"Ginny—"
"Nobody wants to know us anymore!" Her voice rose steadily in pitch and volume. "It's like we're living in a vacuum. All our friends either have something else to do when I call or don't even bother to return my calls. They think I'm married to a nut! And I can't argue with them!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"It's not just me! Tony may be on your side, but I'm sure he thinks you're coming unwrapped, too!"
"Is that so?" Alan was suddenly angry—with Ginny and Tony for their lack of faith, and with himself for expecting them to accept something as bizarre as his power without seeing it for themselves.
He went to the phone at the bedside. "Okay. If I can prove that I'm not crazy, will you stay?"
"No games, Alan. And no deals."
"Will you give me a chance?"
"I've got a six o'clock flight out of JFK. If you can change my mind by then, fine. But I hope you won't mind if I finish packing."
Six o'clock! That gave him five hours. He didn't know if he could—
He dialed Tony's business number and told him to go next door into his office and take a file marked "Timetable" from his desk, then bring it here to the house. Tony agreed, although he sounded hesitant.
Alan paced the first floor of his home like an expectant father while Ginny labored upstairs with the suitcases. Then a rainsoaked Tony was at the door with the folder. Alan snatched it from him, told him to wait, and took it to his study.
He pored over the figures, dimly aware that Ginny had come downstairs and that she and Tony were exchanging worried glances behind his back. He saw at once his mistake on the day of the board hearing. Again, it was his memory that had failed him—he had been only forty minutes off with his calculation of the arrival of the Hour of Power. Forty minutes! Forty rotten minutes! If the meeting had started an hour later, he would have been golden. Instead…
But he couldn't dwell on that now. Here, with all the figures in black and white in front of him, he couldn't go wrong. He even double-checked on a hand calculator. No doubt:
Today's Hour of Power would start in approximately twenty minutes.
He strode into the living room and waved the car keys in the air.
"Let's go—both of you!"
"Wait a minute—" Ginny began.
"No waiting. I'm going to prove I'm not crazy. Call my bluff and give me an hour. If you're still not convinced, I'll drive you to the airport myself in plenty of time for your six o'clock flight."
Tony looked surprised at the remark about the flight but only said, "I want to see this."
"I don't know…" Ginny said.
Alan and Tony together managed to convince her to come along. Then they were in the car and heading through the rain toward the office. Alan had a fairly clear picture of the route he would take and was reasonably sure he wouldn't get lost. He planned to go to the office, let a few of the people in, and heal them before Ginny and Tony's eyes. Alan knew it would be risking a mob scene, but if he could demonstrate to them that he truly had this power, he would have two firm allies. Maybe if he could anchor himself to them, he wouldn't feel so alone and adrift.
As he slowed for the light at Central and Howe, Clubfoot Annie hobbled out of Leon's Superette. Her usual tattered dress was sheltered under an equally tattered umbrella; a plastic shopping bag hung from her free hand. Alan checked his watch, then slammed on the brakes and leaped out of the car, ignoring the startled noises from Ginny and Tony.
Why go to the office? he thought. Here was someone who really needed healing and wasn't clamoring for it. Someone who had been tearing at his heart for years.
"Miss!" he said as he hopped over a puddle onto the curb. "Can I speak to you a minute?"
She whirled, startled. Her eyes were wide and fearful. "What? I ain't got no money!"
"I know that," Alan said, approaching more cautiously. "I just want to help you."
"Get away. Don't want no help!"
She turned and started to hobble away.
"Miss! I just—"
She hobbled faster, her body jerking left and right like a trip-hammer.
Alan could feel the rain soaking through his shirt, plastering down his hair. But he couldn't let her go. He trotted after her.
"Wait!"
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes full of fear. His heart broke for her. How many times throughout her life had people made fun of her, picked on her, teased her, tormented her, pushed her around, tripped her, just because of that foot?
"I'm not going to harm you!"
And then she tripped. She was looking at him and not at the sidewalk; her foot caught a raised section of walk and she went down in a muddy puddle.
She was crying when Alan reached her.
"Don't hurt me! I ain't got no money!"
"I don't want anything from you. I just want to do this." He grabbed her malformed left foot and ankle and twisted them toward the normal physiologic position. He felt the tingle, the rush, heard her cry out, and then it was over. He took both her hands.
"Stand up."
She looked at him with a puzzled, still-fearful expression, but accepted his help. Her eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when she regained her feet and felt her left sole lie flat against the ground for the first time in her life. She gasped, tested it, then walked in a slow circle, her mouth gaping, utterly speechless. Alan picked up her umbrella and shopping bag and put them back into her hands.
"Take these and get home and get out of those wet clothes."
"Who… who are you?"
"Just someone who wishes he could have been here for you forty or fifty years ago."
He walked back to the car in a cloud of jubilant euphoria. Oh, that had felt good!
Ginny and Tony were staring out the side windows of the car.
Tony's eyes kept darting between Alan and the woman, now walking back and forth on the sidewalk on her normal left foot. "Holy shit, Alan!" he kept saying. "Holy shit!"
Ginny said nothing. She simply stared at him, her face a tight, unreadable mask.
Alan opened the door on her side. "Would you mind driving home, honey? I'm a bit shaky after that."
Actually, he had suddenly realized that he didn't know the way home. But it didn't bother him. He felt too damn good!
Wordlessly, Ginny slid over and put the car in gear.
"Now you know," Alan said as they waved good-bye to Tony from their front steps.
Ginny turned and went into the house.
"I still can't believe it," she said. "I saw it, but…"
"So you can see why I can't come out and say that the stories aren't true."
Ginny dropped onto the couch and sat staring at the far corner of the room.
"God, Alan."
"You can see that, can't you?"
He desperately wanted to hear her agree. She had been so quiet and pensive since his little demonstration at Central and Howe. He hadn't a clue as to what was going on in her mind.
She shook her head. "No," she said. "I can't see that at all. Not only have you got to deny it—you've got to stop using it."
He was stunned. "What?"
"I mean it, Alan." She rose and began to circle the couch, head down, her arms folded in front of her. "It's ruining our life!"
"You mean forget I have it? Ignore it? Pretend it doesn't exist?"
Finally she looked at him, face to face, eyes blazing. "Yes!"
Alan stared at her. "You really mean it, don't you?"
"Of course I do! Look what it's done to you! You can't practice medicine anymore—the hospital won't let you admit patients and you can't get into your office without being mobbed by all the kooks hanging around outside it. Can you imagine what would happen if you publicly admitted that you can cure people? They'd tear you to pieces!"