A Reasonable Doubt

it was as though her brain were a machine that wouldn’t stop running, as it constantly, painfully, arranged and then rearranged pieces of her life, like a jigsaw puzzle, trying to fit them into a picture she could recognize.  Little pieces at first, starting around the edges, like the house on Morgan Hill where she had grown up, like Diana who took care of her father, like her sister, Janet, who came up from Portland to see her, like the Victorian on Broad Street where she had her office, and like the hospital, the nurses, the technicians, and the doctors who had been swirling around her for what seemed like weeks, but was really only days.

From somewhere in the recesses of her mind, even if she couldn’t put it all together yet, she knew what the Indian case was.  She knew that someone named Jason Lightfoot had committed a murder, and that she was going to be defending him in court, but she had no clear memory of the details of the case, or of who Jason Lightfoot was accused of murdering, or even of who Jason Lightfoot actually was.

She vaguely remembered Wanda and Megan and Joe, and she finally remembered Amanda -- her best friend since childhood.  Amanda had been in the hospital, too, she was told.  She wondered why.  She thought it quite odd that they would both be in the hospital at the same time.  Was it a coincidence, or had they been together when they were hurt?

Ever so slowly, in fits and starts, the pieces of the puzzle began to come together.  And the next time that Jeff Nordlund came to see her, Lily actually blushed.

“I remember you now,” she said.

The surgeon chuckled.  “In that case,” he said, “I think it’s time we got you up and out of that bed.”

. . .

It was over her parents’ objections that Amanda Jansen returned to the hospital she had left just five days earlier, and made her way, with cast and crutches, to the private room on the second floor.  She had been told about the amnesia, so it was with great relief that she saw Lily smile when she entered.

“I was so worried about you,” she said, sitting down ever so cautiously in the chair next to the bed, before carefully laying her crutches down on the floor beside her.

“Do you know what happened?” Lily asked, eyeing her friend’s cast.

“All I remember is we were out in the back yard, minding our own business, grabbing some sun,” Amanda said. “And then I think there was an explosion.”

“The back yard?”

“At the cottage.”

“We were at the cottage?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t remember,” Lily said.  “I know, the doctors told me, I was hit in the head and it affected my memory.  But not to be able to remember is driving me nuts.”

“They say you got the worst of it,” Amanda told her.  “So give yourself a break.  Whatever needs to come back will come back.  It’ll just take some time.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Lily said.

“Wish I could say the same for the cottage,” Amanda said ruefully.  “My parents tell me all that’s left is a pile of burned-out rubble.”

“We were at the cottage,” Lily said, perhaps more to herself than to her friend.  “We were in the back yard at the cottage.”

“We were,” Amanda confirmed.

“And it’s gone?”

“Blown to smithereens.”

“What were we doing at the cottage?” Lily asked.

“You mean, when all hell broke loose?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s see,” Amanda said, wanting to get it straight, even in her own mind.  “It was warm.  We were being lazy.  We were enjoying the July 4th weekend.  We were out on the lounge chairs.  I was lying on my stomach.  I think you were on your back.”

“We were in the back yard,” Lily repeated slowly, trying to remember.  “We were on lounge chairs.  We were talking about something -- about what?  I can’t remember.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Amanda said.  “I can’t remember, either.”

“And then there was an explosion?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you scream.”

“You could have.”

“No, I remember that,” Lily said, growing excited.  “I remember hearing you scream!”

“Good,” Amanda exclaimed.  “Do you know what the explosion was?  The police asked, but I didn’t know.”

“No,” Lily admitted.  “I just remember being there -- at least, I’m pretty sure I remember being there -- and I know I heard you scream.”

“Well, that’s a start.”

“I can’t believe the cottage is gone.”  Lily couldn’t really remember what it looked like, but she was fairly certain that it had been a wonderful place.  “We loved going there, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did,” Amanda told her.  “But all is not lost.  My parents say they’ll rebuild it.  It might not have the same charm, but it’ll still be a place we can go when we want to get away from it all.”

Get away from it all.  Was that what they were doing at the cottage when all hell broke loose, Lily wondered -- getting away from it all?

. . .

Getting Lily up and out of the bed was the next challenge.  The process consisted first of leg, toe, and finger flexing, three times a day -- to maintain muscular dexterity, she was told.  She was encouraged to sit up and dangle her legs off the side of the bed.  Once she could do that without dizziness, she was told it was time to stand up and move around the room, with assistance in the beginning, and then, as she got steadier, on her own.  And finally, she was allowed to go to the bathroom all by herself.

Then came the real test -- where she was walked repeatedly up and down the length of the corridor, and then up and down a flight of stairs, in an effort to help her strengthen her muscles, and reinforce her balance.

By the time she had been in the hospital for ten days, she was itching to go home.  The bandages had come off, most of the stitches had been removed, x-rays, lab tests, and a CT