Chapter 2: Blessed Are You

Brain Scan

“I didn’t really expect that we’d find anything,” Dr. Poltanys sighed as he pointed out the topography of Gee’s brain to him. “There are no signs of brain trauma. Frankly, you are a picture of both mental and physical health. Any new memories that have cropped up?”

“I remembered walking into town from the north and seeing that bar out on the edge of town, the Pub & Grub,” Gee said. “I remember feeling disoriented and thirsty, but the pub was closed. I don’t remember a lot of what I saw as I walked through town. Houses, I guess. A library. The next clear thing was the falls. I wanted water and didn’t feel like I could move. Then Marian, little Devon’s mother, screamed and I ran to see what was happening. I guess we’ve covered everything else.”

“Okay. Let’s count that as a slight expansion. And you mentioned an inscription in the book, but it didn’t trigger a real memory. Try to be aware of images that flash through your mind. Don’t focus on words or what you think of as memories. Just things that seem to be automatic for you and any images that appear. I see you shaved. Ellie told me you use a straight razor. Any problems?”

“None. I was thinking that tap water was never hot enough.”

“Hmm. How would you get it hotter?”

“I suppose I’d put a wet towel in a microwave.”

“That’s good. Something inside has told you how to get your beard softened. Our physical bodies are often triggers for memories. Things that smell familiar. Favorite songs. Whatever feels familiar,” Poltanys said.

“I’ll try to stay aware. It seems simple enough. Could I ask one more thing?”

“Sure.”

“Is it important?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is hard to explain. I know I must have had a life before Rosebud Falls. I’m thirty-four years old. But, I don’t feel like I’ve really lost anything. I’ll stay aware because everyone seems to think it’s important, but I don’t feel incomplete. Does that make sense?” Gee asked. Poltanys looked puzzled.

“I’ll have to do some reading about this. Most of our scientific studies have been about disease-related memory loss. Sundowner’s syndrome, Alzheimer’s ... that sort of thing. There aren’t really that many cases of trauma-induced memory loss. Most of what people know about it is speculative or outright fiction. Looking at it from this side of the equation, we think how terrible it would be to lose our memories and how much we’d miss them. But maybe from your side it doesn’t seem so bad because you don’t know what you’re missing. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“I’m going to release you. I understand you’ll be staying at the Panzas’ house. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if there are any developments or if you experience discomfort. Give us a call in ten days and Ellie will take the stitches out.”

“Um ... How do I pay? I don’t have any money, but Nathan says I’ll have a job next week. I can bring some money when I get paid.”

“I’d say not to worry about it, but you seem to be the type who would. We’re a non-profit hospital, funded by various charities and grants. We charge for services, but when we have treatments that can’t be paid for, we have funds to cover them. If you want to pay for your treatment and last night’s room, do some volunteer work. We can always use help. Until then, live your life.” Poltanys scratched something on his clipboard and looked back at Gee. “If you have a headache from the blow, take an aspirin. I’m not prescribing any painkillers. Go.”

“I’m so glad there are no other problems, Gee,” Marian said after she met him in the hospital lobby. “I’m sure you’ll recover your memory soon. In the meantime, let’s get you home and settled in your new room.”

“Thank you, Marian,” Gee answered as he took a squirming Devon from her arms.

“Gee!” said the little boy.

“Dee!” he responded. “Let’s get you in your car seat, little buddy.”

“I some buddy!”

“You sure are.” Gee finished stowing his pack and fastening the seatbelt on Devon’s car seat before sliding into the passenger seat of the Prius. Marian stopped to check Devon’s belts before she started the car.

“You did that like an old pro,” Marian said. “Do you have children?”

“I wish,” he laughed. A puzzled look crossed his face. “That’s like one of the things Dr. Poltanys said to watch out for. I knew how to buckle a child into his seat, but my automatic response to you was that I wished I had children. That tells me I don’t. I wonder why. Children are important.”

“Maybe you were a teacher.”

“Hmm. Say, do you mind if we stop by the police station? I promised Detective Oliver that I’d come in after the hospital to get fingerprinted and photographed. He’s going to see if he can find me,” Gee said.

“We can do that. Doesn’t it make you nervous?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Most people try to keep their fingerprints out of public records. They feel the less the government knows about them, the better. Here you are and no one knows anything about you and you are willing to be fingerprinted, photographed, and have your information put through all the government databases.”

“I didn’t even consider that. Here’s what I think. I’m a stranger that you invited into your home. If I was some kind of criminal, would you still be comfortable with me living with you? Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“You’re doing this for us?”

“For everyone. I ... It’s funny. Maybe I should care about staying hidden, but I don’t. Today, I feel blessed. I have new friends. I have a new home. I have...” he almost said a girlfriend but he could scarcely claim his instant infatuation with Karen Weisman put her in that category. They hardly knew each other. “I have possibilities. I don’t care who I used to be.”

“Then for everyone’s peace of mind, let’s get you fingerprinted.”

Printed

“Thank you for coming in, Gee. Sorry about the mugshot. I know it looks like you are a criminal,” Detective Oliver said. “The height background helps to refine a match, but most of the actual work is done by facial recognition software these days. It’s a long time since we had to sit a person down with a book of mugshots to try to get them to identify a perp.”

“I don’t mind. I know everyone will rest easier if they know who I am.”

“Then there is one more thing we can do, but you need to sign a release in order for me to take and submit a sample.”

“What’s that?”

“We can run a DNA test against CODIS, the US national DNA database. It will turn up any match to a known criminal. If there are no matches, the DNA is destroyed.”

“Let’s do it. Do you need my blood?”

“No. It’s called a buccal smear. Basically, I use a cotton swab to wipe the inside of your cheek, drop it in a sterile container and ship it to the lab. There are about ten million samples on file in CODIS, but they are all of convicted or suspected criminals.”

“If nothing else, it would eliminate ten million possible people I could be,” Gee laughed.

“I’ll ask you again, Mrs. Panza. Are you sure you want to do this?” Detective Oliver said. “You’ve got a kind heart, but we don’t know anything about the man you are inviting into your home.”

“Yes, we do,” Marian responded. “We have twenty-four hours of evidence that he is a good man, selfless, and a keeper of promises. He didn’t have to come in to get fingerprinted, photographed, and DNA tested like a common criminal. He did it because he told you he would. And because he believes that if he is a danger to anyone, we should be told.”

“Okay. I’ll buy that. George Edward Evars, in care of Nathan Panza, 683 Joshua Street. You now have an address.” The detective stood and pulled Gee with him a few steps away from Marian. The left corner of his mouth pulled back slightly and he squinted. “Let me tell you, son,” he growled quietly, “if you betray the trust of these people or harm them in any way, I will hunt you down like a rabid dog. I’m watching you.”

“You have my word, Detective.”

Mead Oliver watched Gee leave with Marian and reached for the phone.

“He’s on his way to the Panza house. There’s still no sign that he’s a danger to anyone,” Mead said.

“I’m not as worried about him being a danger to any particular person as I am that he’s a danger to the City. Until I meet him myself, I need your eyes, Mead. Follow them and just make sure you can respond in an emergency for the next hour or so. My gut tells me it will be a boring hour.”

“As you wish. I’m on my way.

The attic room was partitioned with a door that separated it from the stairway. He could stand up straight in the center of the room, but the ceiling sloped down on either side. Against one wall, a mattress and box springs sat on the floor, neatly made up with a bedspread and matching pillow covers. A table and chair claimed the space under the window at the end of the room and the bureau against the left wall was almost as tall as the half wall itself. Braided rugs were tossed casually around the room on the pine floorboards.

“It’s not much, but I hope you will be comfortable. I’m afraid there’s no lock on the door, but I promise no one will come up here without your permission. I have a baby gate that latches across the bottom of the stairs so Devon can’t start climbing. Don’t trip over it when you come down the stairs. Especially at night.” Marian bounced Devon on her hip, not letting him down to run around the room.

“It’s really lovely. Thank you, Marian.”

“When you’re settled, come down and we’ll have some lunch. Nothing fancy, just a sandwich and soup. Devon is going to get testy if I don’t get him fed.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Marian hit the speed dial on her phone as soon as she set Devon down at the foot of the stairs.

“No problems, honey,” she said cheerfully when Nathan answered the phone. “Gee was fingerprinted and submitted DNA for testing. He’s putting his things away upstairs and I’m preparing some soup and sandwiches. Devon adores him.”

“I worry about you,” Nathan answered. “I’m all in favor of helping the guy out, but he makes me nervous. Don’t ... you know ... get in any compromising positions, okay?”

“Nathan, honey, there isn’t even the slightest spark between us. Not on either part. He’ll be like a brother to us both. Or maybe a visiting cousin,” Marian assured her husband.

“I love you,” Nathan said.

“I love you, too. And so does Devon. I’ll have a nice dinner ready when you get home this evening.”

After she disconnected, Marian went about the task of getting lunch. She wished Nathan wasn’t so insecure, but at the same time she was soothing her own doubts about having the strange man living in her attic.

It was so easy to trust him.

One Eye on Main

Gee skipped down the front steps of the Panza house after an early lunch, intent on exploring his new ‘hometown.’ Within a block, sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck as the July temperature rose into the eighties. A quick three-block walk took him to Main Street.

Main Street, USA. It was almost a cliché. Businesses lined the east side of the street while the west side had just enough room between the street and the railroad tracks for the post office and old depot. The stores and businesses shared common walls between them, but each business was painted a different color. Names on the upper façade declared enterprises founded in the 1800s. The store windows seldom bore the same name.

He stopped to pick up a newspaper just outside the office of The Elmont Mirror, and glanced through the window, hoping to see Karen, He did, but when he saw the expression on her face as she apparently argued with an older man in the office, he moved on without interrupting her day.

Music filled the street outside the local radio station. He looked through the window, directly at the broadcaster sitting behind his desk and microphone. The man waved a friendly salute and Gee returned the gesture. He stepped back toward the curb to get a better look at the broadcast studio.

“WRZF Radio, Rosebud Falls,” read the lettering on the window. At the bottom of the window, Gee read aloud, “With One Eye on Main.” Next to the door was a picture of the announcer and broadcast schedule. The door of the station opened and the broadcaster stepped into the street.

“Hi. Don’t recognize you,” he said. “I’m Troy Cavanaugh. I broadcast the morning show and get out of there as soon as my shift is over.” Gee glanced back at the window to see a young woman settle in behind the microphone and position her headset. She smiled and waved. Apparently, that was standard for the broadcasters who did their shows directly in the public eye.

“Uh ... Gee.”

“Don’t be awed. I’m just like everyone else,” Troy said as he held out his hand.

“Oh. Sorry. My name ... is Gee.”

“Really? Very interesting. Oh! Wait.” He took the newspaper from Gee’s hand and looked at the front-page article about the daring rescue. A grainy photo, probably taken on someone’s cellphone, showed a man diving off the Fairview Bridge. “That’s you, isn’t it!”

“I ... uh ... I guess so.”

“You need to come in for a live interview. Can you stop in tomorrow morning? You’re more of a celebrity than I am,” he laughed.

“Not really. I just...”

“I’ll bet Karen wrote this and that slime editor dropped her byline. By nightfall he’ll have convinced half the town that he was the one who saw you, took the photo, and wrote the story. He’ll get his eventually,” Troy said. “I’m heading down to Jitterz. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

“That would be great,” Gee answered. “I’m just trying to get acquainted with the town a little.”

“Well, next door to the station here is Citizens Bank, the oldest of our financial institutions. Are you staying in town long?” Troy asked.

“I guess. I live here now.”

“Well, not that I’d ever say this on the air, but rather than bank here, I’d go a block over to First Rose Valley Bank. It’s locally owned and operated. Karl Nussbaum is a good guy and a member of one of the Families. You’ll learn all about the seven Families, I’m sure. His daughter, Krystal, is an absolute knockout. Former Miss Teen Elmont County and first runner-up in the state competition. If she could sing as well as her cousin, she’d have won,” Troy said as they headed south on Main. He seemed quite happy to pass on tidbits of town history and local gossip.

“This is where to come for a great cup of coffee,” Troy said as they approached the complex of shops south of Fourth Avenue. An ice cream shop on the corner connected inside to a lounge with lots of tables where people sat with laptop computers. Large ceiling fans gently stirred the air. The heavenly smell of roasting coffee led them on into Jitterz, the coffee shop and bakery. Beyond, Gee could hear the sounds of an arcade.

“Give us a couple short Americanos, please, Elaine,” Troy said. “Do you need room for cream, Gee?”

“No. Just black.” The response was automatic and an alert went off in his head. I like black coffee. Dr. Poltanys had told him to investigate things that came automatically. His taste buds came alive with the thought of black coffee. He sighed.

“Our coffee isn’t that bad,” the barista said, handing Gee a cup. “You don’t need to be so mournful about it.”

“Oh! Sorry! I was thinking about something else. I’m sure your coffee is just fine.”

“Gee, this is Elaine Nussbaum. She will never forget what you drink. Elaine, Gee is the guy who jumped off the bridge to save that kid yesterday.” Elaine was pleasant enough. She was a bit overweight and spoke softly, but there was a musicality in her voice that belied her looks. “Elaine is one-fourth of the Nussbaum Quartet,” Troy continued. “She has the voice of an angel.”

“No, I’m still not going to sleep with you, Troy,” Elaine giggled.

“That you could think such a thing of me,” he laughed placing a hand over his heart. “Take care of yourself, Angel.” They found comfy chairs in the lounge and Troy watched Gee take his first sip. Gee’s brows went up in surprise. He curiously took another sip and his expression changed again—this time to utter bliss.

“This is amazing.”

“I love watching a person’s face the first time they try Birdie’s coffee,” Troy laughed.

“Birdie?”

“Birdie Lanahan owns Jitterz. And all the other shops in this little complex. Don’t let the name fool you. She’s black as coal and claims to be from Jamaica, mon. But she talks like an Irishman. She got that from her husband, Red. She tells everyone that the coffee is Jamaican, too, but I doubt that as much as I doubt her origins. I’d guess Haiti based on her reputation for voodoo,” Troy said conspiratorially.

“The flavor is incredible. If it’s not Blue Mountain, she must have a secret of some sort.”

“It’s the roasting. Birdie has an old wood-fired roaster that she feeds with our local Rose Hickory. In addition to the flavor of the dark roasted coffee, you get the smoky flavor of our number one resource.”

“The hickory?”

“Yes. A third of our town is covered by the Forest. If you haven’t been out to it yet—and since you’ve been in town only a day, I’d guess you haven’t—you need to make a trip out there. Wood for smoking and roasting is strictly allocated by the foresters. Birdie gets her share,” Troy said.

“That’s amazing. And the coffee is great!”

Human Resources

Friday, Gee rose early to walk to work with Nathan. Halfway there, they stopped for a cup of Birdie’s coffee, then crossed the river at the southern bridge. South Main was more industrial than the business district.

As far as supermarkets go, Grimm’s was a step above most family stores and perhaps a step below the big chains. It had long been their policy to handle only food and kitchen supplies. People didn’t go to Grimm’s for greeting cards and magazines, but rather for fresh-cut meat and produce.

Nathan led Gee through the store to a stairway at the back. “Rupert is kind of an old-world butcher. He doesn’t want anything on the main floor that isn’t food related. You should have seen the arguments when we added toilet paper and facial tissue to the paper goods aisle,” Nathan laughed. “So, the offices are located up here above the stock room, refrigeration, and receiving. This office is Frieda Grimm’s. In case you didn’t catch it when we were talking at dinner last night, Frieda and Rupert are Marian’s parents—my in-laws. If anything, their divorce clarified the roles within the store. Frieda is CEO and handles all the administrative details, including new hires. I manage the operations below.”

“What about Rupert?”

“He’s the butcher. Much happier slicing meat than he is thinking about how to run a grocery store.” Nathan opened the office door and Gee met an imposing woman he guessed to be in her early fifties. “Frieda, I’d like to introduce George Evars. He prefers to be called Gee. This is the guy who saved Devon’s life Wednesday. He needs a job and I need help with stock downstairs.”

“Of course you do,” Frieda sighed. “Welcome to Grimm’s, Gee. Have a seat and let’s get you ready to work. We’ll be less than an hour, Nathan. Clock him in now.”

“Thank you, Frieda,” Nathan said as he backed out. He acted just a little afraid of his mother-in-law.

“Mrs. Grimm...”

“We’re informal here, so I’m just Frieda. Let’s get the application filled out.” She pushed a form toward him and he quickly filled out two lines before pushing it back. She looked a question at him. “Your name and my daughter’s address. What about job experience? Social Security number?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Identification?”

“I don’t have any.”

Frieda contemplated how to handle this with one hand against the side of her head and her eyes closed.

“Bank account?” she asked. Like every other question, Gee just shook his head. If it weren’t for the fact that he saved her grandson’s life, she’d send him on his way, maybe with lunch from the deli. Maybe not.

It wasn’t difficult to hire an undocumented worker for a day or two, pay them cash and bury the expense. Even before she took over the business side of the operation, Rupert had often enough done that with high school kids and transients. But to have one on the long-term payroll was a special kind of problem.

Her husband and high school students. Frieda shuddered as she glanced out at the front of the store and saw Onyx Grimm walk in. To be fair, Onyx was out of college when she made her play for Rupert. He’d been clueless and easy prey. The horny old goat.

At least I don’t have to put up with that anymore.

Still, she missed some of the good things. They were just so long ago.

Frieda tapped her little finger against her forehead, returning to the matter at hand.

“Okay, here’s how we’ll do this,” Frieda said, getting another form from her drawer. “This is a Form I-9. All official documents from the Immigration office say that a business is only audited if it is near a nuclear or national security site, or if the employer is suspected of abusing undocumented workers. The truth is that it’s easy money for the government, so they routinely investigate small businesses just to collect a hundred to a thousand dollars per illegal employee. Then they run the scam again the next year. It’s pretty much like a protection racket.”

“Perhaps I should just work odd jobs around town,” Gee said. “I don’t want to put you at risk. That’s certainly not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

“I guess I’m only one of several people who want to know that.”

“Well, odd jobs won’t keep you off the police blotter. Fill out the I-9 first page. Name, address, and birthdate. The second page is where I’m supposed to examine your proof of eligibility to work. What I’m going to do is make a note here saying, ‘Identity documents withheld pending police investigation.’ You need to visit Detective Oliver and get a copy of his investigation report so I can attach it to the I-9.”

“I can do that. Detective Oliver has been very helpful.”

“I don’t expect there to be any problem with authorities. Rosebud Falls is a ... very tight community. You arrived and became a hero. As long as you don’t mess that up, the whole town will do its best to protect you. However, if you do mess it up, the least of your problems will have to do with the government of the United States.”

“Frieda, I don’t know who I really am, but I know I’m not the kind of person who will intentionally cause harm to this town or anyone in it.”

“Good. You’ll be paid seven-fifty an hour to start. I’ll withhold taxes based on zero deductions, including withholding Social Security and Medicare payments. I will also deduct and escrow a portion of your pay, up to one thousand dollars total over the coming year, to pay any fine levied by ICE. You can expect take-home pay of about two hundred fifty dollars per week and I’ll cash your paychecks since you don’t have a bank account. We pay on Fridays for work done on Friday through Thursday. Nathan will show you how to clock in and clock out. Welcome to Grimm’s Market and Meats.”