“Yes, I under—”

Emily stopped his response. “No! I want answers, and I’m sure the others here will need to know. First, is Claire uncomfortable or in pain?”

“Mrs. Vandersol, the patient has been maintained in a static state of comfort—which I believe is the problem.”

Everyone in the room turned toward Emily. To the observers, it was like watching a tennis match: all heads turned one way and then they turned the other.

July 26, 2016

Today, Ms. Bali called and asked me to come in early. Since Claire has been doing well with me bringing her meals—she asked if I’d take her on a walk. Apparently, there was some big meeting regarding her diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment. Everyone associated with her care had to attend. I wish I’d been at the meeting, but Emily was probably there, so it was better I wasn’t.

I know I should write about the walk. That’s the whole point, right? Record my thoughts and comments so that I can later come back and see if any progress was made—have a basis for writing the follow-up to my book. Well, here’s the thing; I don’t want to. Oh, I want to stay with Claire. I want to help her—but for a journalist who’s supposed to be indifferent—I picked the wrong project.

Just in case I don’t remember when I come back to read—on the way home from Everwood, I stopped at the store and bought a bottle of wine. No—it isn’t the normal size—it’s the big one!

I hated it today! I went to her room—and surprise—Claire was sitting in the chair by the window. When she saw me and heard my voice, she went to the table to eat. Keep in mind, she’d just eaten! I explained that I was taking her on her walk. At first, she didn’t budge. I just kept talking about the outside. Finally, she stood. I stepped closer, like I’d seen the other woman do and Emily do. Claire didn’t move. I had to reach for her hand and place it on my arm.

After that, she stayed in step as we walked through the facility. The part that broke my heart was that when we went outside she didn’t look up. She kept her eyes downcast and walked wherever I led. I remember her stories, the ones of her at her lake on the Rawlings Estate. She’d talk about her love of the outside, the breeze in her hair, and the sun on her skin. I think I was expecting to see some sort of recognition or excitement; instead, there was nothing.

I hated that she had to be subdued when our eyes first met in the cafeteria a month ago, but honestly, I’d rather have a negative reaction than none! I think I’m done writing for tonight. I have more wine to drink!

Michael, Nichol, and John finished their dinners while Emily continued to pick at the food on her plate. She heard the chatter, but her mind kept replaying Dr. Fairfield’s words, No, the patient has been maintained in a static state of comfort—which I believe is the problem.

Indignantly, she listened as Dr. Fairfield hypothesized that Claire’s current provisions were too good. In essence, he blamed Emily’s directives on Claire’s compliance. He went on to discuss Claire’s history of compliance and adaptability.

Emily argued internally, too good?! Her sister was detached from the world, living in a place that wasn’t real. How could he possibly think that was too good? Besides, Dr. Fairfield’s resources weren’t primary! Wasn’t that an essential element of research—primary resources? The only way he could’ve learned about Claire’s past, from those who knew first hand, those who were there, would be to interview Claire or Anthony. Obviously, that hadn’t happened. He had to have researched not only Emily’s accounts, which she confessed were second hand, or read Meredith’s book. Yes, the book was relatively accurate, but even that had an element of fiction. The blatant truth would be too difficult for the world to read.

So what? So Claire had survived her ordeal by complying and adapting. That was because if she didn’t, then Anthony would punish her. Claire’s current situation wasn’t even remotely similar. How could he suggest it was?

That was what he’d said—he said, the accommodating surroundings worked to mold Claire’s behavior. By not requiring her to face the consequences of her past, they were allowing Claire to live in her make-believe world.

The way Emily saw it, she was affording her sister the safe haven she’d been denied.

The sound of laughter returned Emily’s thoughts to present. Focusing on the table, she watched Michael giggle as Nichol blew bubbles in her milk.

“Nichol! What are you doing? Don’t teach your cousin those things!” Emily’s unusually harsh tone surprised everyone. She saw the shock in her husband’s eyes.

Nichol’s brown eyes, that only seconds ago glistened with laughter, were suddenly brimming with tears and looking down. “I’m sorry, Aunt Em.”

John stood and reached for the children’s plates. Keeping his voice steady, he reassured, “It’s all right, honey. Aunt Emily’s tired. You’re fine; no mess. How about you two go upstairs and let Becca help you get your pajamas on, and we’ll make some popcorn.”

Peeking her eyes upward, Nichol asked, “Can we watch a movie?”

“Sure we can,” Emily’s voice softened. “I am tired; I’m sorry that I snapped. If you two hurry then we can all cuddle in our bed.” As small feet rushed out of the dining room with their nanny, Emily’s head dropped and her tears flowed. It wasn’t until John’s hands massaged her shoulders that she found the courage to speak. “Do you think he’s right?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that we haven’t seen much progress in the last year. I think it’s worth a try.”

“I don’t want her to have to face—I don’t want her to have to deal with—”

John helped Emily stand. “I know what you want. You want Claire well, and her past gone. That’s not going to happen.”

Emily’s cheek settled against John’s chest. She listened as he repeated everything Dr. Fairfield said earlier. It may have been the quiet setting of their dining room, his tender embrace, or the relief from allowing the tears to finally surface—no matter the reason, John’s words made sense. Nodding her head, Emily replied, “I guess I get it, but I still don’t want her to have to deal with memories of him.”

Pulling her close, John whispered, “She’s survived more than most. Maybe these past few years have been a well-deserved break. As much as you want to, you can’t keep the truth from her forever. When she’s stronger, she’ll be able to face it, and perhaps this new protocol will help her get stronger.”

Emily conceded, “I’ll call Dr. Brown tomorrow and give my okay.”

Darkness restores what light cannot repair.

—Joseph Brodsky

Madeline and Francis met Claire and her guests on the lanai. Francis shook Phil’s hand as the two men exchanged familiar greetings. Still holding Tony’s hand, Claire introduced him, “Madeline and Francis, let me introduce Anthony Rawlings.”

Madeline’s smile lit the room. “Monsieur, we’re so happy to have you with us before your fille arrives.”

Claire smiled. She’d never mentioned Tony to Madeline; she wondered how she knew he was the father of her baby. Looking up at Tony’s expression, Claire realized what Madeline had just said and squeezed his hand. “No, I haven’t learned our baby’s sex; however, Madeline seems to believe we’re having a girl.”