The Awakening of Dr. Brown

Too unsettled, his mind too restless to face his empty apartment, Ethan spent the rest of the afternoon at the clinic, trying to focus on his perennial backlog of paperwork. It was late-past ten-when he finally said good-night to Tom and climbed the stairs to his apartment, so it was somewhat startling to him to hear a knock on his front door just as he peeled off his shirt, preparatory to stepping into the shower.

He hurriedly shut off the water and went to answer it, heart thumping, knowing that without an advance phone call it could only be the Service. And, given the hour, something of major importance. Chilled, emotionally braced for the worst of possibilities, he opened the door.

It was Tom, impassive as always, his face giving nothing away. “Sorry to bother you, sir,” he said as he handed Ethan a manila envelope. “This fax came for you this afternoon. I thought you’d want to see it right away.”

Ethan opened the envelope and drew out several sheets of paper. The top one bore the White House letterhead. And below that, in his stepmother’s blunt, distinctive scrawl: Hi, Darlin’-Could this be your Joanna? Love, Dixie.

What followed appeared to be several pages covered with copies of newspaper articles.

“Yeah…” His heart was racing in earnest now. Unable to tear his eyes from the papers, he mumbled his thanks.

“No problem. Good night, sir.” The Secret Service man gently closed the door.

Ethan carried the envelope over to the couch and sat tensely on the edge of the cushions while he dumped its contents onto the coffee table. Headlines leaped at him, but he forced himself to arrange the articles methodically by date before beginning to read.

The first was dated March 7, twenty-five years earlier.

Mother, Two Children Die In Row House Apartment

Fire

A mother and her two young children died when a fire apparently caused by faulty wiring swept through their third-floor apartment Thursday afternoon. Firefighters arriving on the scene found the upper floors of the substandard structure fully engulfed in flames. Despite heroic efforts, they were unable to reach the victims. A spokesman for the South Church Street Station, which was the first company to respond to the fire, said rescuers found fire escapes rusted away and windows painted shut. Investigators were still on the scene late Thursday evening, but preliminary reports indicate that substandard conditions in the row house apartment building may have contributed to both the cause of the blaze and the fatalities.

The victims, who have been identified as Rachel Evans Dunn, 27, and her two children, Jonathan, 9, and Christina, 3, were trapped in their apartment by the flames and apparently died from smoke inhalation. A third child, Joanna, 9, who neighbors said was a twin to one of the victims, was not at home at the time of the fire. She is the only surviving member of the family.

Four others, including a firefighter, were treated for smoke inhalation and minor burns and released.

Ethan sat for a long time, staring at the pages spread across the coffee table. He felt cold-cold clear through to his bones-and there was a brassy taste at the back of his throat that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times he swallowed.

Could this be your Joanna?

Frustratingly, he still didn’t know that-not for certain. The follow-up articles were mostly about the investigation into the cause of the fire and the case against the landlord, who was subsequently prosecuted for various code violations and involuntary manslaughter. The child Joanna was mentioned again in all of the articles as background, and always identified as her family’s only survivor. But as to what had become of her after that, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

My name is Joanna…Joanna Dunn.

Was it possible? Could this little girl, who had escaped a terrible death along with her entire family only by a matter of luck-or the grace of God-have somehow become the rock-and-roll legend known to the entire world as Phoenix?

Phoenix. The truth came to Ethan in blinding, white-hot revelation. Heart pounding, he tore through his bookshelves until he found his dictionary, but even before he looked it up, he knew that he was right. Phoenix…the legendary bird, Egyptian symbol of immortality…said to perish by flames every five hundred years, only to rise reborn from its own ashes…

Ethan had no idea how long it was before he rose from the couch and walked into the bathroom, peeled off his clothes and climbed stiffly into the shower. He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it, but even though his skin turned lobster red, he could not make the cold deep inside him go away.

“So, what would have become of her?”

Ethan put the question to Father Frank the next afternoon. Sunday’s masses were long since concluded, and he’d found his old friend relaxing in the rectory kitchen over iced tea and a plateful of Ruthie’s homemade cookies. Still feeling sick inside, Ethan had declined the cookies. Instead he toyed restlessly with the film of moisture on his iced tea glass. “I assume the father was long gone. If she was her family’s only survivor, where would she go?”

Father Frank picked up a cookie, put it down and leaned back in his chair, rubbing a regretful hand over his rounded belly. “Into foster care, probably.”

“Is there any way to find out?”

The priest shook his head. “I doubt it. Those records are confidential. It would take a court order, and even then…I don’t know.”

“Six years…” Ethan said softly, watching himself make interlocking figure eights on the tabletop with the bottom of his glass. “That’s what’s missing. At nine she loses her family and vanishes into the black hole known as child services. Six years later, at fifteen, she explodes onto the world stage when she sings Rupert Dove’s Oscar- nominated song at the Academy Awards.” He smiled wryly at his hands. “I’ve seen tapes of that performance. Man, she almost caused a riot.” He shook his head, then let out a slow, defeated breath. “What happened to her during those missing years, Franco? How will I ever know?”

“Is it so important for you to know?” His eyes were quiet and dark-priest’s eyes. Ethan could almost hear the unspoken “My son…”

For that reason, he was careful with his answer. “I think it is important…but not for me.” And he was surprised, as he heard himself say the words, to find that they were true. “I mean, I believe it’s important that I know, so I can…let her know…” He stopped, frustrated. Stymied.

His old friend Frank, however, smiled in perfect understanding. “So you can let her know it’s okay-whatever it is.”

“Right…” Ethan sat back with a grateful sigh, then, with restored confidence amended, “That she’s okay. And that I-” He caught himself just in time.

“That you…love her anyway?” Ethan made a faint sound, a denial, and Frank gently persisted, “You do, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan frowned at his hands. It had become hard to talk. There seemed to be some sort of strange vibration deep inside his chest that was interfering with his voice, his breathing, even his heartbeat. “I think…” he had to concentrate on unclenching his jaws “…I may be…starting to.” He frowned even harder. “It’s just been happening so fast.”

Father Frank laughed and reached defiantly for a cookie after all. “I’m no expert, you understand, but I hear it does that way sometimes.” He studied the cookie intently, then said, “You want my advice?”

Ethan threw up his hands. “Yeah, I want your advice. Why do you think I’m here? You’re my best friend-and a priest, for God’s sake.”

Father Frank’s smile was beatific. “Exactly…” He popped the cookie into his mouth with an air of getting down to business. “Okay, so here it is. Ta-dah… Ask the one who knows.”

Ethan snorted. “Easy for you to say. She won’t talk about it. In fact, after yesterday, she may never talk to me again.”

Still chewing, Father Frank shook his head. “Mmm-um-not Phoenix. You want to know about those missing years? If it were me, I’d ask Rupert Dove.”