If Memory Serves

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  Memory looked at the number, picked up the phone, dialed, then quickly hung up before it could connect. Opening her purse, she put the paper with the number inside of it. After a few minutes, she opened up her purse again, took out the paper, stared at the number, dialed, then waited—practically holding her breath—as the phone began to ring.

  Chapter 5

  For Jacob My servant’s sake, and Israel Mine elect, I have even called thee by thy name: I have surnamed thee, though thou hast not known Me.

  Isaiah 45:4

  Johnnie Mae went downstairs to the game room. Landris rushed over to her as soon as she walked in. “How did it go?” he asked.

  “I’m giving her some time to process what I’ve just told her. I think she’s going to give Sarah a call.”

  “Daddy Landris, are you gonna play or what?” Princess Rose asked as she placed the hockey puck on the table and stood in position to slam it to her stepfather’s side.

  “Honey, why don’t you go and play the arcade machine while Daddy Landris and I talk for a little while?”

  “Okay, I’ll go play Ms. Pac-Man or something,” Princess Rose said, shaking her head. She dragged over to the arcade machine, climbed up on the bar stool, and pressed the button to start the game. As the familiar music blasted, Princess Rose began moving the joystick.

  Landris and Johnnie Mae went and sat down at the table that also doubled as a checker- and chessboard.

  “So, what happened?” Landris asked, leaning in close.

  “She admitted she’s Memory. She thought I was working with a private investigator. At first, she didn’t believe me when I told her I wasn’t, nor was I trying to trap her,” Johnnie Mae said.

  “She didn’t believe you were being on the up-and-up with her?”

  “Not at first. I think she believes me now. I told her a little about Sarah, and we touched momentarily on the Alexandrite necklace.”

  Landris retrieved the checkers from inside the drawer of the table and placed them on the surface. “Did she happen to mention what became of the necklace?”

  “No,” Johnnie Mae said, pulling out all the black checkers and lining them up on her side of the board.

  “Did you even ask her?”

  “No.”

  Landris stopped and looked at her. “No?”

  She widened her eyes and smiled. “No.”

  He looked at the checkers on her side. “Why do you always get to have the black checkers first every time we play?”

  “Who said we were playing?”

  He pointed at her side. “You have your checkers lined up like we are.”

  Johnnie Mae leaned in. “I was busying my hands. Is that all right with you?”

  Landris set up the red checkers on his side. “Fine. I was merely asking.” After his checkers were in place, he signaled for her to make the first move. “And why are we all down here instead of up there with Memory right now?”

  “I’m giving her time to think about what she wants to do, and hopefully to call Sarah. I told her I’d be about twenty minutes, in case she did decide to call and verify what I’ve told her so far.”

  “And you told her that Sarah was her real mother?”

  “I had to.” Johnnie Mae moved another checker piece after Landris moved. “She was trying to leave, so I had to do something fast. She had a taxi here and had managed to drag her luggage down the stairs.”

  “She lugged those bags down the stairs by herself?” Landris jumped her checker and removed it off the board. “She’s pretty tough for an older woman.”

  “Yeah. She had to make three trips to do it, unlike you, with your strong muscles, who was able to take the four pieces up in two. I started to come and get you, but I didn’t want to chance her leaving before I was able to tell her about Sarah. I told her enough to get her attention. She knows Mamie wasn’t her biological mother and that Sarah is. She’s aware that we know all about the Alexandrite necklace. I figure when she arrives in Asheville, Sarah will fill her in on whatever else she needs or may want to know.” Johnnie Mae triple jumped his checkers and removed them.

  “You’ve been down here for about twenty minutes now. Don’t you want to go back up and check on her?”

  “I don’t want her to think we don’t trust her,” Johnnie Mae said. “Let’s give her another five to ten more minutes.”

  Landris made a double jump. “Crown me,” he said with a grin.

  Johnnie Mae added a checker on top of the checker that was now in the king spot. She glanced at the Wurlitzer jukebox. Landris noticed she was looking at it. He stood, pulled her up next to him, and with his arms wrapped around her, walked her over to it. Locating the song he was searching for, he pressed the corresponding buttons.

  “Unwritten,” a song by Natasha Bedingfield, began to play. Princess Rose immediately stopped what she was doing and hopped down off the black swerving bar stool. She began singing the words to the song—a song that was definitely a hit in their house. The entire family loved it. Landris began to twirl both mother and daughter around ever so gently during certain parts of the song. He started “Walking the Floor” with Johnnie Mae, a dance that could be crowned the black waltz. Princess Rose continued to sing her heart out.

  When the song ended, all three of them laughed, clapped, and cheered.

  Princess Rose jumped up and down. “Play it again, Daddy Landris! Play it again! That’s my song!” She began to sing “I am unwritten” without the music, then said, “I love that song! Oh, please, play it again!”

  Johnnie Mae smiled, leaned down, and kissed her daughter on the top of her head. “Another time, sweetheart. We have company upstairs. We don’t want to be rude and leave her alone too long, now, do we?”

  Princess Rose lifted her head high and opened her arms in a dramatic fashion. “Then let’s invite Ms. Elaine down here so she can have some fun with the song, too!”

  “It’s suppertime. Maybe Ms. Elaine will come down afterward and enjoy the song with us. We’ll see how things go.” Johnnie Mae tapped Princess Rose on her nose and then planted a kiss on it. “All right, let’s go.” She pointed toward the stairs. “March.”

  Princess Rose began to step hard in a military-type fashion as instructed, Johnnie Mae followed her, and Landris pulled up the rear.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Johnnie Mae noticed how quiet it was. There was no sign of Memory in the den.

  “Where is she?” Princess Rose asked. “Ms. Elaine!” Princess Rose yelled. “Ms. Elaine!”

  “Princess Rose, don’t yell like that. She’s probably upstairs. She may be on the phone up there.”

  “You want me to run upstairs and get her?” Princess Rose asked, purposely swinging her two plaits from side to side.

  “No. You and Daddy Landris go wash up and set the table. I’ll go check on her.”

  Landris reached out and caught Johnnie Mae’s hand before she could walk away. He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.

  Johnnie Mae smiled, then continued on. When she reached the bedroom where Memory was staying, she knocked on the closed door. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer. “Memory . . .?” Johnnie Mae said, knocking louder. “Are you okay?”

  Nothing but silence answered her. She opened the door slowly. Still no sign of Memory. Walking over to the bathroom door, she knocked on it. “Memory? Are you in there?” She wasn’t in there, either. Johnnie Mae quickly made her way back downstairs.

  “We set the table in the nook area so it would feel a little cozier,” Landris said. He stopped and looked at Johnnie Mae. “What’s wrong? Is everything all right?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yes. Gone. The bedroom’s empty. She’s not upstairs.”

  “Maybe she just stepped outside for some fresh air,” Landris said.

  Johnnie Mae thought for a second, then hurriedly walked back into the foyer. Landris followed her. “Why didn’t I see that before?” she said. “Her suitcases are go
ne. They were right by the door. They’re not upstairs. She’s gone, Landris.” She sighed hard.

  “Before you get upset, let’s see whether she left a note or something.”

  Searching in the den where Memory was last, neither one of them found a thing.

  “I don’t believe this,” Johnnie Mae said, disappointed. “How could she just leave like that without saying a word? What am I going to tell Sarah now?” Johnnie Mae shook her head as she started walking out of the den area.

  Landris grabbed her by her shoulders. “Johnnie Mae, it’s not your responsibility. Sarah hired the best people out there to find her, and look—you came closer to getting her to Sarah than any of them have been able to do so far. You did your best. Now, don’t go beating yourself up about it. She may contact us later or just come back on her own.”

  Johnnie Mae shook her head again emphatically. “She’s not coming back.” She pulled away from his grasp and continued out of the room.

  “What are you going to do?” Landris asked.

  “Call Sarah and let her know Memory’s gone. I’m sure this is going to devastate her. We were so close, and I allowed her to slip through my fingers.”

  Johnnie Mae walked up the stairs to her room to get Sarah’s number. She sat on her bed then dialed the number.

  “Sarah, this is Johnnie Mae. Yes, I know you’re excited about the possibility of finding Memory. Well, I did find her. Memory was here at my house when I spoke with you earlier. But something happened since then. I’m sorry, Sarah. I told her the truth about you, but she must not have believed me, because she left. I am so sorry, Sarah. So very, very sorry. We were so close, and it looks like I ended up letting her get away.”

  Chapter 6

  He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might He increaseth strength.

  Isaiah 40:29

  Lena was at Sarah’s house. She and her husband, Richard, had gotten in their car and driven up to Asheville almost immediately following Sarah’s call late that evening.

  “I believe Johnnie Mae’s found Memory,” Sarah had said to Lena over the phone after she hung up with Johnnie Mae. “She was talking hypothetically, but I know better. If it turns out it’s her,” Sarah said, “Johnnie Mae’s going to bring her to me tomorrow.”

  If this ended up being the case, Lena didn’t want Memory arriving at Sarah’s without someone present who truly knew Memory. So she and Richard had quickly thrown a few things in a single suitcase and made the four-hour drive in record time from Atlanta to Asheville, arriving a little after eleven o’clock that night. That was when Lena learned Johnnie Mae had called back and confirmed it was, indeed, Memory.

  Lying in bed, dabbing her eyes as tears rolled out, it was evident Sarah was tired. Almost ninety years old, her body seemed determined to remind her of that. “There’s a problem though,” Sarah said, her chest slowly rising, her breathing noisily shallow.

  “What?” Lena asked. “Memory’s insisting on flying first-class instead of coach?”

  “No. When Johnnie Mae called back, she called to say Memory’s gone.”

  “What? Gone? You mean she left to come up here without Johnnie Mae?”

  “No. It appears she left because she didn’t want to come here at all.” Sarah relaxed more into the pillows stacked behind her.

  “I don’t understand. Didn’t Johnnie Mae tell Memory about you?”

  Sarah took a deep breath and released it. It was almost becoming work for her to breathe these days. “She told her.” Sarah closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and forced a smile. “She told her pretty much everything. That I was her mother, that you and Theresa met me.” Sarah then told her everything that Johnnie Mae had relayed to her.

  “So, what was it? She didn’t believe Johnnie Mae? Did Johnnie Mae not tell her that you’re not well?”

  “Johnnie Mae doesn’t know the status of my health.” She smiled, this time genuinely. “I’m old, Lena. When you get to be my age, things start to break down and wear out. This heart”—she patted her chest softly—“has ticked quite a few beats during its time. Yes, I’m a little worn for wear, but I’m still here. Still trusting and believing God.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how much seeing Memory means to you.”

  Sarah motioned for the glass of water on the nightstand. She took a sip and handed it back to Lena. “And I am not oblivious to how you feel. You’ve made yourself more than clear regarding your thoughts about Memory, my dear. But she’s still my child. My flesh . . . and . . . blood.” Sarah closed her eyes and became eerily silent.

  Lena looked down at the elderly woman, her hair completely gray and willowy. She looked so peaceful lying there. Lena could see her chest rising and falling under the blinding white duvet cover. She leaned down and kissed her grandmother on the forehead. Stepping out of the room, she closed the door gently behind her and slowly walked down the stairs to the parlor.

  “Is she asleep?” Gayle asked. A slim woman in her early forties with caramel brown skin, Gayle was the nursemaid the family had hired to stay with Sarah. Faithful to Sarah and the family, she’d been a true blessing for the past three and a half years. Gayle didn’t look at what she did as a job; it was more of a calling—her ministry.

  “Yes,” Lena said. “She’s asleep. She told me what happened with Memory.”

  Gayle began to nod her head. “Well, it’s good she finally went to sleep,” she said. “She was so excited when she thought at long last she was going to get to meet her daughter. She’d picked out what she was going to wear, even down to the jewelry. It appeared for certain it would happen this time. I hate it’s turned out the way it has.”

  “What happened with Memory?” Richard asked, looking over at Lena. “Did that person end up not being Memory after all?”

  High school sweethearts, now a cute elderly couple, Richard Jordan and Lena Patterson had married June 22, 2002, as part of a double-wedding ceremony. Their daughter, Theresa, and Maurice Greene had been the other couple who took their vows alongside them. That had definitely been a special day. Lena and Theresa had been the most beautiful brides, and the grooms hadn’t been too shabby, either. They married in the church where Bishop Jordan had retired as the pastor years earlier.

  “No, turns out it was Memory, all right,” Lena said. “But she did what she’s famous for doing—left without letting anyone know she was going or without bothering to say good-bye.” Lena was trying, albeit unsuccessfully, not to sound too bitter.

  “I’ll go check on Miss Fleming while you two talk. Do you need anything before I go?” Gayle asked. At five feet eleven, she towered over Lena, even wearing her signature flat, fuchsia tennis-like shoes.

  “We’re fine. Thanks, though,” Lena said.

  “You know where everything is. If I don’t see you before you turn in, have a good night.”

  “Thanks, Gayle. We probably will turn in,” Lena said as she yawned. “We’re not as young as we used to be. That drive seems to drain Richard and me every time.”

  “Speak for yourself, Lena girl. I’m ready to go dancing if you want to,” Richard said.

  Lena fanned her hand at him. “Don’t start nothing, Richard.” She then turned back to Gayle. “How do you think my grandmother is holding up through all of this?”

  “I think she’s doing okay. I will admit, though, she was almost a different person when she got that call today. She even called Minnie, the housekeeper, to come back and give the house a once-over again to ensure everything was perfect, just in case company did show up tomorrow. I sure hate she had the rug yanked out from under her yet again.”

  Lena smiled and nodded without speaking another word. After Gayle left, she turned to Richard. “You ready to go upstairs and turn in?”

  “Truthfully, just thinking of those stairs tires me out. I’m almost considering staying down here and sleeping on this fine pink and white couch.”

  “We could stay in the bedroom down here if you’d prefer. It’s not as l
arge as the one we usually stay in upstairs, but if you really don’t feel like going up, I can bring some of our things back down here,” Lena said.

  “You’ll do no such of a thing. I’ll make it all right. I still have some fire left inside of me.”

  Lena rubbed his bald head. “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “I know.”

  He stood. “Let’s get going.” He held out his arm. “Madam, may I have this dance?”

  Lena laughed and took his arm. “So now we’re going to dance?”

  “Yeah,” he said. He started walking with her holding onto his arm. “I think they call this the two-step. One-two,” he said as he shuffled his feet forward. “One-two.”

  Lena shook her head. “You’re too much.”

  “And while we’re on our way up, you might want to tell me what you’re really thinking about Memory.”

  “Honestly, except for breaking Grandmother’s heart, I can’t say I’m surprised or sorry she disappeared. I know I’m supposed to forgive her, but, Richard, I don’t know if I can. You know the kind of money and wealth Grandmother possesses. I don’t know what Memory will do when she finds out about that.”

  “So Johnnie Mae didn’t tell her that part?”

  “No. According to Grandmother, Johnnie Mae didn’t tell her she was well-off. She only told her that Sarah Fleming was her mother. And you see what she did after she learned that much. Memory—the same old mother I’ve grown to know.”

  “I don’t know, Lena girl. I just have a feeling, down deep in my bones, something’s about to happen around this place. I’m just glad you’re here to see about Sarah.”

  Lena stopped when they reached the top of the stairs and looked directly at him. “And I’m just glad you’re here with me to love on me the way you always do.”

  Richard smiled as he caressed the left side of her face. “Lena girl, there’s no other place I’d want to be except wherever you are. No other place.”