The Heart of Memory

by Alison Strobel

  SAVANNAH WAS STARTLED WHEN TABITHA appeared. “My gosh, it is already eleven?”

  “Eleven-thirty, actually. Did you want lunch?”

  Savannah rubbed her eyes; they burned from staring so long at the screen. “Yes, I should.”

  Tabitha gave her one of her looks that meant she knew more about how you felt than you probably wanted her to. “Didn’t find what you were looking for?”

  “It’s the one thing no one writes about. Either that or I’m just not searching for the right thing.”

  They walked to the dining room where everyone else was already eating. “I had so much hope last night. The whole way home on that flight, I just kept thinking this was the beginning of the end of all of this. Now that I had an idea of what was going on, I’d be able to put a stop to it. But now I feel like I’m just doomed to live like this forever.” She didn’t tell Tabitha how the chill had left her chest when she’d visited Lori, and how this morning, when faced with the absence of the information she desperately needed, it had once again returned.

  Tabitha wrapped an arm around Savannah’s shoulders. “God has a plan.”

  Savannah shuddered Tabitha’s arm away. “Don’t even say that.”

  She regretted the words instantly, but only because she knew how they must hurt Tabitha. It was an apt reflection of the fears that gripped her, however—that this was who she was now, a cold-hearted witch, in more ways than one.

  CHAPTER 13

  SHAUN LET OUT A GROWL AND SLAMMED THE PHONE BACK INTO its cradle with a curse before leaving his office. He was jumpy with anger at how Savannah turned his words back on him, how they couldn’t have a civil conversation anymore. He needed a run to clear his head.

  Jessie was in the hallway, moving with quiet steps away from his office. “When did you get here?”

  She stopped and slowly turned. He could read her expression loud and clear. “A little while ago.”

  “You heard it all.”

  “Yeah.”

  He blew out a breath and shrugged. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  She cocked her head slightly, and her expression became unreadable. “Are you and Mom getting a divorce?”

  “No, honey, we’re not.” He hoped his face wasn’t as clear to her as hers often was to him. He wasn’t sure how well he could hide his doubt about the statement he’d just made. He put his arm around her and led her to the kitchen. “All married couples have their rough patches; it doesn’t mean they’re going to split up. Your mom and I agreed a long time ago divorce would never be an option.”

  She sat on a barstool as he started the coffeepot. “But that was before she turned into … whoever she is now,” she said. “She’s not the same person. She doesn’t even believe in God anymore, does she? So what reason does she have to keep divorce off the table?”

  He was getting uncomfortable with this conversation. He wasn’t ready to talk with Jessie about something he himself hadn’t figured out yet. I should never have told her everything Savannah was going through. “We’re not getting a divorce, Jess. Trust me. Now, what brings you home? You’re a college student. You should be sleeping in until noon, not driving home before breakfast. I didn’t think I’d see you again before Thanksgiving.”

  “I left some stuff in my closet that I wanted to bring back to campus. I meant to get it when I was here last but I forgot. The rest of my weekend is really packed, so I wanted to come now while I had the time.” She swiveled on the seat, eyes concentrated on the marble countertop. “Is Mom coming home for Thanksgiving?”

  Shaun tried not to show his irritation. “I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it.”

  “What if she doesn’t come home?”

  He chuckled. “What, and relocates to Georgia? I don’t think she could handle the humidity.”

  “I’m serious, Dad. What if she decides she’s done with us and just stays there? What if the new Savannah likes humidity?”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “You’re getting melodramatic, Jessie. Trust me, she’s not staying there forever.”

  “Well, when is she coming back then?”

  He shrugged and took down two mugs from the cabinet. “I don’t know. When she’s gotten herself together, I guess. Did you hear the first part of the conversation, about cellular memory?”

  “No, I came in when you started getting angry.”

  He winced. “Well, your mom met with the sister of her heart donor and found out some very interesting information.” He outlined Savannah’s conversation with Lori and the discovery they’d both made of the theory. “So we feel like we’re going in the right direction. We just have to do more research.”

  “That sounds … weird. Did you find anything that said how to stop the cellular memories from interfering with the recipient?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s the one thing nobody mentions. From what I gather they may fade with time, but it’s not like you can just switch them off, or speed up the fading process.”

  “So she’s like this indefinitely?”

  “I guess so, yes.”

  She frowned at him. “But what about A&A? It can’t last like this indefinitely, can it? She’s not speaking or traveling—where will the income come from?”

  “Her new book is still selling, and so are her past books — whenever a new one comes out it always revives the sales of the others, even if it’s just for a little while. It’s not like there’s no money coming in at all. You have plenty of things in your own life to worry about, Jessie, don’t dwell on this one.”

  “How can’t I, Dad? Adam’s family would be in dire straits if A&A went down. I can’t not worry about it.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I know, honey. But we just have to trust that God will take care of everything.”

  She shrugged off his hand and slipped from the barstool to open the fridge and pull out the milk. “I haven’t been real thrilled with how God has handled things lately. I don’t know how willing I am to trust that he’s going to snap his fingers and make all this okay.”

  He wished he could admit he felt the same way, but he wasn’t about to feed into her own struggle and doubt with his own. Though hearing her speak like that made him sad—and even more stressed. If she were to find out what was going on—if A&A really did collapse—he’d be just as much to blame for her walking away from God as Savannah would be.

  He responded with something lame, hoping it didn’t sound as phony to her. He poured them both coffee, but she excused herself, taking her mug to her bedroom and shutting the door. Shaun slumped onto the couch and prayed for what he realized was the first time in weeks. You’ve got to show me how to fix this. I’ve got to fix this. Tell me what to do.

  He stared at the trees, waiting for an answer, and tried not to assume the ever-stronger impression that closing A&A was actually from God. Surely that was his own fear talking. Why would God want to shut down such an important ministry? Regardless, nothing is going to get fixed if we’re not talking to each other. He had to go to Georgia. He had to get face-to-face with Savannah and talk all this through. It had been less than a week since she’d been gone, but already it felt like a month. The distance between them grew exponentially with every day that passed. They needed to reconnect, fast.

  He took his coffee to his office and looked up their frequent flyer miles, only to discover Savannah had dipped into them for both her flight to Georgia and to Kansas. There weren’t enough left for him to book a round-trip ticket. He cursed under his breath and debated the importance of the trip for just a moment, then looked up a flight and tried to book it.

  I’m sorry, your purchase did not go through. Please check your credit card account number and try again.

  Shaun’s stomach sank. Please Jesus, help me.

  TABITHA APPEARED AT THE KITCHEN door. “Shaun’s here.”

  Savannah nearly chopped her knuckles into the onions. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Tabitha shut the door and Savanna
h groaned.

  “Who’s this Shaun?” Aniyah asked, eyebrows arched.

  “My husband.”

  “He come to visit you? Aw, that’s sweet.”

  A snort escaped. “It’s not a visit. More like a business meeting.”

  Aniyah tsked. “Don’t be assuming the worst, now.”

  “It’s not an assumption, trust me.” She slid a finger down the side of the knife, knocking minced vegetables to the cutting board. “Into the pot?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for helping. You spoiling me. Gonna miss you when you go.”

  “Well, hopefully that won’t happen for a while.” She hadn’t admitted that to Tabitha yet, fearing she’d be given a deadline. But the thought of returning to Colorado put a knot in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

  Being in Georgia was so lovely. It was easy to forget about Colorado, about A&A, about her family, when she was surrounded by such warm and loving people who didn’t press her to be anyone other than who she felt she was right then. The others at The Refuge understood how wounds of the soul could change you on a deep level. They didn’t expect you to fake it or try to deny your pain. Not that the pain she felt was actually hers. None of them knew that, though. And knowing it didn’t make anything any easier for her.

  But with Shaun here, she couldn’t live in her pretty Georgia world of denial. She had to face what was going on back home because of her. And since she couldn’t do anything about any of it, she didn’t really want to face it.

  She dawdled as much as she dared, then went to the sitting room where she and Tabitha had talked the first day she’d arrived. He was sitting in one of the corner seats by the window, staring out at the orchard of leafless trees. It had been only a week—how was it that he already felt like a stranger?

  “Hi.”

  He looked up at her. For a moment she could have sworn he didn’t recognize her. “Hey.”

  They didn’t touch. She sat down in the chair diagonal from him and tried to muster some affection, or even a feeling of friendliness. It didn’t work. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. I tried to use the Visa the other day and it was denied. What’s that about?”

  He waved a hand. “Just a glitch. It happened to me, too. Use the Mastercard until I get it sorted out.”

  She thought about that for a moment, but couldn’t get it to make sense. “What is there to sort out?”

  “I don’t know. They’re looking into it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”

  He sighed, and his expression aged him ten years. “Look, Savannah, I was hoping we’d be able to … to think through some things a little more level-headedly if I came out here. I don’t want to get into any arguments.”

  She worked to keep her tone even. “I’m not trying to get into an argument. I’m trying to get a straight answer.”

  “We need to talk about more important things.”

  “More important than why you’re evading my questions?”

  “A&A is going under.” She shut her mouth, eyes wide as Shaun continued. “We’re barely making ends meet. We have no way to budget for the future because we have no idea what our income will be next month, much less for the next quarter. Your book is selling, and numbers have gone up for your backlist, but none are as high as we’d hoped. We don’t have the book tour income we’d been counting on, and in fact lost money when we canceled—”

  “You don’t have to remind me, I know what happened,” she snapped.

  “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty —”

  “Oh no? Look, I know I cost the ministry money, I know I’m to blame —”

  “Look I’m not trying to blame you.” He stopped, took a deep breath, started again with his tone lowered. “I’m just trying to lay everything out on the table. This is what we’re dealing with, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep things together over there. The fact is we’re falling apart, and without you at the helm we’re doomed.”

  She swallowed hard. The joy at the thought of not having that weight on her shoulders anymore was buried by the horror of costing her staff their jobs and casting such a shameful light on her family. “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I think we need to shut it down.”

  “What? No.”

  “Then tell me how to keep it open.”

  “I don’t know. That’s not my department.”

  Shaun scoffed. “No, your department is writing books and speaking about them, and you’re not doing either one.”

  Savannah blinked back tears. “Well, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t pay the bills. We need to close, the sooner the better.”

  Savannah hugged herself, the cold in her chest seeming to course through every vein of her body. “I can’t believe it’s coming to this.”

  Surprise joined frustration in his face. “I can’t believe you’re not jumping at the chance to shut it down. You don’t even believe in the ministry’s mission anymore, what do you care if it thrives or dies?”

  “Because that ministry is the culmination of my blood, sweat, and tears! It’s not like I’ve forgotten who I was before all this happened, Shaun. We both gave the last ten years of our lives to that place. How can you think I’d be happy to close it?”

  “You may not have forgotten who you were, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not that person anymore. The new Savannah is making it pretty clear that the priorities from her old life are out the window.”

  She couldn’t deny it, much as she wanted to. And she couldn’t deny that he was right about the ministry — it had to be closed. Keeping it open was impossible—and at this point, not even reasonable. She wiped tears from her cheeks with her sleeves. “Fine. Shut it down then. Just tell them … tell them I’m not strong enough to keep working.” She let out a snort. “Oh, what do I care—you can tell them the truth if you want. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”

  She stood and turned toward the stairs, but Shaun sprang from his seat and grabbed her arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Back to my room. I have books on cellular memory I’m reading.”

  “Well — can I at least come up with you? Bring up my bag?”

  She was confused. “What—are you staying here?”

  “Of course. I’m staying with you—aren’t I? I mean, I assumed …”

  His words died off as they blinked at each other in awkward surprise. The thought of sharing her bed with him made her skin crawl. “Um, that’s fine … I guess. I just thought …” She sighed. “Never mind. Bring your bag.”

  Maybe Tabitha had a cot he could sleep on.

  SHAUN THREW HIS BAG INTO the back of the taxi. “So you’re coming back Wednesday, right?”

  She cringed. “Actually, I changed my flight again.”

  Great. Another $75 down the drain. “But you’ll be back for Thanksgiving at least, right?”

  “I—well—you know, that’s two weeks away, we can talk about it later.”

  He shook his head but said nothing. She kept her mouth shut so nothing snarky could slip out. He slid into the back seat of the cab and shut the door without saying goodbye.

  Savannah watched the cab kick up dust down the long driveway, and willed the tension in her shoulders to finally release. It had been the most awkward two days of her life, having Shaun here; but even though she was glad it was over, she wasn’t glad to see him go. Not because she missed him, or for any reasons at all affectionate or intimate, but because of what he was going to do once he got home.

  She went back up to her room and crawled under the covers of her bed to continue reading her book. It was an autobiography about a heart and lung transplant recipient who had experienced drastic changes in her personality after her surgery. It was one of the most well-known and well-documented instances of cellular memory, and Savannah found comfort in the author’s familiar struggles. She was making a list of things the woman had done to cope with the biza
rre experience, hoping to create a roadmap to follow as she tried to figure out life while sharing Charlie’s heart. When she’d first found the book she’d researched the author, hoping they might be able to connect and Savannah might glean some wisdom from her. But the first article she’d found had been the woman’s obituary.

  She read through lunch, not feeling up to socializing with the other Refugees or Aniyah, and only stopped when her cell phone rang in the early afternoon. Marisa’s name came up on the screen, which was the only reason she answered. “Hi, Marisa.”

  “Savannah, hi. Is Shaun still there?”

  “No, he left a few hours ago. How did you know he was here?”

  “Brenda told me. I talked to her earlier. That’s actually why I’m calling. She phoned me this morning because she wanted to know if I knew anything about A&A shutting down.”

  Savannah sat up, confused. “What? Why was she asking about that?”

  Marisa’s stalling sigh made Savannah ill. “Apparently a couple people’s paychecks bounced over the last couple days. She tried calling Shaun about it, but he never answered his cell.”

  She thought back to his visit and realized she’d never even heard his phone ring. Would he really have turned it off? Or not even brought it? He never did that. He knew before he came out that A&A was going to close.

  “Anyway, people over there are in a panic and no one knows what to do or what’s going on. That’s why Brenda called me; she was hoping I’d heard something from you, or could at least get some information for them.”

  Savannah hung her head and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Oh, Marisa … yes, we actually are closing A&A. But we just decided that yesterday. Shaun didn’t tell me how desperate things were right now; I thought we were closing it because the future was so uncertain. I had no idea things were already as bleak as they are. I feel awful. Listen—tell me whose checks bounced and I’ll pay them out of our personal account.”

  Marisa gave her the names, and Savannah swallowed back her tears as she wrote them down. The guilt and depression she’d managed to keep at bay while on her sabbatical came crashing down on her as she stared at the names of people she’d worked with for years.