something that didn’t exist, but he could never get over that. I kept thinking, ‘Well, maybe he believes God exists more than he realizes he does. That’s better than not believing he’s there at all!’ “ She gave Savannah a sad smile. “But he had his chance; he certainly didn’t die without hearing the truth.”
Savannah was stunned. Not believing God existed, but then hating him, too – it was as though Lori had read her mind. Goose-bumps rose on her arms.
“I have an album in the family room with more pictures of Charlie. Would you like to see them?”
Savannah nodded, feeling greedy for whatever information Lori was willing to share. “I’d love to. Thanks.”
Lori disappeared into another room and returned with a navy blue album with “Charlie” embossed on the front. The pictures were arranged chronologically, beginning with a hospital-blanket bundle with a baby’s face poking out. Savannah flipped the pages slowly, studying each image as though she’d be quizzed.
“What time does your flight leave tonight?” Lori asked.
“Seven forty-five.”
“My husband gets home at five and we usually eat dinner around five-thirty. We’d love to have you stay if you think you can still get to the airport on time.”
She’d arrived with the plan of darting out as soon as she could, but now she wished she were staying longer. “If it’s not an imposition, I would love that.”
She and Lori talked about less serious things as Savannah flipped through the album. She chuckled when she came to the more recent pictures-in each one Charlie wore jeans and long-sleeved T-shirts – though by this time she wasn’t surprised.
Lori’s husband Wayne arrived just before five, and was as pleasant and friendly as his wife. He and Savannah chatted while Lori made dinner-without Savannah’s help, though she’d offered – and Lori eventually called them to the table for a dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread. It was almost six when Savannah said she should get going soon.
“Let me bring out dessert before you go,” she said. She brought out a cake plate holding a glistening strawberry pie.
Savannah’s mouth watered, and she actually let out a groan of happiness. “You’d have no way to know this,” she said as she eyed the generous slice Lori cut for her, “but ever since the surgery I have had the most intense craving for strawberries.”
Lori handed her the plate with a smile. “That makes total sense,” she said. “It was Charlie’s favorite food.”
SHAUN SHUT DOWN HIS COMPUTER and sat in the quiet of his office. He was beginning to regret signing the lease on an office suite that was so small he’d have to be in a cubicle. It was getting harder and harder to be in the presence of his staff, and being able to hide in his office had become a means of survival for both him and them. They couldn’t whisper behind his back if he was right there, and he couldn’t pretend that everything was normal when he was stuck in the same depressed atmosphere as them. He could feel that tension every time he entered the room.
His cell rang. He glanced at the screen and groaned inside. He knew what a bad sign it was that he didn’t want to talk to his wife whom he hadn’t seen in so many days. But there it was: he simply didn’t want to. Life at the office might be miserable, but he was strangely, and sadly, happy with the house empty. When she’d been hospitalized it had been a nightmare. Now it was a relief.
He let the call go to voicemail and pulled on his coat. He’d listen to her message in the car.
“See you tomorrow, Brenda,” he said with a nod as he passed the receptionist. She didn’t even try to smile, just waved and said, “Bye” as he headed out the door. He was going to have to come clean with them soon, or else they’d start abandoning ship. On second thought, maybe he’d just let them do that. It would save him the trouble of having to admit defeat to a roomful of people he once considered family. It would save him from paying severance, too.
He was halfway home when he remembered the voicemail from Savannah. He set the phone on speaker mode and started the message.
“Hi Shaun, it’s me. You will never guess where I am. I flew to Kansas this morning to meet the sister of my heart donor. She wrote me a letter that Marisa brought when she came out here the other day. I’m on my way back to the airport now to go back to Georgia, but I wanted to tell you something I discovered. Charlie – that’s my donor, Charlie Bates; he was 28 and died in a car crash-he was an atheist. His father left their family when he was little, and a Christian neighbor who took him under his wing ended up cheating on his wife. Between those two events, he was completely soured against God. But what was really crazy was the way his sister, Lori, described it. She said he claimed to be an atheist, but that he also hated God. Shaun, that is exactly how I’ve been feeling. And it doesn’t make sense to hate something that you don’t think exists. It’s like he knew -just like I knew-that God really was real, but hating him wasn’t enough to express how betrayed he felt. He wanted to act like he didn’t even exist. But his anger-his
The voicemail system had cut her off, but he knew she’d said everything she really wanted to say. He started speeding, eager to get online. He found himself actually smiling.
Despite the fact that he’d skipped lunch and barely had breakfast, he didn’t even make a pit stop in the kitchen before going straight to his office and booting up his computer. He wrote down a list of search terms as he waited for the system to finish starting up. Memories stored in organs, transplanting memories, organ donor memories. He opened a browser window and typed the first phrase in. He expected to get something about sentimental views of musical instruments, but instead hit pay dirt with the very first result. He read the brief article which gave little scientific information, but confirmed the likely existence of a phenomenon called cellular memories. Armed with an exact phrase, he searched again. ‘Cellular memories’ brought up more than enough information to start with. He spent the next two hours reading and making notes to share with Savannah.
· Cellular memories: hypothesis that personal memories, tastes, personality traits, etc. are stored in cells throughout the body, not just the brain
· Some anecdotal support for the theory, but no peer-reviewed studies have been done
· Dr. Pearsall, an expert in the field (the only one, apparently)
· how to make it stop – can’t find anything on this
It was this last bit that frustrated Shaun the most. He read everything he could find online that seemed a legitimate description of the phenomenon, and in none of the articles was there any mention of how the recipients got those memories “turned off.” Certainly there had to be some way.
He finally stopped when a sudden wave of nausea reminded him of how long it had been since his last meal. As he threw together a hasty dinner, he tried not to let himself get too excited at this new discovery. If they could identify Savannah’s struggles as really being cellular memories, then at least they had a cause, a documented-albeit not completely accepted-type of event that others had also experienced.
Perhaps he’d try to contact Dr. Pearsall. It couldn’t hurt. Shaun hadn’t read any stories that seemed exactly like Savannah’s – none of them seemed to involve changes in spirituality. Musical and food preferences, yes. From one religion to another – or to none – not so much. Leave it to Savannah to be the exception to the rule.
There had to be a fix, a cure. There had to be. He held on to that as he ate and surfed the web some more, praying there was an article he hadn’t read yet that touched on how to stop cellular memories. He couldn’t let himself think about what was in store if there wasn’t.
SAVANNAH’S CELL RANG HER AWAKE. Shaun’s number was on the screen. “Hi there.”
“Hi – did I wake you? I thought for sure you’d be up by now.”
“I should be, don’t worry about it. I was up late.”
“Me too. Reading about cellular memories.”
