by Hillary Avis
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Come on. You’re new at this, but even you know there are a million reasons memories don’t make it into a book. Maybe the murder memory is stored in some other title. Maybe the killer died. Heck, maybe she just moved out of town.”
Allison’s heart thudded. Michelle said she. There was only one person she could mean. “You think Elaine killed them?”
A smile quirked a corner of Michelle’s mouth. “I knew you’d put it together eventually.”
Allison’s chest felt tight, bursting with all the secrets she’d been keeping pent up for the past few weeks. “I knew she cut out Paul’s memories of our life together when she was the guardian. All of them. Well, not all—I found a few from when he was younger. His childhood memories are there, all the way up through high school and maybe a bit further. And she left his memory of Emily as an infant. I thought it was an accident, but now I think it was on purpose.” The words poured out, a gushing relief. “All of it was for a reason.”
Michelle nodded. “I think so, too. It’s not a coincidence that Paul and I were targeted on the same day. I was supposed to be in that tent, not Tim and Dara. I’d planned to go camping, but I gave them my site and offered to babysit Taylor at the last minute so they could relax. I was the one who should have died.” Her voice cracked at the end. She looked over at Taylor who was now sprawled out in the grass next to Willow, staring up at the sky. “She took away his parents for nothing. My son wasn’t the watcher yet. I’d waited longer than I was supposed to because I didn’t want to saddle him with the responsibility, so he didn’t know anything about the library.”
“I’m so sorry.” Allison was quiet for a minute. “Why was she trying to get rid of you, do you think?”
Michelle shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe she wanted to stay in the library longer. It must have taken her a long time to find all of Paul’s memories. Maybe longer than she thought. She may have had another goal that she didn’t get to finish before she had to turn over the library to someone else.”
Allison nodded in agreement, her mind whirring as she tried to put all the pieces—everything she’d gathered over the past few weeks and everything Michelle had revealed—together. “I think it took her the whole three years to read all the books. I’ve tried to work out the timing, and I’m pretty sure she tore out his pages on her very last night. Paul lost his memories all at once.”
“That makes sense. I didn’t watch very closely that weekend—I was distracted, obviously. I had Taylor visiting. By the time I found out his parents were—” Michelle broke off, unable to continue. “It was too late to stop any of it.”
“He’s lucky he has you,” Allison said gently. Michelle pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“I wouldn’t call it lucky. Now he’s a target, too.”
Chapter 16
Allison gripped her mug with both hands even though it was empty now. No wonder Michelle had been so worried about Taylor when he was off on his ramble. She had every reason to think that someone was out to get him. And Allison knew well how chilling it was to have Elaine after her family.
Thankfully, Taylor was fine. Nobody had hurt him. At least, not again. Not yet.
But that still didn’t explain why Elaine had targeted Paul. Had she fallen in love with him in the pages of the memory books and concocted a plan to take him for herself? First step, erase Allison from his memory, then step two, erase him from Allison’s?
Maybe Elaine had skimmed all the books and marked all Paul’s memories, but her search took longer than she thought. She needed more time in the library to finish whatever she’d started. So she tried getting rid of the watcher by staging a camping accident, but she killed the wrong person.
The wrong people.
So when she realized that Michelle was still the watcher of the library, Elaine had to turn over the guardianship to Myra and move away, leaving Taylor an orphan and Allison a memory widow. Her plan had failed.
But she hadn’t given up. She’d gone after Emily next, insinuating herself—and then her son—into Emily’s life. That had to be part of her plan, too, otherwise why leave Emily’s infancy in Paul’s memories? Elaine still wanted something—but what could it be?
It was certain that she wanted Emily and Paul to reconnect. She wanted to be there when they did. And, Allison realized suddenly, Elaine wanted something else. She wanted something in those boxes—or something that she thought might be in those boxes—the boxes that Allison had promised Emily.
“She’s coming here on Saturday,” she blurted to Michelle, who seemed lost in thought. “Elaine is.”
Michelle’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“My daughter is engaged to her son. They’re coming to visit Paul, or that’s the excuse at least. But I know it’s for another reason. She’s looking for something. I just don’t know what.”
“I do.” Michelle rubbed her forehead and pressed her fingers against her eyes. “I know exactly what she wants. I just didn’t realize she was so close.”
Allison’s breath caught. She couldn’t believe the answer had been right next door this whole time. She leaned forward in her seat, waiting. But Michelle shook her head.
“I wish I could tell you. If you weren’t the guardian, maybe...but you are, which is already a problem. My advice? Don’t give her anything. Not one thing. Taylor!” Michelle grabbed her cane and stood up abruptly, thumping the end of it on the porch to get his attention. “We need to go! You have a dentist appointment, so go brush your teeth.”
Taylor groaned, and Willow stopped gnawing momentarily to stare at him, concerned.
“Now,” Michelle said, calmly making her way down the front walk. Willow, having determined that Taylor wasn’t injured, went back to her bone.
Taylor reluctantly got to his feet and followed Michelle, but not without giving Allison another surly look as he closed the gate behind him. She’d apparently made an enemy of him. She hoped he’d forgive her once Willow found her new home and a new foster dog came to live here at the library. He’d see the dogs passing through, healing from their trauma, and then starting new lives. Over time, he’d learn what a good thing it was for everyone.
In the meantime, Allison had another puzzle to solve. If Michelle wasn’t going to point her in the right direction, she had to figure out what Elaine was after on her own. She left Willow happily occupied in the yard and went inside to tackle the second box. She still didn’t know what she was looking for, but she hoped it would be obvious.
It wasn’t.
An hour later, with random items strewn around her on the floor and the cardboard bottom of the box in plain sight, Allison was no closer to an answer than she had been on the porch. Unless Elaine wanted a Hummel figurine of a small boy fishing for a boot that had belonged to Paul’s mother or a set of Bakelite crochet hooks, there was nothing notable in the box. Nothing that seemed like a missing piece. And anyway, it was time to go to work at Golden Gardens.
She reluctantly stowed the items back in the box. Then, realizing she was still in her bathrobe with no makeup on and a severe case of bedhead, she ran upstairs and tried to make herself presentable. Thankfully, she’d bathed last night, so all the forest grime was gone. She put her hair in a quick chignon and chose a lilac top that Paul always said brought out her eyes. It couldn’t hurt to draw his attention and get a little head start on Saturday if Elaine intended to compete for his affection. Since Paul believed he’d just met both of them, Allison’s sole advantage was that Paul had fallen in love with her once before.
That had to count for something. All those years of courtship, all those years of marriage. They had to count.
But Elaine had seen every detail of their relationship in the memory books—she knew Paul from the inside out, literally. She might even know him better than Allison, who hadn’t been privy to his every thought and feeling. Her stomach twisted, and she hurried down the stairs to grab Willow’s leash. She couldn’t le
ave the dog unsupervised, not after yesterday’s escape act.
She locked the front door and clucked her tongue at Willow. “C’mere, girl. Time for work.”
Willow looked up from her bone, and Allison shook the leash. The dog looked at her bone again and back at Allison, seeming to consider her options. Then, with a noisy huff, she stood and ambled over to the porch, waiting patiently for Allison to clip the leash to her collar.
At least one thing was going right. She might be losing her whole family, but at least the dog came when she called. She felt panic rise in her chest at the thought, and she pushed it down. She had—she paused to count on her fingers—four days to figure out what Elaine was after. Four days to piece it all together. Would that be enough time?
As she and Willow made the short walk to Golden Gardens, Allison grew more and more frustrated. The situation, complicated though it was, would be a whole lot simpler if Michelle would just tell her what to look for. Her advice—don’t give Elaine anything—was hollow. Elaine was Allison’s future in-law, at least as far as Emily was concerned. She couldn’t very well refuse to turn over those boxes on Saturday. Elaine would insist, and anything Allison withheld from Elaine would jeopardize her relationship with Emily.
Maybe that was part of Elaine’s plan, too. Drive them apart.
Allison paused by the side entrance to Golden Gardens so Willow could empty her bladder one last time before they went inside. She brushed the loose hair off Willow’s coat so she wouldn’t shed as much and make more work for Myra and the rest of the staff. Of course, Willow always found new ways to apply her flyaway fur to upholstery, carpet, and clothing, so it was probably a fruitless effort.
Much like her own efforts to stymie Elaine, Allison reflected. Elaine held all the cards and she held none. And Elaine was capable of anything—even murder, if Michelle was to be believed. A shiver ran down Allison’s spine.
“There you are!” Myra stuck her head out the door. “Why are you loitering in the side yard like a smoker waiting for a light? I’ve got the whole crew rounded up for you. You better get in here before they wander off again.”
Chapter 17
After leading a sing-along to old show tunes with Willow chewing on a furry blue monster at her feet, Allison set up a few stations with a simple craft—gluing buttons onto photographs of sunflowers to represent the seeds. Then she circulated around the activity tables, doling out more buttons to those who ran out and chatting with the residents. Willow stayed by the sofas, tail thumping, to receive pets from the residents who weren’t interested in crafting.
“Whoopsie daisy,” Allison said, stopping by Lilian’s chair to adjust the glue bottle in her hand. It’d turned in Lilian’s grasp so the glue was dispensing underneath her palm rather than onto the sunflower.
“It’s a sunflower, not a daisy,” Lilian admonished, staring at her sticky wrist. Across from her, Paul smirked and then gave Allison a wink. He wasn’t gluing anything, just watching her, his sunflower picture untouched on the tabletop in front of him.
She couldn’t help the blush that rose in her cheeks. He still made her heart beat a little faster when he looked at her, just like he had when she was twenty-one and learning to make pumpernickel rye in the bakery, watching him shape loaves with a touch that was both gentle and firm. Paul crooked a finger at her, grinning, and she went around the table to his side.
“Do you need more buttons?” she asked awkwardly, proffering her jar of extras, even though she knew the answer was no. She felt like she was in middle school, blushing and stammering. What happened to her resolution to treat him like every other resident when she was on the clock?
He shook his head. “Can you do me a favor?”
She nodded automatically. She’d do anything for him—everything, if need be. Of course, he didn’t know that.
“I’d like to, you know, look nice when Emily visits.” He glanced down at his outfit. It was fine—comfortable jersey lounge pants and a soft polo shirt—but Paul didn’t seem to think much of it. He plucked at the hem of his shirt. “Can you get me something to wear? It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something that doesn’t look like pajamas would be nice.”
“Don’t you have a suit in your closet?” Allison asked, thinking of the one he wore to Emily’s graduation a few days before.
Paul made a face. “I don’t want to look like her boss. I want to look like her dad. It’s bad enough that she has to visit me here. I don’t want her to think I’m a doddering old man who has to wear stretchy pants.”
“Don’t look now,” Allison said, nudging him with her elbow. When he opened his mouth to protest, she shut him up with a wink of her own. “Nothing wrong with doddering old men,” she chided. “Some of my favorite people are—”
Lilian squawked and Allison broke off before she could finish the thought. The top had popped off Lilian’s glue bottle, flooding her flower with sticky glue. Lilian put down the now half-empty bottle, and looked at her paper in disgust. Then tears welled up and her chin began to quiver. “Who put this ugliness in front of me? Who would do that?”
“It was just an accident,” Allison said quickly. She grabbed a few Kleenex from a nearby box and dammed the flow of glue toward the edge of the table, then waved down Myra. “We need some cleanup over here! Glue emergency.”
Myra moved swiftly to the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels and a wet cloth. She handed the roll to Allison. “I got your back, baby girl.”
“You always do.” Allison scooped up as much of the glue as she could and then swapped for the wet cloth to get up the last bit of it off the table. She scooped Lilian’s ruined picture into a nearby waste basket. “There we go. All better.”
Lilian turned her face up, distress lining her forehead even more than usual. “Why’d you do that?” she quavered. “That was mine!”
Myra leaned over and gave her a hug. “Oh, Ms. Lilian, that one was being obstinate. We’ll get you a new flower.”
“You can have mine.” Paul pushed his paper across the table.
Myra scooped his pile of buttons toward Lilian, too. “See? Now you can make this one beautiful.”
Lilian patted Myra’s cheek adoringly. “You, you, you. I just met you, and I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Myra said, giving the elderly woman’s shoulder a squeeze. You could tell she meant it. She hadn’t bothered to correct Lilian and tell her she’d been her caregiver for years. She just dispensed the best medicine—unconditional acceptance and love.
Everyone needed that, especially here, where everyone existed in the lonely fog of memory loss. They were all loved by their families, but they didn’t always feel that way. Even Paul, who at least now had regained a small sense of his family, was worried his clothes might get in the way of Emily’s acceptance and love. He had no idea that the person who loved him the most was standing right next to him.
A lump caught in Allison’s throat and she fought against the tears that threatened to spill over. Paul sensed her upset and reached out to touch her arm. “You OK?”
She nodded and choked out, “I’ll bring you some khakis.” That was as close as she could get to I love you under the circumstances.
LATER, IN THE YELLOW industrial kitchen, Allison helped Myra portion food onto the lunch trays.
“You know your shift is up,” Myra said reprovingly. “You aren’t getting paid for scooping these taters. It’s a bad habit, working for free.”
“I know.” Allison ducked her head. “I am just putting off going home.”
“Chores waiting on you?”
“Sort of. Paul asked me to bring him some dressy clothes. You know, for Emily’s visit on the weekend.”
“That’s nice, isn’t it? He wants to look good for the in-laws. Do you have his clothes at home or are you buying new?”
“His clothes are in storage. It’s no big deal. Just more boxes to go through. I’m a little tired of unpacking boxes.” Allison smiled ruefully, thinking of
the two boxes in her entryway that still demanded her attention. Just what she needed, more time wasted rummaging through dusty old junk that she probably should have sold at a yard sale, anyway. She paused mid-scoop, her hand poised above the tub of mashed potatoes.
Maybe she could follow Michelle’s advice after all. Instead of refusing to hand over the boxes of family heirlooms to Emily, she could hand over different boxes, filled with things she knew weren’t what Elaine was looking for.
No Rye family heirlooms. Instead, bits and bobs that Allison had picked up at thrift shops and garage sales over the years. Some of them were packed away in the storage with Paul’s clothes and golf clubs—the stuff she thought they’d use again, back when she had hope that his brain would heal and his memories would return. But now that she knew his memories were gone forever, she didn’t need to hang onto all the pieces of their old life. They could get new salt shakers shaped like ears of corn, if they really wanted them.
And Emily, who was the kind of person who liked her underwear to match her bra, probably wouldn’t even use the mismatched pieces. She’d accept them grudgingly, then stick them in a closet somewhere and only drag them out when Allison came to visit. Elaine wouldn’t be able to argue that they were the “wrong” heirlooms, either. All of the pieces had been in circulation during Emily’s childhood. If Allison said they came from Paul’s family, Emily wouldn’t even know the difference. Elaine might have seen something in Paul’s memories. But she couldn’t play that card, not in front of Emily, anyway.
Myra swiped the scoop out of Allison’s hand. “I guess we get what we pay for. Go on, get out of here,” she said, chuckling.
With an apologetic grimace, Allison ducked out into the activity room and called Willow, who was rolling around on the mat in front of the sliding glass doors, much to the delight of the residents gathered around her. Willow quickly hopped to her feet, shaking off a cloud of fur, and galloped to Allison.
