Lewis turned his head toward the doorway at the mention of his name. A nurse motioned and stepped aside as someone else entered the room. He jumped to his feet and watched the attractive, blonde woman approach him uncertainly. The woman in the photograph with him and the children. His ... wife?
vvvv
It took Lewis a few moments to gather the courage to speak but his mind was being bombarded with questions. The young woman worked up a tentative smile and said something to him. His brain was a step behind but he realized that she'd said "Hello" to him.
"Oh, uh, hello," he stammered his reply. "Would you like to sit down?" Her name still escaped him. But Dr. Karen Willoughby's harsh words came back to him; that this woman was not his wife. A model or actor hired to pose with him and the two children in order to give others - his clients, most likely - the impression that he was a loving family man.
She shook her head and stepped closer, handing him a small envelope. "I came to bring you this." He took the envelope and looked at it then questioningly back up at her. "It may answer some questions for you about me; about us." She laughed softly and said, "There actually is no 'us', though. Please forgive me." When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist without thinking.
"Please. Must you leave just yet?" There were so many unanswered questions. But it felt uncomfortable to feel the eyes of his three fellow patients on them. He lowered his voice and told her, "I really feel that we need to talk, but not here." His eyes pleaded silently with hers and she nodded. They walked out of the day room and down the corridor to his room. Once inside, he drew the curtains around his bed and closed the sliding glass door that led to the outer corridor. They sat on the lime green viny loveseat with chrome arms and legs on the side of his bed.
"Who exactly are you?" he asked, wasting no time. Holding up the envelope she'd given him, he asked, "And what's in here?"
She was momentarily caught off guard by his straightforwardness but replied, "My name is Rhonda Demarest; I'm a model." She then shrugged and added, "Well, at least I'm trying to be."
As if anticipating his next question, she told him, "We only met that one time in the photography studio. The children in the photo are my niece and nephew. They'd been so excited to pose for their first modeling assignment." Her brief smile faded as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked down at her folded hands in her lap. "We didn't know we were doing anything wrong. It was just another photo session, as far as I was concerned."
Lewis closed his eyes, disappointed to learn that Willoughby had spoken the truth. This woman and the children were strangers to him. Paid to do a job, nothing more. He blinked his eyes open, shaking his head. "Who hired you?"
She sighed before responding. "Dr. Karen Willoughby. Some sort of therapy for a patient, she'd said. But it's all in the letter I just gave you," she told him.
"Why would she have hired you to pose with me, pretending to be my family?" he asked. "I've, uh, recently suffered a bit of memory loss," he explained.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. But, well, it's really not that uncommon. People request photos to be taken of themselves in any number of costumes or situations or locales to give themselves and others the appearance of being successful. Happy. Fulfilled," she offered. "You did seem to be happy with the results."
"You ... you're the one who visited me when they first brought me to the hospital." She nodded. "Identified yourself as my wife." She nodded again. "Why?"
Rhonda surprised him by blushing and looking down at her folded hands again. "I ... I don't know. I guess I just wanted to ... " She sighed again and closed her eyes. Side-eyeing him, she finally continued. "Like I said, we had only met that once in the studio but ... " She turned to him, her brow slightly knitted. "We seemed to hit it off. Made a connection. At least, that's what I had thought at the time. You really don't remember? You were really very sweet."
"Well, thank God for that!" he exclaimed, chuckling and slapping his hand on his knee. "I've heard some pretty awful things about myself lately."
"No, no. We talked. Found out we liked a lot of the same things. I gave you my phone number and ... and waited for you to call me but you never did."
"Sorry. I must have fallen ill shortly after that."
"It actually was shortly before Christmas that year. I'd looked forward to maybe us spending it and New Year's together," she admitted. "When I didn't hear from you, I figured that you changed your mind or found something better to do."
"No, I ... " Lewis didn't know what to say or what to think. Only that he couldn't think of anything that would have prevented him from calling this lovely woman. Lovely? Lewis! You've just met her. Control yourself. He slowly drew in a breath and released it as a swath of yellow fabric flashed in his mind's eye. A head turned. Blonde hair. A smile.
"You wore a yellow dress. A two-piece," he told her.
"Yes, I did, but - "
"You changed into a darker dress for the photo." Lewis said it with a bit of wonder on his face, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"That's good. You remember," she said, smiling.
"I'm afraid, only that," he admitted. "But how did you know that I'd been taken to the hospital?"
"The day that you collapsed on the subway platform, I was there, waiting for my train. When I saw you walking toward me, I thought ... Anyway, someone called 911 and as your wife," she chuckled, "I was able to ride along with you."
"I see. Well, thank you for being there for me at that time."
After a moment of silence, Rhonda stood up. "I'll be going now. Just wanted to come and finally explain things to you." As she drew the curtain partially back to leave, he suddenly became bashful but asked if he would see her again. "My phone number and address are in the letter," she told him, blushing again and grinning.
Lewis sat there going over everything she'd told him, happy that he finally had heard some good news in the middle of all of the bad. He had no idea how things would turn out tomorrow evening during or after the re-enactment of his and Morgan's encounter but for these few moments he could flood his mind with more soothing thoughts. And, depending on how things turned out, maybe he would just make that call to Ms. Rhonda Demarest, sometimes model and actress. Memory still not fully intact, nevertheless, he felt as though he had not had a whole lot to smile about in a very long time.
vvvv
Lt. Reece left her office and walked over to where Jo and Mike stood waiting for her at their desks, ready to leave with her, Henry, and Lucas, to oversee the re-enactment in the subway.
"We'll have another attendee," she told them as they all headed out to the elevators. "Dr. Farber's psychologist, Dr. Karen Willoughby, will be joining us. She wants to be there in case Farber has any trouble dealing with things."
"Makes sense, I guess," Jo said. "Will she have a 'script', too?"
"No. Her job is to observe Farber and halt things, if necessary," Reece replied.
The doors of the elevator opened in the lobby and they stepped out. Lucas was standing by the door trying not to appear as interested as he was in the scene just outside the building. Henry and Abe were discussing something very animatedly, worry and concern on both of their faces.
"What's going on with those two?" Mike asked.
"Abe showed up just as we got here," Lucas replied. "He's concerned for Henry's safety." He looked at his companions and added, "For all of us, actually." Of course, he'd be concerned about his father, Lucas said to himself. He could only imagine how gut-wrenching it must have been for him to wait it out when the real thing had gone down. And it was nice of him to be concerned about Henry's colleagues. Nice guy, Lucas thought.
Jo was thinking along the same lines. Henry was supposed to be Abe's father. She now believed that. And that Henry had a much longer story to tell than the small portion he and Abe had recently shared with her. Abe's concern for his father was only natural. Heck, if it were her own criminal-minded father, she knew that even she would be concerned for him. Something, anything could go wrong. History could repeat itself. This time it might not result in just Henry and Adam being injured or worse. Lieu was right. They all had to be on their toes. Eyes and ears open, weapons at the ready.
But she was glad that she now believed Henry was, indeed, the man who had raised Abe from a baby, along with his wife, Abigail. It was just an incredible thing to know, and after this was all over, she intended to corner the both of them - especially Henry - and learn the rest of the long story.
"I take it that Farber's shrink is bringing him?" Mike asked, as he shamelessly watched Abe and Henry conclude their discussion. Abe, looking still unconvinced, nodded and got into his car and drove away.
"His psychologist," Reece emphasized with a raised eyebrow to Mike, "and he will be dropped off at the subway station. I sent a car," she added. "Let's head out," she said.
They exited the building and joined Henry on the sidewalk. Jo caught his eye and gave him a quick smile of encouragement. Thirty minutes later, they found themselves once again on the dirty, abandoned subway platform. They each took their places as agreed upon during the run-through the day before and waited for Farber and Willoughby to arrive.
Henry looked over the desolate area again. At the walls filled with graffiti that ranged from the lewd to the artistically beautiful to the poetically profound. At all the trash and debris; evidence of humanity's discards. At the spot again, where he'd bled out from a fatal gunshot wound to the chest, courtesy of Adam. His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he'd had earlier with Abe in front of the precinct when he heard a familiar voice utter two words that had always unsettled him.
"Hello, Henry."
Notes:
This chapter is ultra short, I think, but it seemed like a good stopping point. The re-enactment will have its own chapter.
Also, I couldn't determine exactly what time it was that Henry and Adam met in the subway so I guesstimated between 4:00 and 6:00 PM. Lucas is shown still working in the morgue and in the Gloria Carlysle episode, Henry had mentioned that Lucas left at 8:00 PM. It was still light outside when Abe was shown waiting near the river. And even though it's not clear if Jo showed up at the shop with the old photo and Henry's watch that very same day, I'm guessing she did.
If someone else has been able to determine the correct time they met on the subway, please share.
