by Trudi Jaye
“I’ll be looking for symptoms, examples of typical behavior. With some of the patients, I’ll try to encourage certain tasks, things that will improve their memory, and then take notes on what happens over time.”
“You’ll just upset them.”
“I take great pains to ensure I don’t upset the patients. In fact, for many of them, I’m their only visitor.”
“Just because you’re there doesn’t mean you’re a visitor. You’re watching them, assessing them like they’re lab rats.”
She glanced around in concern at the people sitting behind them. “Please, can we talk about this in private?”
The doctor did seem genuinely worried about them. Garth hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine, lead the way.”
CHAPTER TWO
Maddy swallowed again, trying to ease the sudden dryness in her throat.
Milton’s son was turning out to be a handful. From what everyone had said, she hadn’t expected him to bat an eye about the research. They’d told her he didn’t visit for months and that Milton didn’t remember much beyond his name and a few old stories.
But here he was, defending his dad like he was up for son of the year. It was going to require a bit of persuasion if she was going to get her new favorite subject into her research group.
She’d never seen the disease exhibiting in quite this way before. Milton had early-onset Alzheimer’s, certainly, but in all other respects, he was as healthy as a horse. Generally, the disease presented other symptoms that just weren’t showing up in Milton’s case. She clenched her hand. She had to get Garth’s father onto her study. He might mean the difference between good and great in her research outcomes.
Turning, she smiled at Garth, amping up the wattage. “I understand your concern. He’s your father, and you’re worried about me taking advantage of him, especially when his rational mind isn’t there anymore.” She saw a flicker of emotion cross his face before it disappeared, but she kept going. “I give you my solemn oath that the welfare of my patients is my priority. The work I do here with your father and the others might help overcome Alzheimer’s one day.”
Garth paused. “So it’s too late for my father?” His eyes seemed to darken, and for a moment, Maddy felt herself drowning in their depths. He really was quite intriguing and nothing at all as she’d expected. His eyes seemed to change color in different lights. They were a dark brown, almost black, but the changing highlights were mesmerizing. They seemed to see inside her, assessing her answers and gauging their truth. A shiver went down her spine. She didn’t want him looking too closely at her thoughts and emotions.
Giving herself an internal shake, she tried again to read his face, wondering whether he really expected her to answer that she could indeed do something for Milton. In the end, all she could do was be honest. “I’m sorry, Garth. Once it gets to this stage, it’s about keeping them calm and comfortable. There’s really not much else we can do.”
Garth closed his eyes and nodded. He flicked his thumb in a repetitive motion that was obviously a well-worn habit. “Thank you for being honest, at least.”
Had she said the wrong thing? Maddy’s heart dropped a beat, but she carried on. “I’m an honest person, Garth. I want to help people. That’s what I do.”
He turned his intense gaze back on her. “How long have you been doing this kind of thing?”
Maddy blinked. “What? Research?”
His eyes locked with hers. She felt a blush creeping across her face. Dammit. That was the last thing she needed. How could he take her seriously if she looked like a teenager? She desperately tried to quash the physical reaction to being the focus of his attention while she waited for his answer.
“Research, being a doctor.” He waved a hand around them. “Memory loss.”
He wanted her résumé? She frowned a moment, trying to decide if he was patronizing her, but he didn’t seem to be saying she couldn’t or shouldn’t be doing the research. He seemed to genuinely want to know.
She cleared her throat. “I graduated with my PhD a few years ago and went straight into teaching and research. I worked on general memory loss at first, amnesia, that kind of thing. It was the specialty of my supervisor, so it made sense. Then I branched out on my own.” Maddy recited her history, watching his reactions carefully, not sure what he was looking for. She didn’t want to tell him she’d graduated early, and when she’d completed her PhD studies, she’d been the youngest-ever researcher in the department.
“Into what?” Garth was still watching her carefully, his eyes missing nothing.
She felt like a small animal caught in a net, struggling to get out, but with no idea how. He wasn’t going to agree; she could see it. Maddy wracked her brain for the right thing to say to change his mind. Nothing came into her head, so she just answered the question, blindly hoping for the best. “I started focusing on Alzheimer’s, looking at the degenerative memory loss of the elderly. How it could be stopped. If it could be stopped.”
“Why do research? Why not be a real doctor, helping real people?”
Her heart bounced a beat. He was too close to a nerve. But something in his expression made her answer him with the unvarnished truth, yet again. “My father is a research scientist. My mother was as well, before she was forced to give it up when she had me.” Maddy blinked. Why on Earth had she said that? She cleared her throat. “It’s in the family, so to speak.”
“The family business?” Garth nodded, his face lightening a fraction. “I guess I understand that. I’m following on from my father as well.”
Maddy grasped at the small lifeline he seemed to offer. “What’s your family business?” Milton had given some seriously confusing stories about what he used to do.
Garth blinked and looked away. Maddy felt his hesitation thicken the air around them like it was a physical presence. The mob? Hit man? In that moment, she knew it was bad. Something not quite above board. A shiver went down her spine. What was she getting herself into?
He glanced back at Maddy. “I’m in the Carnival,” he said quietly.
Maddy blinked. Not what she’d expected. “I’ve never met anyone from a carnival. I haven’t even been to one,” she blurted out. Great, she even sounded like a teenager now.
“Never?” Garth raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Maddy shook her head. “My parents didn’t like that kind of thing. Too frivolous, I suppose. I was sent to camps that did extra schoolwork over the summer.” Maddy clamped her lip between her teeth. What on Earth was she doing? Telling him all her frigging secrets?
She shook her head slightly, trying to remember where they were in the discussion of Milton and Garth signing her release form. He would think she was a complete idiot.
But Garth just smiled in commiseration. “We had to work all summer too. Just a different kind of work, I suppose.” His eyes softened to a melted chocolate brown as he looked down at her.
“Your father made you work in the summers as well?”
“At first. But I took over my father’s position when he was diagnosed eight years ago.”
Maddy felt a pang of sympathy. He didn’t look old enough to have taken on anything over eight years before. She would look up Milton’s files, find out how old he was. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult for you.”
Garth shrugged. “More difficult for him, I guess. I’m not the one losing my memory.” He paused. “Yet.”
Maddy raised her eyebrows. “You think you might have a genetic predisposition?”
“Yes.” The single word said it all.
It was a tough load to carry, the knowledge that you were going to lose your memories. They made up such a big part of who you were. She’d seen people crack under the strain of it. Her parents might drive her crazy sometimes, but she would hate to forget them, to only see strangers when they came to visit.
In the spur of the moment, Maddy made a decision. “I can help,” she said in a rush. “There are things you can do to slow down
the advancement of Alzheimer’s. And I can give you a proper physical, to see if you actually have any of the signs. I mean, nothing is certain, right?”
She could help him; she was sure she could. It was as much as she could do to help any of the people she studied. Tell them if they had Alzheimer’s and then help slow down the deterioration.
Her brain started ticking over. Imagine if Garth had the same unusual variety of early-onset Alzheimer’s as Milton. She almost forgot to breathe for a moment. If she got it in time, she could watch the whole process, his decline from start to finish. It would make for an amazing study.
But in the next breath, she thought of those chocolate-brown eyes slowly going blank and losing their intelligent glitter. A tiny flame of pain flickered in her chest, catching her off guard. Maddy exhaled. She needed to concentrate on getting him to agree to Milton’s participation in her research. He was already beginning to shake his head, about to say no.
Impulsively, she reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it now. Wait until you’ve seen me working with your father a while. We can talk about it later.”
Garth stepped back, out of reach, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still not convinced this is the best thing for Dad. I don’t want him upset.”
Maddy scrutinized Garth, trying to understand his motivation for objecting to her work. He seemed genuinely concerned for Milton. This wasn’t a power play or an attempt to score a bit of money. She needed to convince a worried son, not a greedy con artist. “Milton likes me. He really does. And he’s a special case, different from other early-onset cases I’ve seen. I think it could lead to some important breakthroughs in memory loss research to study him. I promise you I won’t do anything that will harm, upset, or be otherwise detrimental to your father. And there’s a strong chance I can keep him from deteriorating further.”
She saw his eyes flick back to her face, attentive to her promise of help. She sternly buried a pang of guilt. She would try to help Milton. It wasn’t a lie. Just because she was blatantly pandering to Garth’s desire to have his father get better from an incurable degenerative disease, that didn’t mean she was a bad person, did it? She swallowed down over the small voice in her head that said, Yes, it does.
“You could help him, then? You just said you couldn’t.”
“I believe I can keep him from getting worse. And in some cases, there is some improvement. But I really shouldn’t even be mentioning that to you. It’s not that common.” A small salve to her conscience.
“But it’s possible?”
Maddy nodded. The sensible voice inside her head was screaming at her to not promise anything, that she didn’t know what was going to happen. That was the point of the research. But she knew if she didn’t give him something, he was going to walk away.
She waited, holding her breath.
“Okay, I’ll sign it, but with a rider that says if I don’t like the way you’re doing it, I can rescind my agreement. I’ll be watching you.” He loomed over her for a moment, tall and threatening. A shiver ran down her spine.
All of a sudden, he seemed far too dangerous and deadly.
***
Garth looked down at this female doctor, trying to decide if he was making the right decision. She’d made him change his mind, soothed his fears for his father with her passionate little speech. The image of a sparrow came to mind again, feathers fluffed as she defended her position.
He wondered if she could really help his father. A little burst of hope flared and died almost as quickly. His father hadn’t recognized him for a couple of years now. He was just grasping at straws.
He looked out the window. His father’s memory was gone, and it wouldn’t come back. But there was someone else who needed her help to get his memory back and hopefully move on with his life.
“There’s another rider to the contract.”
Dr. Annandale looked up at him in surprise. Emotions flicked across her face, and he could see she was dying to tell him he’d already agreed.
Well, tough.
“How much do you really know about other kinds of memory loss?” he asked.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What kind?”
“Amnesia. Short term.”
Dr. Annandale blinked but nodded. “It’s a related field and I did my original PhD research in amnesia. I know a fair amount.”
Garth paused, narrowed his eyes, and assessed her honesty one last time. Her face seemed open. His instincts told him to trust her. And Simon needed help from someone who actually knew what they were doing.
“There’s a young boy at the Carnival, at our Compound. He’s lost his memory of the last year in his life. It was because of a… traumatic experience.”
She nodded, absently chewing her lower lip. “I can meet him on the weekend to see if there’s anything I can do to help.” She paused. “But in the meantime, you need to sign the release forms so I can get started working with your father.”
A flash of panic ran along his spine. Could he really trust her? What had he done, inviting a stranger to the Compound? He’d never done that before, and he wasn’t really sure why he had now. Was it really to help Simon, or was he just using that as an excuse?
He looked down into her face. She smiled and a twinkle lit up her eyes. It was gone almost as soon as it arrived, and he briefly wondered if he imagined it.
But he didn’t think he had.
CHAPTER THREE
Garth glanced at his watch.
Dr. Annandale had said she’d come by the Compound about two o’clock. She would be here any minute. The large steel gates at the entrance to their fortress were firmly shut to anyone who didn’t have a pass to get inside. He walked along the metal fence, trying to keep himself calm.
Inviting a stranger inside the gates made him feel off balance. He’d never done anything like this. Worst of all, he wasn’t sure why he’d invited her.
Then he thought of her bright-green eyes, and a small part of him knew the answer.
He didn’t even know why he was so anxious. She was an outsider, a little sparrow who couldn’t compare with the women he knew. His hand clenched.
She couldn’t ever compare. He wouldn’t let her.
Garth heard the roar of a motor long before he saw the vehicle. He turned and the dot in the distance became a motorbike with a small leather-clad rider perched low on the frame. The bike slowed and came to a stop beside Garth.
Pulling off her helmet, Dr. Annandale grinned at him. “This the big secret spot?”
Garth nodded, not allowing himself to smile back. She looked too relaxed and casual. Not at all like the straight-laced researcher he’d met the other day. “Our own private oasis.” He walked over and entered the code for the gates. They slowly swung open.
Dr. Annandale rode the bike through the gate, then stopped. “How far down does this go? Do you want to get on the back?” She nodded to the vacant spot behind her on the bike.
Garth hesitated. He’d thought she would come in a car and he would be able to hitch a ride. The bike was a whole other option. He almost said no. Then he realized he was being stupid. Scared of a little sparrow.
“Sure.” He climbed on behind her.
“You’ll have to hold on,” she said, a smile in her voice.
Reluctantly, he put his arms around her waist, trying to remember when he’d become such a prude.
She roared off down the drive, and Garth clung tighter to her as the wind knocked through his hair. The trees sped past, a brown and green blur.
As they neared the first houses, he tapped her shoulder and pointed to the left—his home—where Simon was staying. She slowed and stopped outside, waiting until he got off to flick the bike’s stand into place.
He led her up the steps and waited by the door, watching as she took off her helmet and gear. Underneath, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt.
“The boy you’re here to see, he’s still pretty banged up. He had multiple fractures
and cuts all over his body.”
“And he doesn’t remember anything?”
Garth shook his head. “Hey, Simon, I’m back,” he called. “We’ve got ourselves a guest.”
“I’m in my room,” Simon called back, his voice thin but full of humor. “Oh wait, that’s where I always am. ‘Cause I’m stuck here like an invalid.”
Garth grinned. It hadn’t taken Simon long to get comfortable. He was a pretty cool kid, especially considering his father. “Can you hear the tiny violins?” he replied.
There was a crack of laughter from Simon’s room. “You suck at sympathy, Garth.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a clown. We do laughter, not tears.”
Garth glanced back at the doctor and then led her down the hallway. He opened the door to Simon’s room and waved her in ahead of him. Simon still looked pretty rough, his face banged up, bruises and cuts over his whole body. He was also in a fair amount of pain, but he never complained about it. He was a brave kid. Garth’s chest constricted every time he thought about what happened to him.
He wondered whether it really was for the best, to want Simon to regain his memory. It would only lead to more pain, the knowledge that his own father had harmed him for the sake of a hollow vendetta against people he didn’t even know. From what Simon had said, Hugo had been a great father for most of his life.
It was hard to know what had changed, but the man they’d met at the Carnival a few weeks ago had been a few hinges short of a door. Would it really help Simon to know what kind of a crazy person his father had become?
But there was an instinct, a gut feeling he relied on, that said Simon needed to get his memory back. It would help him heal and be whole again, much more than if they let him live this memory-fogged life.
