Passage

“But I’m going home, and if you don’t come right away it’ll be too late! I’ll already be gone!”

She sounded genuinely upset. “Okay, I’ll be right down,” Joanna said. “I can only stay a couple of minutes,” she added, though there was no chance she’d get away in time to go see Mrs. Woollam. She’d have to wait till this afternoon.

“I’m going down to tell Maisie good-bye,” she said to Richard. “She’s going home.”

“What about the interview with Mr. Pearsall?”

“If I’m not back when he gets here, page me,” she said, waving her pager at him to show him she had it, and ran down to fifth and over to the walkway, but it was blocked with a sawhorse and more yellow tape.

“They’re laying new tile,” a lab tech heading the other way said. “Are you trying to get to the west wing? You have to either take the elevator up to seventh or down to the third-floor walkway.”

Joanna started back toward the elevators and saw Mr. Mandrake coming toward her. There was nowhere to go, no stairway she could duck into, not even an open door, and, anyway, he had already seen her. “Hello, Mr. Mandrake,” she said, trying not to look like a cornered rabbit.

“I’m glad I ran in to you,” he said. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“This isn’t a good time,” Joanna said, looking pointedly at her watch. “I have an appointment.”

“With an NDE patient?” he asked, instantly interested.

“No,” Joanna said, grateful that at least he hadn’t caught her going in to see Mrs. Woollam. Or Maisie. “A meeting, and I’m late already.”

“This will only take a moment,” he said, planting himself in front of her. “I have two matters I need to speak with you about. First, Mrs. Davenport informed me you haven’t been back to take down the rest of her NDE. She has remembered additional details about the manner of her return. The Angel of Light—”

“—gave her a telegram telling her she had to return. I know,” Joanna said. “She already told me about it.”

“No, no, she’s remembered a great deal more. The telegram was only the beginning. The Angel told her she was to be a messenger, and as He raised His shining hand…” Mr. Mandrake raised his hand in a sweeping gesture to illustrate, “…the mysteries of life and death were revealed to her, and she understood All. She’s very anxious to share the knowledge she was given with you.”

I’ll bet, Joanna thought.

“When you hear what she has learned, there will be no doubt in your mind that Mrs. Davenport has truly brought back news from the Other Side.”

“Mr. Mandrake—”

“The second thing I wanted to talk to you about was, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there is a new researcher here at the hospital whose intent is to undermine the credibility of our near-death research. His name is Dr. Wright. He claims to be able to reproduce the NAE in the laboratory through the administration of drugs. Of course that’s impossible. The NAE is a spiritual reality, not a drug hallucination, but people are gullible. They may well believe his claims, particularly when he cloaks them in the trappings of technology and science.”

“I have to go,” Joanna said and started toward the elevator, but Mr. Mandrake went right along with her.

“I’m very concerned about the effect of this so-called research on our studies. I tried to communicate my concerns to him, but he was extremely unresponsive. He has a partner, or so I understand, although I haven’t met him, and I’m hoping he will be more cooperative. That’s where you come in.”

“Come in?” Joanna said, reaching the elevator. She pushed the button.

“I haven’t been able to discover who this partner is. I want you to find out.”

The elevator pinged its arrival. Joanna waited for the door to open. “I already know.”

“You do?” he said, clearly surprised. “Who is it? Who’s his new partner?”

Joanna stepped in the elevator, pressed the “door-close” button, and waited till it was already sliding shut. “I am,” she said.

She almost wished she could have seen the look on his face before the door closed, but then she wouldn’t have gotten away. You had no business doing that, she thought, going up to seventh and across to the west wing. Now he’ll never give you any peace. But he and his network of spies would have found out soon anyway, and if she hadn’t told him, he would have accused her of intentionally deceiving him. Now, of course, he would accuse her of being gullible. Her, gullible!

She cut through CICU and took the service elevator down to Peds. Maisie was sitting on the side of her bed, dressed in a pink jumper with butterfly-shaped pockets. Which she must detest, Joanna thought. “You rang, kiddo?” Joanna said, and then saw Maisie’s mother was in the room, busily stuffing Maisie’s robe and slippers in a plastic hospital carry bag.

“Dr. Murrow was so happy with her progress on the inderone, he told us she could go home a day earlier,” she told Joanna brightly. She opened the closet door and picked up Maisie’s Barbie duffel bag.

Joanna glanced at Maisie, but she seemed unconcerned. “Dr. Murrow also said Maisie could start thinking about going back to school,” Mrs. Nellis said. She laid the duffel bag on the chair. “I’ll give you two a chance to chat. I need to talk to Dr. Murrow about getting Maisie on an experimental ACE-blocker before we leave.”

As soon as she went out, Maisie said, “I was afraid I was going to already be gone,” and pulled a folded piece of paper out of a patch pocket and handed it to Joanna. Joanna unfolded it. It said, “Joseph Leibrecht. 1968.”

Maisie said, “Ms. Sutterly said the guy who wrote the book went to Germany and interviewed this Leibrecht guy when he was writing the book. In 1968. Can you use it? His NDE?”

She couldn’t possibly. The Hindenburg had crashed in 1937, over thirty years before. Events remembered from that long ago would inevitably be distorted, details forgotten and added, blanks filled in with confabulations. It was virtually useless, but she hated to disappoint Maisie. “You bet,” she started to say, and realized Maisie was waiting, breath held, for her answer, as if it were some sort of test.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Joanna said. “NDE interviews need to be done right after the experience, or people forget things.”

“Or make up things,” Maisie said.

“That’s right,” Joanna said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Maisie said, not upset at all. In fact, she was grinning.

Joanna grinned back. “So you’re going home? Are you happy about that?”

She nodded. “Ms. Sutterly took my books for me,” she said, with a significant look at the duffel bag.

“Good. So how’s the Lusitania?”

“I’m not interested in it anymore,” she said. “It didn’t take very long to sink. Have you ever been to a circus?”

She would never get used to Maisie’s sudden conversational shifts. “Yes,” she said, “when I was a little girl.”

“Was it fun? Were there clowns?”

“Yes and yes,” Joanna said, thinking, even Mrs. Nellis would approve of this conversation. “I remember one clown who had a red nose and baggy pants, and he pulled a big polka-dot handkerchief out of his pocket to blow his nose with, but it was tied to a big red handkerchief, and that was tied to a blue one and a green one and a yellow one, and he just kept pulling and pulling and pulling handkerchiefs out of his pocket, looking for the end.”

“I bet that was funny,” Maisie said. “Do you know what a Victory garden is?”

“A Victory garden?” Joanna asked, lost again. “I’m not sure. I know what one kind is. During World War II, people planted gardens to grow food for the army. And the navy,” she added, thinking of Mr. Wojakowski, “to help win the war, and they were called Victory gardens. Is that the kind you mean?”

“I think so,” she said. “There was this circus in Hartford, that’s in Connecticut, and the tent caught fire and they all burned to death.”

I might have known, Joanna thought.

“One hundred and sixty-eight people died,” Maisie said. “I’d show you the picture except I don’t have my books. I’ll bring them next time I come to the hospital.”

“How do you know there’ll be a next time? Your mother says you’re really doing well,” Joanna nearly said,