“You’ve forgotten a number of other things too, Dad. But events gradually are coming back to you. Suppose you tell me your name.”
“My name?” Mr. Parker looked bewildered. “Why, I don’t remember. It’s not Jones. I took that name because I couldn’t think of my own. What’s wrong with me?”
Penny tucked a napkin beneath her father’s chin and offered him a spoonful of beef broth.
“What’s wrong with me?” Mr. Parker demanded again. “Am I a lunatic? Can’t either of you tell me the truth?”
“You’re recovering from a severe case of amnesia,” revealed Penny. “The doctor says it was brought on by overwork in combination with the shock of being in an auto accident. Since you were hurt you’ve not remembered what happened before that time.”
“I do recall the auto mishap,” Mr. Parker said slowly. “Another car crowded me off the road. The crash stunned me, and my mind was a sort of blank. Then a pleasant woman took me to her home.”
“A pleasant woman, Dad?”
“Why, yes, Mrs. Botts gave me a nice room and good food. I liked it there. But one night a girl broke in—could that have been you, Penny?”
“Indeed, it was.”
“When Mrs. Botts came home she was very excited,” Mr. Parker resumed meditatively. “She said I had to leave. She hustled me out of the house with two strangers.”