He shouldn’t have let Evie take the scooter. He was preoccupied with a report he had to finish. He had promised her that he wouldn’t take work on vacation, but of course he lied. Evie wore a new flowered top and flip-flops. After ordering another beer, he had waved her off without even saying goodbye.
Warm tears slid down his cheeks until he couldn’t feel them anymore.
“Dr. Jesson.” This time, a woman stood next to him. She wore a blue sweater and had thick black eyeglasses and no makeup. “Can you feel this?”
She frightened him. Had she been sent by the army? The woman had a nametag but it looked like someone had erased the letters.
Nametag held a tablet. “Dr. Jesson, can you tell me what day it is? Who is the president? Dr. Jesson, who is the president?”
Jesson had always been a gentleman, but he wanted to scream at Nametag. Stupid questions! He was a fuel engineer, Orcox’s best. He was a decorated pilot, he owned property on three planets. He had seventeen patents and was a millionaire. Once, he had been a husband.
But he couldn’t remember the president’s name. Lighterman? Delaney? They were presidents when he was a boy. He couldn’t remember the president’s name.
“March 15,” he said. Dr. Dick said March 15. Jesson’s voice was hoarse and wet, and he realized that he hadn’t spoken aloud in days. Yet he had been speaking so clearly to Evie.
“It’s March 21,” Nametag said. “You are in the sick bay on the Septima Clare. Do you remember what happened? You had a stroke, Dr. Jesson. One of the cleaners found you.”
A stroke. Did Evie know? “My daughter,” he said, trying to sit up. His body was like a sack beneath his head. “I don’t want to frighten her.”
Nametag had an odd look on her face. “Dr. Clark will be in to talk to you.”
He didn’t want to talk to Dr. Dick. He never wanted to see Nametag again. He was so thirsty. His stomach grumbled. Was he a prisoner of war? Again, he heard the tramp of the dark army and moaned. He would have Nametag and Dr. Dick fired. He was Dr. Andrew Jesson. He could have the entire place incinerated.
An icy cloth lay on his brow. He would have to let the housekeeper know not to expect him. Someone would have to help Evie with her college applications. He had a brother on Earth whom he hadn’t talked to in years. They fought when their mother died, Jesson couldn’t remember why. When Karen died, his brother sent a condolence message that Jesson ignored. Surely, his brother would forgive Jesson for Evie’s sake.
Dr. Dick came several times and tried to get Jesson to talk. But Jesson always waited until the doctor left. Then Nametag came in and he gave her the same treatment. The only one he wanted to talk to was his daughter.
“Sometimes, I don’t know where you are,” he said to her.
Against his side, she wriggled. “I’m always here. I’ll always be with you, Daddy. Tell me a story.”
How lucky was he? His daughter would always be as close to him as his left arm. He would be better to her, he promised himself. Maybe they could finally take that trip to visit his brother. Evie would meet her cousins and hike the Sawtooth Range, as he had as a boy. There was nothing like children to heal wounds between brothers.
“He thinks his daughter is here,” Nametag was saying. She stood again at his bedside, next to Dr. Dick and the Indian.
“He has a lot to wake up to,” Dr. Dick said.
Jesson tried to grab the doctor’s lapel. But his hand only got as far as the bed rail before Evie caught it.
“Don’t you see,” she said, laughing. “This is the best possible news! We can always be together. There’s nothing more to worry about.”
“The army,” Jesson said weakly. The truth was that every time she spoke, he forgot about the army. There was something sad there, too, something that passed just outside the room. But as long as she was beside him, he would never have to open the door.
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