The Memory of All That

by Gibson, Nancy Smith

  The doctor picked up his bag and started toward the door, stopping in front of Alice. “If her temperature stays down, see if you can get her to eat a little broth. She needs some nourishment. And keep giving her water. If she can’t drink water, we’ll have to get her into the hospital or else set up something here. I don’t want her becoming dehydrated.”

  “Marnie, I’ll see you again this afternoon,” he said as he walked out the door.

  She heard his voice receding as he walked down the hall. “David, I don’t want you questioning her. . . .” She was left wondering who David was to her and why he would want to question her. She hadn’t experienced any chills or fever for several hours, but she still felt very weak. She closed her eyes and tried to sort out all she had been presented with since she made her way to this house.

  The woman who came out the front door and helped her upstairs to her room was Alice. She seemed to like Marnie. She was gentle and caring toward her, sitting up with her all night and seeing to her needs. She soothed and petted like Marnie was her child. But that can’t be right, can it? No. No, it couldn’t. Alice calls me Miss Marnie. She wouldn’t call her own daughter “Miss.”

  Doctor Means was straightforward enough. She thought it was unusual for a doctor to make house calls. He said the hospital was full, and she certainly was too weak to go to a doctor’s office, so maybe that’s why he came. She wondered if anyone else in the house would have taken care of her if it were necessary.

  How am I connected to this man . . . David? His face is so serious each time I see him. Is it because he is worried about me? Has he been concerned about what happened to me? When he stood at the door that first time he looked angry and sad at the same time. Maybe he is my employer. Did I make some terrible mistake? Mess up something? That would explain why the woman I saw yesterday was so angry. But what kind of job do I have that entitles me to my own room here in this house?

  Marnie couldn’t image doing anything illegal, but the woman in the downstairs hall made it seem like she did. Why else would she threaten to send me to jail?

  Oh, I don’t know who I am, she thought. I might do illegal things. I might be a terrible person. I just don’t remember. Marnie covered her face with her hands and shook her head. How horrible that would be, to get my memory back and find out I’m a bad person!

  Her surroundings seemed strange to her, even though she obviously lived in the house. Her pajamas and gowns were here, because Alice had ready access to them. But it just didn’t feel like a home should; it wasn’t comfortable. Even with her memory gone, she instinctively knew she would want to live in a place with light, bright colors, and windows that let the sunlight in, not in this room of deep, dark shadows and oversized, intricately carved furniture. The sound of a bump against the door caused her to turn, and she saw a small figure dart out of sight.

  Strange, she thought, that looked like a child. She yawned, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  “Good afternoon, Marnie.”

  The doctor set his black leather bag on the table beside the bed and opened it. “Alice tells me your fever is down and you haven’t had any more chills.”

  Marnie pulled herself a little higher in the bed. “That’s right. I’ve had some fever, but nothing like before, and no chills.”

  Taking the thermometer out of his bag, he said, “Hold this under your tongue while I listen to your lungs. How have you felt today? Are you keeping the broth down all right? Drinking plenty of water?” He removed the thermometer from her mouth and checked the reading.

  “I’m still very weak. Alice has to help me to the bathroom, and I slept most of the day. But I’m beginning to feel a little hungry.”

  “That’s a good sign. I’ll tell Alice to start giving you some soft food.”

  When he had finished his exam, he settled into the chair at her bedside. Folding his hands over his round belly, he surveyed her with a serious expression.

  “Marnie, I’ve known you since you were just a little thing. I think you were about six years old when your mother first brought you in to see me. Do you remember that?”

  She shook her head.

  “You were getting your immunizations before starting first grade. From then on, you were in my office every few months to get patched up from one scrape or another. It seemed like you were always going somewhere you shouldn’t or doing something dangerous.

  “I remember when you followed some boys in the neighborhood when you were ten. They told you not to climb the ladder into their treehouse, so you climbed another tree and tried to jump over. You sure fussed at me about the cast on your broken arm. You would always do exactly what someone told you not to do. Remember what you once told me?”

  As the doctor recounted her childhood, Marnie tried her best to remember it, but nothing came to her. Slowly, she shook her head.

  “I don’t remember, Doctor. I don’t remember a thing. Not you, not this house, not even who I am.”

  He studied her intently. “Marnie, is this another one of your tricks?”

  “No. It’s not a trick. I can’t remember anything.”

  He sat quietly for a few moments before speaking. “What is the first thing you do remember, and how did you come to be back home?”

  “The first thing I remember is standing in a park right beside a city street, the cold mist stinging my cheeks.”

  She went on to tell him about finding the receipt and following the street to the address written on it, about being too weak to go on, and about Alice leading her to this room.

  “I didn’t know her name then, but she knew me. She called me ‘Miss Marnie,’ and that’s how I found out my name. I don’t know anything else about myself, though. Can you tell me, Doctor? Can you tell me who I am and why these people seem to be mad at me?”

  The portly man simply stared at her. He appeared to be waiting for her to add more information to what she had already told him. Finally he spoke.

  “I’ve seen many cases of temporary amnesia. People who have had a shock sometimes forget things. A person who’s been in a mishap of some sort—a car wreck or industrial accident—may never remember it happening. And sometimes when something really terrible, emotionally speaking, has happened, people shut it out like it never happened because they can’t deal with it. But I’ve never had anyone forget who they are or what has happened in their lives up until the time of the event. That’s rare . . . very rare.”

  He continued to observe her, without a word. Finally he sighed and continued.

  “I don’t know if this is one of your tricks or not, Marnie”— he stood and picked up his satchel—“but I will tell you this: both David and Ruth are extremely upset with you. I don’t know what you did for them to react like this, but it must be something serious. I’m glad I don’t know. That keeps me from getting in the middle of something that’s not my business. Besides, you need to remember things on your own, instead of claiming someone else’s words as your memories. It would be too easy to tell you what you did or said and make you think that was the truth when it might not be so.

  “I’m not saying anyone in your life would deliberately do that, but I’ve seen it happen in cases of severe trauma. You need to be the one to figure it out because you’re the only person who knows what you did and why. You’re the only person who can answer your questions.”

  “I wish I could remember, Doctor. Truly I do. It is a terrible feeling to not remember my past or even who I am.”

  “I would like to promise you your memory will come back, but I can’t. It usually does, though.” He turned and walked toward the door. “Just keep getting better. Take your medicine and rest. I’ll tell Alice to give you some light food. Maybe in a couple of days you can get up. Maybe something in the house will jog your memory.”

  He paus
ed before walking out of the room.

  “Doctor, what did I say to you when I was ten?”

  “You said, ‘If I can’t get to where I’m going one way, I’ll get to it another.’ You’ve pretty much lived by that rule all your life.”

  Chapter 4

  Marnie sank back into the soft bedding, pulled the duvet around her shoulders to protect her from the chill in the room, and thought about what Doctor Means had said. She might eventually remember her life and what had happened to her, but there was a chance she might not. She didn’t know if she could face the possibility of never knowing her past. She didn’t know if she could build a life with the people around her being angry about something she couldn’t remember doing. She wondered if she’d be able to make amends, especially if she didn’t remember doing anything.

  As she puzzled over seemingly insurmountable obstacles, she noticed the small face once again looking into the room from around door.

  “Hi,” she said, and the face disappeared.

  She stayed quiet and still, and the face soon reappeared. He looked to be about five years old, and he had dark brown hair with bangs cut straight across. Chocolate eyes watched her curiously.

  “Hi,” she said again, expecting him to retreat as before.

  He was silent as his eyes scanned the room and came to rest on Marnie.

  “Hi,” he said finally.

  “What’s your name?”

  He appeared to be thinking about his answer, as if he, like Marnie, wasn’t too sure.

  “Jonathan.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Jonathan. I’m Marnie. But I guess you already knew that.”

  He didn’t reply but turned his head and then darted away.

  A minute later, Alice entered the room carrying a tray loaded with food.

  “Doctor Means said you were getting hungry and could have some soft food, so I had Cook fix you some scrambled eggs and toast.”

  She set the tray on the bedside table and propped Marnie up on two fluffy pillows. The tray she placed across Marnie’s legs was carefully set with fine china and real silver.

  “This looks lovely, Alice.”

  “When you’re feeling poorly, it helps to have a touch of pretty to make you feel better,” Alice said as she took the napkin from the tray and spread it over Marnie’s pajamas. When she removed the silver dome covering the plate, the aroma caused Marnie’s stomach to growl in anticipation.

  “Mm. This is delicious,” she said after the first forkful.

  “Yes, Cook knows just how you like ‘em.”

  Then she knows more than I do, Marnie thought.

  Alice sat in the chair next to the bed.

  “You’re doing a lot better. If you don’t think you’ll need me during the night, I’d like to go home and sleep in my own bed.”

  Marnie stopped, fork mid-air, and stared at her.

  “If you think you’ll need me, I’ll stay,” the older woman said as she hopped to her feet and smoothed the sheet covering Marnie.

  “Alice, no. It’s just that I never thought about where you were sleeping.”

  “I’ve been catching a few minutes shut-eye here and there in the rooms up on the top floor that the live-in help used in the old days. I can stay tonight,” she said determinedly. “You might need me.”

  “No, Alice. You go on home. I’ve gotten up a couple of times by myself today, and I made it just fine. You go on home for the night.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  As Marnie finished the last few bites, Alice spoke again.

  “Dr. Means said you can’t remember what happened to you, where you’ve been and all.”

  Marnie leaned back and settled into the pillows.

  “No, I can’t. In fact, I can’t remember anything at all.”

  “Isn’t that something? Wonder why?”

  “I don’t know. The doctor said I’ll probably remember in time, but it’s possible I might never regain my memory.”

  “He’s having dinner downstairs with Mr. David and Miss Ruth. They’re all talking about what happened.”

  “What are they saying?”

  Alice looked evasively around the room and twisted the hem of her apron. “I didn’t stay. I don’t listen in on conversations in the house.”

  “I didn’t mean that, Alice. I just thought you might have heard him say more than he told me about what might have caused my amnesia.”

  “Well,” she said as she smoothed her apron flat again, “he said it was most likely a shock of some kind, but that you looked right run down—that’s what he said, ‘run down’—and was really sick, not pretending.”

  “Not pretending to be sick or not pretending to have amnesia?”

  “Not pretending to be sick. You’re really sick.”

  “But I’m pretending to have amnesia?”

  Alice shrugged her shoulders. “That’s what they’re talking about.”

  “I’m not pretending. I didn’t even know my name until you called me Marnie.”

  “Land sakes,” Alice said, her eyes growing wide. “Isn’t that something?” She leaned forward in the chair. “You didn’t even know your name?”

  “No, not even that.”

  “How did you get here, home that is, if you didn’t know who you was?”

  “I found a receipt in my coat pocket that had this address on it, so I walked.”

  “Where did you walk from? Was it far?”

  “The first thing I can remember is I was standing in a park. I started walking, passing stores and a café. I kept thinking I would remember at any minute who I was and where I belonged, but nothing came to me. When I found the receipt and saw the street sign, I just started walking until I got here.”

  “That was a long walk from City Park to here.”

  “Yes, and I couldn’t have gone any further. If you hadn’t come out of the house when you did, I probably would have passed out before I made it up the front steps.”

  Marnie was so intent on telling Alice her story she didn’t hear the footsteps in the hall and was startled by the deep, masculine voice.

  “Alice, would you leave us, please?”

  “Yes, sir.” She rose from the chair and picked up the tray that bridged Marnie’s lap. “I’ll just take this back to the kitchen now.” She stopped in the doorway and turned around. “I’ll check back on you, Miss Marnie, and get you settled for the night before I go home.” She left, casting a glance at the stern-faced man who now stood by the bed.

  “So, you don’t remember anything before you appeared at the front door. Is that right?”

  Marnie drew the soft white duvet around her neck, as if to protect herself from the question laden with sarcasm.

  “Yes.”

  He sat down in the chair beside the bed.

  “That’s a dilly of a story, Marnie, even for you. Every time I think I couldn’t be surprised by another thing you do or story you tell, you come up with something to top the last escapade.” He crossed his legs and frowned. “Do you honestly think this is going to get you out of trouble?”

  “I don’t remember what I did. The first thing I remember is standing in the park, but from the way that woman spoke to me, threatening me with jail, and now your tone of voice, I must have done something horrible.”

  He snickered humorlessly. “You might say that.”

  “Well, whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry won’t get it this time, Marnie.”

  “I might not remember my past, but I know myself, somehow. And I know I would never do anything horrible. I just wouldn’t.”

  “So, you’re remaking yourself? Just like that? You don’t remember, so now you’re a good
girl?”

  Marnie was trembling from the effort to be civil to this odious man. How dare he tell me I’m not a good person?

  “I am. I know it.”

  “Well, you sure could have fooled me and everyone around you.”

  “Alice seems to like me. She speaks kindly to me.”

  “She’s known you since you were a little girl. Perhaps she has better memories of you than the rest of us do.”

  He shoved the chair back and strode toward the door.

  “Doctor Means said it’s better if you remember on your own who you are and what you’ve done. So, I’m not going to give you any clues to your past. You’ll slip up soon, and the game will be over.”

  He paused at the door to give her one final look, and she took the opportunity to ask him the question that had been plaguing her since she first saw him.

  “Please tell me one thing. Are you David?”

  He stared, unspeaking, and then nodded.

  “Who are you to me? Are you my employer?”

  His smile was bitter as he answered, “Surely you haven’t forgotten that, my dear, after you tried so hard to catch me. I’m your husband.”

  Chapter 5

  Marnie was stunned. So many questions swirled around in her brain she hardly knew which one to concentrate on first. David was her husband. Somehow that wasn’t a complete shock. She remembered the tingle she felt when she first heard his voice. Her body evidently hadn’t forgotten him, even if her brain had. Something deep within her woke up and paid attention when he spoke.