F Paul Wilson - Novel 05 (15 page)

 
          
"But
it didn't happen with both memories."

 
          
"It
may depend on the memories themselves, how deep they go, the types of feelings
attached to them. Or maybe it has to do with the other memories they lead to.
Or perhaps it can't happen if you're
present
in that memory. Whatever
the reason, Julie, you'd better prepare yourself for some upsetting experiences
in there. But remember, memories aren't photographs. They're not reality. They
are stored perceptions colored by emotions and revised by time and intervening
experience. They get embellished, changed, merged
—
"

 
          
"I
know that."

 
          
"Of
course you do. And you mustn't forget it. You must remain objective in your
sister's memoryscape
—
because everything you see
is subjective."

 
          
Julie
nodded. Then, remembering that Dr. Siegal couldn't see her, she said, "Got
it, Dr. S."

 
          
His
expression became stern. "And one thing I insist upon, Julie: Do not go
into that memoryscape alone. I must be online during every excursion."

 
          
"Do
you really think that's necessary? The time difference makes
—
"

 
          
"Nonnegotiable,
Julie. If you get in trouble in there, I want to be on-line to help you out of
it."

 
          
Yielding
to an infantile impulse, she stuck her tongue out at his image. She didn't want
to make a promise she might not keep, so she simply said, "I
understand."

 
          
He
smiled. "Now
—
I'm late for a class. So
good-bye." He waved, and the little video window disappeared.

2

 
          
A
light rain started just as they took their table at the bistro. Julie looked
around the cramped Le Chien Qui Fume. Checkered tablecloths, wire-back chairs,
everything looking like castoffs from a traveling company of
La
Bofieme.
She guessed it was not the type of place Eathan frequented. More Samantha's kind
of joint, oozing local color.

           
Julie gestured around her.
"One of your discoveries?"

           
He smiled. "Actually I heard
about it from
—
"

           
Julie nodded. "Sam? Yeah, it
reeks of
Bohemia
."

           
Eathan looked concerned. "We
could go somewhere else."

           
Julie shrugged. "No. It's
fine." She took a breath. "You must think I'm made of stone."

           
"No. Not at all."

           
Eathan pushed back his glasses.
They kept slipping down, giving his already thoughtful face an even more
avuncular expression.

 
          
He
was made to be a professor.

 
          
He
reached out and patted her hand. "No, you're not stone. I long ago
accepted the fact that you and your sister were quite different." A small
smile played on his lips. "Couldn't be more different."

 
          
The
waiter appeared at Eathan's shoulder.

 
          
"Julia?"
Eathan said, raising his eyebrows.

 
          
She
searched her memory for the words.

 
          
"Un
citron presse, s'il vous pkat,"
she said to the waiter.

 
          
"Nothing
to eat?" Eathan said.

 
          
She
shook her head.

 
          
Eathan
ordered a
cafe au hit
and onion soup.

 
          
"Your
sister told me that the soup here is 'to die for.' But back to differences
..."

 
          
"Yes,
we're different, okay. But Sam's difficult to care about. She's so damned
self-destructive."

 
          
A
blue Gauloises truck passed by, belching smoke from its rear. The exhaust
drifted in through the open doors of the bistro.

 
          
"No
one's judging you, Julie. You don't have to attack Sam."

 
          
Julie
smiled. "Oh, yes. Someone is judging me. I am." She wanted to change
the subject. "Did you learn anything about the roses?"

 
          
He
shook his head. "No. Paid for in cash by a man no one remembers. It's a
busy florist. But the Sainte Gabrielle security man told me some disturbing news:
They've had a prowler."

 
          
Julie
tensed. "A break-in?"

 
          
"No.
Just someone spotted on the grounds at night, sneaking around, peeking in
windows."

 
          
"Maybe
it's just a peeping Tom."

 
          
Eathan
looked away. "He's been seen consistently near the south wing on Sam's
side."

 
          
Now
she was uneasy. "You think it might be this Liam O'-Donnell?"

 
          
"I'd
be willing to bet money on it."

 
          
The
waiter returned with their order. Julie glanced up and caught the skinny man
looking her over, exerting his Frenchman's prerogative.

           
"Tell me, Julie
—
what do you think about what you saw in Sam's memoryscape?
Any clues about what happened?"

 
          
Julie
sipped her lemonade. She looked left, feeling eyes on her. The bony waiter was
standing next to another
garqon,
both now eyeing her. Julie wondered if
she should stare the creep down or perhaps get up and
—

 
          
Temper,
temper, she told herself. I could never live in this country.

 
          
She
took a breath. "Clues?"

 
          
"About
what did this to Samantha."

 
          
"None.
At least not yet. But I've only scratched the surface."

 
          
Eathan
pushed his glasses back. He took a sip of his coffee. His face looked grim,
terribly concerned.

 
          
"Could
it have been rape? We saw her with that man, Liam."

 
          
Julie
sighed. "There's no way to tell. It will take a lot more work. I want to
go in again and
—
"

 
          
"What
did your mentor think of all this?"

 
          
No
sense in bringing Eathan into her ongoing debate with Dr. S. She chose her
words carefully, opting for obliquity. "I'm going to continue."

 
          
Eathan
shook his head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Julie. I want to find
out what happened as much as you do, you know that, but
—
"

 
          
Julie
leaned close to her uncle. "I need more time in there. If I
—
"

 
          
Eathan
raised a hand and stared at her. He had piercing eyes that seemed to see right
through her. Julie always suspected chat Eathan could read her like a book. She
could have no secrets from him. And yet he always understood and forgave
whatever his twin nieces did.

 
          
Not
that I ever gave him that much trouble, Julie thought.

 
          
Eathan
shook his head. "Julie, I saw the devastation. It looks hopeless. You have
a life to live. I'll take care of Sam; I'll get the best care, and
—
"

 
          
"No!"
The force behind the word surprised Julie. "I mean,
I’m
not giving up. There are
accessible memories. You saw Oakwood
—
"

 
          
"Is
that why you want to go back in? Because thoughts and memories about you were
there when this happened?"

 
          
This
was something she wanted to discuss with Eathan.

           
Why did Sam have this old memory of
their righting in the mansion? Why was Sam's memory of her young sister so
close to the surface?

 
          
And
why had it been altered?

 
          
"What
was that sculpture again?" she asked. "You said it was
—
"

 
          
"Cellini's
Perseus.
As I remember, Perseus slew Medusa. Cut off her head and
delivered it to someone or other. I forget, myself."

 
          
Strange,
so strange. She had to go in and probe further.

 
          
And
again, that unsettling question: How much of this drive to push on was being
fueled by concern for Sam, how much by mere scientific curiosity, and how much
by the sheer voyeuristic thrill of reassembling the shattered pieces of her
sister's life?

 
          
"I've
got to see more," she said.

 
          
Eathan's
nod was slow and reluctant. He always recognized her resolve. Like the time
Julie insisted that she was going to
New York
University
, across the ocean
—
as far away from Sam and Eathan as possible. No amount of
discussion would change her mind.

 
          
"Very
well," he said through a sigh. "I understand that this is something
you need to do. I just hope it is the right thing
—
and
for the right reasons."

 
          
The
waiter returned, wiping his hands on a serviette sashed to his belt.

 
          
"Quelque
chose plus, Monsieur?"

 
          
Eathan
looked at Julie, who shook her head. Then he asked for the check.

 
          
Julie
looked outside and saw the glow of the bistro's neon sign, a squat dog with a
cigarette in his mouth, reflecting on the pavement.

 
          
She
wanted to hurry back to the hospital. Back to her sleeping sister, a tainted
fairy princess now locked away in her own mental dungeon.

 
          
I'm
locked in there too, Julie thought. A piece of me
—
as
a little girl. And who else, what else?

 
          
"Ready?"
Eathan said.

 
          
Julie
stood up and followed her uncle toward the door of the smoky bistro.

 
          
More
than ready.

3

 
          
As
they passed through the front entrance of the nursing home, Eathan said,
"I need to make some calls regarding Samantha."

 
          
"About
what?"

 
          
"About
her future disposition. I'm concerned about security here. It shouldn't take
too long. Do you want to wait.
⁷
"

 
          
"I've
got some odds and ends to take care of in Sam's room. Need to shut down the
system for the night. That'll take a while."