by Geeta Kakade
“It’s the why she’s suppressing the memories that’s the problem,” continued Jacob. “She’s blocking out most things connected with the military as if she’s linked everything to whatever happened to her. Some things are coming back to her in bits and pieces like using her camera equipment in the field, playing cards with other officers, having video chats with Aunt Grace but they’re only there for seconds.”
“So the breakthrough tonight was her first big recollection?” Mark wanted to know.
“It was. I didn’t want to put any pressure on her to remember more by making a big deal of it but it is her first glimpse of the past.”
“How’s her energy level?” Mark got on the exercise bike and set the dials on the panel.
“She was okay on the trip. Gets tired easily and that’s because she eats like a bird. We’ve been walking a lot and she swam every day on the trip. Exercise helps all around.”
“It’ll take time,” Mark reminded him. “We read up something on the subject.”
“She’ll relax here,” Andrew sounded encouraging. “I admire the way she spoke up about her amnesia. She’s very upfront about things.”
“That she is,” agreed Jacob. “You should have seen her when she found out the marriage was fake. No fuss, no why did you? Just total calm acceptance. She said it was best we go along with the plan as it would relieve Uncle Paul of the burden of worrying about her.”
“Uncle Paul was right when he said she was a good soldier,” Mark began his workout. “Those traits seem to be surfacing and will help her.”
“The next few days are going to be a test for her and I’m not even sure she’ll pass it. It’s the first time she’ll be with a group of people. I promised her we would move out to a place of our own if she was uncomfortable.”
“Is it really hard on you to do this?” asked Mark.
“I like Laurel so it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”
“She trusts you totally,” Andrew noted.
Mark nodded. “She’s perfectly at ease with you and that’s a great accomplishment in such a short time. It took Christy the longest time to start liking me.”
Jacob turned to sit down astride the home gym and begin his workout. Mark and Andrew looked at each other. It was clear to them Jacob was getting emotionally involved with his charge.
In the kitchen the women chatted as they got things ready for the next day’s breakfast. The Kemps had retired worn out by their Bridge Marathon.
“Laurel’s so pretty,” Moira rinsed the dishes she’d been washing.
“Those eyes are gorgeous but right now they mirror her anxiety.” Bridget observed with her usual acumen.
“I wonder what we can do to make her feel at home here,” Christy wiped the dishes. “When I came it was getting the house ready for guests that had me settling in. When Bridget got here it was all the activities in the summertime and the dolls. What can we do for Laurel? She has this grey aura that denotes so much sadness I want to put my arms around her and tell her it will all be fine.”
Bridget and Moira nodded agreement.
“I’ll be happy to share the doll collection with her if she shows an interest in it,” Bridget said.
“She can cook all she wants in here.” Moira added. “Mrs. Kemp and I won’t stop her.”
“Don’t think she can cook,” Christy put out the spoons for breakfast. “Uncle Paul sent Mark her bio. In school she loved gymnastics and sports. She did the last four years of high school and college together in a magnet school and graduated with a degree in photojournalism. She enlisted at eighteen and after completing her MOS in combat training and a couple of camera courses she was deployed to Germany, then Korea then Afghanistan. Other than work she hasn’t had time for anything. In her spare time she would make videos of the soldiers with a commentary to send home to their families. She was very social and friendly before her accident, plays Scrabble and chess, and is a great dancer.”
All three women looked at each other.
“We’ll have to think of something other than dolls and cooking,” Moira put napkins in the empty holder.
“Not to change the subject,” Christy told Bridget. “ but Norah said to tell you that there was a man in the café the other day asking about you.”
“About me?” Bridget sounded surprised. “What man? Did he mention he was a collector?”
There were people who asked in town about the dolls she sold online.
“Norah said she didn’t know but she thought he looked like the private detective her sister had hired to get proof of her husband’s cheating. She couldn’t be sure though.”
“Private detective,” Moira said. “Now that sounds mysterious.”
Bridget nodded. “I’ll talk to Norah tomorrow. I have to go into town for some other things.” She turned to Christy. “Text me if you want anything and I’ll drop it off on the way back. I might get a chance to talk to Laurel then without Jacob around.”
“Let me know if you need a hand with anything at your place and I’ll come around in the afternoon and help,” Moira offered.
“It’s going great but thanks.” Bridget smiled. “It works both ways. I can be over here in a jiffy if you need me for anything at all.”
“We miss you,” Christy kissed Bridget, “but this is the time for you and Andrew to focus on each other. Nothing beats the sweetness of those early months together.”
“And that coming from an old married woman like you cousin, means so much,” Bridget kissed her back.
“You’re getting cheeky,” Christy smiled. “Never thought I’d use the words in connection with you but cheeky suits you.”
“I’m going to have you all over for a meal again soon.”
“Where’s the rush?” asked Christy.
The men came in just then and the party broke up.
“She’s nice,” Bridget told her husband that night. “A little reserved but nice.”
His hands were on the first button of her blouse. “Let me tell you who else was reserved when I first met her. I could barely get her to give me the time of day.”
Bridget laughed. “But luckily for you I’m not reserved anymore.”
Andrew lifted her in his arms and went toward the bed. “Not since you married me,” he said. “Thank God.”
Laurel felt a warm tongue lick her face.
“Oof!” she said and opened her eyes wondering if she was dreaming.
It was Coco, the chocolate Labrador. She smiled and patted the dog’s head.
“G’morning to you too.”
Her eyes flew to the other bed. It was empty.
As if guessing her thoughts the bathroom door opened and Jacob came out. Freshly showered he was dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt and looked very…very…Her mind refused to accept any of the words her heart supplied.
Handsome. Powerful. Virile?
“G’morning!” he smiled. “Slept well?”
“Very well,” Laurel heard the note of surprise in her own voice.
“Great. Breakfast is out till ten thirty so take your time getting ready.”
Laurel glanced at the clock on nightstand between their beds. It was eight o’clock. She looked at the window. Sunshine poured in.
“I think I’ll go for a short run first.” She swung her pajama clad legs over the side of the bed and looked around for her gym shoes.
Suddenly she stopped and looked at Jacob.
“I like to run when I can,” she said on a note of discovery.
He was looking at her intently but all he said was, “Yes, Uncle Paul said you did. Want me to go with you?”
Laurel stood up and got her sweats out of the chest of drawers. “No thanks. I’ll take it easy and not go too far but I’d like to run by myself.”
It was the first small step on the road of independence. The path by the lake was private to the houses here and no one would follow her there. Unless they came shooting at her in a boat on the lake, like in the James Bond
movie she and Carol had loved, and that was highly unlikely.
“Okay. Take your cell phone with you. I’ll be in the office if you need me later.”
She did some stretching and then left the house following the path they had walked on yesterday and twenty minutes later was back at the house. Jacob and Christy were at the boat shed when she returned and Coco ran up to her as if she’d been gone too long. She waved to Christy and kept on going to the house. Had they come out to keep an eye on her while she ran?
Laurel knew she ought to get her odometer on so she could time herself and see if she could get up to her old limit. She paused. She didn’t have an odometer now but she’d probably had one at one time. As for her old limit she would just have to set a new one gradually.
In the shower she told herself it was great to remember even little things.
Mrs. Kemp smiled at her when she went into the kitchen. Laurel felt a little guilty.
It was nine o’clock. There was an older man at the kitchen table and he stood up as she walked in.
“I’m Toby the gardener ma’am.”
“Laurel,” she said shaking hands with him. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late,” Mrs. Kemp said reassuringly. “Some days there are guests who come down at ten thirty as we are getting to the end of the breakfast hour and eat till eleven thirty.”
Laurel looked at the spread and then turned to the coffee machine.
“Would you like me to make you an omelet?” asked Moira coming in from the pantry.
“No thanks. I’ll have a croissant and coffee,” Laurel smiled at her.
“Moira’s omelets just melt in your mouth,” Mrs. Kemp told Laurel. “She could be a five star chef at some hotel.”
“That she could,” Christy endorsed coming into the kitchen through the back door. “Good morning Laurel. Luckily for me, Moira and Mrs. Kemp want to stay right here at Cupid Lodge. Excuse me while I talk to one of the guests.”
“She took me and Frank in when no one else would,” Moira looked at Christy’s vanishing back. “That meant more than any amount of money to me. I will never leave here.”
Mrs. Kemp approached Laurel as she sat in the sunny window enjoying the view. “Try these jams dear and tell me if they aren’t the best. And here’s some butter to go with it.”
Laurel opened her mouth about to refuse and then closed it. Putting everyone at ease was achieved one person at a time.
“Thanks,” she said picking up the butter knife.
“The jams are made with fruit from our orchard,” Toby said with pride. “They’re grown with all natural pesticides and fertilizers. This has been a bonanza year for fruit. My sister comes to help with the jams and jellies and bottling some of the fruit in summer.”
“You’re from Lancashire originally?”
There was a surprised look on Toby’s face and then he said, “You get that from my voice? No one has guessed that before.”
Laurel nodded, “I worked on a UN team for a year in Korea and realized I had a knack for recognizing languages and dialects. It became a kind of game in the unit getting me to state where the new arrivals were from.”
She stopped and everyone could see from the look on her face she’d just made another discovery about herself.
“What about mine?” asked Mrs. Kemp.
“Trace of Canada there.”
Mrs. Kemp nodded. “Robert and I came here when his bank transferred him to New York. We’ve moved around the States but we both loved the Tahoe area and wanted to retire here. We came here and boarded with Christy while we looked around for our own place and one day we both realized we had already found the place we’d like to live in. We didn’t need to be on our own. We needed people around us. Cupid Lodge has been the answer to our dreams.”
Mrs. Kemp had opened the three jam jars and put three teaspoons half full of jam on a plate that she handed to Laurel. “Let us know which one’s the best. There’s a competition on at Cupid Lodge to see which one gets the most votes.”
Laurel picked up some from the first spoon with the tip of her knife and put it on one end of the croissant. It was apricot jam and the minute it hit her mouth she knew she wanted more. By the second mouthful she was sure it was the best.
“Our family recipe,” Toby told her proudly, “and it’s the one my sister makes every year when she’s here.”
Next Laurel sampled the one on the middle spoon and that was a mixture of more than one fruit that teased her taste buds.
“A mix of blackberries, blueberries and raspberries,” Toby supplied the ingredients with a smile. “Moira created that combination herself this year.”
Laurel was convinced that was the best till she tried the third one. It was strawberries with a hint of something she couldn’t define. It put the other two in the shade.
“That’s Bridget’s recipe tweaked by Moira,” Mrs. Kemp stood up to get some more varieties out of the pantry. “It has a smidgen of lavender in it.”
Laurel stared at all three of the jams helplessly. Her croissant was gone.
“I can’t make up my mind.”
“Neither can the rest of us,” Mrs. Kemp’s comment made everyone laugh.
Christy came in with a journal in her hand and smiled broadly. This was going better than she’d thought. Laurel’s face as she laughed lit up and for the space of a few seconds she looked totally at ease.
Jacob paused in the kitchen doorway. He was transfixed by the laugh and the glow in Laurel’s eyes as she looked at him.
“Mind sharing the joke?” The last time she had laughed like that had been around Holt and Jacob had decided to buy a joke book.
“There’s jam judging going on here,” Mrs. Kemp announced, “and we have another puzzled judge.”
”Judging jams. Now that’s something I’m expert at. Everyone says I have a very sensitive palate and I would have made a great wine connoisseur had I chosen not to enter the medical field.” Jacob sat down at the table. Mrs. Kemp reached for three more spoons.
“Wait!” Laurel followed the request with a suggestion. “Let’s blindfold him and then he might really be able to tell us which one’s the best.”
“What a great idea,” approved Christy.
Laurel took the loosely knotted scarf from around her neck and went to stand behind Jacob’s chair. Folding her scarf into a triangle and then again till it was a band, she put it around his eyes knotting it at the back.
“Does this feel okay?” Laurel asked putting her hands up to the side of his face just as Jacob lifted his hands.
Suddenly her hands were covered by his. Laurel felt a tremor go through her. His large hands felt warm and comforting.
“ Relax Laurel. I’ll take care of you.”
The memory of the words he had said on the day they bade Uncle Paul goodbye returned.
Mrs. Kemp had all three spoons ready to go. “You feed him dear,” she suggested. “That will be easiest.”
Laurel sat down and picked up the first spoon and held it to Jacob’s mouth giving him a few minutes. He chewed a piece of bread after that to cleanse his palate and when he said, “Next,” she held the second spoon up and then the third. She couldn’t understand why such a simple act was producing the feeling she’d never done anything like this before.
After the third spoon he sat there lost in thought. Toby and the four women around the table waited for his decision.
“It’s the last one,” Jacob did not sound as sure as he had been a few minutes ago. “Or it might be the second but then the first is very good too.”
“We can see you’re an expert,” teased Christy.
They all burst out laughing as he took his bandana off and handed it to Laurel.
“What’s so funny?” Mr. Kemp came in and looked at his wife. “No one told me we were having a party this morning.”
“Jacob insists he has high taste sensitivity and he’s trying to judge the jams,” answered Laurel.
“And
apparently failing to everyone’s great amusement,” Jacob’s voice was a mock growl.
“Wait till you try the other three,” Mrs. Kemp said encouragingly.
“There’s more? I give up.” Jacob stood up. “You’ll have to find another judge. I only came to see if Laurel wanted to go out with me for awhile.”
“I do.” It would give everyone a break from her for a while. She carried their used dishes to the sink as Moira said, “Please leave them. I’m going to run the dishwasher.”
“Before you go, I have something for you to read,” added Christy quickly. “It’s the first journal. The family tree’s over the fireplace for reference if you need it.”
Laurel washed and wiped her hands and took the journal from Christy carefully. She looked at the old black leather bound book with the words Journal in gold with the letter a faded into oblivion.
“Thanks so much for sharing this,” she promised. “I’ll be really careful with it.”
“The judging will be continued tomorrow,” intoned Mr. Kemp solemnly. “Same time, same place.”
“Not by you,” Mrs. Kemp added sternly. “The doctor said you have to watch your sugar intake and you ate half a jar each last week under the pretext of judging.”
“I did it in the line of duty,” sighed Mr. Kemp. “Gratitude’s very hard to come by these days.”
“You’re permanently disqualified as a judge,” insisted Mrs. Kemp.
“Hats off to you!” Christy told Mrs. Kemp. “You made her laugh.”
Mrs. Kemp nodded, very pleased with the results she’d achieved.
“That jam judging was brilliant,” Moira added. “She actually ate that croissant. I thought she was only going to have coffee.”
“Made up on the spur of the moment,” Mrs. Kemp replaced all the jam jars on the shelf. “All except the part about you judging Robert.”
Mr. Kemp sighed. “I’m going to eat breakfast at a different time from you each morning. No one should monitor another person’s jam intake.”
Christy looked around the kitchen and felt blessed. The Kemps had taken a long time to stop being formal around the rest of them but since they’d all planned Bridget’s wedding together and relied heavily on the Kemps experience and suggestions they’d lost the last of their reserve and were now a part of the family.
