Tomes and Terriers

by Hillary Avis

  “Well, you could stay here in town for a bit longer instead of running off to Portland.”

  Running off. More like running out—of money. Keeping the bakery open for the last two years had drained every account and liquidated every asset Allison had. She was nearly fifty and had to start all over again like a nineteen-year-old—except with less energy. Less hope. Allison sighed. “If you come across a place with free rent before Friday, let me know. I’d kill to have a little more time in Remembrance.”

  Myra stood up straight and looked at her intently. “Do you mean that? I mean—really mean it? If you could stay in town and keep Mr. Pogo a while longer, would you do it?”

  Allison gave a nod. “Of course. But I can’t, so what difference does it make?”

  “It’s settled, then. You’re taking over my lease.” An easy smile spread slowly across Myra’s face. “You know, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Sometimes the answers are right there in front of you and you can’t even see them.”

  Hot shame crept up Allison’s neck. “I can’t afford a lease,” she said stiffly. “I know you’re trying to help, but please—this is hard enough.”

  Myra’s smile didn’t waver. “Would you just stop and listen a minute? My place doesn’t cost a cent. It’s been a real blessing for me since Al passed.”

  “Free rent? Why would you ever leave?” Allison chuckled, certain Myra was joking, anyway.

  “Well, Crystal has been begging me to move in with her.” Crystal, Myra’s daughter, was only a couple of years older than Emily. She and her husband owned a filbert orchard out Route 247 and kept some meat goats, too. “She’s expecting number three, and Ike just got deployed. Egypt. He’ll be gone six months, maybe a year.”

  “I didn’t know Isaac was military.”

  Myra nodded. “Army Reserve. He’s going to miss the baby being born. Crystal’s just overwhelmed. She can’t handle all the farm chores with the kids running around, not pregnant like she is, and she asked me to stay with her until he gets back. The only reason I haven’t moved already is that I haven’t found the right person to take over my place.”

  Myra’s place was cute little green house on Rosemary Street, a couple blocks over from Golden Gardens. Allison had walked by a few times, but she’d never been inside. The house had a wide front porch and a white picket fence along the front, which held back a vegetable garden that threatened to spill produce out onto the sidewalk regardless of the season. From the outside, the property seemed too good to be true—it should be easy to find someone who wanted to move in.

  “What’s the catch? There must be a doozy.”

  Myra nodded. “You’re right. The terms of the lease are real strict, and there are a few small chores to do, but nothing too bad. The rule is that you can’t stay more than three years, and you must find someone to take over the lease before you leave. You also can’t have guests, but pets are allowed, so you can keep fostering dogs.”

  Allison looked down at Pogo. She really did want to keep him—at least until it seemed like he’d elicited all the memories he could from Paul. It’d be wonderful to be only two blocks away from Golden Gardens instead of two hours away in Portland. Not to mention, Myra was pretty much her only friend at this point, so it’d be a small sacrifice to give up entertaining.

  She knew what her daughter would say, though. Emily, who even as a child was so ambitious that she’d graduated high school at sixteen and college at nineteen, would say that Remembrance was holding Allison back. It was true there weren’t many career opportunities in town. Most of Allison’s childhood friends had moved away for that very reason. Even with three years of free rent, it would be tough for Allison to get back on her feet.

  But she couldn’t help thinking that it made sense for her to stay put and see where things went with Paul. If, after three more years, he still couldn’t remember her or Emily, it would be easier to let go, as everyone kept encouraging her to do.

  Not easy. But easier.

  She gave a quick nod. “That could work. When are you moving out?”

  Myra grinned at her. “The real question is—when are you moving in?”

  Chapter 2

  On the walk back to Ryes & Shine Bakery, Allison felt her phone buzz in her purse, and she rummaged inside to check who was calling. Her daughter, Emily.

  She answered and held the phone to her ear with her shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “I only have a minute.” Emily’s voice was clipped and businesslike and Allison could hear muffled voices in the background. At the end of her final year in medical school, Emily’s schedule was so demanding that she was always on her way to or from somewhere.

  “Well, what is it?” A squirrel ran by and Pogo lunged for it, nearly causing Allison to drop the phone. She fumbled it back to her ear, afraid she’d missed something. “Emily? What did you want to chat about?”

  “I just called to find out when Zack should come pick you up.”

  Emily’s live-in boyfriend, Zack Kirkpatrick, was a district attorney for Multnomah County. Allison hadn’t had time to really get to know him well. He’d been put in charge of moving Allison and her suitcases from Remembrance to Portland simply because he owned a car and hers had been sold, but he had to be less than thrilled at the idea of her moving into their tiny one-bedroom apartment, even temporarily. Who wants their girlfriend’s mother camping on the couch?

  “Well, actually, I have a lead on a place here in town, so he doesn’t need to make the trip.”

  “A rental? Can you afford it? How much is the deposit?”

  Allison paused, realizing that she really didn’t know much about the terms of the lease, despite what Myra had spelled out. She hadn’t even asked about a deposit. “I’ll find out more this evening. I’m sure it will all work out, though. It’s a cute little house near Dad’s facility.”

  Emily cleared her throat skeptically. “Why don’t we set up a day and time to come get you, anyway? Just in case, so Zack’s schedule is clear. When do you have to be out of the apartment?”

  “Escrow closes Friday morning.”

  “Great. He’ll be there at noon to pick you up from the escrow office unless you tell me otherwise. I can’t wait to see you. We can have dinner to celebrate!”

  “Pogo and I are looking forward to it,” Allison said, trying to make her voice cheerful.

  “What? Mom. You can’t bring the dog.” Horror rippled through Emily’s voice.

  “Lots of people have dogs in your building. Anyway, it’s not forever—just until I find him a home.” Allison began walking down Riverview Avenue toward the highway, and Pogo wriggled excitedly, bouncing ahead. He zigzagged on the sidewalk in front of her, and she couldn’t help cracking a smile as she remembered Emily as a toddler playing with their old dog, Tiny, on the floor. They were so cute together. “You’re going to love him. He won’t be any trouble, you’ll see. He doesn’t take up any space.”

  “It’s not about the space!” Emily screeched in frustration. “Zack’s deathly allergic! You know this!”

  Allison’s heart sank. She did know it, but she’d forgotten. “Can’t Zack stay with his mom temporarily? Just until I find Pogo a new family?”

  “No—she lives in one of those fifty-five-and-older buildings and can’t have overnight guests.”

  “Can she have pets?” Allison asked hopefully. “Pogo would be a perfect little apartment dog for an older lady.”

  Emily snorted. “I sincerely doubt she’d adopt a pet that meant her only child could never visit her! Just give him back to the rescue—let someone else foster him.”

  It wasn’t that simple, Allison knew. The rescue was always short on foster families, but that was her problem, not Emily’s. “You’re right. Maybe it won’t matter if this place in town works out. I’ll let you know either way.”

  “OK. Love you.” Emily’s voice was exasperated but warm on the other end of the line. “Listen, I have to go—my rotation starts in three mi
nutes. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Bye, Em.” The call ended before Allison got the words out. She slid the phone back in her purse and looked down at Tiny. Pogo, she corrected. “I guess by the end of the week, one or both of us needs to find a new place to live. We can’t poison Zack, can we, Pogo?”

  She was pleased when Pogo’s ears perked at his name. The little terrier had come a long way since she agreed to care for him a few weeks ago. He’d been completely perplexed by a leash the first time she’d snapped it on his collar. Walking him was more like flying an unruly kite than anything else, as he seemed to spend more time in the air than on the ground. He still bounced everywhere he went, but he was paying attention to her now, at least.

  She waited at the highway for the cars to pass and then strode briskly across it, the dog fluttering behind her. If Myra’s place didn’t work out, she only had a few days to find him a new owner. A few days to pack up the rest of her things. A few days to visit Paul before the trip became more arduous—two hours instead of two minutes—and less frequent. She’d have to get a new car once she moved, too; Zack wouldn’t want to drive her down to Golden Gardens every weekend, surely. She’d have to get a job to pay for it and her own place and a new life and—

  She took a deep breath and let it out again as she passed Founders Square and the bakery—with a huge “SALE PENDING” sign in its dark windows—came into view. One step at a time. Maybe Myra’s offer wasn’t too good to be true. Maybe it would work out and Allison could stay in Remembrance for a few more years.

  And who knew? Tomorrow Paul’s memory might come back like magic, and they could cancel the sale and re-open the bakery. It could happen.

  AFTER DINNER, ALLISON and Pogo made the walk back across the highway while the evening was still ripe with golden light. Her steps quickened when she saw Myra on the front porch of the green, two-story house. Myra smiled and waved from where she sat with a book on her lap, two large suitcases on the porch beside her. Apparently, she was counting on this working out, too.

  Allison pushed open the front gate and the hinges protested. She’d oil them, first thing, after she got settled.

  “Come and sit for a minute,” Myra said. “Crystal’s coming by to pick me up, and while I’m waiting on her, I’ll tell you the rules.”

  Allison took a seat on a bench across from Myra’s rocking chair. She ticked what she remembered off on her fingers. “No guests. Three-year lease. Chores.”

  Myra nodded, shifting in her chair. “You got it. There’s a bit more to it, though.”

  Allison looked around, bracing herself for the real catch. Maybe it was the wild front yard, where the sweet pea vines wound around the beds of lettuce, carrot tops, and radishes that peeped out of the soil in less-than-perfect rows. Tiny tomato sprouts trembled in the breeze. “The garden?”

  “Yes, though it mostly takes care of itself.” Myra cracked open the book on her lap, found a page, and then gripped it by one corner. She looked back at Allison, her expression strangely intense. “So the main chore is taking care of the books. There’s a kind of library inside.”

  Allison dragged her eyes away from plants and smiled at Myra. “Oh, fun! I was actually going to college for library science when I quit school to marry Paul. I have to say, I don’t remember much from those days, but I’m sure it will come back to me.”

  Myra chuckled. “Oh, I think you’ll remember all of it, if you know where to look. Not much is stored under ‘school,’ though. It’s usually somewhere else—some other topic. You’ll have to dig around to find those memories.”

  Allison shook her head, confused. “I don’t follow.”

  “I know, it’s OK. I’ll start at the beginning,” Myra said, her eyes darting to the street to check whether Crystal had arrived. She looked back at Allison. “Bear with me. You know the gazebo in Founders Square?”

  “Of course.” The gazebo was directly across the square from the bakery. She’d visited it many times over the years and had spent countless hours gazing out at it as she kneaded dough or washed dishes at the bakery, because it was great for people-watching. It was a popular place for locals to celebrate special occasions, so someone was always coming or going. Allison’s parents had taken her there for every birthday when she was little. They’d sit her on the bench inside and take a picture of her in her little taffeta dress, a balloon tied to her chubby wrist.

  “You know where it came from, right?” Myra asked.

  Allison nodded. “We learned about it in school. There used to be a tree in the same spot, but it was hit by lightning in the Forties or Fifties, and the city built the gazebo out of the wood. Why? What does this have to do with anything?”

  “Yes, the Founders Tree. It was a special tree. In those early days, people used the tree how we use the gazebo now—a place to visit and remember. You know how it seems memories are more vivid there, when you sit inside it?”

  Allison nodded. She would even visit the gazebo during her breaks at the bakery if she’d lost something—her keys or a form Emily needed for school—and it always helped her remember. She brought Paul there, in the early days after he forgot everything, hoping the silly superstition would work on him, too.

  Myra sat back in her chair. “Well, that’s because the town founders buried their journals from the Oregon Trail at the roots of the tree. Their journey had been hard, and they wanted to put the past behind them. I guess the tree just drank those memories up, and then it started storing all the memories of the people of Remembrance in its rings. Now, the gazebo does the same thing. It remembers for us.”

  Allison laughed at first. But then, as she took in Myra’s placid expression, she realized Myra was being serious. “Is that really true? I thought I was imagining it all those years. You’re saying it really does remember things for people?”

  “Only the people who live here.”

  Allison felt a chill rush up her spine, and she gasped. “So that’s why it didn’t work for my cousins!”

  “Out-of-towners?” Myra asked.

  Allison nodded. “They came to visit the summer I was nine. I took them to the gazebo, promising they’d be able to play memories in their heads like they were watching a movie. But when we sat on the benches, they just laughed at me. They said our town was boring.”

  Myra clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry, baby girl. They just didn’t feel what you felt, because the tree wasn’t remembering for them.”

  “OK—but what does that have to do with anything?” Allison wanted to believe Myra, but even if the story about the gazebo were true, she didn’t see how it connected with renting a house on Rosemary Street a quarter mile away.

  “Stay with me. You remembered right: When the Founders Tree was hit by lightning, the city council used the wood to build the gazebo. But some other things were made out of the wood, too. Each family of the original three founders got to choose something—one chose the gazebo, of course. But another one of them chose paper. They chipped the branches of the tree, then hauled the chips over to the paper mill in Albany, and the mill made a bunch of paper. The plan was to print some kind of tourism pamphlet about the town on it. They had it all stacked in boxes in City Hall, but when they went to use it, they realized something strange was happening.”

  Allison leaned forward on the bench, gripping the edge of her seat. Even Pogo stood up from where he lay curled on the doormat as if he wanted to hear, too. “What was it?”

  “The paper was recording all the memories of people in town. The memories were just appearing on the pages. And right away they realized how dangerous that could be.”

  “Dangerous?” Allison frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Think about the things people remember,” Myra said patiently. “Where they hide their extra house key. Their embarrassing mistakes. Their affairs. Their pain. You can’t just have those things floating around out there. So wisely, they bound the paper into books and hid them away in this house.” She motioned to the front door
. “That’s what’s in there. That’s why you can’t have guests or roommates if you become the guardian of the books. The number one responsibility of the guardian is keeping the library a secret. You can’t tell anyone. Not one person.”

  Allison’s heart thudded in her chest. Could it be true? Was the house really full of books that contained the most private memories of every person in Remembrance? Myra’s face was so open and earnest—whatever was inside the house, she was telling the truth as she believed it.

  It was impossible, though. “You’re breaking the rules, though. You’re telling me about the library right now. Aren’t you afraid I’m going to walk off this porch and spill the beans to everyone?”

  Myra held up the book in her lap. Her fingers still grasped a page, and she tugged it lightly. “If you walk away, that’s fine. I’ll pull out this page and you’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

  Allison eyed the book in Myra’s hands skeptically. From where she sat, it looked...normal. As benign as any other book. And the paper looked like any paper, too—cream-colored, with black printing and narrow margins. “That page has my memories on it?”

  Myra moved seats and sat next to Allison on the bench. She scooted the book over so half lay on Allison’s lap. She pointed to a passage. “See here?”

  Allison squinted at it and began to read. “She pushed open the front gate and the hinges protested. She’d oil them, first thing...”

  Suddenly she heard the screech of the hinges in her ears, and the image of the front garden spilling over the fence leaped up in front of her. Her memory of seeing Myra on the porch with the book in her lap played in front of her eyes like a movie, except she could feel and smell everything—the gentle breeze, the hum of bees in the flowers, the rough feel of the painted pickets on the gate beneath her fingers.

  Allison had a terrible sense of déjà vu. She heard Myra say, “Come and sit for a minute. Crystal’s coming by to pick me up, and while I’m waiting on her, I’ll tell you the—”