Chapter 17

Bern, August, Tuesday—Present Time

Sunlight streamed through the windows. I lay on the cool white sheets, trying to remember the last time I’d slept in this late. I had dreamt of David last night. It was a delicious dream, the kind that filled my stomach with warmth and put a big smile on my face. Finally, my own dream and not someone else’s. I stretched luxuriously, allowing myself time to get up slowly and not rush.

Then a nagging sadness filled my chest and my enjoyment of the morning was over.

My sister’s picture. My money. Probation.

My medical school career was as good as over. I had no idea what that remediation plan was going to list for me to do, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like doing it. I also had a nagging suspicion that I wasn’t going to want to do it. A small part of me was beginning to consider the possibility of not returning to the residency. Ever.

The phone buzzed. I looked at the caller ID. Grandma. Ugh, she always knew when I was feeling vulnerable.

“Baba, I’ve been meaning to call you. I’m sorry, it’s just that the time difference is very confusing,” I said.

“Always excuses for your Babushka.”

“I’m sorry. Is everything okay?”

“Are you healthy?” she asked.

“I’m in perfect health. I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

I hesitated. Safer to tell her I was still in Scotland. Less questions, for sure. On the other hand, more lies.

“I took a little trip to Switzerland, just for two days. But I’m flying back to New York on Thursday night, so I’ll be back home on Friday. I’ll see you Friday,” I emphasized.

“Switzerland? What are you doing in Switzerland?”

She wasn’t fooled, damn it. “I heard it was pretty here, and a friend of mine suggested I see it. I’m in Bern. It’s an old and pretty town.”

“Wait a minute. I’ve heard of Bern. I think my father, your great-grandfather, once lived there. He always said he had many good memories of the city.”

“Really? That’s interesting. When did he live here?” I asked. Coincidences seemed to follow me everywhere these days. Maybe this was what happened when you began to pay attention to them.

“I think as a young boy. I’ll look for his journal. He left it for me when he died. I’ve never read it, as his writing is very difficult to read. Maybe when you come back we can read it together?”

“Sure, that’d be great. Especially now that I’ve seen the city. Oh, since you’re looking through things, Baba…” I paused. “I lost the one photograph I had of Ella and me. Can you please find another one for me to keep?”

“Of course.” She sighed. “You know I have many. You might wish to have a picture of your mother, as well. I’ll look through my albums this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved. “I love you and miss you. See you in a few days.”

“Call me when you’re at the airport. And call me if your airplane is delayed,” she instructed.

When I went down to the dining room, Franz was busy yelling at the housekeeping staff. I quickly ate a cheese pastry resembling a Danish and drank a delicious black coffee. I still had no money, so I wrapped two pieces of toast in a napkin and placed them in my backpack for later. I hoped that at least one of my credit cards would arrive today, and I would be able to buy food and pay for my own room again.

Feeling the sunshine as I opened the door and smelling the fresh flowers outside gave me some renewed energy. My web searches this morning for Mark, the medical student of Theodor Kocher, turned up nothing. I had no particular plan for where to go, but I decided to let Fate and my ring guide me. I followed the crowds to the open-air markets of the Old Town, enjoying the sights and smells of the fresh flowers and fruit, and wishing I had some money to browse through the colorful accessories for sale.

Some time later, I turned to the main street, Kramgasse, which displayed the medieval town clock on top of a large tower. I arrived at the clock just as a large crowd gathered to watch the figurines in the clock move as it struck the hour. A balloon seller attracted my attention, and I had a sudden desire to buy one of the brightly colored globes with long strings. It was such a childish wish that I actually giggled quietly to myself before spending the last of my coins on a smooth pink balloon. I was inhaling the smell of the latex with pleasure when a familiar voice sounded from behind me.

“A balloon?”

“Haven’t you ever bought a balloon?” I spun around.

David was here! My heart danced with joy; every cell of my body lit up in excitement at his being near me.

“Oh, tons of times.”

“Sure you have!”

“You make a lot of assumptions, but you don’t know anything about me.” His mouth curved in a half-smile. “So why do you happen to be everywhere I go?” he asked, sitting down next to me on the empty bench spot.

“I believe you are the one stalking me, let me remind you.” I laughed. “What are you doing walking around the tourist areas, anyway? Don’t you have a family thing? Are they sick of you already?”

“Yeah, they kicked me out. Told me to go find a tourist to bother. You got any other plans besides buying balloons?”

He wants to spend time with me, my heart sang. I ordered myself to calm down and be rational. David could, of course, be useful in this town. He did seem to know his whereabouts. “Do you know Bern well? Can you show me around?”

“It’s a small city. I should be able to give you a bit of a tour. I have a few free hours. Where do you wanna go?”

“What do you recommend?” The truth was—I was willing to go anywhere with David. The warmth radiating from him made it difficult to think. I just wanted to get moving.

“Still haven’t looked at that travel book, have you? It’s all right, I’m not offended.” He touched his right hand to his heart in a mock gesture. “Well, it’s a nice sunny day. How about we start with a walk through the Old Town right here, then to the University Botanical Garden, and then grab a bite to eat? If we’re still talking to each other after all that, maybe we’ll walk somewhere else.”

He took off his sunglasses and leaned closer to me while talking, so that I could hear him over the hum of the crowd. I smelled the light scent of shampoo, coffee, and laundry soap on his T-shirt. I struggled not to inhale too deeply.

“Sounds great.” I moved back, overwhelmed by how strongly I reacted to him.

“All right.” He stood up and pointed at my balloon. “Let it go and make a wish.”

I let go of the balloon. David was already moving out of the square, and I gladly followed, trying to keep up with his fast pace. Why was I so drawn to him? He stretched his arm back, and his hand found mine and gently clasped it. The touch sent waves of heat through my arm and into my stomach. I fought the sudden sense of déjà vu and focused my attention on the sights.

“You know, all the buildings look similar to me,” I observed. “All the gray stone and the covered sidewalks.”

David was oblivious to my turmoil, or maybe he was just pretending not to notice. “They are all the same in style. They had a great fire here in medieval times, in 1405, I believe. The entire city burned down. It was rebuilt entirely out of stone, so that it would survive in case of another fire.”

“Very practical.”

“Yes, focus on survival, not beauty. But the city has its charm, too. Let me show you this great view of the old bridge. We just need to walk a few blocks over this way, to the Aare River.”

A few minutes later, we took in a breathtaking view of a calm emerald river with an old stone bridge separating two sides of the city: the old and the new. The old city’s houses lined the riverbank tightly, their orange rooftops resembling hats, their roof windows looking at the houses on the other side, watching over their inhabitants.

“I love the colors here,” I said, inhaling the fresh air brought by the wind from the river.

“This bridge we are standing on is called Nydeggbrücke, and the one we are looking at is Untertorbrücke. Untertorbrücke is the oldest bridge in Bern. It was built in the 1400s.”

“What does Un-ter-tor-brücke mean?”

“Lower bridge.”

“Practical again.”

“Should we get going to the Botanical Garden?” David asked.

“Sure.”

“The Garden is part of the University of Bern. We’ll walk back through the Old Town and then down by the river.”

We arrived at the Botanical Garden as the afternoon clouds rolled in across the sky. David confidently led me through. “My mother always says it’s her favorite place in the city.”

“Where is your mother, by the way? How come she is skipping the family reunion?”

“She had a knee replacement and thought it would be best if she rested a while instead of running around on cobblestones here.”

We were approaching a small archway at the end of the Japanese garden when I smelled a familiar scent. I looked more closely at the lush purple blooms on the archway.

Wisteria.

I swayed. The smell filled my nostrils and became intoxicating. I pinched my nose.

“You don’t like the smell of wisteria?” David asked. “I love it. It reminds me of sour candy. My mouth is watering for some right now.” He touched the blooms over our heads, making a few brightly colored petals fall gently on his hair.

“Candy?” I blew air in strangled breaths. The horrid blooms smelled like the sweat and tears and dirt that were on my sister’s face when she lay dying and I hugged her small body to me, begging her to stop pretending.

And then, as David touched another bloom, unaware of the impact the scent was having on me, the view of wisteria shifted, and I was no longer in the same garden. But I wasn’t in the garden with my sister either. I was back in the garden from the dream I had in Edinburgh. My mind traced the path to the right of the wisteria archway, and I knew it led past the bushes and the oak tree, around the fountain, and to the bench surrounded by more wisteria and rose bushes. I knew that path like the back of my hand. I knew I was waiting for someone with some urgency.

My head was spinning and I felt disoriented, unsure of my surroundings, as if I had just walked off a fast-spinning ride. I grabbed onto David’s arm to steady me.

“I’ve been here before. I can see this garden, but not from right now. I smell flowers that are not even here.” I felt tears on my cheeks. “I know I’m not making any sense, and please don’t think I’m insane. I’ll explain in a minute… I need…a minute.”

I sat down on a chair nearby, put my head in my hands, closed my eyes, and allowed the memories to wash over me. The smell of wisteria was replaced with fresh rain, and then I smelled something else. Perfume—a very gentle scent of roses. I found myself oddly calm, despite the experience. My heart beat steadily, and my senses were sharp. I expected to feel cold, as in the presence of a ghost, but I continued to feel the warm sunshine.

Images flashed through my mind, too fast to understand, swirling. Then sounds: birds, a man’s voice, children’s voices, crying, a woman’s voice. I took a few deep breaths and willed my mind to still the images. I watched a man, with little round glasses, riding his bike on the path toward me. I knew I was happy to see him. My mind told me I loved him, and I wanted to tell him something very important. I knew it was something very urgent, because my face was wet with tears and my chest was hurting in grief. I was sad, desperately sad, but relieved to see him, because I was sure he was there to help me.

And then the images broke and I was back with David. I lifted my head and noticed we were sitting at a small café. I could still smell the wisteria and the roses, but the power of the memory began to fade. The nausea and dizziness were also gone.

David was stretched out in the chair across the table from me, a coffee cup in his hand. When did he get coffee? He didn’t look concerned or frightened, but he wasn’t looking at me either. I knew I’d have to tell him, but how?

“I’m okay now. Thanks for sticking around,” I said slowly.

“No problem! I’m enjoying my coffee.” He turned his coffee cup in his hand and gave me a sideways look. “You wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“I just need a minute.”

“Sure.” He pushed a cup of coffee toward me. “I added cream and sugar.”

I took a sip and gave him a grateful look. “Thanks. David, it’s not an easy thing to explain.”

“I figured as much.”

“This is gonna sound really crazy.”

“I can do crazy.”

I laughed nervously. “Just give me a minute to explain! Okay. So, I found this antique ring in Edinburgh.” I pointed to my ring and continued, “And ever since then, I keep having dreams or, like, memories of a woman who…I believe, owned this ring.”

David nodded and set his coffee cup down on the table. “How do you know this woman owned the ring?”

“How do I know the woman…? Is that the only question you have about this?”

“Well, that’s a reasonable question, isn’t it?”

“You don’t want to know if I’m making this up?” I raised my brows.

“Well, I just watched you turn pale, as if you’d seen a ghost, and act as if you’d lost your wits.” He waved a hand at me. “No, I didn’t mean as if you had actually lost your wits—it was more like you were in shock. Or more like if you weren’t even here.”

“I wasn’t. That’s the whole point. I wasn’t really here. Or at least not here with you.”

“I know.” He looked at me curiously. “The question is, will you tell me now what’s going on? Or am I not trustworthy enough?”

“Well…” I was stumped at how to explain exactly what was happening to me, without sounding even crazier. “I wasn’t exactly… It just seemed like… Oh, hell! I know this looks bad. But I swear, I’m not psychotic!”

“Look, is there any possible chance that you may be taking something? Like just a little bit of something for stress?”

“Are you asking if I’m doing drugs? Oh, great! I must look even more out of control than I thought.” I stood up and paced in frustration.

“Hey! Hey!” He lifted out of his seat and touched my arm lightly. “It’s all right. I don’t think you’re crazy. I do believe you.”

“Fine. I’ll be better in a second, and then I can explain more,” I said, sitting back down and wiping away my tears with the napkin he handed me.

“How about we get out of here?” He looked at the children running between the tables. “I know a nice quiet place where we can talk.”

He didn’t wait for my answer, but got up and gently took hold of my arm, pulling me to come along. It felt very comforting to lean on him, even though I didn’t need it. I could walk just fine, but I didn’t want him to know. I let him lead me gently down the path and away from the wisteria and the garden, as the power of the memories faded fully away.