Lost Memories

by Curry, Edna

  Kenny ran a hand through his blond hair, frowning. That scenario did sound very plausible. “But you don’t think that could be the case?”

  She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be like Cara at all. She’s pretty independent. You know how people are about school teachers being good role models for their students. The scandal could even cost her job.”

  Kenny frowned. “I thought they outlawed that clause in public contracts years ago.”

  “Maybe they did, legally. And it probably works most of the time. But our suburb is like a small town where gossip is concerned. I’m sure, after any kind of scandal, she’d soon find the atmosphere too unfriendly to stay.”

  “I see.” Maybe Cara had already found the atmosphere unfriendly enough to make her want to disappear if she’d been involved in a drug ring? Not likely, but…

  Sharon eyed him. “Besides, Cara is a girl who believes in love and marriage. She wouldn’t settle for less. I don’t believe for a minute that she’s off enjoying an affair.”

  Kenny nodded. “You know your sister, so that’s a good enough reason for me. Can you give me any other details?”

  Sharon explained to Kenny about how she’d checked her sister’s accounts online. “I couldn’t find any evidence that she took out enough cash for airline tickets and weeks of traveling without using either her bank account or her credit cards.”

  Kenny bit into his cinnamon roll. “Maybe she bought travelers’ checks a couple of weeks ahead of time?”

  Sharon shook her head. “I checked her statements back a couple of months. There was no withdrawal that she could have used for that,” she said. “Cara made notes about everything in her financial program. Each check she’d made out had a memo of what it was for.”

  “She could have been saving up cash and bought airline tickets with that,” he suggested.

  “I suppose she could have. But that’s not how Cara usually did things.” She eyed Kenny. “I called the airlines and asked if she was listed as a passenger the week after her last emailed message.”

  “Oh? And was she?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me. Privacy rules, they said. But they’ll tell you, won’t they?” Sharon asked.

  Kenny grinned. “Yep. One of the privileges of the badge, you know. It opens doors very nicely.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I knew I had to ask you, even if Mama will have a fit if she finds out.”

  “So, don’t tell her,” Kenny said with a grin. He put his hand over hers. “Though it would really help if I could get a look at Cara’s computer.”

  “Sure thing. Stop by my apartment tonight and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Thanks.” If there was anything incriminating about her or someone she knew on it, his tech guys could probably find it. They could find all kinds of stuff people thought they’d erased. If they did find something, Cara would not be happy that her sister had turned over her computer to a cop. So be it.

  “But you won’t erase anything she has on it, will you?”

  “No. And don’t worry, Sharon. Most of the time, there’s a simple explanation for someone’s absence, and the person turns up safe and sound, just embarrassed that they worried everyone.”

  “I pray you’re right, Kenny.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” He tossed some money on the table and stood.

  “Thanks,” she said. She watched him stride out. He was sure a good looking man in that uniform. Maybe she had been too hasty in letting him go.

  ~ * ~

  Back in Landers, the time for the annual town celebration, Wannigan Days, had arrived.

  The Saturday morning of the ‘Kiddie Parade’ thankfully dawned clear and sunny. By noon the local deputy had strung tape to close a section of a side street to traffic.

  Jane, Marion and several other ladies were busily helping the mothers of the little ones finish decorating their vehicles for the parade. Ribbons, fabric, flags, balloons and noisemakers abounded. Only preschoolers were allowed in this special ‘Kiddie Parade.’ A long line of brightly colored wagons, strollers and pedal toys made up the line. Some children were sitting on tricycles, some in wagons, and some were asleep in strollers or buggies. The day promised to be hectic as well as hot.

  “Whew, this is exhausting work,” Marion complained as she tried to quiet yet another impatient little one and reassure its mother that the parade would start very soon.

  “Are the judges here yet?” Jane asked worriedly. “The little ones are getting tired fast in this heat.”

  “I think so. I just saw the mayor and his wife. Who else did you talk into judging?”

  “Mel agreed to do it, and the jeweler. I had a hard time finding people who didn’t have a relative entered. Everyone pleaded that they would be biased.”

  “Ha. They’re just chicken. Mothers aren’t usually too happy when another child is chosen over theirs.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  At last the judges waved that they were ready and the little procession moved down the street past their waving friends and on a couple of blocks to where some volunteers waited with their reward of ice cream cones. Then the mayor passed out the prizes, pinning ribbons on the winners, and everyone cheered.

  Mel came up to Jane and Marion where they were watching everyone leave. Mother after mother thanked Jane and Marion and the other ladies for their help and told them what a nice parade it had been. Mel handed Jane and Marion each a cone and asked, “Ready to leave?”

  “We need to take down the ribbon blocking the street,” Jane objected.

  Marion shook her head and took Jane’s arm. “The police officers are doing that. Come on. You must be exhausted in his heat. You did a great job.”

  They walked back toward downtown, quickly licking their cones as they began melting.

  “I enjoyed helping with the parade,” Jane said, realizing she really had enjoyed helping. She was fast becoming a part of this friendly community. The women had welcomed her into their group of workers without questions. No one seemed to mind that they didn’t know where she came from. They liked and accepted her for what she was today.

  As they headed back to work, Jane wondered how long this wonderful feeling of belonging could last. Would she still feel this way if she regained her memory? Would they all still want her here when they learned who she really was? I hope so. And I sure hope nothing I find out about my past makes them think less of me.

  As they passed the mall, Jane glanced in the gift shop’s window and paused. “Mel, I’d like to stop here for a minute.”

  “I’ll see you back at the shop, then.”

  Jane went inside, grinning at Loni who was waiting on another customer. Browsing in the china aisle, Jane found the pretty cup and saucer she’d seen the week before. Carefully, she carried it to the counter.

  “I just have to have this,” she told Loni Bennes when Loni came to wait on her. “I love the painted pink roses on it.” Jane handed her enough money to cover the cost. It felt so good to have some money of her own again, and to know Mel appreciated her work, too.

  “It is a lovely set, isn’t it?”

  “It’s perfect. I’ve never seen one quite like it anywhere.”

  “Oh? Do you collect cups and saucers?”

  A glass fronted china cupboard filled with cups and saucers of every description flashed into Jane’s mind. Was it hers? She didn’t know. ”I—I think so. Or I know someone who does.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Jane. I forgot you can’t remember things,” Loni said, flushing bright red. She carefully wrapped the cup and saucer in tissue and put it into a box.

  “No problem. Thanks.” Jane took the package and walked back to Mel’s place.

  Would this uncertainty ever end? If only the memories would be more than little flashes of information. Then she might be able to grab onto them and find herself.

  ~ * ~

  Thursday evening Mel and Jane ate dinner out, as had become their habit. Then they rented a movie
and drove out to his cabin to watch it with his VCR. Mel made popcorn and they settled down to enjoy it.

  Halfway through the movie, Mel asked, “Want some more popcorn?”

  When Jane didn’t answer, Mel looked over to see her eyes closed and her head lolling back against the couch. She was sound asleep.

  He grinned and decided he might as well finish watching the end of the movie before waking her up. Clearly she hadn’t liked it as well as he had.

  In the middle of the car chase scene, she sat up straight and began screaming, her eyes wide.

  He jumped. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s only a movie. They’ll be all right.” When she continued to scream, he realized she was still asleep. He muted the sound on the TV and gently shook her. “Jane, wake up.”

  At last her eyes focused on him and she shuddered. “Wh…where am I?”

  He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “We’re out at my cabin by the river, remember?”

  “Oh—of course.” She smoothed back her hair.

  Mel watched her, noticing her hand was shaking. “Did you have another nightmare?”

  She hesitated, looking away, and then nodded.

  He put his arm around her and cuddled her close. “Was it about being in the river again?”

  “Not this time.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She looked away, hesitating, then met his gaze. “It was just a silly dream. Like that ‘tornado’ movie, you know? Everything was flying around and trees were uprooted and house roofs flying off.”

  Mel lifted an eyebrow. “Do you remember watching that? Do you think it was from that movie?”

  Jane chewed her lip. “I don’t know if I ever saw that movie, but I remember that there was such a movie. Damn it, I remember the craziest things. Why can’t I remember my own name?” Tears filled her eyes and she began to cry silently, swallowing convulsively.

  Mel hugged her close. “Shh. Don’t cry. It’ll come back to you someday. Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

  “Ha. You mean if I relax and don’t care who I really am, I’ll remember?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  She gave a hollow laugh. “Mel, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

  “Whatever, you’re safe here with me, okay?”

  She nodded. After a moment she said, “The tornado in my dream seemed so real. I felt the wind pull at me, and felt a branch cut my arm. Right here,” she said, lifting her right arm and touching a spot on the outside of her elbow. Then she pulled her arm up to stare at it and turned white.

  “Mel, look! There’s a scar there!”

  “Where?” He leaned forward to look at her arm.

  “Right here.” She turned toward him and drew his hand down so he could feel the raised line of skin on her right elbow.

  “There’s a scar there all right. It’s just a white line now, so it must be from an old injury though. It’s at least several years old, Jane.”

  “But it’s in exactly the spot I remember getting hit by that branch. Doesn’t that mean something?”

  He looked at her, hating to dash the hope he saw on her face. “Maybe. Though it could be your sub-conscious mind connecting an old injury to the dream,” he said kindly.

  She shook her head vehemently, immediately rejecting that theory. “No, Mel. I’m sure the dream was of something that really happened. It felt so real. I ran into this old frame house and was fighting to close the heavy door against the wind. I leaned against it with all my strength, and it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get it closed. Then this other gal about my age and an older lady with glasses came running from the other room in the house and helped me get it shut. My friend said, ‘you’re bleeding.’ And she ran and grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around my arm.”

  “Dreams can seem very real,” Mel said doubtfully, watching the emotions play over her face as she talked. He was pretty sure she’d been asleep, so this had to be a dream, not a real memory. But the amount of detail she was telling him was fascinating all the same.

  “Then the older lady screamed, ‘It’s a tornado! Get to the basement!’” Jane swallowed and shuddered.

  Mel held her, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek, trying to soothe away the agitation in her body. “Then what happened?”

  “I hate spiders,” she said with a shudder.

  Mel couldn’t help laughing. “Spiders?”

  She nodded. “The power was off. The lady had a little flashlight and we had to go down some steep narrow steps. We went down to this damp basement in the dark with only a tiny beam of light to find our way. Old basements smell terrible, and they always have spiders living in them,” she informed him primly.

  He bit his cheek, trying not to laugh again. “I’m sure they do. Did you see any spiders?”

  “Well, no, I don’t think so. But we sat on some old folding chairs and I kept imagining them crawling on me in the dark. After a while, the horrible roaring noise stopped and we went back upstairs. All the windows were broken and there was glass everywhere in the house. The wind was blowing in through the broken out windows, making the draperies billow out. It was still raining, but we went outside to look around. Trees were down and debris was scattered all over the lawns and streets.”

  “It does sound very real,” Mel said doubtfully.

  “The streets were blocked by fallen trees. Cars parked along the streets had trees lying on top of them, so the tops were all smashed down. It was awful.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  “We walked a couple of blocks to where there was less damage and the street was open. Some man in a pickup truck offered us a ride. We all squeezed in the cab that smelled like a barnyard. The old lady sat in the middle and my friend sat on my lap. The man gave us a ride to a friend’s house in the next town. They still had power.”

  “Can you remember anything that will help us figure out what town you were in?”

  Jane thought for a while, and then shook her head. “I remember what the house looked like as I ran to it. And there were a lot of really tall trees along the sidewalk as I ran toward it. Then most of those trees were knocked down by the storm when I came out later.”

  Mel frowned. “I’m afraid that description would fit a lot of streets in a lot of towns.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Can you remember anything besides houses? Like stores or street signs?”

  She shook her head and drew a deep breath which ended in a yawn.

  “Come on.” Mel snapped off the TV and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll take you home. Tomorrow’s Friday, so we do have to work in the morning.”

  She was silent most of the way back to town. He unlocked the door of his office and turned her into his arms for a goodnight kiss.

  She kissed him, but her mind seemed far away. She looked at him and said, “I think it really happened to me, Mel. It didn’t feel like a dream, you know?”

  “I suppose it could have. Why don’t you sleep on it and we’ll talk about it some more in the morning?”

  “All right.” She leaned forward, gave him another quick kiss, then turned and ran up the stairs to her apartment.

  Mel watched her go. What if it was a real memory? Could it help them figure out who she was? But how? Lots of towns got hit by tornadoes every year. It could have happened anywhere.

  ~ * ~

  Mel couldn’t help thinking about Jane and her too-real dream all the next day. As fate would have it, they were busier than usual, even having to set up accounts for two new customers.

  As had become their habit, they went to lunch separately, Jane meeting Marion and Mel grabbing a quick sandwich at the Flame.

  As he ate, his mind pondered Jane’s dream and her reaction to it. What if it wasn’t a dream? What if it was a memory? If it happened within, say, the past few years, there couldn’t be that many tornadoes that had hit the residential area of a town. Excited, he paid his check and hurried back to his of
fice. He went online and looked up tornadoes.

  When the phone rang, Jane, who’d also returned to the office, answered and told him it was for him. “Tell them I’ll call them back later,” he said, distracted.

  She turned back to relay that message and hung up. Then she came over to stand beside him. “What are you doing? You’re usually not too busy to take a client’s call.”

  He leaned back in his chair and admitted, “I’ve been thinking about your dream. Let’s assume it is a memory and not a dream.”

  She eyed him warily. “You believe me then?”

  “I don’t know. But let’s assume it’s a memory and see where it takes us. Let’s see if we can figure out where you lived at the time. Have you remembered any more details?”

  Jane shook her head and sank into the chair beside him.

  “Do you think you were in Minnesota? Or could you have been living somewhere else?”

  She chewed her lip, considering. “I think it was here, but how could I tell?”

  “For one thing, what kind of trees were they? Palm trees look really different than maples, evergreens and box elders.”

  She shook her head. “They weren’t palm trees or anything like that. They looked like the trees we have around here. Not evergreens. And the land was flat, not mountainous or even hilly.”

  He nodded. “So it was probably a northern city or small town.”

  “I think a small town,” Jane said.

  “Why?”

  “Because the man in the pickup who gave us a ride to the next town seemed like a farmer. His pickup smelled of manure.”

  “Good point. You don’t usually see farmers in pickups in cities. Now, how long ago do you think it might have been?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “How old did you feel in your dream? Were you a little girl or a grown woman? How about your friend?”

  “Hm. Well, I guess we were grown up. I think we had an apartment together upstairs in this lady’s house.”

  “Great. I don’t think you’re more than twenty five now, so it had to be within the past five to seven years. That narrows it down.” He sat up and went back to searching the internet.