. She had been told her accommodation was near the mental hospital and Cortz. So close and yet so far away. A whole long night away….

  As the driver pulled into the driveway, the headlights picked up a shadowy image of a quaint Tudor-style home nestled between two huge trees. The heavy smell of pine wafted on the breeze.

  The owner of the bed and breakfast, Roseanne, showed her to a spacious room. She explained about the early buffet breakfast and gave directions to the restrooms, then left. A light fragrance of lilac hung in the air. The low setting of the lamp cast lacy shadows over the rosebud wallpaper. She placed her suitcase on the low chest at the end of the bed. After a long plane and car ride, she felt too exhausted to unpack.

  She grabbed a toothbrush and headed for the bathroom. She freshened up, quickly returned to her room, and turned down the snowy chenille spread and climbed into the double bed. The sheets felt crisp and welcoming. She turned on her side and closed her eyes. The furnace came on and off in about fifteen minute intervals throughout the night. A dog barked in the distance. A toilet flushed. Floorboards creaked in the outside hallway as someone passed by. She punched her pillow and changed positions for the fifth time. Her restlessness rumpled and twisted the bedding.

  She sighed. It was hard to believe Cortz was really a man named Greg who’d been married before with twin sons. Two beautiful boys, resembling him, lost to tragedy. Her throat tightened. And he must have loved his wife very much. No wonder he wanted to block it all out.

  Probably she was foolish to hope this trip would be a new beginning for them. She noticed that the furnace had a certain rhythm. Once she got used to it, it was sort of soothing. As the sun came up, she wondered if she’d slept at all. Her body ached and her eyes stung.

  She showered, then dressed with care in a tailored white skirt, white high heeled pumps, and an emerald green sweater. Cortz had said the rich green emphasized her eyes. Darli hooked the latch on the simple pearl necklace and poked the posts of the matching earrings into her ears. Glancing once more into the mirror lifted her spirits. An eager glow masked all signs of weariness. Her waist-length hair had a healthy sheen and lay in graceful waves. She looked pretty much like she had the last time he’d seen her. Let me trigger his memory. She crossed her fingers.

  After breakfast, Darli emerged into the bright California sun and climbed into a waiting station wagon with Windscape Knolls Sanitarium imprinted on the door. The driver introduced himself as Jones and said he’d been sent to pick her up.

  After a short ride around sharp hairpin curves, Jones turned onto a narrow stretch of asphalt that extended beyond two massive wrought iron gates. He opened the gates electronically and followed a long, winding lane that ended at a parking area. Beyond the area lay a cluster of low, vine-covered buildings surrounded by concrete breezeways.

  Jones escorted Darli to Doctor Steina’s office and introduced her to the secretary who quickly ushered her into a large private office that opened onto a rose garden.

  “Darli, you’re just in time,” Dr. Steina said. Her blue eyes sparkled with warmth as she rose from her file-cluttered desk and shook Darli’s hand. “Greg will be here any minute.”

  Darli’s heart raced. She wiped her moist palms on a tissue. He had amnesia. He wouldn’t even know her. She bit the corner of her lip. Coming here was a mistake.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Cortz finished his daily four-mile jog around the track early, then showered. He noticed that the attendants had to scrape the faces of the other patient’s in the shower room with a sharp device they called a razor. They seemed amused that he had no hair on his body. He was happy about the hairlessness; it saved time to not have to shave.

  He dressed quickly and thirty minutes later, he sat on the concrete bench furthest from the main buildings. Still, he couldn’t get far enough away to fool himself. He spanned a wide view of the acres of lush green manicured grounds, trying to lull himself into a false perception of freedom. But this was no park. He was trapped within the confines of a private mental hospital.

  The early morning coolness had warmed quickly. Cortz inhaled air heavy with the smell of freshly mown grass and listened to the drone of a lawn mower somewhere in the distance. How could his senses be so sharp when he had no awareness of his past? It seemed with the present in such tight focus the past shouldn’t be blank.

  A loudly buzzing bee made a figure-eight loop near his lower leg, and he waved it away. His gaze fell on the jagged scar around his ankle that was a constant reminder of an unknown past.

  A hook-nosed old man with a leathery face approached and without any greeting sat down at the other end of the bench and opened a newspaper. Cortz noticed the deliberate way the man turned the pages while repeatedly humming the same three notes. Suddenly, the old man closed the paper, painstakingly folded it back to its original delivery condition and placed it at his side, straightening it with his finger until it was parallel with his hips. He began picking at imagined lint on his drab institution clothes. As he threw the nothingness to the wind, his head turned toward Cortz. His eyes widened. “I thought I was alone.” His voice had an agitated edge. A scarlet flush crept up his neck. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I’ve been here a while,” Cortz said. “Does my presence bother you?”

  “Yeah. This is my bench!” To punctuate his ownership, he picked up the newspaper and slapped it so hard against the concrete that the paper split.

  “I’m sorry.” Cortz looked around. “I’ll move to one of the other benches.” He started to get up.

  “Wait!” The old man thrust his arm in front of Cortz. “I’ve decided to allow you to share it with me.” A small lopsided grin played at his lips. He bowed slightly, made a courtly gesture with his hand and motioned to his bench. “You must admit this is the finest, most royal bench around.”

  “It’s under the largest shade tree.” Cortz’s gaze trailed upwards into the branches. The leaves, no longer totally green, were turning yellow, brown, and in the shade, they took on the illusion of black. The sun cut through a single bare section of the otherwise heavily foliaged tree, slanting a comfortable warmth onto Cortz’s back. It projected his shadow along with the other man’s almost in front of them.

  “Greg…that’s what they call you, true?”

  “Right. And I’ve heard them call you Hap.”

  “My proper title is Emperor Rudolf of Hapsburg, but I’ll permit you to call me Hap.”

  “Great. And you may call me Greg.”

  In the distance, Cortz spotted the motorized four-passenger cart driven by Jones. Was the pesky muscle-bound attendant coming for Hap or him? He felt like hiding. “Good morning, Jones,” he said, when the cart stopped in front of them. He’d learned that the assistants kept a behavior chart and patients received positive points if they acted cheerful.

  “Hop on, Greg,” Jones said. “You have company.”

  To avoid a hassle in front of his new friend, Cortz climbed into the cart. It was probably the woman who claimed to be his sister. He liked her, but grew tired of her constantly pushing him to remember.

  “Can I hitch a ride?” Hap asked.

  Jones laughed. “Sure. Why not?”

  ****

  It was him! Darli’s heart jumped into her throat. He wore a drab gray hospital garb that looked like prison issue. As he entered the room, his steps on the thick carpet fell as silent as a whisper and not nearly as confident as they were the first time they’d met. She swallowed and moistened her lips, struggling against the overwhelming desire to run into his arms.

  His gaze darted over her, pausing only when he lo
oked into her face.

  Please, remember me, she silently begged while searching his familiar dark, almost black eyes. Please let that ruby glint of emotion be recognition.

  “You’re not my sister.” His low rumble carried curiosity but no regret. He was well-muscled and fit looking but a bit thinner now, which emphasized his height.

  “But you do recognize me, don’t you?” she asked, softly.

  The glints in his eyes brightened, intensified, then dulled. “I want to,” he said. “I really want to.”

  She had feared his failure to recall, yet raw, devastating disappointment stabbed into her heart. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said softly, past the ache in her throat. “I’ll help you to remember.”

  “I’m tired of people pushing me to remember,” he said, and then turned and ran from the room.

  Her heart sank. It was a good thing she hadn’t unpacked, she thought with tears streaming down her cheeks. God, what was wrong with her? She wasn’t a crier, yet lately tears frequently pushed at the back of her eyes. She didn’t need all this negative emotion. She had to find Jones and persuade him to take her back to the motel to get her things. But then Cortz’s words replayed in her mind: “I want to. I really want to,” he had said. That was a cry for help if she’d ever heard one. She wiped away her tears and squared her shoulders. He wasn’t driving her away so easily. She needed a plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The plump, motherly-looking waitress placed steaming coffee in front of Darli and Greg’s sister, Mona. Soft country music about a troubled love drifted from a speaker hung at the corner of the open-beamed ceiling. A sign over the soda fountain read HOME COOKING. The knotty pine walls, red checkered table cloths and matching curtains gave the cafe a quaint look. Darli twisted the cloth napkin in her lap. The atmosphere should have been relaxing, but even inhaling the tantalizing aroma of baking apple pie didn’t relieve the tension in her shoulder blades.

  When Mona invited her to lunch, she had wished there was a graceful way to delay their meeting. With jet lag, sleeplessness, and the stress of the first meeting with Greg taking its toll, she’d been too tense for this.

  Mona seemed anxious, too. Darli tried not to stare at her. But she couldn’t help herself. Mona’s chestnut shoulder-length hair framed her face and emphasized her thickly lashed brown eyes, eyes so like Greg’s…minus the ruby glow.

  “Dr. Steina was away from her desk when I called,” Mona said, stirring cream into her coffee with trembling hands. “Did Greg remember you?”

  “I thought I saw a flicker of recognition before he ran out of the room. Dr. Steina said it was an encouraging sign.”

  “Good. I hate to consider the final option.”

  Darli’s breath caught. “Final option?”

  “Electroshock therapy.”

  A haggard image of Darli’s Uncle Roy flashed into her mind. “You can’t be considering that?” Her stomach knotted.

  Mona smoothed the sleeve of her white Irish wool jacket. “Procedures over the years have improved.” Mona twisted her diamond-studded wedding band. “There’s minimal risk now.”

  “Any risk is too much. Electroshock eliminates memory rather than restoring it. It’s dangerous, inhuman!” Darli felt a pressure in her chest. She was only ten when her favorite uncle went into the hospital, but she’d heard the talk. “My uncle was given electroshock treatments. He died behind institution walls after spending years there, a mindless vegetable.” She leveled her gaze at Mona. “With all the debate about such treatments, how could you even consider it?” She should have been more diplomatic, but she was too upset.

  The waitress passed the table on the run. “Be back in a sec with more coffee,” she said cheerily.

  “I’ve consulted a specialist,” Mona said in a defensive tone. “Dr. Gold. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He feels that a low voltage treatment could trigger Greg’s memory.”

  Darli looked out the picture window next to their table. Across the highway, acres of stately pine trees bent with the breeze. That was one of nature’s secrets, flexibility. But this was something she couldn’t be flexible about. “Isn’t he the one who wrote that controversial book, Shock and Sanity?”

  “New concepts are often controversial.”

  “But electroshock is a holdover from the dark ages. Many doctors are against it.”

  “Current studies from Germany and Switzerland back up Dr. Gold’s theories. He doesn’t suggest it for everyone, but he met with Greg and believes in his case electroshock is viable.”

  “What did Dr. Steina say?” Darli needed someone in her corner.

  “She’s not sure that it’s the right alternative for Greg, but Dr. Gold thinks she’s being overly cautious.”

  “Perhaps this Dr. Gold isn’t cautious enough.”

  “I’m not going on his word alone,” Mona said. “There were other doctors. And I’ve read everything on shock therapy that I could get my hands on. And if Greg doesn’t show improvement soon…” She looked down a moment. “Greg has been hospitalized for almost six months. He can’t be allowed to vegetate the rest of his life.” Suddenly moisture welled in Mona’s eyes and her voice trembled, “He doesn’t even know me.” She closed her eyes for a second then bit her lower lip. “I want my brother back.” Mona dabbed at her eyes with the checkered cloth napkin.

  Darli patted Mona’s hand and fought to blink back her own tears. “I know, I know.”

  “There are other considerations besides wanting my brother back, you know.” Mona’s voice wavered, revealing her struggle with her emotions.

  Darli felt sympathy for Mona’s pain, but it didn’t change her position. She wanted to scream that no outside factors would be worth the risk. But feeling a strong need to know everything she was up against, she asked softly, “What considerations?”

  “Harris Inventions stockholders wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing that the president of the company is in a mental institution, regardless of the reason. The longer he’s in there the greater the chance that someone will find out.”

  “I see.” Darli clenched her jaw to keep from exploding. She crumpled her napkin into a tight ball. How could Mona let business be a consideration? Darli knew she had to do something. But how could she prevent this? Relatives had all the rights.

  The waitress brought their salads. Darli pushed tomatoes and a few shreds of lettuce from the center of the bowl. She couldn’t eat now. It would be impossible to get food past the constriction in her throat. She sipped the coffee and wished it were hotter, hot enough to scald away the ache.

  Mona looked miserable. “It isn’t just me,” she said, “Greg himself is growing more frustrated and impatient. That’s why I decided to bring you here. We need a miracle. I’ve been afraid for Greg, afraid his depression was getting out of control again.”

  “But, he’s functioning.”

  Mona sat back and pushed her salad away. There was no anger in her eyes, just the look of a wounded deer. “You’ve only been here a short time. You didn’t see the pain Greg went through when he lost his family. It left him devastated. We all feared he might take his own life.”

  Darli gasped. Suicide had never occurred to her. She couldn’t fail. She had to work fast. “Greg won’t need those treatments, Mona. I’ll make him remember. You’ll see!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  By the time Darli returned to her room, the knots in her stomach felt like boulders. Much more was at stake than she’d first imagined. She needed a strategy. Every action had to be calculated, including her choice of clothing. She glanced into the open closet at the white dress hanging there, the one she’d worn the last night she was with Cortz. It had to trigger his memory. She couldn’t let anyone give him shock treatments.

  At nine thirty, Darli climbed into bed. But it was impossible to block out the replay of the stressful meeting with Cortz and her unsettling talk with Mona. Reading didn’t help. In desperation, she took one of the pills the doctor had
given her. She switched off the light and wriggled down into the covers. The sound of the furnace coming on and off faded.

  In the dim light, a man was making love to her. His face was masked, and she wanted to rip away the disguise. Suddenly men grabbed him and strapped him to a table. Electrical arcs struck all around him. Her heart raced, and her pajamas dampened with perspiration. She fought tangled sheets, but remained trapped in the twisted snare. The man’s mask fell away. “Cortz!” she screamed.

  ****

  Cortz rose from the chair in front of Dr. Steina desk, paced back and forth, then leaned against the frame of the open French doors that led to the patio. He stared out at the roses for a moment, then turned back to the doctor. “Do you think my dream about the colorless people means anything? They were shouting, ‘come back, come back,’ but I was lost in blackness.”

  The doctor remained silent, slowly rolling her pen between her fingers.

  “Well, do you?” When she still didn’t speak, he added, “Remember the other dreams I told you about? Those same colorless people refused to speak English yet I understood them? When I wake up I feel trapped.”

  The doctor’s gaze remained compassionate. She scribbled something into the file. “At night the mind often plays out its own interpretation of the bombardment of daytime stimuli,” she said. “I think at this point of therapy it would be best if you avoid watching sci-fi or horror stories on television.”

  Cortz frowned. After many sessions, he had learned that when he discussed his haunting dreams of another world, the doctor and Mona grew impatient with his progress. Needing to please, he quit telling about those dreams, but the one last night was so vivid he felt compelled to discuss it. It had been a mistake. The doctor only wanted to talk about what he felt when he saw Darli. But he wasn’t ready to discuss how deeply the golden-haired beauty had stirred him. He knew to get well he had to be open, but what he’d felt for her was too private, too sexual. “I’m trying to remember, Dr. Steina.”