by Edna Curry
The chubby lady turned and noticing Dave was talking to Lucy, smiled and moved out into the aisle, so Lucy could get by, then immediately stepped back and continued her conversation with the other lady.
Lucy joined Dave as they walked out. “I hadn’t intended to come. I just went for a walk this morning and found the church.”
“I’m glad you came. How about having lunch with me?”
“Won’t the restaurants all be jammed with the church crowds?”
“I suppose, but we’ve got time.”
“It’s such a nice day, how about a picnic? We could get take-out and go somewhere outdoors.”
Dave grinned. “Sounds like fun. Do you like Chinese?”
“Love it. Especially chicken and peapods.”
“Good. I know a great place that has a take-out window. My car’s down this way.”
They got in and he started the car, then in a few minutes they’d gone through the drive-through and had their food. “Where would you like to go?”
Lucy considered. “I’d love to go to Spring Lake Park, if you don’t mind driving over to North Mankato?”
“That’s a great idea. I love that park, and I don’t think it’ll be too crowded this early in the year. The pool’s probably not open yet, though.”
“That’s okay. I can’t swim anyway.”
“Really? I thought everyone learned how to swim. Didn’t you take swimming lessons in school?”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. They were optional summer classes in my school. I hate the water, so I didn’t go.”
“Why do you hate the water?”
“I fell into the lake when I was little and almost drowned.”
As they drove, he asked, “Have you been there before?”
“Many times,” she said dreamily. “I always liked to feed the ducks when I was little. We’d bring a whole loaf of bread and Mom and I would break it up in little chunks and throw it out to them. They were so tame, they’d come right up to us and quack for more.”
Dave swallowed hard and said nothing. Oh, no. There she goes again. She’s talking about living here sixty years ago or more. Is she truly mentally ill like my cousin, Cora? What will Georgia have to say about all this? Should he have explained more about her problem? But Georgia had said she wanted to hear it straight from Lucy.
***
Lucy noticed his silence. When she glanced at him, he looked away with an uncomfortable look on his face.
Her stomach tightened into a twisted knot. She’d goofed again. She’d talked aloud about a Lucinda Johnson memory that she shouldn’t even know about in 2015. She had to be more careful. But she felt so comfortable around Dave that she forgot herself.
They found a picnic table and enjoyed their food, but Lucy said no more about her past.
If talking about it made Dave uncomfortable, how was he going to react when she talked about all this to Georgia? She began to dread the coming meeting with his sister.
After they finished eating, he picked up the trash and tossed it into a nearby barrel. “Want to go for a stroll along the lake before we go to Georgia’s office?” he asked offering her his hand.
She smiled and clasped his hand. “I’d love to. It’s such a peaceful, warm spring day, isn’t it? I hope this weather lasts a while.”
“Me, too.”
***
An hour later, Dave drove them back to Mankato and pulled up in front of a well-kept, older Victorian house on a quiet, tree-lined street.
Lucy looked at him. “This is where Georgia has her office?”
“Yes. Well, it’s also her home, but she converted the former parlor and music rooms to her office and has closed off the rest of the house for her private use. She lives alone, so it works fine.”
“I see.” Lucy got out and he took her arm and walked up the sidewalk. Red and yellow tulips were blooming in the flower beds on each side of the steps leading up to the doorway.
Dave rang the doorbell and in a minute, a tall, thin lady who looked a lot like him answered the door.
She smiled and said, “Dave, come in. And I assume this is Lucy?”
“Yes,” Dave said as they entered the large, comfortably furnished room. “Lucille Denton, this is my sister, Georgia Fuller.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lucy said, shaking the offered hand. “I just realized, you both have different last names from your mother?”
“Yes,” Dave said. “Dad died about ten years ago and Mom became Vi Hanks when she married Ken Hanks.”
“I see.”
“Would you like tea or coffee?”
“Hot tea would be great, if it’s no trouble,” Lucy said.
“Cream, lemon or sugar?”
“Lemon would be nice.”
“I do. Dave?”
“A can of pop will be fine. Whatever you have handy.”
“It’ll just take a minute. The water’s already hot. Have a seat and make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” Georgia said, and disappeared.
“She looks a lot like you,” Lucy said. “Same build, curly red hair and friendly smile. Only she has hazel eyes while yours are blue.”
“And she’s prettier, of course,” Dave quipped.
“Here’s your pop, Dave and the tea and lemon, Lucy.” Georgia set the tray on the coffee table in front of Lucy and handed Dave his can of soda.
“Thanks.” Lucy squeezed the lemon into the tea and picked up the cup, sipping the tea gratefully.
“Are you nervous about this meeting?” Georgia asked, sitting opposite her.
“Yes, I am. I hope you won’t think I’m crazy. I do wonder myself, if I am, though.”
“We all occasionally have crazy thoughts. Do you want to talk about it and see if I can help?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” Lucy sat up straighter and raised her chin.
Georgia glanced at Dave. “Do you want to wait in the other room, please?”
“Of course,” Dave said, rising.
“Oh, no,” Lucy exclaimed. “Please, can’t he stay? He’s already heard most of this anyway.”
“Well, if you’re sure you want him here. But sit over there off to the side, Dave. And keep quiet, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dave moved to the chair she’d indicated and pretended to zip his mouth.
Georgia frowned at him, but looked like she was suppressing a grin.
“Now, Lucy, tell me the problem that’s worrying you.”
Lucy finished her tea and set her cup on the tray. “I—I don’t quite know where to start.”
“Why don’t you just start when you first noticed something was wrong? Just explain in your own way, no hurry.”
***
Dave listened as Lucy haltingly told Georgia about waking up in the hospital and discovering her memories didn’t match what the people there or the TV set were telling her. She told her about the doctor and nurses’ questions and then about the nasty detective. She explained about her panic when she didn’t know where she lived or belonged. She had only her purse and this Lucille Denton’s travelers’ checks.
Dave was surprised to hear some of this and pulled out a notebook and began taking notes. Lucy hadn’t told him she was using travelers’ checks she didn’t think were her own. But now, it all spilled out. Georgia had a way with people. They opened up to her and told her things they never told others. He had to bite his lips to keep from exclaiming in dismay.
Was she guilty of theft? She talked as though she thought she was and was worried about what would happen when this Lucille Denton, whose name she was using, caught up with her.
His mind was spinning as he listened.
Georgia asked her to tell her about her memories of what had happened before she’d been hit by the car. About where she’d lived and the last time she remembered visiting her parents, Ben and Mary Johnson, in North Mankato.
Lucy explained about her job teaching third grade in the little southwestern Minnesota town of Conley. She’d rented a room at Mrs. Carl Henders
’ house.
“Please, I need to use a bathroom,” Lucy said.
“Of course, dear. Right through that door.” She pointed out the way and Lucy hurried through it.
Georgia looked at Dave. “I see you’ve been taking notes. Remember this is private.”
“Of course,” Dave said. “I know the rules.”
“Some of this is new to you?”
“Yes. She told me part of it and I guessed more, but…”
“Why don’t you grab my laptop and look up these people she’s mentioned? Maybe we can see if they really lived or not. I’m going to get more tea for both of us.” She took the tea tray and started to her kitchen.
“Sure.” He got her laptop from her office, moved to a table in the corner and began looking up the people Lucy had mentioned.
Then Lucy returned and sat again, apologizing for taking a break.
Georgia returned with a fresh pot of tea and poured them each a cup. “No problem. Just let me know whenever you need a break. We have plenty of time.”
Lucy continued, telling her about not believing the policeman who said her parents were dead, and taking a bus to Mankato to check on her parents. She explained she’d met Dave on the bus and he nodded when Georgia glanced at him.
Then she told her about learning other people lived in her parents’ house now and that she’d begun to believe it was really 2015, not 1955. How she’d gone to a motel and grieved for days. Then decided she had to buck up and deal with her situation. She had to find a job to support herself. How she’d gone to a library and found her parents’ and her own obituaries in the Mankato Free Press back in 1958 and 1960 and read the articles about their car accident and about her own and her cousin’s death in a plane crash. So they were really dead. How could this be? Tears ran down Lucy’s face as she recounted that discovery.
Lucy said she knew, if it was now sixty years later, her teaching credentials were no longer valid. Lucinda Johnson was dead. She had to find a way to support herself. She’d waitressed in college, so she’d decided a waitress job was the answer and found the job at the Hometown Restaurant. Vi Hanks had hired her.
“How did you manage that without an ID?” Georgia asked.
Lucy blushed and admitted, “I used the ID in the purse they found with me at the car accident in St. Paul. I told you, they took the medical insurance card in there to pay for the hospital, too. I figured whoever this Lucille is, her ID and social security numbers are okay. I realize she’ll get credit for my paying in SS taxes, but what else could I do?”
“Oh. May I see those?”
“Sure.” Lucy dug them out of her purse and handed them to Georgia.
Georgia frowned and looked at Lucy. “This driver’s license is only six years out of date and the picture certainly looks like you.”
Lucy shrugged. “I know. And the description and age listed there seem to fit, too. Somehow, by a crazy coincidence, the police must have found this woman’s purse close to me and assumed it was mine.”
Georgia said softly, “What if it is yours?”
“What?”
“What if you really are Lucille Denton? And the purse and its contents really are yours?”
Lucy shook her head vigorously. “No. That’s not possible. I couldn’t be this woman and not remember it.”
Georgia was quiet for a moment. “May I make copies of these documents to check out some of these things?”
Lucy chewed her lip. “I thought about asking that St. Paul detective to check it out for me, but he was so nasty, I didn’t trust him. You won’t get me in trouble with anyone for using that ID, will you? I mean, I had to use Lucille’s social security number to get a job and her traveler’s checks so I had money to live until I could earn my own money. I’ve been saving to pay her back if I ever find her.”
Georgia shook her head. “No, I promise I won’t get you into trouble. I know an officer, Len, who I can trust. He and I occasionally work together on things. Really, Lucy, I trust him.”
“Okay.” She watched Georgia go into her office to a copy machine and make copies of her documents. When she returned, Lucy went on to explain about Vi recommending a nearby room she could afford and Martha accepting her. And she told about Dave calling and them becoming friends.
“So I guess that brings us up to date,” she said. “Am I crazy or what?”
Georgia smiled. “No, of course you’re not crazy.”
“Then why don’t my memories match other people’s? Nobody else I know thinks it’s 1955.”
“I’m not sure, Lucy. This is certainly a different problem from the ones I usually hear from my patients. Can you give me a few days to think about this and check things out?”
Lucy shrugged. “Sure. What choice do I have?”
“Could I take a picture of you and Dave together?” Georgia asked.
Dave eagerly came forward, pulling Lucy to her feet and posing with her. “I’d love one, Georgia. Email me a copy, will you?”
After taking pictures, Georgia asked, “How about Wednesday afternoon, say about five, for another chat? Will that work for you two?”
Lucy nodded. “I’m scheduled for the morning shift all week, so that’s fine.”
Dave agreed. “I can rearrange my schedule to be free. I’ll send you an email, Sis. See you on Wednesday, then.”
As they walked to his car, Dave said, “Do you feel up to stopping for some supper? I know that was tiring for you, but I’m starved and I’ll bet you are, too.”
“Okay. But nowhere fancy, okay?”
“I know just the place. Do you like Italian? This place makes the best spaghetti you’ll ever eat. And it’s not fancy.”
“Sounds great.”
He drove a few blocks, then parked behind a two story, white building. “Come on. You’ll enjoy it.”
“Okay, but I’ll need to stop in the restroom to freshen up a bit.”
“Me, too. The ladies’ room is the next one on your left. I’ll meet you right here in the hallway.”
A few minutes later, a waiter greeted Dave like his best friend, took them to a table and handed them menus. “May I bring you wine?”
“Absolutely, my usual,” Dave said. “We’ve had a rough day.”
“Coming right up.” He hurried off.
Lucy frowned. “I don’t remember if I drink wine or not.”
“Then it’ll be a first. After that tiring session with my sister, I think you need a glass to help you relax so you can sleep tonight.”
Lucy made a face, muttering, “Sleep brings on nightmares.”
“What did you say?”
She blushed. “Nothing. Just a problem I’ve had lately.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Really, Dave, it’s silly.”
“Not if it’s keeping you up at night. You work hard at Mom’s restaurant. You need your rest. Come on, tell me about it. Maybe I can help.”
“I doubt it,” she said, chewing her lip. “You can’t fix what’s going on in my head.”
“Probably not, but sometimes talking about it helps.”
“Maybe.” She was silent for a bit, then said, “It’s just nightmares. I wake up screaming and then I’m afraid to go back to sleep for fear they’ll come back.”
The waiter returned, got Dave’s approval and poured their wine. “What’ll you have?”
“Is spaghetti okay?” Dave asked Lucy.
She agreed and the waiter nodded, picked up their menus and hurried off.
Dave continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “And if you go back to sleep, do the nightmares always return?”
She shrugged and sipped her wine. “Not always.”
“What are they about?”
“That’s silly, too.”
“Why is it silly?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s nothing like my real life. In the nightmares, I’m being beaten and bullied by a tall, blond man.”
“Do you recognize this man?” Dave eyed he
r as he drank his wine.
“No. And I don’t remember ever being mistreated by any man. My father was a gentle person and so were most of the other men in my life.”
“Do you have any theories as to who it is?”
She chewed her lip again, then said ruefully, “I wonder if my nightmares could be caused by the power of suggestion? Both Vi and Martha asked me if someone abusing me had caused the bruises from that car accident. I wonder if their suggestion might have subconsciously brought on the nightmares.”
Dave shrugged. “I don’t know, Lucy. But I think it’s something we should ask Georgia about on Wednesday. She may have an answer.”
“Okay.”
The waiter arrived with plates of steaming spaghetti covered with spicy sauce and, with their approval, grated Parmesan cheese over it. “Enjoy,” he said with a big smile and left.
The delicious scents made her stomach rumble. They laughed at the sound and dug in.
Later as he drove her home, Lucy fell asleep in the car. He woke her and walked her up to her apartment.
At her door, he kissed her goodnight, saying, “I hope you sleep well tonight. You look half asleep already.”
She snuggled closer into his arms. “Thanks, Dave. I guess I am tired.”
“It was a long day. I’ll pick you up about four-thirty on Wednesday, then?”
She nodded.
“Lock your door, okay?”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
***
When Dave got home, he emailed Georgia. “Did you find the notes I left you?”
She must have been at her computer, because she phoned him back within minutes. “Yes, Dave, I found them. Thanks. And I’ve been online, too. Just as Lucy said, I found the obits of the Johnsons she said were her parents. And they lived in North Mankato at the address she gave us.”
“Yes. Lucy didn’t tell you, but she took me to Calvary Cemetery and showed me her and her parents’ graves with the dates of their deaths. So what do you think is going on here?”
“I think it’s entirely possible that she is Lucille Denton and the accident took away her memory.”
“But Georgia, that doesn’t explain why she has the memories of this Lucinda Johnson, who lived sixty years ago.”
“Haven’t you heard of reincarnation, Dave?”
“Well, yeah. But really? I thought that was only something that happened in India or somewhere like that.”