“I don’t know if it’s worse to have seen it happen gradually or to see it all at once,” David said, rubbing her back as they settled into one of the pews in the small room.
“The first time Grandma didn’t know who I was, I think I cried for two days.” Aimee offered both women a pack of tissues she’d pulled from her purse, after taking one for herself.
Julie took the tissues and gave Catherine one, wiping away a few tears of her own.
“Does she know?” Catherine asked. “Does she ever understand what’s happened to her?”
“Not anymore,” Julie said. “It was hard when she started getting bad. You’d see moments where she realized what was happening, and she’d get so frustrated and scared. Now… she’s in her own little world most of the time.”
A world where Catherine was dead. And maybe it was better that way for her. She’d grieved and moved on. A world without Catherine was a more settled world. Not just for Nora. Coming back the way she had had turned all her relationships messy and painful and fraught.
“I’m still glad I got to see her.” Catherine steadied her breathing and kept it from hitching. “I think I needed to. Do the doctors— what do they say?”
Julie shook her head. “They can’t give a firm time frame, but she’s withdrawing. She’ll keep getting quieter and more still, they say. A few months, maybe less.” She sighed. “I didn’t want you to miss out on what might be some of the last days that she’s talkative.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said. It was heartfelt, and she hugged Julie tight. “And she knew me for a minute or so at least. Maybe part of her will still remember that.”
The sisters held on to each other for a long time, until Catherine had her composure back.
“Come on,” Julie said. “Let’s get home.”
15
CATHERINE RETURNED HOME from Chicago with a new sense of peace and purpose. Nora might not have been able to give her the sense of self she’d hoped for, but she’d been the last piece of the puzzle, the one part of her old life she hadn’t come to terms with. Nora’s death would be painful, but Catherine could tell herself that Nora knew, somewhere in her mind, that Catherine was still alive. With that as resolved as was possible, Catherine was able to throw herself back into work, the last few days before the launch.
Leah Morrison sat in Catherine’s office, leaning forward with the expression of someone relishing the “no shit, there I was” story she was in the middle of telling. “So then, we finally get the poor bastard back down to the ground and he’s got the shakes; he’s so sick his hands are turning green, but we’re supposed to shake his hand and tell him what a great job he did, because you know, he’s on the Appropriations Committee, right?”
Catherine laughed and nodded. Dealing with politicians had been the worst. “How bad was it?”
“Girl, he took off that helmet and his lunch went everywhere.”
“He threw up right there in front of you?”
“No!” Leah sat back, cackling. “He already had. Sometime while we were flying!”
“You mean he sat there and—”
“Yes!”
Catherine winced but couldn’t stop laughing. “How the hell did he manage that without you hearing him?”
“I don’t know, but the inside of that helmet was just wrecked, man.” Leah grinned at Catherine. “I’ll tell you one thing, that was the last time the captain volunteered us to take a civilian on a test run.”
“So something good came out of it at least.” Catherine saluted Leah with her coffee cup, marveling at how normal it felt.
A knock at her office door put an end to all that.
Cal Morganson stood there with a bland smile. “Sorry to interrupt the pilot bonding time. Leah, can I speak to Catherine?”
Leah stood up. “I’ve got a briefing I’ve got to get to. Wells, I’ll call you later this week, all right?”
“You bet.” Catherine smiled and stood as well.
Once Leah was gone, Catherine expected Cal to ask her to follow him somewhere, but instead he surprised her by closing her door.
“Can I sit?” he asked.
She motioned to the chair Leah had just vacated, and sat back down herself. “What can I do for you?”
“I have some updates to the launch schedule, and I wanted to make sure you saw them.” He offered her a piece of paper—a memo she’d already seen earlier that morning.
“I saw it,” she said, putting the paper on her desk. “Was there something in particular I needed to pay attention to?”
“No. I just know you were out for a few days.” Cal paused awkwardly, and Catherine watched him carefully. Where was the ambush? Which direction would it come from?
“Yeah. Family issue.” Get to the point already.
“Listen, Catherine, I wanted to apologize. I was… out of line before. I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“No, of course not. I know you’re just doing your job.” Cal thought she’d killed five of her closest friends or God knew what else, but sure, there were no hard feelings. Catherine kept the smile on her face. He wasn’t going to see a thing from her, not if she could help it.
“I’ve been, uh, overzealous before. And it seems as if I was here, too. That’s really all I wanted to say.”
Catherine had no idea how to respond, so she just kept smiling. “Don’t worry about it,” she finally managed.
“I should go, but… thanks.”
She watched him leave, and leaned back in her chair. His apology unsettled her almost more than his accusations did. It wasn’t that it felt insincere, necessarily. Cal had sounded like a kid who’d been told to apologize to his sister. Not insincere, but also not entirely willing.
Which meant that he’d been talking to some higher-ups about his concern. Aaron, most likely. The thought was a tight hand around her heart. Cal had seen some of her lost time, some of her strangest behavior. How much had he told Aaron?
Aaron must not be interested in pursuing it or he wouldn’t have pulled Cal back, but still. How much did NASA know? How long before her house of cards toppled?
Catherine took several deep breaths. Things were fine. She was much better now, moving forward. She hadn’t lost any time since the night of Aimee’s graduation party. Dr. Darzi had been right—since she’d started focusing more on the present, things had improved. She could deal with a bit of NASA gossip.
She picked up the memo Cal had brought her—now certain it was just a ruse to speak to her—and looked it over again. All she could do now was her job, to the best of her ability. She resolved to do just that. She closed her eyes for just a moment, and when she opened them…
… she was standing in the middle of a room she didn’t recognize. She was at a computer, a collection of files open on the screen. The clock on the screen told her it had been nearly two hours since she’d talked to Cal in her office.
Catherine’s breath caught and her pulse spiked. No. No.
It had happened again.
She was almost afraid to look around, to discover where she’d gone this time. The room was small and dim, and there were rows and rows of file cabinets and shelves lining the walls. Microfiche storage boxes filled the shelves.
The archives. It had to be.
But why? She looked at the documents open on the screen in hopes of finding an answer, but all she saw was page after page of old emergency protocols and procedures, most of them outdated.