Haunted Honeymoon (25 page)

My throat constricted and I turned my face away from Lily.

“What happened to the girl then?” Lily said quietly.

“She wants to be one of them, living within the pages of a book. Night comes and the mall empties. A cleaning lady sees the girl and speaks to her in Spanish. She takes the girl by the hand. The lady’s hand is warm and firm and the girl misses being touched so much and no one has touched her or loved her since her
abuelita
died. She is so small and alone and her grief is so enormous. All she wants is human touch and she cries and begs the woman, ‘Please can I live with you?’”

And then I couldn’t speak anymore. Something inside me felt broken.

Lily was there with a tissue, and I wiped at my eyes and tried to calm my breaths.

“What are you thinking, Milagro?”

I glared at her. “I’m thinking that this isn’t my story. My story isn’t a tragedy or a drama. My story is full of laughs and has a happy ending. Everyone says I’m a happy-ending sort of girl!”

“Who says that?”

“I don’t remember!” I shouted. “And this stupid exercise won’t help me remember.” I walked into the house and to my room,
slammed the door shut, and picked up my pen. I wrote in first person, past tense, and let myself get lost in
my
story, a happy, magical story. When I heard the dogs barking and a car coming down the drive, I closed my composition book and went to investigate.

AG was ahead of me, opening the front door and saying, “Come in, come in.”

A pretty young woman with long red curls entered the house and handed him a folder. “Here’s the prospectus you wanted, Sir,” she said with an English accent. She was wearing a blue cotton dress the same color as her eyes, and I felt self-conscious about my sack-of-potatoes outfit.

When she saw me, she looked stunned. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Milagro, this is my assistant, Nettie Matthews,” AG said. “She was acquainted with your friend, Wilcox Spiggott.”

“You knew Wilcox?” I asked. “Gosh, I’ve been wanting to talk to someone who could tell me about him.”

AG said, “You girls go and chat while I look this over.”

I said, “Let’s have lemonade on the terrace.”

Nettie followed me into the kitchen and stood silent as I poured two glasses of pink lemonade. I led her onto the terrace and we sat down.

After she took a few sips of her drink, she said, “Mr. Grant told me that you have amnesia. You really don’t remember me?”

“I’m sorry.”

She gazed at me and smiled sadly. “I wanted to come see you earlier, but the Grants said I should wait. We met when you were on holiday in London.”

“Did we? Honestly, it’s awful that I forgot that trip.”

“You and I wrestled in bikinis in a nightclub.”

“You’re kidding! That’s great. In mud, or Jell-O?”

Her smile widened. “In a vat of red liquid.”

I laughed and said, “I can’t wait to remember that.”

“When we first met, I wasn’t aware that you were Milagro de Los Santos.”

“It’s not like I’m anyone important. I’m so sorry about Wilcox. How did you know him?”

“My family has been employed by the Spiggott family for generations. Wil and I always knew each other and … he was a lovely lad,” she said. “I was shocked when my father told me he’d disappeared and then the Grants reported that he had been …” She shook her head, distraught.

“I wish I could tell you something about what happened to him. I don’t even remember him. All I know is that I liked him and that he surfed.”

“That was one of his passions,” Nettie said. “His other was passion. He loved to party and laugh and shag and talk. I thought he would always be in my life.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

I put down my lemonade and wrapped my arms around her.

After a few minutes, Nettie pulled away and wiped at her tears. “I’m not supposed to upset you in your condition.”

“Nettie, I’m supposed to stay here until I remember things. You’re welcome to come and visit whenever you want.”

She gave me a tight smile. “Thank you, but my father, who worked for Wil, is visiting and I want to spend time with him. Mr. Grant has leased me a sweet house in town with a purple gate and big yellow and pink roses. I hate leaving my father there, worrying about Wil. Besides, my father’s not fond of employees and employers consorting.”

“Consorting sounds like we’re sex partners or criminals. We’ll just be cocktailing.”

“I’ll try,” she said, but I could tell she was being polite.

Late in the afternoon, I went out to dig up the dead mock-orange shrub. Lily came into the garden and said, “Are you okay?”

I regretted letting her get to me so I spoke normally. “I will be when I remove this. It has a heavenly scent that always reminds me of being in love, but I don’t know what I was thinking planting it here. This climate is far too cold for this species.”

“Maybe you were thinking of being in love.”

“Perhaps,” I said as I dug around the trunk. “I might have forced it to survive, but it never would have thrived.”

“Oswald just called and he’d like me to visit his office to do a psych evaluation on one of his partner Vidalia’s charity cases. Will you be all right by yourself?”

“Vidalia, like the onion?” I hauled out the shrub and said, “Sure, I’m fine. Go have a little fun. You’ve been trapped here with me and missing out on all the wonderful sights. You and Oswald should go out to dinner, too.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Lily, my policy is, when a fun chick suggests a good time, say yes.”

She laughed and I think we both felt better.

Lily must have taken my advice about dinner, because she and Oswald weren’t back by the time I went to bed. I wished I could be out and about, having fun with Oswald, too.

I didn’t sleep well that night. I had disturbing dreams that made even less sense than most dreams: I was in a car that lost control on a mountain road; I was dressed in a white robe watching a creepy ceremony in a strange ugly language; my ex-boyfriend Sebastian was kidnapping me.

The worst was a dream of myself as a small child. It was a hot day and my mother Regina had filled an aboveground pool with water. She set a ladder beside it, and then she turned and went into the house and locked the door.

I didn’t know how to swim yet, but the water excited me. I
climbed the ladder, jumped in, and sank. Suddenly I wasn’t a child anymore but a woman, and my wrists and legs were bound by heavy chains, and mans’ hands held me down as I struggled to reach the surface.

I awoke fighting the blankets, in a cold sweat, ready to kill anyone who would hurt me. But I was alone in the dark.

Oswald came to see me in the morning before he went to work. He looked fresh and handsome in a navy suit and ivory shirt.

I felt proud of him and said, “It’s wonderful that you donate time to care for those in need. I really admire you for making a difference.”

“Maybe when this situation is over you can pursue a career that helps others, like teaching. You can always write about zombies and monsters in your free time.”

“But my political horror stories do help others,” I said, surprised that he didn’t understand.

He frowned a little. “Yes, of course.”

“I’m so glad you took Lily out last night. It’s a pity she has to spend her vacation stuck here with me.”

“She doesn’t feel that way at all. She loves her profession, and she thinks you’re a very intriguing case.”

“If I’m the most exciting thing on her plate, I find that a little sad. I hope you took her out somewhere nice for dinner.”

He paused and said, “There’s a hillside winery with a tram.”

“Oh, but I would have loved to go on a funicular!” I said. “It’s got ‘fun’ right in the name.”

He got an odd expression and seemed about to say something when the dogs started barking to announce someone arriving. “I’ll see who that is.”

I went outside with him and was thrilled to see that Gabriel had returned. Oswald wanted to talk alone to his cousin, so I ran
across the field to Mrs. Grant’s cottage. I knocked on her open door and she said, “Come in.”

She was drinking coffee and relaxing on the sofa with a pile of celebrity magazines. Her legs were curled beneath her and her silver hair was charmingly mussed.

“Are you busy?” I asked as I sat across from her, feeling very sack-of-potatoish by comparison.

She put down a glossy weekly. “Would it matter if I was?”

“No. I was just being polite. Were you ever in the movie biz?”

“On the periphery, Young Lady. I knew people, but my family didn’t approve of being in the limelight.”

“That’s too bad.” I picked up a magazine, opened a dog-eared page, and saw a fashion spread of gorgeous, copper-skinned Thomas Cook in designer clothes. “Mrs. Grant,” I began.

She rolled her eyes. “Lily said I should let you establish our relationships, but would you please stop calling me that? You always call me Edna.”

“Edna,” I said, feeling pleased with myself. “It’s very peaceful here, isn’t it?”

“If you mean boring, say so.”

“Oh, no, far be it from me to find fault with this bucolic wonderland. Your grandson and I are getting along swimmingly. So don’t give up hope that you may yet have the opportunity to buy a grandmother-of-the-groom dress. I’m thinking something in puce.”

“Why puce?”

“It’s a nice purply color, even though puce originally meant flea-colored.”

She ignored my fascinating information.

“Young Lady, do you really want to reconcile with Oswald?”

“It’s not reconciliation if I don’t recall breaking up. How could I do any better than Oswald?”

“It didn’t work out before, Milagro.”

“But I’m different now, careful and thoughtful, serious and sincere. There should be a way for people who’ve loved each other to correct past mistakes. Isn’t that what you and Mr. Grant are trying to do?”

She thought before answering. “I don’t know if that’s what I want. How much should one compromise in order to be accepted by another?” She sighed and suddenly looked much older. “My family would be overjoyed if AG and I remarried.”

I flipped open the magazine to the photos of her obsession, Thomas Cook, and held it toward her. “Better a real relationship with a real person who’s stable and reliable and still foxy, than a fantasy about someone who probably looks like a toad in real life.”

“Do you think so?” she said, a smile playing on her lips.

“Oh, yes, these photos are airbrushed and Photoshopped. They can make anyone look like Adonis. He’s not real.”

“You may be right, Young Lady.”

“I am, Edna. Now, if you need to talk again, I’ll be in my room.”

I wasn’t sure, but after I left I thought I heard her laughing.

By the time I returned to the house, the mood had changed drastically. Oswald, Gabriel, and Lily were in the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee. Oswald had taken off his jacket, and Gabriel was pacing.

“¿Que pasa?”
I said, and gave Gabriel a non-skin-contact hug.

“Hey, baby,” Gabriel said. “I was just telling everyone that we’re having a visit from our Council director tonight.”

“He’s no one special,” Oswald said, his mouth turning down at the corners. “We told the Council you still don’t recall anything.”

“He’s going to interview you,” Gabriel said. “He’ll ask the same questions we have.”

“This is unreasonable,” Lily said. “Milagro’s not in any condition to be pressured by the Council.”

Gabriel ran his hand through his pretty red-gold hair. “We’ve
done everything we can to buy time. But someone is dead, or at least we
think
someone is dead, and that takes precedence.”

Oswald came to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve canceled my appointments so I can be here for you. Lily will give the Council director her evaluation and our cousin, Sam, an attorney, has set up guidelines that he must follow so that you’re protected from any difficulties.”

“Oswald, don’t worry. I’m very good at answering questions. Just ask Lily.”

I glanced at my shrink, who was suddenly fascinated by the coffee in her mug.

Oswald said to me, “Can we talk?”

I nodded and he led me upstairs to his bedroom. I looked around at an airy room with luxurious white linens on the bed and a beamed ceiling. It looked like the room at a luxury hotel, a room out of a magazine.

Oswald closed the bedroom door and then went to a bed table and searched around in a drawer.

I glanced at the bare surface of the dresser and an image flashed in my mind: the same dresser with a clutter of books and jewelry and colognes by a vase of flowers.

The image had vanished when Oswald came to face me. He looked more nervous than I’d seen him yet and said, “How’s your fauxoir going?”

“Fauxoir? That’s the perfect term for it. Why didn’t I think of that?”

He smiled briefly and took my hands in his. “I had a good talk with Lily last night. She explained how your parents’ neglect affected your behavior. I should have realized it before, but you always made it seem like a joke. Will you forgive me?”

He smelled wonderful, of the herby lotion he used, and his clear gray eyes looked into mine.

“Of course I will, Oswald.” I tucked my head against his shoulder. I could feel his chest rise and fall.

“Mil, now I understand why you need so much attention. I should have tried to help. I
want
to help.”

I thought he could help me right now by taking off his clothes. “You’ve been very helpful, Oswald.”

He kissed my forehead at the temple, making me nuzzle closer to him. “Milagro, I want to make you happy.”

I hoped he would drop his trousers, but instead he dropped down on one knee and then reached into his pocket. He held out a ring with a huge, glittering yellow diamond in a classic setting. “Will you marry me, Milagro de Los Santos?”

I stared from the ringasaurus to Oswald.

Smiling, he said, “It’s your engagement ring. Before you hit your head, you told me you still loved me.”

“But it’s so soon, Oswald!” I was just as thrilled by the offer as I was shocked by the suddenness.

“I know, but we don’t have to set a date. We can wait until you remember your love for me, or until it develops again,” he said, still holding out the ring. “I brought you into my life, my world, Milagro, and I will always do my duty by you.”