Forgotten Memories

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Forgotten Memories Page 6

by Theresa Stillwagon


  “He impressed me.”

  “His writing impressed me too.” Her granddad took her arm and led her to the door. “But he’s still a jackass.”

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t let the dean hear you call him a jackass. He thinks he’s got himself a wonderful addition to the liberal arts staff.”

  “As a professor and teacher, as a writer, I’ll have to agree with the dean.” He closed the door after him before grabbing her arm again and walking with her to the stairway. The liberal arts lecture rooms were on the second floor of the oldest building on campus, the original building. “But as a man, I’m not impressed with him.”

  “Neither am I,” she said.

  Her grandfather led her out of the building to the parking lot, to a light gray BMW.

  “So where are we going to eat?”

  “I thought we’d go to the little diner near the hospital.” His gaze fell to his hands as he unlocked the car door and opened it for her. “It’s a nice place.”

  “I’ve never been there before.” Getting into the car, she pulled on her seatbelt and waited for her grandfather to join her. “The place you toured this week, isn’t it around the hospital somewhere?”

  “It’s about a mile or so away, yes.” He glanced at her briefly before directing his gaze back to the windshield. The powerful car roared to life, and he pulled it out of the parking space. “Why do you ask?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “I know you think I’m being premature here.” He glanced at her again. “But I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

  “You’ll never be a burden, Granddad.”

  “Now I’m not.” He sighed. “But I’ve got a disease with no cure. I don’t believe it’ll be fair for you. You’re a young woman. Someday you’re going to meet someone and fall in love. Someday you’ll want to marry. I’ll just be in the way.”

  “It’ll never happen.” She peeked at him through lowered lids. “My track record with men isn’t so great.”

  “You were engaged once.”

  “And look how that turned out,” she said. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “It was good you found out what type of man he was before you married him.” He stopped the car at a light and started forward again before adding, “Not all men are as weak as him.”

  “But a lot of men like thin, blonde, beautiful women.”

  “Not all men,” he said, a sweet smile forming around his wrinkled mouth. “Your grandmother wasn’t thin or blonde, but she was the only woman I ever loved.”

  “Grandma was beautiful.”

  “You remind me so much of my sweet Grace.”

  “Everyone is always telling me I’m like grandma.”

  He didn’t say anything as he drove past the large hospital and turned into a small parking lot. Jen glanced up and spied the brightly lit, cheerful diner in front of her. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment before he said, “When I first met your grandmother, I knew she’d be the one and only woman for me. She was taken from me way too soon.”

  “But you’re not alone.”

  “I’ve felt alone for the last ten years.” He reached up and cupped her chin. “The day my Grace died, a part of me died with her.”

  A sudden truth rushed into her subconscious mind, a truth leaping from her grandfather’s own thoughts. She didn’t want to sense this thought, not now, not yet. She closed her mind. “I will not let you move into the assisted living place. I won’t allow it.”

  “I have to.” Melancholy filled his voice, a hint of tears shining bright at the edges of his eyes. Her grandfather had always been her tower of strength. When things were bad with her and Mom, he was the only person to come in and take her side. “I know you want to take care of me, Jen. I understand, but I don’t want to be a burden on you. You don’t need some old man messing up your life.”

  “How can you think you would mess up my life?” Jen touched his shoulder gently. “You’ve always been there for me when I needed you, and now I want to be there for you.”

  “You will be.” He twisted to face her. “But I won’t be living in the same place as you. I want to be by myself. I want to be with people my own age.”

  “No, I won’t let you do that, Granddad.” Jen sensed the truthfulness of his statement. She just didn’t want to admit it. “I know you’re telling me the truth. I know you need your privacy and want to be around people your own age, but I also know I’m not ready for you to leave my home. I still need you.”

  His lips rose up at the corners, crinkling the soft skin at the edges of his mouth. “Are your amazing psychic abilities telling you this?”

  “Yes.”

  His thumb smoothed over her jaw. “Then, if you search deeply enough, you’ll understand why I need to do it.”

  “I’m not going to read your thoughts, Granddad.”

  “I’m giving you my permission, granddaughter.” He cupped her chin. “You and I have a special bond, Jen. I trust you.”

  Yes, they did. She had inherited her psychic abilities from her grandfather. His was the only mind she could truly read, as he could read hers. But neither invaded the other. They never peeked inside the other without first seeking permission.

  His fingers tightened on her chin and lifted it. “You need to know what I feel, Jen.”

  “Granddad, I don’t…”

  “It’s okay.”

  Jen hesitated for a moment before lifting one trembling finger and tracing the outline of his beloved face. Sorrow, grief, terrible emotional pain ached through her fingers, sending her heart racing out of control. Yet the grieving feelings were surrounded by love and hope, by knowledge and memories of a lifetime, by a strong belief he needed to do this thing. She wanted to give her grandfather everything, but she knew she wasn’t capable of doing it.

  “This is really what you want to do?”

  “You know it is.” He smiled at her. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” Searching into his heart, she sensed his love for her riding high and fast. And she sensed something else too, when she focused on his mind, something void and empty. Where memories used to live, now only cold space remained. A tear fell from her eyes as she pulled her mind from his and opened her door.

  “I’ll be all right, Jen.”

  Yes, but for how long? Her grandfather’s mind had always been so full of interesting memories and thoughts, of more things than she’d ever expected to experience in her life. Was this what Alzheimer’s looked like, a void where thoughts used to live?

  Sometimes she hated her abilities.

  Letting him go was the right thing for her to do, but she wasn’t ready to be that unselfish. “I don’t want you leaving me. I’m not ready to let you go.”

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he stared at his clamped fists.

  “Granddad, I’m starving.” She stepped out of the car, bending down to stare at him. “We should get inside.”

  Grieving eyes gazed into her face, sad, almost blank eyes. His pain raced from him to her, blinding her inner being with turmoil. Unhappiness so stricken and cold, her heart threatened to break under the weight of it.

  Did he always feel this loneliness? Did he always carry this tremendous burden? After over ten years, did he still cry for her grandmother?

  She didn’t want to feel it at all.

  “Jen, I will be leaving you—soon.”

  “I’m hungry.” Standing up straight, she watched as he exited the vehicle. “It’s getting cold. We need to get inside before we both freeze.”

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  She didn’t look at him.

  “Oh well.” He sighed. “There is one thing I need from you.” He leaned against the car, spreading his hands wide across the roof toward her. “I want you to come with me to check out the assisted living place I visited this morning. Your father and brother will be there too.”

  She glanc
ed at him. “You haven’t decided to move there yet?”

  “I’ve decided, Jen,” he said softly. “I just want you to see the place.”

  “I’m not going to talk to you about this anymore.” Turning toward the brightly lit entranceway, she stepped away from her grandfather. Tears threatened to fall, but she pushed them aside. She knew she was being selfish, yet… “I’m not changing my mind, Granddad. I want you to stay with me.”

  “Jennifer.”

  The familiar tone froze her feet into the wet snow.

  “I may be an old man.” Biting anger laced his slowly spoken words. “I may be ill. But I still have the right to make my own decisions.”

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  His hand fell to her shoulder. “I dread the day too.”

  “Oh, Granddad.” She placed her hands over his, entwining their fingers together. Strength leaped into her body, love into her soul. “I’ll always take care of you.”

  “But I don’t want you to.” He squeezed her hand. “Your father and brother agree with me. Sometime next week the three of us are going to tour the assisted living facility a few blocks from here. I want you to come with us.”

  “What about Mom? Have you talked to your one and only daughter about your decision?” Frustrated anger burned in her tone. “Shouldn’t she have a say in what happens to you?”

  “I called her.”

  “And Kimberley?”

  “Your sister isn’t answering her phone.” His warm gaze focused on her face again. “Your father will call you when we set up the appointment for the tour. Will you be there for me, Jen?”

  “I’ll…let you know.”

  “Your opinion has always been important to me.” He studied her closely. “But I’m still going to move whether you agree to it or not. I’ve already made up my mind.”

  Chapter 6

  The rest of Jen’s week didn’t go any better than Wednesday. She still couldn’t get the thought of her grandfather living in one of those nursing homes, like a sick old man, out of her mind. And now she was facing a lecture hall full of leering, smirking freshmen.

  They’d all heard the newest rumors about her.

  They were lies, but it was more exciting for her male students to think their history professor might actually be willing to trade sexual favors for a passing grade.

  Damn, she hated what was happening to her.

  And it didn’t help matters that another rumor was going around claiming she actually did grant such a favor to one of her upper level students.

  “Professor Ferguson,” a small voice broke through her thoughts. “You were explaining to us about the Irish Catholics in Canada.”

  “Yes, they were called Fenians.” She looked down at her notes and took a deep breath before continuing. “In June of 1866, a group of well-armed men crossed over the Niagara River near Buffalo, New York to attack the Province of Canada. The Fenians wanted to destabilize British rule in Ireland by starting a military crisis in Canada.”

  “But they didn’t do it?” the same girl asked.

  “They did win this battle,” Jen said. “The retreat of the Canadian militia was celebrated by the Irish patriots. The Battle of Ridgeway had been the first Irish victory against British rule since 1745. It didn’t matter to them that it was one sided. The Canadian volunteer force were outgunned and outmatched. Three of the Canadian dead were students from Trinity College who’d volunteered to fight when the call came out for the need.”

  A boy sitting in one of the upper seats raised his hand. “But why did the Irish attack Canada? I mean, shouldn’t they have stayed to fight in their own country? What good would it do to fight Canadians?”

  A hush fell over the room when the door at the top of the auditorium opened and Adam stepped through it, dressed in a well-fitted suit with a black cowboy hat gripped in his hand. He nodded in Jen’s direction before settling easily into one of the upper seats. Female voices rose up with interest and giggling erupted through half-raised hands. Bold glances from the pretty young women sitting haphazardly all around the room traveled backward. One of the bolder females twisted her entire body around to study the new arrival, leaning forward to reveal her more prominent assets to every male in the room.

  Adam smiled in her direction.

  The slut, Jen thought.

  “Professor Ferguson,” the boy said. “Why did those Irish Catholics attack Canada?”

  Tearing her eyes off Adam’s slouching body, she looked at the questioning student. “That’s a good question. One I’m not sure anyone can answer. I do know that the Fenians had two things in mind when they formed their secret group in North America. The first factor of the group wanted to cause an uprising in Ireland itself. The second planned on going a different route. They planned on exchanging the rule of Canada with the rule of Ireland. They saw Canada as an easy target.”

  When Jen glanced quickly upward to the grinning cowboy, he straightened his long legs into the aisle and winked boldly at her.

  “Professor Ferguson,” her more attentive female student said. “You were explaining about the Fenians.”

  “Yes.” She glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes to go. “The Fenians never succeeded in their quest. What they did do was strike fear into the settlers, the government of Canada, and the militia. As a result the militia became more organized and better trained. The fear also forced the government to purchase updated weapons for their solders to use in battle.”

  “That’s good,” one of the students near the middle of the large room said. “Too bad it took a battle to get them to act.”

  Jen nodded at the boy, sweeping her eyes lightly over the attentive man. “You’re right. Yet other things were also happening within the Canadian government at the time. It caused the promotion of nationalism and pushed the Confederation forces to once again become popular with the people. This led to the birth of the Canada we know now.”

  “I know it’s almost time to go,” the pretty girl in the front row said. “But I have a few questions.”

  “You can always ask anything of me.”

  A male voice said loudly, “I have something I want to ask you, Professor.”

  Jen sighed, ignoring the immature statement.

  The male laughter stopped as soon as it had started, surprising her with its abrupt end. At least once in every one of her classes one of the boys said something along the same lines as the kid’s comment, and a loud burst of laughter always followed.

  Looking up toward the back of the large lecture room, she spied Adam sitting in a different seat a little further down the center aisle. Instead of lounging in the back row by himself, he now sat behind a row of silent young men. He glanced up at her then and saluted.

  What have you done, Adam Craine?

  Jen only thought the thank you, but he nodded as if he’d heard the words.

  “Professor Ferguson?”

  She pulled her gaze off Adam and looked to her right.

  “She doesn’t want to answer any more of your stupid questions,” another female beside the inquiring student said. “She wants to be with her boyfriend. And the class is almost over anyway. We’ve the party to go to tonight, remember?”

  “Oh, I guess my question can wait until Monday.”

  “Please don’t ever think any question is stupid.” Jen stared hard at the second girl before moving her eyes to the first one. Grinning, she said, “But it is Friday, so I guess I’ll dismiss the class a little early. But before you leave,” she said, raising her voice over the bedlam of moving students. “I need to remind you to turn in your subjects for your term papers on Monday.”

  “Can I write one on the Irish Catholics?”

  Jen glanced at the girl in the front row and nodded. “That’ll be fine.”

  Yipping yells and wild laughter greeted her dismissal, the rustling and scraping of seats and feet exiting the upper and lower doorways soon faded to the quietness of an empty weekend classroom. She glanced up at th
e cowboy a moment later, and jerked her head back down to her notes. He wasn’t alone now.

  The little cheerleader reminded her so much of her younger sister. She had the same way about her. As the student stood only inches from Adam, a cunning smile lifting the corners of her mouth, Jen saw another face in her mind, of a person she never expected or wanted to see again. Emotions Jen hadn’t felt in a long time burned down her esophagus, like a fire, as she watched the couple through half-closed lids.

  They’re not your ex-fiancée and your sister, she thought.

  No, she wasn’t going to go there.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Adam’s deep growl brought her head quickly up. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking past him. “Where’s your little— I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted upward and unexpressed laughter choked his voice. “Like I said, I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Why?” It was none of her business, yet it was the first thing she thought to say.

  “I’m in town talking with my lawyer. I’m trying to force the Mountain View Hotel to honor my grandfather’s contract.”

  “How is it going?”

  “It’s…frustrating.”

  She nodded. “I can understand that. William had a run-in with someone at that place a few weeks ago. He came back all pissed off.”

  “William gets pissed off?”

  Jen grinned, liking the look shimmering from Adam’s eyes, liking the truth she sensed beaming from his mind. “He can take a lot more bull than Jack or I can but, yes, he does get pissed off on occasion.”

  “He seems like a strong person.”

  Gathering her notes, she reached under the lecture stand and pulled out her large bag. “Just because he’s an accountant doesn’t mean he’s a weakling.”

  “I never said he was weak.” Adam glanced down for a second before looking up. “I thought you might like to get some lunch somewhere.”

  “You would rather go to lunch with me instead of…”

 

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