Remember Me (9 page)

         
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“Doctor Parker, can I have a word?” Joy Bishop called the moment Brett stepped out of the lab.
His back still to her, he quickly but nonchalantly stuffed the items he held in his right hand into his jacket pocket. Turning to address his younger colleague, he put on his most pleasant smile. “Yes, what is it?”
“Doctor Parker, Mrs. Mortenson’s husband is demanding another psychologist take over her care.”
Unable to help himself, the smile vanished in an instant, and was replaced by something far more unpleasant. “Doctor Bishop, no one else will see to her care but me. While I can understand his concerns for her welfare, HE needs to understand that I’m her doctor because that’s the way she wants it. This supposed husband of hers, well, he’ll just have to accept that and learn to live with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.” he said, then turned and walked away.
“Listen, doctor……” she called after him, but was ignored.
Turning a corner, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t following him. Satisfied, he slipped quietly into another patient’s room, glad to see that the room’s occupant, a male patient, was sleeping. Taking the vials of blood from his pocket, he peeled the labels off, wadded them into a ball, and tossed them into the wastebasket. The unmarked vials he tossed into the hazardous waste container. “Blood tests gone, and the orders for them removed from the computer.” he muttered with an evil smirk.
Pleased with himself, he left the room quietly to see Cassandra, aware that he needed to reinforce his hypnotic suggestions to her.
These idiots aren’t smart enough to catch a man like me, at anything…
he thought as he passed a nurse in the hallway and smiled at her pleasantly.

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Joy frowned, wondering what Doctor Parker had meant by calling Granger, the
supposed husband
. The whole situation between him and Cassandra just seemed off-kilter somehow. Personally, she felt the ethical thing for the doctor to have done would have been referring Cassandra to another doctor, if for no other reason than to satisfy her husband. Somehow she suspected the woman wasn’t in the best of hands, and was completely unaware of it.
“Joy, we need to talk.” Raidon’s frustrated voice cut through her thoughts.
Sighing, she turned around to see her brother standing there, and from the determined look on his face she knew he was up to something. She had never understood why she always let
him pull her into his schemes. He had been doing it since they were children, and usually she was the one who ended up taking the heat. Holding her hands up, she said, “Raidon, if this is about the Cassandra Mortenson issue, I just spoke to Doctor Parker, and he made it clear HE’S treating her, and no one else. And if I take a piss on his territory, it could be bad for my career, trust me. He’s golfing buddies with the chief of staff, and he’s on the board himself here.”
Knowing his sister well, he what he always did. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he looked down at her and gave her a playful pout. “Come on, sis! When your dumb cat was lost, wasn’t I the one who dropped all my important work and found the fleabag for you? When your Mr. Ed looking friend didn’t have a date for whatshername’s wedding, and you asked me to take her, didn’t I do it for you? Didn’t I suffer one of the most miserable days of my life, just for you? The mere thought of it makes me shudder! That coyote ugly girl slobbering all over my jacket and hunching my leg on the dance floor. You don’t know how drunk I had to get to endure that night.”
Looking up at him wearily, amusement flickered in her eyes. The boy knew she loved him, loved him so much she would do anything for him. Groaning and shaking her head, she moaned, “What the hell? I’m in this up to my cute little butt. Tell you what, buy me dinner, then tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it. But this time, it’s you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Soooo….my friend Carrie needs someone to cheer her up, she’s been unusually lonely and sad lately. You can scratch my back by taking her out to dinner and a movie, and giving her a little TLC. She needs to feel special.” she replied, and nearly laughed when he cringed.
“You can’t possibly mean…that…that chick who looks like Sheneneh, from The Martin Lawrence show? The one whose eyes are so crossed you can never tell who she’s looking at? The woman who can probably lift five times her weight with one hand, while bitch-slapping me around the room with the other? Don’t you have any good-looking friends?” he whined, nearly causing her to laugh out loud again. “Or at the very least, ones who don’t have warts or a mustache? Or both?
”
Trying to give him a stern look, she was unable to pull it off. Slapping his arm playfully she giggled briefly, unable to help it. “Stop it! She’s a nice person! She has a wonderful personality, and she’s very smart. Looks aren’t everything, you know! If you want my help, you call her right now, while I’m watching you, mister! Ask her out on a date for tomorrow night.”
Just think ‘crack the case!’ Granger Mortenson’s gonna’ pay me enough to buy that Vette, with enough left over to get Pops his bass boat…
he thought. Glaring at her and looking as if he’d just eaten a dozen sour persimmons, he handed his cell phone to her and watched in morose silence as she dialed her friend’s number.
Finished, she handed it back to him with an innocent, angelic smile.
The faint ringing sounding like funeral bells to him, he raised the phone to his ear and
waited, praying silently that she wouldn’t be home.
“Hello?" a voice answered.
No such luck, of course….
he thought miserably.
“Well, hello there, beautiful!" he answered, amazed himself that he had actually sounded sincere.
“Hi…” the voice replied cautiously, before asking, “Who is this?”
“Shene…I mean, Carrie, it’s me, Raidon Bishop! Listen, sis was just telling me you might be free tomorrow evening. How about dinner or…something. Are you free?” Holding the phone several inches away from his ear at her squeals of excitement, he said loudly, “I’ll take that as a yes! Listen, I’ll call you later to set things up, I’ve got to run for now.
Bye!"
Flipping the phone shut, he glared at his sister. “There now, are you happy? And you know there’s no way I can back out of it, because you would hear about it from her. Just try to not feel too guilty when someone discovers my raped and battered body in her cellar, chained to a wall. With a pink collar around my neck, to boot, with the word
BITCH
spelled out in rhinestones.”
“Just be nice. Well, come on, since you’re paying, we‘re going to Red Lobster!” she snickered.
 

                                                        Chapter 9

Jocelyn took several deep breaths as she stood nervously outside the private room Granger had arranged for her daughter to be transferred to. She was grateful Cynne’ had managed to convince Cassandra to allow her to visit, but she still refused to see or even speak to Granger.
Clutching the bag full of items she had purchased for her daughter in the gift shop, she opened the door and stepped inside, praying silently
. Please, let me reach my child. Please help her to remember me
. As the door shut behind her, she covered her mouth with her free hand to cover her joyous sob. Sitting on the bed was her daughter, sipping on a soda as a nurse checked her vitals.
Cassandra looked at the woman, then titled her head, studying her. Something was pulling at her from deep within, something telling her she should know the woman. Perhaps it was because she and the woman had similar features, the same color eyes, and build.
Sitting on the other side of the bed Cynne’ smiled, hoping to ease Jocelyn’s nervousness, and motioned for her to come closer. She waited until the nurse had left the room, then gently touched her friend’s shoulder, hoping to give her some encouragement and support. “Ka…. Cassandra, this is your mother, Jocelyn Ames.” she said in a soft voice.
Still uncomfortable being addressed as Cassandra, she remained silent, unable to deny the proof Doctor Bishop had provided her with, proof that confirmed this stranger was indeed her biological mother.
What do I say to this woman?
She
wondered. Looking away awkwardly, she placed her drink on the bedside table and sat back against the pillows.
Oh Lord I want to hold her in my arms and tell her how much she means to me! I want to grab my baby and never let go again..
Jocelyn thought, but wisely heeded Cynne‘s advice about not spooking or upsetting her daughter so soon. “I uhhh…picked up a few things for you, since you’ll be here for a few more days.” she said, doing her best to hide her disappointment at her daughter’s initial reaction to her. “ I got you a night shirt you can wear instead of that dreadful hospital gown, and some socks, too. You know how you…well, you used to like to sleep with them, because you hated for your feet to get cold.”
Cassandra watched as her mother pulled out an assortment of toiletries from the bag, and was surprised to see that all the items were brands she liked and used on a routine basis. She had even bought her new underwear. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought that this was what she had wished many times, having a mother who fussed over her. Someone she could spend time with and draw strength from. The entire time she had thought she was an orphan, she had found herself wondering about her real mother on many occasions. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you, really.” she said in a voice so soft Jocelyn almost didn’t hear her.
Very slowly, so as to not alarm her, she gently stroked her daughter’s cheek with one hand as she blinked back tears. “For three years I’ve prayed for you to come back home safe, and my prayers were answered. And your son Regan will be so happy to hear his mommy is coming home, wait till’ you see him, he has grown so much!”
Stunned, and uncertain she had heard correctly, she frowned and shook her head. “Son?” she asked in a confused voice as she first looked at her mother, then at her best friend.
Jocelyn hoped she hadn’t said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, but she had hoped telling her about Regan would spark some lost memory of the life she had before that sick animal had attacked her and took her away.
“Now now, don’t let that upset you, I just want to show you something." she assured her in a calming voice.
Reaching down into the bag she pulled out a thick photo album. With a smile of pride, she opened the book and laid it gently on her daughter’s lap. Pointing at a large school photo, she said, “Your son, Regan Stephen Mortenson. He’s six years old, he was born January 6th, 2001. He’s smart as a whip, and the sweetest child anyone could ever want.”
Picking up the photo album with hands that shook slightly, she felt her heart flutter as she looked closely at the photo. The child looked familiar, yet…not familiar. And the sight of him made her suddenly feel sad, lonely, and empty. Almost unaware of it herself, tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she gazed at him. Suddenly she gasped, as it finally hit her.
Oh my God, I’ve seen him before, in my dreams! 
She
thought. Not bothering to wipe
the tears away she took the picture out and handed it to Cynne’. “So, this is my son….” she choked, letting the image burn in her mind.
Gazing at the picture, her own lips began to tremble. After what seemed like hours, she finally managed to tear her gaze away, and grabbed several Kleenex from the box on the bedside table. Leaning forward, she gently dried the tears from her friend‘s face. “He’s so beautiful, he has your smile.” she said.
Nodding, she began flipping the pages slowly, studying every photo in excruciating detail. As she did, her mother, who was now seated beside her, regaled her with stories, one for each photograph. When she came across a photo of herself, apparently pregnant, the moment became even more surreal to her because of who else was in the photograph. In the picture she was sitting on the ground, her hands resting on her large belly. Sitting behind her, with his arms wrapped around her, was the man who was claiming he was her husband. Granger.
“This was taken two days before Regan was born."
Jocelyn explained. “Granger was so excited, and let me tell you, that man was sooo funny when you went into labor.” she said, and chuckled at the memory. “He was barking orders like a Marine drill sergeant, trying to tell everyone how to do their job. The man must have read two hundred books on childbirth after he found out you were pregnant. The doctor who was delivering the baby finally got so fed up with him, he told him if he didn’t shut up and just stand there and hold your hand, he would have him kicked not only out of the delivery room, but the entire hospital.”
To her own surprise, Cassandra suddenly found herself laughing along with Cynne’, at Jocelyns’ story.
Encouraged that some anecdote might spark her daughter’s memory, she continued. “Granger is usually so in control, but let me tell you, after you went into hard labor, every time you winced in pain, he would demand that they do something. He didn’t want to hear it was natural for you to feel pain. He kept claiming you were dying. He was feeling guilty for putting you through that. Child, I laughed so much that night! I saw a side of him that night I don‘t believe anyone else ever has.”
Looking at her friend closely, Cynne’ saw something in Cassandra she had never seen before, her laughter was full of joy, and it showed on her lovely features. And hearing about her son seemed to put a glow there she had never seen as well.
Reaching out gently, Jocelyn took Cassandra’s hand in hers, and happiness washed over her when her daughter gave it a squeeze, and held on. “When that baby was delivered, that husband of yours was crying and carrying on so, he had to be helped out of the delivery room. He swore he would never put you through that again, it just about killed him seeing you in pain, knowing there was nothing he could do.” she smiled, remembering how two nurses had helped the pale man out of the delivery room. It had taken them nearly twenty minutes to calm him down.
She remembered Granger looking up at her, his blue eyes glowing with unshed tears, and saying, “I’ll never forget the pain she suffered. I thank God for my son, but I can’t see her like that again. I won’t hurt her like that again”