Blackout

Head throbbing, the young girl squinted so she could see better out of her swollen left eye as she trudged along the side of the dark, lonely road. A vehicle rumbled behind her. She turned around but didn’t have the energy to even lift her arm to wave. The small car barely slowed down, so she started walking once more.

Up ahead, the car backed up. Both hope and fear welled up inside her. When the car stopped, the driver rolled down the passenger-side window and turned on the dome light. Classical music floated toward her. Inside, she saw a young man with blond hair and blue eyes staring at her. If she hadn’t been so weary, she would have thought him cute. Instead, she only felt indifference.

“Need a lift?”

She nodded. She moved like an old woman, slowly, carefully placing herself on the seat, gently closing the door.

“You all right?” he asked, concern in his voice. “You’re a little banged up.”

“I’m okay,” she mumbled.

“You’re sure?” When she nodded, he asked, “Where you headed?” He ejected a tape from the deck and turned off the radio.

“Anywhere,” she answered. He seemed nice enough, but she shivered slightly and hugged herself.

“Anywhere?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “What’s your name? Mine’s Donald Harris. I’m on my way home to Valleyview.”

He waited. She glanced at him, looked away.

“I’m… I’m Alice. Alice… Strong.” The name came to her with difficulty. She wasn’t quite sure it was right. Staring out the side window, she touched her head gingerly where the blood had clotted. She winced. Why couldn’t she remember what had happened to her?

“Sure you don’t need a doctor? Want to call anyone?”

“Oh, no! No, I’m all right. Need a bath.” She wished her head would stop throbbing. And what was the matter with her eye?

He drove on, quiet for a while, but kept glancing at her sideways.

“I’ve been visiting my parents,” he said. “Dad’s a doctor. Mom does volunteer work with the hospital auxiliary and belongs to the Garden Club and the Bridge Club. I’m amazed they don’t object to what I do.”

When she kept staring out the window, he continued, “Anyway, I’m a minister of a very small community church I started in Valleyview. Only have fifteen members so far, but we’re strong and trying to grow.”

Alice didn’t say anything. She didn’t know exactly what he meant by a community church, but didn’t want to sound ignorant, so didn’t ask.

“Well, anyway.” Donald cleared his throat. “Of course, I don’t make much money as a minister to fifteen people, so I do the maintenance work at Merry Hills Nursing Home. I don’t know which thing should upset my parents more—my being a maintenance man or a minister. But it doesn’t seem to bother them. They just keep saying, ‘As long as you’re happy, son,’ and then ask if there’s a woman in my life.” He laughed. “Yeah, I’m twenty-three. Time to think about getting married. But who’d want me? Either they’re turned off because I’m a minister or they don’t like the fact I’ll never make much money as a maintenance man.”

“Money isn’t everything,” Alice said softly.

“That’s right.” Donald smiled at her. “That’s so true. Very profound for a young girl like yourself. How old are you, anyway?”

She looked out the side window again. “Eighteen. I’m eighteen.” She
thought
she might be eighteen.

“You married?”

“No.” The denial came quickly although she wasn’t sure about that, either. She glanced at her left ring finger. Bare.

“Mother, father, sisters, brothers?” She could only shake her head. “I’m an only kid myself. All the more reason you’d think my parents would be upset by my career choices. Hey, you seem tired. There’s a pillow in the back somewhere. Why don’t you grab it and take a nap?”

She felt relieved, and a small sigh escaped her. “That would be great.” She grimaced from the pain in her shoulder and arm as she turned to get the pillow. Managing to pull it toward her, she placed it against the window to rest her head. Her eyes closed.

It didn’t seem like any time at all had passed when she heard a voice say, “Alice. Alice.” Coming awake slowly, she kept her eyes scrunched shut, stretched, and yawned. She tried opening her eyes, but only the right one opened all the way. Confused for a moment, she quickly remembered the minister and his car.

“We’re in Valleyview, and now you have to make a decision. I know a lady, a member of my church, who would take you in, no questions asked. She’s done it before—lets young people stay with her until they get their bearings. Want to give it a try?”

“What’s she like?” Her stomach knotted with nervousness. She straightened up in the seat and tossed the pillow to the back.

“Oh, you’ll like Hannah. Everyone does. She’s funny and nice but won’t let anyone walk all over her. She’ll expect you to help out in the house, get work, pay your keep. Not right away. Not until you feel up to it. You’ll like her, Alice, I’m sure. Do you have any other ideas?”

“No. No, I guess not.” What could she say? She’d checked her pockets. She had no money. She had no memory, which was worse. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

“All right, then.” Donald made a left turn. As they rode through town, he pointed out the library, an elementary school, the courthouse, and a grocery store.

“And that’s Merry Hills Nursing Home over there.” He waved at an odd-shaped building. The front section was old and white, in a Victorian style, but she saw brick wings spreading to the sides and toward the back.

“It’s big, strange-looking,” she said, just for something to say.

“Yeah. Originally it was a house, and the family sold it. The nursing home bought it and added three wings. You can’t see the one that goes straight back very well from here. It keeps me busy.” He made another turn and stopped in front of a large, one-story clapboard with a wraparound porch. Fresh paint gleamed in the lamplight—white with green trim. He helped her out of the car. She had stiffened up quite a bit.

As they came up the front walk, a woman opened the door. “I thought I heard your car, Donald.” The woman appeared sturdy in her jeans, oxford shirt, and Nikes. Her short gray hair did nothing to soften her strong, square-jawed face—a kind face, Alice noticed thankfully. Blue eyes sparkled at them with life and joy, somewhat dimming as she studied Alice’s features.

Donald introduced Alice, and Hannah told them to come in.

“Hungry?” she asked.

Alice nodded.

Donald said, “You bet.”

“I made a beef stew. The bathroom’s down the hall,” she told Alice. “We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

When Alice saw herself in the bathroom mirror, she gasped. Her left eye was black and blue and swollen almost completely shut. Blood matted her hair near her forehead, and dirt covered most of the rest of her face. A scratch traveled along the length of her left arm. Her T-shirt had been torn in back, but her jeans seemed to be all in one piece. She had light brown hair and blue eyes. Since she didn’t recognize the face in the mirror, she decided it might be considered pretty. She seemed to be between about sixteen and twenty and was glad she had told Donald eighteen. At least she would be considered a legal adult. Quickly, she cleaned up her face and arms.

When she looked at herself again, a hollowness, an emptiness, overcame her. Because she could remember nothing, it was as if she didn’t exist. She decided it would be better not to tell anyone about her memory loss. They would have control over her then, would want to probe at her. Maybe even put her in an institution. Her hands became cold and clammy at the thought, and her heart pounded. She wondered why the idea made her feel so scared. Alice left the bathroom quickly so she wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

In the kitchen, Hannah motioned her to a chair and placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of her. She started eating quickly, the warmth sliding down her throat and into her belly, the spices tickling her nose, but after only three spoonsful she felt sick.

“Here,” Donald told her, “have some bread. The stew might be a little rich for you right now.”

“She needs to see a doctor,” Hannah said.

“No,” Alice protested.

“Yes. A condition of your staying here is seeing the doctor.”

Alice stared at her plate, and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

“Can you eat any more?” Hannah asked her gently. Alice shook her head. “Come on, then. I’ll show you to your room and find you a nightgown. You take a nice hot bath, and I’ll see if Dr. Henderson can come over after hours. He’s an old friend of mine, so he’ll stop by, I’m sure.”

Dr. Henderson’s gentle hands probed her wounds. He had silver hair crowning his thin face. Tall, he bent way over to examine her. His questioning was as gentle as his hands.

“Did you fall?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

“No one hit you?”

She must have waited too long to deny it because when she did, she saw the doubt on his face.

“I fell,” she said stubbornly. “I… I was hiking and fell down a hill.” But she wasn’t sure. Not knowing what happened was more horrible than the aches in her head and body. She wanted to tell him she couldn’t remember, but something made her hold back. She was afraid of what he’d do with her if he thought she couldn’t tell him one single thing about her life before Donald had picked her up on the side of the road.

He touched the gash on the top of her head. “This should be x-rayed.”

She shook her head.

“No? I can’t make you, of course. It’s not swollen, so it should be okay. But you need to rest for at least a week. No lifting, no exercising. Stay as still as you can. If it swells or the headache gets worse, have Hannah call me. You promise?”

“Yes,” she whispered, wondering how he knew she had a headache. Maybe any doctor would because of the gash in her head.

He patted her arm. “Rest now. You’re exhausted.” He put his stethoscope back in his bag and closed it with a snap. “Remember, call me if you get any worse. Or if you want to talk. I’ll come see you again tomorrow evening. My excuse to sample Hannah’s baking.”

He turned to leave.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure he heard her as the door closed behind him

Alice lay rigidly on the bed. She vaguely heard the murmur of voices in the next room but was not soothed by them.

Who am I
, she cried silently to herself.
Why can’t I remember? What happened to me?

She turned over restlessly again and again before falling into a fitful sleep.

Betty Cranston awaited the arrival of a job applicant. Donald had insisted she interview a young woman he knew—Alice Strong. Merry Hills desperately needed more full-time nurse aides, but Donald hadn’t had much information about this girl except she was “nice.”

Betty was skeptical. Nice didn’t usually last long. Couldn’t stand the dreary work and felt too sorry for the old people. What she needed were middle-aged women with strong stomachs and stronger backs.

Someone knocked lightly on the doorframe. Betty glanced up to see a frightened-looking teenager standing there.

“Come in.” Betty smiled wearily. Alice did not seem reassured. Hesitantly, she entered, handed Betty a filled-out application, and stood awkwardly next to the visitor’s chair. “You may sit.”

Alice perched on the edge of her seat, hands twisting in her lap. She wouldn’t look Betty in the eye.

Betty raised her eyebrows and began the interview. “Donald said your name is Alice Strong, and you’re eighteen years old.”

Alice nodded.

“So… tell me a little about yourself.”

Alice hesitated, then said, “Well, I left home a while ago. Wanted to make it on my own, you know. I’m living with Hannah Winston right now, and of course she thinks I should be working.”

Good for her
, Betty thought. Betty felt Hannah was crazy for taking in all the flotsam and jetsam of humanity. Someday she’d get killed for her trouble.

“How long have you been living at Hannah’s?”

“Two months.”

“You’ve worked before?”

“No, this would be my first job.”

Betty sighed audibly. “How do you feel about working with elderly people? They need a lot of care.”

“I think it would be interesting.”

“Right. Interesting. Okay. You have medical records, TB test, shot records, birth certificate, Social Security card, ID?”