Page 10 of One Little Memory
“Cherry Valley is deceiving that way. It’s a small town, but it’s the largest one around so everyone in the surrounding towns comes here for a lot of things, including their healthcare.”
“Is there much crime here?” Cahill asked as he opened the top right drawer of his desk and took out an apple.
“Not violent crimes. Mostly DUIs and property damage. Some domestic disputes. We had an arsonist not too long ago, and then there was the former doctor.”
Cahill made a face. “Don’t remind me. I’ve seen a few elderly patients who seemed sure I was going to kill them.”
Phoenix had to chuckle. Not that the situation was funny, but he could just picture exactly who would behave that way.
Cahill’s eyes narrowed. “You know who I’m talking about?”
“Yup. Life in a small town. Hard not to.”
The doctor sighed and bit into his apple.
“So, what can you tell me about Jo? Is she going to get her memory back soon? She seemed to remember me from the accident.” He had no idea why it was so important to him that she get better, but it just…was.
“She remembered you. That’s great news,” Cahill said after swallowing.
“When do you think she’ll get the rest of her memories back?”
“It’s hard to say. The brain is a funny thing. It doesn’t always do what you want it to do or what you think it should do. I’ll let you in on a secret, which all doctors learn within months of starting to work full-time in a hospital. Medicine is more of an art than a science. We could have two people come in with the exact same problem, same symptoms, they could be the same age and weight and gender, but they can react to the exact same treatment in totally different ways. There’s no way to predict one-hundred percent of the time how a patient will respond.” He took another bite of his apple.
Phoenix leaned back in his chair. “So, what does that mean?” What was Cahill trying to tell him?
“It means that Jo has retrograde amnesia, meaning she can’t remember certain facts or events from her past, but she still has the skills to do things.”
Phoenix pinched his brow in confusion. “I’m not following you.”
“For example, a person might not be able to remember if they own a car or not, but they still know how to drive.”
“Okay,” Phoenix said. “I feel there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Cahill smiled. “There is. Normally a person with retrograde amnesia wouldn’t forget their name. They might forget certain events or if they own a dog, but they usually know who they are. The fact that Jo doesn’t remember who she is means her amnesia is more complicated. She bruised her brain in the crash. It’s going to take a while to heal. Do I think she’ll eventually get her memories back? Yes. But as to when, I have no idea. Essentially, she’s Jason Bourne. She is going to have to rediscover herself and let the memories come on their own.”
Shit.That wasn’t helpful. Phoenix’s phone went off. After he glanced at the screen, he apologized to Cahill. “Sorry, but I have to take this. Thanks for your time, Doc,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be in touch.”
Phoenix answered his phone, “Halston.” He made his way down the hall and out of the hospital.
“Phoenix, we’ve got a dead body at Gus Marchand’s place,” said Stacy the dispatcher on duty.
“Who is it?” he asked as he started his SUV.
“Gus.”
Phoenix let out a sigh as the weight on his chest lessened.
“Yeah, I agree,” Stacy said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But I knew what you were thinking. The same thing we’re all thinking. Thank God, it’s not Arthur. Gotta go. People are waiting on you. Get your butt over there ASAP. Chief’s orders.” With that, she hung up.
Phoenix sworeas he pulled his police SUV to the side of the road behind all the other emergency vehicles. There were way too many people here. The crime scene, if it were a crime, which he was assuming it was since the whole fucking world was here, would definitely be contaminated. He ground his teeth. That was the hard thing about being a cop in a small town. Everyone wanted in on the action because there was so little of it.
Stacy was not wrong. Gus Marchand was a mean man. There was no other word for him. He was a bastard, and everyone in town knew it. His brother, Arthur, on the other hand, was one of the nicest people he’d ever met. Arthur ran the hardware store. Kind and gentle, he was a town favorite. Everyone wondered how two brothers could be so different. Everyone except Phoenix. He and his brother, Falcon, were very different. He loved his little brother, but they were total opposites. It was like a punch to the gut when he thought of his brother. All the air hissed out of his lungs. They were oil and water, but he loved Falcon, and the thought that he could be sick was enough to bring him to his knees. It was just the two of them. Without Falcon, he’d be all alone. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind.
Phoenix glanced up the muddy driveway. A small knot of men stood off to the left side next to the tree line. Gus Marchand had lived in a small wooden shack in the trees. The roof over the front porch was sagging, and the white paint on the railings waspeeling. There was an old rocking chair on the porch that Gus had spent most of his time in. He sat out here on his own, day after day, and kept to himself. When he did venture into town, he was abrasive and mean to anyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path. Phoenix couldn’t imagine living such a bleak existence, but everyone was different, and Gus must’ve had his reasons if he wanted to live this way.
