Lost Memories

by Curry, Edna

  Jane watched over his shoulder, pleased he was taking her seriously. She’d lain awake half the night, wondering about that dream. The more she thought about it, the surer she became that it was more than a dream. The phone rang again and Mel said, “I’m not here. Take a message and tell them I’ll call them on Monday.”

  After a while, Mel looked up from his computer. “Are you game for going on a trip this weekend?”

  Jane eyed him cautiously. “To where?”

  “I’ve found several possible settings where your dream could have taken place. Want to go check them out?”

  She swallowed, suddenly very nervous at the thought of possibly spurring a memory as well as of spending a weekend alone with him. “All right.”

  “Go pack a bag, then. We’ll stop at the cabin to pick up my stuff and then take off.”

  “But it’s not closing time yet.”

  “It is if I put out the closed sign,” he said with a grin. “One of the advantages of owning a small business like mine is you can set your own hours.”

  ~ * ~

  As they sped down the highway an hour later, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  He pulled a paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “I made a list of several towns which have been hit by tornadoes around the right time that sounded like good possibilities.”

  She read the list, frowning.

  “Any of the names ring a bell with you?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve lived in Wisconsin, though.”

  They drove around one little town. Jane looked for the house in her dream, but nothing looked familiar.

  “Don’t worry,” Mel said. “We’ll go on to the next town on my list.”

  An hour later, they drove through another with the same lack of result.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it?” Jane asked with a deep sigh.

  “Don’t give up yet. We’ve only seen half the towns on my list. Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head. “I could use a bathroom, though. There’s a convenience store.”

  He stopped and they went inside. He bought sodas, handing her a cold one as they climbed back into his car. “We’ll wait until we get to the next town to eat. It’ll have some motels, too.”

  She nodded and leaned back against the car seat. Closing her eyes, she allowed the purr of the engine to soothe her jangled nerves. A sad country song played on the radio, echoing the melancholy she felt.

  The thought of staying in a motel with Mel made her warm all over. Will we make love again? I hope so, but I wish I knew whether there is going to be a future for us.

  Would she ever know her past so that she could look forward to her future? She imagined making love with Mel every night, caressing those brown muscular arms and running her fingers through his dark, wavy hair and bringing his lips down to meet hers. She loved his body, with its strong muscles and firm tone. And what he could do with those wonderful hands. Mmm.

  What am I thinking? I can’t get involved with anyone now until I know whether I’m already involved with someone from my past.

  Chapter 11

  They drove back into Minnesota and through mile after mile of green cropland. They passed field after field of corn several inches tall. Jane stared out the window, watching the straight green rows with black dirt between them flash past in a dizzying pattern, until she closed her eyes against the sight.

  “Tired?” Mel asked, glancing at her.

  “Yes, I guess I am.”

  “Only a few more miles now, until we get to St. Peter.” He pulled up at a stop sign and turned south onto a four lane highway.

  Soon they arrived in the small town. Mel glanced at her as they drove along the main street of town. “Anything look familiar here?”

  She frowned, trying to concentrate. “I’m not sure. I mean, the stores and buildings in most of these towns look alike, don’t they? I think they all used the same architect.”

  Mel laughed. “They probably did. I doubt they were too concerned about looks back around the turn of the twentieth century when a lot of these were built. Function was more important to our pioneers, I’m sure.”

  Mel circled around through some of the residential area, but nothing seemed right to Jane. “There aren’t enough really big trees,” she said. “I don’t think this is the town, either.”

  “Well, we’ll stay here tonight and try some others in the morning,” Mel said.

  “Let’s eat here,” Jane said, pointing to a new-looking restaurant. ”This one looks nice.”

  They went inside and sat in a booth next to a window which looked out on the street. The food smelled delicious and a very friendly waitress appeared almost immediately with a pot of coffee that she poured as soon as they nodded assent. Mel took advantage by asking the waitress if she’d lived there during the tornado a few years before.

  “No, I lived in Mankato then,” she said. “But I hear it was a doozy.”

  “Did it do a lot of damage around here?”

  The young girl nodded. “It destroyed this restaurant, that’s why we have a new building. There are some before and after pictures over there on the wall.”

  “Thanks, we’ll look at them.”

  “I’m sure the library has lots more pictures and articles from the newspaper, too. It’s open until nine, if you want to see them.”

  Mel smiled. “Good idea. Thanks.”

  They ordered chicken dinners and then got up to look at the pictures on the wall.

  Jane gasped when she saw the before picture of the town with all the tall trees lining the boulevard of main street. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “This looks just like the street in my dream!”

  “Good!” Mel said satisfaction in his voice. “Maybe our search is almost over!”

  Jane stared at the picture for long minutes and then they returned to their booth. The waitress brought their food.

  “What do you think it means?” Jane asked Mel. “Could I just be remembering being here sometime?”

  “I think it probably means it was a memory rather than a dream,” Mel said. “But your mind could be mixing up various memories and making up a new story or combination of scenes from them.”

  “You mean the dream could be like fiction, instead of a true memory?”

  “Maybe. Or some true and some fiction scenes all mixed together.”

  “Ha,” Jane said with a derisive laugh. “I doubt that. I never was any good at writing fiction in English class.”

  He glanced at her sharply. “How do you know you weren’t?”

  She sobered immediately. “I don’t know. That just popped out. Damn, but it’s frustrating not to know what is the truth and what isn’t. How can I trust my own brain when it remembers some things and doesn’t remember others? How do I know what’s a true memory and what isn’t?”

  Mel picked up his fork and began eating his chicken. “I don’t think there is any way to know, Jane. We’ll just have to play things by ear and see what you remember or don’t remember as we go along. Don’t worry about it.”

  After dinner, they drove around the town, up one street and down another. Finally, as they drove down a side street, Jane said, “Stop!”

  Mel pulled to the curb. “What is it?”

  She pointed to a tall, white clapboard house. “That’s it. That’s the house in my dream.”

  They got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk. “Are you sure?”

  Jane nodded. “The big tree that was out in the front boulevard is gone, but I remember that it was lying down after the storm, so that fits. They probably planted those two baby trees there later.”

  Mel rang the doorbell. A young woman answered, a small boy peeking at them from behind her jeans-clad leg. “Yes?”

  Jane stepped forward. “Hello. Do you remember me?”

  The woman stared at her. “No. Should I?”

  “I used to live in the apartment upstairs in this house,” Jane said, disappointment show
ing clearly in her voice.

  “Oh,” the woman said. “Well, that was probably before our time, then. It used to be divided into apartments, but we remodeled it into all one house now.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “We bought the house a couple of years ago, after Mrs. Haynes died. Her son said she rented out the top half to college students. Did you go to Gustavus?”

  “Gustavus?” Jane asked, puzzled.

  “Gustavus Adolphus, the college up there on the hill.” She nodded at some buildings to the west.

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” Jane gave her a smile. “Well, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sort of looking up old haunts, you know?”

  “Sure thing,” the woman said. “Good night.” She smiled and closed the door.

  They walked back to the car. “So much for that,” Jane said dejectedly.

  “What do you mean?” Mel asked. “I think we learned a lot.”

  Jane turned to stare at him. “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that if you lived upstairs there, you were probably a student at that college,” Mel said.

  Jane shrugged. “So what? There were probably thousands of students at that college.”

  “True,” Mel said, with a satisfied smirk. “But colleges keep records.”

  Jane laughed. “Have you forgotten you need a name to look up a record?”

  Mel leaned over, took her face between his hands and gave her a kiss. “Have you forgotten college yearbooks? They put everyone’s picture in them!”

  ”Oh. Well, I suppose. But we don’t even know for sure what year I was here. It would take hours to go through all the yearbooks of the possible years.”

  He grinned and started the car. “We know you were here the year the tornado hit. And we’ve got all weekend, haven’t we?”

  “We’d better get a motel room, first, though, don’t you think? It’ll be dark, soon.”

  “All right. We passed a motel back on the highway.”

  He drove back to it and went into the office. In a few minutes he was back. “I got a room, but it’s at another motel and the clerk says it’s probably the last one in fifty miles. There’s a big celebration in a nearby town, so all the rooms have been sold out for weeks. Okay?”

  Jane swallowed and her heartbeat sped up. She’d be sharing a room with Mel? But who was she to complain? It wasn’t the first time and he was footing the bill for this weekend, after all. Her paycheck wasn’t going to cover it. She looked away, her tongue refusing to answer immediately. Finally, she managed to blurt out, “Whatever.”

  That sounded like she didn’t care. But she did. She cared way too much. And she knew she shouldn’t. She had no right to care, might never have a right to care.

  He smiled, patted her hand and drove several blocks to the other motel.

  She frowned at the sight of the little one story motel.

  He shrugged and said, “It doesn’t look like much, does it? I guess I should have called ahead to make reservations before we left home. It’s usually not a problem in these little towns.”

  “I didn’t think of making reservations ahead of time, either,” she admitted. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  He went into the office to pay for the room. Then he moved the car to a parking spot in front of their room. He got their luggage from the trunk and she followed him inside.

  It was worse than she’d expected. The room was tiny and there was a dresser/desk combination with a television set and a phone on it. There was a mirror above it and a chair. And only one bed. It wasn’t even queen-sized, only a double.

  “Well, at least the room is clean and neat,” she said, trying to make the best of a bad situation. She peeked into the bath. A sink hung on the wall, a stool and a tiny shower stall with a plastic curtain. Pathetic.

  “Yes, it is clean,” Mel agreed, setting down their suitcases and eyeing the bed. “Though you can’t say much else in favor of the place, can you?”

  “Let’s go see the rest of the town before it gets dark,” she suggested.

  “Good idea.”

  They drove around, but nothing really seemed familiar to Jane. She tried to concentrate on looking at houses and buildings, but all she could think about was that tiny motel room she was going to share with Mel tonight. Would this be their last night together if she discovered her past here? She hoped not.

  At the college, she asked Mel to stop at the unusual Chapel. He parked and they walked across the neat lawn. The pleasant fragrance of freshly cut grass assailed their noses. Small green shrubs surrounded by white rock edged the building and sidewalks.

  Jane peeked in the long narrow windows. The chapel was closed and empty and no one seemed to be around, so she didn’t think anyone would mind if she looked inside.

  The building had a ridiculous amount of glass windows in it. “I wonder how that survived the tornado,” she said. “A strong wind certainly must have taken out all that glass, don’t you think?”

  “I would think so,” Mel agreed. “From the pictures we saw and the way the trees are newly planted here, it looks like the tornado came over this hill from the west, hitting the college first and then sweeping down into the main part of town.”

  “I hate to think of the damage the storm did. I’m glad they’ve repaired most of it already.”

  “Yes, those pictures were awful. It’s amazing how normal everything looks again.”

  “I love the way the setting sun lights up the building. Isn’t it beautiful? I’ll bet it’s really something when the organ is playing and the choir singing. I can almost hear them in my head.”

  “Yeah?” Mel looked at her. “Are you sure it’s your imagination or a memory?”

  She sighed and turned to stare at the buildings around her, then looked back at him. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded bleak, even to herself. Would she ever know the truth?

  “Come on,” he said taking her arm and leading her back to his car. “It’s getting late. Let’s go check out the library for a while before they close.”

  “All right.”

  At the library, Mel asked for copies of the local newspapers for the dates right after the tornado.

  “We have them on microfiche right over here,” the librarian said, showing them to a table. She gave them instructions, then left.

  Jane grabbed a chair and watched as Mel pulled up pictures and articles. There were lots of them, each one more effusive as reporter after reporter showed them the devastation of the small town and surrounding area. She saw houses without windows or roofs and boards and debris from homes and businesses covering the yards and streets. There were pictures of huge uprooted trees lying in the street, blocking traffic, then of crews of men and volunteers with chain saws and trucks, cleaning up the mess.

  Jane pointed to a picture of a street clogged with downed trees. “That picture looks like the street in my dream,” she said. A horrible thought hit her. “What if I just read about this and the dream is only from my memory of seeing these newspaper pictures?”

  “But that wouldn’t explain your memory of that actual house we found, would it? Or the lady who lived there? Or the wind and rain and hiding from the storm in the basement?”

  She sighed, relieved at his logic. “You’re right. It must be more than that.”

  Mel tried not to notice the way she leaned close to him to look over his shoulder at the screen in front of him. Her silky red hair brushed against his cheek. The soft, floral scent she wore teased his nostrils and sent a shimmer of desire running along his veins.

  He thought of the tiny motel room they would share tonight and swallowed a groan. His jeans were too tight already, just thinking about it. He shifted in his chair, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

  He couldn’t wait to go back to the motel and make mad love to her again. He wanted to ask her to marry him and stay with him forever, no matter what her past. But he knew she wasn’t ready to think about anything like that. She’d been careful to pull back wh
enever he’d tried to get closer. She was afraid of what her past had held and wary of what the future held. He couldn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t keep him from wanting to claim her.

  He wanted to help her regain her memory. But what if doing so meant he would lose her? What if she remembered she loved someone else and wanted to return to her old life?

  He shuddered and pushed the thought away. He’d face whatever came when it came. But they could enjoy each other for tonight at least.

  They looked at various pictures of the tornado and read the newspaper articles about it until the librarian announced it was closing time.

  Reluctantly, they left.

  “How about some hot chocolate?” Mel asked as he started the car.

  “That sounds delicious,” Jane said eagerly. Anything to put off returning to that tiny motel room. How could she want him so much and yet be afraid to be alone with him? She was really letting this uncertainty get to her. In fact, she was scared to death of what she might find tomorrow. Tonight might be the end of their time together. They spent an hour chatting over their chocolate.

  Back at the motel, Mel said, “Go ahead and use the bathroom first, Jane. I’ll just catch the news.”

  Was he nervous, too? She didn’t think anything ever fazed him. “All right,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Take your time.”

  She got into her pajamas, suddenly nervous and thankful that she’d brought a pair that you couldn’t see through. Which was silly, ‘cause they’d both soon be naked, she was sure. They’d seen each other before, several times, so why cover up now? When she came back, she gave him a tentative smile. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

  She picked up her hairbrush and began her nightly ritual of brushing her long hair.

  He was back in a few minutes, barefoot, wearing a blue plaid robe, his hair still damp from his shower. She was curled up in a sitting position against the headboard of the bed, watching television. He climbed in beside her and she eyed him and bit her lip.

  “Are you nervous?” Mel asked.

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  Mel sat on the bed beside her and took her in his arms. He kissed her lips, her neck then lower, running a hand under her pajamas, along her bare back. Gazing into her eyes, he asked, “Nervous about making love, or about what we may learn about you tomorrow?”