by Hillary Avis
“You read the memory of Emily being born in the books, remember? And at the end of that memory, you looked over toward the hospital bed. That’s where I was, before Elaine ripped the rest of the memory out. If it had been one second longer, one sentence longer, you’d have seen my face. I know you don’t remember what happened next, but I do. We chose her name then, after your grandmother.”
“Gram’s name was Emily,” he said, his face smoothing as he remembered the woman who’d been his babysitter and closest confidante as a child. But then his expression closed again. He’d thrown up his guard. “But this page isn’t like the one I read. It doesn’t play like a movie, so it could just be made-up.”
He handed the page back, and she took it, holding it loosely between her fingers. She could feel it there, whisper-thin and wobbling, in danger of being swept away in the slightest breeze.
“That’s because this page isn’t in the books. Maybe I can reattach it, though. Can you wait a few days while I try to find where it belongs? I promise, if I can’t put it back in the right place, I’ll tell Emily everything. I’ll give her the pen.” I’ll give up any chance of returning your memories to your mind. That was the real price. Her heart squeezed as she waited for him to reply.
He searched her face as though he might find some clue there, some hint of truth. Finally, he gave a single nod, and Allison let out a relieved breath. She folded the page and tucked it safely into the inner pocket of her purse.
She stood and looped her arm through his, an old familiar gesture. He froze, and her heart plummeted. But he didn’t jerk his arm away, and an instant later he relaxed, and they walked that way, together, the few blocks down Riverview to Golden Gardens. He paused at the front door, a question on his face.
“What is it?” she prodded.
“We’re still...?” He looked down at her hand on his forearm, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze.
“Married?” she asked lightly. When he nodded, a wave of hope and fear threatened to take out her knees. She clung to him to stop herself from turning into a puddle right there on the steps. “Paul, the day you lost your memories, we were more in love than the day we said our wedding vows.”
He brushed his hand across his face, rasping the silver stubble on his chin. “I wish I felt—I can’t—I’m sorry.”
She let go of his arm and faced him. He could hardly look at her, but she waited until he made eye contact so he could see how deeply she meant her words. “It’s OK. I know. Once I get your pages back and you can remember everything, you’ll see what we had. What we have.”
Chapter 3
Sunday
“Sorry, one sec!” Myra checked her phone for what must have been the tenth time since they sat down at their usual outdoor table at the Feast and Flower restaurant. Once a greasy spoon that specialized in late-night doughnuts for truck drivers, the restaurant and its surrounding parking lot had been transformed by the new owners into an outdoor patio and lush organic garden. Allison had a standing date with her good friends Kara and Myra for Sunday brunch, and every time they ate there, she was again impressed by the bounty of flowers and produce that spilled from raised planters beside them and hung from the pergola above.
Myra tucked her phone into the front pocket of her emerald green scrubs and gnawed her lip pensively.
“Was that Crystal?” Kara asked. She leaned down and dropped a crumb of buttered toast under the table for her little Yorkie, Pogo. He pounced on it and gobbled it up, and Kara giggled. Allison couldn’t help smiling. When Kara was in her police uniform, she was stern and all business, but off duty, her playful, free-spirited personality really shone, especially when she was with her dog.
Myra nodded. “She just had another one. You think we should go?” This question was directed at Allison. Myra’s daughter, Crystal, was overdue with her third child, and this morning she’d had a few contractions. Allison was on the docket to babysit Crystal’s two little ones while Myra was at the hospital as labor coach, since Crystal’s husband, Isaac, was deployed with the Army Reserve. Her overnight bag was already packed and in the backseat of her car.
“Are they close together and regular?”
Myra shook her head. “Not yet. Thirty minutes since the last one.”
“Could just be Braxton Hicks, then. We can finish our drinks, at least.” Allison smiled reassuringly at Myra, who checked her phone again, sighed, and then clutched it to her chest with one hand as she finished her food with the other.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Kara downed the last half of her apricot Bellini and then flagged down the waitress for a refill.
“Don’t you have to work?” Allison asked.
Kara nodded. “That’s why I’m having another one. I need fortification for my shift.”
Myra made a face. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” Kara’s new drink arrived, and she took a long sip, then smacked her lips approvingly. “Leroy’s hanging around my office every day, and you know how much he loves giving me grief. Hopefully it’ll be better once they get Elaine Kirkpatrick moved to county lockup.” Leroy Gauss was the county sheriff who liked to put his nose in everyone’s business. He seemed to have taken a special dislike to Kara, but that wasn’t what interested Allison. It was the news about Elaine.
“They’re moving her?”
Kara nodded. “Since I’m a material witness in her case, I’m not allowed to supervise her detention. That’s why Leroy’s always looking over my shoulder. He’s supposed to assign a deputy to watch her—or watch me, depending on how you look at it. But he prefers to do it himself. He literally keeps track of everything I do. He has hash marks in his notebook for every time I go to the restroom.”
Myra’s mouth dropped open and for a moment it seemed she’d forgotten all about her phone. “That’s harassment!”
“That’s Leroy.” Kara stared into her drink, swirling the bubbly, golden liquid with the striped paper straw.
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of treatment,” Myra insisted. “What’s he so wound up about?”
Kara shrugged. “He wants me out so he can run the town, I guess. He’s looking for anything he can report to the city council. I think he’s hoping they’ll let him run the office instead of having a city employee. Anyway, once Elaine’s gone, I’ll be free.”
“When are they moving her?” Allison asked, trying to keep her voice casual, even though inside she was panicking. The county jail was in Salem, and once Elaine was transferred there, her memories would no longer be stored in the magic library. Allison would lose any window into what Elaine was thinking or doing—and the chances that Elaine would beat the charges against her rose astronomically.
“Not sure. Depends on the paperwork. Let’s hope sooner rather than later, or I might as well start sending out resumes now.” Kara blew out a breath, sending her dark, highlighted hair flying away from her face.
Myra chuckled at Kara’s mopey expression. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. He can’t find fault with you if you just keep your head down and do your job.” Her phone pinged and she flipped it over to check it again. Her breath caught. “She had another one!”
Allison checked the time. “Fifteen minutes this time. That’s a lot closer together.”
Myra’s chair scraped back as she grabbed her purse from under the table. “We should go. You want to follow me out there?”
Allison looked regretfully at her half-full cup of coffee, then back at Myra, who was practically shooting sparks of excitement out of her big brown eyes. She tossed a twenty on the table and stood up. “I guess it’s time. Will you be OK, Kara?”
Kara waved them off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just be here alone, drinking my feelings.”
“You’re not alone; you have Pogo!” Allison pointed at him, and he wagged his tail eagerly. “Forget the two of us—dogs are the best company, anyway.”
Kara patted her lap and Pogo jumped up on it. She smiled crookedly at the little dog in her
lap. “I’d be lost without him, that’s for sure. Go on, I’ll take care of the check.”
Allison grinned at her, then jogged to catch up with Myra, who was power walking, elbows pumping, to her beat-up old farm truck, her phone pressed to her ear.
“Yes. Mhm. I already lined up Julio to fill in for me. Just call him.” Myra covered the phone and glanced at Allison. “You scheduled today?” Allison shook her head and Myra got back on the line to wrap up her call to Golden Gardens. “OK, great. I’ll let you know.”
“How much family leave are you taking?” Allison asked when Myra hung up the phone.
“Just a week. Crystal should be back on her feet by then.” Myra flattened her mouth to a thin line, worry creasing her forehead as she swung open the door of her truck. “Let’s hope so, anyway. I don’t know how much more time I can afford to take, at least not until the hazelnut harvest is in.” That wouldn’t be until the end of September, a season away.
Allison slung an arm around Myra’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “Hey. It’s going to be fine. Anything you or Crystal need, I’ll be there. Babysitting, chores, whatever.”
Myra hugged her back, tight and fierce, then dropped her arms and shook out her shoulders to relieve her tension. “Right now, we need to get out to that farm!”
Allison saluted and followed Myra’s truck in the new-to-her Honda Civic that she’d bought with her first Golden Gardens paycheck. It was funny; she made less money per week as a part-time enrichment coordinator than it cost to house Paul there, but the proceeds from the sale of their bakery, the Ryes & Shine, would cover his rent for a while, and she could survive on her own meager salary as long as she didn’t get tired of eating peanut butter and homemade bread. And who’d get tired of those two things, especially in combination?
Myra ignored the speed limit once they left town and turned north onto Route 247, and Allison had to quit daydreaming to keep up as they whizzed down the road, sandwiched between the bright hayfields to the west and the dark forests of the Timber Falls wilderness to the east. A few minutes down the road and they made the sharp left into the gravel drive of the Pattersons’ filbert farm.
Crystal was waiting on the porch for them, three-year-old Nia bouncing in her lap while toddler Jaden babbled and banged a rubber elephant on the upper rail of a playpen that was set up behind her. Crystal stood up when they pulled in, wincing as she awkwardly lifted Nia to her hip.
“You OK, baby?” Myra asked as she got out of her truck, rushing over to take Nia away from her. Nia took one look at Allison and burrowed her face in Myra’s neck. Myra patted her back and made a soft shushing sound as she danced around, bouncing the little girl. “That’s Mrs. Rye. She’s going to take care of you and Brother while Mama and Big Mama go and get the new baby. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like we’re going to the baby supermarket,” Crystal said wryly. She winced and leaned against the porch post, rubbing her lower back. “Oof. I forgot how much this hurts.”
Nia lifted her head from Myra’s neck and craned to look at her mother. “Mama OK? Mama need a Band-Aid?”
Myra cuddled her, laughing softly. “A Band-Aid won’t fix this one, sweet girl.”
Crystal blew out a long breath and let go of the post, the contraction apparently over. She chucked Nia on the chin. “Mama’s fine, little one. You are going to have so much fun while I’m gone, too. Your first sleepover! You be good for Mrs. Rye.”
In his little playpen, Jaden blew a raspberry and waved his arms, and Allison dipped down to pick him up. He pumped his sturdy little legs eagerly, rocking in her arms, his tight curls a halo around his angelic face. He was walking already, but only in the most rudimentary sense. Careening was a better word.
“Let’s get going before another one hits,” Myra said. “You got your bag all packed?”
Crystal nodded and shuffled inside. She reappeared with an overstuffed duffel bag in one hand and an infant car seat in the other. She planted a kiss on one of Nia’s chubby cheeks and Myra kissed the other.
“Be good,” she admonished the little girl as she set her down on the porch. “Mind Mrs. Rye.”
“I’ll take good care of them,” Allison said to Crystal, whose eyes were welling up as she stood there with her hands full, unable to wipe away her tears. Myra did it for her, dabbing beneath her daughter’s eyes with Jaden’s baby blanket.
“It’s going to be good grandma practice for you.” She grinned over her shoulder at Allison as she took the car seat from Crystal and helped her to the truck. “Call me if you have any trouble with the chores. I left a list on the fridge with everything you need, though.”
“Good luck!” Allison called as the truck doors slammed. She kneeled down next to the playpen. “Wave to Mama and Big Mama!” She shook Jaden’s chubby fist while the truck pulled out, Nia standing uncertainly beside her in her pink shorts and a Tiana shirt, her tiny feet bare on the painted porch floor. It’d been a while since she’d cared for kids this small. What did they even like to do?
“Ba!” Jaden said, and bopped her on the side of the head with his elephant toy.
“Good idea. Let’s go play.” Allison reached a hand out to Nia, and she took it shyly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine.”
Chapter 4
Monday
The list Myra left was longer than Allison anticipated. No wonder she and Crystal were worn thin. After an evening of cleaning peas off the floor, running bubble baths, and reading bedtime stories, Allison was more exhausted than she’d been when Emily was a newborn. Two kids was a totally different thing than one, that was for sure. The evidence of that was all around Myra’s house, which, while spotlessly clean, was also cluttered on every surface with toys, books, and reminder notes.
Thankfully the little ones slept through the night, but Allison woke up every couple of hours, anyway, every time Myra’s text-message updates buzzed in.
“Crystal’s struggling. Says it’s a lot harder this time.”
“Epidural. She’s tired.”
“They’re saying C-section if she doesn’t progress in the next couple hours.”
She couldn’t sleep after that one. Grateful for whoever figured out that coffee was worth drinking, Allison sent good luck wishes back to Myra and Crystal and consulted the list. She couldn’t control what was happening at the hospital, but she could make sure that they came back to a farm that was running smoothly.
How do you feed and milk the goats at six a.m. when you have two toddlers under four years old to wrangle at the same time? Answer: you strap the baby into the backpack and chase the toddler around when she lets go of your hand to make a dash for the litter of puppies in the barn.
“Nia, come on, it’s milking time.” Allison stretched out a hand to lead her to the back of the barn where the milking stand was set up and the goats were already complaining. But Nia shook her head stubbornly, her two pigtails waving like a pair of antennae.
She pointed at the stall where the puppies whined and yipped behind the door. “Them sad. Them want Nia.” She patted her chest, and Allison melted. She had no doubt that those puppies did want their little girl. They wanted something, that was for sure.
She leaned over the stall door to check on them before she unlatched it, figuring she’d clean the whelping box and let Nia have a few minutes of snuggle time before she attended to the goats. Four fat, yellow puppies in different-colored collars bumbled around like potatoes with stubby legs, nipping and pawing each other, but there was no sign of the mama dog, Jenny. She was probably out stretching her legs and taking a break from the taxing work of motherhood. Myra’s list had mentioned the puppies were weaning, so Jenny might be purposely spending more time away from her litter.
The puppies whimpered when she and Nia approached. Nia stooped and gleefully scooped up the one in the red collar with both arms, grunting as she lifted it up. The pup licked her face until, giggling, she gently set it back down. She wiped her chin with
the back of her hand matter-of-factly before moving down the line and doing the same thing to the one with a blue collar. This kid was definitely a dog person.
Jaden babbled on Allison’s back and patted her shoulder. She felt him lean in the baby carrier as he tried to get a better view of Nia and the puppies. “You want to pet one, too?” she asked him. She picked the puppy in a green collar up and held it above her shoulder, but far enough away that he couldn’t accidentally poke it in the eye.
“Dah!” he said, patting her shoulder again.
“That’s right, it’s a dog! Do you want to give it a gentle pet?”
“I do gentle pets,” Nia said, crouching to pat puppy number three, the yellow-collared pup, on the rump as it nosed its sibling’s ear.
“Yes, you do.” Allison flipped the puppy around and held it closer so Jaden could reach its little haunches. He gave it two swift pats and then grabbed the fur. Before he could yank it, Allison pried open his chubby fist and released the pup to Nia, who was holding up her arms for it, the only one she hadn’t yet lavished with affection.
While the puppies were occupied, grunting and wrestling as they competed for Nia’s attention, Allison cleaned out the whelping box and refilled Jenny’s food and water. She let Nia dump puppy chow into a shallow dish, and they both stood back to watch the puppies climb over each other to get to their food.
“Breffast time,” Nia said solemnly, and rubbed her little tummy. She was probably hungry, too. And the goats in the far stall were getting more and more riled up as they clamored for their bucket of feed in the milking stand.
“You want to stay with the puppies while I milk?”
Nia nodded, and since she’d been so gentle and trustworthy with them earlier, Allison hustled to take care of the goat chores, Jaden snuggled against her back. She was no expert at milking, but Crystal’s does were docile as goats go, so it didn’t take long to get them milked and turned out in the field with the wether. The guardian dog that was usually with them, Chauncy, was nowhere to be seen, either.
