Although it has been a sleepless night Annie is up early. When she hears Ophelia’s footsteps on the stair she scurries through the hall and waits at the bottom landing.
“I’ve got the most wonderful news!” she says.
Feeling the weight of her years, Ophelia is still trying to shrug off the after effects of the two sleeping pills she took last night. She rubs her hand across her right eye and says, “News? What news?” There is no excitement in her voice; her words are as flat and thin as a sheet of paper.
“I’ve found Ethan Allen!” When Ophelia’s expression remains the same Annie adds, “The bicycle boy!”
This is like a splash of cold water on Ophelia’s face. She is now fully awake. “Found him where?”
“He’s a judge; lives in Wyattsville.” As they walk to the kitchen Annie rattles on about finding the book, searching the name and then finding the addresses and telephone numbers for all three Doyles.
Ophelia is not smiling. In fact, the expression on her face is one of apprehension—or perhaps fear. When she hears Annie plans to go meet this man, she speaks up. In a short burst of words she says, “Don’t do it!”
“Don’t do what?” Annie replies.
“Don’t go in search of this man,” Ophelia says. Even though there has not been time enough for the thought to settle in her head, she adds, “I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
This shocks Annie. “How can you possibly…” She lifts the book off the table and shows Ophelia. “He’s a lawyer, a judge even! A man like that isn’t one to—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ophelia says. “There’s a bad memory attached to that bicycle; I can feel it in my bones.”
“There are good memories too,” Annie argues. “I’ve felt them.”
This is the first time they are at odds with one another, and both women are adamant in their opinions. When Annie sets breakfast on the table, Ophelia barely touches the food and a heavy silence settles over them. There is only the clatter of a spoon as Annie stirs honey into her tea and the sorrowful sound of Ophelia’s labored breath.
It is Annie who finally speaks. “Let’s work this out. We’ll drive over together. You can meet Judge Doyle and if you still feel the same after meeting him, we’ll give him back the bicycle, come home and I’ll not mention it again.”
Ophelia would prefer Annie get rid of the bicycle right now and never mention the boy’s name again, but she knows this will not happen.
“If I agree,” she says, “then you’ll give up thoughts of chasing after any of the treasures?” There is considerable emphasis on the word “any”. Ophelia wants to be rid of this worry. For too many years she has lived in the shadow of other people’s memories. She wants something more for Annie.
Although Annie is reluctant to give such an all-encompassing promise, she nods. The truth is that none of the other treasures have spoken to her. Not the snow globe, not the quilt, not the doll and not even the Lannigan family Bible.
Once Annie gives her nod of agreement, Ophelia picks up a spoon and begins to eat the honeyed oatmeal.
As soon as the breakfast dishes have been cleared away, Annie dials the first number on her list. It is Barbara Jean Doyle, the woman from last night. Annie hopes this is a sister or cousin perhaps, not a wife.
Before the second ring, the same woman answers the phone. This time her voice is pleasant enough, but when Annie asks for Ethan Allen Doyle she claims no one by that name lives there.
“Do you know him?” Annie asks. “Or can you maybe suggest someone else who might know him?”
“Afraid not,” the woman says. “Doyle is a pretty common name; there’s likely dozens of them right here in Wyattsville.”
“No,” Annie says. “Just three.”
The second call is to a J. Fred Doyle, and it is no more productive than the first. When he says he’s never heard of an Ethan Allen Doyle, Annie adds that he’s a judge.
“Have you ever heard of a Judge Doyle?” she asks.
“Certainly not!” Fred answers. “I’m a law-abiding citizen, and if you’re trying to suggest anything else—”
“I’m not,” Annie assures him, but before she can rephrase the question she hears the click of the receiver.
The third and last name on the list is Oliver Doyle.
Annie dials the number and waits. After listening to a countless number of rings she hangs up. There is no answer and no answering machine.
The remainder of the day is spent reading passages from the book and redialing Oliver Doyle’s number
Five times she tries, but each time there is only the ring of the telephone. No answer.
It is nearing suppertime when Annie decides there has to be something wrong with the line.
“Even if he isn’t at home,” she tells Ophelia, “there’d be an answering machine.”
Ophelia of course does not agree with such logic.
“That has to be it,” Annie reasons. “I’ll have to drive over to Wyattsville and check it out.”
Before Annie has closed her mouth, Ophelia has pulled her coat from the closet and is ready to leave. Come what may, she will be glad to put an end to Annie’s investigation of the treasures.
In Wyattsville
The address for O. E. Doyle is a townhouse on Chestnut Street. The front windows are dark, but in the back of the building there is a light so it would seem someone is at home. Annie suggests Ophelia wait in the car while she goes to check.
“If it’s Judge Doyle, I’ll come back for you,” she says.
“Make certain you do,” Ophelia warns.
Although she has agreed to wait in the car, Ophelia keeps a sharp eye on the door of the building. If Annie steps one foot across the threshold, she is ready to go after her.
The building has no front porch, just a small stoop with no outside light. Ophelia can see Annie because of the white sweater she is wearing, but everything else is lost in the darkness. After a minute the door opens, and a yellow light floods the stoop.
Ophelia sees a man standing in the doorway. The light is behind him, so it’s impossible to see his face.
Although it is what she has been wishing for, Annie is unprepared for the reality of him standing there. She struggles to find the right words. She planned to give a lighthearted laugh and say, “Hey, Ethan Allen, I’ve come to return your bicycle.” But instead she says, “Judge Doyle?”
The words are too formal and too ordinary, but once they are spoken she cannot take them back.
The man in the doorway nods. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
He is handsomer and considerably younger than Annie imagined. “I have your bicycle.”
“My bicycle?”
Annie nods. She turns and points a finger toward Ophelia who is sitting in the car at the end of the driveway. “My friend is actually the one who found it, but back then it was covered in rust and—”
“I’m not certain I understand…”
When Ophelia sees Annie wave a finger toward the car she assumes this is a signal that the bicycle boy has been found. She climbs from the car and starts toward the house.
Annie again motions toward the driveway. “I have the bike in the trunk of my car. Ophelia found it at the Sisters of Mercy Thrift Shop, and she kept it because of the memories…”
Seeing Annie point to the car a second time pushes Ophelia’s worry button.
“Dear God,” she mumbles, “please don’t let anything happen to this child.”
Ophelia starts moving faster and then breaks into a wobbly run. A few feet from the stoop her knee gives out, and she starts to fall. There is a whoosh of air as she grapples for balance and seconds later a loud thud.
Annie turns in time to see her hit the ground. “Ophelia!”
When she runs to help, the man in the doorway follows. As he lifts Ophelia to her feet he asks, “Are you alright?”
It is only then that Ophelia gets a look at his face. She gasps.
“Edward?” When he nod
s, she collapses into a dead faint.
“We’d better get her inside,” he suggests.
Together they carry Ophelia inside and place her on the sofa. He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a cold cloth. “This might help,” he says and hands the cloth to Annie.
The next several minutes are spent trying to revive Ophelia. There is no discussion about the bicycle or anything else.
Once she opens her eyes and sits up the conversation resumes. Now that Ophelia is calm and the man’s face is clearly visible, she can see he is not her Edward. There is only a slight resemblance. He has the same light hair and eyes but is taller, broader in the shoulder and doesn’t have the cleft chin of Edward.
“I’m sorry to cause such a fuss,” she says. “For a moment I thought you were my Edward.”
He smiles. “You’re partially right. Edward is my middle name.”
It is now Annie’s turn to look confused. “But I asked if you were—”
“You asked if I was Judge Doyle,” he cuts in. “And I am. Judge Oliver Edward Doyle. But as far as a bicycle is concerned…”
Annie closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re not the right one. I’m trying to find Ethan Allen Doyle. He’s a family court judge here in Wyattsville.”
Before Annie can say anything more, Oliver begins to laugh. It is a warm rich sound that fills the room. “You’re a little late. Ethan Allen is my dad. He retired from the bench six years ago.”
The disappointment on Annie’s face is obvious.
Oliver sees this and says, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Annie says. “It’s just…” She tells the story of how Ophelia found the bicycle that belonged to Ethan Allen Doyle, and she had now restored it.
“How did you find out that particular bicycle belonged to my dad?” Oliver asks.
Ophelia speaks before Annie has the chance to do so. “It’s a long story,” she says, “too long for tonight.” She smiles at Annie, and there is an unspoken understanding that the finding of memories will remain their secret.
“Okay.” Oliver laughs. “So let’s say you knew the bicycle belonged to Dad. How did you know to look for him here in Wyattsville?”
When Annie tells of finding the book that Ethan Allen authored, there is a tear in her eye.
“I have that same book,” Oliver says. He crosses to the bookshelf and pulls out a copy of The Wisdom of Judicial Judgment in the Practice of Law. He hands it to Annie. “Dad gave this to me the day I passed the bar. Look at the inscription.”
Annie opens the book and reads: “Judge fairly and wisely. Remember, but for the grace of God and the kindness of others, it could have been me standing on the other side of the bench.”
They talk for a long while and before the evening ends Oliver suggests Annie keep the bicycle.
“I already have an English racer,” he says.
As he walks the ladies to the car he gives Annie a shy smile and says, “I’m a lot like my dad.”
Annie turns to him. “In what way?”
Oliver shrugs. “Well, I’m a judge and I like bicycling.” He hesitates a moment then adds, “Maybe we could ride together one afternoon.”
Annie is not certain whether this is an invitation or simply a passing comment. She smiles and says, “I doubt I could keep up with an English racer.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Oliver says. He leans down and whispers in her ear, “When I want to, I can pedal pretty darn slow.”
And So It Happens…
The next day Oliver stops by the library. He tells Annie he happened to be in the neighborhood, but actually he’s driven thirty miles out of his way.
“I wanted to make certain your friend is okay,” he says.
While this is partly true, it also gives him a reason for being there.
“She’s fine.” Annie smiles. “It’s nice of you to be concerned.”
Although she can’t explain why, Annie is glad to see Oliver again. When he invites her to lunch she says yes.
He suggests the Italian restaurant at the far end of Grove Street. It is a fifteen-minute walk, and as they cross Butler Boulevard he loops his arm through hers.
Annie has planned to take her usual one-hour lunch break, but once they start talking time slips away. She has a million questions about Ethan Allen’s boyhood, but Oliver has few answers. He knows only that a grandma named Olivia raised his dad and that he adored her.
“Something happened to Dad’s parents,” Oliver says, “but he never really talks about it.”
In time the conversation segues into other topics. Oliver talks about his growing up years, and Annie tells how she came to Memory House. She doesn’t mention Ophelia’s gift for finding memories, and when the subject of how she knew the bicycle was Ethan Allen’s comes up she turns it off with a laugh.
“I believe one of the Sisters at the thrift shop told Ophelia,” she says. It is not the truth, but it’s more believable so she leaves it at that.
It is almost three o’clock when Annie returns to the library.
“I’m so sorry,” she tells Giselle. “I can’t imagine how I lost track of time.”
“I can.” Giselle chuckles. “Your young man is rather handsome and quite charming.”
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” Annie replies, but while the words still hang in the air she already sees Oliver in a new light.
The lunch date is followed by several others—an afternoon of bicycle riding, dinner out, the movies, afternoon walks and on a number of occasions they sit with Ophelia in the front parlor where the fireplace is lit.
It pleases Ophelia to see them together. It is a reminder of the times she and Edward sat in this very same room. As she watches Oliver take Annie’s hand, Ophelia can almost feel Edward’s fingertips touching hers.
Before the month is out, Oliver is a regular at Memory House. He is there several times a week and often brings a small gift for Ophelia—a plant, a tin of cookies, a box of chocolates.
On Thanksgiving Day he brings a huge bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums. Although she sputters, “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” the delight on Ophelia’s face is obvious.
That evening she suggests the young couple take a blanket and sit by the pond.
“Right now you can see Orion,” she says, “but it’s only visible in the winter sky. Come spring it will be gone.”
Ophelia knows there is a different magic in the winter sky, and that special magic is what she wishes for Annie.
She pulls the thick comforter from the closet and hands it to Oliver. It is a thing filled with memories, memories she hopes Annie will feel.
Once they are gone, Ophelia trudges up the stairs to the loft. She slips into her nightdress and climbs into bed. As she searches the sky for the string of stars, she feels Edward’s breath on her cheek.
Bundled in sweaters and wool socks, Annie and Oliver lie side by side looking up at the stars.
“Ophelia and Edward used to do this all the time,” Annie says.
“I can see why,” Oliver answers.
He turns on his side and lifts himself onto his elbow. Without saying anything more he leans down and presses his lips to Annie’s. It is more than a kiss; this time it is a promise.
Christmas
For two weeks Oliver has been planning this surprise, but he says nothing to Annie. Although they have moved on to talking about the future rather than the past, there are still times when she peppers him with questions about his father. In her mind Ethan Allen is still a boy, a lad who pockets dimes and runs errands.
“I think he was afraid of somebody,” she says. “Do you recall him talking about anything like that?”
“Dad, afraid?” Oliver laughs. “Never.”
When Annie suggests it is something worth asking about, Oliver shakes his head. “That was almost seventy years ago. I doubt Dad even remembers.”
“He’d remember the bicycle,” Annie says confidently. “I know he would.”
Such discussions inevitably lead to tales of Oliver’s boyhood, but there is little he can tell of his father’s.
It is just such a conversation that prompts him to plan the surprise.
Oliver’s first call is to his parents in Florida.
“I was wondering if you and Mom could come up for Christmas?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to come down?” Ethan Allen replies. “The weather’s great and—”
Oliver cuts in. “There’s somebody special I want you to meet.”
“Ah ha.” Ethan Allen laughs. “It’s about time. I was beginning to worry you’d end up a bachelor.”
There is so much Oliver could say about Annie, but he says nothing other than she is somebody special. Ophelia he doesn’t mention at all. The surprise he is planning is for all of them…and perhaps for himself also.
Annie’s curiosity has piqued his; now Oliver also wants to hear the story.
~ ~ ~
Christmas morning dawns bright and cold. During the night a dusting of snow has fallen, and the trees are frosted with sprinkles of ice.
At breakfast Ophelia and Annie exchange gifts. Ophelia pulls a small box from her pocket and hands it to Annie.
“My mama gave this to me the day I got married,” she says. “Now I’d like you to have it.”
When Annie opens the box the gift is a cameo brooch. It is circled with a rim of gold. “Oh,” she says, “it’s beautiful!” Although she is still dressed in her bathrobe she pins the cameo to her lapel.
For Ophelia Annie has gotten a new robe. One that is the blue of the sky, with pockets deep enough for the treasures Ophelia often carries about.
After the exchange of gifts there are tears and hugs. Annie tells Ophelia she has never been happier than she is at this very minute, and it is the truth of how she feels. Ophelia would like to say the same to Annie, but she still has the memory of her days with Edward.
Memory House: Memory House Collection (Memory House Series Book 1) Page 16
