I Remember You

by Elisabeth de Mariaffi

  Arden tugged at her earring.

  — You mean like Russian bugs? What was she, paranoid?

  Paulsen wheeled around to look at her square on.

  — Nah! Bug-bugs. Ants or something.

  — What hotel were you at? She made a face.

  — Kid, you’re not listening. There were no bugs. What kinda bugs are gonna be in the room at the Ritz? She’s rolling all over the floor, trying to sweep the creeps off her arms. I said what you said. I said, Baby, what bugs? He waved an arm as if dismissing women altogether and turned back to Dolan: Just another dope fiend, can you believe it? Where do I find them? Popping pills the whole week. I never noticed.

  Dolan gave a long, slow nod, and it was just what Paulsen had come for.

  — But she ran out, Dolan said. She ran out and she got the shakes.

  — Shaking it all over the floor at the Ritz! I didn’t even pack a bag; I just called the desk and told them to send me my car.

  — Did you have the dogs at the Ritz? Heike said.

  Paulsen looked at her and he was pained.

  — Of course not. I got the dogs from my lawyer’s place. Dolan, I’m done with the city. Find me a property out here, and I’ll be a country gentleman. No more hotels. No more glitzy dames.

  Dolan went to pat Heike’s hand but found her chair just far enough away that he couldn’t reach. He turned back to Paulsen instead:

  — Go on and tell Hammy you’re staying a few days, he said. Get her to give you a room and some eggs on a tray. Wash your hair, why don’t you?

  He waited while Paulsen trundled up the lawn to the house in his silver jacket, then yelled after him.

  — For God’s sake, don’t let those dogs back in the house!

  * * *

  The two wet dogs ran up from the lake too late to slip in the door behind Paulsen and stood whining at the screen for a few minutes before giving up. They shook out and paced along the porch, lifting a nose to cruise the edge of the table for scraps, then flopped near to where the terrier still sat, august and arthritic.

  Arden leaned forward as if she was going to say something, but only coiled a piece of hair around her finger and then let it spring back.

  — Arden’s been to the house, Heike said. She found me some underclothes.

  — Thank God, Dolan said.

  — But no Eric.

  — No loss.

  — And no Daniel.

  He didn’t say anything then, and she stood up and took the shears from him and trimmed the ends off a loping frond of willow that had been teasing at her shoulders. She handed the shears back, passing them like scissors, handle out.

  — Daniel is safe, Arden said. I feel it. Eric won’t keep him from you forever.

  — That’s what I keep telling her, Dolan said. He took the shears and stabbed the sharp end down into the lawn for safekeeping.

  — No, Heike said. There was a little silence. No, I don’t think so. She turned to Arden: We found the maid. Rita. You remember her? The little house girl we used to have in.

  — The sourpuss.

  — She says it wasn’t Eric. Eric didn’t take Daniel.

  Dolan jerked toward her:

  — Is that what she said?

  — She never went upstairs to check on him, not once all night. And then Eric arrived, and then me.

  Arden let her eyes catch Dolan’s for a moment. Heike went on:

  — If Eric took him someplace, she should have seen it.

  — Of course she didn’t see a damn thing, Dolan said. She went to sleep and never stirred all night long. It could have been Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and she wouldn’t be able to tell you how many gold earrings they were wearing.

  Heike crouched down to rummage through the carpetbag. She dug out her handbag again, and from there the Dresden doll, wrapped in its bit of newspaper. She swivelled, low on her haunches, to look Dolan in the eye.

  — You keep telling me Eric is lying, Eric is hiding Dani somewhere. Both of you. But what if that’s not true? What if it’s backwards? Maybe he isn’t lying, she said. Do you see?

  — No.

  Dolan was sitting back in his chair with his legs stretched out straight in front of him. Heike put a hand on his leg.

  — What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t have Daniel? She was down on the ground, and it made her feel like a supplicant. Dolan went to touch her hair, and she pulled back: I can’t make it fit, she said. I lived with Eric. I know him. I know him better than anyone. Daniel made him impatient. He couldn’t look after a child.

  — So what? Then he hired someone.

  She pulled away. Dolan told her she could go ahead and worry herself to town and back again if that’s what she needed to do.

  — But your boy didn’t wander off in the night all by himself, he said. That’s what doesn’t fit.

  She had a flash of Daniel by the stream in the darkness, his light hair and white nightshirt like a flare against the black of the forest floor. His feet cutting through the shallow water. A heavy breath: something leading him through the trees.

  — Maybe this is something I did. Like Eric said. Heike still had the figurine in one hand, and she held it out to them. This thing, she said. I want to return it.

  — To the cabin? Arden shifted forward in her seat. I thought you liked it so much.

  — He gave me an idea. She tipped her head in Dolan’s direction.

  — Me? I’m not in the idea business. He’d drawn his legs in to sit up straighter in the chair, and they bent high at the knees like cricket’s wings. I gave it all up for the garden shears.

  — Remember? Heike said. You said it yourself the very first day I was here: What if it’s not the little girl that’s haunted? What if it’s the doll?

  Dolan leaned over and touched the edge of the china apron, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

  — Heike. That was only a story. We were making it up.

  — Leo, don’t argue with me. I took the figurine, and Daniel disappeared. Maybe if I return the doll, the house will give him back.

  Dolan didn’t say anything but flicked his eyes to Arden. She was still in her seat, hands clasped in her lap.

  — I see you’ve been conversing with my housekeeper, he said finally. That old chestnut about the river and the ring.

  — No chestnut. None of it happened, Leo: not the raft, not the girl—not Tessa. None of it happened until I took that doll. I went into that house, and everything changed.

  Dolan stood up.

  — You spooked yourself but good, he said. Look at you.

  Heike rose up to meet him.

  — If Eric doesn’t have him, all I’ve done is waste time!

  — Eric does have him, Heike.

  — There’s something in that house that wants me back. She held the figurine out in one tight fist and shook it. Wants this, this thing. It’s this, don’t you see? I don’t know why I wanted it. It looked like home, so I took it. And that wasn’t enough: I went back there; I brought Daniel back with me. And so the house took him. She turned to Arden, pleading: You were there. You saw me that day. There was something wrong. You know there was something wrong.

  Arden sat up smarter in the chair and leaned in, one hand on a knee.

  — There was something wrong, sure, she said. Except, look. Hate me for saying so, but Paulsen’s girl isn’t the only one around here who’s been popping pills.

  — You think I was sleeping. That it was a dream.

  — I wouldn’t go that far. But couldn’t this be something else? Some effect of whatever he was dosing you up with? Or else some kind of withdrawal. Like the redhead at the Ritz. When did you first start dumping those tonics, before that day at the pond or after? Before or after you saw the girl in the water?

  Dolan pulled the shears out of the ground where he’d stuck them and turned to go back down to the greenhouse, and Heike shouldered the carpetbag and chased after him.

  — Take me there.

  �
�� Where?

  — Back to the house. Where I got this.

  — A story, Heike. Dolan reached out and took her by the elbow. It’s a story you told me. You know that. I know you know that.

  — How long do you think I can stay here? Wearing your clothes and never seeing anyone?

  — You’re afraid of him is all. Of Eric. It’s understandable. You’re afraid that he won’t give Daniel up.

  She pulled her arm away but then stepped in closer. If she hadn’t been holding on to so many things she might have shoved him.

  — Listen to me: Eric has already been here once. If he had Dani, he would be using him, holding him out like to me like a magnet, like a lure. I know him, I know what Eric is like. This is my last chance. I have to try every tiny possibility. Ask yourself: If this were your child, wouldn’t you do the same?

  — I know what’s likely. Between the good doctor and a ghost, I’ll put my money on the doctor. He sank the shears into the ground again, nose down. No matter what my old housekeeper and her loopy stories have you believing.

  Heike said she didn’t need him to drive her anywhere. She was just fine to walk. She said she’d walked farther in her life.

  — I came here to figure out how to get Dani back. Remember? To clear my head.

  — Clear your head? What you’re talking about isn’t clarity. It’s a bunch of hocus-pocus. You’re going to take that doll and put it back on the kitchen shelf where you found it. And then what? Do you expect to find him curled up in the kitchen cabinet, too? A puff of blond hair in with the pots and pans? He stepped away from Heike to catch Arden’s eye: Arden, what colour is the kid’s hair? I want to get this right.

  Arden stiffened in her lawn chair. She’d been listening without interjection.

  — Arden, you gotta help me out here.

  — I can’t say.

  Heike stood up straight. Her shirt sleeve had slipped down off her shoulder, and she pushed it roughly up.

  — You see, she said. Even Arden is not on your side.

  Arden pulled one knee up high against her chest and hugged it there.

  — No, that’s not what I mean, she said. I mean, I can’t tell you what colour his hair is. I don’t know.

  Heike had been about to turn back to Dolan, but she stopped, looking hard at Arden instead.

  — I’ve never been over when Daniel was up and about, Arden said. Hardly surprising, really. He kept you hidden, too, at first. Remember? Eric’s always been that way. You think no one knows Eric better than you do, but that’s not true. I know him at least as well. I grew up with him.

  Heike’s chair still sat on the lawn between them. She seemed about to leap over it. Arden only shook her head.

  — The more I asked to see Dani, the more Eric seemed to delight in refusing me. Disappointing, but you know: that’s Eric for you. You didn’t bring him to the wedding, either.

  — You don’t bring a child to a fancy dinner—

  — It’s just his way. Easter, remember? You came to that charity party with us. At the Ambassador. Frank Sinatra was there, and Gloria Vanderbilt, and Lyon de Camp. You remember. What a bore de Camp turned out to be. And then Eric took you home halfway through dinner. You hadn’t even put your fork down and he was berating the poor coat-check girl.

  Heike nodded vaguely.

  — But this summer, she said. Dani.

  — He was always napping when we came over, or off to bed. He was always upstairs. Don’t you see? Eric enjoyed keeping Dani hidden. He enjoyed keeping him in a box—the same way he likes keeping you in a box. The same way he’s enjoying keeping Daniel from you now. Why use Dani as a lure when he can control you just as easily like this? Arden motioned to Dolan with her chin. It’s like he said. Eric has him somewhere.

  — You’re on his side. You’re trying to make me crazy.

  — There are no sides. It’s what I’ve said all along: I don’t think Daniel is missing. I think he’s with Eric.

  — But why?

  — I don’t know. Meanness.

  — Not good enough.

  Neither of them said anything then. On the porch, one of the dogs began to scratch at the back door.

  — I think it is good enough. This was Dolan: he’d been quiet for once, and now his voice cut over the two women. I’ve watched Eric with you, he said. Come on, Heike. What happened before Daniel disappeared? Not your ghost story; come back to real life.

  — I should have known better than to come here, asking you for help. I should have taken Eric’s car when I had the chance.

  — Daniel disappeared the night I drove you home. That’s what happened: you came home with another man.

  Heike stepped forward.

  — Will you drive me or not? I took something from that house. I just want to return it. Either you drive me or I go without you. You can stay here with your drunk friend and his stupid dogs.

  As if on cue, the door opened and closed. The dogs slipped inside, one after the other.

  — I’ll take you. Arden pushed slowly out of her seat and moved her body in behind the chair, as though she wanted a barrier between herself and the rest of the action. Dolan flipped his attention toward her:

  — This is your brother we’re talking about? I’ve got that right?

  — He’s my brother.

  — I’m sorry.

  Arden just looked at him.

  — To be honest, I’m not sure what this has to do with you. Sorry or not. She turned to Heike: Look. There’s no harm in returning the dumb dolly. But let’s say you at least need a backup plan. In case it doesn’t work. Bear with me, now. In case Eric really does have Daniel. A bargaining chip.

  Heike looked at her.

  — The only bargaining chip for Eric is me, Arden. I told you: I can’t hide here forever. It’s only a matter of time before he comes around again. Banging down the door.

  — He wants you home with him, Arden said. That makes this a damn good moment to ask for something in return.

  Dolan gave Arden a critical glare.

  — Weren’t you the one who helped her get out in the first place? What’s the backup plan to get her out of your backup plan?

  — Finesse. Arden said this in a clipped way. She turned her focus to Heike: You remember I said that? Finesse. With Eric, you have to pick your moment.

  Heike seemed not to have heard them. She wrapped the doll carefully in its bit of newspaper and moved off toward Arden’s coupe, where it sat at the end of the drive. When she got there, she looked back at them over her shoulder. The wind had picked up. She could hear the lake licking at the shore now, quick little cuts against the wet sand. A darkness sneaking into the sky. She stood close to the car, her eyes resting on Dolan and her fingertips curled into the door handle. She sprang it without warning and got in.

  17

  She left Arden up at the end of the road and climbed down the ridge in her bare feet, the sound of the car’s motor fading as she began her descent, heels digging into the ground and fingers grasping the strongest of the weeds, low down, where the stalks were woody. The air was still and close, the ground damp but not slick. When she reached forward to the next handhold, her fingers sprang back. Thorns. Something she’d thought was a dandelion but turned sinister: its yellow stars shooting three feet high on stalks that nettled and stung. Heike rubbed her hand against her thigh for relief.

  At the foot of the slope she stopped. The light was low in the sky, but there was enough time before evening. The little house had not changed in look, its back windows high and grey with age. The wind chime no longer hung outside the kitchen, but she could see where it had fallen, tangled in the grass. The storm must have brought it down. She walked around to the front.

  There lay the pond, calm and greenish in the haze. She hadn’t made it up. The raft on its tether seemed to her uncommonly still, and she leaned against the wood slats of the house to look at it, as though she could be witness to some other world and will something to appear on or near i
t: Daniel, safe and cross-legged in the sunshine, or Heike herself, paddling along, benign in a red canoe. She did not try to imagine the little girl, Tessa, but the feeling of her came. The child’s absence was a tangible thing. Thick. Heike turned to scan the treeline, as though the girl might be stretched along a high branch, watching her from above. The woods on the other side of the water fell deep in shadow; every shape, the sprawl of high fern, the muscular reach of paper birch, seemed to conceal the girl’s wide grey eyes, her ash-pale hair in their shade.

  The door sat slightly open on its hinges. Where she’d jimmied the latch that first day, it no longer caught properly and unhitched in any breeze, although there was no breeze now. She pushed it with a tentative hand. The thin burn mark across the threshold was neither wider nor narrower than it had been. There was no difference, nothing to allow her to change her mind. Instead, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it.

  She expected a kind of nausea. The air was heavy and stale, and with the door shut the room was cast in false twilight. Heike was struck by an urge to lie down on the floor and weep, not out of fear, but from relief. The quiet was absolute. She was alone. Whatever had made her anxious just outside the door no longer existed.

  She set the bag on the floor and crouched beside it, pulling the figurine out of its wrapping. In the low light its colours brightened: the little shepherdess had a happy look. Her quick smile and unchanging eyes. It was the first time Heike had thought of her that way, or, at least, the first time since Daniel was lost. The sooner the thing was back on its shelf the better.

  Heike crossed the room and tugged on the cupboard’s glass door. Inside, a few presentation dishes leaned up against each other like young men on a street corner, each plate with a green feathered edge and a cream and crimson rose pattern in the centre. There was a silhouette marked out on the shelf paper where the figurine used to stand, and she traced it with her finger. A bleached place. A stain outline, a solid vacancy, a hole. No dust at all inside the cabinet: its doors closed, maybe for years. She set the thing back where she’d found it, matching the line exactly. It stared back at her, cold and cheerful. Rather, it seemed to look beyond her, over her shoulder at something else in the room.