CHERRY REPORTED BACK TO HILTON HOSPITAL FRIDAY morning, October tenth. She had been gone for four crowded days. Dr. Hope, whom she was eager to see at once, was not here yet, the head nurse said. The door to Richard’s room stood open. That was a cheerful sign.
“Good morning, Richard!”Cherry rapped on the doorframe. “May I come in to say hello?”
“Miss Cherry! I missed you.”The cast had been removed from his leg. “Dr. Watson cut off the cast—bivalved it, he said—yesterday.”Richard’s wide, friendly smile was a cheerful sign, too. He swung himself off the bed, using his crutches, and pulled up a chair for her. “Dr. Hope told me you were in Crewe visiting my family.”
“Yes, and I brought you this.”
Richard recognized the blue sweater. “I’m glad. It’s an old friend. Mother knitted it for me.”Richard stroked the sweater. “How is my mother?”he asked rather anxiously.
“She’s fairly well, and very happy to hear news of you, and she sends you her love.”
Cherry was astonished at the good change in him. Earlier he had insisted his mother was dead. Now he was lucid, calm, and cheerful. But though she waited for him to say, “How is Merrill?”he did not. He eyed Cherry with an expression she could not fathom.
She thought, “I’d better be careful what I say to Richard. Who knows what’s in his mind about my visit to Crewe?”She excused herself before Richard could question her, and went to Dr. Hope to discuss the situation.
He was just taking off his hat and coat. In the morning sunshine, with his bright fair hair and athlete’s stance, Harry Hope looked vital enough to cure any patient.
“Well! Miss Cherry!”He pumped her hand. “Sit down and tell me all about it. Or, first I’ll tell you some good news.”
Their patient, he said, had made an unexpected spurt of progress in the last few days. Perhaps the knowledge that his nurse was paving his way with the family aided him. While Cherry was away, Richard recalled that his mother was alive, and that he felt responsible or guilty about her health in some way he didn’t understand. He remembered for the first time that he had an older brother, Merrill, with whom he, a chemist, was a partner in the family business. Richard, Dr. Hope said, felt vaguely that he had wronged Merrill, and that he was in some trouble involving Merrill. Richard also surprised Dr. Hope by remembering that the business was failing. He insisted that it was his fault, insisted he had somehow ruined the family business or its credit.
That was as far as Richard could remember, as far as he was able at present to face his predicament. Dr. Hope commented that it took courage and effort on Richard’s part to come this close to the unbearable realities.
“I could hardly wait for you to come back with information,”Dr. Hope admitted to Cherry. “Can you tell whether Richard’s new recall is fact or fantasy?”
“Dr. Hope, no matter what Richard believes, he did not ruin the business. He did not injure Merrill, nor his mother.”
And Cherry told the psychiatrist all that she had learned in Crewe and in New York.
“I see,”he said, “I see. Richard’s feelings of guilt and self-blame are no more than symptoms of his illness, then. Poor fellow. Well, let’s decide how we’ll use what you’ve learned.”
Dr. Hope said they had two aims now—to relieve Richard’s unnecessary feelings of self-blame, and to aid his recall.
“We mustn’t tell Richard anything right out—only stimulate his recall. Our job is to help him recall by himself.”He briefed her carefully. “One thing I don’t understand, Miss Cherry. Why did Richard alone take out a personal loan for the business?”
“I couldn’t find out, Dr. Hope. I suspect that’s the heart of Richard’s troubles.”
That same Friday afternoon, with Dr. Hope present and watchful, Cherry described to Richard her visit with his mother and brother.
“Aren’t they a nice family?”Richard responded. “I wish you could have met my late father. He was a fine man. He left my brother and me the business he founded, of course as equal partners.”
Of course, Richard said, and said it calmly. So Richard was unaware that Merrill had always resented his having an equal partnership.
“You don’t have much to say about Merrill,”Dr. Hope prompted him.
Richard spoke loyally of his brother, but guiltily, too.
Cherry, guided and aided by Dr. Hope, slowly and with great care, reintroduced to Richard some of the facts she had learned in Crewe. She gave him hints. She reminded him of what he had recalled by himself, and urged him to recall a step further, then another step.
“You were on the beach near the big, jagged rocks, you and another boy. Could it have been you and Merrill?”
“Yes. Merrill and I went swimming. Racing. I mean, we swam far out—I never should have dared him—”
Frowning, fumbling for the half-drowned memory, Richard brought back the whole painful episode.
“It all started, in a way, because Merrill had a habit of teasing—well, taunting me. About how I couldn’t measure up to him in some ways because I was younger and smaller and four years behind him in lots of ways. I never minded much because I was good-natured, I guess, and mostly because I sensed that Merrill needed to ‘triumph’ over me.”
“That wasn’t very kind of Merrill,”Dr. Hope said.
“Well, that’s how he was and I admired him so much that it didn’t matter. Until one summer when he was fourteen and I was ten. It was a rather cool day—”
On that day the brothers had bicycled to the beach. There, in front of friends, Merrill made some sharp remarks to Richard and the little boy felt humiliated. In a burst of spirit—not malice—he had dared Merrill to swim far out with him, beyond the swimmers’ area, to where they could race. Merrill accepted the dare to race.
What neither boy took into consideration, Richard said, was that Merrill had limited strength, which was not important so long as Merrill did not overstrain himself.
The swim took them far out. Merrill wanted so badly to win that he overexerted himself. Exhausted, he had trouble fighting the strong current. Richard saw this and attempted to help him. But Merrill in his pride—friends on the shore were watching—fought off Richard’s aid. He told Richard, “Keep away!”and Richard, despite his concern and better judgment, did as his older brother insisted. People on shore started to swim out to help, but Merrill waved them back, too.
When the boys reached shore, Merrill argued with Richard as to who had won the race—a pointless, inconclusive argument. But during that time Merrill was exposed to a cold wind, and grew chilled. The hardier, younger Richard withstood the wind.
Then the boys bicycled home in their wet bathing suits, under jeans and sweatshirts. This further exertion and exposure also harmed Merrill.
When they reached home, Merrill was on the verge of collapse. Their mother went to the telephone to call the doctor at once. In the moments she was away, Merrill blamed Richard for “making me get sick.”Richard was so distressed and abashed at seeing his adored older brother near collapse that the blame sank in, unreasonable as it was.
And later when Merrill was in the hospital, and still later during Merrill’s long, grim convalescence at home, he blamed Richard again. The serious impairment to Merrill’s heart was now evident. Merrill was fourteen; Richard was only ten; he could not outargue Merrill’s claims that “you dared me”—“you knew I wasn’t very strong”—“why didn’t you help me in the water, no matter what I said? Couldn’t you see I was exhausted?”Richard felt so badly at seeing Merrill ill, so guilty at having dared him and at not having helped him, that he humbly accepted the blame. Telling about it even now, Richard still had the old, guilty feeling. And still later on when Merrill was a semi-invalid, and Richard strong and active, the steady, silent looks of reproach from Merrill weighed on Richard.
Worse, Merrill made his charges secretly, never telling the parents and swearing little Richard to secrecy. He hinted morbidly that the parents would never forgive Richard if they knew “what you’d done to me.”
“And you never told your mother or father about this?”Cherry said. “Why didn’t you talk it over with your parents, Richard?”
“Because”—he was almost in tears—”Merrill warned me it might kill Mother if I told. It would upset her so badly. She was always in shaky health, a latent heart condition.”
So Merrill had used the mother’s health as an additional weapon over Richard. In careful phrases Dr. Hope gave Richard a hint of this.
“No, no, you mustn’t blame Merrill,”Richard said quickly. “Because in a way it was my fault that Merrill nearly drowned, and was half an invalid afterward. I’ve always felt I ruined Merrill’s life. I owe it to him to help him in every way. He’s never had much of a life. Nor many friends, except recently. There’s a nice girl named Susan Stiles—”
So Richard had pleaded Merrill’s cause with Susan as one more means of “making up” to him an injury Richard had never inflicted.
“See here, Richard,”said Dr. Hope. “In exactly what way did you cause Merrill’s ill health?”
“Well, I—It’s hard to say exactly. Exposure—overexertion—my dare—Merrill said I did.”
“No, Richard, that is not true.”
Dr. Hope, and Cherry too, reasoned with him and endeavored to show him that the mishap was Merrill’s own fault. They pointed out to him that he had carried around with him for years the mistaken ideas Merrill had implanted in him, under stress, at ten. Re-examine your ideas now, they urged. Stop thinking as if you were still ten years old. Gradually, with much work by all three of them, it dawned on Richard that he was blameless. After so many years of feeling guilty, he could scarcely believe it.
“It is true,”he said wonderingly. “It’s as if a load has been lifted off me.”
“And can you still believe your parents would have blamed you? Weren’t they fair-minded and loving with you?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, yes!”
Dr. Hope and Cherry gave him encouragement and moral support (“supportive therapy,”Dr. Hope called it). They pretty much convinced him. Richard was greatly relieved, and much happier.
“To think I’ve been behaving as if I were still a scared child!”he exclaimed, laughing a little.
Best of all, Richard said his feeling of “strangeness” was gone. He remembered smoothly now, as if there’d never been anything wrong. He remained a little hazy about events of just last year, but “it’ll clear up.”He was confident he would recapture the rest of his lost memory soon.
“I think you will,”said Dr. Hope, smiling.
The three of them were elated and hopeful. Richard was nearly well! Just a little further to go—
On Saturday and Sunday, which was Columbus Day, Cherry rested at home. Her mind was nearly at ease about Richard. Their patient, at the psychiatrist’s recommendation, was relaxing this weekend, too. They were going to try for another big effort on Monday.
Monday afternoon Dr. Hope, Richard, and Cherry started on what they told one another would be the final step of the recall. Dr. Hope asked whether Richard could recall anything about having difficulties with Merrill in the business. He did not risk mentioning the loan that hung over Richard’s head.
“Trouble with Merrill at the plant?”Richard concentrated, staring at his hands, trying to remember. “That’s right. We quarreled. We—It’s a terrible thing to say, but I remember I half believed Merrill was helping himself to company funds.”
Now they were getting somewhere!
“Here again we mustn’t be too harsh toward Merrill,”said Richard hastily. “For the first time in his life he’d fallen in love. With an awfully nice girl, Susan Stiles. You know he’s—well, awkward in getting along with people. He just doesn’t know how to be a suitor. For that reason he’d offered Susan some presents, and I suppose he needed a few extra dollars.”
A few extra dollars! To Cherry it was evident that Richard never guessed the full extent of what Merrill was spending in order to appear more attractive to his girl. So Richard was still excusing Merrill, still taking all the blame on himself, still had the old feeling of guilt toward Merrill. Last Friday’s talk had not entirely eradicated it.
“I did what I could, in spite of doubts,”Richard said apologetically, “to encourage my brother in his new role of suitor. I tried to help Susan see what a good person he is. But after a time—”Richard got up, took his crutches, and restlessly moved around the room. “I began to wonder. It was the ring that set off my doubts, I think. Merrill was dressing one evening and I happened to come into his room—”
The diamond engagement ring! It sparkled on Merrill’s dresser, and Richard admitted its size, beauty, and value stunned him. He had looked at the name on the jeweler’s box—one of the most expensive shops in New York. Merrill must have spent a fortune for it! Where had he gotten the money? From the business, was the only answer Richard could arrive at. Especially since the business was mysteriously failing.
Next day, Richard recalled, he asked Merrill to let him see the books. Merrill refused and quarreled with him. “Can’t you trust your own brother?”Merrill had demanded. “Don’t you trust my business judgment?”Yet Merrill told Richard repeatedly that the business was failing.
Richard grew more worried. He managed to see the books, which showed he had invested the loan in the business, and “I wondered why a loan taken out for the business had helped for only a short time.”
Cherry started. This was Richard’s first mention of the loan.
Richard sat down on the bed and let his crutches fall to the floor, with a crash.
“Go on,”Dr. Hope said mildly.
“I can’t.”
Richard swallowed hard and his voice came out thin. “To my astonishment I learned from the books that Merrill had been paying himself extra bonuses—large ones. He’d never told Mother or me about his extra bonuses. And all during last year he charged Susan’s gifts to the business.”Richard suddenly stopped speaking.
Dr. Hope prompted him. “And you challenged Merrill with these facts?”
Richard pressed both hands to his head. “Headache. All of a sudden. A blinding headache.”He was pale and sweating.
Dr. Hope sighed and watched their patient. One minute ticked past, two minutes, three minutes. No one spoke or moved. Then Dr. Hope gestured to Cherry to try once more.
She leaned forward, speaking gently to Richard. “When I was in New York I learned some facts from Mr. Steele—at the Crewe bank. Do you remember him?”Richard’s eyes were like stones. “Doesn’t the name Steele recall anything to you?”
“No.”Richard sat there blank, silent. He looked ill. “I can remember and see certain places and people. But there’s a wall of mist rising up between them and me.”
He had reached an impasse, just when they were making great and final progress.
Dr. Hope got up with a look of defeat. He said gently, “All right, fellow,”with a pat on Richard’s shoulder, and walked out. Cherry said a few words to Richard and followed.
She found the psychiatrist in the office, slumped in a chair. He made no effort to hide his discouragement.
“I’m nonplused,”he said to Cherry. “I’m just not able to penetrate deeply enough into the patient’s feelings. Have we overlooked some important aspect of the case? What have I done wrong?”
“Perhaps you didn’t do anything wrong, Doctor,”said Cherry. “Perhaps you’ve gone as far in one direction as anybody can go. Now the wall of mist presents fresh problems.”
He looked at her gratefully. “That’s right, we have to find another path, in order to break through. My techniques are inadequate at this point. I must find a new way. But what?”
Next day, after Richard had a long sleep, and ward recreation, Dr. Hope and Cherry tried again. “Doesn’t the name Steele bring back something that happened? Something important?”Simply telling Richard the facts would not put them back into his memory; that is, would not solve his reasons for flight from memory. “Imagine the plant, imagine you’re in Merrill’s office—what are you talking about?”
But Richard could not remember. Even with the aid of a new drug, next day, it was impossible to break through. He grew difficult and depressed.
“We’ll have to abandon the interviews and questioning,”Dr. Hope told Cherry. “If we don’t, we may push Richard back to where he was four or five weeks ago.”
By Thursday Dr. Hope had devised a plan. He instructed Cherry to draw up, with the patient’s help, his life chart. This was to list chronologically all the main events of Richard’s life, with dates. The gaps where Richard’s recall failed would show the trouble spots in his life. The big, stubborn gap was recent: the loan.
“What I hope will happen,”said the psychiatrist, “is that in making this chart, Richard will recall everything at once, in one sweep. It could come suddenly.”
Cherry and Richard started right to work. Richard was rather listless and hopeless, and Cherry had to keep after him. Together they wrote out a sort of diary, in snatches, and patched these into a chronological pattern. An account of most of Richard’s life history emerged after two or three days’ work. The gaps troubled Richard. Cherry could have filled in several of them with what she had learned in Crewe—except for two key events: why Richard alone took out the loan, and what had happened during the final quarrel between Richard and Merrill. She was as puzzled as Richard himself.
Dr. Hope studied the life chart over the weekend and then discussed it privately with Cherry. From this nearly complete information he pointed out how Richard’s amnesia came about: Richard was trapped in an impossible situation and, unable to cope, blacked out mentally.
Much would depend on how Richard’s reunion with his family went, especially with Merrill. If the encounter was unfortunate, Richard might lose the ground he had gained and become ill again—probably in some other form than amnesia.
To arm Richard for this family encounter, Dr. Hope and Cherry tried various approaches to help Richard recall the gaps. He made pathetic efforts, saying, “Maybe I’m just tired.”He actually attempted to relieve Dr. Hope’s concern by pretending to be cheerful. As his memory faded out, he grew sleepless, and more depressed.
The three of them put in a bad week. Then Cherry had an idea.
On Friday afternoon, October twenty-fourth, after six weeks of treatment, Cherry took Richard for a long-promised drive into the country. She had Dr. Hope’s permission and she had borrowed her father’s car. The day was raw and windy, with leaves blowing off the trees and clouds scudding across a dull sky. The weather did not matter, Cherry’s purpose did.
“I wish I could drive,”said Richard. Though the cast was off, he still needed crutches. The leg was stiff, but physical therapy treatments were helping to correct that condition. “I love to drive. Riding alone with you is fun, nearly as good. Where are we going?”
“Just to admire the autumn foliage,”Cherry said. “And one stop.”
She drove Richard through quiet, peaceful country roads to the old church and graveyard. It was here, not far from the highway, where Richard had said he “came to consciousness” and tried to think who he was.
Cherry stopped the car. They sat quietly, listening to the wind rattle the dry leaves and watching birds wheel high around the church steeple.
“I remember this place,”said Richard.
“Can you remember what you thought, then? Take your time. Easy does it. We’re in no hurry.”
Richard gazed out across the churchyard and autumn fields. For a long time he made a lonely effort.
“No. Nothing comes back, Miss Cherry.”
“Then we’ll just drive and enjoy ourselves. Don’t be disappointed.”She hid her own disappointment.
For the next half hour Cherry drove Richard through the country roads. She offered a little, light-hearted conversation about Hilton, and the picnics and barn dances she’d enjoyed around here. She watched Richard relax in body and mind.
Then an extraordinary thing happened. They were driving up a long, steep hill, and they could feel the exhilarating power of the car as it carried them up, up. Near the crest Cherry smoothly shifted gears—and it was as if the gear wheels in Richard’s mind engaged, too. He suddenly shouted, “I’ve got it! I remember everything now! My memory is running as smoothly as this car!”They shot out onto the crest of the hill. “I’ve reached the top of my own hill!”
It was true. Everything in Richard’s mind had slipped into place. Almost all of his memory had returned. He spilled over with part of his memories to Cherry on the drive back to Hilton—they could not get back fast enough!—and he told the rest of it to Dr. Hope and Cherry at the hospital.
What Richard remembered, clearly and easily, was this:
Richard had learned from Merrill that the business was failing. This troubled Richard on its own account, and because their mother needed an expensive operation. As Richard understood or rather misunderstood it, the operation should not be deferred too long. Merrill told Richard it was necessary, if they were to save the business and their mother, to secure a large bank loan in a great hurry. He instructed Richard to sign a three-month promissory note, and Merrill promised to sign the note also.
Richard obtained the loan from the Crewe bank, but Merrill never signed it. Merrill was out of town that day on business and phoned in: “Don’t delay, put the loan through. We must have the money today to meet bills and the payroll.”Richard, trusting him, became solely responsible to pay back the loan.
The Crewe bank paid the money to Richard as a personal loan. He deposited the sum in his personal account at the Crewe bank, or more exactly, the bank paid the loan directly into his personal account. Then Richard put this money into the business. The company books showed this investment.
Merrill advised Richard not to tell their mother about the loan nor anything of business matters while she was ill. Richard agreed. He left business and financial arrangements to Merrill as usual, and went on about his own production work.
Just before the promissory note fell due, Richard asked Merrill for company funds to pay it back. Merrill showed him the books: the business was still failing.
Richard knew, to some extent, that Merrill had been spending much money on courting Susan Stiles. Now he wondered whether Merrill got the money by dipping into company funds. Richard had never had access to the books, but now he asked questions. He and Merrill quarreled.
In their final quarrel at the plant, Richard told Merrill he now understood where Merrill got the funds for the diamond engagement ring and the luxury car, and why the business was failing, and why their mother’s operation was deferred. Merrill angrily denied everything. They had a terrible scene.
In a self-righteous rage Merrill pointed out to Richard that Richard alone was responsible for the loan note. He threatened to tell their mother that Richard had ruined the business because he was unable to repay the loan. He accused Richard of ruining not only his own personal credit but damaging the business’s credit as well. None of these things were true, but Merrill convinced him. He told Richard to get out, and stay out, rather than inflict further injury on the business and their mother.
Richard faced an impossible situation. He must pay back the loan within a very few days, but could not. If, to repay, he assigned his third of the business to the bank, exclusive ownership of their original share formula would pass out of the Albee family’s hands. The business was failing. There were no funds for his mother’s operation; a charity ward was the only alternative. To sell the entire business was to abandon all that Justin Albee had built up. His brother had ordered him out of the business, and would turn his mother against him.
In despair Richard wrote a good-bye note, scrawled in haste—then tore it up and threw it away. He scarcely knew what he was doing.
He walked out of the plant a pauper, deep in personal debt, jobless, perhaps homeless. Under such stress, Richard lost his memory. This was last April. …
Driven by anxiety, he kept on the move. With a small amount of money in his pocket, he boarded an interstate bus that took him into the region of Hilton. That was as far as his money would take him. Then he hitchhiked. He lived by doing odd jobs, sometimes on farms. As summer ended, he remained in and around Hilton picking up odd jobs where they were more plentiful. During parts of his six months of wandering, Richard’s memory had been and was still spotty. He still could not remember how he broke his leg or how he happened to be on the highway where a passing motorist had found him.
“Don’t worry if you can’t remember quite everything,”Dr. Hope said to Richard. “You are cured, but a cure almost never brings total recall. Certain small incidents will always be lost.”
Richard smiled and sighed. “I’m tired.”
Cherry smiled at him. “Of course you are. Look at all you’ve relived, in telling us your whole story.”
“I propose three cheers for Richard,”said Dr. Hope. “In fact, for all of us!”
Now it would be possible, Dr. Hope said to Cherry in private conference, to attempt a reunion between Richard and his family. It would be hard. Richard had more confidence now, but he still could be easily shaken. He would have to come to terms of some sort with Merrill—and he still must find a way out of the loan difficulty, with or without Merrill’s help.
Cherry hoped that Olivia Albee—and, if necessary, Dr. Hope—would be able to prevail upon Merrill to help Richard repay the loan. The business, if properly managed, could probably repay it: it had always been a prosperous business until Merrill started withdrawing funds for his personal use. She knew Dr. Hope to be as anxious as herself about how the family reunion would go, and its far-reaching effects upon their patient.
Late that Friday afternoon Cherry had the hospital Social Service Department wire Mrs. Albee that she and Merrill could come now. Within half an hour Mrs. Albee replied by telegram: “We are coming at once. Will arrive tomorrow.”
Cherry went back to Richard’s room and told him the news:
“My family here—tomorrow? Mother and Merrill—I’m afraid they have faded or grown distorted in my memory. I can’t imagine how it will be to see them again!”