An Evening at the Carnival with Mister Christian

He helped her in then pulled away from the terminal, and he was still the only car on the road.

"So, why did I leave?"

"That's a good place to start, I guess."

"More about Rod, I think. I felt guilty about the way we ended, about not going to the services. His family understood, but one of his uncles was bonkers."

"The girl? Sharon? How's she?"

"Sarah. No, well, she's paralyzed. Has some, well, partial use of one arm, but she's incontinent, the works. Poor thing. Bad wreck...a lory hit them broadside, right in the driver's door. Poor Rod."

"You settled the estate, I take it? Are you happy with the way that worked out?"

"I guess. Didn't much care one way the other. How's Deb doing?"

He shook his head. "Going downhill, fast. We have a nurse staying nights now, and my sister arrived this morning."

"Crowded, I take it?"

"Getting that way."

"And here I pop up out of nowhere. Sorry. Should I not have come?"

"She's your friend," he said defensively.

"Oh dear. Have I lost you, too?"

"I'm very tired, been awake for almost two days."

"I didn't hear a 'Gee Liz, sure is good to see you.'"

"You left, Liz. You wrote an obscure note and you left. How do you expect me to feel?"

She crossed her arms and looked out at the fog. "I'm sorry. Perhaps you should just take me back to the airport."

He pulled up the menu on the GPS and hit the airport, and direction prompts began.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he prepared to exit the highway.

"You want to go to the airport. I'm taking you."

"Sumner, I...that's not what I want!"

"Then stop playing games."

She resumed looking out the window. "I'd like to go see Deb now," she said.

"You'll be sharing the forward cabin with Phoebe."

"I see. This is not quite how I expected our meeting to go."

"I see. Well, I was not quite expecting you to leave me. I guess we're even."

They finished the ride in silence, and once he'd parked he opened the boot and looked at her bag. "I'm not sure there's enough room below for this."

"Here, let me have it."

He pulled it out and set it on the pavement, and she took off across the street, heading for a hotel on the corner. He looked at her as she walked off and shook his head, then walked back to the boat. Sophie was in the aft cabin, checking vital signs and writing in her little green notebook, so he went forward and took Charley out for another walk. When she finished, he picked her up and carried her below to his cabin. The nurse was still sitting there, watching Deb sleep.

"How is she?"

"Still sleeping, but with morphine only, I'm afraid." she said. "But there's congestion in the lungs now, and much pain."

"Pneumonia?"

"Too soon to tell, but I've left a call with one of our internists." She looked at him, concern in her eyes. "You look so exhausted. Shouldn't you lay down?"

"Uh-huh." He slipped off his shoes and fell onto the bed, and didn't feel the blanket the girl slipped over his shoulders, or Charley, as she curled up on the pillow beside his head.

+++++

He heard people moving around topsides and did his best to ignore their voices, hoping sleep would come back and carry him away again, then he heard Charley's little claws scampering across overhead and he sat up, looked around the room. The sun was directly overhead, streaming through the overhead hatch and warming the room. His mouth felt stale, like he'd been out for far too long, and his bladder ached.

He went and stood in the shower, brushed his teeth as hot water ran down his neck, then he went to get dressed -- and then noticed Deb wasn't in bed. He found her in the main cabin, playing the piano with Phoebe again.

"Where's Charley?" he asked.

"Your friend Liz has him," Phoebe said, ignoring him but pointing up the companionway.

He went up into the cockpit, looked around the marina and saw them at the far end -- by the river and the office. He jumped across to the grass and walked that way, stopping once when a leg cramp bit into him. Liz and Charley were walking his way by then, and Charley ran to him a moment later and jumped up on his shins. He picked her up and she was licking his face when Liz walked up.

"Feeling better, I hope."

He shook his head. "Too soon to tell, but I still feel like roadkill. How's the hotel?"

"Cheap, clean, not bad for the price."

"I'll go over with you and help move that bag over..."

"I think I'll stay there. It's awfully crowded onboard."

"It is," he said as he started walking back to the boat, yet looking at her carefully. "How was Deb this morning?"

"The piano? I didn't know she played."

"She didn't, not before yesterday, anyway."

"Seriously?"

"Mann said there've been a few other incidents like this, a middle aged woman in New York being the most famous to date. Seems this woman had never played anything before, wasn't even particularly interested in music. She was struck by lightning and a week later was playing at an impossible level, concert skills, and yet two months later she couldn't even remember a note. The gift left almost as quickly as it came."

"Phoebe plays?"

"Phoebe is a concert level pianist, and a teacher. But there's one other feature of this: Deb doesn't think she's Deb any more."

"What?" she said, grinding to a halt.

"Oh, seems her name is Marian Orgeron, a friend of Debussy's, as it turns out."

"Excuse me?"

"It seems our Deb is time traveling, in her sleep anyway. Yesterday she came to us as this Orgeron, but with the extra-added benefit of being a composer, and pianist. Did Phoebe not mention this?"

"No, they've been preoccupied on that piano ever since I got here."

"Ain't that nice. Has Mann been by?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Gee, are we having fun yet?" He picked up Charley and carried her across, then took Liz's hand as she hopped onboard. They went to the companionway, found Deb ripping through a fantastically complex piece, Phoebe recording the performance on her phone; they sat and watched for almost twenty minutes, until Deb collapsed. He rushed below and scooped her up, asked Liz to get the IV stand and then carried her to the aft cabin. He laid her out, covered her with a blanket and sat next to her.

"My head hurts," she moaned, and Collins hit the morphine button, sending another pulse of the stuff coursing into her bloodstream. Thirty seconds later her eyes rolled back and she fell into a deep sleep; he got on the bed and pulled her close as Charley came up and curled up on her chest. He looked up, saw Phoebe standing at the foot of the bed looking down at them, shaking her head.

"Whatever else may be going on here, she is for all intents and purposes Marian Orgeron. She just played the entire piece...from memory. I'm going to upload this and have my friend at Princeton look it over, but my guess is this simply wouldn't be possible any other way. It's just staggering, Sumner, to think what this might mean."

"It doesn't mean a goddamn thing, Phoebe. It's all just a dream within a dream."

"When she woke up this morning, she said something about a carnival. That's she'd been at a carnival during the night. Do you know what she means? Has she mentioned it before?"

"No. Did she say anything else?" -- but he thought about the music out there beyond the cliffs, the calliope playing in the wind.

Phoebe looked away, trying to remember. "No, just a carnival of some sort. She mentioned torchlight, and an ancient looking man, a wizard perhaps. Sounded like she was talking about Merlin and King Arthur and all that nonsense, but then she kept talking about someone named Claude, and there was a Timothy, too."

"Timothy? That's new too. Liz? The blue notebook on the chart table? Could you get that for me, please?"

"Sure..."

He opened it up and wrote the date and time, and all Phoebe's recollections. "Torchlight? And an old wizard? Anything else?"

"Timothy. Did you get that down?"

He kept writing, adding the information about Orgeron and the composition Deb had played, then he closed the book and looked at Phoebe. "What about the nurse? Sophie?"

"Deb was asleep when she left," Phoebe said. "She also said you need rest. What happened, Sumner?"

"I've been tired, and I guess it really hit me last night."

"How do you feel now?"

"Tired. Tired...like I've never felt before. You know, when Deb and I were out on the bluff above Brighton, I know I heard a calliope, one of those steam-powered organ type things."

"Yes, so?" Phoebe said. "What about it?"

"Well, aren't those things associated with carnivals?"

"Yes, that's right, maybe there was one nearby?" Phoebe mused. "So, that might account for the carnival in her dream."

"But what accounts for the calliope?" Liz asked.

"I don't know, but I do know what I heard. I know it wasn't the wind, but..." he chuckled, "that's about all I remember -- then Lennon appeared."

And Mann appeared in the companionway. "So? What has happened now? More piano?"

"Yes. She was exhausted, collapsed when she finished a 20 minute performance."

"Phoebe? Were you able to record it?"

"Yes, from start to finish."

The old man smacked his lips as he came down the steps, then went aft to check on Deborah, and Sumner went with him. "She said her head hurt, so I gave her one click on the IV."

Mann looked over her chart, his head swaying from side to side, his lips smacking as he read. "I have lab results now. Markers are increasing rapidly, Sumner. Just so you know, I'm not sure how much longer we'll be able to keep her comfortable...I'd guess the tumor is now fifty percent larger than it was on diagnosis."

"Geez."

"Have you thought about how you want to handle the situation when morphine no longer works?"

"No, not really."

"Well, my concern is Miss Hill won't be able to make a rational decision when that happens. If you are not prepared to act, let me know so I can assemble the necessary paperwork."

"I'll be prepared to act, doctor."

"My guess would be very soon, perhaps later this week, or even tonight. Okay?" He turned to leave and Collins pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed his eyes, then went over and kissed Deborah on the forehead.

"Don't worry about it, Sumner," he heard her say. "Just accept what comes."

She had repeated Lennon's last words to him almost exactly, and he was stunned -- again. "John? Did you see him?"

She smiled. "I was with you then, by the river."

"What? When?"

"That night. When you sat by the river. I was with you."

"I didn't see you."

"It's hard to describe. But don't be afraid, Sumner. Not about what's going to happen next."

"Do you want to play the piano some more?"

"What? I don't play the piano..."

"Oh. Well, can you tell me about the carnival?"

"No, I have no idea what it is. I haven't been there yet. Have you?"

"No, my love. How's the pain?"

"Not too bad right now. I was thinking of baking something. Do we have cherries?"

"Of course."

She smiled. "I should have known. Help me up, would you?"

He hooked her catheter to the IV stand, then helped her stand. Once in the galley, Liz came over and together they started baking. The boat filled once again with the smells of Deb's favorite recipes, leaving Sumner and Phoebe to drift along with new memories in the making.

"You know what this dump needs?" she finally said to her brother.

"A Christmas tree."

"You got it, Chuck."

"I'll go get Snoopy," he said with a smile, and they took off into the afternoon, finally finding a small tree a few blocks away. A nearby shop had lights and ornaments, and they carried the tree back to the boat and set it up on the chart table. He rigged the lights and each of them hung one ornament, leaving any more to be placed by guests, then he dimmed the cabin lights. Deborah sat in the glow of the little tree until Sophie arrived, then she went aft with the nurse, leaving the three of them in the eye of the hurricane.

"She doesn't remember playing the piano," he said, suddenly remembering their conversation earlier that afternoon.

"A minor miracle I recorded it, I suppose."

"No recall? None at all?" Liz asked. "It's like one person's memory superimposed over another's, like the layers of an onion."

"You know," Collins mused, "to us these personalities must seem randomly imposed, but I wonder? I wonder what the relationship is, if any?"

"You're assuming there is a relationship," Phoebe said. And, you're also assuming the other personality is a real manifestation"

"Well, how do you account for this Orgeron thing?"

"I can't," Phoebe said, "but that doesn't mean I have to buy into some supernatural force manipulating these events, or that there's some purpose to all this."

Liz shook her head. "I don't know, Phoebe. How else can you explain..."

"I can't, but that doesn't mean there's not an explanation."

"Liz?" Sumner asked. "Are those scones cool enough to try yet?"

"I'll check. Coffee? With rum, perhaps?"

"That sounds good."

"Phoebe?"

"Please."

She came back a minute later with a plate of scones, and Phoebe went to help with the rum. They sat for a while and then watched Phoebe's recording of Deb playing, then they thought about the more mundane implications of the event.

"I posted the recording to YouTube, sent a link to my buddy at Princeton. He knows some of the story; can't wait to hear what he has to say after he watches it."

"Other than to refer you to a good shrink, you mean?"

"Precisely."

"And suppose it goes viral? You know, proof of life after death, all that nonsense?"

"Or it might simply be regarded as a prank. That's usually the case with things of this nature."

Sophie came back and sat with them then, and Phoebe asked if she was familiar with her great-grandmother's work.

"Some, yes. My mother played the piano, but not good enough to play works of that force."

"How about you? Do you play?"

"A little, yes."

"Well, watch this." Phoebe cued up the video and played it again; Sophia watched and grew increasingly agitated.

"Where did you get this music?"

"Deb played it from memory, with one little wrinkle. She claimed at the time she was Marian Orgeron."

"What!?"

"She played this today, yet a few hours ago she had no memory of the event."

"This is not possible!"

"Shall I play it for you again?"

"No! This is some sort of obscene forgery!"

"Well," Sumner said, "there's the answer to that question."

"What question?!" Sophie asked, now quite angry.

"We all witnessed this, Sophie," Phoebe said. "There's no trick, no forgery. Even Dr Mann watched some of this yesterday."

The girl sat down and shook her head. "This can't be? It's insane..."

"Oh, I agree completely," Sumner said, "yet here we are, confronted with evidence of insanity all around this boat..."

"That woman," she said, pointing, "claims to be my great-grandmother? That's just not right!"

"Well, no one knew you were coming yesterday, Sophie, when she claimed to be Ms Orgeron."

Liz looked excited then. "But she knew, didn't she. Deb must have known, on some level. She had to, right?"

"Why?" Phoebe asked. "There's no logical train of cause and effect..."

"Well, why else would Sophie show up?"

"I don't follow," Sumner said.

"You lost me..." Phoebe said.

"Well, somehow, someway, Deb must be connected to Orgeron, this Marian Orgeron, and as a result something manipulated Sophie into coming here."

"I was assigned this case when I arrived at work yesterday, late in the afternoon."

"And Deborah was...it all started when I brought that piano onboard. That was around two, wasn't it?"

"Close to it, yeah," Phoebe said.

Sophie cleared her throat. "You think this is possible, do you? This cause and effect between the piano and my great-grandmother emerging?"

"We're only telling you what we've seen and heard, Sophie. There's no proof, no logic..."

"Unbelievable is the word," Phoebe added, "but, Sophie, maybe you could help us understand what's going on."

"Me?"

"It's too late now," Sumner said. "She's...Marian...is gone now..."

"That doesn't mean she won't be back," Liz said, hopefully.

"Sophie? Just be aware unusual things like this are happening. When you're with her, take note of anything unusual."

"Yes, the doctor has already asked me to record our conversations. You propose I ask who she is, where she has been?"

Sumner and Phoebe both nodded their heads, and he added: "Exactly. And let us know, so we can follow up."

"Simple enough," the nurse said, then she sat and began writing up her notes.

"Dinner?" Phoebe asked. "Anyone besides me hungry?"

"I am," Liz added, and Sumner nodded his head.

"I saw an interesting place up the street, beyond the hotel..."

Sophie looked up and shook her head. "Dreadful. Go to this place," she said, handing her a piece of paper with a name and address on it. "The atmosphere is impressive, and the food is interesting, too."

"Okay," Phoebe said. "Can we bring you something back?"

"Anything with, uh, yes, avocados. I can't get enough of them!"

"We can do that," Sumner said. "Better grab a coat...it's getting cold outside now." He ran Charley up for a quick piddle then back below, then they took off into the night.

"These blocks are really short," Liz said. "How many did she say to go?"

"Ah, there it is," Sumner said, just as a snowflake landed on his forehead.

The restaurant looked somewhat like a Mayan ruin in the middle of a rain forest and he shook his head when he looked over the menu. "Mexican food. That figures. Come to Paris, have a taco."

They were led to a table by a small waterfall, and canned jungle sounds filled the air.

"Well, this is surreal," Phoebe said, her eyes looking around the place.

"It sure ain't Taco Bell..." he said as he opened the menu. "I wonder what 'enchilada' is in French?"

Liz laughed. "Well, at least guacamole is the same in any language."

They ordered, laughed at the typically Parisian micro-portions that arrived and enjoyed too many potent margaritas while they talked. "You know," Phoebe said, "I was thinking, about this place. How would someone from Mexico City, or even a little Tarahumara village react if transported here overnight. Would they see this as a joke, as some sort of parody of their lives?"

"What would Marian Orgeron think of this Paris? Today's Paris?" Liz asked.

"My guess is she'd want to go back," Sumner said, then he fell away, almost into a whisper..."Go back...go back..."

"What is it, Sumner?" Phoebe asked.

"I don't know. Something...something about going back."

"Back where?" Liz said. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know..." he sighed. "It was like I caught a fragment of a thought, just out of reach...passing by on the air..."

"What? Sumner? What are you seeing?"

He shook his head gently, slowly. "An idea."

"An idea? Such as?" Phoebe asked.

"I don't know. It's time to go, I think."

Phoebe looked at Liz and they shrugged at one another. "Okay. Let's go."

He seemed increasingly distracted, almost lost when they got out to the street, and he looked away from the river, from the Gemini; he walked up to a cross street and then down an alley. He stopped and looked around, like he was looking for something, or someone...then he took off further into the alley.

It was dark here, and snow was beginning to drift in corners, build on trash cans, but he stopped at a shadow between two industrial-sized waste dumpsters, then knelt down.

There was an old man sitting there, covered in trash bags, sitting on a pile a newspapers. When Phoebe got there she stopped and stepped back, not sure if the old man was alive or dead.