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"That sounds familiar," she told Dr. Simons.

"I have to get back to start a session very soon, but I'll be glad to see you before you leave. You can take lunch with Karen if you like." She glanced at her watch. "We serve in about an hour."

"Thank you," Aunt Zipporah said.

"Let me show you the way. We'll go through the coiTidor to a side door."

She started back toward the door from which she had emerged, and we followed.

"How many patients do you have here?" Aunt Zipporah asked.

"It varies, of course, but right now we have twelve. However, none has been here as long as Karen has," she added, pausing at the door. "But I take it you know that."

"Yes, of course," Aunt Zipporah said.

"She's a delightful young woman. I don't think there's a mean bone in her body." She leaned toward us. "Can't say that for everyone here."

"Is there anything we should or shouldn't say?" Aunt Zipporah asked.

"Well, I would prefer you didn't discuss the events that brought Karen here."

"There's no chance she would bring any of that up?" Aunt Zipporah asked, finally exhibiting some nervousness of her own.

"Nothing is for certain, but that's highly unlikely. As I explained on the phone, Karen is like someone stuck in time, someone for whom the clock has stopped, if you will, and it stopped before the tragic events occurred. She lives in her own reality when it comes to all that. You'll see for yourself. Don't press her or contradict her. Of course, I'll be very interested in the effect your visit has on her. We might not see that effect for a while after you leave, maybe days later, if at all."

We followed her through the doorway but walked only a little ways through the corridor before she took us out a door and onto the grounds. A few hundred yards or so ahead there were two huge weeping willow trees, and between them, in the shade, we could see my mother seated before an easel, painting. She had her back to us.

"I'll send someone out to fetch you all for lunch, probably my head nurse, Lila Mills," she said as we walked toward the trees.

"It's very peaceful here, beautiful actually," Aunt Zipporah said.

"Yes. Meditative, conducive to mental health," she added with a playful smile. She winked at me, and then she paused and we stopped.

"Something wrong?" Aunt Zipporah asked.

"No. I just wanted to direct myself to you, Alice, for a moment. It will be difficult for you to understand, but she might not pay much attention to you. Whatever does block her memory might block her awareness of you. Don't get upset if she ignores you entirely."

"Okay," I said, and then after a moment I added, perhaps too harshly, "she's ignored me all my life. Why should I get upset now?"

Dr. Simons didn't smile. She nodded and continued walking.

"Karen, dear," she called as we drew closer. "You have visitors."

My mother turned very slowly and looked our way. It was truly as if her mind, which had stopped time for her, had been able to stop aging for her as well. She looked more like my sister than my mother. I thought she could be stepping out of one of the pictures I had seen of her and Aunt Zipporah. She held her paintbrush up and then put it down and rose, smiling.

"Zipporah? Is that you?" she asked.

Dr. Simons smiled at us.

"You'll be fine," she said. "Enjoy your visit."

She touched my arm as she started back toward the building and left the three of us alone.

"Yes, Karen. How are you?" Aunt Zipporah asked her.

"I'm great. You look tired though, Zipporah. Have you been up all night studying for some stupid test?"

She turned to me, holding her smile. She ran her gaze over my face and then turned back to Karen.