THE PATIENT IN ROOM 13
THE FUTURE
Monday, January 22nd – 9:00 AM
The office was bright, the morning sun streaming through the windows, warming the room. Sloane sat at her desk, a cup of tea in her hands, looking out at the city below. The voices in her head were quiet, at peace.
“You have done well, Keeper,” Marian said.
“I have done what I could.”
“You have done more than anyone thought possible.”
“There is still so much to do.”
“There will always be more. But you have made a start.”
Sloane looked at the list of names on her desk. Fifty-seven children. Fifty-seven stories. Fifty-seven lives that had been forgotten and now were remembered.
“What will you do now?” Marian asked.
“I will continue. I will keep helping. I will keep remembering.”
“And the next generation?”
“I will teach them. I will train them. I will pass on what I have learned.”
“You are a good teacher.”
“I am learning to be.”
The first patient of the day arrived at 10:00 AM.
Her name was Cora Delaney. Eleanor Cross’s granddaughter. She had been helping Sloane for weeks, uncovering the graves, naming the children, telling their stories.
“Dr. Vance.”
“Please, call me Sloane.”
Cora sat down.
“I want to continue your work. I want to be a Keeper.”
Sloane studied her face.
“You have the gift. You have the passion. You have the commitment.”
“I do.”
“It will not be easy.”
“I know.”
“You will face opposition. People will call you crazy. People will try to stop you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will doubt yourself. You will wonder if you are making a difference.”
“I will keep going.”
Sloane smiled.
“Then I will teach you.”
She spent the morning with Cora, teaching her about the Watcher, about the tree, about the children. She showed her the map, the journals, the key.
“This is your inheritance,” Sloane said. “Your grandmother survived the Watcher. Your grandfather tried to stop it. Now it’s your turn.”
“What do I do?”
“You remember. You remember the children. You remember the families. You remember the stories. You carry them with you, and you pass them on.”
Cora nodded.
“I understand.”
“You will make mistakes. You will fail. You will want to give up. But you won’t. Because the children need you.”
“I won’t give up.”
Sloane reached into her desk drawer.
She pulled out a small box.
Inside, a locket.
The locket of Ruth, the first forgotten child.
“This belonged to the first child. The one who started it all. She gave it to me. Now I give it to you.”
Cora took the locket.
She opened it.
Inside, a photograph.
A child.
A girl.
Ruth.
“Thank you, Dr. Vance.”
“You’re welcome, Cora.”
Cora stood.
She walked to the door.
“Dr. Vance?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be there? When I need you?”
Sloane smiled.
“I’ll always be there.”