“That sort of made a connection between me and Pamela, both working for the same folks. Of course, she was in a different class from me. She was real high class, always dressed to the nines, she was, and I’m just working folk.”
Marnie leaned forward and rested her forearms on her legs. “What did she look like, Alice? Do I look like her?”
“No, you don’t. Well, maybe I’m wrong about that. You have her chin and mouth. But her coloring was different. She kept her hair blond, but I think her natural color was light brown. That’s what color her eyebrows were, and that’s usually how you tell. You must have gotten your dark hair and eyes from your papa.”
“This is so interesting, Alice. Thank you for sharing.” She leaned back in the chair. “Did I ever get to see my father?”
“Not that I ever knew, and I think I’d know. I’d baby-sit you when your mother went out, which wasn’t very often, or when she had to work late, which she did a lot. You’d come across the hall to my place or else I’d go across to yours. She and I were friends, but she didn’t tell me her personal stuff.”
“Doctor Means said I was always getting scrapes and bruises when I was a kid.”
Alice laughed. “Yes, you were. You was never interested in playing dolls with the other girls in the neighborhood. You followed the boys instead, on your bike or roller skates. At that age, they’d try to avoid you or run you off, but you were a persistent little thing. You tried your best to keep up.”
“The doctor told me I broke my arm when I was ten trying to get into their treehouse.”
Alice gave another chuckle. “Yes, I remember that time. The boys had a treehouse in that great big oak tree in the vacant lot next to the apartment house. You were forever trying to get in there, and they were forever stopping you. So, one day you decided to climb up the tree next to it, shimmy along a branch that reached over to where you wanted to go, and get in the treehouse that way. Trouble was, the branch broke and down you came. You ended up with a broke arm.”
“It seems like I would remember something like a broken arm.” Marnie rubbed first one arm, then the other, as if that would bring back a memory.
“Anyway, you always did like to be where the boys were. When you was a little thing, it was funny, but when you got to be a teenager, it was a problem. You liked the boys, and the boys liked you—too much, if you get my meaning.
“When you graduated from high school, your mother promised you a new car if you’d go to business school in Centerview and graduate with good grades. She thought you needed good training so’s you could always find work. She said she was living proof a woman needed to be able to support herself.”
“It sounds like she had a hard life and wanted me to be able to take care of myself.”
“Yes, she did, but Pamela always did spoil you rotten—bought you new clothes and whatever you wanted. But she didn’t have enough money to give you everything the rich kids had, and that’s what you wanted—to be rich and go dancing at the country club and swimming in the club pool in the summer.”
Marnie got to her feet and walked to the other side of the room. “It sounds like I was more interested in the things money could buy, rather than being sure I had a way to earn my own living. Did I go to business school?”
“You finished business school, all right, and got your car—a red convertible you drove all over town. Your mother was set on you doing something you could make a living at. She said she didn’t get enough alimony and child support to get by, but she had a good job. You got a job right off, at an architect’s office, but you didn’t like it. You said it was ‘boring as all get out’ and you wanted to work where the action was. When you turned twenty-one, you quit and went to work at the Roadhouse. You said you could make more in tips than you could being a secretary. But that’s an awful rough place to work.”
“Is that where I met David?”
“You might have met him there. I don’t know. But that’s not where you were when you started dating. You were working at Barrett Enterprises.”
“Where my mother worked?”
“Well, see, she had a heart attack and died, all of a sudden. I don’t think she even knew she had any heart problems. And about the same time, you got fired at the Roadhouse.”
“Why did I get fired?”
“Sam’s wife—Sam Whiteville is the owner—Sam’s wife said you were carrying on with Sam and threatened to leave him if he didn’t fire you, so he did.”
“Was I? Carrying on with Sam?”
“I don’t know for sure. You were young and pretty, and Sam was middle-aged and fat. You could have had anyone you wanted. I don’t know why you’d want Sam. But maybe there was some advantage to it. You were always looking out for what or who could give you something.”
Marnie shook her head in denial. The more she heard, the less she liked herself.
“So there you was, your mother dead and you with no job. So Mr. Robert offered you a job at the plant.”
“I got my mother’s job?”
Alice chuckled. “Land’s no, child. She had years of experience, and you didn’t. He got you a job in one of the offices—I don’t know which one. I think you set your sights on Mr. David at that point. You’d see him in the plant and come home saying how handsome he was. He’d finished college by then and was being trained by his father and his Uncle John about how everything at the plant worked.”
“David said he was engaged to Celeste when we got married. How did that happen?”
“Yes, he was engaged to Miss Celeste. Then everything changed.”
“How? Why?”
“What changed everything was the plane crash.”
Chapter 14
“A plane crash?”
“Yes, Mr. Robert and Mr. John were flying to meet with some government people about some contract for Barrett Enterprises to make something. They were in their own private plane, and a storm came up. Mr. Robert, Mr. John, and the pilot were all killed. That’s when Mr. David had to take over the whole business by himself.”
“That must have been hard, his being so young and just learning everything.”
“It was, and for a while there, he kinda went off and started drinking too much. He was engaged to Miss Celeste, but he started seeing you, too”—Alice stood up—“and then you two got married, and that’s all I can tell you.”
“This morning Ruth said I had gotten pregnant to trap him into marriage.”
“That’s between you and Mr. David. It isn’t any of my business,” Alice said determinedly.
“But you can answer me this. How long had we been married when Jonathan was born?”
After a long pause, Alice answered, “Almost six months.”
Alice picked up the pile of dirty towels from where she had put them by the door and left, leaving Marnie with some history of her childhood. It didn’t help. She didn’t remember any more than she had before the conversation, which was nothing, and it brought up a lot more questions. She wished David would come home and tell her more about how they became involved with each other.
After sitting a while longer, pondering all she had learned, she decided to go see what Jonathan was doing and meet Mrs. Tucker. Although, she thought, I’ve already met her many times, I’m sure.
She found them in the playroom. Jonathan was sitting on the floor, running his toy cars over a road he had built of wooden blocks. An older woman sat in the rocking chair, crocheting. Marnie had imagined Mrs. Tucker to be a younger woman, someone who would sit on the floor and play with her son, or throw a ball in the yard, or help him learn to ride a bike. If she, Marnie, had failed to be a good mother, she at least had a vision of a kindly person, perhaps a young widow or divorcée, who could be active with a young child.
The woman who glanced up from her handiwork was, perhaps
, in her sixties. She had gray hair, which was pulled back from her face in a tight bun. She looked up at Marnie through round, steel-rimmed glasses and lowered the yarn project to her lap.
“Good evening, Mrs. Barrett.”
“Good evening,” Marnie answered and looked at Jonathan. “Hello, Jonathan.”
“Hi,” he replied, smiling at her.
“Say, ‘Good evening, Mother’,” the older woman prompted.
“Good evening, Mother,” he parroted and looked down at his lap. His smile had faded.
Marnie knew at that moment she didn’t like Mrs. Tucker. It wasn’t that she spoke in an unkind tone, but she could tell in that one brief exchange Mrs. Tucker was a stickler for protocol and preciseness far beyond good manners. In that moment, Marnie determined she would spend more time with her son than she had in her forgotten past, and she would watch Mrs. Tucker to see if she treated Jonathan with love and kindness. The thought of him not being loved almost brought her back to tears, but she held her emotions in check. She didn’t dare risk another meltdown.
“Mrs. Tucker, I’m sure someone in the household has told you about my loss of memory.”
“Yes. It was explained to me.” Mouth set in a firm line, she looked as if she didn’t believe any such thing was possible.
“So, you see, it’s like this is the first time I’ve met you.”
The older woman sat silently, waiting for more.
“People tell me I was not very involved in my son’s life before, but I intend to correct that deficiency. I will be spending more time with Jonathan now.”
“Are you firing me?”
“No, not at all. I’m sure Jonathan is very attached to you, and I’m also sure I will not be able to spend all my time with him. You are still needed, but I will be asking questions about his care.”
The older woman’s face changed as relief washed over her.
Why, she was afraid of losing her job, Marnie thought.
“How long have you been with Jonathan?”
“Since he was about two weeks old, so that would be a little over four years.”
“So you’re four, Jonathan?” Marnie asked with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled back at her.
“And you do everything with him? Do I do anything for him?”
“I stay with him day and night. I usually have Saturdays and Sundays off, and he goes wherever his father goes. Or that girl, Mary, takes care of him.”
“Does he go to any preschool or anything like that?”
“No. His grandmother told me to teach him his ABCs and good manners. She’s the one who hired me, not you,” she said with a tone of disgust.
Why am I not taking care of my own child? Why is he not in some sort of learning environment? And why is Ruth the person who hired Jonathan’s caretaker, not me or David?
“Well, I’m sure you’ve been doing a good job caring for him. He seems to be a polite and well-behaved young man, and since it sounds like I haven’t been spending much time with him, you must be the person responsible for that. Thank you.”
With that, Mrs. Tucker smiled, and it seemed to Marnie she relaxed even more.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Barrett. It is a pleasure to care for him. He is a very good little boy, and smart, too.”
“The doctor can’t tell me when or if my memory will come back, so until it does, I may be asking you some questions—questions I should already know the answers to.”
“That’s perfectly all right, Mrs. Barrett. You ask away. It must be terrible, losing your memory like that.”
At that moment, a buzzer sounded. Marnie looked around and saw the small contraption above the door. Mrs. Tucker provided an explanation.
“That’s the signal from the kitchen to indicate our supper is ready.” She stood and walked to a button on the wall beside the door. “I buzz back once to let Mrs. Grady know I’ve heard it and we’ll be coming down. If I want it sent up for any reason, if Jonathan is sick, for example, I buzz twice.”
“They send it up on the stupid thing!” Jonathan exclaimed.
“The dumbwaiter, Jonathan,” Mrs. Tucker corrected him.
“Dumbwaiter,” he repeated. “Do you want to see it?”
“Certainly,” Marnie answered. “That sounds very interesting.”
Jonathan took her hand and led her into the hall to a door a few steps away. Opening it revealed a compartment about two feet wide and two feet deep. On the side was a button similar to an elevator button.
“See, Mrs. Grady puts the tray on the stu—uh, dumbwaiter and pushes the button, and it comes up here to us, and we get it off.”
“How very handy that is!”
Mrs. Tucker spoke up. “Not only for meals, but the maids can send the laundry up and down on it also. It makes it easier than carrying it up and down the stairs.”
“I can see it would help a lot,” Marnie replied.
“Come, Jonathan. You know you must put away your cars and blocks before we go down to eat.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Say goodnight to your mother before we go.”
He looked up into Mrs. Tucker’s face and then dropped his gaze to the floor.
“Goodnight, Mother,” he intoned.
Chapter 15
Marnie sat and looked out over the moonlit yard. She had pushed and pulled the chair until it faced the windows. The effort left her exhausted, but it felt good to be able to do it at all. Now she was able to relax and admire the moonlight shining on the snow that covered the ground and bushes.
She had mentally catalogued everything that seemed somewhat familiar to her—there wasn’t much—and the things she had learned about herself—there was more, but it wasn’t flattering. Now she was trying to think of something to keep herself busy tomorrow. She supposed she could retrieve the book she had started reading, but that did not appeal to her. She hoped that when David had time to talk to her he would tell her she had a job somewhere. Maybe I work at the Barrett business, whatever that is, like Alice said I used to, or maybe I do volunteer work of some sort. She knew whatever it was she probably wouldn’t remember how to do it until her memory came back, but maybe trying would speed up the process.
She thought about spending time with Jonathan. Knowing that nothing could make up for the four years she had ignored him, she was determined to start afresh. She could read to him and play games with him. They could walk through the big house, and he could tell her about things there, perhaps renew her recollection of events that had happened.
The door opened, and she peeked around the side of the wingback chair to see David, illuminated by the light coming from the hallway.
“Hi,” said Marnie.
“Oh, there you are. I didn’t see you sitting there in the dark.”
“You can turn a light on. I was sitting here looking at the moonlight on the snow and thinking.”
He turned on the lamp beside her.
“I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly. Something came up at the plant, and I had to go straighten things out.”
“What do you make in the plant?”
“A variety of parts used in aircraft and missiles. Much of it is top secret. We’re a small operation, specializing in certain things.”
She stood and started to push the chair back to its original position.
“Here, let me do that,” he said, and easily did what had taken her several minutes to do earlier. “I thought we could talk now, if that’s all right with you.”
“Oh, yes! The more I learn, the more questions I have. I visited with Alice earlier this afternoon. She said she has known me since I was a little girl, which you had told me, and that my mother and I lived in the apartment across the hall from her. She said my mother worked for your father.”
/> “Yes, she did.”
“Tell me about my mother.”
“I don’t know much, really. I’m sure Alice knew her better than I did.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
“She was my father’s executive secretary until she died suddenly of a heart attack.”
“And she started working for him when I was just a little girl?”
“I guess. I would have been a kid myself then. I’m four years older than you.”
“How old am I?”
David stared at her. It was hard to fathom she didn’t know the simplest things, like her age.
“You’re twenty-eight, and I’m thirty-two.”
“Do you know where we lived before we moved here? Alice said we had just moved here when my mother went to work for your father.”
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone mention that.”
“So we moved here, and she went to work.”
“I might as well tell you something else about that. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it shadows some of the attitudes in this house.”
Marnie looked at him questioningly. “OK,” she said hesitantly.
“My mother believes your mother was my father’s mistress. Your mother went to work immediately as his executive secretary instead of his promoting someone who already worked at Barrett’s and knew about the business. His secretary was getting ready to retire when he went on a business trip. When he came back, your mother moved here and went to work for him. He met her wherever it was he went. My mother thought he met her and brought her here to be his ‘piece on the side,’ as my mother called it. My parents had an awful fight about it. I can still remember hearing it, even though I must have only been nine or ten. But he wouldn’t give in to Mother and fire Pamela—that was your mother’s name. He said she was a damn good secretary and he wouldn’t tear up his office staff on Mother’s say so.”
The Memory of All That Page 7
