Memory House: Memory House Collection (Memory House Series Book 1)

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “I should be back within a week,” she promises.

  Before she leaves, Annie calls three of the customers who frequent the apothecary.

  “I’ll be away for a week,” she tells them and asks if they could look in on Ophelia.

  “She’s perfectly fine,” Annie explains. “It’s just that she had that one fainting spell…”

  It is the Tuesday after Labor Day when Annie kisses Ophelia goodbye and leaves for Philadelphia. She is still wearing the heart-shaped locket.

  Philadelphia

  The traffic is light and the drive easy, so Annie is back at her apartment building before four o’clock. Albert Cannelli is the doorman on duty. Annie stops at the reception desk and asks for the mail they have been holding.

  Albert hands her a hefty pack of envelopes held together by a rubber band.

  “Good to have you back,” he says.

  Annie smiles. “I won’t be here long. I’m moving to Virginia.”

  “Mister Stavros going too?” he asks.

  Annie shakes her head. “We’re not together anymore. It’s just me.”

  He is now interested. “What about the apartment?”

  “I’ve yet to figure that out,” Annie replies. “I’m thinking maybe sublet.”

  “You know Marjorie Prescott? Lives down the block at the Concord?”

  Annie is familiar with the Concord. It is a larger building with wrap-around terraces and rents that are twice what she pays.

  “Afraid not,” she answers.

  “Her husband passed away a few months back,” Albert says. “I think she’s looking for a smaller place. If you want I could make a phone call.”

  “That would be great,” Annie replies.

  As she turns and disappears into the elevator, Albert smiles. He is thinking about the twenty bucks he’ll collect when he tells Marjorie Prescott he’s found her an apartment at Remington Arms.

  When Joe Felder comes on duty at seven o’clock, he asks Albert if anything is new. Albert shakes his head.

  “Nothing worth talking about,” he says, making no mention of Annie’s return or the fact that she will be moving out.

  Once Albert is gone, Joe settles in behind the desk, grabs the Philadelphia Inquirer and turns to the Sports section. It’s the end of the season, and he’s looking to see how the Phillies did in last night’s game. There is almost no chance they’ll make the playoffs, which for Joe is a big disappointment, especially since they have a new right fielder.

  When he’s finished with the Sports section Joe moves on to the local news and then the national news. From time to time he looks up and nods at one of the residents coming or going, but it is an otherwise quiet evening; that is, until Martin Selznick comes to the desk saying he’s locked himself out of his apartment.

  “I went to drop some trash down the incinerator,” Selznick says, “and the door slammed shut.”

  Joe pulls open the storage drawer on the right side of the reception console and reaches for the ring of master keys, but in doing so he notices that the fat packet of mail they’d been holding for Annie Cross is gone.

  “What the…” he grumbles. While Selznick is still standing there waiting to be let back into his apartment, Joe rummages through all of the other drawers thinking perhaps the mail has been misplaced or moved.

  Joe searches through first one drawer and then the other, but Selznick, a man with a short fuse to begin with, grows impatient.

  “What’s taking so long?” he asks.

  “Just trying to make sure I’ve got the right key,” Joe answers. He pushes the drawer shut, flips the reception desk answering machine on and follows Martin Selznick to the elevator.

  Once the door is unlocked and he is rid of Selznick, Joe heads for Annie’s apartment. He stops outside her door and listens. At first he hears nothing, but then he catches the sound of someone moving around inside the apartment. He waits for several minutes, and while there are more sounds of movement there is no voice so he is uncertain if this is Annie or Michael.

  He returns to the reception desk and pushes the call button for apartment 5C. It is only a few moments before he hears Annie’s voice.

  “Yes?” she says.

  “Oops,” Joe replies, “sorry, Missus Stavros, I hit the wrong intercom button.”

  “No problem,” Annie replies and clicks off.

  Seconds later Joe picks up the telephone and dials the number on the card he’s been carrying in his wallet. When Michael answers, Joe says, “Missus Stavros is back in the building.”

  “Thanks,” Michael says and hangs up.

  It is after eleven when he arrives at Remington Arms. When the call came Michael was sitting in an armchair wearing boxer shorts and a tee shirt; now he is dressed in the blue suit Annie always admired. He is carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, and there is an unfamiliar bulge in the pocket of his jacket.

  As he crosses the lobby he grins and gives Joe a thumbs-up.

  Stepping into the elevator Michael presses the button for the fifth floor, but as the doors whoosh open he begins to wonder if it is better to ring the doorbell or just walk in and surprise her.

  Standing behind the protection of a closed door Annie could easily as not tell him to go away, but Michael is confident that once she sees the flowers and hears what he has to say the past will be forgotten. He decides to use the key in his wallet.

  Making every effort to be as noiseless as possible, he slides the key into the lock and turns the tumbler.

  The Question

  Annie is in the kitchen when she hears the click. Before she has time to get to the phone in the bedroom, the door opens and she hears the squeak of the hinge. She is alone. Her cell phone is in her purse, the purse on the living room coffee table. Grabbing hold of the bread knife on the counter, she holds it close to her chest and presses herself against the wall.

  From the living room Annie is invisible. She makes no sound, but the pounding of her heart thunders in her ears. She prays that the intruder can neither see nor hear her, that he will be content to grab the purse and run.

  The door closes, and there are footsteps in the hall.

  Michael walks into the living room. He sees the purse on the coffee table and knows Annie is there. He turns toward the bedroom, glances around and then turns back.

  To Annie it seems like an hour has passed, but in actuality it has been less than a minute. She is holding her breath when Michael calls out her name.

  Recognizing his voice, she steps from behind the wall brandishing the knife.

  “Michael, what in the name of God are you doing here?” A rush of relief swooshes through her; then her voice grows angry. “Are you crazy? You’re lucky I didn’t stab you!”

  This is not what Michael expects, and he is momentarily at a loss for words. “We’ve made a mistake,” he stammers.

  “You’ve made a mistake,” Annie says. “A big mistake. What makes you think you can just walk into my apartment any time you want?”

  “I thought it was our apartment,” Michael answers cynically. It is too late for a game of guessing what he has for her. He pulls the yellow roses from behind his back and holds them out.

  “Well, it’s not our apartment,” Annie snaps. It is as if she hasn’t seen the flowers. “It stopped being our apartment when you moved out.”

  “That was a mistake,” he says. “I realize it now.”

  Annie turns away. This is something she doesn’t want to hear. With her back to Michael she carries the knife to the kitchen. This movement gives her time to think.

  “No, it wasn’t a mistake,” she finally says. “We were never right for each other.”

  He drops the roses onto the table and crosses the room, approaching her from the back. With his hands on her shoulders he swings her around so they are face-to-face and mere inches apart.

  “We were always meant to be together,” he says. “It’s just that I didn’t realize it until now.” There is a strange earnestness in his wo
rds, and it touches Annie’s heart.

  The anger in her face softens. “Don’t say that. We’ve been down this road before, and it’s not good for either one of us.”

  With his hands still on her shoulders Michael tries to ease her into an embrace, but she is stiff and unyielding.

  “You’re wrong,” he says. “I want you back, Annie, and I’m willing to change. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

  The kitchen is small, and suddenly the intensity of his closeness unnerves her. Annie wrenches herself from his grip and turns toward the living room.

  He follows close behind. “I’m in love with you, Annie. Why can’t you see that?”

  She stops and turns to face him. “You might think you’re in love with me, but it’s not the same as loving me. In-love is short-term. It only lasts until the thrill is gone. Loving someone lasts forever.”

  “I want it to be forever.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue velvet box. “This will prove it.” He pushes back the top of the box and holds out a diamond engagement ring.

  Annie makes no move to accept it.

  “Don’t you get it?” he says. His voice is now louder and more demanding. “I’m asking you to marry me!”

  She lowers her eyes so that she is no longer looking into his face. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Annie tries to explain that she no longer loves him, but before she can get the words out he grabs her by the arms and shakes her. Hard.

  “Can’t?!” he screams. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? For years you’ve been after me to get married—”

  “Things were different then. I’m sorry—”

  “Sorry? What kind of shit is sorry?” He pushes her away and starts pacing back and forth. “All these years you’ve been at me. Marry me, marry me, marry me. Then when I give you what you want, you say sorry. Is this your sick idea of payback?”

  Annie tries to stay calm, but inside her chest there is a rumbling of fear. “At the time I was sincere, but things have changed.”

  Michael stops and stares at her with a heavy-eyed look. “Changed?”

  Annie nods. “I’ve learned that love goes way beyond what we had. Loving someone is about giving, not taking.”

  “That’s a load of bullshit!” Michael shouts. “There’s no old lady friend, is there? It’s some guy, isn’t it?”

  When he starts toward her, Annie backs away.

  “Is this what it’s all about?” He reaches out and yanks the heart-shaped locket from her neck.

  The thin silver chain snaps easily, but when it does Annie feels something slam against her body. She falls backward, hits her head against the bookcase and drops to the floor.

  When she comes to Michael is leaning over her with an icy cold cloth.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I saw the locket and thought…”

  “There is nobody else,” Annie says.

  “Then why?”

  “Because I realize that by marrying you I’d just be filling the empty hole in my life. I want someone who will be the whole of my life.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. What’s filling a hole supposed to mean?”

  “It means not having to go to bed alone, not having to wonder who you’ll spend New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day with. It’s settling for an okay relationship instead of waiting for something spectacular.”

  Michael drops to the floor and sits alongside Annie. He takes her hand in his. “I thought we were good together.”

  “We were,” Annie replies. “But that was a long time ago.”

  As they sit together and talk of what once was, Michael’s tone slowly changes from anger to regret and ultimately to acceptance. Anger and bitterness are replaced by sadness, but there is no turning back. When he finally stands to leave, it is almost one o’clock.

  He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the key he used and hands it to Annie. “I guess I won’t be needing this anymore.”

  ~ ~ ~

  That same night Annie takes the silver locket and puts it in a box. She will never wear it again. Tucking the small white box into her suitcase, Annie prays this is not the treasure destined to change her life.

  Annie

  That was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. When Michael tore the locket off my neck, it felt like someone hit me in the back with a baseball bat. It wasn’t Michael. He can be ill tempered and nasty, but he’d never do something like that.

  I have to believe it was a memory or maybe part of a memory that belonged to the woman who wore the locket. Delia. I thought I heard her scream just as the pain hit, but then I blacked out. I don’t know why I thought it was her, I just did.

  When I opened my eyes my brain was so fuzzy I couldn’t think of where or even who I was. I saw a face leaning over me, but at first it looked like that black man whose picture is in the locket.

  I didn’t realize it was Michael until I heard his voice. He sounded almost as frightened as I was. I know he thinks he did it, but, honestly, it wasn’t him. It was something way worse and way meaner than Michael.

  I have no way of knowing what memory is attached to the locket but I can tell you this: it’s not good. Something happened to that woman. Something too terrible to even imagine.

  I’m not going to tell Ophelia about this; it would only worry her. She hasn’t been feeling that well, and she’s got her own concerns. If she wants to believe there’s only good memories attached to the locket, then so be it.

  Tomorrow I’ll buy a new chain and she’ll never be any the wiser. But after what happened tonight I promise you I’ll never, ever wear that locket again. And I’m not going to let Ophelia wear it either.

  Whatever secret it’s carrying is better off forgotten.

  The Locket

  By the end of the week Annie has packed everything she wants to take and sold those things she no longer needs. On the fifteenth of September Marjorie Prescott will take over the apartment, subletting it for the last year of the lease.

  Saturday morning the young couple who bought the bedroom set come to carry it away. It is the last of the furnishings to go. Tomorrow morning Annie herself will be gone and the apartment will be empty of everything—her, Michael and the memories they’ve made.

  She can’t help but wonder if any of the things she is leaving behind has memories attached to them. Will the young couple one day discover the laughter she and Michael once shared, or will they find the sadness of the sleepless nights that followed? It is a question with no answer.

  Until a few short months ago Annie believed memories were something that belonged only to oneself; now even that is a question. At times she is certain she has felt the impact of a memory, and yet the logic of it makes no sense. Nothing is fact. Everything is feeling.

  Annie cleans the apartment one last time, then snuggles into a sleeping bag that will go with her tomorrow morning. It is a reminder of the weekend she and Michael went camping but it is, like Ophelia said, a feathered hat that contains no special memories.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daylight is just beginning to cross the horizon when Annie leaves Philadelphia. Before two o’clock she is back in Burnsville, and Ophelia welcomes her with open arms. It is a new beginning for them. Annie is no longer a guest at Memory House; she is now part of Ophelia’s world.

  For the first week there is only the chores of unpacking the car and settling in. Annie has brought all of her personal belongings: books, memorabilia, pictures and the clothes she will need for finding a job. The room that once boasted a spacious closet and a dresser with empty drawers is now full to overflowing, but she has found a place for everything. Without sacrifice she has somehow whittled her life down from a good-sized apartment to a single room with a window that overlooks the pond. Nothing of meaning has been left behind. Even the blue ribbon she won in the ninth grade has made the trip.

  Annie has kept the locket. It is tucked in the far back of a drawer packed with woolen sweaters. Unable to forget what happened, she prom
ises herself she will not speak of it. But she does.

  It happens seven days after her return, on a night with the lingering heat of summer and the stillness of a dead person. They have settled on the side porch with tall glasses of iced tea and a plate of raspberry cookies when Ophelia notices she is no longer wearing the locket and asks about it.

  For a moment Annie stumbles over her words; they are uncomfortable and clumsy. It is the first time she has told an outright lie to Ophelia, and it does not come easily. She claims that since she has not yet gathered memories from the locket she has placed it under her pillow to encourage a dream.

  “Really?” Ophelia says. The look of doubt tugs at her face.

  Annie can tell the lie has been seen through. “What I mean is that I didn’t learn anything more about Delia or the man who gave it to her.”

  That answer is not enough for Ophelia. “Did something unusual, something out of the ordinary, happen while you were in Philadelphia?”

  “There was the incident with Michael,” Annie says, “but I’ve already told you about that.”

  Annie tries to edge away from the subject, but Ophelia persists. After almost six decades of peering into the thoughts of other people, she knows there is more. Something left unsaid.

  “I wasn’t referring to Michael,” she says. “Did you find anything in the locket? Not just the words of Delia or the man she was with, anything?”

  “I believe so,” Annie finally answers. This is when she tells Ophelia of the blow she felt when the locket was torn from her neck.

  “The pain was excruciating,” she says, “so bad I blacked out. When I came to it wasn’t there anymore. I could remember the pain, but I didn’t know what caused it.”

  This is the first Ophelia has heard of a memory reaching out to touch someone. The thought is terrifying. “You’re sure Michael didn’t hit you?”