The Memory of All That (5 page)

Chapter 9

Marnie watched David disappear through a door in the hallway. She marveled at the fact that his presence always evoked emotion, even though she could not remember their life together. Their relationship puzzled her. There was no doubt he was angry with her, and before today, he did not believe that she had lost her memory. Even then, his presence made her tingle from her scalp to her toes. She was ever-conscious of his presence when they were in the same room and was mesmerized when his eyes were fastened on her. Though she had been hurt by his disbelief, she still caught herself trying to remember what it must have been like to have him kiss her, hold her, make love to her.

Laying those thoughts aside, she pushed open the swinging door and entered the kitchen. As out-of-date as the rest of the house was, the kitchen was up-to-date and well organized. Two walls held modern white cabinets with granite countertops. A six-burner range stood ready for use, and a large granite-topped island with stools on two sides filled the center of the room. A large stainless steel refrigerator stood ajar while a woman looked for something inside.

“What’s the matter, Mr. David? You need another muffin to tide you over till lunch? Come back for another one, has ye?” Her voice was tinged with a faint British accent. Closing the door, she turned to see Marnie standing in the doorway. “Oh, good morning, Miss Marnie.”

“Good morning,” Marnie said awkwardly. “Mrs. . . . . Grady, is it?”

“Mrs. Grady, yes,” she answered as she held a bowl of eggs and a package of butter. She was a woman whose ample, apron-wrapped figure advertised her cooking skills. Her hair was a shade of red that only came from a bottle. She looked as if she didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t quite understand David when he told me your name. You’ve heard, I guess, that I have amnesia and don’t remember anything about my life.”

“I heard that, yes. My goodness, we’ve all been talking about it.” No longer caught by surprise, the cook’s words flowed. “Mr. David probably called me Mrs. Gravy, didn’t he?”

“Er, yes, he did. Then he said Mrs. Grady. I wasn’t too sure about it.”

“He was just a little tyke when I came to work for the Barretts, and he thought my name was Mrs. Gravy. He learned the right of it when he got older, but he still calls me Mrs. Gravy. It’s our little joke, it is.”

She set the items on the island. “You’re a bit hungry, I wouldn’t doubt. Want me to whip you up some eggs? Or pancakes, maybe?”

“I don’t want to cause you extra work, Mrs. Grady. I can see you were getting ready to bake something. I can fix my own breakfast.”

“It’s no trouble, dearie, no trouble at all. If you like, you can have one of my blueberry muffins. Mr. David is fond of them.”

“That sounds wonderful. With a glass of milk, perhaps?”

Mrs. Grady fetched a tumbler from a glass-paned cabinet and went back to the refrigerator for milk.

“And are you remembering anything? Anything at all?”

“No. Not really. Thank you,” Marnie said as Mrs. Grady placed a glass of milk and a plate with a muffin on it before her. “Mm. Blueberry,” she said with a mouthful. “Delicious.”

“I put me up plenty of blueberries in the freezer, I did. Last summer it was. Mr. David especially likes ‘em, and I wanted enough to last till next summer.” She sat on a stool at the island and began peeling apples that sat in a large bowl.

“I’m making my apple cake. It’ll be ready for supper. Lunch’ll be in a couple of hours. Mrs. Ruth and Miss Celeste are eating at the club—the country club, that is—so it’s soup and sandwiches for Mrs. Tucker and Jonathan—and you, of course.”

“That’ll be fine with me. I don’t want to put you out any.”

“Won’t put me out none. I keep soup in the freezer, too. I can heat up how much I need at the drop of a hat. Days when nobody is home, I spend putting up extra.”

“I haven’t met Mrs. Tucker yet.” She thought it better not to mention she had met Jonathan but hadn’t known he was her son until this morning.

“You haven’t . . . er . . . no, I guess you don’t remember her, either.”

“David said she is Jonathan’s nanny, and she has been gone. Someone named Celeste has been taking care of Jonathan?” she asked.

“You might say that,” Mrs. Grady replied enigmatically. “Mrs. Tucker’s sister passed away, and she had to go be with her in her last days and make arrangements. Miss Celeste is an old friend of the family who volunteered to stay and watch after Jonathan.” She sniffed loudly, giving the impression she didn’t care for the situation.

Marnie didn’t want to get into a gossip session with the cook, although she had no doubt she could be greatly informed and entertained by the woman’s tales if she so chose.

“Thank you for the delicious muffin, Mrs. Grady. I’ll just wash these dishes. Then I’m going to explore this floor of the house. I’m hoping something will trigger my memory, get my mind to recall my past.”

“No need to wash them, dearie. Just put them in the sink, and I’ll load them into the dishwasher when I put my bowls in. Thank you for offering, though. That was very thoughtful of you, it was.

“Now, mind you, don’t go down the east hall. That’s the hall to the right past the swinging door. Mrs. Ruth’s rooms are that way. She’s not home, but it’s best you don’t go there. Go to the living room—you can find that, can’t you? Go into the west hall and you can go into any of the rooms that way.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Grady.”

“Lord love us. Isn’t it something? You not remembering anything. Not your husband, not your sweet little boy, none of us who work here.”

Marnie thought it was best to avoid a conversation about her memory, so she smiled and left. She retraced her steps through the dining room and foyer. In the living room, she noticed an arched doorway on the back wall that was similar to the one in the dining room.

Marnie could see a room at the far end of the west hall that was separated from the rest of the house by etched-glass French doors. As she made her way down the hall, she opened doors as she came to them. She discovered a powder room and a storage closet before she entered a large, sunlit room furnished with overstuffed furniture covered in colorful striped fabric. A baby grand piano stood in one corner, but a couple of chairs made it inaccessible. A table and four chairs stood in front of tall windows overlooking the backyard.

I must have liked this room,
she thought.
It’s the first friendly room I’ve seen in this house. I’ll bet I spent a lot of time in this den.

Marnie explored the doors and drawers that covered one wall. When she opened the middle set of doors, she found a big screen television, below which were rows of DVDs and VHS movies. She wondered if she and David watched movies here together, and if Ruth joined them.

The next set of doors revealed an old stereo system and vinyl records alongside tapes and CDs. Behind the final set of doors were shelves full of games of every description. Everything necessary for a pleasant evening at home could be found there.

After leaving that room, Marnie continued down the hall to a door on the opposite side. Decorated in dark colors, it somehow was not as gloomy as the living room or dining room. Deep green walls peaked out from behind bookcases full of books of all genres. In front of the fireplace stood two leather chairs, and over the fireplace was a man’s portrait. He resembled the man in the portrait Marnie had seen hanging in the dining room. She surmised it might be David’s grandfather. A grand mahogany desk rested on a vibrant oriental rug.

After choosing a book to read later, she tucked it under her arm and proceeded down the hall toward the French doors at the end, skipping other doors along the way. There she found a sizable, sunlit room with windows on three sides that overlooked the snow-covered yard. Another set of French doors on the back wall opened onto a patio.

The space was furnished with white-painted wicker furniture, the pads of which were covered in bright floral and striped fabric. Once again, Marnie was amazed at the difference between the dark, gloomy areas of the house and the comfortable, friendly salons she had discovered today.

She surveyed the room for a couple of minutes and imagined how much nicer it would look if it had some green plants to fill the space.

It is beautiful in here, but it’s too cool for me to sit and read
, she thought,
at least in winter.

She traced her steps back to the pleasant room she thought of as the den. Settling into a comfortable overstuffed chair, she drew her feet up under her and began to read. Within a few minutes, the events of the morning—the news that Jonathan was her son and she had not been a good mother to him, the crying spell, David’s seeming acceptance of her memory loss, exploring the home she still did not remember—caught up with her. The words on the page blurred, the book lowered to her lap, and she fell asleep.

She awoke to find the same dark-haired handsome man sitting in a chair, staring at her, frowning, just like her first memory of him.

Chapter 10

“I must have fallen asleep. How long have you been sitting there?”

“A few minutes. I see you’ve been reading.”

“Yes, I found the library. I remembered as I was looking through the books that I like certain authors. I must have read these before.”

He frowned again. “Not that I can recall,” he said briefly.

“I’m sure I must have liked this room. It’s so sunny and comfortable, not like some rooms in the house.”

“You do complain a lot about the house.”

“Well, this room is nice, so are the library and sunroom at the end of this hall. Surely I spent a lot of time in them. Do we sit in here to watch TV or listen to music?”

“No. You listen to music on your iPod.”

“Oh.”

He looked thoughtful. “Come to think of it, wherever you were, you must have left your purse and your iPod. You had them when you went missing and didn’t when you came back.”

“I had a purse over my arm. I looked in it to try to find something with my name and address on it.”

“You have a lot of purses. You always have a billfold and makeup wherever you go. And your cell phone, of course. There wasn’t much in the one you came home with.”

“I know.”

He stood up. “Let’s go out for lunch. Mrs. Grady has already fed Mrs. Tucker and Jonathan. Go upstairs and get a coat.”

She scrambled to her feet. “Are jeans good enough, or do I need to change?”

“Jeans are fine. Just get a coat. It’s cold out.”

When Marnie returned to the foyer, David was waiting for her. Without a word, he went through the dining room and turned into the east hall. Marnie followed, slightly miffed that he didn’t speak but obviously expected her to keep up. She reckoned his dismissive attitude toward her might be part of the trouble between them.

When they reached the door he had disappeared through earlier, she saw it led to a large garage. A silver BMW and a red Mustang were parked in two of the spaces. Marnie presumed Ruth parked her car in the empty spot. David had started for the driver’s side of the BMW when he noticed she was still standing in the doorway. He corrected his direction and opened the passenger door for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she slid onto the soft leather seat. She breathed in the aroma of new leather as he slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It roared to life, and he backed out onto what appeared to be a courtyard.

As they drove, Marnie noticed the houses she had walked by a week earlier. When they reached Main Street, David turned right, taking them on a new route.

I must have driven this way before
, she thought.

“Anything look familiar?” he asked, just as she was thinking it didn’t.

“No, nothing.”

They went around a square with a courthouse in the middle. On the far side, David pointed out a shop. “That’s Nicole’s, your favorite place to shop. You buy something there at least once a week.”

“That’s where the receipt in my pocket was from, the one with the address on it.”

He nodded. “Yes, I know. I would have thought you’d remember it.”

“Well, if I can’t remember you and Jonathan and the house I live in, I doubt I’d remember a dress shop.”

He shrugged and guided the car away from the town square, down a street filled with businesses that changed character as they progressed. Quaint antique shops, clothing stores, boutiques, and flower shops evolved into auto parts stores, pawnshops, and thrift stores. After another mile, he pulled into a parking lot. A gaudy neon sign proclaimed the place to be the Roadhouse Café. Other neon signs advertising various brands of beer plastered the exterior walls. It looked fairly disreputable, and Marnie wondered why he brought her there.

They entered the large room, and they were assailed with the smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer. She looked around at the dark-paneled walls, covered with posters and signs advertising beer, rodeos, and wrestling matches. A jukebox on the far wall was playing a twangy country song as a waitress in short shorts and a tight tee shirt approached them.

“Well, look who the cat drug in!”

“Hello, Jolene,” David responded.

“Sit anywhere you like, hon. No one much here middle of the afternoon.”

David directed Marnie to a booth on the back wall, well away from the other customers.

“How you been, Marnie? You look kinda peaked.”

“Um, I’ve had the flu,” she said. “Chills and fever.” She didn’t know how else answer, since she certainly wasn’t going to get into a conversation about her memory loss with a waitress in a beer joint, even if she did know her name.

“It’s sure goin’ ‘round bad. Can I get you folks some beers?”

David looked at Marnie and raised his eyebrows in question.

“I’ll have a Coke, please.”

“Sure thing, hon. How ‘bout you, Mr. Barrett?”

“I’ll take a beer. Draft,” he answered.

Marnie watched the woman make her way back to the bar, where a heavyset man was drying glasses and placing them on a shelf in front of a mirrored wall.

“What are you thinking?” David asked.

“I was wondering how long she had to practice to learn how to wiggle her buns like that,” Marnie replied.

David cracked up.

Marnie grinned. “It’s not that funny,” she said as he continued to chuckle.

“What’s funny is that you swing your tushie a hell of a lot better than Jolene does.”

“I do?” She couldn’t think of anything to say after a statement like that.

Jolene returned with their drinks. “You ready to order?”

“Hamburger with everything . . . and fries,” David answered. He looked at Marnie. “Is that OK?”

She nodded in agreement.

“Comin’ right up.”

“I take it I’ve been here before, since Jolene knows me.”

“You might say that.”

Marnie was getting thoroughly ticked off at his enigmatic answers, and her voice was sharp as she countered. “Well, why don’t you say that, then? How about helping me out here? Did we eat here often?”

“No. We didn’t eat here. At least we didn’t after we married. Jolene knows you because you worked here.”

She fell back against the red vinyl seat. “I worked here?”

“Yep. Wiggled your cute little tushie at me . . . till you caught me.” His voice turned bitter, and he took a swig from the frothy mug in front of him.

“I . . . I wore clothes like that?” she glanced at Jolene who was standing at the bar.

“Nope, yours were shorter and tighter.”

“I was a waitress, in a place like this.” It was a statement, not a question. She looked him square in the eyes and asked, “What did I do here?”

He leaned across the table until his face almost touched hers. In a low, sexy voice, he answered, “Anything you could, sweetheart. Anything you could.”