Marnie thought about Jonathan’s mother. She had seemed pleasant enough, but Marnie remembered thinking how odd her smile was. It looked like the fake smile you give someone you didn’t really like. Or the smile someone gave when they knew a secret. Maybe she’s mad at me, too, for the unforgiveable sin I committed.
Going downstairs for breakfast and exploring the main living quarters afterward seemed to Marnie like a great idea. Maybe something will seem familiar. I can rest before going back up to my bedroom. Or if I don’t wear myself out with that, perhaps I can stay downstairs for lunch. Marnie wondered how she had spent her days before she lost her memory. Surely she had something to occupy her time. Evidently there were at least two maids, Alice and Mary, and a cook, so she doubted she did the housework. Maybe she had a job. A glimmer of memory flitted through her mind and then was gone. A job. Yes, that is it. I worked, but what did I do?
She hoped something downstairs would jog her memory. Nothing she had seen upstairs had done the trick. The only thing that seemed at all familiar was reading the children’s books to Jonathan and the little plastic dinosaurs he constantly played with.
Suddenly, the door to the hall opened, and David stormed in, slamming it behind him.
“I never thought you would stoop so low as to use Jonathan in whatever game you’re playing now!”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You, you and this amnesia story you’ve got going on. You have everyone else stirred up. You have Alice waiting on you hand and foot, and now you’ve pulled Jonathan into it for your amusement.”
“My memory loss is not a story. It’s true. I’m sorry Alice has had to wait on me. Pardon me for not just lying down and dying. Maybe that would have been easier for you. I don’t see how any of that has anything to do with my being friendly to Jonathan. It seems to me he could use a friend.”
“Jonathan has people who care for him a hell of a lot more than you do. You’ve done nothing but use him for your own twisted purposes all his life. You’ve ignored him for four years. Now you decide to be his friend? I don’t think so.”
“Me? I used Jonathan for ‘my own twisted purposes,’ as you put it? How? How could I use a child that way?”
“By getting pregnant in the first place, my dear,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “You used him to trap me into marriage and kept me in it.”
“Jonathan? I—”
“Yes, Jonathan. Are you claiming you don’t remember that Jonathan is your child?”
Using all of her strength, she clung to the bedpost, but it didn’t hold her up when the blackness closed in and she sank to the floor.
Chapter 7
When she regained consciousness, she was lying on the bed and Doctor Means was speaking.
“Nothing seems to be physically wrong. She’s not had a relapse. That is, she isn’t running a fever, and her color is good. She’s been on the mend this week, getting better all along. You say she fainted when you told her Jonathan is her child?”
The deep velvet voice that had so recently been disparaging answered. “Yes. She was acting like she didn’t know it, and when I said he was hers, she turned white and fainted.”
“It was the shock of learning that bit of information, I’m sure, that caused her to faint.”
“Do you think her memory has returned? That is, if it really was missing?”
“David, I think you are going to have to accept the fact that her memory is, in fact, gone, at least temporarily. This shock, this fainting, may have brought it back, or maybe she fainted because it came back so suddenly. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Marnie stirred on the bed and let out a low groan.
“She’s waking up,” Alice said from the other side of the bed.
“Marnie, do you remember what happened?” the doctor asked in a kind voice.
“Yes,” she said. She covered her face with her hands. “David told me Jonathan is my son. I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember my own son.” She burst into tears and rolled into a fetal position as her cries of distress echoed throughout the room. She wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold in the emotion, but her wailing grew worse. The doctor moved closed and helplessly patted her on the shoulder. Even David looked discomfited at his wife’s obvious pain.
“Isn’t there something you can do, Doctor?” Alice asked.
“A sedative maybe? Or a shot to calm her?” David questioned.
“No, I don’t dare give her anything like that. The lab work came back on the blood I drew that first night. She was full of a narcotic of some sort. I don’t know what exactly unless I send it off for more testing. Our little hospital lab couldn’t tell my any more than that, but with her memory loss, I don’t dare give her any more sedatives.”
Gradually, Marnie’s weeping grew quieter.
“Alice, get a warm washcloth for her, please,” the doctor asked.
When Alice returned with the cloth, Marnie sat up and took it to wipe her face.
“Can you tell us why you were so upset to learn that Jonathan is your son? Do you remember your life with him?”
Her breathing was uneven, coming in sobs, and her body shuddered.
“No. I . . . it . . . it w-was something that washed o-over me in a wave. When David told me he was my son, the blackness closed in, just like it did when I was sick. When I came to, the sadness overwhelmed me.”
“What about his being your son makes you sad? Are you unhappy about it?”
“Oh no! No! I’m not unhappy about him at all. I just didn’t know . . . I didn’t know he was my son. How could I have forgotten something like that—something so important? Maybe the news that I had ignored Jonathan for four years caused me to black out. How could I do that? My own son . . .” The tears started rolling down her cheeks again.
David had turned away and was pacing back and forth as she spoke.
“Now, now. Don’t get worked up again.” Doctor Means turned. “Alice, get her a glass of water.”
“But that’s so horrid! I’m a horrid person! How could I do that to my own son?”
David stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her.
“Marnie, I find it hard to believe you’re acting this time. If you are, then you’re a better actress than you were before you left. Your lies usually drip with sweetness.”
Alice returned from the bathroom with a glass of water, and Doctor Means encouraged Marnie to sip it slowly and regain her composure. “David, there is no way she was faking that much emotion.”
She finally spoke again. “The sadness was suddenly overwhelming. It was as if I was mourning the loss of the last four years instead of my shortcomings as a mother.”
“Have any of your memories returned this week?”
“Not really. But Jonathan had me read his dinosaur book several times, and it seemed familiar. I knew more facts about dinosaurs than were in the book, and I don’t know where I learned them. I don’t remember dinosaurs being especially interesting to me.”
“I don’t remember you ever reading that book—or any book—to him,” David said. “I read it to him, as did Mrs. Tucker, but not you. You didn’t play with him much.”
Marnie bit her lip in an attempt to hold back the tears.
Uncharacteristically kind, David said, “I’m not saying that to blame you for anything, just to set the record straight. If you know about dinosaurs, it’s not from reading that book to Jonathan, as far as I know. Maybe it’s from your own childhood.”
Doctor Means spoke again. “Anything else, Marnie? Anything you remember?”
“The little plastic toy dinosaurs he plays with. When I hold one, it seems very familiar.”
David spoke again. “He is never without one, either in his hand or in his pocket. You’re used t
o seeing him with one.”
“So you are getting a bit of your memory back. Slowly but surely it’s returning. I’ll tell you what. I’ve told everyone to keep quiet about your past—make you remember on your own. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe people should tell you what your past was like. If you had been told up front about who Jonathan is, and about your life, maybe it wouldn’t have caused such a strong reaction. From now on”—he looked at David and Alice—“you can answer her questions. Don’t give her more than she can handle. And give her facts only, not opinions, please.”
“I’ll give her facts,” said a new voice from the hall. “She is a manipulative, conniving woman who trapped David into marriage because this family has money, and she’s trash looking for an easy way out.”
“Mother!” David turned to the woman in the doorway. “That is not helpful at all.”
“But it’s the truth, and Doctor Means said to tell her the truth.” The woman who spoke to Marnie the night she arrived approached the bed where she sat, cross-legged. “He was engaged to a lovely young woman, a woman of his own class, until you seduced him and got yourself pregnant so he would marry you to give his son a name. If Jonathan didn’t look so much like David at that age I would swear he was another man’s child. You have certainly had your share of the men in this town, both before and after you married my son.”
Chapter 8
“That isn’t helpful, Mother.”
“Why not? You want her to remember, don’t you? She should remember how much she hurt this family. She should remember how much she hurt her husband and child. She should remember how she stole from the company. She should remember all of it.”
“No, no,” Marnie moaned. “I’m not that kind of person. I’m not. I know I’m not.”
“Yes. Yes, you are that very person.”
Doctor Means observed Marnie during this accusation. Finally, he put a stop to it.
“Ruth, that’s enough. We’ll get to the bottom of this memory loss soon enough. For now, I agree with David. This isn’t helpful.”
The older woman gave one last venomous glance toward the weeping woman in the bed before leaving the room.
“Well, that made a believer out of me,” David said.
The doctor looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“If Marnie was faking this memory loss, she would have lashed back at my mother. She could never keep her mouth shut around her. Marnie put little digs in every sentence she spoke to her. No, Marnie doesn’t remember her past. She couldn’t have resisted talking back.”
“You would know more about that than I would, David. I’ve got to get to the office. I have patients waiting on me. Young lady,” he said, turning to Marnie, “you are growing stronger every day. Start involving yourself in life again. Go downstairs. When you feel like it, get out of the house. Something will jog your memory, much like the dinosaurs have. Perhaps it will be something more meaningful than a toy next time.”
He picked up his bag and started toward the door then turned back to face her. “It may be hard, but try to keep those emotions from overwhelming you again. Now that you’ve heard the worst from Ruth, steel yourself when you hear what people have to say. Listen for the familiar in what they tell you. If it hurts you to hear about the person you are—or were—maybe that’s a good thing. Change is possible, you know.”
With those words, he left. David followed him out of the room.
“Now you just lean back and rest,” Alice said, fluffing the pillows behind Marnie.
“No, Alice. I had already made up my mind to go downstairs this morning. Do you think it’s too late to get some breakfast? I can fix it myself”—she got off the bed and started toward the door then paused—“if someone shows me where the kitchen is.”
“Of course you can have some breakfast. You just go on downstairs. Your nose will direct you toward the kitchen. Cook, that is, Mrs. Grady, is baking this morning. I’ll be down after I make the bed and tidy up a bit.”
“Alice, I’m going to start making the bed myself and cleaning the bathroom. I need something to do to keep busy.”
Alice paused in her work and stared at Marnie. “Land sakes! I never thought I’d hear you say that!”
“Why? Don’t I do anything to help around the house?”
“No. No, you don’t.”
“Then what do I do with my time?”
“Well, I never really knew what you did. You usually left the house first thing and stayed gone all day. Shopping mostly, I guess.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t seem like a good way to keep busy.” She had another thought. “Didn’t I have a job?”
“Not since you married Mr. David.”
Just then Marnie’s stomach growled, and she smiled. “I guess I’d better go get some food in me.”
Alice chuckled. “Well, if your stomach is any sign, I’d say you are getting better.”
“You know, Alice, I do feel better after that cry. I felt so horrible when that spell swept over me, but it’s like the tears washed cobwebs away from my brain. Maybe I’ll start remembering now.”
Marnie descended the wide staircase, seeing the downstairs for the first time since Alice helped her to her bedroom that first day. The expansive foyer was crafted with ornate woodwork and a patterned hardwood floor, but it was as gloomy and depressing as the upstairs. Evidently the last redecorating had been done several decades ago when dark colors and flocked wallpaper were in style.
Since Ruth spoke of being a wealthy family, it seemed to Marnie she ought to spend some money on redecorating. She wondered if that was something they had fought over.
I need to start thinking of her as my mother-in-law. This must be her home, not David’s and mine. If it were mine, it would be different. There would be bright colors, and the drapes would be drawn back to let in the sunshine. Maybe I’d do away with drapes altogether. I’ll bet I was miserable living in this gloom with a mother-in-law who hates me.
Marnie stood in the foyer at the foot of the carpeted staircase, her hand on the massive walnut newel post. To her left, through an arch, appeared to be the living room, although she doubted much living was done there. She entered the large room and looked around at the space that was as dreary and morose as the bedroom she had been sleeping in and as out-of-date as the other rooms she had seen. Furnished with massive pieces upholstered in dark colors, it did not encourage anyone to stop and stay a while. It smelled musty, as if no one had set foot in it for a long while. If it were hers, she would have thrown open the windows and let fresh air sweep the scent of spring into the room.
She returned to the foyer and entered the room on the other side. The dining room was as antiquated and gloomy as the living room, with a table large enough to seat a formal meal. A sideboard stood against one wall with an ornate silver tea service resting on it. Hanging just above the sideboard was a painting of a couple in formal attire. Marnie studied it, thinking the people looked familiar.
Of course! The woman is Ruth when she was younger, and the man looks like David. It must be a portrait of David’s parents.
She surveyed the room and noticed an arched doorway on the back wall that opened into a hall. As she reached it, David entered through a set of swinging doors. He had a muffin in one hand and a cup in the other.
“Oh, hi,” he said, as he swallowed a mouthful. “I was just leaving for the office.”
The words were said in a pleasant tone, not like the one he had been using.
“What office? That is, what do you do?”
He looked stunned. “Oh, uh, the family owns Barrett Manufacturing. I’m the president and CEO.”
“That’s your last name then? Barrett? And mine, too?”
“Yes. Barrett. Our name is Barrett.”
“I thought so. Some woman, a pretty
blonde, called me Mrs. Barrett. I hadn’t thought about it until now.”
“That was Celeste, I imagine. She was helping with Jonathan while Mrs. Tucker was away.”
“Who is Mrs. Tucker?”
“Jonathan’s nanny.” He waved the cup in the air as he spoke. “Look, I need to get to the office now, but I’ll try to get away early today. We can talk when I get home this afternoon. Doctor Means said to answer your questions. Maybe something I tell you will strike a chord and help you to start remembering again. It really is very important you recall the time just before you disappeared.”
“How long was I gone?”
His eyes widened as he stared at her. “Wow! I didn’t realize you didn’t even know that. Almost a month.”
“That long?”
“Yes. Well, we’ll talk this afternoon. I promise.”
She watched as he went down the hall a few steps.
“Look, my mother’s suite is down this hall. If you’re wandering around today, it’s probably best you don’t go down there. I’ll show you the rooms in that part of the house later.”
“OK.”
“On the other side of the living room are the library and some other rooms. And there’s a garden room at the end of that hall. You can go that way.”
“I will. Thank you. I’m just going to get some breakfast now.”
The Memory of All That Page 4
