2: A Complex Puzzle

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id109.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Stolen Memories"><U><B>1:  Stolen Memories</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>2:  A Complex Puzzle</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id111.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Peeling the Onion"><U><B>3:  Peeling the Onion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id112.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Secrets Revealed"><U><B>4:  Secrets Revealed</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id113.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Going Home Again"><U><B>5:  Going Home Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id114.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: ThingintheBox"><U><B>6:  Thing-in-the-Box</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id116.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Challenging the Leviathan"><U><B>7:  Challenging the Leviathan</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id117.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Circling the Wagons"><U><B>8:  Circling the Wagons</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id118.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Jebs Curse"><U><B>9:  Jeb's Curse</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id119.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Spell of Jealousy"><U><B>10:  Spell of Jealousy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id120.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Carrying the Weight"><U><B>11:  Carrying the Weight</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id121.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: A Fiendish New Year"><U><B>12:  A Fiendish New Year</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id122.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Barnabas Crisis"><U><B>13:  Barnabas' Crisis</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id123.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: Barnabas in Parallel Time"><U><B>14:  Barnabas in Parallel Time</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id124.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: Clues to Disaster"><U><B>15:  Clues to Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id125.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: Demons Possession"><U><B>16:  Demon's Possession</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id126.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Breach of Trust"><U><B>17:  Breach of Trust</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id127.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Labyrinth of Emotions"><U><B>18:  Labyrinth of Emotions</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id128.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: The Amanda Dilemma"><U><B>19:  The Amanda Dilemma</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id129.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="20: Ziganas Cure"><U><B>20:  Zigana's Cure</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id130.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="21: The Approaching Storm"><U><B>21:  The Approaching Storm</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id131.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="22: Enigma at Collinwood"><U><B>22:  Enigma at Collinwood</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id132.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="23: Reunion in Hell"><U><B>23:  Reunion in Hell</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id133.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="24: Scattered Through Time"><U><B>24:  Scattered Through Time</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>2:  A Complex Puzzle</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id107.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Alternate Destiny"><U><B>Alternate Destiny</B></U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      "Hello," he said awkwardly to the gorgeous woman in the doorway.  She looked like a model, with her carefully coifed short hair and slim figure covered by a fur coat.  He could tell she had a sexy, curvy figure under that coat.  She was looking at him expectantly and most definitely as if she was glad to see him.  He was sure of it when she moved toward him, reaching out for him.  Surprised, he took her into his arms.  She tilted her head up, pulled his down and began to kiss him passionately.</div> <div>      He responded to her, feeling himself becoming aroused by her scent and by her passion.  But who the hell was she?  Suddenly, an idea occurred to him and he momentarily freed himself to ask:  "Did I come here to see you?"</div> <div>      "Of course you did!" she answered, pulling his head back down toward her.  Okay, he thought.  Happily, he began kissing her again.  He'd get her name later.  After a few moments, they both realized that if they kept this up they would have to go further and this was not the place for it.  She let go of him.  "Oh, God, it is so good to see you again," she told him, with deep feeling.  "I heard that you'd been hurt-I'm so glad it wasn't seriously."</div> <div>      "No, most of me works just fine," he agreed.  "It's good to see you, too-I just wish I could remember who you are."</div> <div>      She took a step back, obviously shocked.  "You don't recognize my face?"</div> <div>      He shook his head, no, reluctantly.  "I'm sorry-I don't.  Didn't the doctor tell you?"</div> <div>      "No."  Her eyes filled up with tears.  "Well-why did you kiss me, then?"</div> <div>      Maybe that was a dirty trick.  "I'm sorry.  It felt good, and it's obvious that you know me.  You said I came to see you."  He stopped, waiting expectantly.  He wondered if she was his girlfriend or his fiancee perhaps?</div> <div>      She reached into her stylish little bag for a tissue and carefully dabbed her eyes.  "I assumed you did.  We haven't seen each other in such a long time.  I had no idea that you wouldn't know me though.  Is it the accident?"</div> <div>      "That's what they say.  I hit my head really hard and had a concussion.  I have amnesia, they say."  Actually only Barnabas had really said he had amnesia, but what else could it be?</div> <div>      "Oh, no!" She cried, clearly distressed.  "What are they going to do about it?"</div> <div>      "Well, Dr. Hoffman offered to help me get my memory back."</div> <div>      "Dr. Hoffman?"</div> <div>      "Do you know her?  She hypnotized me once already, but we didn't find out a lot.  She's going to try again."</div> <div>      "Oh!"  She exclaimed.  </div> <div>      He thought she was going to break out sobbing and felt bad about that.  He moved toward her and put his hands on her shoulders.  "Believe me, you're not half as upset about this as I am.  The fact that I can't remember the name of a beautiful woman like you is maddening."</div> <div>      She laughed.  "Oh, you always had the silver tongue!"</div> <div>      "I did?"  He was interested.  "How are we-uh, I mean, how do we know each other?"</div> <div>      "We were very close once."  She'd begun to sniffle again, and he began to regret asking her.  Slowly one tear after another spilled down her cheeks.     He wanted to ask, aren't we close now?  He was reluctant to because she was already so upset.  Her tissue had become damp, so he turned to the table by his bed and retrieved the box of tissues there, offering them to her.  When she'd gotten control of herself again, she asked:  "When are you being discharged?"</div> <div>      "It looks like today.  If the doctor will hurry and sign all the papers."</div> <div>      "And where will you be staying?"</div> <div>      "Well, Dr. Hoffman was going to make arrangements for me-" he began.</div> <div>      She interrupted, waving her hand.  "Oh, that's ridiculous!  It's not necessary!  You'll stay with me, of course, won't you?"</div> <div>      He looked at her, wondering if that was a good idea.  Yet, she'd said, `We were close once.'  Why not?  What did he have to lose?  She probably knew everything there was to know about him.  "Of course," he answered.  Then he said, "Look, I'm sorry about upsetting you.  I'm upset about this myself, but I have to ask you what your name is.  I'm afraid I just don't remember."</div> <div>      She hesitated for only a moment.  She seemed to physically gather herself together and smiled bravely at him.  "It's all right.  I'll help you remember."  She touched his face gently with her fingers.  "My name is Olivia Corey."</div> <div>      "Olivia." He tried the name out.</div> <div>      "Do you recognize it?"</div> <div>      He shook his head, no.  "I'm sorry."</div> <div>      She smiled again, this time with humor.  "Perhaps I don't mind this so much after all.  Perhaps it would be nice to have some anonymity for a change."  He was confused and showed it.  She went on, "I might as well tell you-I'm an actress.  I'm somewhat in demand right now.  It won't be quiet in our suite-the phone rings a lot."</div> <div>      He was impressed.  An actress!  "That's all right," he said.  "I guess I could use a little excitement." They looked at each other and laughed.</div> <div>      "All right-Grant, why don't I go talk to the nurse and find out what time I can come back and pick you up?" Olivia asked brightly.</div> <div>      "Sure-but you'll come back for a while, won't you?  I mean, visiting hours aren't over yet."  Their eyes met again; he wanted to let her know he was very interested in becoming close to her again.</div> <div>      She got the message and blushed, but she didn't drop her eyes.  "Of course I'll come back," she assured him.</div> <div>      Well, well, he thought.  Maybe getting over this amnesia won't be as painful as I thought.</div> <bR> <div>      He was dressed and ready to go.  He'd changed into the clothes he found in his bag.  Dr. Harper brought him the other clothes he'd been wearing when the car hit him.  They were in as sorry condition as the trenchcoat, which he was very tempted to discard.  It was cold outside, however.  He hadn't even known what month it was.  Dr. Harper was the one who told him it was December, almost Christmas in fact.</div> <div>      That fact had depressed Grant.  Two weeks until Christmas, and I don't know where I belong, he thought.  Yes, there was Olivia, and he looked forward to seeing her again in another hour.  She couldn't be his only family, though.  Who did he belong to?  Was his mother and father worried about him?  Did he have brothers and sisters?  Was his family expecting him home for the holidays?  Almost without thinking, he'd begun humming a tune he knew from a song called, "I'll Be Home For Christmas".  It was a song for soldiers-now, how did he know that?  He frowned, a brief image in his mind.  Soldiers-but not dressed like the men he'd seen on the news.  Not soldiers in Viet Nam.  He began to sing the words, trying to grasp the memory.</div> <div>      "Hello, Grant." He jumped a little, startled.  It was Julia, and she'd been smiling.  Now she looked concerned.  "I heard you singing-what is it?  Do you remember something?"</div> <div>      "Nothing that makes sense," he said fretfully.  "That song I was singing-there were some soldiers singing that song."</div> <div>      "Where?" Julia asked quickly.</div> <div>      He shook his head.  "Not here.  Not in that place I saw on the news-Viet Nam?  Not there.  There was snow on the ground."</div> <div>      "What else?" Julia pressed.</div> <div>      He thought hard.  "I don't know.  It makes no sense.  I see the face of a soldier.  He's got his arms out-he's taking a bundle of blankets.  I think it's a child."</div> <div>      "Who is giving the child to the soldier?" Julia asked.</div> <div>      Grant shrugged, shaking his head.  "I don't know.  I only saw the soldier's face and the bundle of blankets."</div> <div>      "How do you know there's a child?" Julia asked.</div> <div>      "I don't know!" Grant shouted, furious.  "Don't you think I'd tell you if I knew?  It doesn't even make any sense!  I don't know where that place was!  I don't know the soldier!"</div> <div>      "It's all right," Julia soothed him.  "You see, though, that things are coming back in pieces.  They won't always make sense to you.  At some point, though, everything will click into place."</div> <div>      He folded his arms and scowled at her.  "Oh, really?  You're that sure?"</div> <div>      "I am," Julia said firmly.  "Try to remember the soldier's face.  What did it look like?"</div> <div>      Grant tried to bring the face back.  It was dark; the man's features weren't clear.  "I can't see his face-it's dirty.  It's covered with mud," he complained.  "I can't tell you what color his hair or his eyes are.  He's wearing some kind of a beret.  He's really tired."</div> <div>      "Tired?  What makes you think so?"</div> <div>      "Oh, God, I don't know!"  Grant was truly frustrated.</div> <div>      "It's all right," Julia soothed again.  "You said he wasn't a soldier from Viet Nam.  How do you know?"</div> <div>      "There's no snow in Viet Nam-at least I haven't seen any," Grant began.  Julia nodded, as if in affirmation.  "The boots are different."  Grant tried to think.  "The uniform was different-it was brown.  These guys I've seen on the news wear camouflaged uniforms."</div> <div>      "Interesting," Julia mused.  "You weren't in Viet Nam.  You were some place else, though.  We just don't know where-yet."</div> <div>      "How do you know?" he asked quickly. "Am I the soldier?  Is that what you think?"</div> <div>      Julia studied him for a few minutes before she answered.  "No," she said slowly.  "I think you were the man handing the child to the soldier."</div> <div>      Grant felt his body begin to tingle.  Instinctively, he felt that Julia was right-but why?  "What makes you think that?" he asked.</div> <div>      "The point of view," Julia answered.  "I believe you are telling me something you saw through your own eyes.  You would not see your own face."</div> <div>      That made sense, and he nodded.  "Do you think it has to do with what I said on the tape?"</div> <div>      Julia considered again.  She didn't seem to like to rush her answers.  She nodded and answered in an even voice, "Possibly."  She smiled suddenly.  "Well!  I have some good news for you.  I've found a place for you to stay-at the cottage of a dear friend of mine-"</div> <div>      Ooops!  "Oh, I'm sorry," he interrupted her.  She stopped, looking puzzled.  "I would have called you but I didn't know how to reach you," he went on lamely.  "I'm not going with you after all."</div> <div>      Julia's eyes widened with shock.  "Why not?"</div> <div>      "Because he is going with me," Olivia Corey answered from the door.  She looked at Julia and gave her a charming smile.</div> <div>      "Why, Miss Corey," Julia exclaimed with a falsely pleasant tone.  Grant could tell that there was bad feelings between these two and couldn't imagine why.  "I had no idea that you knew Mr. Grant."</div> <div>      "We are old friends," Olivia answered with the same false pleasant tone in her own voice.</div> <div>      "Was it your interest in art that attracted you together?" Julia asked.</div> <div>      From the way Olivia reacted, Grant could tell that it was a barb that hit home.  He became increasingly irritated with both of them.  "Do I like art, too?" he put in sharply.</div> <div>      Olivia's voice softened as she looked at him tenderly.  "You have an appreciation for all things of beauty," she answered softly.  Turning to Julia, she went on, "You'll excuse us, won't you, Dr. Hoffman? I've come to take Grant back to my suite.  I'm sure he'll want to rest."</div> <div>      Julia smiled, but her eyes were cool and appraising.  "Yes, I'm sure he'll want to."  She turned to Grant and softened her tone with him.  "I'm glad that you've bumped into your old friend.  May I call on you?  I'd still like to help you."</div> <div>      "Sure," he answered before Olivia could make a sound of protest.  He thought she was going to and was determined to find out why after Julia left.</div> <div>      When Julia left, Olivia picked up the phone and called the reception desk downstairs, asking to speak to her driver.  "Mr. Nakamura?  Would you come up for Mr. Douglas' bag please?  We're ready to go."</div> <div>      She hung up, and Grant said incredulously:  "I can carry my own bag, Olivia!"</div> <div>      She looked at him as if he was a naïve child.  "Don't be silly.  Why should you?  That's what I pay Mr. Nakamura for."  She looked at him closely.  "You're not used to servants?"</div> <div>      "Should I be?" he countered.  "You tell me."</div> <div>      "You were-once," she answered carefully.</div> <div>      He thought she was being evasive.  "You don't like Julia Hoffman," he observed.</div> <div>      She laughed.  "What on earth makes you think that?  I don't even know her!"</div> <div>      "Really?  I think you do know each other.  What's it all about?"</div> <div>      She rolled her eyes a little.  "Well, she has a theory I don't happen to agree with."</div> <div>      He wanted to ask her about it, but just then Mr. Nakamura showed up for Grant's bag.  He towered over the uniformed little man and he felt rather silly handing his light bag over to the driver.  Nicki the nurse showed up as well, with a wheelchair.  "I don't need that!" he protested.</div> <div>      "Hospital policy," Nicki answered implacably pointing to the chair.</div> <div>      Resigned, he sat down in the wheelchair, feeling sillier than ever, being pushed along by a nurse.  As they went down the hall, he could see people putting up decorations.  He'd have to ask Olivia about his family.  He forgot about Julia, especially when he saw the white limo pulled up in front of the hospital entrance.  You have got to be kidding! He thought.  But, after all, Olivia did say she was an actress.  This was really travelling in style!</div> <div>      Grant was surprised and puzzled when they pulled up in front of the Collinsport Inn.  "You're staying here?" he asked, surprised.</div> <div>      "Well, I know it's modest," Olivia answered in a slightly apologetic tone.  "It's really the only place in town.  Besides-I have a suite.  It's the best the Inn has to offer."</div> <div>      "No, I didn't mean that," Grant objected, as Mr. Nakamura got out and opened the door for them.  He followed her onto the sidewalk and then into the Inn.  "I mean, I thought I was here to visit you."</div> <div>      "You were," Olivia answered with a little laugh.  "You seem surprised."</div> <div>      "I thought maybe you had a home here," he answered slowly, trying to figure it out.  "You said you were an actress.  What are you doing <I>here? </I>"</div> <div>      They'd entered the foyer, and Olivia crossed to the check-in desk, asking the clerk for her messages.  Grant waited patiently but he noticed that she seemed to be trying to figure something out, too.  He wondered if she was playing games with him.  There were a handful of messages for her, and she took her time sifting through them.  Most of them she handed back to the clerk to discard.  She said to the clerk, "By the way, would you hold all calls-except from Dr. Hoffman?  Just take a message." Then she smiled prettily at Grant.  "I'm just upstairs," she said to him brightly.</div> <div>      Mr. Nakamura walked on ahead of them, carrying Grant's bag.  "Why are you staying here?" Grant repeated.</div> <div>      "Well, you heard Dr. Hoffman speak about art?  I was here with a portrait that I was going to loan to her for a show," Olivia answered.</div> <div>      "Oh?  You let me know you'd be here?"</div> <div>      "Yes, that's right," Olivia agreed.  He suspected it was the easiest thing for her to do.  She gave the keys to Mr. Nakamura, who opened the door for them and waited for them to enter.  He set Grant's bag on the floor, handed the keys back to Olivia, bowed to them both, and left, shutting the door after him.  "Wonderful man," Olivia observed, smiling brightly at Grant.</div> <div>      Grant looked around.  It was very nicely furnished, he thought, and quite possibly the best the Inn had to offer.  There were several pictures of Olivia around the room-different sizes and different poses.  He walked to the mantel of the fireplace in the sitting room and picked up the picture there.  He studied her features.  She was a flawlessly beautiful woman.</div> <div>      He realized that Olivia was very close to him.  "Are you sure you don't recognize my face now?" she asked huskily.</div> <div>      He set the picture back down and turned.  She was right there, so close he could lean over and kiss her with no trouble at all.  "I wish I could say yes," he whispered, and moved to kiss her.</div> <div>      She pouted and stepped back.  "Maybe you aren't the man I thought you were."  She sounded annoyed.</div> <div>      "What?" he exploded.  "What was all that at the hospital then?  And in the car?  You said you called me to meet you.  You said you were the one I came to Collinsport to see!" He was wild with anger.  It was bad enough that he couldn't remember who he was.  Why was this woman teasing him like this?  He wasn't going to put up with it and headed for the door.</div> <div>      Olivia beat him there and stood in front of it.  She was obviously shocked by his reaction and looked sorry that she'd provoked him so.  "I'm sorry, Grant!" she cried.  "I didn't mean it."</div> <div>      "Look-don't you understand?" he shouted at her.  "I don't know who I am!  Do you have any idea what that feels like?  I need help, not games!  It's not funny!"  He grabbed her, intending to move her from the door.</div> <div>      She threw her arms around his neck.  "No, don't go, please!  I'm so sorry I said that!  I'm just so upset that you don't know me!"   She burst into tears again, and he relented, pulling her into his arms and holding her.  Although why I should be the one comforting her is beyond me, he thought.  "Promise me you won't leave me," she wept onto his shoulder.</div> <div>      "I promise," he agreed.  Relieved, she lifted her head.  She wanted to be kissed now.  I don't understand her, he thought, but she is so beautiful.  He kissed her.  Coming up for air she turned her head to rest it on his shoulder, hugging him and obviously wanting to be hugged back.  "Do you think you could tell me about me?"</div> <div>      "Yes, but I'd also like to tell you about me, too.  Maybe you'll remember something," Olivia answered, taking him by the hand and leading him to the sofa.  They sat down together and she looked at him for a few minutes as she thought.  Finally, she said, "I was a singer and a dancer when we met.  I was travelling with a group-we were on tour."</div> <div>      "On tour doing--? A play?  A musical?" He guessed.</div> <div>      After a moment, she said, "A musical."  She pulled a photograph album toward him.  "These are some of the plays I've been in."  She was telling him about New York City as he looked through the album.</div> <div>      "We didn't meet in New York City," he said with conviction.</div> <div>      "No.  That's right, we didn't.  Before now, that's when we last saw each other."  He nodded, not really remembering.  He was about to ask her why that was the last time he'd seen her when he caught the thread of a melody.  He caught a glimpse of two people, waltzing together in a large room-but not a dance floor.  It was some sort of living room.  He shut his eyes, trying to capture the scene.  "What is it?" she asked.</div> <div>      He opened his eyes and shook his head.  "It's gone.  I thought I remembered something."</div> <div>      "What?" she asked eagerly.</div> <div>      "Just a few notes to a song.  Someone dancing.  I don't know."</div> <div>      "Maybe it was us.  Can you hum the notes?"</div> <div>      He shook his head, disappointed.  "It's gone."</div> <div>      She was clearly disappointed too.  Then she asked an odd thing:  "Have you ever heard of Quentin Collins?"</div> <div>      "Quentin Collins!" he exclaimed, looking at her suspiciously.  "Why do you ask me that?  Are you going to tell me I look like him?"</div> <div>      She swallowed hard.  "I see someone has already told you that?"</div> <div>      "Yes!  And he's someone who is about 100 years old-that's my understanding.  Why the hell did you ask me that?  Are you related to the Collins family?"</div> <div>      "No!  Not at all!"  She was very uncomfortable, turning away for a moment.  Then she looked back at him.  "My great-grandmother was an entertainer, too.  Her name was Amanda Harris.  Do you know that name?"</div> <div>      "No!  Should I?"</div> <div>      "Well, she was in love with Quentin Collins, and he loved her too."</div> <div>      His eyes narrowed.  "What are you getting at here?  Are you saying we're reincarnated?"</div> <div>      Her eyebrows shot up; she was genuinely astonished and burst out laughing.  "Why, what an idea!  Reincarnation!  I don't know much about it!  What made you think of that?"</div> <div>      He shrugged irritably.  "I don't know.  I thought maybe you were going to tell me we were star-crossed lovers in another time or something."  At the sudden expression of pain in her eyes, he asked, "Is that what attracted you to me?  That I look like this fellow, Quentin Collins?"</div> <div>      "Yes," she answered hesitantly.  "My great-grandmother showed me a picture of him once.  When I met you-well, yes, it did attract me at first.  But then I got to know you, and that was more important."  He had a feeling she wasn't telling the whole truth, but he couldn't understand why.  Before he could ask, someone knocked at the door.  "Oh, who could that be?" she exclaimed, sounding irritated.  "I had Mr. Nakamura put a `do not disturb' sign on the door!"</div> <div>      "It's not the maid then," he said as she got up to answer the door.</div> <div>      Julia Hoffman was at the door.  "Dr. Hoffman!" Olivia exclaimed, sounding displeased.  "I'm surprised to see you so soon!"</div> <div>      "I know," Dr. Hoffman replied, looking at Olivia earnestly.  She was holding a pair of white gloves, which she twisted nervously.  "I need to speak to you."</div> <div>      "Come in," Olivia replied with an exaggerated show of hospitality, throwing her arm out to indicate that Julia was welcome inside.</div> <div>      Julia's eyes met Grant's. He was surprised when Julia turned to Olivia and asked, "May I talk to you privately?"  They both looked at him.</div> <div>      Great, he thought, and stood up.  "I'll be glad to leave you alone," he said with a grace he didn't feel.  He realized, though, that he had no idea where to go and looked at Olivia helplessly.</div> <div>      "Oh, here," she said, understanding immediately.  "I'm sorry.  I meant to show you around, and we just got so busy chatting!  Let me show you your room."  She led him to a door, mouthed `thank you' at him and opened the door.</div> <div>      He walked into a bedroom furnished with a double bed, a recliner, a television, and a radio.  Not bad, he thought.  There were two sets of doors.  Curious, he opened one and realized he had a private bath.  Not bad at all.  He could hear the voices of the two women coming from the sitting room.  Olivia continued to sound displeased.  He tried the other door and saw it opened onto the hall.  Private entrance.  He liked that.  He considered wandering out and looking for a drink.  Where would he go, though, and what did he like to drink, anyway?  He didn't know.  He shut the door.  </div> <div>      The other door popped open, and he spun around.  Olivia gestured to him, and he realized she was asking him to come back into the room.  I feel like a puppy dog, he thought, feeling somewhat amused.  When he entered the room, Julia was smiling at him nervously.  Olivia looked a little nervous, too.  "Grant, I know that Dr. Hoffman's a qualified psychiatrist.  I also know that she wants to help you get your memory back.  Well, we've decided to put our differences aside and work together."</div> <div>      He grinned, definitely amused now.  "Oh, really?  How nice."  They were tussling over him; that was very funny.</div> <div>      "Is that all right with you, Grant?" Julia was asking.</div> <div>      "Hell yes," he agreed.  "I need all the help I can get.  When do we start?"</div> <div>      "May I take him now?" Julia asked Olivia.</div> <div>      "Excuse me," he objected immediately.  "Doctor, does this beautiful woman look old enough to be my mother?"  Julia's mouth popped open in surprise.  Olivia burst out laughing, covering her mouth.  "And another thing," he said, just getting warmed up.  "You and I looked at my driver's license.  It says I'm 27 years old.  Even if this was my mother, you don't need to be asking her permission to take me anywhere."</div> <div>      "You're right," Julia said apologetically.  "I'm sorry.  Would you come with me now?"</div> <div>      "I guess I'll rest later," he said, looking at Olivia.  He found the battered trenchcoat and pulled it on.</div> <div>      "Don't wear him out too much," Olivia said to Julia, and he gave her an aggravated look.</div> <div>      Julia smiled.  "I won't."  She looked at Grant.  "Come on, I'll buy you dinner.  Then we work."</div> <bR> <div>      Over dinner, Julia talked to him about her work at a hospital called Windcliff.  She was the chief administrator there; she only handled certain cases.  That left her free to do the paperwork that needed to be done but also left her free to delegate most of the responsibility so that she could pursue special cases and research.</div> <div>      "So I'm a special case?" he asked, savoring the brandy he'd ordered.  It seemed he hadn't had fine brandy in a long time.</div> <div>      "I would say so," she said.  She talked about how she wanted to treat him-more hypnosis and something she called the `association method'.  That meant trying to trigger a memory by using something else-like music.  It sounded interesting.</div> <div>      After dinner, she drove him onto the grounds of a huge mansion.  "Where are we?" he asked suspiciously.</div> <div>      "Does any of it look familiar?" she asked, pulling off the main drive.  There was a dirt road, almost like a worn track.  She almost coasted along and then stopped the car.</div> <div>      "No," he answered, "but I'll bet the Collins family lives here."</div> <div>      "Why do you think that?" she asked.</div> <div>      He snorted.  "Oh, come on, doctor!  This has to do with the startling resemblance I have to some old dead guy, right?"</div> <div>      "He might not be dead," Julia replied quietly.  "Are you ready?"</div> <div>      Surprised, he realized she wasn't going to the front door at all.  She pulled out a flashlight and went to a door he would have surely overlooked.  She opened it and turned on the flashlight.  They were in a darkened entryway.  She shone her light down what appeared to be an unused hallway.  "What is this?" he demanded.  "Why aren't we going in the front door?"</div> <div>      "I'm sorry, Grant," Julia replied softly.  "I need you to trust me.  Will you just do that and not ask me any questions?"</div> <div>      He ran his hand through his hair and realized that the idea of sneaking through some rich family's mansion was rather exciting.  "Okay," he replied softly.  "Just don't get me thrown in jail, all right, doctor?"</div> <div>      "It's a deal," Julia promised.  She led him through a maze of hallways.  He marveled at the size and complexity of the inner structure of this house.</div> <div>      "What the hell was the house used for?  Smuggling rum during Prohibition?"</div> <div>      Julia laughed.  "I rather doubt it.  This house was built in the late 1790s.  Old Joshua Collins did smuggle guns during the Revolutionary War; perhaps he anticipated other conflicts as well.  I really don't know."  She stopped before a door and opened it.  There were in a hallway, dark and filled with cobwebs.</div> <div>      "They don't use the whole mansion, then," he observed.  "What a waste of space."</div> <div>      "Yes," Julia agreed in a distracted manner.  She led him down the hall to another room.  It opened onto a small room filled with trunks and other junk.  Julia shone the light around while Grant looked at the objects the light feel upon with curiosity.  He could sense she was looking at him and shrugged.  Was this supposed to mean something?  There was another door, leading from this room into the next.  She went in and began fumbling in her pocket.  A match head flared, and she began lighting some candles on a table.</div> <div>      The room grew a little brighter with each candle that she lit.  It was someone's sitting room.  There was a chair here near the table.  Beyond that was the fireplace.  It looked like a wall had been taken down between rooms so that a bed could fit on the very far side of the room.  There used to be a partition there to close the sleeping area off from the rest of the room.  On the opposite wall was an old-fashioned roll top desk.  Finally, he saw the gramophone.  "Well!" he exclaimed, surprised.</div> <div>      "Do you recognize it?" Julia asked, eagerly.</div> <div>      "I know what it is," he answered.  "It's a gramophone, right?  But do I recognize it as anything else?  No.  Why should I?"</div> <div>      "Well, let's see," Julia said.  "May I hypnotize you again?"</div> <div>      "Sure."  He sat down in the chair and waited for her to pull out the pendant again.  He hoped this would work.  Once again, he heard her urging him to find the center, to look within himself, to try and see an image in this room.  It could be anything, anything at all, her voice urged softly.  He realized with part of his mind that he was in an altered state.  He saw himself get up and begin looking at different things in the room.  It was brighter, somehow.  It almost seemed as if the sunshine was streaming in the window.  </div> <div>      This was a place of refuge, of retreat from reality and from problems, but it wasn't always a happy place.  He began to pick up the books he found on the desk.  The titles all had something to do with the supernatural.  He was looking at one called <U>The Book of the Dead</U> when he heard the door open and turned to see who it was.  Two smaller figures stood there, probably children, but their faces were blurred.  The clothes were odd-the boy wore knickers of some kind, and the girl wore a long frilly dress with leggings.</div> <div>      "I'm going to play some music," Julia's voice said from far away.</div> <div>      He listened to the music.  It was soothing, but very sad.  The children were gone, and there was someone else in the room.  He couldn't see her face, either; he could see that her long blonde hair was pinned up and knew somehow that it looked lovely spilled out across a pillow.  Her dress was odd, too-not a short skirt like women wore now.  The dress went to the floor.  He felt confused.  "What is this?" he asked.  </div> <div> Someone else was in the doorway, filling up the entire space.  No, not someone-some<I>thing</I>, although it wore the body of a man.  He had an image of tight curly gray hair, round glasses, evil laughter, and a gravelly voice which threaten, "Oh, we are not finished yet, not at all!" He sat bolt upright, and felt Julia's hand on his arm, restraining him.</div> <div> "You're all right, Grant, you're awake now.  You're safe."</div> <div> He shivered as if he was out in the cold without a coat.  "What was that?"</div> <div> "Did you recognize him?" Julia asked.</div> <div> "No!" he exclaimed, horrified.  He looked at her.  "Was it a he?  He is evil, pure evil!  I don't know anyone like that, do I?"</div> <div> "He is coming out of your buried memories," Julia reminded him.  "You remember everything you saw this time, don't you?"  He nodded slowly, confused and still frightened by the vision of that monster, for that is what he decided the last "thing" he'd seen must be-even if it was disguised as a man. "Do you recognize any of these names?  Nora Collins?"</div> <div> He looked up at her sharply.  "Nora <I>Collins</I> ?  No!"</div> <div> She knelt down beside him, looking into his eyes.  "Don't let the last name bother you.  Just try to think.  What about Jamison Collins?"  He was beginning to feel angry again but he tried to do as she asked and concentrated on the name.  It meant nothing.  He shook his head, no.  "Beth Chavez?"  He sighed.  Still nothing.  "Count Petofi?"</div> <div> He jumped up.  What he felt was a surge of adrenaline coursing through his body.  <I>Run!</I> He heard a warning shout in his mind and didn't understand.  His heart began to pound wildly, and he felt very dizzy.  Was he having a heart attack-or going mad?  "Where did you get these names, doctor?" he demanded moving away to the window.  He tried to open it to get some air, but it was stuck.  Frustrated, he shoved at it but it wouldn't give.  "Damn!" he shouted.</div> <div> "Sssh, Grant," Julia shushed him.  "I don't want anyone to know that we're here."</div> <div> He swung toward her.  "Oh?  Why?  What is the big secret?  Who are those people I saw?  Did I give you their names?  I don't remember them telling me.  Why were they dressed so funny?"</div> <div> "I'll answer your questions, but one at a time," Julia said soothingly.  "Would you sit down again, please?"</div> <div> He returned to the chair reluctantly and sat down.  He saw Julia turn the gramophone on again.  "What is that music, anyway?"</div> <div> "Do you like it?"</div> <div> He shrugged.  "It's all right."</div> <div> "Have you heard it before?  Listen."</div> <div> He began to answer but then one note caught his attention, and then another.  He had a fragment of a memory again; it was the same one he'd had with Olivia.  "Is this it?" he wondered out loud.  He could almost see the dancers but then they twirled out of his vision and the music faded away.  He balled his hands into fists.  "I don't know!"  He was becoming more frustrated and glared at Dr. Hoffman.  "Look, I think you know what this is all about.  Why don't you just tell me?"</div> <div> "All right, I will."  She half sat on the table across from the chair.  "Please just listen because you're going to find what I have to say difficult to believe."</div> <div> "You think I'm reincarnated from this Quentin Collins character," Grant interrupted.</div> <div> Julia laughed.  "No, I told you, no."  She paused and then said, perfectly seriously, "I think you <I>are</I> Quentin Collins."</div> <div>      He couldn't believe his ears.  He hooted at her.  "Oh, come on, Doctor!  Carolyn Stoddard told me this guy would be about 100 years old if he's alive-do I look that old to you?"  Julia was about to say something, but some very funny images popped into his mind and he began to laugh harder, tears of mirth beginning to spill out of his eyes.  She didn't look nearly so amused.  He wanted to tweak her and suddenly knew with a certainty that needling people was a sport he engaged in frequently for his own entertainment.  "Oh, this is good, Doctor!  I'll bet I'm really dead, aren't I?  I'm a ghost-the ghost of Quentin Collins, and you are really a ghost chaser, aren't you?  But you can't chase me away until you help me get my memory back so that I can remember why I'm haunting this house, right?  Oh, a ghost with amnesia!"  He held onto his ribs; they began to ache with the force of his laughter.</div> <div>      Julia's expression was frozen and she fixed him with a steely eye.  She was beyond irritated.  She looked downright mad.  "Of course you are not a ghost!" she snapped finally.  "But did any other possibility occur to you?  Why do you suppose you saw the people you did in those `funny' clothes?  And that description you gave me of the soldier-that uniform you described makes him sound like a British soldier from World War II! Isn't that when you were supposedly an infant?"      </div> <div>      He stopped laughing.  This wasn't funny anymore.  This was crazy.      "I don't think you're helping me, doctor," he snapped back, angry.</div> <div>      There was a movement outside the door and Julia instinctively covered his mouth.  "You aren't supposed to be here!" She hissed at him.  "Hide!"</div> <div>      He arched his brows, moved her hand, and mouthed <I>where?</I>  She pointed toward the window, indicating the tapestry hanging there.  Okay, he thought, and got behind it.  He heard her open the door.  "David!" she exclaimed.</div> <div>      "Dr. Hoffman!  What are you doing here?" It was a child's voice, Grant realized.</div> <div>      "I could ask you the same thing.  What are you doing here at this hour?"</div> <div>      "I heard Quentin's music.  He's back, isn't he?"  The young voice sounded terrified.</div> <div>      "Oh, no, David!  That was just me.   Here, see?" She began to play the music again, and the boy cried out in such an agonized tone that Grant winced.</div> <div>      "Turn it off, turn it off!  Why would you play it?  Are you trying to bring him back?  He'll be very angry if you do-he'll kill us this time!"</div> <div>      The music went off abruptly.  "No, David, Quentin's ghost will never harm you again.  I am so sorry that I upset you by playing the music so loudly.  I'll take you back to your room, and then I'll come back here and lock the door."  This last bit of information was obviously to let Grant know she was returning.  As he heard their footsteps receding, he came out of his hiding place, looking at the door, thoughtfully.</div> <div>      He looked toward the gramophone.  Quentin Collins-whoever he was-must have been a very bad person to have so frightened that child.  Grant didn't like the image that presented.  What was Dr. Hoffman trying to tell him?  That he'd returned from the dead?  Dead or alive, he hated to think he'd be the type to terrify a child.  He had a feeling he liked children, deep down.  He had worked himself up into a self-righteous fury by the time Julia returned.  "All right, Doctor, why don't you tell me what this is really about?  How come that kid knew Quentin Collins?"</div> <div>      Julia sighed.  "Originally, Quentin Collins was a ghost who came back and haunted these rooms.  He possessed that child-David-and another little girl living here, Amy Jennings.  However, certain events transpired to change things, and there was no ghost anymore."</div> <div>      He looked at her with narrowed eyes.  "This is crazy! I want to leave--now."</div> <div>      "All right," Julia sighed.  "Perhaps it would be better if we did go."  She took him back out of the room but they didn't return to the labyrinth of inner hallways.  She took him into the occupied part of the house.</div> <div>      "What is this?" he asked suspiciously.  "Suddenly it's all right for me to be here?"</div> <div>      "Everyone's retired for the evening.  Try to be quiet," Julia cautioned.  She led him down the hall and to a staircase.  They got to the foot of the stairs, and his attention was drawn to a portrait on the wall.  He walked over to it and studied it, fascinated.  The clothes were very old fashioned, but it looked like that man-Barnabas Collins.  Grant looked into the eyes and felt drawn in.</div> <div>      Suddenly, he shuddered involuntarily.  He heard a familiar voice saying:  "Stay there. It's safer."  He began to back up, frightened.</div> <div>      "Oh, it's all right," Julia said.  "It's not really Barnabas Collins.  It's his ancestor."</div> <div>      "I want to go back to the Inn!" He exclaimed, edging around her.</div> <div>      "Mr. Douglas, I am sorry for the way things turned out.  I do hope you'll let me continue to help you."</div> <div>      He was more concerned with getting out the door.  "Let's just stick to the facts and no more crazy theories," he said.  Julia nodded.  "Okay, then."  He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out onto the path, looking for the dirt drive leading to her car.  He had his bearings confused and had to let her take the lead.  He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.</div> <div>      Julia started to get out of the car at the Inn.  He looked at her incredulously and said, "Are you walking me all the way home, Doctor?"</div> <div>      "I just want to make sure you're all right," Julia answered, surprised.</div> <div>      "Maybe you just want to give a report to Olivia," he suggested, somewhat resentfully, staring her down.  "Call her on the phone if you need to do that.  I'm a big boy.  I can take myself back upstairs-I don't need mommy to hold my hand."</div> <div>      "Well, I certainly didn't mean to imply-" Julia began and then broke off.  "You're right, of course.  You can get back to your room on your own.  I'll see you tomorrow?"</div> <div>      He turned away from her, waving her off.  "Yeah, yeah, tomorrow."  He went up to the room and realized he didn't have a key, so he knocked at the door.  Olivia opened it almost immediately; he wondered if she'd been standing by the door waiting for him anxiously.  "I'm back," he said, feeling foolish.</div> <div>      Olivia pulled the door open, her eyes wide with worry.  "Are you all right?  You look like you've been through a wringer."</div> <div>      He laughed.  "Oh, I do?  I'll have to look at myself-maybe tomorrow, when I'm not so tired."</div> <div>      "Are you too tired to talk?" she asked.</div> <div>      He looked at her and sighed.  "Well, if we were close once, you'll probably want to know it all."  He grimaced.  "I should have let Dr. Hoffman come up and tell you all about it.  You would have asked me to leave the room and I could have laid on my bed and fell asleep."</div> <div>      She put her hands on her hips.  "Well, I like that!  What makes you think I'd do that?"  He just looked at her.  "Well, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."  She turned away, clearly disappointed.</div> <div>      "No, I'll tell you," he said.  "Is there anything to drink around here?"</div> <div>      "Let me show you the bar," she offered, showing him where the liquor was kept.  It was a well stocked for a little inn; he was impressed and wondered if this was her stuff.  "Brandy?"</div> <div>      "Yes," he answered automatically and then looked at her.  "That's what I like to drink, isn't it?"</div> <div>      "Yes, if it's available," Olivia answered.  She poured two drinks out, and they sat down to talk.  He told her everything that happened, and she listened without interrupting until he spoke of the woman with blonde hair.    "She had long, <I>blonde</I> hair?" She sounded dismayed.  "Did she speak with a funny accent?"</div> <div>      "A funny accent?" He echoed, surprised and puzzled.  "She didn't say anything at all.  What funny accent?"</div> <div>      "I think it's called Cockney-but she didn't speak?"</div> <div>      "No."  He put his glass down and looked at her suspiciously.  "You think the same thing Julia does, don't you?"</div> <div>      "I don't know what Julia thinks," Olivia protested.</div> <div>      He started to laugh but it was a wild, hysterical sound rather than one of amusement.  "She thinks I'm Quentin Collins-and he's about 100 years old.  You were talking about him, too.  He was a ghost, did you know that?  He was a ghost at that gigantic museum out there-scaring little children.  A ghost, for Chrissakes!"</div> <div>      "It's all right," Olivia said soothing.  She opened her arms and hugged him.  "You're not a ghost.  You're very much alive."  She began to smooth his hair in a soothing manner. </div> <div>      He allowed her to do it, feeling a tingling sensation as she touched him.  It felt nice.  He reached out and took her hand suddenly and brought her fingers to his lips.  "You are, too, aren't you?"</div> <div>      "Very much," she agreed softly.  They kissed each other slowly, two people unsure of each other.  She put her hand on his face.  She wanted him, he could see that she did.  He thought he wanted her, too, but-he hesitated.  "What is it, Grant?" she asked.  </div> <div>      He didn't know.  Was it right to make love to her when he didn't know who he was?  What if he was married to someone else?  "Olivia," he said hoarsely.  "I just wish I knew more about us."</div> <div>      "Ask me anything," she replied.</div> <div>      "Are we married?"</div> <div>      "No-you asked me to marry you. But we're not married."  She cleared her throat a little.  "There were-obstacles.  There were things you needed to do, first.  I was going to wait for you."</div> <div>      "What obstacles?" he asked.  "My family?"</div> <div>      "I don't think they would have approved," she agreed.</div> <div>      So-she knew his family!  He sat up.  "Are my parents alive?"</div> <div>      "No," she answered.  She was telling the truth, he could tell, but she wasn't volunteering anything additional, either.  She looked uncomfortable, biting her lip.</div> <div>      "What about brothers, sisters?"</div> <div>      "I don't know, Grant.  They're not here.  I only know for sure that you had one brother who died-his name was Carl."  Carl.  His face tightened with frustration.  Nothing was clicking in place at all.  Olivia was stroking his face again.  "It'll be all right.  You'll remember."</div> <div>      He moved to kiss her again.  He felt lonely and wanted to be comforted, so he convinced himself she was telling him the truth.  He didn't have anything to feel guilty about; she wanted him too.</div> <bR> <div>      "Wake up!  Oh, please! Wake up!" a voice said insistently.  Someone was shaking him roughly.  "What is the <I>matter </I>with you?"  </div> <div> He opened his eyes sleepily and blinked several times.  There was an odd glow in the room.  There was a woman there with him, insistently pulling on his arm.  He tried to push her off, but she refused to go.  Stubbornly, she moved closer to him, and he gasped.  "What are you?  A witch?"</div> <div> "You don't remember!  You have to remember!  Get up!  We have to open the door!  I can't do it alone-you have to help me!"  She was wild, her eyes blazing, her red hair snarled and tangled in knots.</div> <div> "Get away from me!  Get away!" he shouted, thoroughly frightened.</div> <div> "We have to save them!" she screamed back at him, hysterically.  "We have to get you free, but I can't open the door by myself!"</div> <div> "No, no, no!  Don't open it!  It's safer if the door stays closed!"</div> <div> "No, everyone will die if we don't get you out!  Get up!"</div> <div> "Go away!" he screamed again, pushing hard.  He heard a thump and a shriek and opened his eyes.  He realized he'd shoved Olivia off his bed.  "Oh, God, Olivia!"  He turned the light on.  She was getting up off the floor, staring at him, obviously terrified.  "I'm sorry!  I had a dream-did I hurt you?"  He reached for her and she moved into his arms willingly, putting her arms around him.</div> <div> "I know you did," she whispered.  "It must have been horrible.  Can you remember it?"</div> <div> "There was a red headed witch, trying to make me go somewhere with her."</div> <div> "Red hair?" Olivia repeated, her voice sounding cold.  "Like Julia's?"</div> <div> "It wasn't her, though-this was someone else.  She looked like a witch-her eyes were all wild and her hair was scraggly.  She had all this thick mascara-" he broke off.  He really didn't want to remember.</div> <div> "Maybe Julia's pushing too hard," Olivia whispered.  "Maybe that's why she looked like a witch to you.  Sssh, it's over now.  Lie here with me now until you forget about it and go back to sleep."</div> <div>      They lay in each other's arms, but it was Olivia who went to sleep first.  Grant turned the dream over and over in his head.  Olivia thought that it meant Julia was pushing too hard; he could understand what would make her think it, but he couldn't help but feel that it was something else.  Did they really belong together?  He had a nagging feeling that there was something else that he was supposed to be doing-but what?  What?</div> <bR> <div>      Julia called the next morning while they were having breakfast.  Olivia was saying, "I don't think it's a good idea today, Julia," when Grant reached over and took the phone out of her hand.  Olivia gave him a hurt look mixed with annoyance, got up abruptly, and left the table.</div> <div>      "I might have had a dream about you last night," Grant said into the phone, watching Olivia walk away.  She was beautiful; there was no question about that.  The only thing that exceeded her beauty was her passion, and she was fiery-even more so, now.  He could feel his desire for her swelling as she stalked off angrily.     </div> <div>      "Really?" Julia sounded surprised and laughed.  "I suppose I should be flattered.  Will you tell me about it?"</div> <div>      "Sure.  What time?"</div> <div>      Olivia stopped in her tracks, and half-turned, glaring at him.</div> <div>      "I could come by, and perhaps we could have lunch together.  We could do a little work together."</div> <div>      "Not in the same place," he insisted.</div> <div>      "No-we can stay in the room or go somewhere else," Julia agreed.  </div> <div>      "Okay."   At that, Olivia went into her room and slammed the door.  He looked at his watch.  "Lunch time, you said?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I need to stop off in town and see some friends."</div> <div>      "It sounds perfect," he said.  Plenty of time.  He hung up and went to Olivia's door, knocking softly.  "Olivia!" he called to her.</div> <div>      "Go away!" she called angrily.  He tried the knob; it turned easily in his hand.  He opened the door and walked in.  Her face was a bright red scarlet.  "How dare you!  Get out of my room!"</div> <div>      "I'll tell Julia about the dream," he said, mostly to appease her.  He was feeling aroused by her ire.  Her eyes sparked furiously; she looked incredibly sexy.  "Isn't she the expert?  If she tells me it's too much, we'll lay off.  Olivia, you want me to remember, don't you?"</div> <div>      "I want you to do what's best for you!" she snapped.</div> <div>      "You mean you want me to do what you want," he corrected.  She stamped her foot, and he laughed.  He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.  "Do you want me to do this?" He kissed her deeply, urging her to open her mouth to him by nibbling on her lower lip.  She sighed deeply and gave in.  Her passion most definitely exceeded her beauty.</div> <bR> <div>      When Julia arrived, Olivia had already gone out.  She looked serenely content, like a cat that had gotten more than her share of cream.  Grant felt something similar and not very hungry when he answered Julia's knock.  She seemed harried and distracted.  "Where is Olivia?"</div> <div>      "Shopping-to give us privacy," he answered.  "Look, I'm not that hungry.  If you're not starving, do you mind if we just have sandwiches sent up here?"</div> <div>      "That's fine," Julia answered, still sounded distracted.  </div> <div>      What's up? He wondered, dialing the clerk's desk.  He ordered a couple of sandwiches and put his hand over the phone.  "I'm sorry-you want a coke or a beer or what?"</div> <div>      "I want a scotch straight up," Julia replied.  Grant fumbled with the phone, his eyes widening.  Julia waved her hand.  "I'm sorry.  Coke is fine."</div> <div>      "Two cokes," Grant said into the  phone and hung up.  He crossed his arms on his chest.  "Scotch straight up?  What's the matter?"</div> <div>      Julia grimaced.  "Nothing you need to worry about, Grant.  It's another-problem I have to deal with.  A sticky one."</div> <div>      He looked at her with some interest.  "I like puzzles.  Sure I can't help?"</div> <div>      "How do you know you like puzzles?"</div> <div>      He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little puzzle cube.  Tossing it to her, he said:  "Remember?"</div> <div>      Julia laughed.  "All right, but let's start with your puzzle first.  Tell me about your dream."</div> <div>      He told it to her, leaving out the part about knocking Olivia to the floor.  He did say, "I told Olivia.  She thinks I was dreaming about you-that you're pushing me too hard."</div> <div>      "Oh?" Julia's brows went up just slightly.  "And what do you think?"</div> <div>      "I think she didn't look like you," Grant answered.  "If you were pushing me hard, she would have looked like you, right?"</div> <div>      Julia shook her head.  "Not necessarily.  Sometimes you might use a symbol in your dream.  You didn't recognize the red-headed witch at all?"</div> <div>      "No."</div> <div>      Julia considered.  "Possibly you feel that there is something you haven't done yet-something that is hidden to you because of your amnesia."</div> <div>      Grant liked the fact that she was leaving the decision to him.  "I thought about it last night, and yes, I think that's what it is.  But I don't know what I'm supposed to do."</div> <div>      Julia seemed to be trying to decide something.  After a moment she said, "Since the woman doesn't remind you of anyone, perhaps Olivia is partially right.  You haven't been happy with some of the things we've talked about.  I may seem like a witch to you."</div> <div>      He laughed at that.  That thought hadn't occurred to him.  He was sure she was going to pull another Collins name out of the hat and throw it at him.  She smiled and once again, he realized that she had a rather pretty smile.  "Maybe a witchdoctor, doctor?"</div> <div>      Julia laughed aloud.  "Perhaps.  And I thought I asked you to call me Julia."  She reached for her bag.  "Shall we begin?"</div> <div>      Once again, she allowed him to remember because the bad person didn't appear until the end.   He saw the Inn; it was furnished differently.  He could hear someone singing.  She moved into his field of vision.  Her features weren't clear, but he could tell that she had large, expressive eyes.  She was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with rich auburn hair.  She was singing-for someone; he couldn't tell who.  "She's the one who wanted me to open the door," he said.</div> <div>      "Are you sure?  Can you see the door?"     He concentrated.  It was a cell door; it was a heavy iron door, cold and sinister.  There was a flight of steps down to the door, wet and dripping with dampness.  This was a place of misery, of torture, and he shivered.  "Are you able to get down the stairs?"  He was.  He could hear someone's exhausted voice speaking, but to whom?  He repeated the words to Dr. Hoffman.  "Can you get to the door?" she asked.</div> <div>      There was a dark corner.  Someone was standing there watching him, shaking his head no in a warning manner.  "No," he whispered.  "Someone doesn't want me to."</div> <div>      "Who?"</div> <div>      He tried to peer into the corner.  "I can't see him.  It's a man, but he's standing in the dark.  He says it's safer to keep the door closed."</div> <div>      "All right, Grant, let's talk about it.  Come back up the stairs now."</div> <div>      He turned, and he was looking into the cold, hate-filled eye of the crew-cut soldier with the eye patch.  He wore an officer's gray uniform and had black shiny boots.  He held up a sharp knife, dripping with blood.  "I've finished her," he snarled.  "Now come here.  It's your turn, my boy." Grant screamed wildly.</div> <div>      "One, two, three, wake up! Grant, wake up! You're safe!"</div> <div>      His heart was pounding wildly again.  "I saw him! I saw him this time!"</div> <div>      "You must tell me what you saw," Julia insisted.  "What did he look like?  Short? Fat?  Curly hair?"</div> <div>      He looked at her as if she was insane.  "No!" he shouted.  "Listen!"  Rapidly, he described the man, his words spilling over themselves.  Julia listened carefully, but she looked increasingly confused.  "You don't know what it's all about, do you?" he asked, deeply distressed.  He was terrified of that man-whoever he was.</div> <div>      "I thought I knew, but I was mistaken," Julia whispered.  "Grant, I'm sorry."</div> <div>      "He's evil, evil!" Grant exclaimed, agitated.  He began pacing.</div> <div>      "Grant, come and sit down a minute," Julia urged. "I want to try something else."</div> <div>      Reluctantly, he sat down and realized she was going to hypnotize him again.  "Are you going to make me remember the man, Julia?" he asked fearfully.</div> <div>      "I don't think now is the time," Julia said softly.  </div> <div>      As he felt himself going under, he said to her, "I'm afraid of him, but I have to know."</div> <div>      "In time, in time," she assured him.  He heard her asking him to search for a thought that made him happy.  He tried to relax, sure that the recent image of making love to Olivia would come into his mind.  He was surprised, though, to feel the wind on his face.  He was in motion, feeling a little off-balance.   He was flying-but that wasn't possible because he was sitting down.  "Where are you?"</div> <div>      "I'm not sure," he began hesitantly.  Then he realized how it was possible to be flying with the wind in his face but still sit down.  "I'm swinging-no, someone is swinging me."  Tell me, she urged.  The tree was large-maybe it was an oak tree, and it was an old rope swing with a wooden seat.  The ropes were tied to the branch, and he was sitting on someone's lap-Edith.   She had her hand on his back so he wouldn't fall-but he wouldn't have fallen anyway.  She had him sitting backwards, facing her, so that she could hold him more securely.  She would keep him safe.  </div> <div>      Julia's voice was in his ear, reassuring him, telling him that he would remember that safe feeling and nothing else when he woke up.  Slowly she counted, and then he opened his eyes.  He felt a sense of well being and safety, but nothing else.  He looked at her suspiciously.  "I remembered something bad again?"</div> <div>      "Someone frightened you very badly at some time in your life," Julia told him seriously.  "Until we can figure out who it was, I can't help you deal with it.  I can't leave you with that memory, either.  Not without some way of dealing with it."</div> <div>      "Well, how do we know I'm not in any danger from this guy now?"</div> <div>      "You said something in German again, Grant.  I think that this man is not here-he is in Germany, or somewhere far off.  It may have been from a long time ago."</div> <div>      "What did I say?" he asked.</div> <div>      "You said that you heard words coming from behind the door you spoke of in your dream: `Erklären Sie Dorn, das, bevor ich ihn gebe, was er wünscht, mich Beth sehen lassen muß. Bitte. Ich muß mit ihr sprechen! `  It means something like, `Tell Dorn that I have to see Beth before I give him what he wants.  Please, I have to talk to her.'"  Julia put her hands over her mouth and sighed.</div> <div>      He put his head into his hands.  "Beth? Who's Beth? What's all this German about?"</div> <div>      "You were there," Julia told him.  "I don't know when or how, and I know you don't like hearing this.  For whatever reason, you were there."</div> <div>      "And how long is it going to take to solve this particular puzzle?"</div> <div>      "Grant, I wish I could tell you what you want to know," Julia threw her hands open.  "I can't."</div> <div>      "Can we work some more?" he asked.  Julia gave him a doubtful look.  "Well, will you at least stay with me until Olivia gets back?"</div> <div>      She took his hand in hers.  "Of course I will."</div> <div>      The phone rang, and she released his hand so that he could answer it.  He thought it would be Olivia, telling him she would be late or perhaps asking him to meet her somewhere.  The desk clerk said, "I'm sorry, sir, I know Miss Corey said to hold all calls, but the child insists it's terribly important."</div> <div> A child?  "I'll take it," he said, curious.  The desk clerk put the call through.</div> <div>  "Is Mr. Douglas there?"  It was a very young voice; he couldn't tell if this was a boy or a girl.</div> <div>      "I am Mr. Douglas," he answered.</div> <div>      "Oh!  Well, Carolyn asked me to call you and let you know that you left a book here in the antique shop.  Do you want to come and get it?" the voice said.</div> <div>      "Uh-yes, I will. Will she be there?"</div> <div>      "She'll be here in about an hour-if you want to see her."</div> <div>      "Okay, thanks."  He hung up the phone, and turned to Julia, puzzled.  He told her about the book.  Her eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling.  Something was up, he thought.</div> <div>      "Why don't we talk awhile and then I'll go with you to get your book?" Julia suggested. </div> <div>      "All right, if you tell me why you looked so surprised just now."</div> <div>      Julia smiled slightly.  "It's just that I've been there several times myself recently.  I've bought several paintings from the Todds."  She looked at Grant closely.  "Tell me, do you like paintings?"</div> <div>      He shrugged.  "I guess."  </div> <div>      Julia nodded.  They talked for almost an hour when the phone rang again.  This time, it was the desk clerk with a message for Dr. Hoffman.  She listened for a moment and then said, "All right, thank you.  I'm just curious-did she happen to mention how she knew I would be here?  I see.  Thank you."  She hung up and turned to Grant.  "I hope you don't mind, but an emergency seems to have come up.  I'm afraid I can't go with you to the antique shop.  Will you be all right?"</div> <div>      "Sure."  He looked at her face, suddenly pale and strained.  "Are <I>you</I> all right?" he wondered.</div> <div>      "Fine, thank you.  It's just a friend who is-ill," she explained awkwardly.  She took his hand.  "I'll see you again later.  We'll keep working on your puzzle."</div> <div>      He smiled.  "Okay," he agreed.  "Oh, Julia?  Could you tell me how to get to the antique shop from here?  I can't seem to remember."  He managed to laugh at that.</div> <bR> <div>      The book might tell him something about himself, he thought, as he started to enter the antique shop.  Maybe there would be a note inside.  As he stepped into the shop, he saw a little girl in pigtails standing with her back to him.  She called in frustration: "I don't want to play anymore!  I'm too old to play hide and seek!"</div> <div>      He cleared his throat and the girl whirled around, her eyes widening.  "Excuse me.  I wonder if you could tell me where Carolyn-"</div> <div>      The child screamed, terrified, shocking him into silence.  "No, no, I didn't mean to!" she shrieked, running for the stairs. </div> <div>      He started to follow her.  "Hey!" he called after her.</div> <div>      "No, no, please don't hurt me, Quentin, I didn't mean to! Please!" she continued to shriek as she ran up the steps.  He could hear her racing down an upstairs hallway.  "Help me, please!" she screamed.  He heard a door opening upstairs, followed swiftly by more loud piercing shrieks.</div> <div>      Unnerved, he ran out of the shop as fast as he could and up the street.  At the end of the block, he slowed down to catch his breath.  He found that he was trembling uncontrollably and leaned against the wall of a building.  Directly across the street was a bar-he could see the flashing outline of a bottle in the window.  I have to have a drink, he told himself, staggering toward the bar.</div> <bR> <div>      Grant lost track of the time after having a dispute with the bartender about whether or not he should have any more drinks.  He won the argument after providing the phone number of the Inn; satisfied, he took his drink over to the jukebox and looked for some Duke Ellington to listen to.  He was too drunk to wonder why that musician's name came to mind, but not too inebriated to become angry that this place had the bad taste not to have any of that bandleader's selections.  "You've got nothing but shit on this juke, you know that?" he called to the bartender, who was hanging up the phone.</div> <div>      "Hey sorry, pal, next time I'll let you pick `em!" the bartender answered mildly.  "Hey, c'mere, buddy, why don't you sit down a minute."</div> <div>      "I am not your buddy," Grant informed him carefully but took the offered seat at the bar.  There were a few men sitting at tables, watching him.  "What the hell are you looking at?" Grant snarled, challengingly.  He wanted to get into a fight.  He didn't see the bartender shake his head, no, and indicate that the men should remain seated.  "What a fuckin hick town!" Grant grumbled.</div> <div>      He heard the door open but didn't look around until he realized that there were people on either side of him: Mr. Nakamura and Olivia.  "Grant!  What happened?  What are you doing here?" Olivia was saying.</div> <div>      "Oh, good, someone pretty to talk to.  Sit down," he said.</div> <div>      "No, I want you to come back with me," Olivia answered.</div> <div>      He started to object but felt Mr. Nakamura's hand on his shoulder.  The fingers felt like steel.  Grant considered having his fight with Mr. Nakamura but when he looked into the chauffeur's eyes, he thought better of it.  Nakamura looked calm but assured.  Grant had a feeling he would lose badly, and he had no desire to be publicly humiliated. "Since when did you become my keeper?" he asked Olivia nastily.</div> <div>      "It's a good thing for you that I care about what happens to you," Olivia replied.  She sounded whiny and superior at the same time, if that was possible.  He shook her hand off him, removed Mr. Nakamura's hand and got up to go with them.  He sulked the entire way back to the inn.  Olivia wouldn't speak to him either, looking out the window and fighting back tears.</div> <div>      Once in the room, he headed for the bar and poured himself three fingers of brandy.  He held the glass up to her, as if to toast her, and gulped it.</div> <div>      "What's the matter with you?" Olivia demanded.  She was becoming angrier.  "It's that Julia Hoffman!  I <I>told</I> you it would be a bad idea to see her today!"</div> <div>      "No, it's not Julia Hoffman!" he snapped back.  "You think you know everything!"  He took another gulp of his drink.</div> <div>      She put her hands on her hips.  "Well, what's the matter then?"</div> <div>      "I'm sick of not knowing who I am!" he shouted at her.</div> <div>      "Oh!" she exclaimed, furious.  "You are drunk!  I'm sure this is frustrating for you, but try to imagine how I feel!  And you seemed to be dealing with it all right-until you wouldn't listen to me-"</div> <div>      "I told you it has nothing to do with Julia!" he interrupted, shouting back at her.</div> <div>      "Lower your voice!  I don't want everyone to hear!" She exclaimed.</div> <div>      "Oh, no?" he raised his voice.  "I don't care who hears me!"  He glared at her resentfully.  "And what is this `imagine how you feel' shit?  You know who you are!"  His voice dropped to a mumble.  "You don't have to worry about scaring little girls."</div> <div>      "What?" Olivia repeated, shocked.  He knew she'd heard part of it.</div> <div>      He yelled again, throwing his glass.  "I said, I scared the shit out of a little girl!"  The glass smashed on the wall, and the door opened promptly.  Mr. Nakamura stood there, looking at Grant impassively.  Grant looked at Olivia.  "Hey, just what is he, anyway?  Your guard dog?"</div> <div>      "It's all right Mr. Nakamura," Olivia assured the man, who looked at Grant doubtfully.   "I promise-I will call you if I need to."  Mr. Nakamura shut the door, still looking unhappy.  "Grant, calm down and talk to me about this."</div> <div>      "Hey, did he listen outside the room last night and this morning while we were fucking?"</div> <div>      Olivia blanched.  "That's vulgar!  I won't have that, do you hear me?  I'll scream, and he'll come in here and he'll beat you up!  He will!"  She was on the verge of tears.</div> <div>      Grant felt guilty.  None of this was really Olivia's fault, and he really shouldn't have been so nasty to her.  However, he was drunk and truculent and wasn't going to apologize, especially now that she'd threatened him.  "Go ahead," he challenged her.</div> <div>      "I don't understand you!" she cried.  "You're disgusting!  Why don't you go sleep off your drunken self-pity!  You're acting like a great big baby!"</div> <div>      Outraged, he stalked to his room and slammed the door, locking it.  That would fix her.  Maybe not enough, though.  He knocked everything off his dresser, mostly toiletry items from the hospital.  Too late, he realized Olivia had bought him some things, too.  After-shave and cologne went flying along with everything else.  Well, now that he'd gone that far, he looked around to see what else he could break.  When he'd thrown everything he could pick up around the room, he surveyed the damage with happy satisfaction.  He remembered the door that opened onto the hallway and managed to let himself out quietly.</div> <div>      He was hungry.  He had his wallet with him and checked to see if there was any money.  He was pleased to see there was enough to get him dinner and a movie if he wanted.  His plans changed when he sat down next to a truck driver at the coffee shop.  The driver was headed for Portland.  Grant remembered the name of "The High Hat Lounge" on a book of matches from his pocket.  That was in Portland.  He asked for a ride.</div> <div>      The driver grunted and said if he had another cup of coffee, sure, he'd be glad to give him a lift to Portland.</div> <div>      Grant ordered the second cup of coffee.  Why not?  He could get drunk again in Portland.     </div> <bR> <div>      "You're allowed one phone call," the police captain said to Grant, placing the phone in front of him.</div> <div>      Grant snickered.  He didn't know any lawyers.  Who could come and bail him out?  Who would want to, looking and smelling the way he did?  He thought of Olivia and felt shame.  He thought about calling Julia but hadn't brought her phone number along.  He called the Collinsport Inn, asking the clerk to ring Olivia Corey's suite.</div> <div>      He wasn't surprised when Olivia exploded at him. "Where the hell have you been?" she scolded.  "Do you realize what time it is?  Do you have any idea how worried everyone is about you? Dr. Hoffman was here looking for you--"</div> <div>      Grant began to laugh.  He handed the receiver to the captain.  "Would you please tell my mommy where to find me?"  He laughed until he cried.     </div> <div> "Ma'am, your son is in a heap of trouble here," the captain began, and Grant whooped, doubling over with laughter.  "Damn it!" the captain roared.  "McLarty, would you escort this jackass to the holding cell please!"  Grant felt himself being dragged away.  He went willingly, howling with laughter. </div> <div> Why?  Why was he so special?  He'd had enough time to begin brooding in his cell about that. He wasn't looking forward to the certain argument he was going to have with Olivia when she arrived.  She knew something about him that she was keeping back, he could tell, and he was tired of it.  Was it the same something that Julia was trying to make him believe?  That he was the Quentin who'd scared that poor little girl half to death?  He was still pacing when Olivia and Mr. Nakamura showed up with the policeman who'd brought him back here.</div> <div> She looked mad.  "If I disturbed your beauty sleep, you didn't have to come and get me," he told her irritably.</div> <div> "What and leave my child in jail over night?" she responded tartly.  "What kind of mother would that make me?  By the way, the captain thought I should do just that."</div> <div> "You can still do that, ma'am," the policeman offered helpfully, looking back and forth between them curiously.  Grant laughed shortly.  The man was obviously trying to figure out how they could be mother and son.</div> <div> Olivia grimaced.  "No.  Please let him out."</div> <div> They argued all the way back to Collinsport.  Olivia was furious and humiliated that he'd gone and destroyed his room and then run out on her.  "And then you show up at the High Hat lounge and get into a fight over a-a floozy!  How could you do this to me?"</div> <div> "Why does this conversation always turn to something I've done to you?" he countered resentfully.  They were getting nowhere fast, and he was sure that it was giving Mr. Nakamura a headache to listen to them yell at each other.   Sure enough, as soon as Olivia dismissed him, he scurried off in the opposite direction as quickly as he could.  "What did Julia want?" Grant asked, trying to change the subject.  He'd been up most of the night now, was still drunk, and felt like he was in imminent danger of passing out.</div> <div> "She brought me this!" Olivia answered, still sounding very angry.  She held up a portrait of a very lovely woman in an old fashioned dress.  It could have been Olivia.</div> <div> He wondered if it was.  "Is that you?" he asked.</div> <div> "Tell me what you think," she said.  It seemed very important.  "Look at it!  Is this me or not?"</div> <div> He sighed.  "It looks like you."</div> <div> "It was painted in 1895."</div> <div> "Ohhh, damn it!" He reeled away.  "This is another game you're playing with me, isn't it?  That can't be you, then!  Why did you ask me if I thought it was you?"</div> <div> "Are you sure?" she cried.</div> <div> "Leave me alone," he mumbled, collapsing onto a chair.</div> <div> "Oh!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears.  He was too tired to go after her.  Later, he thought, closing his eyes.</div> <bR> <div> When he woke up, Olivia was gone, and he had a splitting headache.  I need a hair of the dog, he thought, getting up and moving to the bar. "Olivia?" he called.  There was nothing but silence, and he realized she'd gone out.  It was probably better that way.  They'd probably only get into another pointless argument.  He'd poured himself a brandy when the door opened, and he cursed inwardly.  He was sure the fight would start over the fact he was drinking again so early.</div> <div> "It's you!" Julia gasped.</div> <div> He looked over at her, both relieved and amused.  "Amazing powers of observation, Julia," he sneered at her.  "Now that you know it's me, who am I?"</div> <div> Julia's eyes narrowed.  "You weren't in your room all night."</div> <div> How'd she know that?  He began to cross the room and realized that he was weaving a little.  Great.  He also realized she was watching him closely.  "Would you stop staring at me as if I'm some kind of wild animal?"</div> <div> "You're not an animal," she assured him promptly-a little too quickly.  He collapsed in a chair and looked at her suspiciously.  "Whatever it is that happened to you last night wasn't your fault."</div> <div> His mouth opened incredulously.  Why was she so quick to come to his defense?  He looked down at himself, his shirt ripped down one sleeve and the blood of the other guy's nose spattered across his chest.  He wrinkled his nose.  God, I should have changed and taken a shower, too, I stink!  He looked back at Julia, arguing, "Oh, yes, it was.  I never shoulda hit the guy!  He was staring at the lady I was with, though, and I took offense to it!"</div> <div> "What?"  Julia asked, stunned.  "What on earth are you talking about?"</div> <div> He hooted at her.  "What are <I>you</I> talking about?  I'm talking about my little altercation at the High Hat Lounge."</div> <div> "In <I>Portland</I> ?" She sounded as if she didn't believe him.  "You did not go on a date with Olivia Corey to Portland!"</div> <div> "I didn't say I did!" His voice began to rise in anger.  "As if it's any of <I>your</I> business, I hitched a ride there-with a truck driver!  And guess what?  He told me where this little key of mine went-to a locker at the train station.  I had some stuff there.  Then I went to the High Hat Lounge and picked up a whore, got drunk, got into a fight, got arrested, and got bailed out.  End of story!"  He waited to see what she had to say about his appearance and about his behavior.</div> <div> "You might feel better if you took a shower," she commented, looking him up and down.  "That isn't your blood, is it?"</div> <div> "No," he answered shortly, setting the drink down. He didn't want it anymore.  He felt disgusted with himself.  He could remember the sound of the other man's nose making a crunching sound as he hit the guy. "So you don't think I'm some low life jackass?" he asked, almost baiting her.</div> <div> She looked at him steadily.  "No, I don't think that at all.  I suspect  you think it about yourself."  He didn't say anything, brooding.  "Will you tell me what you found in the locker?"</div> <div> He sighed.  "Not a lot." His trenchcoat, a really sorry looking garment now, was thrown carelessly on a chair.  He picked it up and reached into the inner pocket, pulling out a legal sized envelope.  "I did find out something sinister about Frederick Dorn, though.  There was this."  He pulled out the article about Olivia Corey and gave it to Julia.  "She told me I was coming here to see her."</div> <div> "Did she?" Julia said, in a non-committal voice.</div> <div> "That seems to confirm it, I guess," he said.  He gave Julia the other article-the one that had upset him more.  "Read it."</div> <div> Julia unfolded it carefully. It was yellowed and creased with age.  "It's very old."  Her eyes widened as she read it.  He glanced over her shoulder and shuddered; he'd already read it thoroughly twice before heading over to the High Hat to get himself as drunk as he could.  It was from a British newspaper and was dated 1946; it stated that Nazi war criminal Frederick Dorn had escaped without a trace.  It went on to list the crimes for which he'd been convicted. There was a picture.  Julia studied it carefully and then looked at Grant.  "Do you know this man?"</div> <div> "No," Grant said.  "Why do I have that article?"  Julia shook her head helplessly, as if she was unsure what to say.  "According to the birthdate on my license, I was four in 1946.  Why do I have that thing?"  He was becoming agitated.  "Don't stand there shaking your head-I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking I'm that ghost, brought back to life somehow.  Well, how was it done if not by reincarnation?  Are you saying I've been wandering around for almost a hundred years?"  His voice had steadily become louder until he was shouting.  At that point, Olivia came into the room, turning to hand her keys to Mr. Nakamura.</div> <div> "What's going on?" she demanded.  "I could hear you down the hall."</div> <div> "Do you think I'm Quentin Collins, too?" he yelled.</div> <div> "Grant!  That's <I>her </I>theory, not mine!" Olivia exclaimed.</div> <div> To their surprise, he burst into tears.  "I don't want to be him!"  Olivia went to him and put her arms around him, comforting him.  "I frightened that little girl!"</div> <div> Julia started.  "What little girl?"</div> <div> "In the shop yesterday-there was a  little girl there when I went to get the book.  She took one look at me and ran off screaming her head off."</div> <div> "So Amy did see you!" Julia gasped.  "I thought-"</div> <div> Grant interrupted.  "Where is she?  How is she?"</div> <div> "I-I-" Julia was flustered.  "She's all-right."  Grant wanted to see her and make things right.  As if reading his mind, Julia blurted,  "You can't see her."</div> <div> Grant sat down on the sofa as if his knees had been kicked out from under him.  He covered his face with his hands and wept.  "Oh, Julia!" Olivia cried defensively. "How could you say such a thing!  Do you really think you're helping? Look at him!  He's been worse since you've come here!" Julia looked at her mutely, unable to speak.  "I think you'd better go," Olivia said softly.</div> <div> "Olivia," Grant mumbled.</div> <div> "I'm here," she said softly, sitting beside him and putting her arms around him.</div> <div> "I'm sorry." He put his head on her shoulder.  "About last night-about the way I behaved.  I'm sorry."</div> <div> "It's all right," she soothed.  "Listen.  Why don't you take a nice warm shower?  You'll feel better."  She led him into the bathroom.  "We'll go shopping this afternoon.  You need a new coat-and new clothes."  He kissed her gratefully and then began to pull the torn, bloody clothes off.  "Don't take too long and we'll have time for something else as well."  He smiled for the first time in what felt like a long time.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id109.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Stolen Memories"><U>1:  Stolen Memories</U></A>  <A HREF="id111.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Peeling the Onion"><U>3:  Peeling the Onion</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id107.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Alternate Destiny"><U>Alternate Destiny</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> </td> </tr></table></body>