Sometime thereafter, in a reverie, I felt myself in a magical forest
whose lush vines reminded me of Kerala in India. It was a verdant, hazy
paradise, another Eden. A child was with me, a child of my own, and I
felt jubilation. I watched the child as she grew and became a
resplendent orchid.
But with childbearing came pain, and I seemed to be feeling that pain
as I took up the flower and held it, joy flowing through me.
Then Alex Goddard drifted into my dream, still all in white, and he was
gentle and caring as he again moved his hands over me, leaving numbness
in their wake. I thought I heard his voice talking of the miracle that
he would make for me. A miracle baby, a beautiful flower of a child. I
asked him how such a thing would happen. A miracle, he whispered back.
It will be a miracle, just for you. When he said it, the orchid turned
into the silver face of a cat, a vaguely familiar image, smiling
benignly, then transmuted back into a blossom.
Then he drifted out of my dream much as he had come, a wisp of white,
leaving me holding the gorgeous flower against my breasts, which had
begun to swell and spill out milk the color of gold. . . .
A wet coolness washed across my face, and--as I faintly heard the
sounds of Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, Glenn Gould's piano notes crisp
and clear--I opened my eyes to
see Ramala massaging my brow with a damp cloth. She smiled kindly and
lovingly as she saw my eyes open, then widen with astonishment.
"What--?"
"Hey, how're you doing? Don't be alarmed. He's taking great care of
you."
"What. . . where am I?" I lifted my head off the pillow and tried to
look around. I half expected Steve to be there, but of course he wasn't.
"You're here. At Quetzal Manor." She reached and did something and the
music slowly faded away. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. I think the
doctor was trying to release your Chi, and when he did it was too
strong for you."
"What day is it?" I felt completely disoriented my bearings gone.
"Sunday. It's Sunday morning." She reached and touched my brow as
though giving me a blessing. Like, it's okay, really.
At that moment, Alex Goddard strolled in, dressed again in white.
Just as in the dream, I thought.
"So, how's the patient?" He walked over--eyes benign and caring--and
lifted my wrist, absently taking my pulse while he inserted a digital
thermometer in my ear. For a flashback moment he merged into, then
emerged from, my dream. "You're looking fine. I have to say, though,
you had quite a time yesterday."
"All I remember is passing out in your office," I mumbled glancing
around at the gray plastic thermometer. And that strange dream, you
telling me I would have a miracle baby.
"You had an unusual reaction," he went on. "You remember I spoke to you
about mind-body harmony. You see what can happen when I redirect the
flows of energy, Chi, from your body to your mind." He smiled and
settled my wrist back onto the bed. "Don't worry. I have a lot of hope
for you. You're going to do fine."
He looked satisfied as he consulted the thermometer, then jotted down
my temperature on a chart. He's already started a medical record, I
thought. Why?
"I'm . . . I'm wondering if this really is working out," I said. It was
dawning on me that I was getting into Alex Goddard's world a lot deeper
and a lot faster than I'd expected. I'd come planning to be an observer
and now I was the one being observed. That was exactly not how I'd
intended it. Maybe, I thought, if I back off and make a new run, I can
keep us on equal footing. "Perhaps I ought to just go back to the city
for a few days and--"
"I'd assumed you came to begin the program." He looked at me, a quick
sadness flooding his eyes. "You struck me as a person who would follow
through."
"I need to think this over" I really feel terrible, I thought, trying
to rise up. What did he do to me? "Maybe I'm just not right for your
'program'?" The idea of a documentary had momentarily retreated far
into the depths of my mind.
"On the contrary." He smiled. "We've shown that you're very responsive."
"Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm too responsive." I rose and slipped my feet
off the bed. The motion brought a piercing pain in my abdomen. "OUCH!
What's . . ." I felt my pelvis, only to find it was very sensitive.
Pulling aside my bed shift, I gazed in disbelief at my lower abdomen.
There were red spots just above my pale blue panties.
Alex Goddard modestly averted his eyes. "I didn't want to say
anything," he explained to the wall above my head, "but you were in
pretty delicate shape there for a while. Mild convulsions, and I think
your digestive system had gone into shock. The stomach is a center of
energy, because it's constantly active. So I gave you some shots of
muscle relaxant. Nothing serious. It's an unusual treatment, but I've
found it works. It . . . modulates the energy flows. I also took a
blood sample for some tests, but the results were all normal."
He then asked me about my menstrual cycle, exact days, saying he wanted
to make sure it wasn't just routine cramps. "The seizure you had passed
almost as soon as it came, but you might actually have been
hallucinating a bit. You had a slight fever all night."
"Well . . ." Something like that had happened to me years ago in rural
Japan, when I stupidly ate some unwashed greens and my stomach went
into shock. At one point a local doctor, Chinese, was trying
acupuncture, which also left me sore.
"Nothing to be worried about," he continued. "But if you're the least
bit concerned, maybe we ought to do a quick sonogram, take a sound
picture. Ease your mind that everything's okay."
"That doesn't really seem necessary," I said. For a clinic specializing
in "energy flows" and "mind-body" programs, there was a lot of modern
equipment. Odd.
"Won't do a bit of harm." He nodded at Ramala, who also seemed to think
it was a good idea. "Come on, help me walk her down to the lab." He
turned back. "It's totally noninvasive. You'll see for yourself that
you're fine."
Before I could protest, I found myself walking, with some dizziness,
down the hallway. This part of Quetzal Manor, which I had not seen
before, was a sterile, high-tech clinic. I realized I was in a
different building from the old convent, probably the new one I'd
noticed across the parking lot, the one he hadn't bothered to mention
that first day. But all I could focus on were the blue walls and the
new white tiles of the floor.
The sonogram was as he described it, quick and noninvasive. He rubbed
the ultrasound wand over my abdomen, watching the picture on a CRT
screen, which showed my insides, a jumble of organs that he seemed to
find extremely informative.
"Look." He pointed. "Those lines there are your Fallopian tubes, and
that's your uterus." He pushed a button to record a digital image.
"Seems like whatever was upsetting your stomach is gone. Obviously
nothing's wrong here."
"Good," I said, "because I really need to take a few days and think
this over."
"You should stay," he said, reaching to touch my hand. "I think the
worst is well behind us. From here on, we can work together. In fact,
what I actually wish you would do is come with me to my clinic in
Central America. It's truly a place of miracles."
I assumed he was referring to the "special place" he'd mentioned during
our first interview. If Quetzal Manor was on the exotic side, I
thought, what must that place be like? A documentary that took in the
totality of who and what he was could be--
"In fact," he went on, "I just learned I have to be going there later
today. A quick trip to catch up on some things. So this would be an
ideal time for you to come. We could go together."
Well, I thought, I'd love to see what else he's up to, but this whole
scene is getting out of control. When I first met Alex Goddard, we had
a power balance, but now he's definitely calling the shots.
"I don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment yet."
"As you wish." He smiled with understanding. "But let me just say this.
It's not going to be easy, but nothing I've seen so far suggests
there's any physical reason why you can't have a child. We just need to
get you in touch with the energy centers in your body. Rightness flows
from that."
"You really think so?" In spite of myself I felt my hopes rising, even
though I had definite mixed feelings about his kind of "holistic"
medicine.
"I'm virtually certain. But whether you want to continue with the
program or not is a decision you'll have to make for yourself."
"Well, maybe when I'm feeling better we can talk some more about it." I
definitely needed to reconsider my game plan. "For now, I think I'd
better just get my things and--"
"As you wish." He sighed. "Your clothes are in your room. There's a
closet in the corner by the window."