Brunonia Barry - The Map of True Places

She wasn’t sure.

“Go,” he said.

She did go home, and she did sleep.

And though Finch didn’t wake up, Melville sat with him for the rest of the day.

IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, Finch was allowed a few visitors. Mickey came by. He brought Finch a chop-suey sandwich from the Willows and Zee a bag of the popcorn he knew she liked. Finch didn’t wake up enough to eat, and Mickey ended up consuming the sandwich.

Finch slept most of the time, and when he did wake up, he seemed more confused than usual, as much a product of the continuing painkillers as the dementia. Ann came to visit every afternoon, bringing tea and novels from Cornerstone Books for Zee to read. She loaded her iPod with music she knew Zee would like and loaned it to her.

Melville came by every day after work, though he always sat in a chair by the door and didn’t speak much while he was there. Whenever Finch’s eyes blinked awake, Melville would slip out the door so quietly it was almost as if he’d never been there at all.

THE LABOR DAY SAIL was scheduled to leave the wharf at 6:00 P.M. on Friday. Hawk got to the Friendship just as they were casting off.

“I figured you weren’t coming,” Josh said. “Thought maybe you’d run off with Zee and gotten yourself married.”

“No such luck,” Hawk said. If there was any way he could have gotten out of this commitment, he would have done it. He didn’t want to be anyplace near Salem. But he’d given his word. They were heading north to the Isles of Shoals for the weekend, stopping for an event on Star Island. Many of the historic tall ships were making the trip, which was essentially a benefit to raise money for the National Park Foundation. There would be pirates and privateers and people singing sea chanteys and telling maritime ghost stories. Same old same old, Hawk thought. The weekend was advertised as “Labor Day Fun for the Whole Family.” There was nothing Hawk wanted to do less. At least they weren’t staying for the Monday holiday. They would be home late Sunday night.

ANN CHASE WALKED ACROSS PICKERING Wharf and back toward her store. Mickey Doherty was being even more ridiculous today than usual. She’d come over to complain about his monkey. Mini Mick had jumped on her cat, Persephone, from the top of the window box where Ann grew her herbs. When he tried to ride the cat, she went wild and dug scratches into the monkey’s face.

Ann was an animal person, and she certainly felt bad about the monkey’s injuries, but maybe this time Mini Mick would learn a lesson.

“Sounds like my boy got what he deserved,” Mickey said, putting the monkey into the cage he’d fashioned out of an old supply closet, its door removed and replaced with chicken wire. As the cage doors closed, Mini Mick began to masturbate enthusiastically.

Mickey chose that moment to ask Ann out to dinner.

It was unfortunate timing, and she frowned in response.

“Is that your answer?”

For a long time, Mickey had been telling Ann she should ditch the guys she usually favored and go out with him.

“Come on, time to give up the crunchy granolas and the weird war-locks and give me a go,” he said. “I’ve been asking you out for the last three years.”

“More like five,” she said.

“Okay, five. I’m clearly quite persistent.”

She turned back to face him. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?”

“Maybe,” he said. “That depends on how it goes.”

“Forget it,” Ann said, heading for the door.

“Okay, okay, just one date and I’ll leave you alone.” He crossed his heart.

“Saturday at five. Finz,” Ann said, naming a local restaurant she favored.

“Five? What are we, senior citizens?”

“Take it or leave it,” she said.

“Okay, okay, Finz at five.”

“And leave the damned monkey at home,” she said.

ON SATURDAY MORNING ZEE moved Finch to rehabilitative care at one of the nursing homes she had interviewed and rejected.

If Finch minded, he didn’t say so. His bruises had started to yellow, and his breathing was easier. But his injuries had left him unable to stand. He would need a lot of physical therapy before he could walk again.

Zee checked him in, then sat while they tested him. That he recognized Zee’s face was a relief to her, though he couldn’t seem to recall her name. He failed his cognitive-skills test.

“That could be the drugs,” the nurse said. “He’s still on a low dose of oxycodone.”

The nursing home told her they would quickly wean him off the drug.

“Won’t he need something for the pain when they start physical therapy?”

“Yes, but probably something milder.”

She didn’t want Finch here. But for now it was the only choice. He couldn’t be cared for at home as yet, that much was clear.

She followed the administrator to the office to fill out more paperwork.

“Does he have a health-care proxy?” the admitting nurse asked.

“I don’t think so,” Zee said.

“Does he have a wife?”

“She’s deceased.”

“Any other children?”

“Just me,” she said.

“What about a DNR?”

“A Do Not Resuscitate form?” Zee asked.

The nurse nodded.

“I don’t know.”

“If he doesn’t have a health-care proxy, he probably doesn’t have a DNR.”

She thought about Finch’s skills as organizer. He had a tendency to let things slide.

“Probably not,” she said.

“It’s a good thing to have,” the nurse said. “In cases like this. You can’t do anything until the doctor declares him mentally incompetent, though. After that you can probably sign a DNR for him.”

Zee thought about the AMTS test they had just taken. Finch had been able to pass about a third of it before. This time he hadn’t been able to answer a single question.

“I plan to bring him home when he’s better,” Zee said.

The nurse looked doubtful but didn’t comment.

ZEE DECIDED TO KEEP JESSINA on even after Finch left the house. Sometimes she asked her to go to the nursing home so that Finch would have more company, and sometimes she had her work on the house, cleaning out and sorting the years of papers Finch had collected.

Over the last months, Zee had become friends with Jessina and Danny, whom she sometimes brought to work with her if they needed help cleaning or moving things around. Jessina kept baking, taking Finch cookies or cupcakes every time she went to visit, sharing the extras with the nursing staff. These days the old house on Turner Street always smelled like a bakery, which provided a comforting feeling that Zee appreciated a lot. In a way it was too bad they weren’t selling the house, Zee thought. The aroma of baking alone would have brought bidders to the table.

One day when they were cleaning out, Danny found a pile of eight-by-ten black-and-white photos under some old school papers Finch had saved. He was showing them to Jessina when Zee came into the room.

“These are beautiful,” Jessina said. “Why did he not hang them up?”

Zee looked over their shoulders at the photos. “Finch took those,” she said. There were several pictures of Zee and of Melville and many more of the House of the Seven Gables taken from the street, all with dates and descriptions. Zee couldn’t answer Jessina’s question. For some reason Finch had never displayed any of his photos.

“Look at this one,” Jessina said, holding up a picture of Maureen. “That’s your mother, yes?”

Maureen was young in the photo, early twenties if she was that. She was dressed in a stylish suit, and around her was a halo of mist. Her smile seemed so innocent and full of promise that it startled Zee.