Forgotten Place Read Free

five sessions you increased range of motion from 25 percent
to 65 percent?"
    "Of course I remember."
    "You're back down to 50 percent now,
Helen.  Congratulations.  You've probably tacked another
week onto therapy.  You're not trying to ease your way back
onto the job early, are you?"
    "No."  Truer words had not fallen from
these fat lips all year.  I scowled at her, and then nothing
in particular when she returned my expression with one of her
own.
    Don't blame me – you're the one who didn't
follow directions.
    Such a simple but effective look.  Amy
might've been an intern, but she had the skill of a veteran
already.  I harrumphed and admitted my crime.  "I figured
if I achieved 40 percent in five days with you, maybe I could bump
it up another fifteen or twenty on my own."
    "Your body needed the rest.  Pick up
the three pound weight and see if you can abduct to here." 
Her hand spanned a 30 degree arc away from my body. 
"Good.  Now hold it and count to thirty."
    Numbers started ticking through my head.
    "Count out loud."
    I groaned and let the weight drag my arm
down to my side.  "It hurts.  I should've taken that
magic pill before I came over this morning."
    "You should've followed my directions. 
Let's get the infra red on you for awhile and try the whirlpool,
see if we can't lure some of the stiffness out of the joint and
muscles before we try the exercises again."
    I was about to comply when the cell phone on
my belt clip chimed.
    "Don't even think about answering that."
    Too late.  I looked at the caller
ID.  Something about my dream sparked renewed desire to hear
the voice of whoever might be calling me.  An unfamiliar local
number only served to heighten curiosity, not dampen it.
    "Eriksson."
    "Helen, it's Zack Carpenter.  Am I
calling at a bad time?"
    My chest constricted.  Zack was not
pleased when the gunshot wound forced him to bring in a less
compelling forensic psychologist to testify at Jerry Lowe's
competency hearing.  The end result was far from
optimal.  Nobody lost, but nobody won either.  Lowe was
currently placed under an involuntary commitment order at Dunhaven,
the local psychiatric hospital, while a more in-depth evaluation of
his fitness for standing trial was conducted.
    "I'm in physical therapy.  Is this
about –"
    "Nothing serious, Helen.  I called
about your plans for the weekend."
    Wine.  Fireplace. 
Depression.  Self-loathing.  Nightmares.  Urgent
stuff.  "Um..."
    "You should've received the invitation in
the mail a few weeks ago."
    "Yeah, I haven't exactly been up to dealing
with my personal correspondence."
    His frown was silent, but I heard it just
the same.  "How is the therapy progressing?  Are you
getting adequate help at home?"
    Fine, Carpenter.  Blame my neglect of
the United States Postal Service on a bum arm.  "Yes, but I
bank and pay bills electronically, so what little I get in the
mailbox is usually junk.  No offense to whoever invited me to
something."
    "It's the annual Christmas party for law
enforcement personnel.  I suspected that you either weren't
feeling up to attending –"
    Great excuse, thank you very much.
    "Or hadn't seen the invitation.  It
would mean so much to everyone if you could attend, Helen.  I
thought I'd call and see if... well, if you aren't planning to
attend with someone already, perhaps you'd give me the honor of
escorting you to the event."
    I dragged my lower lip through my
teeth.  "I'm not sure I'm up for a social event, Zack, least
of all some police department Christmas party."
    Amy Bigmouth piped up, "It would do you good
to get out of the house, Helen.  You've got enough range of
motion for dinner and a little dancing.  Go with the man
already."
    She's lucky I'm impaired.  The urge to
drown her in the three foot deep aluminum whirlpool tub was
strong. 
    "Was that your physical therapist?"
    "She's an intern, so she barely qualifies to
have an opinion."  I glared at my tormenter and probably
melted ten