Jonathan Kellerman - Silent Partner

“I told him Paul was going to arrange a meeting with Sherry and he said he knew. Then I asked if he could arrange one with Joan.”

“So he and Paul were working together.”

“They were cooperating. He was evasive about Joan, but I kept pressing him and finally he told me she was somewhere in Connecticut. I said I wanted to see her. He said there was no point- she was severely disabled, had no conscious mind to speak of. I said not only did I want to see her, I wanted to be with her, to take care of her. He said that was impossible- she required full-time care and that I should concentrate on my education. I said she was a part of me. I’d never be able to concentrate on anything else again unless I could have her with me. He thought about that, asked if I could take some time off from school, and I said sure. We drove straight to a private airport, hopped on a corporate jet to New York, then took a limousine to Connecticut. I know he thought the way she looked would change my mind. But it only made me more resolute. I lay down in bed next to her, hugged her, kissed her. Felt her vibrations. When he saw that, he agreed to move her out here. The corporation bought Resthaven and set up a private wing for her. I got to interview attendants, hand-picked Elmo. She became part of my life. I came to really love her. Loved the other patients, too- I’ve always felt at home with the defective. If I had it all to do over again, I would have spent my life working with them.”

At home . The only real home she’d known had been shared with two retarded people. A textbook insight, but she wasn’t getting it.

I said, “And you changed her name.”

“Yes. A new name symbolizes a new life. Both Jana and I had been given S names; I thought Joan should have one too. To fit in.”

She got up, sat by her sister’s side, and touched the sunken cheeks.

“She goes on forever,” she said. “She’s been a constant in my life. A real comfort.”

“Unlike your other partner.”

That cold look again. “Yes, unlike her.” Then a smile. “Well, Alex, I’m pooped. We’ve covered a lot of ground.”

“There are a few other things, if you don’t mind?”

Pause. For the first time since I’d known her, she looked drawn. “No, of course not. What else would you like to know?”

There was plenty, but I was looking at her smile: stuck to her without being part of her- like a clown’s makeup. Too wide, too bright. A prodrome- early warning of something. I ordered my thoughts, said, “The story you told me about being orphaned- the accident in Majorca. Where did that come from?”

“A fantasy,” she said. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

“Wishing for what?”

“Romance.”

“But the way you tell it, the true story of your parents is pretty romantic. Why embellish?”

She lost color. “I… I don’t know what to tell you, Alex. When you asked me about the house, that story came out- just poured out of me. Does it matter after all these years?”

“You really have no idea where it came from?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s identical to the way Leland Belding’s parents died.”

She turned ghostly. “No, that couldn’t…” Then, again, the glazed smile. “How strange. Yes, I can see why that would intrigue you.”

She thought, tugged her ear. “Maybe Jung was right. The collective unconscious- genetic material transmitting images as well as physical traits. Memories. Perhaps when you asked me, my unconscious kicked in. I was remembering him. Eulogizing him.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but something else comes to mind.”

“What’s that?”

“It was something Paul told you under hypnosis, then suggested you forget. Something that surfaced anyway.”

“No. I… there were no suggestions for amnesia.”

“Would you remember if there were?”

She stood, clenched her hands, held them stiff at her sides.

“No, Alex. He wouldn’t have done that.” Pause. “And what if he did? It would only have been to protect me.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “Pardon the armchair analysis. Occupational hazard.”

She looked down at me. I took her hand and she relaxed.

“After all,” I said, “he did tell you about the drowning- which was pretty emotionally loaded stuff.”

“The drowning,” she said. “Yes. He did tell me that. I remember it clearly.”

“And you told me. And Helen.” Twisting and turning the truth like wood in a lathe.

“Yes, of course I did. You were the people I felt close to. I wanted both of you to know.”

She pulled away, sat down on the opposite end of the bed. Bewildered.

I said, “It must have been a terrible experience, being forced under water, someone trying to kill you. Especially at that age. The primal age.”

She turned her back to me. I listened to the arrhythmic hiss and squeak of Shirlee’s breathing.

“Alex?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think lies are… a combination of elements?” Her voice was empty, dead, like that of a torture victim. “Fiction combined with repressed truth? That when we lie, what we’re really doing is taking truth and changing its temporal context- bringing it forward from the past to the present?”

I said, “It’s an interesting theory.” Then, “If you feel up to it, I’d like to hear about how you and Sherry finally met.”

“A couple of days after Uncle Billy visited me, Paul came by and told me she was ready.”

“Back to his house.”

“Yes. He put me up in my room and told me to meditate, be sure to get a good night’s sleep. The next morning he brought me down to the living room. Everything was set up with big soft pillows and dim lighting. He told me to wait, and left. A moment later he reappeared. With her.

“When I saw her a jolt of electricity shot up my spine. I couldn’t move. She must have been going through the same thing, because both of us just stared at each other for a long time. She looked exactly like me except she’d dyed her hair platinum-blond and was wearing sexy clothes. We started to smile- at precisely the same moment. Then we started giggling, then laughing out loud, threw out our arms and ran toward each other- it was like running into a mirror. A few minutes later and we were talking away as if we’d been best friends all our lives.

“She was funny and sweet- nothing at all like Paul had described. Not selfish or spoiled the way Uncle Billy had implied. It was obvious she wasn’t highly educated, which surprised me because I knew she’d grown up rich. But she was bright. And well-bred- her posture, the way she crossed her legs. She told me she was studying to be an actress, had already starred in one film. I asked her the title but she just laughed and changed the subject. She wanted to know all about grad school, all about psych, said she was so proud that I was going to get a Ph.D. We really hit it off, discovering that we liked the same foods, used the same toothpaste and mouthwash and deodorant. Noticing little mannerisms we had in common.”

“Like this?” I tugged on my earlobe.

“No.” She laughed. “I’m afraid that’s all me.”

“Did she talk about her home life?”

“Not much that first time- we really didn’t want to talk about anything but us . And she hadn’t been told about Joan yet- Paul said she wasn’t ready for that. So we concentrated on just the two of us. We stayed in that room all day. The first time I had a hint of anything negative was when we got on the topic of men. She told me she’d done lots of men, so many she’d lost count. She was sounding me out- wanted to see if I approved or disapproved. I wasn’t judgmental, but told her I was a one-man woman. She refused to believe that at first, then said she hoped he was one hell of a man. That’s when I told her all about you. For a moment a scary look came into her eyes- predatory. Hungry. As if she hated me for loving. But then it disappeared so quickly that I thought I’d imagined it. If I’d known better, I would have protected you, believe me, Alex. Protected us.”