Dr. Reyes came back that afternoon.
This time, she brought a second chair and placed it near the window.
She seemed less hurried than she had during our earlier conversations.
"Mrs. Dunmore, thank you for speaking with me again."
I nodded.
"Have you found out anything about my admission?"
"I'm still reviewing the information related to your placement. I don't want to give you an answer before I have enough facts."
I accepted that.
Then she opened the folder on her lap.
"There is another matter I would like to discuss with you."
I looked toward Frank's photograph.
"Is it about my husband?"
"Yes."
I folded my hands.
"Please go on."
Dr. Reyes took a moment before speaking.
"When I first saw your name on the chart, I recognized it from something connected to the center."
I waited.
"I also recognized your husband's name after seeing his photograph."
I felt my heart beating harder.
"From where?"
She looked toward the door, then back at me.
"I am still confirming the details. But I believe your husband may have had a connection to the history of this building that I did not know about when I first began working here."
I stared at her.
"Frank never told me he had any special connection to Willow Creek."
She nodded.
"I understand."
"He wasn't a man who liked attention. If he had done something for this place, he might never have mentioned it."
"That is possible."
I leaned forward.
"Do you know what he did?"
"I don't want to guess."
Her answer frustrated me, but I could see that she was trying to be careful.
I had asked her to verify what she remembered.
Now she was doing exactly that.
Still, the uncertainty weighed on me.
I had spent four days trying to understand how Scott could have arranged my permanent admission without telling me.
I had spent another few days trying to understand why the director seemed to know my husband.
The two problems had begun to feel connected, even though I had no proof that they were.
"Doctor, I need you to understand something," I said.
She looked directly at me.
"My husband is dead. My son has stopped answering me. I may have lost the house where I lived for forty-four years. I don't have my documents, and I don't know what I agreed to when Scott put those papers in front of me."
My voice grew quieter.
"I cannot afford to spend my days wondering what everyone else knows."
Dr. Reyes closed the folder.
"I understand. You deserve clear information about your placement, regardless of anything we discover about your husband."
That was the answer I needed.
I nodded.
"Then please keep those matters separate until you know more."
"I will."
She made another note.
For a while, we discussed the practical questions surrounding my admission.
She asked what I remembered signing.
I described the papers at Scott's dining table as carefully as I could.
She asked whether I had received copies.
I told her I hadn't.
She asked whether I had understood that Scott was arranging a permanent stay.
I answered honestly.
"No. I believed I was agreeing to something temporary."
She wrote that down.
I watched her pen move across the page.
It was a small thing, but it mattered to me.
My words were finally being recorded as my words, rather than replaced by whatever someone else had written in a form.
When she finished, she looked up.
"I will make sure your account is included in the review."
"Thank you."
She hesitated.
"May I ask you one more question about Frank?"
I felt tired, but I nodded.
"Yes."
"Did he ever talk about the people who might need help after he was gone?"
I considered the question.
Frank had talked about planning for the future.
He had wanted our affairs to be in order.
He had also believed that people should not be left helpless when circumstances changed.
But I couldn't connect those beliefs to the building on the hill.
"He cared about people," I said. "That much I know."
Dr. Reyes looked at the photograph.
"I think that may be important."
I waited for her to explain.
She didn't.
Instead, she closed the folder and stood.
"I need to confirm something before I can tell you more."
I looked at her.
"Will you come back when you know?"
"Yes."
She walked toward the door, then turned back.
"Mrs. Dunmore, whatever your husband's connection to this place turns out to be, it won't change the fact that your concerns about your son and your admission need to be addressed."
I appreciated that she had said it.
I didn't want my situation reduced to a story about someone who had once been connected to the center.
I was still Margaret Dunmore.
I was still the woman who had been promised a short stay and then left without an explanation.
I was still the mother whose son would not answer the phone.
Those things mattered.
After Dr. Reyes left, I sat quietly beside the window.
I looked at the photograph.
Frank's expression was unchanged.
He had the same small smile, the same crease beside his eye, and the same familiar face I had looked at for years.
Yet I was seeing the picture differently now.
I wondered whether he had known something about Willow Creek that I had never asked him to explain.
I wondered why Dr. Reyes had recognized our names.
And I wondered whether the bronze plaque at the entrance, which she passed every morning, held a connection I had overlooked.
I had never paid much attention to it.
When Scott brought me through the doors, I had been thinking about my suitcase and the painters.
I had barely looked at the building.
Now I wanted to know what the plaque said.
I considered asking someone to take me to the entrance.
Then I stopped myself.
I didn't need to chase every question at once.
First, I needed the truth about my admission.
Then I needed the truth about the house.
And when Dr. Reyes was ready, I would listen to what she had discovered about Frank.
I placed the photograph back on the nightstand.
The scratch on the frame caught the light again.
I touched it once, then pulled my hand away.
For the first time in days, I felt that the next answer might come from someone who had a reason to tell me the truth.
I only hoped she would not make me wait much longer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: I Finally Asked About the Bronze Plaque at the Entrance, and the Answer Made Me Look at My Husband’s Photograph Differently
My Son Promised Me Three Quiet Nights Away From Home, and I Was Foolish Enough to Believe Every Word He Said
Part 12 of 24
