Remember My Love

by Elise Dee Beraru

  He must meet her. He looked down at Joshua and an idea formed. It would be worth $2.00 for a half-hour with this nymph.

  Susannah finished her current project and looked up at the lean, towering figure standing before her. Her amber gaze met eyes smoldering like a storm cloud. A jolt of electricity from deep within her forced her upright. Her breath quickened as she took in the slender frame, firm jaw, midnight hair and aquiline nose. He was dressed in a black frock coat, dark gray striped trousers and vest. His shirt was of spotless, white, finest cotton shirting, flawlessly starched, with a gray silk paisley bow tie. He wore a top hat, which added to his already impressive height.

  My God, Susannah thought, he looks just like Brian!

  Instinctually she looked at his ungloved hands. Large, white, city hands. His left hand was clapped on the shoulder of a small boy who looked like a miniature of him. His right hand--with a slight sigh she saw the hand was whole; on the little finger was a gold signet ring.

  "Sketch your portraits, sir? Only one dollar each," she said huskily, as if the words were in a foreign language and had never before been uttered.

  "What do you think, Joshua? You game?" said a gentle voice to the little boy.

  The child nodded.

  Stephen sat on the chair behind the easel and lifted Joshua onto his lap. Stephen took off his topper and laid it on the floor beside him. The light reflected off his shiny hair like black moiré.

  Susannah's right hand was shaking slightly. She steadied it with her left. It was not Brian Strange, but whoever the man was could easily be a relative. The resemblance was that close, as was the child's.

  "You have a handsome son, sir," she commented.

  Stephen grinned. "I knew this was bound to happen. Actually he's my brother's boy."

  "Then do you want a separate sketch of him from the one of you? It's the same price either way," she added hastily.

  "Probably an excellent idea." Twice the time to look at you, to imagine being even closer to you. Stephen took off Joshua's hat and brushed a quick hand through his black curls.

  That domestic little gesture shattered Susannah. How many times had she seen Brian do just that to Beatrice's hair? Nibbling on her lip, she began to concentrate on sketching the child.

  "Have you been doing this long?" Stephen asked.

  Mostly concentrating on her work, Susannah responded, "Uh-huh. I've been drawing forever, but I've only been in San Francisco for a few weeks."

  "Oh? Where are you from?"

  "Wyoming. My sister and I have a farm there."

  A farm girl. That would explain her hands. I wouldn't have it any other way.

  "Why San Francisco? It seems a far cry from Wyoming."

  "We're looking for my brother-in-law. He was last seen heading for here." She looked up. "His picture's pinned to my easel. Maybe you've seen him."

  Stephen saw the paper, but could not discern the likeness. "It's at a bad angle. Remind me to look at it when you're done. What's your name?"

  "Susannah Stoddard."

  "I'm Stephen Carroll. And this is my nephew, Joshua Carroll."

  "Joshua Leval," protested the little boy.

  "Joshua Leval Carroll," Stephen conceded. "Joshua just arrived here today from Milwaukee."

  Susannah looked up again. "You came here from Milwaukee all by yourself?" she said, impressed. "That's even farther than Wyoming."

  "No, Mrs. Fairchild came with me, but she's going home," replied the boy. "I'm going to live with my daddy now."

  To Stephen she said, "You can tell me it's none of my business, but did his mother pass away?"

  "How did you know?"

  "I just can't imagine sending a child two thousand miles with a stranger if his mother is still alive."

  "Uncle Stephen says my mommy is with the angels now and she's not sick anymore."

  "That's right, honey. My Ma and Pa aren't sick anymore either. I wasn't much older than you when my mother died." To Stephen she continued, "If it weren't for my sister, I don't know how we'd have managed. She held us together."

  Susannah finished the sketch of Joshua and set to work on one of Stephen. Her pencil seemed to be bewitched, as if something she was feeling inside was manifesting on the vellum. The simple pencil sketch seemed as alive as its subject. The last sketch that had this much life was one she did back in Wyoming of Brian lying on her bed in the main room with Beatrice lying sleeping on his chest while he read.

  Finished, she handed the sketches to Stephen. "Two dollars, please."

  "These are fine," Stephen commented as he paid her, then looked more closely at the portrait of him. It was stunning. He stared at her. This was no cheap sketch by a street corner artist. It looked like the expression of a lover. "More than fine. Outstanding."

  Forcing his heart to calm down, he turned to Susannah and said, "We were just going to get some lunch. Would you care to join us?"

  I shouldn't, thought Susannah, but God knows I want to. "If you care to wait while I shut down."

  I'd wait for you forever, thought Stephen. "Let me help."

  As he approached the easel, he saw the sketch of Brian Strange. His mouth dropped open as his mind flashed back to a vision of five weeks ago when a man with those looks collapsed into his arms in his entry hall.

  "This is your brother-in-law?" he said tightly. "What's his name?" She had not recognized his last name when he introduced himself. Carroll was unusual enough a last name that it should have been familiar to anyone who knew Blair well.

  "Brian Strange. That's not his real name. We made it up for him because he couldn't remember his real one. It's kind of complicated to explain. Good-looking fellow, isn't he?"

  Stephen frowned slightly. Strange. Where have I heard the last name Strange recently? Aloud, he commented, "Looks dangerous. Like a desperado."

  Susannah giggled. "That's just because his hair is long and shaggy, I reckon. Looks can be deceiving, though. A kinder, gentler man I never met in my life. And such a loving father. Seeing you with your nephew reminds me of Brian with Bea. That's my niece. She's very sweet. Her coloring is very much like your nephew's."

  Not surprising, considering they're probably brother and sister, Stephen realized. But it sure doesn't sound like Blair she's talking about.

  "Seems kind of funny that someone you describe that way would abandon his wife and child." That did not sound like something Blair Carroll would do either. Even if he was in a marriage he despised, Stephen could not imagine Blair walking out and leaving a wife and baby with no means of supporting themselves.

  "That day was very confusing. There was an accident. He was hurt. Kicked in the head by a horse. I saw most of it happening, but couldn't do anything to help. I don't think he knew what he was doing, but the man at the depot said someone matching his description bought a ticket for San Francisco, so we packed up our bags and followed his trail. Unfortunately, the trail came to a dead end here. Nobody remembers seeing anyone fitting Brian's description get off the train in San Francisco. It's as if he disappeared off the face of the earth."

  As they walked out of the terminal, Stephen noticed Susannah was limping.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "Oh, no," she replied, "I'm crippled." She raised her skirt slightly. "Club foot. I was born that way."

  She looked at his face for any sign of revulsion. It wasn't there.

  "Does it hurt?"

  "Actually, my foot and ankle really never hurt much. But if I walk a lot my knee and hip ache something fierce. And I can't do really heavy farm work. My only regret about it is that I could never learn to dance. It would have been nice to go to dances," she added sadly.

  Stephen and Lopez, the driver, loaded Susannah's things into the boot of the carriage, along with Joshua's pathetic little carpetbag. They went to a local family restaurant.

  "...SO WHAT ARE you and your sister going to do?" Stephen continued the conversation while they ate.

  "You mean about finding him? I really don't know.
I guess we'll keep looking until we run out of money. We're both working, so we can hold on for a while."

  "Has your sister heard anything?"

  "If she has, she hasn't told me, but the last few weeks she's been working twenty hours a day at her job. She gets home so tired that she falls dead asleep. I doubt I've said five words to her in days."

  "Tell me the truth. Do you think he's still alive?"

  "I have to think that. I think we'd both go mad if I didn't. He's a good man and they were so much in love."

  "How long were they married?"

  "A little over a year and a half. May will be two years. He lived with us for six months before they got married."

  That would be November `73. It's too uncanny to be coincidence, Stephen thought. She has to be talking about Blair.

  "I've been thinking about it. I may know someone who might have some information. Do you think I could meet your sister? Maybe you and she could join me for dinner, say tomorrow night."

  Susannah smiled, "I'd love to. I'll try to get her to come along." Suddenly, her smile faded, "Oh, maybe not."

  "What's the problem?"

  Susannah swept her hands down from shoulders to hips. "I'm just a farm girl. I don't have any really fancy clothes. And my prettiest dress is a ball gown compared to anything Sissy has."

  "What does she wear to work?"

  "White waist and dark skirt; very practical--kind of like she is."

  "Fine. I'll take you someplace where it doesn't matter. Have you ever had Chinese food?"

  "No. Is it good?"

  "I like it. And it'll be fun to teach you to eat with chopsticks. Just make sure you convince your sister to join us. I wouldn't want a scandal."

  "Scandal?"

  "Yeah," Stephen said with a laugh, "I can see the headline now: `Well known San Francisco attorney in tête-à-tête with Wyoming farm girl.' It could ruin your reputation."

  "Of course, if it read: `San Francisco attorney seen dining alone with artiste' it could make my reputation instead."

  Soon they were both laughing heartily. Suddenly, Stephen leaned over and kissed Susannah quickly on the lips. She pulled back, touching her fingers to her lips in wonder. Her gaze met his.

  "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry," Stephen spit out.

  "Don't be. I'm not," came the surprising reply.

  Smart and pretty. Just what I always dreamed of.

  People don't really fall in love at first sight, do they?

  STEPHEN DROVE Susannah home in his carriage. "Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock."

  "We'll be ready," she said, waving at him as Lopez drove the carriage away. She carried her gear up the stoop into the boarding house where she put it all into the front hall closet.

  Mrs. O'Bannion was wiping her hands on her apron as Susannah came into the kitchen, as close to dancing as she was capable.

  "You're in a good mood, Susannah. Did you have a good day?" asked the landlady.

  Susannah threw her arms around Beatrice, who was playing in her cradle. "Yes, I had a wonderful day. Don't tell Adele, but I just met the man I'm going to marry."

  BACK IN THE carriage, Joshua was looking tired. Stephen looked at him.

  "Did you have a nice day, Joshua?"

  "Yes, Uncle Stephen. That was a nice lady."

  "Yes indeed she is." Then he whispered, "Don't tell your daddy when you meet him, but I'm going to marry that very nice lady."

  JOSHUA DIDN'T tell his father, because he was long ago tucked in his bed in the nursery and fast asleep when Blair, more than the worst for whisky, came lurching into the house at one that morning.

  Trying as hard as possible not to make any noise, Blair was of course noisier than his pickled brain convinced him. He lumbered upstairs and was almost past the open office door when an angry voice assailed him.

  "Do you know what time it is?"

  Grabbing the doorsill, Blair hung in the doorway. His eyes were rheumy and his tie and half his vest buttons were undone.

  "Who gives a damn? You're not my father."

  "No, I'm your goddamned brother." Stephen sat in a wing chair, a barely-touched tumbler of whisky balanced between his palm and the chair arm. "I'm the man who had to put your son to bed and try to explain to him why his father didn't care enough to come home and meet him."

  "Seems to me you took on that responsibility on your own. I didn't ask you to fetch him."

  "You're completely soused. That's what that kid needs, a hungover welcome in the morning."

  Blair glanced at the chair arm where Stephen held a full tumbler of whisky. "That's the pot calling the kettle black."

  "This is the only one I've poured and I've been sitting here for hours trying to convince myself to drink this damn thing. I couldn't get angry enough to do it."

  "Fine." Blair lurched over to the chair, grabbed the tumbler from Stephen's fingers and downed it himself. "Now you don't have to convince yourself."

  "Sometimes it amazes me that we could have been raised in the same house. You disgust me, Blair."

  "Look, I didn't tell that actress to get pregnant."

  "No, your tongue wasn't the organ that did the persuading."

  "I'll do my duty by the kid, but don't expect me to like it or him. What possible use would I have for the prattle of children? About the only thing worse is listening to women chattering. But I'm not worried; he'll have his Uncle Stephen to spoil him rotten."

  "And to think I just heard you described today as the kindest, gentlest man someone ever met." Stephen laughed bitterly. "And a wonderful father, too. Ha! I guess appearances can be deceiving. Good night, big brother." Then Stephen stormed out of the office, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

  Blair settled heavily in the wing chair. He frowned. Who could he have been a father to that someone would have said that of him? "Who would have told him that?" were his last words before he passed out in the chair. The next morning, he woke up where he had fallen asleep, remembering that he had argued with Stephen but with absolutely no memory of the content of the argument.

  The dark-haired woman came again to him in his dream, weeping into her hands, her long hair sweeping over her before she disappeared. He never saw her face, but then he never did.

  Who was she? Blair was not sure he wanted to know.

  Chapter 13

  "SUSANNAH, I CAN'T go to dinner tonight," Adele declared. "This is the first time I haven't had to work into the night in weeks. Give your young man my regrets."

  Susannah was dressed in her sprigged muslin birthday dress. She had put her hair up and curled the ends into ringlets that fell past her shoulders. Adele could not help noticing that her little sister was becoming a grown woman.

  "Sissy, he insisted," Susannah countered. "He's a real gentleman and insisted on meeting you and on our being chaperoned. Besides, he said he might have some information on Brian for you."

  This maybe was the first lead Susannah had managed in all the time they had been in San Francisco. Considering Adele already knew what had become of Brian, she was suspicious of any clues her sister's gentleman friend might know.

  "Are you sure this fellow knows anything? It could be a trick of some kind."

  "I don't know, but he said maybe. If he meant me harm, why would he have insisted that you accompany us tonight?"

  "You have a point. All right, I'll go with you. After all, I've never had Chinese food either."

  Adele reached into the closet for her plaid skirt and a clean blouse and laid them on the bed. She unbraided her hair and brushed it out. From braiding it wet, its normally straight length fell in crimped waves to her knees. Having smoothed out the hair at her crown, she rebraided it and pinned it around her head in a coronet.

  Before dressing, she nursed Bea and put her to bed for the night. Bea had a couple of teeth now and it was becoming a little bit painful to nurse, even once per day, but Adele needed the closeness of the ritual. Her first birthday would be time enough to stop. That was only a coupl
e of months away.

  As the clock struck eight, Susannah was buttoning up the back of Adele's shirtwaist. "I'll meet you downstairs," she said, grabbing their cloaks and floating downstairs.

  Adele was as anxious as if this was her date instead of Susannah's, but then, she had never been courted herself and this was all new to her. "Oh, Ma, would I be in this position if you'd lived longer?" she prayed aloud.

  She bent down to kiss the sleeping Beatrice and headed downstairs. Mrs. O'Bannion had promised to look in on the baby periodically during the evening.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she held out her hand to Susannah's beau. "I'm Susannah's sister, Adele Strange."

  The young man turned. Adele paled and her knees gave out from under her. She was kept from falling by two strong arms holding her up.

  "Yes, Mrs. Strange. It's Stephen Carroll. It took me a bit to make the connection after I met Susannah this morning. We have a lot to talk about, I should think."

  IN THE DARKLY lit Chinese restaurant, Stephen told the waiter to surprise them and then taught them how to use chopsticks to pick up the meat, vegetables and rice. They laughed at their clumsy efforts at first, but soon became proficient.

  During dinner, the three became better acquainted with each other and with the history of events as each perceived them.

  "It's obvious that Blair has absolutely no memory of anything that happened from the time he was robbed until he showed up at our house six weeks ago. It's as if someone cut a hole in his brain and took the entire period out. I wonder if it's retrievable," said Stephen.

  "When Brian--um--Blair was living with us, he used to have dreams. He used to see dark rooms with heavy leather furniture. Sometimes he would see a man whom from his descriptions would seem to be you, although he didn't recognize you. Is he having dreams now?"

  "If he is, he won't tell me. But then it hasn't been his way to confide in me in personal matters in years. He seems more distracted than before, but when I asked him what was going on with him he said it was none of my damned business."