“But I remember lots of other stuff about him, too. From a long time ago.”
Addy smiled and squeezed Susan’s hand. “I’d like to hear what you remember, Susan.”
Susan smiled, feeling shy about sharing now that she had her young friend’s attention. “I guess it’s not that important.”
“Everybody’s love story is important, Susan. Why, I’ll bet there’s nothing more important.”
“Tell me yours, then.”
Addy paused to spoon a chunk of cherry nut out of her milkshake. “Danny and I were high school sweethearts, and I worked in the grocery store in Auburn while he went to school, and we came home to live happily ever after.” She chuckled. “Well, sometimes Danny says it’s more like living in a nursery rhyme than it is a fairy tale. You know, the one about the woman in the shoe with all the children.”
Susan didn’t remember the nursery rhyme, but she did remember how much mayhem Addy’s brood created when they came over to play with Cody. Sometimes the noise made it hard for her to think, but it was a happy noise that cheered her heart.
“But my fairy tale isn’t nearly as important as yours right now,” Addy said, stuffing her napkin into her empty paper cup and sitting back. “I’m waiting.”
Susan drew a deep breath and wondered where to start. She wasn’t even sure, sometimes, what order her memories belonged in—it was like sorting through a box of photos and being unsure which one had been taken the summer you were ten and which one the Christmas before that.
“Buddy was real sweet,” she said, remembering again that plump, ruddy face with its warm smile. “He helped me when I was...confused. I...I can’t remember everything, but I know when I first met him, lots of things were making me sad. And Buddy was a friend.”
She remembered the garage apartment she had rented from Buddy Hovis the year she moved to Atlanta to begin college. The two tiny rooms over the garage where Buddy operated his auto repair business were clean and neat and plain. They were a place where Susan could hide away, and she remembered wanting to hide from something.
“But Buddy wouldn’t let me,” she said. “He made me come out and talk. He told me I’d lose my freckles if I stayed inside too long.”
She hadn’t remembered that until this very moment, and it made her laugh, as it had more than twenty years earlier.
Eventually, she recalled, Buddy had coaxed her out of her shell. Although something had happened that made her quit college and almost give up on everything in her life, Buddy wouldn’t let her. He showed her how he’d made a go of his own small business, and soon she was taking in sewing—clothes, drapery, slipcovers, anything. She even started doing costumes for a local dance company, although she had lost the heart for her own dancing.
“Later, though, the dance instructor told me I could use the studio after hours if I wanted to. So I did. And it made me better, somehow.”
“Better?”
“You know, healed me. From...whatever it was that made me hurt so much.” She looked up and frowned. “It’s so hard. Sometimes I think if I don’t find all the missing pieces, I’ll just...explode.”
Addy squeezed her hand again and Susan realized how grateful she was to have someone to talk to. Someone who didn’t get so upset with all the blank spots in her past, the way Malorie did. Or someone who didn’t tell her that she shouldn’t even be trying to get well, the way her mother did. She remembered, then, about her mother and Buddy.
“I did it because of Mother, you know.”
“Did what?”
“Married Buddy.” She felt sad, now, remembering her wedding day. She had stood in the vestibule of the church, feeling shaken, torn. She had always known she wasn’t passionately in love with Buddy, but he did love her so. And her mother had convinced Susan she was doing the right thing. A steady man, Betsy had said. Someone you can rely on, like your father.
So, because she didn’t have the spirit to fight her mother, Susan had walked down the aisle in a champagne-colored lace suit that she’d made herself. She did remember fighting with Betsy about the suit. Susan had wanted pink, but Betsy had insisted on white. Neither of them won that round; neither of them felt happy about the champagne lace. But Susan didn’t tell Addy that part. She told her friend only the happy things.
And there was the other thing Susan had remembered. The thing that had happened right after the wedding, in the little Fellowship Hall where they’d had the cake and the toast to the happy couple. Susan remembered most of that, now, too, but she didn’t want to tell Addy about that, either. She wanted to worry that awhile, like a sore tooth, until she remembered all of it.
And when she did...
“I’ve got an idea,” Addy said as they cleared their trash and went back out onto Main Street. “Isn’t Malorie working down at the Lawn & Garden? Why don’t we go surprise her?”
* * *
MALORIE WAS RESTOCKING birdseed when she heard the bell jingle over the front door.
“Good morning!” she called out over the aisles. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”
Birdseed, Malorie figured, would be a big seller during the winter months, so she had placed a large order. She hoped she’d guessed right, and thought about setting up an eye-catching display on the sidewalk with some of those new bent-willow birdhouses and cedar feeders. Mr. Hutchins didn’t seem to mind what she did, although he had seemed awfully distant these past few days.
Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him about her grandmother.
Maybe she should ask Sam, instead. Except that Sam hadn’t been to the house for a couple of days and her grandmother had told her to let it lie.
“Your mother is a grown woman and deserves to make her own decisions,” Betsy said.
Once again, Malorie hadn’t had the gumption to remind her grandmother that it was Betsy herself who was always harping on the fact that Susan still wasn’t capable of thinking for herself. Malorie wished she knew which was right.
Maybe she should ask Sam that, too.
And maybe you’d better get Sam Roberts right out of your mind and get up front to see if your customer needs help, she chastised herself. Maybe you’d better admit that advice is not really what you want from Sam Roberts, anyway.
But no, maybe she was better off not admitting anything. Maybe she was better off just trying to put it all out of her mind. Mr. Hutchins and her grandmother and her sad, discouraged mother, and especially Sam Roberts.
“Oh, there you are.”
Malorie turned at the sound of Addy Mayfield’s voice, wondering if that meant her mother had “fired” their neighbor, too. What she saw next startled her, then filled her with quiet joy.
“Mother!” She knelt, clasping both Susan’s hands in hers. “Oh, Mother, what a nice surprise!”
“We’re on an outing. Addy’s idea.”
Susan looked so pleased with herself, there was so much sparkle in her eyes this morning, that Malorie wanted to hug Addy Mayfield. “What a wonderful idea. Why, it looks to me as if you’ve made a stop at the beauty shop.”
“That’s right.” Susan turned her head, giving Malorie a better view of the soft new style. “And we had milkshakes.”
“Oh, I’m jealous. I’ll bet the Dairee Dreme makes great milkshakes.”
Susan’s eyes lit up again, this time with surprise. “I used to work there.”
Malorie felt her throat tighten. Every moment like this one gave her hope and seemed to fill her heart to bursting. “You did?”
“Yes. A long time ago. Before you were born, I think.”
At that moment, realizing the memories had been triggered by a visit to a familiar place, Malorie had what was surely a stroke of genius. “Come on. I know something else that may jog your memory.”
And she pushed Susan’s chair down the cluttered aisles of the store, pointing out a few of the things she’d done to spruce up the place. When she arrived at the office door, she knocked.
After all, whether or not Betsy Foster a
pproved of Mr. Hutchins really wasn’t Malorie’s concern, was it?
Malorie heard the gravelly rumble that was Tag’s invitation to enter the office and she opened the door. Tag sat, scuffed boots on the desk, head against the wall. He barely moved, didn’t even glance at her.
Sometimes Malorie would have given anything to know what dark secrets her boss brooded over when she caught him at times like this. She fancied it was a broken heart that made him so crusty, but figured maybe she’d been watching too many movies.
“Mr. Hutchins, I wanted you to meet my mother, Susan. Mother, this is—”
“Tag.”
For the second time in moments, Malorie was filled with delight. It had worked, just as she’d hoped it would. She looked down at her mother, and her delight fizzled at the troubled expression on Susan’s face. Susan’s pink cheeks had gone pale, her eyes dark. Her hands clutched the arms of her chair.
Malorie jumped as Tag’s front chair legs hit the floor with a crack. Her eyes darted to him. He stood over the desk, glaring directly at her mother. Bewildered, Malorie looked at the only other person in the room. Addy, too, looked startled.
“So you do remember me?” Tag Hutchins said coldly.
Susan nodded. “Yes. Tag.”
“Then I guess that means you’re letting Betsy call the shots these days.”
Susan hesitated. Malorie could tell how agitated her mother was, knew how confused and upset she could get when she felt things were beyond her control. “Yes, but—”
“No need to explain, Susie.”
“Mr. Hutchins, I—”
“I’m glad you brought your mother in, Malorie. She and I go way back. But you didn’t know that, did you? She never mentioned me to you, did she?”
“No, but—”
“No reason she should, I suppose. I was just the neighbor boy. Your uncle’s best friend. It isn’t like I was real important to her, is it, Susan?”
Susan shook her head in the jerky movement she used when she was trying to clear her thoughts. “No. I...Tag...”
“Well, it was swell to see you, Susie. I’ve thought about you over the years a time or two. Hoped you were as happy as I’ve been.” He gave a short laugh that sounded anything but cheerful. Then he stalked past the three visitors and was gone.
Susan was still upset when she and Addy left, and Malorie had no idea how to calm her. No idea how to calm her boss, either, because she didn’t know what was causing his bitterness. All she knew was that her idea of stirring up more hometown memories had backfired. Still shaking, Malorie realized that some memories might be better left buried.
Like the secret she and Susan shared.
* * *
SUSAN SAT AT THE DINNER table that night eating what was set in front of her without tasting it, barely aware of moving her fork from the plate to her mouth.
So many things had happened. Some of them made sense now. Some of them didn’t.
Like her wedding day. The incomplete memory still haunted her, the same way these encounters with the man named Tag haunted her. In both cases, something important was missing. Something everyone understood but her. So the memories wouldn’t let her go.
Susan slipped away from the celebration, not an easy thing when you are the bride and therefore the one everyone wants to fawn over.
But smiling was exhausting her. She needed a break from trying to look radiant, so she ducked out of the stark little Fellowship Hall. She turned down one corridor, then another, where the lights were out and she could lean against the wall, close her eyes and drop the forced smile that was wearing her out.
Had she made a mistake? Was this all wrong? Or was this nothing more than the kind of jitters every bride felt?
With her thumb, she felt for the new ring on her third finger, left hand. She hadn’t been able to take the other one off until that very morning, when she was leaving her little garage apartment for the Atlanta church. She hadn’t wanted to be married in Sweetbranch, either. Hadn’t wanted to see all the old gang. Hadn’t wanted the reminders. It was time to leave the past behind.
So right before she’d left her apartment, she thought of the perfect place to keep the ring, a place where it would be safe. A place where she could always think of it as being close to her heart.
She knew she couldn’t stay away long without people beginning to wonder. But as she squared her shoulders and prepared to go, she heard voices, and realized the Fellowship Hall kitchen was only two doors down.
One of the voices she heard belonged to her brother, Steve. “Are you saying you didn’t even tell her?”
There was a moment of silence, then Betsy’s voice replied, “It really didn’t seem necessary.”
“Didn’t seem— Mom, are you out of your mind?”
A rustling of fabric, the ugly green satin Betsy had chosen for her dress. “I don’t have to listen to this from my own son.”
“The hell you don’t! This is the meanest, most deceitful thing I’ve ever—”
“I’ve deceived no one.”
“You’ve deceived everyone! He’s my best friend and you didn’t even tell me because you knew I’d never have let her go through with this if I knew.”
Trembling more than she had been when she walked down the aisle, the words resting heavily in her stomach, Susan started toward the voices....
The memory ended there, as it always did, and Susan stared at the black-eyed peas on her plate. The memory made her sad, even a little angry. She looked up at Malorie, who’d been upset ever since Susan’s visit to the store that afternoon. Without having to say so, they had both apparently decided not to tell Betsy about the incident.
Although maybe, Susan mused, Betsy was the only one who could explain all of it to them.
Susan remembered how good she’d felt this afternoon, going out with Addy when it was clearly something Betsy didn’t want her to do. She remembered how good it had felt, bringing her memories out one by one to examine them with Addy’s caring help.
She stared at Betsy, who was admonishing Cody to keep his peas in his spoon. Cody apparently enjoyed watching them roll around on his high chair tray.
Suddenly Susan knew the anger in her memory was for Betsy. And she was angry right now, as well, for the way she didn’t like to let Cody be a baby.
“Why did you keep a secret from me?” she asked.
Betsy and Malorie both froze.
“Whatever do you mean?” Betsy asked.
“On my wedding day. You kept a secret from me.”
Betsy took her napkin from her lap and wiped her fingers, placing the napkin carefully on her half-full plate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You kept a secret from me. And from Steve. Tell me now.”
Betsy stood and began clearing the table. “Malorie, I think your mother is finished.”
“But—”
“I am not finished!” Susan said. “I want to know. You have to tell me.”
Betsy continued clearing the table. Malorie stood and looked from one to the other uncertainly. “Grandmother, I think you should tell her.”
Betsy stood with her hands in the sink and didn’t turn around. “She’s upset and she’s not in her right mind. I should think you would understand that by now, Malorie.”
The only sound in the kitchen for the next few moments was the sound of water running in the sink and Cody banging his spoon against his plate. Susan’s shoulders sagged. She felt Malorie’s hand on her shoulder and looked up into sympathetic eyes. Susan nodded and Malorie wheeled her toward the door.
“I’ll remember soon,” Susan called out as they left the kitchen. “You can’t do anything to keep me from remembering.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TWO DAYS PASSED before Susan realized that the image haunting her was a quilt.
The revelation came to her while she threw the orange foam ball back to Sam. In a flush of excitement, she tossed the ball over his head and all the way into the hallway.
Sam looked delighted. “Wow! Whatever that was, let’s do it again!”
“My quilt!” Susan gripped the back of the chair to keep from toppling over as her concentration fled. “I want the quilt!”
Looking bemused, Sam came over and helped her sit. “What quilt? You’re not cold, are you?”
“No.” Susan shook her head. “I have to see it. The quilt.”
She had woken up in the early hours of the morning the day after confronting her mother, with tiny squares of pink and green and white spinning in her head. Soon, the little squares had settled into a pattern of circles. Then the circles joined together. And with each new configuration of the squares of color, Susan grew more confident, more peaceful inside.
On the coattails of that confidence, she had asked Malorie to call Sam so she could begin her therapy again.
But now that those shapes and colors in her head had become something she could label, the peacefulness was beginning to slip away. She felt agitated. And she felt certain she wouldn’t be able to rest until she held the quilt, could touch its weathered fabric.
For there was something about the quilt. Something she couldn’t quite remember. But she would. She knew it. And when she did, things would be okay again. Her world would be right side up again. She just knew it.
“Which quilt, Susan? Tell me what you’re talking about and I’ll get it for you.” Sam grinned at her. “Goodness knows, I’d get you a dozen of them if they give you that kind of strength.”
Susan laughed with him, buoyed by his promise that he could get the quilt for her.
“It’s green and...” She fought to retrieve the word she wanted. “Rose-colored. It has circles all around it. That’s the one I want.”
“Is it in your room?”
Susan was growing impatient with her inability to communicate. “No. I don’t know. I just see it in my head.”
The enthusiasm on Sam’s face faded.
“But it’s real,” Susan added hastily, pleased with herself for picking up on Sam’s expression and being able to interpret it. “I know it’s real.”
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