Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  We all laugh. It's a perfect way to end the meeting and I run with it. "Glad to hear it. Well, everyone, thank you for your time. I will let you know if there's any change in my status, and in return I'd appreciate you not asking about it, all right? Believe me, I'll let you know."

  They all agree and say goodbye, then the receptionist presses a few buttons and says, "We're offline."

  I look around at the group. "Well."

  They smile but nobody speaks.

  "Are we going to be okay, do you think?" I know the boss shouldn't be asking them for reassurance but I can't help myself. "Will this work?"

  The skinny man nods and several others do too without waiting for him. Relief floods me even before he says, "We're a tough bunch. And besides, I think your memories will come back. This business means too much to you for them not to."

  Though it's unlikely to work that way, I'm still happy he said it. "Thank you. Now, I need introductions, and then I need to buy everyone a coffee to help you recover, and then I'd like you to teach me how my business works."

  They all smile, and the skinny man says, "Great plan, boss."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ethan and I spend the weekend together getting to know each other again, then on Monday after lunch he leaves to visit friends in New York and I go to my session with Doctor Ferraro.

  She's shocked, of course, to hear about the baby. "I did ask him if there was anything private I should know before working with you," she says, clearly far more annoyed that he'd kept it from her than that he'd kept it from me. "He should have told me."

  "Yeah. But here's my big concern. When he told me, it didn't do anything to awaken my memories. Does that mean they're never going to come back?"

  I can see her struggling with herself before saying, "I don't like to say never, Kate. But I do have to admit that I would have expected something, anything, to be recovered by now. If they were going to be recovered, that is."

  She hasn't said anything I didn't already think of myself, and yet hearing it from a medical professional makes it seem awfully final.

  After the session, I head home since it's too early to pick up dinner, then lounge on the couch skimming through the newest emails from MMC employees. The skinny man, Ned, was as good as his word and gave me a thorough tour of my company right after the meeting while assuring me that MMC would survive my condition. The emails back him up: nobody has asked to be released from their contracts and six people have offered their compliments for my strength in telling them the truth.

  I respond to them all, touched that they took the time to write, then am about to start trying yet again to crack Bubbly Words when I have a thought. Everything else I needed to know to get into the secret area was in Donna's things. The number supposedly from Bruce Williams, the name Grace on the fortune cookie fortune although she'd certainly have remembered that on her own. What else do I have that might be able to get me in?

  I go through what I've kept. The cat fur picture, while pretty, seems a little useless at the moment. I have another Grace-related fortune but I've already used Grace's name for a puzzle and I doubt Donna used it twice. And then I have that strange quote.

  If I'm downright mad and downright upset, it's down to me to handle what's left.

  I looked up the speaker, Eaton Dudley, the night I found the quote in Donna's Ottawa office but couldn't find any reference to him or his words. Still, the quotation includes a lot of directions, downs and lefts and rights and even an up, and they might be what I need.

  I check my phone for the first four steps. Down, right, down, right. They are it. Donna must have invented the quotation to help her remember the code. And I'm delighted that she did.

  Excitement flooding me, I do the number tapping and enter Grace's name, then begin following the quote. Down, right, down, right, up, down, left...

  And the damn program just sits there.

  I tap the bottom of the screen again and it beeps disapprovingly.

  I re-enter the whole sequence then try right. Nope. Again, then try left.

  It kicks me out.

  I can't give up, though, so I go back in and try the top, and it doesn't like that either.

  Unbelievable. It has to be one of them. I keep trying, but apparently it doesn't have to because the game simply won't let me in.

  "Come on," I mutter, trying again and again. "I need this."

  It doesn't care. No matter what I try, it won't let me in.

  My eyes are dry and scratchy by the time I admit defeat. I just don't know what else to try.

  I lie back on the couch and sulk for a bit, but of course that doesn't help so I make myself get up. I'll take the damn phone to the Apple store at the Eaton Centre and see if--

  Such a blast of realization hits me that the world seems brighter for a second. Center. Eaton. Center.

  I go back into Bubbly Words, my fingers shaking, and enter the numbers and Grace and tap the appropriate edges of the screen.

  Then I tap the center.

  No disapproving beep. Silence has never been so sweet.

  But now what?

  Dudley. Dudley isn't a top or bottom or left or right.

  I could just tap them all and find it, but that feels like cheating. I solved all the other puzzles and I know I can get this one too.

  Dudley. What do I know about Dudley?

  He's the cousin in the Harry Potter books, but I don't think that helps much. Dudley Left? Dudley Center? Dudley Right?

  Dudley Right.

  Dudley Do-Right. That ridiculously cheesy cartoon I watched and loved as a kid.

  That has to be it.

  I'm scared to try, but eventually I make my finger move forward and tap the right side of the screen.

  The beige-and-brown screen flickers then becomes red and purple. Each saved game listed at the bottom now has 'read' and 'edit' buttons.

  The thing now looks like a diary.

  I am in.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I immediately want to call Ryan and let him know, but I resist. Until I've read Donna's words I'll have nothing new to say to him.

  I can't decide where to start, though. Should I go back to the beginning and read forward? Or start with the last message, probably written not long before Donna ran away? That's almost certainly the information that will help me the most in clearing things up, but somehow I can't make myself start there. Donna is more than just her decision to run away. I want to know why she made that decision.

  I scroll back through the list to the first post, dated about ten months ago.

  I never thought I'd use this thing, but now I need somewhere to hide my feelings. Ryan cheated on me. I can't believe it. I never thought he would.

  But maybe I deserve it. After all, I didn't tell him about Grace.

  I want to scream, "No, you didn't deserve it." But there's nobody to hear but me, so I read on.

  I love him so much. I'm going to have to forgive him because I can't live without him.

  But less than a year later, she decided to run away? What happened?

  I move forward, reading how hard it was for Donna to get past the affair. I learn that I was right: she told Ryan she wanted a baby when she did because she wanted to keep him.

  I need him with me, and a child of our own will make that happen. If he ever learns about Grace I don't know what he'll do. But I don't know how he would. Nobody ever told Ethan and he was too little to figure it out, my parents are gone... and she shouldn't be allowed to find me since I filed that no-disclosure form.

  I take a short pause to look up this unfamiliar term, and learn that if Grace comes looking for her mother she'll be told only that the woman who gave birth to her wants no contact with the daughter she gave up. It seems unbelievably cruel, but I can understand why Donna did it. Hard to hide your daughter from your husband if the daughter arrives at your front door.

  Reading on, I can't help feeling embarrassed when Donna talks about how much she and Ryan en
joyed making love without a condom. He mentioned it to me, but Donna's words about how good it felt and how close she felt to Ryan after make me feel like I'm eavesdropping on someone's private moment. She is me, of course, and yet...

  I don't want to skip any of the notes in case I miss something important, but I do skim over the most intimate details, although I read enough to know that Ryan is no slouch in bed. His kisses drove me wild enough, I can't imagine being naked and under him as he--

  I'm working myself up far too much just thinking of it, so I take a deep breath and move on. My only chance at ever being in bed with him, if I even have a chance, lies in learning something that will change his mind about our future. Less fantasizing, more reading, please.

  I stop fantasizing entirely when Donna mentions her weekly massage.

  Went to the school today. Nadine comments every time about how relaxed I am after my 'massage', and Karen is forever hounding me to take her along. I wish I could tell them the truth, wish I didn't have to make up stories and hide behind them, but of course I can't admit where I'm going. It would all come out then and I can't let that happen. It's so lovely to read to those kids, though. They're all younger now than Grace would be, of course, but I could hardly ask to move up a grade every year. Besides, Grace will be in high school by now and teenagers don't want to sit and listen to storybooks.

  Donna went weekly to read to school kids? No wonder there was no massage therapist number in her phone. That's sweet, though. I guess she felt better having some connection to children after giving up her own.

  My eyes linger on 'make up stories'. Donna must have thought out every word she said before speaking, since it would have been so easy to slip up and say something that would lead people to find out about Grace. I did that for the coffee date with Karen and it was exhausting. Poor Donna put on a fake front for fifteen years. I can't imagine how hard it must have been.

  I keep reading. Donna continues to struggle with the affair, describing how she tried so hard to understand and accept what he'd done but couldn't bear the idea of him kissing and touching Colleen. I realize sadly that Ryan was right: his actions did worsen her depression. I didn't want that to be the case but it's undeniable. Damn it.

  Then the horror of the fertility clinic accidentally revealing Grace's existence.

  The way Ryan looked at me! He doesn't love me any more, I can tell. I wrecked it. I wreck everything I touch.

  I feel awful for her, but I can't do anything but read on.

  Ryan stayed out all night. He finally came back this morning and he said he loves me. But I don't think so. I'm a liar and a monster and I don't deserve him.

  In Donna's words as she drags herself through the next few weeks, I see Ryan doing his best to convince her he loves her and that he understands even though I know from him that he couldn't accept what she'd done. Donna, not an idiot, saw the contradiction and it devastated her. Her diary entries are full of self-recrimination and self-hatred, and I wish I could somehow reach into Bubbly Words and give her a hug.

  So instead, I wrap my arms tightly around myself and squeeze hard. She's in me somewhere, and she needs to know I don't hate her. She shouldn't hate herself either. She made mistakes, but she was trying to protect herself and the life she'd built. She's not the rotten person she thinks she is.

  I feel no sudden release, no rush of memories, but I do feel glad that I did that. Whether it's me or Donna who liked it, I don't know, but it felt good.

  I keep one arm wound around my waist and hold the phone before me with my other hand, clicking through the diary entries faster and faster. Ryan's insistence he still loves her begins to sink in, although she can't quite believe it, but her depression continues unabated. She buys her first brightly colored pillow for her home office, telling her diary that she slipped it into the house when Ryan was away because she'd insisted the house be decorated with the neutral colors she thought would present the right image and she doesn't want him to say anything that will damage her delight in that simple hot pink pillow. Her delight is all too brief, though, and she keeps buying things and getting steadily shorter boosts from their vibrancy until her doctor gives her the final option he can find.

  ECT? I don't know. It's terrifying. But so is living like this. I've considered ending it, but I love Ryan too much for that. I'm not sure he loves me any more, but I do think he'd feel awful if I killed myself and I can't do that to him. Maybe I should try the ECT. The doctor says it's safe, after all.

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, then open them and move on through her hopes for success until I find the aftermath of the first treatment.

  It's like those days have been erased. I keep asking Ryan what happened and he keeps saying nothing special, but he doesn't realize everything seems special when it's all gone. But I do feel a little less sad. Maybe because I've forgotten stuff. It seems to me that memories always mean sadness.

  I shake my head and keep going. Donna becomes increasingly confused and worried as she racks up treatments, and Ryan was right: the fourth one was a disaster, leaving her afraid she was forgetting everything she ever knew.

  It's all in here somewhere but I can't find it. I can't think. I'm coming apart at the seams and I can't even remember where the seams are. I might be less depressed, but how would I know when I don't remember how I was before?

  The fifth treatment shredded Donna's mind and composure even more, and that's when she began planning to leave, to go to Toronto.

  I read along, assuming I know what's coming, expecting to see her saying she can't put Ryan's affair behind her so has to run away, then stop, shocked, and reread the same entry. Over and over, until it sinks in and I realize I've had it all wrong. We've had it all wrong.

  I want to keep reading, but I know the train schedule and know I don't have a minute to lose so I grab my phone and my purse and run into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  "Kate!"

  Ryan stands in the front doorway, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt that's seen better days. I can't take my eyes off him as love and sympathy flood me.

  "Kate, what's wrong? Why are you here?"

  "I'm sorry, I know it's really late. I had to see you."

  He nods, still worried, which makes sense since my eleven o'clock arrival with no notice means something important's happening. "Come in."

  He locks the door behind us and leads me to the living room. "Need anything? A drink, food..."

  I settle onto the couch and shake my head. "I ate on the train." While I read the rest of Donna's diary and struggled not to cry at everything else I learned.

  "Okay." He sits next to me. "So..."

  I don't know where to start. "I have a bunch of things to tell you but I don't know how. They're all tangled together."

  "Pick one, the simplest one, and go from there."

  I nod. Good advice. "I got into the secret area in Bubbly Words."

  He looks startled and worried, and I know why, know what he doesn't want to tell me. I learned it on the train. "Ryan. What did you and Donna talk about the night before her last treatment?"

  He looks at me, his face soft and sad.

  "Tell me."

  "You already know, why do you want me to--"

  "I need to hear it from you. Please."

  He swallows hard. "Donna said she wished she could forget about Grace and everything she'd ever done wrong. Start over."

  "And you said?" I whisper.

  He looks into my eyes. "I said I'd give everything I've ever cared about to make that happen for her."

  Almost word-for-word how Donna had reported it. Of course they hadn't thought it was possible, but when I turned up without those memories, Ryan did indeed do everything he could to keep me that way. "You didn't want me to talk to Ethan in case he knew, you didn't tell me yourself..."

  "If you'd heard her," he says softly, "heard how badly she wanted to forget, you'd understand. I couldn't be the one to make her remember, to hurt you wit
h it. I'd hurt her so many other times, I couldn't... I had to give you up so I wouldn't..." He breaks off and swallows again.

  "Ryan, I love you. I love you now and forever."

  He squeezes his eyes shut. "Please. I can't take it."

  I take his hand. "I know why she left."

  He doesn't look at me. "Because I cheated and forced her into ECT and ruined her life."

  "No." I tighten my grip on his hand. "It's not that at all."

  He opens his eyes but doesn't raise them to me; instead he keeps his head bowed like the weight of his crimes is too much to bear.

  "Ryan. She loved you. Right to the last entry. She wasn't running away to leave you. She wanted you to run too and she was trying to prove you could."

  He does raise his head now, his eyes full of confusion.

  I pull out the phone and read the last note aloud.

  The plan's all done. I made the fake ticket and bought the hair dye and took out enough cash to get me to Toronto and Janice's place. I know she'll let me stay with her. We've been friends too long for her not to. I have all the steps written down in case tomorrow's ECT leaves me too fried to do them. We can't be happy here. Too many memories. I'll go to Toronto and be Kate. Then Ryan can come, once I show I'm okay, and he'll be Elliott and we can be happy forever. I like those names. He'll like them too. No more depression, no more Claire, no more memories.

  He stares at me. "She ran away to prove she'd be okay in Toronto? As Kate? And I was supposed to be..."

  I nod. I'm not even sure Donna remembered that Kate and Elliott were the names they were going to use for their children. "ECT was wrecking her mind. Reading through the entries, it's so obvious. Making the fake ticket was easy because she copied an old one, but her plan to run away is ridiculous. How could you both just go to Toronto and take new names and change everything? She can't see it, though. She really was convinced it would work."

  He rubs his forehead. "I thought she still pretty much had things together. I didn't know she was losing that much of her mental abilities."