by Edna Curry
With that threat, he stomped out, apparently disappointed that he couldn’t charge her with anything today.
What a grouch, she thought, pushing her lunch table to the side and laying back down. But was he right? Was the address in her purse wrong, too? If so, not only her memories had failed her, but the ID she’d been carrying was wrong as well. Surely the police could figure out the truth, couldn’t they? She’d just have to wait for Mr. Grouch to return with the results of her fingerprints. Anna had assured her that the police knew everything about everybody these days.
After he left and she was alone, Lucy searched her purse. Concealed in an inside zippered pocket, she found several packets of travelers checks, totaling several thousand dollars, all in the name of this Lucille Denton. Well, since the police insisted they were hers, she’d use them. At least she had money to live on until she figured this all out. Maybe that amount of money was what had made the police detective so suspicious. People normally didn’t carry that much cash, did they? They kept their money in banks and wrote checks to pay for things. Or used a credit card. At least they used to. Did they still? Or had that changed as well?
Anna returned, took her vitals again for what seemed the one hundredth time, then unhooked her IV pole and took her for a walk up and down the hall. It felt good to move around a bit, but her left arm and side of her body were bruised and sore. “You’re lucky it’s only bruises,” Anna said. “You didn’t have any broken bones.”
“Yes, I know,” Lucy agreed.
***
Napping, she pictured herself in a school room of young kids about nine years old. A group of small red-painted wooden chairs were arranged in a semi-circle at the front of her classroom. She read to them about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
Then she had the children read to her, a few pages per child, letting them choose their favorite story from a book with a dozen fairy tales in it. Naturally, the boys liked the big bad wolf the best and giggled heartily as they read his threats.
When she awoke, she somehow knew that classroom in her dream was a memory from the past. The children had all been dressed as they would have been in the fifties. She watched the kids on TV now and the boys and girls alike wore jeans and Tee shirts. None of the little girls wore frilly dresses or ribbons in their long pigtails.
Anna appeared again to take her vitals and later a different doctor asked more questions. He asked her medical history. She said, “I’ve always been very healthy. I don’t remember anything.”
“You have an abdominal scar,” he said. “You must have had surgery there: maybe an appendectomy?”
She stared at him. “I’ve never had surgery.”
He lifted her gown and showed her the scar on her stomach. She ran her finger along it, amazed, then, embarrassed, pulled her gown down again and repeated, “I don’t remember that.”
When she couldn’t tell him anything more, he frowned at her, shrugged and left.
Later, Anna told her the detective had called to say they didn’t have her prints on file, so he hadn’t learned anything from them so didn’t need to talk to her again. He apparently hadn’t felt her important enough for a second visit or to do any follow-up investigating.
Lucy felt another wave of disappointment at the news. Where did she belong? All her memories were in total odds with what she saw on TV and here at the hospital.
Later, another nurse, Carrie, came on duty and someone brought her a supper tray. Carrie took her for another walk up and down the hallway.
“You’re doing much better,” Carrie said.
“I feel better, too,” Lucy agreed. “How much longer will I have to be here?”
“I think they’ll probably release you in the morning,” Carrie assured her.
But that didn’t reassure Lucy. Instead, panic raced through her. Release her where? Where could she go? It was cold outside. Winter in Minnesota wasn’t a great place to be if you didn’t have a home. Maybe she could rent a room somewhere until she could find a job. Her money wouldn’t last long if she had to stay in a hotel. She vaguely knew she’d been a teacher, but without a memory or references, she couldn’t do that.
She’d waitressed in college. There were always waitress jobs open and lots of them weren’t too fussy about references as long as you could do the work. Yes, she’d try that.
But first, she had to check on her parents. That detective had to have been lying. Why he’d do that was a mystery, but she just couldn’t believe him without proof.
***
Sunday, March 15, 2015
The next morning, Lucy’s mind was in a whirl. All her vitals were fine, so the doctor said she was free to go, but urged her to follow up with her primary doctor.
She murmured agreement, wanting only to be free to check things out for herself. She refused to admit how confused she felt, so smiled and agreed with everything they said to her. Luckily, Lucille Denton’s insurance card hadn’t been as out of date as her driver’s license, because the medical insurance company had accepted the hospital and doctors’ charges.
Lucy didn’t dare ask the hospital if the insurance company had her current address or anything for fear they’d learn she was a fraud. She hoped she didn’t meet up with this Lucille anytime soon, because she had no idea how she was going to pay her back.
As Anna helped her dress to leave the hospital, Lucy remembered the cute little phone the detective had had and asked Anna, “Where can I get one of those little phones that works without wires like that detective had yesterday? Or is that only something for the police to use?”
Anna laughed and pulled one from her uniform pocket. “Goodness, no, girl. Everyone carries a cell phone nowadays. They’re cheap and available everywhere. They’re even sold in the gift shop downstairs, if I remember correctly. I’ll show you where as I walk you out.”
“Thanks. I’ll buy one there, then.”
Near the hospital entrance, Anna pointed out the gift shop and front door. Lucy hugged Anna goodbye and got the teen working in the gift shop to teach her to use the simple flip cell phone she bought. She told Lucy just to buy more minutes when she’d used those up.
“Can I call long distance on this phone, too?”
“Sure, it’s free to call anywhere in the United States.”
Amazing. Long distance charges used to be a big part of her phone bills. “That’s wonderful.” Lucy also bought a newspaper and asked the teen to call her a cab.
“Here, I’ll put the cab company’s number in your phone, in case you want to call them again,” the teen said.
“Thanks so much. You’re a sweetheart to do that for me,” Lucy said, smiling.
The girl shrugged. “No problem. My mom’s a phone dummy, too.”
Lucy winced, not sure she liked being called a dummy, or being compared to the teen’s mother. But she just smiled and left the gift shop to wait by the front door for the cab. Cars racing by were all smaller than she remembered. She didn’t see a single large car with wing-like rear fins, as she remembered a popular car. Nor did she see any little Volkswagen beetles, as they’d called them. Most cars whizzing by were small and boxy looking.
She was used to a small town of only a thousand people, but she’d been here to the Twin Cities a few times, so didn’t feel entirely lost. She wasn’t sure what was going on in her life, but knew that first of all, she had to check on her parents. They just couldn’t be dead like that detective had said. Believing that was way too painful. She’d go there, first.
But to do that, she needed some changes of clothes and a small suitcase. So she asked to be taken to a Sears store. She hoped that was something still in business. To her relief, the cabbie just nodded and took off. She decided to use the time to call her parents. She typed in the numbers, but only got a recording saying that wasn’t a valid number. Her stomach churned with worry. That was just what the detective had said. What was the truth? How could she find out?
She sat back and tried to concentrate on her su
rroundings. She wasn’t familiar with St. Paul, so wasn’t sure what buildings were new or different. But the newspaper assured her it was indeed 2015 and not 1955. So how did the last sixty years disappear from her memory? And how was this possible when she didn’t look or feel older than mid-twenties? And the driver’s license with a picture in it that looked a lot like her, said she was only twenty-five. Had the whole world gone nuts? Or had she?
“Here we are, lady. That’ll be twelve-fifty.”
She pulled bills out of her purse and paid the man, adding a couple extra ones for a tip. He looked disappointed, but shrugged and took off again.
Lucy looked at the store as she crossed the parking lot. It didn’t look too different from ones she’d shopped in before, but now it opened up to a big open mall area with lots of other stores. Crowds of people roamed the stores and hallways. Noting that most of the young women her age wore jeans and blouses or sweaters, she bought some of each, along with casual shoes, socks and underwear. She’d worry about high heels and business suits when or if she figured out if she still had a teaching job.
And she bought a new coat to replace the dirty one she’d been wearing that had a large tear along one side from the accident.
Several clerks looked curiously at her bruised face and arm, but politely didn’t ask questions, for which Lucy was grateful.
She found a small overnight case to put all her purchases in, except the coat. “I’ll wear this,” she told the clerk. Then she handed her the damaged one. “Could you put this in your garbage bin? Thanks.”
“What happened?” the clerk asked, eyeing both the coat and Lucy’s bruises.
“Car accident. I’m all right. It’s not as bad as it looks,” she assured the lady with a smile. “Maybe you could tell me where I could buy make-up to cover the bruises?”
“Sure,” the clerk said, pointing down the aisle. “The make-up counter is right over there, just past the shoe department.”
“Thanks.” Lucy handed her several of the traveler’s checks to pay for the clothes and the clerk showed her where to sign them. Remembering they were in Lucille Denton’s name, Lucy carefully signed Lucille’s name, hoping she wasn’t adding forgery to her many problems.
The clerk glanced at the signature, put the checks in her drawer and handed Lucy bills and coins in change. “Have a nice day,” she told Lucy with a smile and turned to her next waiting customer.
Lucy swallowed her panic and stuffed her purchases into the wheeled suitcase. Then, pulling the suitcase by the handle, she headed to the make-up counter where a young girl took delight in teaching her to use a half-dozen products, which Lucy purchased. She looked in the mirror and noticed the bruises on her face were now a darker purple with edges of blue, yellow and red. The make-up had covered them some, but they still looked hideous.
Then she went back to the door where she’d entered. On the way, she spotted a bathroom sign and stopped there to freshen up. As she washed her hands she eyed herself in the mirror, and thought her cheek looked a little less swollen. Was it only the makeup? Or maybe she was improving a bit. What were her parents going to say to how she looked? They were going to be very upset. Tossing the paper towel in the wastebasket, she grabbed her purse and suitcase and headed back out.
A pop machine stood in the entryway and she dug out coins to buy soda to ease her dry throat. A can of pop was a dollar instead of a quarter. Yikes. Inflation must have run rampant in those missing years. Maybe her traveler’s checks wouldn’t go as far as she’d hoped.
She sat on the bench in the hallway near the door and tried to phone the cab. After three tries, she succeeded, but then the cabbie wanted to know which Sears store, so she had to ask another lady which Sears store she was in. Apparently, there were several. She rode the cab to the bus station and bought a ticket to Mankato. She had to see for herself if the detective was lying. Her stomach rolled in fear that something bad had happened to her parents.
Luckily, she didn’t have long to wait for the next bus. She got on and settled into her seat, exhausted, yet anxious. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she’d thought or was weak from her injuries. What would she find at her parents’ house?
Chapter 3
Edina, MN
Conner Thomas carried a tray of rolls and coffee out to his wife, June. She sat with head bowed in a lawn chair beside their pool. The early morning sun was warm, though it was still only March.
He set the tray on the little table between them and took the matching chair. “Here’s your coffee, darling.”
“Thanks.” She looked up and managed a weak smile, though he immediately saw the tears in her eyes.
“Try to put it aside and eat something, please?”
“Yes, I will, Conner.” She picked up her coffee and sipped it, once more looking at the empty pool. “The pool is depressing when it’s empty, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is. It’ll warm up in a few more weeks and then we can use it again,” he said, although they both knew it would be longer than that before it was warm enough.
“Having an outdoor pool in Minnesota is kind of silly, isn’t it?” she said.
“I suppose it is. Maybe we should splurge and enclose this area, now…” he bit his tongue before finishing that thought.
She glanced at him and bit back a sob. “Why not? We might as well splurge on ourselves, now. Nobody left to leave our money to. And no grandchildren in our future, either.”
He reached over and laid a hand on her thigh. “I didn’t mean it like that, darling.”
Her lips trembled and she took another sip of coffee. “I know. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? With Dee gone, there’s no future for us.”
“I love you so much, June. I wish I could change the past.”
“Nobody can do that. It is what it is.” She sipped more coffee, staring into the empty pool without seeming to see it. “Do you think we’ll ever know who killed her and why?”
Pain rushed through him, opening old wounds. “It’s been almost a year now. The police wrote it off as a suicide, so I doubt anyone is still investigating her death.”
“She was so sweet, so trusting. And so full of plans for the future. I know she would never have taken her own life. It just makes no sense. Why would she want to die? She had so many reasons to live.”
“I know.” Everything June said rang true to his gut. Dee was the last person he would believe would commit suicide.
“They didn’t believe anything we told them, did they?”
“Probably not.” Except that one detective, Jack something. He’d seemed to believe us, but that hadn’t stopped the case from being closed. Maybe I should try talking to him again? But not tell June. Can’t give her false hope. I’ll only tell her if he reopens the case.
“I still think that boyfriend of hers knew more than he’d admit,” June was saying.
“That’s my gut feeling, too, but Roscoe’s a senator’s son. You have to have solid proof to even suggest it.”
“I never did like him. Or his smooth talking father. Something about him rubs me the wrong way. People aren’t always what they seem to be, you know.”
“I agree, darling. But we may never know the truth.”
“‘Truth will out,’ the Bible says.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Chapter 4
Sunday, March 15, 2015, Minneapolis.
The bus was almost full. Dave Fuller made his way down the aisle and found an empty seat near the back. A young woman with long dark hair slept in the next seat. He slipped into the available spot and closed his eyes, thankful he didn’t have to make conversation. He’d just spent two days at a dental sales meeting and felt as though his ears were still ringing from all the enthusiastic pitches. Not that he hadn’t learned a thing or two about some useful new products. He had. But he desperately needed peace and quiet. He knew his appointment calendar for the next week was very full. He hadn’t taken a bus in years, but his car was in the repair shop, and h
e’d decided to use the bus for this trip. Now he kicked himself for not renting a car instead.
He tried to sleep but the strident cries of an infant behind them prevented him from doing that.
After some particularly loud yowls, the woman beside him jerked awake and sat up. She frantically looked around, but when he sent her a reassuring smile, she relaxed, smiled back and exclaimed, “My, that little one does have good lungs.”
And then he noticed the horrible bruises on her face. “Oh, wow,” Dave exclaimed before he could stop himself. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Her smile turned rueful. “A slight car accident. I’m fine, really. It looks worse than it is.”
“I’m glad. I’m Dave Fuller, a dentist on my way home to Mankato after a convention.” He held out his hand.
“Lucy Johnson.” She reluctantly shook his hand, then quickly retrieved hers and settled back into her seat.
The baby quieted, and Dave asked, “Do you live in Mankato?”
A strange look passed over Lucy’s face and she hesitated, then looked on the verge of tears. “I did–in North Mankato. I’m going home to check on my parents.”
“Check on them? Are they ill?”
“They were fine when I saw them a few weeks ago. Yesterday, a policeman told me they’re dead. I can’t believe that’s true. I have to go see for myself.” Her lips trembled and she turned away, looking out the bus window.
He stared at her. Someone had told her that her parents were dead but she doesn’t know whether to believe them? “A policeman told you that?”
“Yes. When I was in the hospital in Minneapolis.”
“Were they in an accident or something?”
“Yes…No. I don’t know. My memory is a little mixed up, from my own accident.” She chewed her bottom lip, making it even fuller and redder than it had been. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss those luscious lips. Then she asked, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Ask away.”