To Have and To Hold

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Ow,” Isaac replied, rubbing his arm.

  Looking amused, Dave continued, “Jenny’s other children are Carl and Emma.”

  “Carl’s three and Emma is two months old,” Greg told Mary. “They’re stil babies.”

  Beside her, Rachel held her arms up so Mary picked her daughter up and rubbed her back.

  Rachel, in turn, rested her head against Mary’s shoulders and closed her eyes. “I think she’s

  tired.” She looked at Dave. “Should I put her down for a nap?”

  “I don’t know when she usual y goes to sleep,” he told her.

  “After lunch,” Isaac said.

  Sal y shook her head and sighed. “I can’t believe your son remembers things better than you

  do, David.”

  Surprised that his sister should cal him that instead of Dave, she wanted to ask her why, but

  Jenny said, “I think Emma needs a nap, too. Mary, can I put her down to sleep in Rachel’s

  room?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mary replied, hiding her apprehension. It was unsettling to see al these

  people and know they knew her but she didn’t know them.

  “Just my luck,” Sal y mused as she looked at her daughter who was wide awake. “Laura slept

  al the way here.”

  “Probably because you were yapping the whole way,” Dave teased before he turned to Greg

  and Jeremy. “You boys want to help me pick bugs off the corn?”

  Remembering her promise to Isaac, Mary asked, “Can Isaac go with you, too?”

  Dave glanced at his son who shot him a hopeful look and nodded. “Sure.”

  Wondering why her son didn’t think he could get the same response she did when Dave so

  easily granted her request, she watched Isaac as he fol owed his father and two cousins out

  the front door.

  After they were gone, Sal y turned to Mary and smiled. “I’l wait down here and watch Carl and

  Laura while you two put the others down. Then we can have a good talk.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Mary nodded and led Jenny out of the room and up the stairs.

  “Emma is two months old?”

  Jenny cuddled her sleepy child and nodded. “Yes. I love having boys, but I was happy when I

  found out I had a girl. When I was little, I had this vision of being close to my daughter when

  she grew up. My ma always says that Sal y and I are closer to her because we’re girls. She

  loves her sons, of course, but I think women can talk more intimately than men can.”

  As they reached the top of the stairs, Mary asked, “Do they?”

  “Wel , men like to talk about their jobs when they’re together. It gets boring listening to it after

  a while, especial y if they’re al in farming. I spent a good portion of my life on a farm, and if I

  never hear about crops or animals again, I’l be very happy.”

  “Then you didn’t marry a farmer?”

  “No. I married a deputy, though he was only pretending to be one at first. Do you remember

  anything about that time?”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “I’l have to tel you about it sometime.”

  They reached Rachel’s bedroom, so Mary entered it and placed her in the crib. The breeze

  coming in through the window would make it a pleasant nap. She turned to Jenny. “Has Emma

  taken a nap here before?”

  “Once. Right after she was born, I brought her out here.”

  “Where did she sleep?”

  Jenny pointed to the bassinet in the corner of the room. “Over there.” As Jenny set Emma

  down, she glanced at Mary. “It must be scary to wake up and not remember anything.”

  Wiping her hands on the skirt of her dress, Mary softly admitted, “It is.”

  Standing up, Jenny walked over to her and took her hands in hers. “I’m sorry you’re going

  through this. We’re good friends. Sal y’s your good friend, too. And though it’s overwhelming,

  I hope you know that you can trust Dave.”

  “Yes, I sense that about him.”

  “Joel said you might get your memory back. He said the doctor thinks being surrounded by

  friends and family wil help the process along.”

  “So far al I remember is a feeling.” Blushing, Mary decided not to specify that the feeling came

  when she was in Dave’s arms the night before. Such a thing seemed too private, and she didn’t

  know what she was used to talking to Jenny about. It seemed that even if they were close

  friends, she wouldn’t mention anything that pertained to the bedroom. Clearing her throat, Mary

  squeezed Jenny’s hands. “I think it’l take a while to get my memories back.”

  “Wel , just know Sal y and I are here for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Releasing Mary’s hands, Jenny turned to the door, so Mary fol owed her. The two women

  went back down the stairs, and when they reached the parlor, Sal y was tel ing Carl that when

  he was older, he could go outside to help his uncle David in the fields.

  Mary decided now would be a good time to ask the question she’d had earlier but then forgot.

  “Why do you cal Dave ‘David’?”

  Sal y glanced up from where Carl was helping Laura walk. “Oh, I won a bet. I don’t care much

  for the name Dave.”

  Mary thought that was odd since he struck her more as a Dave than a David but chose to keep

  her opinion to herself. Instead, she looked at the two children and asked, “Would they like

  something to eat while they’re here?”

  Carl let go of Laura’s hands and ran over to her, not bothering to look back when Laura

  stumbled and fel on her bottom. “I want eat, Aunt Mary!”

  Sal y went over to her daughter and picked her up. “We don’t want to impose, Mary. You’ re

  going through a trying time.”

  “She’s right,” Jenny added. “We wanted to come over and see if we could do anything to help.”

  “I don’t mind,” Mary replied, noting the disappointment on Carl’s face. “Besides, I was about to

  do dishes, and I think I enjoy being in the kitchen.”

  With a wry grin, Sal y chuckled. “You do.” Giving a pointed look to Jenny, she added, “More

  than me and Jenny do. In fact, you’re something of a legend with how you’ve won each

  cooking contest every year since you married David.”

  “I am?” Mary asked, surprised to learn this part about herself. She knew she had fun making

  meals, but she had no idea she was good enough to win contests.

  Jenny laughed. “Poor Maureen Brown. She tries so hard to win, but you stole her spot.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary replied.

  “Don’t be. Maureen adores you. She says if she must lose to anyone, it better be to someone

  of your exceptional talent.”

  Mary glanced at Sal y who indicated Jenny was tel ing her the truth. If she remembered who

  Maureen Brown was, perhaps it wouldn’t seem so strange that she’d be happy to lose.

  “As long as you real y don’t mind making a snack, we’d love to eat something you make,” Jenny

  said.

  “Wonderful.” Mary smiled, excited by the idea of fixing them something to eat. “I’d like to try

  out one of the recipes I found in my box. I believe it’s for brown sugar candy.”

  Carl let out a whoop and ran for the kitchen.

  “That’s his not-so-subtle way of tel ing you he’d like it,” Sal y said.

  Though she grinned, Jenny rol ed her eyes. “Not-so-subtle, indeed. I have to confess that Carl

  loves coming here because you cook better than I do.”

  �
��Oh, you do fine,” Sal y protested.

  “Yes, but not as good as Mary,” Jenny said and glanced at Mary with a teasing gleam in her

  eye. “And that’s even when I use your recipes.”

  Sal y shrugged. “Some of us are better at it than others, and Mary, I have yet to find anyone

  who’s better than you.”

  Pleased by their kind words, Mary thanked them and led them to the kitchen. Maybe she didn’t

  remember them, but it didn’t take much to understand why she was friends with them. They

  were just as wonderful as her husband was, and for that, she was grateful she married into his

  family.

  Chapter Five

  Two weeks later, the July weather grew warmer and Mary made it a habit of taking Isaac and

  Rachel outside more so she could relax on the porch swing. On this particular day, she

  decided to try her hand at sewing. Sal y had shown her a simple pattern yesterday when she

  came out, and it seemed to be familiar enough to try. Eager to see if it would prompt a

  memory, she sat with the shirt Dave needed mending.

  For the moment, the children were happy. Isaac was running across the yard, looking for a

  frog to play with while Rachel was playing with her dol on the porch floor. Mary pul ed the

  thread through the needle and glanced at her daughter. The dress on the dol had the name

  Rose on it. She wondered why.

  “Rachel?” she cal ed out.

  Her daughter looked over at her.

  “Who is Rose?”

  Rachel’s eyebrows furrowed.

  Mary motioned to the dol . “On the dress is the name Rose. Who is Rose?”

  “Ros. Preddy.”

  So whoever Rose was, she was pretty. Judging by the way Rachel turned her attention back

  to the dol , she figured that was al she was going to get from her, but Rachel was only a year

  old. What else could she expect? Shrugging, she knotted the end of the thread.

  “I know what Rose is, Ma,” Isaac yel ed from the porch steps.

  Surprised he was even paying attention to what she was saying to Rachel, she asked, “Who is

  Rose?”

  “A flower. See?” He pointed to a rosebush by the porch steps. “Pa planted it for you after he

  got the house done.”

  “He did?” Wel , that was awful y sweet of him.

  “Rachel likes the roses. She says they’re pretty.”

  “Oh.” Now that made sense.

  “It’s also a name,” Isaac added.

  “Is it?”

  “If she has a sister, she wants her name to be Rose.”

  Amused, Mary’s lips curled up into a smile. “Did she tel you that?”

  “Yes. She babbles a lot, but I know what she means.”

  “I’m sure you do.” When she realized he was waiting for her to say more, she cleared her

  throat. “If you have another sister, we’l name her Rose.”

  “Be sure to give me a brother first, Ma.”

  “I’l do my best.” Even if she didn’t remember how her children were conceived, she figured

  picking the gender wasn’t under her control. But why tel him that?

  Isaac, seeming to be happy with the promise of a brother, ran off to search for a frog. Shaking

  her head, she chuckled and turned her attention back to the shirt. It looked like she only had to

  mend the front pocket. She pul ed the thread through the fabric, wondering what caused the

  tear.

  As she sewed, the glimpse of a memory came to mind. The first thing she remembered was

  feeling apprehensive, and yet, she was happy—happier than she’d ever been, if she recal ed

  the memory right. The second thing she remembered was an image of a flour sack that she

  was making into something. She wondered what it was. The last thing she recal ed was the

  smel of earth, and that particular smel wasn’t anywhere in the house. She wondered what it

  meant. If she was nervous but happy, it couldn’t be a bad memory. Of that, she was sure.

  And though she didn’t see or hear Dave anywhere in the glimpse she had, she suspected it had

  something to do with him.

  She continued to sew, holding onto the glimpse of her past as much as she could. But it slipped

  away too soon, and she was left with a restless feeling. Sighing, she pushed it aside so she

  could finish the task.

  The dog barked and she looked over her shoulder to see Dave coming out of the barn with the

  mutt. Upon seeing his father, Isaac forgot al about looking for a frog and ran over to him. The

  dog leapt around Isaac who petted him and laughed. She smiled, thinking something seemed

  familiar about the scene but unable to pinpoint what.

  With a sigh, she turned back to the pocket and pul ed the needle through the fabric to finish

  mending it. Perhaps that was how things would be for a while. She’d get feelings and

  glimpses here and there, and most of it wouldn’t make sense.

  Once her task was done, she put her things away in her sewing kit and stood up. Holding the

  dol , Rachel rose to her feet and looked up at her. From this, Mary surmised that while Isaac

  fol owed his father around, Rachel stuck with her. She opened the front door and asked, “Do

  you want to help me start lunch?”

  She stared at her as if she didn’t understand her.

  “Cook. You help me?” Mary asked.

  “Yes. Help.”

  “Wel , come on in then.” Mary opened the storm door and waited for Rachel to waddle in

  before she fol owed her into the house.

  ***

  That night as Mary tucked Isaac into bed, he looked up at her and asked, “Do you remember

  me yet, Ma?”

  Wishing she remembered more than what she had that afternoon, she sighed. “I don’t recal

  much of anything, Isaac. I did, however, get a smal piece of memory earlier today when you

  ran over to your pa and Jasper as they came out of the barn.”

  His eyes lit up. “Real y?”

  “Now, it was just a smal piece. Very smal .” There was no sense in making him believe it was

  more than it was. “And it wasn’t an actual memory to be honest. It was a feeling. I think you

  spend a lot of time with your pa. Am I right?”

  “I like to help him with chores.”

  “Then that’s what I picked up on. So, I seem to be getting things, but it’s slow and I can’t

  control when it happens. Can you be patient with me as I get my memory back?”

  “Of course, I can, Ma,” he said in a serious tone that surprised her.

  “You take your responsibilities seriously, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do. Respectabilities are important.”

  Grinning at the way he mispronounced the word, she leaned forward and kissed him on the

  forehead. “You’re a good boy, Isaac. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Ma.”

  She dimmed the light on the kerosene lamp so the room wasn’t so bright and then shut the door

  almost al the way, keeping in mind to leave it a crack open as he requested the first night she

  tucked him in. She went to the other bedroom and checked on Rachel who was fast asleep in

  the crib. Smiling, she shut the door. Even if she didn’t remember them, she did love them.

  How could she not? They were adorable. It felt as if she’d wanted children. At least, that was

  the feeling she detected whenever she looked at them.

  She went to her bedroom, closed the door, and slipped into her nightshirt once she removed

  her clothes. As she walked to the window, she studied the sky. If she judged it ri
ght, they

  were due for a storm. Since losing her memory, they’d only had one storm, and that was in the

  middle of the day. With a sigh, she enjoyed the refreshing wind as it cooled her off. Too bad

  she’d have to shut the window.

  The door opened and Dave smiled at her as he brought in the kerosene lamp which wasn’t lit.

  “If you get scared during the storm, I’l put the light on.”

  “I wasn’t scared of the storm we had a couple days ago.”

  “You don’t get scared of them during the day. You only get scared at night. You say the

  thunder reminds you of someone shooting a gun.”

  “Does it?”

  He set the lamp on the dresser. “Don’t worry about the window. I’l close it when the rain

  starts. It’s too hot to close it now. I’l be back.”

  She watched him as he left and recal ed the storm she’d been through earlier that week. There

  were strong winds, rain, and thunder, but she didn’t think it’d been that bad. The children hadn’t

  seemed alarmed by it. Her eyebrows furrowed. Would they be frightened tonight?

  She’d ask him when he returned. She settled into bed, no longer feeling the need to hide her

  body from her husband, though she hadn’t been intimate with him yet. One thing she enjoyed

  most was being held at night. It was a nice way to end the day. She rol ed to her side and

  closed her eyes, letting the wind caress her skin. Before she knew it, she fel asleep.

  She was dreaming, and in the dream came images of people. They were blurry and the

  sounds accompanying them were distorted. She couldn’t make sense of them. The only

  person she could properly identify was herself, and for some reason, when her image came into

  focus, she was looking at herself in mirrors. Different mirrors in different houses. She knew

  they were different houses because the frame around the mirrors and the wal s surrounding

  them weren’t the same. The people in the mirrors were blurred, so she couldn’t tel who they

  were. The voices weren’t familiar either except for one, but only because his was the loudest

  one. Dave. If she was right, he kept tel ing her she was beautiful.

  Then a loud boom jerked Mary awake. She gasped and sat up in the bed, her pulse racing.

  Her eyes searched the dark, wondering if someone was in the room with them, ready to shoot