If Memory Serves

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Does she know where you are now?”

  Memory came out of the closet and closed the doors. “No. Nobody knows, except for you and the Landrises. And they only know me as Elaine Robertson.”

  “Well, my lips are zipped. You plan on staying there a little while or what?”

  “I don’t know what I’m planning to do at this point. As I said, I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen this way. But now that this opportunity has practically fallen in my lap, maybe I’ll just ride it out and see where it takes me. I just need to think about this a little more, I suppose.”

  “Memory, I know I don’t have to tell you this again, but I’m going to say it anyway. You really need to be careful. Take care of yourself. My friend Mabel died the other night. And you know what they say about death—it always comes in threes.”

  “Well, don’t you worry none about me. I’ll be careful. Just because I got saved here recently for real, it doesn’t mean I got stupid.”

  “You just keep me abreast of what’s going on,” Sam said. “Check in every chance you get, ’cause you know I worry about you when I don’t hear from you every few days.”

  “I know. I’m going to get off the phone now. I’ll call you again later and let you know what’s happening on my end. ’Bye, dear.” Memory placed the receiver on its hook, sat down, then grinned as she looked around the room once more. As she relaxed on the stack of pillows behind her, Memory’s grin quickly began to swell into a low, soft chuckle.

  Chapter 2

  Hope deferred maketh the heart sick, but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.

  Proverbs 13:12

  Landris had come home earlier than was normal for him. In fact, he’d been caught off guard by just how blinding the June sun could be if you happened to be facing west between four and five o’clock in the afternoon. As soon as he walked in the house, Johnnie Mae asked him to get Memory’s luggage out of the car and take it to the bedroom her mother generally used. Johnnie Mae, Memory, and Johnnie Mae’s daughter, Princess Rose, were all laughing and talking in the den next to the kitchen when Landris came and joined them.

  After Johnnie Mae felt certain Landris had Memory’s full attention, she excused herself and hurried upstairs to her bedroom to call Sarah.

  “Don’t be giving me hypotheticals. Bring my child home to me,” Sarah said after Johnnie Mae explained the situation as she perceived it. “Catch a plane first thing in the morning, or if you must drive up, then drive. Just bring my child home to me.”

  “Okay, Sarah. But I need to know how much you want me to tell her about who you really are,” Johnnie Mae said.

  Going by the name Elaine Robertson, Memory didn’t have a clue Johnnie Mae suspected whom she really was. Then again, Memory didn’t know that most of what she believed to be true regarding her own life was, in fact, not the whole truth. If she was truly the Memory Patterson they were seeking, the world as Memory knew it was about to quickly go from flat to round. Johnnie Mae wasn’t sure she should be the one telling Memory any of this or whether this was truly the best place for it to be done.

  “Tell her whatever you need to tell her to convince her to come. Everything, if you have to,” Sarah said.

  Johnnie Mae hung up the phone and made her way back downstairs. She walked into the den just as Landris was telling Memory one of his favorite jokes.

  “There was a feud between the pastor and the choir director of this church,” Landris said, smiling just a tad. “Now, the first hint of trouble seems to have come when the pastor preached on ‘Dedicating Yourselves to Service’ and the choir director decided the choir should sing ‘I Shall Not Be Moved.’ Of course, the pastor believed the song had merely been a coincidence, so he put it behind him and didn’t think any more about it. The next Sunday, the pastor preached on ‘Giving.’ After that sermon, the choir members squirmed as the choir director led them into the hymn ‘Jesus Paid It All.’ By this time, the good pastor was starting to get a bit upset.” Landris chuckled a little.

  “Sunday morning service attendance was beginning to grow as the tension increased between the pastor and the choir director,” Landris continued. “One of the largest crowds the church ever had showed up the next week to hear the sermon, which just happened to be ‘The Sin of Gossiping.’ True to form, the choir director selected ‘I Love to Tell the Story.’ Well, it was on—there was no turning back. The next Sunday, the pastor told the congregation that unless something changed, he was considering resigning. The congregation collectively gasped when the choir director led the choir into ‘Why Not Tonight?’ ” Landris struggled to maintain a serious face. He continued.

  “Well, of course no one was surprised when the pastor resigned a week later. He explained to the congregation that Jesus had led him there, and Jesus was leading him away. The choir looked at the choir director, who just couldn’t resist. Jumping to his feet, he joyfully led the congregation into the hymn ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus.’ ”

  Memory started laughing and couldn’t stop. “I’ve never heard that before,” she said, trying to compose herself. “You’re really funny. I didn’t know preachers were allowed to have a sense of humor.”

  “Oh, you didn’t?” Landris asked. “Well, the Bible says, ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.’ ” Landris looked at Johnnie Mae, who stood by the couch, beaming.

  “Pastor Landris can be quite the funnyman when he wants to be,” Johnnie Mae said. “He’s not stuffy like some preachers can tend to be.”

  “So I see,” Memory said. She looked from Johnnie Mae to Pastor Landris and instantly picked up on an unspoken communication between them. “Miss Princess Rose,” Memory began, “you’re in school, huh?”

  Princess Rose stood up and began to hop on one foot. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, then hopped on the other foot. “Today was our last day.”

  “What grade are you in?”

  Johnnie Mae touched Princess Rose to make her stand still. Princess Rose stopped hopping and began to twist her upper body from side to side, causing her two long pigtails to swing the way she loved for them to do. “I’ll be in the first grade, Miss Elaine,” she said, emphasizing the word “first,” “when school starts back.”

  “Oh, you will?” Memory said, glancing at Johnnie Mae with a smile, then back over to Princess Rose. “How old does that make you? Five? Six?”

  Princess Rose held up one hand, showing all five fingers, and the index finger of her other hand.

  “Talk, Princess Rose. You know how to talk,” Johnnie Mae said, looking sternly but lovingly at her daughter.

  “Six and a half,” Princess Rose said.

  “Then why aren’t you going to the second grade when school starts?” Memory asked.

  “Her birthday comes late. She was born in December,” Johnnie Mae said, answering the question for her daughter. “I considered putting her in private school for a few years so she could be in her right-age grade, but I decided against it.”

  “Well, I bet you’re really, really smart,” Memory said, looking at Princess Rose.

  Princess Rose started to nod, then stopped when she looked at her mother. “Yes, ma’am. I really, really am,” she said with a contagious giggle. “Everybody says so!”

  They all laughed.

  “M . . . Ms. Elaine,” Johnnie Mae said, having almost slipped and called her Memory, “would you mind if I borrow Pastor Landris for just a few minutes?”

  “Of course not,” Memory said, immediately taking a swallow of her iced tea.

  “I’m sure you’re past ready for supper,” Johnnie Mae said.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine for now. That snack you gave me earlier really did the trick.”

  “We’ll only be a few minutes,” Johnnie Mae said with a smile. “I promise.” Landris stood up and they went upstairs to their bedroom.

  “Okay. What’s up?” Landris asked as soon as Johnnie Mae closed the door.

  “I spoke with Sarah.”

  “And—” />
  “And . . . she wants me to bring Memory to Asheville, North Carolina, tomorrow morning.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know about that, Johnnie Mae. You’re pregnant. I don’t think you need to even be considering anything like that.” Landris stared firmly into her brown eyes. “Just put her on a plane. It’ll be faster that way, anyway.”

  “Landris, you know how important this is to Sarah. I’m pretty sure that’s Memory downstairs. What if she decides to run away again?”

  “That’s, of course, if the woman downstairs really is her. Has she admitted to you that she is, in fact, Memory?”

  Johnnie Mae glanced at the floor for a brief second, then backup. “Well, no.”

  “Then you really can’t be certain she’s Memory. And you just may have gotten Sarah’s hopes up for nothing.”

  Johnnie Mae looked lovingly into her husband’s hazel-brown eyes as she spoke softly. “I know it’s her, Landris. I can feel it. So can you. I plan on talking with her and finding out once and for all, though.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I go back downstairs. I wanted to talk with you first.” Johnnie Mae walked toward the door. “I didn’t want to do anything before talking with you about it. If my suspicions are correct, then Sarah’s long-lost daughter is downstairs in our den at this very moment. Sarah’s been searching everywhere for her. You know this. I can’t take the chance of losing her before the two of them can meet. And if that means I have to drive her to Asheville, North Carolina, myself, then that’s exactly what I’m prepared to do.”

  Landris came over and pulled Johnnie Mae into his arms. “Now, you know I’m not going to let you go up to Asheville by yourself. You know that. But first things first. You need to be certain the woman downstairs is really Memory Patterson. So tell me. How are you planning on accomplishing that little feat?”

  “Now, that much I’m not so sure about yet. She was telling me things at the church earlier today. I don’t know whether I should see if she’ll tell me on her own who she is, and then I tell her what I know, or whether I should just tell her what I know, and we move on from there. I just don’t know.”

  “And precisely how much are you planning on telling her?”

  Johnnie Mae grabbed the door handle. “Landris, I truly don’t know. Just pray for me while I do this, okay? Honestly, I haven’t a clue what my plans are from here on out. All I know is that something has to be done. And now is the time. I’m just trusting God.”

  “Do you want me there while you talk to her?”

  Johnnie Mae released the door handle, tilted her head, and smiled before rising up on the tips of her toes, caressing his face with both hands, then giving him a quick peck on his lips. “No. But if you could keep Princess Rose occupied for me, that would be such a tremendous help. Princess Rose appears to be somewhat smitten with ‘Ms. Elaine,’ and I don’t want any interruptions when she and I begin our talk.”

  “Are you sure?” Landris asked. “We both know this is some heavy stuff here.”

  “I’m sure. It’s going to be okay,” Johnnie Mae said as she smiled at him.

  It was Landris this time who planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Well, whatever you need”—he planted yet another kiss on her lips—“you know I’m here for you.”

  She nodded, opened the door, and they walked back downstairs hand in hand.

  “Princess Rose, how about you and I go to the game room and watch a little TV on the widescreen,” Landris said as soon as he and Johnnie Mae entered the room. “Or maybe we can play a game. If memory serves, I believe you and I are due for an air-hockey rematch.” Straightway, he noticed how Johnnie Mae’s eyes widened right after the word “memory” came out of his mouth. He touched her hand to put her back at ease.

  “I’m just going to beat you again, Daddy Landris,” Princess Rose said, getting up off the couch and skipping toward him. “I don’t know when you’re going to ever learn.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll just have to see about that then, missy, now won’t we?” Landris said with a sly grin. Princess Rose grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the hallway that led to the downstairs game room.

  After the room was quiet, Johnnie Mae went and sat down across from where Memory was sitting at the end section of the U-shaped sectional sofa.

  “I suppose you want to finish what you and I were talking about at the church,” Memory said, releasing a deep sigh. “I did say some things that could cause you to be a bit leery of me right now. Especially considering you’ve so graciously opened up your home to me—a perfect stranger, in actuality.”

  Johnnie Mae was still unsure of which direction she should take. Should she let Memory tell her the rest of what she had begun at the church and see whether or not she would tell her the whole truth? Or should she admit to Memory up front what she suspected and tell her the things she knew?

  Namely that Memory Elaine Patterson, the daughter of Mamie and Willie B. Patterson, was neither Mamie nor Willie B.’s child, but in fact, the daughter of one prominent and extremely wealthy Sarah Elaine Fleming. Johnnie Mae prayed silently.

  Chapter 3

  He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.

  Proverbs 18:13

  “Elaine, back at the church,” Johnnie Mae began, “you were telling me about your family and how you were feeling bad about some things that had happened in your life.”

  “Yeah. And you probably think I’m a real jerk or something now.”

  “No. No, really I don’t. We just didn’t get to finish the conversation, and there appeared to be more you wanted to tell me.”

  Memory looked at her and frowned. “Yeah. There was more. It’s just, now I don’t know if I feel so great about telling you like I did earlier.”

  Johnnie Mae pursed her lips, then nodded one time. “And why is that?”

  Memory looked around the rather large area. The kitchen and the den were like one big room since nothing divided the two except for their identifying furnishings. In the den was a fireplace, sectional sofa, and glass-top tables (one with tropical fish swimming inside of it), while the kitchen featured a work island, glass-top table, cushioned bench and chairs alongside normal kitchen appliances like the double oven, steel stove, and refrigerator. A sixty-inch, flat-screen television was mounted on the wall in the den that could easily be viewed from practically anywhere a person might happen to be in either of the two areas.

  “Look at all this,” Memory said. “You invited me to come and stay in your home. What if something I tell you causes you to believe I’m some horrible person you can’t trust? What then?”

  “So you’re considering my offer to stay a while?”

  “Let’s just say I’m thinking about at least staying the night. But what if I were to tell you the rest of my story and you decide you want me out of here? Then what do I do?”

  “Is that what you think? Is what you’ve done that awful?”

  Memory shrugged. “I took something from my own family when they trusted me to do the right thing. What’s to keep you from believing I wouldn’t do something like that to you, too?”

  “Elaine, please. Whatever it is you wanted to tell me earlier, I’d really like to hear it now. You need to trust someone other than yourself.”

  Memory stood up and began to walk around the room. “Yeah . . . right.” She stopped in front of a painted portrait that hung over the fireplace. She nodded her approval. “Nice painting of you.”

  Johnnie Mae glanced at it. “Thanks. Pastor Landris painted that some years ago.”

  “He’s a talented man, I see.”

  “Yes, he is,” Johnnie Mae said. “But you’re avoiding the subject. Elaine, there are things I need to talk with you about, but first—I need you to come totally clean with me.”

  Memory turned around and looked in Johnnie Mae’s eyes. She released a half grin before walking back and sitting down on the sofa.

  “You know, don’t
you?”

  “Know what?”

  “Who I am,” Memory said.

  “And who might that be?” Johnnie Mae asked.

  Memory released another sigh as she shook her head. “Look, I’m tired of running. I’m tired of all the deceit and lies. My name is Memory.” She looked at Johnnie Mae and started to chuckle. “Just what I thought. You’re not the least bit surprised hearing that.”

  “No.”

  “So who told you, and how much time do I have before they show up to take me away?”

  “Memory, I don’t know who you’re talking about is coming to take you away.”

  “Some private detective. He’s been looking for me for years, although for the life of me I can’t understand why he’s still following me. He’s definitely relentless. So what was it? Did Arletha Brown call and tell you, and you decided to turn me in, or what?”

  “Memory, I don’t know an Arletha, and I’ve not spoken to any private detective.”

  Memory laughed and shook her head again. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Listen, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve not been totally straight with you myself. I figured out who you were because of things you said to me earlier today during your counseling session.”

  “Things I said?” Memory asked, obviously confused.

  “Yes. It’s a bit complicated. In fact, if I wasn’t so involved, I’m not sure I would believe it myself,” Johnnie Mae said. She placed her hand on her stomach. Her baby had begun to move what felt to be a bent elbow across her stomach.

  Memory’s eyes followed Johnnie Mae’s hand as she rubbed the georgette top that covered her stomach. She sat back against the sofa. “I’m all ears.”

  Johnnie Mae readjusted and sat forward. “The truth is, I’ve met your daughter, Lena Patterson, as well as your granddaughter, Theresa Jordan. It was back in 2001.”