The Memory of All That (11 page)

Chapter 21

Jonathan’s forehead wrinkled, and he studied his hands, which were clasped together in his lap. He seemed to be in deep thought.

“When we were in the living room, I told you who those men in the pictures were.”

“Yes, sweetie, I know. That was this morning, just a while ago. Can you think of another time I was in any of these rooms? Before I went away, I mean.”

Jonathan twisted his hands together tightly. It seemed to Marnie as though her question had upset him. She thought there must have been some incident that had happened earlier, something he didn’t want to tell her about. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to distress him. She wouldn’t force him to remember something he’d rather forget.

“That’s OK if you don’t.”

“I don’t,” he said, a relieved expression spreading over his face. “I don’t remember ever being in any of the rooms with you before. Just yesterday and today.”

“OK. Let’s forget it. We’ll start all over again from when I came back, and you can forget anything that happened before then. OK?”

He nodded.

“Are there any games or puzzles in this room that are yours?”

He slid from the chair and ran over to a cabinet. He threw open the doors and started to search through the boxes.

I must have really been some kind of a pathetic mother if my son doesn’t even want to talk about what went on before,
Marnie thought.
I’ve forgotten it, and he obviously wants to. So we’ll just put the past in the past and start over.

“Here’s a puzzle Daddy and I like to work together,” Jonathan said, pulling a colorful box from the stack.

“Would you like to work it with me?” Marnie asked.

“Yes. We work puzzles on this table,” he said, as he opened the box and dumped the pieces on the table in front of the window and spread them out. “First you turn all the pieces right side up,” he said, demonstrating. “And then you find the edges. See?” he said, holding up a piece to show Marnie. “See how it’s straight on one side?”

“Yes, I see that. I can see you really know how to do this. You must be a very good puzzle worker.”

“I am. Daddy says so,” he answered proudly.

While they were working the puzzle, Mrs. Tucker came to the door. “I’m back from the dentist, Mrs. Barrett. I can take Jonathan upstairs now, if you wish.”

Marnie noticed the crestfallen look that spread across Jonathan’s face.

“I’d just as soon keep him with me, Mrs. Tucker. He’s great company. You go on and rest. Take a nap if you want. Jonathan and I are doing just fine.”

Jonathan’s face beamed with that, and when Mrs. Tucker left, they went back to their project.

When the picture of marine animals and ocean waves was assembled, admired, and taken apart again, Marnie asked, “So, what should we do next?”

“I like games.”

“Then let’s play a game. What do you have?”

Jonathan proceeded to find a game and instruct her in the rules. After half an hour of winning and losing game pieces, she asked, “Do you have any more games?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered.

How sad,
she thought.
How many games there must be for children his age, and he only has one. Doesn’t anyone ever buy him anything?
Then the truth hit her; she was the one who should have been buying them.
I’m going to have to do something about this. If I’m going to be a good mother, I need to get him things he needs. There is obviously no shortage of money in this house. I’ll have to talk to David about buying some things for my son.

“Are there any playing cards here?”

“Sure,” he said as he pulled open a drawer in the table and produced a deck.

“Do you ever play Go Fish?”

Jonathan looked puzzled. “Gold Fish?”

“No, Go Fish.”

Marnie explained the game as he sat in rapt attention.

After playing for some time, Jonathan once again pronounced the dreaded “Go Fish,” and Marnie moaned in exaggerated despair. As he cackled delightedly, a voice sounded from the doorway.

“It sounds like someone’s having fun in here!”

“Daddy!” Jonathan rushed to hug his father around the knees. “We’re playing Go Fish!”

“So I heard.”

“I learned how. And I got threes. And she needed sevens. And I didn’t have any, and I told her to Go Fish!” he related animatedly.

“This game is a lot more fun with three people instead of two,” Marnie said.

“Please, Daddy, please play with us.”

“Well, just for a little bit. I just came home to see how you were doing,” David said, looking directly at Marnie.

“We’re doing fine. We’ve worked a puzzle and played a game with cherries and buckets, which he says is the only game he has, and now we’re playing Go Fish,” she said, smiling broadly at David.

After two rousing rounds of Jonathan’s now-favorite game, David called a halt.

“I think it’s time for lunch. I’ll join you and then I have to get back to work.”

Jonathan gathered the cards and put them back into the drawer.

As they walked down the hall, David told Jonathan, “You better wash up before going to the kitchen. We’ll meet you there.”

“OK,” Jonathan replied and opened the last door on the right which was obviously a powder room.

“I think I’d better wash my hands, too,” Marnie said.

“There’s another powder room off the east hall, too,” David replied as they walked through the living room.

“Will Ruth be joining us for lunch?”

“No. Mother eats breakfast and lunch in her suite of rooms. It’s like a separate apartment for her. She does like to have dinner here,” he said as they passed through the dining room. “I think you are recovered enough to join us tonight.”

“All right. What time?”

“Six o’clock. Be on time.” He glanced at her attire. “Mother is old school. You’d better dress more formally than jeans. Wear a dress.”

Chapter 22

“What do you wear to dinner with someone who hates you?” Marnie mused aloud as she looked through her closet. With as many choices as she had, she was having trouble coming up with something appropriate. She had tried on several dresses, but when she looked in the cheval mirror, she realized each was too short, too tight, or showed too much cleavage for a family dinner.

Where in the world did I wear all these things?
she wondered again.

Finally, she came upon a pink knit dress with long sleeves and a high, rounded neckline. The hemline reached mid-calf, and when she tried it on, it fit perfectly. She added high-heeled black boots and admired the look.

It needs a piece of jewelry
, she reflected. Rummaging through the drawers in the dressing room didn’t produce anything suitable and then she remembered seeing something in the drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. Among the bits and pieces, she found a small, ornately jeweled pin. Only costume jewelry, she was sure, but it was a nice brooch from years gone by, a circle of silver swirls and leaves, set with pink, ruby, and clear stones.

Satisfied at last with her outfit, she added a touch of lipstick and went downstairs. The big grandfather clock standing in the foyer was chiming six when she reached the last step. David was pulling out a chair for his mother as she entered the dining room.

“Good evening,” she greeted them.

“Good evening,” David said as he rounded the table. She thought his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Good evening, Ruth.” She was determined to be pleasant to her mother-in-law, though she was in agreement that Ruth had every right to be angry with her.

The older woman remained silent.

“Mother, let’s do our best to get along tonight.”

“I don’t know why you are bending over backwards to be nice to a woman who cuckolded you and stole from you—from us. What she did endangers not only your future, but your son’s and mine as well. She ought to be in jail like the criminal she is, not sitting down to dinner with us.”

“I asked Marnie to join us for dinner tonight. She’s not going to remember anything sitting in her room alone for meals. I’m hopeful that something we say, some conversation, will trigger her memory, bring back what she’s lost.”

“And you believe this—this ridiculous story of hers? You believe she can’t remember anything before the day she came stumbling back here?”

“Yes, I do believe it, and so does Doctor Means. If you were around her for long and were open-minded enough, you’d believe it, too. She simply doesn’t behave like she used to.”

At that moment Mrs. Grady came through the swinging door from the kitchen bearing a platter, which she sat at the end of the large table where David, Ruth, and Marnie were seated.

“A glorious roast, if I do say so meself. ‘Twere a good cut and roasted up nicely, it did.”

With this pronouncement she left the dining room and returned with a bowl of potatoes and carrots, Mary following along with fragrant rolls and a bowl of salad.

Marnie spread her napkin in her lap.

“This looks absolutely delicious, Mrs. Grady. I didn’t think I was hungry until I smelled your cooking.”

“Well, now. Everyone enjoy. Is there anything else you need before I leave for the night?”

“No, nothing, Mrs. Grady,” Ruth said. “Mary can take care of our needs.”

“There’s raspberry mousse for dessert,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen. “Mary will fetch it when you’re ready.”

“You’re lucky to have such an excellent cook,” Marnie said.

“She’s too familiar,” Ruth grumbled. “When I have a formal affair, I have to tell her to stay in the kitchen. She would be chatting with the guests if I didn’t put my foot down.”

“She’s been here since I was young,” David said. “She’s like one of the family.”

Ruth sniffed at that statement.

“Everything I’ve eaten has been delicious: blueberry muffins, soup, this roast, and all the meals she sent up to me. Every meal is perfect.” She was wondering how many hours the older woman worked every day, but she didn’t think she could ask such a thing. David spoke up, though, and seemed to read her thoughts.

“Mrs. Grady lives over what we call the carriage house in the back of this house. She has a nice apartment there. She says she likes just walking across the yard and not having to worry about getting to and from work. She fixes breakfast for everyone, and sometimes she fixes lunch. It depends on whether anyone is going to be home or not. If it’s just Jonathan and Mrs. Tucker, she may leave soup or simple leftovers for them to warm up. Most afternoons Mrs. Grady goes to her apartment and takes a nap then returns to finish preparing dinner. She has Saturday and Sunday off, and we eat what there is or go out. Mother likes to eat at the country club with her friends.”

“It sounds like that works out well for everyone,” Marnie agreed.

Ruth ate silently, not adding anything further to the conversation.

“I see you found your mother’s brooch,” David commented, looking at the ornament pinned to her dress.

Marnie’s hand went to the silver circle, and her fingers traced the leaves. “My mother’s? This was my mother’s?”

Ruth paused her eating, her hand frozen in place. She looked as if the bite of food she had just taken was rotten. As she stared at the jeweled adornment, her mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Yes,” David answered. “She wore it to work often. I complimented her on it once, and she told me it was precious to her. She said it had been her mother’s,” he said, glancing at his mother.

“I found it in a drawer. I had no idea.”

Ruth took the napkin from her lap and placed it beside her plate.

“I can’t eat any more. I’m going to my room,” she pronounced, and before David could get up and help her with her chair, she had risen and marched from the room.

Marnie looked helplessly at David.

“It wasn’t anything you said or did”—he laid his hand atop hers and squeezed it—“I shouldn’t have brought up your mother. I told you she was sensitive about Pamela.”

He withdrew his hand and started eating again. “I appreciate your dressing appropriately and being on time tonight.”

“I take it that is something unusual for me, since you’re mentioning it?”

“You might say that. It was hard for you to be anywhere on time, and it drives my mother crazy for people to be late for anything, especially dinner. I sometimes think you do it just to aggravate her. And when she complains about the way you dress, you’ll wear an even more provocative outfit the next time.”

Marnie didn’t know what to say about the actions she couldn’t remember.

“I have something to confess,” David said, glancing up at her.

“Something to confess?”

“Yes. This was a test, of sorts. I wanted to see if you would be late, as usual, and what you would choose to wear.”

“I see. Well, it almost got me. I was almost late because I had to try on so many dresses to find one that wasn’t too short or too low cut, much less too tight.”

He laughed. “I imagine that’s right.”

Mary entered the room from the kitchen. “Is there anything you need, Mr. David?”

“We’re ready for dessert now, Mary.” He turned to Marnie. “Am I rushing you?”

“No. If I don’t stop now I won’t have room for raspberry mousse. It sounds delicious. And”—she laughed—“all my dresses will be too tight for sure.”

David laughed with her. “Well, you’ve never shied away from shopping for new dresses.”

Suddenly, she became serious. “David, that’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Shopping?” he asked.

He thinks I want to shop for myself
, she thought.

“Yes, for Jonathan. He doesn’t seem to have many games and puzzles. The books he has look well worn. Does Mrs. Tucker shop for him? Or do you?”

David’s face cleared and then a sheepish look came over him.

“To tell the truth, I am the one who is supposed
to.
Mrs. Tucker can barely be persuaded to buy clothing for him. I’ve been so busy at work I haven’t lived up to my obligations in that regard. What with your disappearance and all the trouble surrounding it, I haven’t thought about shopping for Jonathan. Mrs. Tucker told me several weeks ago he was outgrowing his clothes.”

“Yes, I noticed how short his pants are. They grow fast at that age.”

“How do you know?”

She shot him a puzzled look. “I don’t know how I know. Do I know anyone who has a child his age?” She dropped her head, shamefaced. “Anyone besides me—us, I mean?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe one of your friends from the Roadhouse?”

“I can’t remember, David. I just can’t remember. I just know little children grow fast.”

“I’ll have to do something about it,” he said. “I’ll have to take some time and do it.”

“I’d like to do it, if you’ll let me, but I don’t know how to manage it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean do I drive? Do I have a car? Where do I go to shop? What do I use for money?”

“Oh, all that.”

“Yes, all that.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, since you came back without your wallet, you don’t have any of your usual necessities. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go tomorrow and see about getting you a new driver’s license. I’ll give you some money and a credit card. But”—he paused and looked sternly at her—“it will have a limit on it.”

“Fair enough.”

“You have a car in the garage.” He took her left hand in his. “But you are missing something far more important than your driver’s license and credit cards.”

“What? What else am I missing?”

Instead of squeezing her hand as he had before, he turned it and traced her ring finger from the tip to the base. “Where, my dear, is your wedding ring and the three carat so-called engagement ring you insisted I buy you after we eloped?”