PART 17 – I Had Stopped Expecting Scott to Call When Dr. Reyes Returned With a Different Expression and Asked Me to Sit Down

By the time Dr. Reyes came to see me again, I had stopped checking my phone every few minutes.

I still kept it beside Frank's photograph.

But I no longer picked it up whenever someone walked past my door.

There was no point making myself suffer through the same disappointment all day.

That morning, I had finished my tea and was folding my cardigan when I heard a knock.

"Come in."

Dr. Reyes stepped inside.

She was carrying a folder, and her expression was more serious than usual.

I put the cardigan down.

"Have you found something?"

She closed the door behind her.

"Mrs. Dunmore, may I sit with you for a few minutes?"

"Of course."

She took the chair beside the bed.

I watched her place the folder on her lap.

For a moment, she seemed to be deciding where to begin.

I had grown accustomed to that pause.

But this time, I sensed that she had something definite to tell me.

"I've been reviewing the information connected to your husband's name," she said.

I sat a little straighter.

"And?"

"I believe I've found the connection I was looking for."

I looked toward the photograph.

"Please tell me."

She opened the folder.

"When I first started working here, I was given information about the history of Willow Creek. The bronze plaque at the entrance was part of that introduction."

I nodded.

"I saw Frank's name on it."

"Yes."

She glanced at the photograph before continuing.

"When I read your full name on the chart, I remembered the name from that history. Then I saw your husband's picture, and I recognized the connection more clearly."

I waited.

Dr. Reyes took a breath.

"I believe Frank's association with this building was more significant than I initially understood."

I looked at her carefully.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I need to explain what I've learned, and I also need to be careful not to claim more than the records support."

I appreciated her honesty.

I had been given enough vague explanations to last a lifetime.

"Then tell me what the records say."

She opened the folder to a page she had marked.

"I've been reviewing the center's historical information and comparing it with the dedication at the entrance."

She paused.

"Your husband's name is included because of his connection to the building's history."

I looked at Frank's photograph again.

That much I had already suspected.

"What kind of connection?"

Dr. Reyes looked at me.

"I am still confirming the precise details. I don't want to give you an incomplete explanation."

I felt disappointment rise in my chest.

Then I reminded myself that I had asked her to be truthful, not merely comforting.

"All right," I said. "But please don't forget that I need answers about my own situation too."

"I haven't forgotten."

She placed the folder on the bedside table.

"I've also continued reviewing your admission information."

I waited.

"Your account of what your son told you has been documented. The fact that you understood this to be a temporary stay is important."

I felt my shoulders relax slightly.

At least someone was recording what I had actually been told.

"Does that mean I can leave?"

"I can't make that determination based on the information I have right now. We need to establish what authority was provided and what it permits."

I looked down at my hands.

I had hoped the answer would be different.

But I was no longer willing to accept a vague statement from anyone simply because they sounded certain.

"Will I be allowed to see the paperwork?"

"I will continue working on that request."

I nodded.

Then I looked at her again.

"Dr. Reyes, why did you turn so pale when you first saw my name?"

She did not look away.

"Because I recognized it from the history of this place, and I wasn't expecting to meet someone connected to that history in this way."

"Connected how?"

She glanced at the photograph.

"As Frank's wife."

I sat quietly.

That was a simple answer.

It also made me realize how little I understood about the place where I had been left.

For days, I had thought of Willow Creek as a building my son had chosen because it was convenient.

Now I knew that my husband had some connection to its history.

I still did not know what that meant.

But I wanted to understand.

"Did Frank ever visit here?"

"I haven't confirmed that."

"Did he know the people who ran it?"

"I don't know yet."

I nodded slowly.

"Then I suppose we have more questions."

"We do."

For the first time, Dr. Reyes smiled faintly.

It was not a smile of reassurance.

It was simply the expression of someone acknowledging that neither of us had all the answers.

Before she left, she promised to continue the review.

I thanked her.

After the door closed, I picked up Frank's photograph.

I looked at his familiar face and tried to imagine him walking through the entrance of Willow Creek years before I had ever set foot inside.

I could not picture it clearly.

I had no memory to guide me.

But I knew that his name had been placed on the bronze plaque for a reason.

And I knew that whatever that reason was, I wanted the truth.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: The Questions About Frank Were Finally Being Taken Seriously, but I Refused to Let Them Bury the Questions About Scott