Passage. Part 39

Officer Right, here I come!"

Joanna grinned and hit "delete" and "next message."

"Hi, this is Kerri Jakes. Do I remember the name of our high school English textbook? Are you kidding? I barely remember high school. What do you need to know for? Don't tell me you didn't really graduate and they're making you take senior English over. Anyway, no, I don't remember the name of the book, and the only one I remember being in second period was Ricky Inman because I had this awful crush on him, and I used to hang around Mr. Briarley's door before third period, waiting for him to come out."

Kerri was right. She didn't remember high school. Joanna hit "next message." "This is Elspeth Haighton. I'm trying to reach Dr. Lander. The session we set up won't work. I have a Junior Leaguemeeting that day. Please call me and reschedule."

Fat chance, Joanna thought, but she dialed Mrs. Haighton's number. It was busy. How can it be busy? Joanna thought, she's never home, and went back to listening to messages.

There were three in a row from Mr. Mandrake, all beginning, "You never answer your pages, Dr. Lander," and wanting to talk to her about some astonis.h.i.+ng new details Mrs. Davenport had remembered, "which are so vivid and authentic that they cannot fail to convince you that what is being experienced during the NDE is, in fact, real."

But it's not, Joanna thought, even though he's right about the details being vivid and authentic.

She could see the lace insets on the young woman's nightgown, the frightened expression on her face, the filigreed light sconces in the pa.s.sage. But it wasn't the actual t.i.tanic, in spite of the reality of the vision. It was something else.

"...not only Mrs. Davenport's uncle Alvin, but the spirits of Julius Caesar and Joan of Arc, waiting to welcome her to the Other Side," Mr. Mandrake was saying.

Joanna erased him, and went on through the rest of the messages, jotting them down and promptly forgetting them, except the one from Mr. Wojakowski, who had ostensibly called to tell her the hearing research was going to last eight weeks and after that he'd be available for the project again, but really to tell her the story of the Yorktown's sinking and the men lining their shoes up along the deck all over again. That one she didn't jot down. She deleted it and hit "next message,"

wondering how long before she got to the end of the messages.

"This is Kit Gardiner. I'm trying to reach Joanna Lander," Kit's voice said. "I think I've found the book."

In the background, Mr. Briarley's voice said, "Joanna? Bride," and then he must have moved away from the phone because Joanna only caught part of what he said. "-wasn't... the key..."

"It's blue with gold lettering, and it's called Voyages and Voices," Kit continued. "Does that ring a bell?"

It didn't, but the t.i.tle did begin with a V, like Joanna had remembered.

"I'm pretty sure it's the right one. It has a s.h.i.+p on the cover. Uncle Pat," Kit dropped her voice, "usually takes a nap from eleven to one, so that would be a good time."

" 'The bride hath paced into the hall,' " Mr. Briarley's voice said. " 'Red as a rose is she.' Have you seen my grade book, Kit?"

"I'd better go," Kit said. " 'Bye." The machine beeped the end of the message.

Joanna glanced at her watch. Eleven-thirty. She grabbed up her bag, keys, and coat and went up to the lab. Richard was at the console, his chin in his hand, staring at scans. "I have something I need to check on," she said. "I'll be back by one."

He nodded without turning around, and she went out and down to the elevator. "Wait!" Richardcalled, sprinting after her, and she thought, watching him come toward her, He really is cute. "I wanted to talk to you before Tish gets here. I don't think we should talk about the t.i.tanic in front of her. If you see the t.i.tanic, which I don't think you will," he said. "I'm increasing the dosage, which should change the temporal-lobe stimuli, particularly the initial stimulus, and I think it will produce a totally different L+R pattern."

"But just in case I do see it, you want me to record my account in my office."

"Or on the other side of the lab. I know you need to record it as soon as possible after the NDE," he said and looked sheepish. "It's not that I think Tish would go tell Mr. Mandrake, but-"

"Loose lips sink s.h.i.+ps," Joanna said.

"In this case, literally," Richard said, grinning. "You said you'll be back by one?"

Joanna nodded.

"Great," he said, starting back to the lab. "Did you have a chance to look at those multiple NDEs?"

"Not yet," she said, pus.h.i.+ng the "down" b.u.t.ton. "I'll start them as soon as I get back. Oh, and Mrs. Haighton called. She can't come Thursday."

"I knew it was too good to be true," he said. "See you at one." He nodded, waving good-bye to her over his shoulder. The elevator opened. Joanna stepped in. And found herself face to face with Vielle. She was in her scrubs and surgical cap and was wearing sterile booties over her shoes.

This is what you get for not taking the back way, Joanna thought. "Vielle, what are you doing up here?" she said. "You haven't had another incident, have you?"

"Incident?"

"Yes, you know, crazy druggie on rogue trying to stab people. Like the last incident, which you neglected to tell me about. Vielle, you have got to transfer out of-"

"I know, I know," Vielle said, waving her hand dismissively. "You'll have to lecture me some other time. I'm on break. I have to get back, and I came up here to tell you three things. Are you going down?" she asked, looking at Joanna's coat and bag.

She obviously was. "Yes," she said and pushed "G." "What three things?"

"One," Vielle said, "tomorrow night will work for Dish Night if it will work for you and Richard.

Two, Dr. Jamison was down in the ER the other day-she's working with one of the interns on some project-and you don't have anything to worry about. She's sixty if she's a day. And three, I found out what you asked me about."

"About Dr. Jamison?" Joanna said, confused.

"No, about the movie. You asked me if there was a scene in it with people out on deck after theengines stopped? There's not. There's a scene where people are sticking their heads out of their cabins and the stewards are telling them to go up to the Boat Deck and there's another scene where Kate Winslet's mother and her creepy fiance are standing around in lifejackets next to the Grand Staircase waiting for their lifeboat to be called."

"But I thought you said your meeting went till eleven-thirty," Joanna said, confused. Vielle surely hadn't gone out after the meeting and rented the video.

"It did," Vielle said. "I would've called you last night and told you, but it was so late. There's a scene out on deck where pa.s.sengers are playing with pieces of ice, and one where they're letting the steam off, and it's so deafening n.o.body can hear anything, but Heidi says she doesn't remember anything with people just standing around not knowing what happened."

"Heidi?" Joanna said sharply.

"Yeah, during one of the potty breaks at the meeting I saw Heidi Schlagel. She's an LPN, works graveyard, but she used to work the three-to-eleven, and she has the world's biggest crush on Leonardo DiCaprio. She used to drive us all crazy talking about t.i.tanic. She saw it about fifty times.

I figured if anybody knew the answer to your question, it'd be Heidi, and she did," Vielle said, smiling, and obviously pleased at having been so clever.

"I asked you to rent the video," Joanna said, glancing anxiously at the floor indicator, hoping no one got on in the middle of this.

"I know," Vielle said, looking surprised, "but I knew I wouldn't be able to watch it till tonight, and you sounded like you needed it right away."

If Mr. Mandrake got hold of this-"I told you not to tell anyone."

Vielle frowned. "I didn't tell her what I wanted it for. I didn't even mention your name. She thinks I'm the one who wanted to know."

"But what if she saw you talking to me?"

"What?" Vielle said, amazement in her voice. "You sound completely paranoid. I told you, Heidi works graveyard, and even if she did hear us, she wouldn't think anything about it. She a.s.sumes everyone spends their time discussing t.i.tanic. When I told her I had a question about it, I had to listen to a whole spiel on how wonderful Leo," she said the word in a schoolgirl squeal, "was in The Beach, and how the critics don't appreciate him, before I even got to ask it. And after I got my answer, she spent the rest of the break telling me how the Grand Staircase was an exact replica of the one on the t.i.tanic, clock and skylight and all. Trust me, I don't think she even remembered I'd asked a question, she was so glad to find somebody who'd let her talk about it."

I hope so, Joanna thought, but how many people had heard them talking? Gossip General- "I don't understand why a bet between you and Richard has to be a state secret anyway, but if you're worried about it, I can ask Heidi not to say anything about-"

"No!" Joanna said. If Heidi wasn't suspicious, this would definitely make her suspicious, and ifshe already was, it would make it worse. "No, that's okay, it doesn't matter," she said, trying to sound casual. "I'm just worried that now every time you see her you'll be subjected to how wonderful Leo is." She tried to smile. "Did you make any headway with Officer Right at the meeting?"

"I didn't get a chance to," Vielle said. "I'd been kind of hoping you wouldn't bring my car back from wherever you went, and I could talk him into giving me a ride home. Speaking of which, where did you take off to in such a hurry?"

"So my bringing your car back ruined your plan?" Joanna asked. "If I'd known-"

"It wasn't your fault. He left before the break. Where did you go?" The elevator opened on the ground floor. "And where are you going now?"

"I've got an errand to run," Joanna said. And the last thing she wanted to do was walk all the way to the ER with Vielle,' on her way to the parking lot, and give her a chance to grill her. "I just remembered, I wanted second," Joanna said, pressing "two." "Tomorrow's fine for Dish Night for me," she said, wis.h.i.+ng the door would close. "I'll ask Richard if he can come."

Vielle stopped the closing door with her hand. "Are you all right? Yesterday you-"

"I'm fine," Joanna said. "Just awfully busy. There've been so many NDEs-"

"Is that where you went in such a hurry yesterday? To interview an NDEer?" Vielle asked, and the door alarm began, blessedly, to buzz.

"Is it your turn or mine to rent the movies?" Joanna shouted over the sound.

"Yours," Vielle said and reluctantly let go of the door. "You still haven't-"

The door began to close. "I'll try to get something with Denzel Was.h.i.+ngton in it. What was the one about the Civil War called?"

"Glory."

"Glory," Joanna said and watched the door shut in Vielle's worried face.

24.

"Wait till I have finished my problem."

-Last words of Archimedes, to the Roman soldier who ordered him to follow him.

The streets were nearly as empty of traffic as they had been the night before. Joanna made it over to Mr. Briarley's in less than fifteen minutes. Now, if only the book Kit had found was it.It wasn't. She knew as soon as Kit, barefoot and wearing a white spaghetti-strap top and jeans, led her into the library, explaining in a hushed voice, "Uncle Pat just lay down," and showed her the book.

It should have been the right one. It had a blue cover, gold lettering, a graceful clipper s.h.i.+p in full sail, its prow cutting sharply through blue-green waves, everything Joanna had described. But it wasn't the book.

"It wasn't a clipper s.h.i.+p." Joanna squinted at the cover. "It was one of those s.h.i.+ps like Sir Francis Drake had, a caravel," she said, the word suddenly coming to her from somewhere deep in long-term memory, "and it was smaller. I'm sorry." She shook her head apologetically. "It's exactly what I told you, I know."

"If it's not the right one, it's not the right one," Kit said philosophically. She waved her hand around at the rows of books lining the library. "I have only just begun to look. The book was smaller?" she asked, pointing at Voyages and Voices.

"No, the book's the right size, but I remember the picture as smaller."

"What about the color? Was it light or dark blue?"

"Dark, I think," Joanna said. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry I'm being so vague. I'd know it if I saw it."

Kit nodded, putting the book back on the shelf. "I called the high school this morning on the off-chance they were still using the same book in their English cla.s.ses, but I couldn't get them to give me any information. You'd have thought I was trying to steal highly cla.s.sified doc.u.ments or something."

Joanna nodded, remembering the woman in the office. "I didn't mean for you to go to all this trouble."

"Oh, I don't mind," Kit said cheerfully. "It gives me something to think about besides-it's kind of fun," she amended, "a sort of treasure hunt."

"Well, I really appreciate it," Joanna said, moving toward the door. "And if I remember anything more specific, I'll call you."

"Oh, you're not leaving yet, are you?" Kit said, and sounded just like Maisie. "I was hoping you'd have time to stay for a cup of tea."

Joanna glanced at her watch. "I have to be back by one," she said doubtfully.

"It'll only take a minute to heat up the water," Kit said, leading the way down the hall past the stairs to the kitchen. "I made cookies this-oh, no!"

"What is it?" Joanna said, trying to see past Kit into the kitchen.

"I thought he was asleep," Kit said as if she hadn't heard Joanna and hurried back past her through the hall and up the stairs. "Excuse me a minute. I'll be right back."Joanna looked into the kitchen, afraid of what she might see. An empty plate with some crumbs sat on the table. Next to it was a skillet and two saucepans, and, on the red-and-white tiled floor, more pans and lids and m.u.f.fin tins, cookie sheets, pie tins, and a big roasting pan.

Kit pattered back down the stairs. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice matter-of-fact now. She went into the kitchen and began to pick up the pans. "He is asleep now. He must have come down while we were in the other room." She stacked two small saucepans inside a larger one and stuck them down in a cupboard next to the sink. "Taking things out of drawers and cupboards is a common behavior with Alzheimer's," she said, putting a skillet away.

And a nightmare for the people who live with them, Joanna thought. "Can I help?" she asked.

"No, I've got it," Kit said, taking the lid off a Dutch oven and pulling out two books. She reached up and set them on the table. "Sit down. I'll start the tea."

She got two mugs out of an upper cupboard, filled them with water, and stuck them in the microwave, punching in the code. "The problem is he's sleeping less and less," she said, setting sugar and teabags on the table. "He used to sleep a couple of hours during the day," she got out two spoons, "but now it's hardly any, even at night. Now, the question is," she said, looking around the room, her hands on her hips, "where did he put the cookies?" She looked in the refrigerator, the freezer, the wastebasket.

"Would he have eaten them?" Joanna asked, thinking, I can't believe we're talking about Mr.

Briarley, who knew all about Dylan Thomas and Henry the Eighth's wives and Restoration drama, like this.

"He doesn't usually take food," Kit said. "He has almost no appet.i.te." She opened drawers one after the other, and then stood looking speculatively around the kitchen. "There's usually a logic in what he does and says, even though sometimes it's hard to figure out the connection."

She walked swiftly over to the oven and opened it. "Ah, here we are," she said, pulling out the top rack, on which sat the cookies, arranged in neat rows on the wire rack. She grabbed the cookie plate and began putting the cookies on it. "Luckily, it wasn't the dishwasher," she said, setting the plate on the table. The microwave dinged, and Kit took the mugs out and handed one to Joanna and sat down opposite her.

"How long has Mr. Bri-your uncle been like this?" Joanna asked.

"Taking things out of the cupboards, or the Alzheimer's? The cupboards, only a couple of months. The Alzheimer's was diagnosed five years ago, but I started noticing things two years before that."

That surprised Joanna. She'd thought from what Kit said before that she'd moved in with her uncle when they'd found out he had Alzheimer's, but apparently she'd been living with him before that.

While she went to school? she wondered, remembering the photo of Kit in front of University Hall.

DU was only a few blocks from here.

"The memory loss probably started several years before that," Kit was saying, dipping her teabag. "It takes a while for symptoms to develop, and Alzheimer's patients learn to cover really well."Joanna thought about Mr. Briarley muttering, "Coleridge. Overrated Romantic," the day before.

She wondered if he even remembered who Coleridge was.