Fox River. Emilie Richards

heard the scrape of a chair, as if he was standing up. She ventured one parting shot. “Dr. Jeffers, let’s face the fact that this might not be the best place for me. If we can’t come to an understanding, then I’ll check myself out. No hard feelings.”

      “I’m not sure I can let you do that.”

      She was taken aback. “I admitted myself voluntarily. You’d have trouble painting a blind woman as a threat to anyone.”

      “You might well be dangerous to yourself, as that stunt last night proved. I’m surprised you didn’t burn down my clinic.”

      A touch of panic gripped her, an old friend by now. “The fire was out and I was careful.”

      “But what comes next? I think you’re seriously depressed and capable of acting out. A bad combination.”

      Oddly, instead of anger she experienced a surge of relief, which pruned the panic at its roots. Now she knew what she had to do. “I think we’re done here.”

      He was silent, and she wished she could see his expression. When he did speak, he was farther away, at the door, she guessed. “You have an appointment this morning with our internist.”

      “I had a physical at the hospital.”

      “Will you argue about this, too? We like to be thorough. Then you and I have an appointment at four-thirty. I’ll see you, then.”

      She wouldn’t see him. She would be gone by then. Any ambivalence she’d had about leaving had disappeared in the wake of his threats.

      

      At three o’clock Julia heard Jake’s pickup. By three-fifteen she knew Maisy had run into trouble, because she still hadn’t arrived at Julia’s door. Julia rang for Karen and waited impatiently until the young nurse came to her room.

      “Karen, my mother’s here again to visit. Would you find out what’s keeping her?”

      Karen sounded unhappy. “They aren’t going to let her up here to see you, Mrs. Warwick. Dr. Jeffers says it runs counter to your treatment plan. Security has orders. I’m sorry.”

      “Is she still here?”

      Karen hesitated, then she lowered her voice. “I’ll find out. Do you want me to give her a message?”

      “Yes, tell her to wait for me.”

      “Wait?”

      Julia was on her feet. “I’m coming down. I’m going home. This is outrageous.”

      “But you can’t do that. You signed yourself in.”

      “I’ll sign myself out. And I’m going to do it right this minute, so don’t ask me to wait.”

      “Dr. Jeffers isn’t here to—”

      “Good.”

      “But we can’t take you down there. We have orders—”

      “Damn it, I’ll find my own way, then. And if I break my neck while I’m at it, my mother can sue Gandy Willson.” Julia started toward the door. She felt her way past the desk and dresser before she bumped into Karen.

      Now Karen was pleading. “You’re going to get us in real trouble.”

      Julia hesitated a moment; then she shook her head. “I’m sorry. Just tell Jeffers the truth. You tried to reason with me. I refused to listen. I am refusing, that’s no lie.”

      “Let me call him.”

      “Do whatever you want. But he can’t get back before I leave.”

      “Let me talk to your husband.”

      “Good luck. He doesn’t listen very well.”

      Karen’s voice caught. “Please, don’t do this. Wait until—”

      Julia was a small woman, but she drew herself up to her full height. “Please get out of my way.”

      “But you’re going to get hurt,” Karen wailed.

      “I hope you’ve moved.” Julia started forward, feeling for the doorway. She brushed Karen as she wiggled through.

      In the hallway now, she realized how disoriented she was. There was an elevator by the nurses’ station, but she remembered being told that operation depended on a key. Dr. Jeffers had apologized for not having any vacant rooms on the first floor, which were state-of-the-art and handicapped accessible. He had promised her the first one that became available. At the time it hadn’t mattered. Now she realized how convenient this was for him. She was a prisoner of her own sightlessness. She was going to have to navigate the stairs alone.

      “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me which way to go?”

      “I can’t,” Karen said clearly. In a much lower voice she said, “Are you absolutely determined?”

      “I’m leaving.”

      She lowered her voice still more. “Go right. At the end, go left. The stairs are on your right, at the very end of that corridor. I’ll meet you there.”

      Julia understood. No one would fault Karen for giving in at that point and helping her patient to the first floor. She would be negligent to do anything else. But first Julia had to make it to the stairs alone.

      Julia took a deep breath, buoyed by the knowledge that at the very least she wasn’t going to tumble headfirst down a full flight of steps. She turned and took a step, then another. The hall was eerily silent. She wondered where the other patients were. Making pot holders or brownies in occupational therapy? She’d met no one since she arrived. No one had attempted to make her socialize. As she adjusted, Dr. Jeffers had wanted her to be alone with her thoughts.

      She slid her hand along the wall beside her, taking another shuffling step. Each time she put her foot down, she expected anything but solid floor. She was falling into darkest space, disoriented and more frightened with each step. But the alternative frightened her more. If she was forced to stay, the depression Dr. Jeffers had cited would grow to be as real as the blindness that held her in its sway.

      The wall dropped away, and startled, she jerked her hand back. Her feet were still planted firmly. She stood still for a moment, trying to picture her predicament. She realized that she must have encountered an open doorway, that there would probably be more than one on the hall. She lifted her left foot and replanted it in front of the right, feeling first with her toe to be certain the floor hadn’t suddenly dropped away, as well. Satisfied she kept moving. After what seemed like several yards she felt the wall again, but closer than it had been, as if she’d veered off course.

      She straightened and continued on. She had no idea how far she would have to travel. The hall could be a few more yards or many. She had driven by the clinic a thousand times, and now she tried to picture the building. Were the wings long? They were additions to an antebellum mansion, which was now the central reception area, but the additions were old, as well.

      She didn’t know how long she took to find her way to the end. She counted six doorways before she sensed something in front of her. She was sweating, even though the hallway was chilly. She was also trembling, afraid that each step would pitch her into space. Too well she remembered the terror of flying through the air, the sudden vision of total paralysis, the knowledge that she was about to hit the ground.

      The realization that she could no longer see.

      She stretched out her hands, but she touched nothing. She inched forward, arms extended, until her palms contacted glass. She was at the end of the hall, at a window, she guessed, and now it was time to turn left.

      She turned, right hand still touching the window to help orient her. Relief was seeping through the fear. She was going to make this terrible journey in time to reach her mother. Maisy wouldn’t leave without a drawn-out fight. But she had to hurry.

      Julia took a step, then