by Amy Gaudette
“Go on, Bear. Go play while it’s still light.”
Bear tipped his nose up in the air. A scent! Off, down the stairs he ran, taking her advice. She hoped he wasn’t chasing the cats.
Megan looked up and saw Dr. Timmons questioning eyes on her.
“Okay. So, yesterday, when Mayor Richard was being interviewed . . . when I saw his face, I just freaked. I was like a little kid, hiding from a monster. I have no idea why. I did some research on the computer today. I think he and Nancy, the woman who wrote the letter, are from the same town. I compared it with the postmark on the letter. He has a great reputation. I’m thinking that maybe he reminded me of someone or something else. I’m sorry. It’s like trying to see through a snowstorm.” Megan’s heart started pounding again. Stop. Stay calm. To talk about it brought it too close. She fought to remain in control.
“Assuming you saw him on the computer . . . did you have the same reaction?”
Megan hesitated and diverted her eyes.
“Sam. I want to talk about this. I do. I am so grateful to you. It’s just . . . these hidden memories are like lurking beasts. I instantly become a little girl. Terror that I can’t even begin to communicate takes . . . takes the very breath from my lungs. I can’t look at it. I need to run, to get as far away from it as I can.” Megan stopped again to try to gain control of her emotions.
“To run and forget it ever existed, right?” Sam’s words were so gently spoken, Megan barely heard them.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
Her eyes focused on the empty dish in front of her.
“Megan. Look at me.”
She forced herself to look into Sam’s eyes.
“Whatever is out there. We face it together. I don’t believe you came into my life, into Rose’s life, by accident. If you can trust me, talk to me. Tell me everything you remember from the beginning.”
Megan took a deep breath. Images of a little red-headed girl flashed in front of her eyes. She saw the girl running for her life, through thick woods. Falling. Getting up again. Falling. Yes. A door was opening inside her. Just a little more . . .
But the moment was instantly shattered by a panicked voice hollering for Sam. Megan’s heart jumped into her throat. That same nameless fear stole her breath away.
Rose frantically flew open the kitchen door to the porch.
“Oh, I am so sorry. Sam, there’s been a terrible accident. A six-car pile up just outside of town on Route 7. Two cars down the cliff. Ambulances everywhere. They were only letting a few cars through.”
Her eyes were wide and her face pale. “Megan, I saw that black sports car on the side of the road. It had hit a tree. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the same driver that almost hit us!” Her voice taut with anxiety. Her hands shook.
Sam whipped out his cell phone. The screen remained black. His face reflected immediate guilt. He jumped up from the table.
“Megan. I am so sorry.” His eyes pleaded that she would understand. His face filled with frustration. “I need to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He gave Rose a searching look. “Thank you, Rose.” And ran off.
Rose sat down next to Megan with a loud thud. Her breathing slowed. Her normally neat-as-a-pin braid out of place. She grabbed Sam’s glass of iced tea and took a long drink.
“Are you okay, Rose?”
“I think so. Oh, such a terrible thing. I often take Route 7 just to look at the view. I wish I hadn’t.” Rose’s voice trembled.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Megan probed gently.
“No. Not really, but I don’t want to burden you. You have enough troubles of your own. You don’t need to listen to my problems.” Rose wiped her face with a napkin. She couldn't seem to stop the flow of tears from spilling over.
“Please, Rose. I may not be the best listener, but after all you’ve done for me . . .”
“I lost one of my best friends today. She was an older sister to me.” Rose wept. Her face filled with sorrow.
“She had fallen, and then came down with pneumonia. I know Sam did all he could. She was never really healthy. I wish . . . I wish I could have said goodbye. I should have been with her.”
Megan moved closer to Rose and wrapped her arm around her. She handed her another tissue, feeling out of place.
“I am so sorry, Rose.”
Megan said little else. What could she say? If she hadn’t been here, maybe Rose would have been with her friend. All she was thinking of was herself, her own little world. Sam must have had a bad day as well. He looked exhausted when he arrived. Who knows what went on in his day. Megan’s heart filled with regret. I shouldn’t be here.
Rose seemed to pull herself together. Megan offered to do the dishes. Rose grabbed the plates. “Let’s just stick them in the dishwasher for tonight. I think I will take a bath and head to bed early. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Oh, no. I’m fine. I think I’ll go to bed early as well. Goodnight, Rose.”
Megan began feeling the edge of all she had been avoiding creep toward her. Like the night, it began slowly, almost invisibly. Now, it’s dark fingers crept out in the open, taunting her, beckoning her.
She walked slowly upstairs, hating the isolated feeling in her soul. What do I do now? She had two choices. Run . . . or . . .
She could go back to Piedmont. Face it. And maybe find Nancy.
Even as she mulled this she knew the folly of it. She had very little money. But more memories were starting to return, and someone had to know her. After all, if she had been in the foster system, someone had records.
Megan sat hard on her bed. Her mind a storm of conflicting thought. I’ll go to bed, maybe more memory will return by morning.
Chapter 10
Rose woke that morning with a sense of apprehension. Not in a long time had she felt such anxiety. A heavy weight pressed on her, and knew she needed to pray before she did anything else. She grabbed her housecoat and headed downstairs for a cup of tea. Megan’s door was still closed, but she heard Bear downstairs, whining to go out. Rose turned the kettle on for tea, and opened the back door to let Megan’s dog out. Soon the kettle hummed with insistence, and she made her morning favorite, Rooibos tea. Cup in hand, she sat by the bay window looking out over the backyard. A scratch at the door, and Rose went to let Bear back in.
“You were quick this morning, pup. Go find Megan, boy. Megan will feed you.” Bear hesitated for a moment, and ran to the stairs. Rose heard him thumping up to Megan’s room, whining at the door.
Rose breathed deeply as the sun slowly established itself on the waiting gardens, sipping her tea and praying to find peace. This morning, it was elusive.
Loud thumps down the stairs told her Bear had not been successful. Rose wondered if she should go up. Megan really wanted to take care of Bear in the morning, and maybe she would want to go into town with her after breakfast.
Still trying to shake the feeling of dread, she decided she would like Megan’s company anyway. She put her tea down and went up to wake her.
Bear followed, eager to greet his friend. Rose knocked at the door, quietly at first then more insistently. Bear barked his two cents’ worth, but still no reply. Rose opened the door and peered in.
“Megan?”
The bed was made. The towels folded neatly on the quilt. Rose knew at once. Even so, her hands trembled as she reached for a slip of paper left on the desk.
Dear Rose,
I cannot express how grateful I am for all you have done for me. This is not a goodbye, but a see-you-later. Will you take care of Bear for me? I am leaving my journal for safekeeping. Please feel free to show it to Sam. It’s all I can remember at this point, and I believe it will explain some things. I must go home. At least, I need to go back to the last memory I have. As a child, something happened to me, and I must return to see if I can find out what it was. I think the only way forward is to go back. I am not so afraid anymore. It must be your prayers.
> Tell Dr. Timmons I said thank you, and I’ll see him later as well.
Megan
Rose sighed. She made her way downstairs, picked up the car keys, and drove to the hospital. In the midst of the death of her good friend, the tragic accident, she needed to give Sam the news. She caught sight of him at the end of the hall, jotting notes down on a chart. Injured patients on cots still lined the hallway, where the overflow of car accident victims were being cared for.
“Hi, Rose.” Sam’s smile dulled in a moment. “By the look on your face I’d say you don’t have good news.”
“Oh Sam. She’s gone. I went up this morning, but she had left in the night.” Rose bit her lip, trying to keep a tight lid on her emotions, not wanting to add to Sam’s burdens.
Sam looked down and finished writing his notes. He took Rose by the arm and led her around beeping equipment to an open spot by a window.
“Did she leave a note?” Sam’s voice was steady, comfortable, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Yes. She did. She left Bear and her journal. She wanted to keep it safe, and she said if you wanted to, go ahead and read it. It was all she could remember up to a certain point in her childhood.” Rose felt the cold weight of despair. She had failed Megan. God sent her to Rose, and she had failed her. I’m sorry.
Rose knew she had to check the cold darkness she felt slipping under her guard, for Sam’s sake if nothing else.
Rose squared her shoulders and gave Sam her best smile. “How did she know where to go?”
“She thought she lived in Piedmont at a foster home when she was younger.”
Rose struggled. “We will try to help her, right?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be by later, after I sleep a few hours. We can talk if you want to, read her journal, and eat some of those awesome cookies you bake.”
She gave another half smile. “Food makes everything better, right?”
“Only your food, Rose.” The words were meant to lift the moment, but his face said otherwise and his retreating footsteps were heavy.
Rose stared after him, wishing there was something she could do.
Chapter 11
A slow, controlled burn coursed its way through Richard’s veins. He lay on his cot, one of many lining the hallway in Rogan’s Pass’ backcountry hospital. The pain in his stomach had begun to recede after a second helping of meds. Took ‘em long enough to give them to me. Seeing one of the doctors heading for him he sat up in his bed, making sure he got the attention he wanted. He wanted an explanation as to why his leg still ached, and why the heck was he still in the hallway? Richard opened his mouth to berate the doctor for the situation when an older woman with a long gray braid walked in and took the man’s attention elsewhere. Where did he know her from? Ah, yes. She was the woman he almost ran down in the street the other day. She and that red-haired babe. Wait. Why did they seem so familiar? He eavesdropped on the private conversation.
“ . . . Piedmont . . .”
“We gave Megan what we could . . . she left us . . .”
Megan? Piedmont? He had known a young girl with matchstick red hair named Megan. Oh yes, he remembered that girl well. Same red hair. How such a little runt could have possibly alluded his men was beyond him. His only mistake, his only untidy loose end. She had been whisked away by that Nancy woman. And that older woman, Richard knew her from his past. He was sure of that. The faded southern accent, pathetic blue eyes. She was older and graying, but Richard was sure he knew who she was. She used to work for him.
If that little girl was Megan grown up, why were they together? Plotting something?
Richard felt a wave of paranoia setting in and he didn’t like it. He had to be cautious. Ever vigilant. There was no room for error. Richard heard his father’s ranting words over and over in his mind. Make no mistakes. Ever. Eliminate weakness. Pursue perfection. He still felt the straps across his back when on the rare occasion he did mess up. Purifying my failings. Richard snorted. He was way more than his dad had ever been. Still, he felt his dad would have been proud of him. He had learned from the master. Now he mastered those around him.
What else had they said? A journal. She left a journal.
Richard laughed to himself. Here he was about to berate the second-rate doc for the conditions in the hall. Instead, he stumbled upon gold. To think I said there was no god.
Elections were coming and the only loose end he’d never been able to tie up just walked back into his life. But . . . he needed to find her again.
She had seen him. She had seen everything that had happened that day. He searched for her until she had been lost in the deranged foster care system and it nearly cost him his sanity. Megan. To think I almost ran you down, you and Rose. I remember you too, Rose. I would have loved to kill two birds with one stone. But . . . it wouldn’t be good publicity in an election year. It seemed the stars had aligned. Yes, he mastered the heavens as well. And there was a journal. Time to call in a favor. I want that book tonight.
Richard sighed while listening to the rest of the conversation. So Megan was headed back to Piedmont. And Rose is still an insignificant, whining bug. She would remember working for him, he was sure of that. Still, this little stint in the hospital turned out quite well for him. Time to head home. There was a red-headed young woman who would be waiting for him there.
Richard lay back down on his cot, taking deep breaths, centering his emotions that were careening from one end of the chart to the other. He stretched out his injured leg, willing the cramping to subside. His impatience smoldered. Pain began to rear its ugly head in his stomach again.
Control. Deep breaths. Control.
All it had taken to pull him out of his power zone was that glimpse of long red hair he had nearly missed running down in the street. That mass of repugnant red, flagrant and offensive hair and all it stood for.
Richard rubbed his hand over his protesting stomach. He’d had a premonition about this. It started the last time he was on his yacht with Tina. She had been spitting nails at him, spouting off about how he’d never get away with this . . . blah, blah, blah. She and her newspaper had been so helpful to him for a while. It was too bad she didn’t know when to shut up.
Funny. He hadn’t given it any thought at the time, but that’s when his stomach started causing him a lot of trouble. Stabbing pain, extreme nausea. It came and went. It was more annoying than anything. He needed to take time for meditation, to center himself again, and it would all be fine. Money and power were at his command. His boundaries were about to be stretched out farther than ever when he became governor. He did what he had to do for the betterment of those who served him. He was the puppeteer and he played those around him. Soon there would be no limit to his power. Now, it necessitated finding that woman who had dared cross his path again.
A flashback in his memory scourged him with such fury his grip nearly tore the sheets. He felt his blood pulse through his veins with hatred. Oh yes, he knew her. But worse, she knew him. The mousy orphan girl that just happened to be assigned to the Stantons. What were the chances it would have been Megan? Dear Megan. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. She would, indeed, need to be stalked, like predator does its prey, and silenced. Richard’s political trail had just turned red hot. He was running out of time.
Chapter 12
Sam sprawled, exhausted, on the couch at his lakehouse. The sun had long since set, and his body would go no further. He had seen so much suffering the past few days, though he knew it could have been worse. Rose had gone to bed, and Megan’s journal lay in his hands. He felt his eyes droop. He should go to bed. He had decided to spend the night at the lakehouse for some peace and quiet, and he didn’t need to go in to work in the morning. He would read only a few pages tonight, and call it quits. Sam opened to the first page.
My memories are slowly returning. I get bits and pieces and Dr. Timmons has encouraged me to write them down. I am so glad he did. It has really helped. He and Rose have been like an
gels to me. I hope to repay them some day.
Day 1
I had a dream last night that I used to have when I was a kid. I had forgotten about it for years. I don’t know what triggered it, but it was as crystal clear as it was simple. A strong voice calling to me over and over. “Look for the light, Megan. Run to the light.”
Day 2
Awful dreams last night. I watched a young girl, panic stricken, tear through the dark woods. Her face streaked with dirt, her eyes filled with fear. Branches grabbed at her hair, attempting to stop her. She kept trying to catch her breath and keep running. Her head was constantly turning back, looking behind her. Confusion was tripping her up, she didn’t know what direction to go anymore. Ahead of her, a beam of light broke into the woods. She ran toward it, saw another ahead, and ran to that one. She kept running after these bright spots in the woods, until she ran right in front of me. I stood at the edge of the woods. As she ran past me, she looked up, right into my eyes. I think she was about to say something but I woke up. I don’t know who this girl was, maybe my sister or something. But I know I need to help her.
Sam’s heart went out to Megan. He knew what she was writing must have cost her. The words were too straightforward, almost void of feelings. He was aware she was trying to keep a world of pain and trauma tightly sealed in a small room deep inside. Sam grieved for her. Somehow, he needed to find her. He had found his heart inextricably bound to hers. He would do whatever it took to help her. He got up and grabbed a large cup of coffee. He wasn’t going to stop reading until he finished her story.
Day 3
Rose and I walked through the gardens today. She has so much wisdom, and knows so much about life. Somewhere along the way I think I stopped growing, stopped living. I can tell there is a place inside her that speaks from past pain. But somehow she has managed to move past it. Almost like she limps on the inside. But there is so much love, so much acceptance of me. I wish I was bold enough to ask questions. For now, I will listen, breath in the fragrant air, and search for that place of rest that both she and Sam have. I envy them. I want what they have . . . maybe someday, when I have stopped running.