Flashback

Before she and Alice left, Lorraine’s son said, “I’m not particularly religious, but this is like a miracle.”

“It is a miracle, and you better believe God was listening,” his wife declared.

“Whatever, the people who developed this should get the Nobel Prize,” the son added. “I can’t tell you how much better she is. Right, Mom? You’re getting your memory back.”

The woman smiled. “That’s what they say.”

“Here you go, Mom. Remember what day it is today?”

The woman stared at the wall as if trying to read a teleprompter. “Sunday.”

“Close enough. It’s Monday.”

“But you usually come on Sundays.”

“Jeez. That’s right, and today’s a holiday. It’s Labor Day. I forgot.” Then he looked at Rene. “See what I mean? It’s unbelievable.” Then he squeezed his mother’s hand. “Mom, you’re a miracle.” And he kissed her hand.

Alice led Rene back out and into the dayroom, Rene’s head spinning. All her previous suspicions of exaggerated claims were diminishing. And according to Alice the cognitive test scores would bear out the evidence.

Just three years. The niggling voice was back as they made their way into the dayroom. He could have held on.

Christ, you’re going to let this eat you to death, she told herself.

Promise me … to die with dignity.

He would have continued to waste away, full-coded to be kept alive by machines and tubes and IV drips, antibiotics, CPR, emergency trips to the hospital.

You didn’t know. You didn’t know. And she latched onto Nick’s words like a life raft.

“And this is Louis Martinetti,” Linda said.

Louis was standing in front of them wearing jeans and a khaki shirt with pockets and epaulets. Hanging conspicuously around his neck was a chain with some kind of dull gray metal pendant.

“Louis and I met the other day. Good to see you again, Louis. How you doing?”

“How am I doing? I’ve got Alzheimer’s.” And he gave Rene a glacial stare to gauge her reaction. “I’m the sum of all I’ve forgotten.”

“Well, I hear you’re doing very well,” Rene said.

He looked at Rene and squinted. Then something shifted in his face. “Your name Rita Swenson?”

“No, I’m Rene Ballard. We met the other day.”

Unconsciously Louis’s fingers gripped the pendant around his neck. They were military dog tags.

“Maybe your glasses will help,” Alice said, and she pulled the case out of his shirt pocket, extracted his glasses, and handed them to him.

Cautiously, Louis slipped them on and began to study Rene’s face. After a moment, his expression shaded to embarrassment. “Sorry, I sometimes get a little confused. You’re the pharmacist.”

Rene was delighted at his recall. “That’s right. Very good, Louis. Rene Ballard.” And he squeezed her hand.

Louis shook his head as if dispelling a thought. “But you don’t know who she is, do you? Nah, you wouldn’t know.”

“Well, maybe you can tell me about her and who Fuzzy Swenson was.”

Louis thought that over. Suddenly, something passed through him and he became agitated, his eyes flitting and his expression darkening. He moved toward the nearby window and became fixed on something outside. “From the southeast corridor,” he mumbled. “Maybe hundred fifty, two hundred men tops …” He continued to mutter to himself as if having an interior conversation.

“What’s that, Louis?” Alice asked.

Louis did not turn but continued muttering to the window. “Light armaments the northwest … half dozen … reconnaissance … Seventeenth Infantry Regiment …” Then his face screwed up as if he had just seen something awful. “I’m telling the truth. That’s all I know.” Then his head cocked and his face smoothed out again. “Tell them he’s only a kid, only a boy. He knows nothing. I know nothing. Nobody knows nothing.”

“Louis, are you all right?”

Louis rotated his head toward Rene and Alice, and for a long moment he stared at Rene. “He was a good guy, a good stand-up guy is all. Told some good jokes.” His eyes appeared to fill with tears. “I loved him like a brother, you know?” His head cocked and he nodded as if he were taking in responses from some invisible companion. “I know, I know. But I swear we’ll get them back is all.”

Alice leaned toward her. “Sometimes he talks to himself. But it’s never a problem.” And she nodded a reassuring expression at Rene.

“I promised him that night and I promise you now,” he said to Rene. “We’ll be there—me, Captain Mike, and Jojo. I swear.”

Rene had no idea whom he was addressing in his head or what he was swearing, but the look in his eyes sent a small electric shock through her.

Louis then turned and headed back to his room, still muttering. But he wasn’t simply talking to himself. He was engaged in a full-fledged conversation with people in his head. “His charts say you’ve been treating him with antipsychotics.”

“Yes, well, only when … you know, the delusions become a problem.”

“Like what?”

Alice appeared to squirm. “Well, like when he gets paranoid or frightened.”

“He’s on a high dosage of Haldol.”

“Well, sometimes he gets pretty upset and doesn’t snap out of it.” Then her face brightened. “But the thing is, his short-term memory is coming back like gangbusters. I’ll show you his scores.”

They walked down the hallway. But what bothered Rene was how Alice wanted to put the best face on Louis’s delusions—and the weird sensation that Louis’s mind was toggling between the ward and some dark and faraway time. Yes, that happened with dementia patients. Her own father had had occasional delusions, sometimes thinking Rene was his wife as a younger woman or someone from television. But what struck her was how Louis had looked at her as he stood there fingering his dog tags. He looked lethal with conviction.

Alice continued her sunny monologue. “When his wife and daughter admitted him last year he had nearly forgotten the first half of his life. He could barely remember anything. Now he’s coming back like pieces of a puzzle. It’s unbelievable.” Alice stopped and took Rene’s arms. “This is what it’s all about—not all that team-player stuff,” she whispered. “Honey, we’re seeing miracles like he said. Real miracles.”

“I’m starting to believe it.”

From down the hall Carter Lutz stepped out of a conference room with Jordan Carr and two other people she did not recognize—men in suits. Lutz separated from the others and came over to Rene, his face preceded him like a huge happy-face mask. He extended his hand to her. “Nothing like seeing for yourself. Pretty remarkable, huh?”

The man was the personification of smarminess. “Yes, it is.”

“So you can appreciate what we’re all excited about.”

They both know what he referred to.

“Alice tells us that her meeting with the lawyers went swimmingly.”

Alice went into exaggerated nodding. “Uh-huh. Oh, yeah, a piece of cake.”

“They should be calling you any day now to prep you for the deposition. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Dr. Lutz, I appreciate your concern,” Rene said. “But my understanding is that in depositions one is asked to swear to tell the truth. I’m having trouble with having to lie under oath.”

Lutz’s face looked as if it had just freeze-dried. “Ms. Ballard, we’ve been through all this.” Then he pressed his face very close to hers so that she could smell the sourness of his coffee breath. “If you tell them what you saw, you will bring this all down—everything! And you will hurt many people … including yourself. Do you understand? Do you?” His voice sounded like an electric saw hitting a nail. Down the corridor Jordan Carr and the other men were silently taking in the scene.