Remember to Forget (24 page)

At the bell’s jangle, Wren came from the dining room. “Meg! How did it go?”

Maggie laughed at the woman’s wide-eyed eagerness. “It was nice. You were right. Trevor is a very nice man.”

“Oh, that he is. I’ve never met a—” Wren threw her hands up mid-sentence. “My sauce!” She waddled back to the kitchen as fast as her short legs would allow.

Maggie followed. Fragrant steam rose from a huge stockpot on the back burner of the old range, spicing the air. She inhaled. Spaghetti sauce. The stove was parked out in the middle of the floor, a heavy-duty extension cord connecting it to the kitchen wall. Wren turned down the fire and grabbed the pot handles with the corners of her apron.

“I thought you were going out for dinner.”

“This is for tomorrow, after church. I prefer not to cook on Sundays.” Wren stirred the bubbling sauce for a minute before plopping into a chair and wiping her forehead with the same apron corners. “You’re invited, of course,” Wren added.

“Oh, I still have the sandwiches you made for the bus. They’re in the fridge in my room. Don’t worry about me.”

“No, no, those sandwiches will keep another day. You’ll have spaghetti with us tomorrow.”

Maggie opened her mouth to protest. She’d developed a conscience over the last few days, and she didn’t want to mooch from the Johannsens. But Wren cut her off before she could make a squeak.

“You’ll eat with us tomorrow, and I don’t want any arguments.” Her face brightened. “That is, unless you’ve already made plans with Trevor.”

“Oh, no. But I think he’s coming to work on the kitchen later.”

“Well,
that
news is music to my ears.”

The bells jangled in the lobby, and Wren and Maggie both turned toward the door.

“Is that you, Bart?” Wren hollered.

No response. Wren’s brow knit, and she frowned at Maggie. “That man is deafer than a post. Bart? Bart!” The bells jangled again, and Wren started for the lobby, but her scolding changed to a musical greeting as she disappeared through the arch. “Good afternoon, folks. Welcome to Wren’s. How can I help you?”

Maggie listened from the kitchen as Wren checked guests in. From the conversations, she gathered it was a rather large family group. They’d planned to stay in Salina, but a youth basketball tournament had filled the hotels there and someone had recommended Wren’s Nest.

“Well,” Wren said, “we’re glad they did. We’ll get you squared away in no time.” “Give that sauce a stir, Meg, would you?” she yelled into the kitchen.

Maggie went to stir the sauce but tuned one ear to the lobby as Wren explained the situation with the kitchen to the guests. “We apologize for the inconvenience, folks, but don’t worry. You’ll be served a lovely breakfast right here in the lobby.”

Maggie inched to where she could see the noisy party of seven as they
followed Wren down the hall to their rooms. She returned to her post at the range and watched over the spaghetti sauce.

When Wren returned a few minutes later, she looked worn out but happy. “Well, how about that? We rented four rooms tonight!”

The unspoken message in Wren’s words struck fear in Maggie’s heart. For the first time, she realized there might come a night very soon when there would be no room in the inn for Meg Anders from California. She dared not dwell too long on the possibility.

“But now I’ve got to put a breakfast together for them!
Acck!
”

Wren’s comical shriek made Maggie forget her dark thoughts.

“I could help. I’d be glad to. I’m a pretty good cook.”

Wren eyed her, as if considering her offer. But then she brushed her hands together. “You know what? I’ve got some homemade cinnamon rolls in the freezer. I can heat those up in the morning and frost them. Whip up an egg casserole. I’ll need to get some bacon and some fruit juice, but I think we’ve got it covered. There’s no need to get in a tizzy.” She waved a hand. “Never mind me. I’m just talking to myself.”

“Well, tell me what time to get up in the morning. I’d be glad to help.”

Wren patted Maggie’s hand. “Thanks, sweetie. I just might take you up on that. Bless you.” She untied her apron and hung it up on a magnetic hook on the side of the refrigerator. “For now, I’m going to go take a little nap. You ought to do the same. You’ve had a big day, and it’s barely afternoon.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I thought I’d go to the library for a little while and then walk over to the park.”

“You don’t need my permission, honey. But if you’re going, you’d better hurry. And you might want to go to the library first. They close at three on Saturday afternoons. Going to get something to read, huh?” Wren brightened. “Oh, hey, would you mind returning some books for me when you go?”

“Sure. I’d be glad to.” Maggie didn’t tell Wren that her real reason
had nothing to do with the library. She wanted to see if Jenn had replied to her e-mail yet. Maybe she could find out what Kevin knew. Whether he was looking for her.

Wren searched through the bottom cupboards. “Now where did I put the lid to that pot?” She finally found it in a drawer and waved it in the air, huffing out a breath of frustration. “This remodeling project is going to be the death of me.”

Maggie put a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Your kitchen will be done before you know it. And I bet it’ll be so beautiful it will make you forget all about what a hassle it’s been.”

Wren looked contrite. “Oh, I’ve been a big baby about it. I’m sorry, honey. I should be counting my blessings, and instead I’ve been a crabby old crank.”

“No you haven’t.”

Wren laughed. “Trust me, sweetie. I have. And if you don’t believe me, just go ask Bart.” She put down the wooden spoon. “Let me go get those library books so you can get going.”

Z
igzagging her way to the library and searching for patches of shade on the sidewalk, Maggie composed a new letter to Jenn in her head. By the time she got inside, perspiration was rolling down her face, and the cool, dank air was a sweet relief. She put Wren’s books in the drop and walked back to the carrels where the computers were located.

All four of the machines were in use, so she browsed the nearby stacks, keeping an eye out for one of the desks to open up.

When she finally got online, she accessed the e-mail account she’d set up. Immediately thirteen e-mails poured into her box. A chill of alarm snaked up her back until she saw that all but two of the messages were spam. One was a welcome to Hotmail and the other was from Jenn.

Maggie opened it and leaned in to the screen.

Maggie,

Where are you??? I’ve been worried sick. K called Tuesday night and told Mark the police found his car by the side of the road somewhere in Connecticut. He said he didn’t know why you’d gone out in the middle of the night, but that you called him, so he knows you’re alive.

Why didn’t you tell me you were trying to leave him again? I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that K is furious. Mark won’t let me out of his sight. He’s afraid K will try to come after you through us.

I hope you know what you’re doing. I’m worried about you and wondering why you haven’t e-mailed again since I got this. Please answer this e-mail and tell me where you are. And be careful! I know you always said he wouldn’t hurt you, but I’m afraid of what he’s capable of when he’s angry.

Please let me know what’s going on! It’s not safe for you to stay here, but if you need someplace to go, we’ll help you find a place. Mark lost his job again, so money’s a little tight, but we’ll do what we can to help.

I love you, Maggie.

Jenn

Maggie placed her fingers on the keyboard, longing to put her sister’s mind at ease. But what could she say? Finally she settled on a brief reassurance—and a warning.

I’m fine, Jenn. Please don’t worry. I’ll let you know more the minute I can. But please listen to Mark. Until things blow over and K realizes I’m not coming back, you need to watch your back. Do not trust him. No matter what he says.

She was surprised to find tears close to the surface. She missed her sister. Baltimore had always seemed a thousand miles away because Kevin never wanted her to go visit Jenn, but now that Jenn truly was halfway across the country, the ache of missing her grew deeper.

It had taken over two days of traveling almost constantly to end up here in this tiny Kansas town. That meant it was at least two days back to Jenn.

Maggie sighed and closed her eyes. The ache in her heart was more than mere homesickness for Jenn. In a strange way she missed Kevin too. Not the Kevin she’d run away from, but the man she once thought Kevin to be—the attentive charmer she’d bumped into at the gym after work one night. He’d given up his spot on the treadmill for her and asked her out to dinner the next night. She’d accepted, and their courtship had been like something out of the movies for the first two weeks. How desperately she’d wanted him to remain the man she thought he was that night.

Sadly, she was beginning to recognize that even before Kevin became physically abusive, he had been abusive and controlling in a different way. He was possessive—overly so, she realized now. At first it felt good to belong to someone. To have someone care where she was every minute and whether she was his one and only. Reality punched her as she remembered her old suspicions: while she had been
his
one and only, she wasn’t sure he had always been faithful to her.

But she had always thought deep down that Kevin needed her, so she exchanged that feeling of belonging for her freedom. Her mind told her it was a good thing, but her heart wasn’t altogether sure about the trade-off. She could die tomorrow, and there would be no one at her funeral. Oh, sure, Wren and Bart might come—and even Trevor. But they wouldn’t even have her real name to put on a gravestone.

A psychedelic screensaver popped up on the computer—stars twinkling on a midnight field. Maggie sat staring at it. She thought of a scene from a movie she’d once seen. An astronaut, tethered to his spaceship, ventured out to make repairs. But the line snapped, and the poor man drifted away, watching his spaceship—and his chance of being rescued—grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared and he was an insignificant dot in the universe.

That’s how she felt right now. There were very few people to whom
she mattered, and not one of them even knew where she was right now. It hurt to remember back to a time when she and Jenn and Mom were a family. She’d thought about God then. Even prayed to Him sometimes. She rubbed her temples, trying to dismiss the thoughts. It hurt too much to think about those days.

Maybe she should go back. To New York. This was too hard. Unless she got work at the gallery—and that would only be part-time—she had struck out with the job search today. Wren had warned her that Saturday wasn’t a good day to look for work in Clayburn, but Maggie couldn’t help feeling anxious. Wren said she didn’t need to worry about paying for her room, but they weren’t going to let her stay here for free indefinitely. And by the time she bought a few days’ worth of groceries, she’d be flat broke. She could make Wren’s sandwiches last a couple of days. She was used to eating light, thanks to Kevin’s fear that she might put on a pound or two. But eventually she’d have to have some way to support herself.

Though she knew the odds were slim of Jenn’s answering immediately, she checked e-mail one more time. Last she’d heard, her sister didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but if Mark was without a job, maybe Jenn was putting in some extra hours. She felt a twinge of disappointment when her e-mail box was empty this time.

She may as well go back to the inn. Maybe she could come up with a game plan. Or at least arrange some way to stay on at Wren’s until she could check out other job possibilities on Monday.

She started to log out of the e-mail program, but before she clicked the mouse, a bank ad popped up on the sidebar of the Hotmail page. It wasn’t the bank Kevin used, but it gave her an idea. What if she could access his bank account online? She thought Kevin had transferred money that way from time to time, but though he was happy to have her pay the bills and balance the checkbook, he’d never trusted her with actual transactions.

On a whim, she typed the name of Kevin’s bank in New York into
the browser’s search field. A complex Web site opened, and she navigated through a labyrinth of links, her mind churning. If it weren’t for Kevin, she would still have her job and access to her own bank account. What a fool she had been to merge what little savings she’d accumulated into his retirement fund. How easily he’d convinced her it was the right thing to do.

The more miles and hours that separated them, the more clearly she saw the ways he’d manipulated and coerced her into things that seemed utterly foolish now. If there was a way to somehow get into his account, she could almost justify withdrawing funds. She wouldn’t take more than the amount she’d turned over to him. She didn’t want his money. But the funds from her savings were rightfully hers. It was only eight hundred dollars, but right now that seemed like a small fortune. She calculated how many nights she could stay at Wren’s with eight hundred dollars, then laughed at herself. She could pay a whole month’s rent somewhere with that amount—and have money to spare. That would give her plenty of time to find a job.