Mind of Her Own

by Diana Lesire Brandmeyer

  Slinging his laptop messenger bag over his shoulder, Collin swiped an apple for himself. “Have a great day.” And then he left for the garage.

  * * *

  Jazz stood in the kitchen, feeling dazed. Tim sat at the counter, marshmallow cereal heaped in small mountains around the outside of his bowl. Drawers and cabinets were open everywhere. She walked across to the fridge and pushed the door shut.

  “It was quite chaotic this morning, wasn’t it, Tim?”

  “Huh?” Tim looked at her with wide eyes. He picked up a green tree and popped it into his mouth.

  “Either you don’t know what chaotic means or nothing seems out of the ordinary for you.” Jazz grimaced at the mess before her. “What does Mommy do after Joey and Madison leave for school, Tim?”

  “Cleans up stuff.”

  That much was apparent to her. Collin should really get a nanny. How was one mom supposed to take care of all of this every weekday? At least the weekend would be here soon, and Collin could take over. “After everything is put back, then what does she do?”

  “Plays with me. We watch Charlie Town.”

  “Is that your friend from next door, Laurie’s son?” Jazz felt a headache starting. She didn’t think she could watch another kid today. What she wanted to do was find a pad of paper to write on. She had a great idea for a new story.

  “No! Charlie Town is a cartoon. It comes on TV after exercise time.”

  Swift relief swept through her. Tim could be parked in front of the huge screen, and she could write all morning. “Wait, exercise? Do I take you on walks or something?”

  Tim snorted, sending half-chewed cereal across the counter. “You exercise to the lady on TV. You know, she tells you to point, point, flex. I have to stay in my room or play on the couch. That’s the rule.”

  “Do we do this every day?”

  “Except when I’m at Discovery Preschool.” His foot bounced with a steady rhythm against the base of the cabinet.

  “Do I exercise every day, or do I take a day off when you’re at school?” Jazz collected the empty bowls from the table and plunked them into the dishwasher.

  “Every day because you don’t want a fat fanny.”

  Jazz processed the thought of a routine where she lay on the floor, flexing her toes. She self-consciously felt her behind. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

  “How come you don’t remember anything?”

  “Because I hit my head on something.” And I don’t even remember doing that.

  “Are you ever going to remember?”

  “I hope so, but until then you can help me when I forget, okay?”

  “Okay.” Tim went back to eating his cereal.

  Jazz closed three open cereal boxes and stuck them back in the pantry. She poured the chunky milk into the sink and ran the garbage disposal, trying not to heave at the sour smell. Then she closed the drawers and cabinets. By then Tim had finished his breakfast.

  “Put your bowl in the dishwasher, and the spoon, too.”

  “Mom does that.”

  “Not anymore. You’re big enough to do it yourself.” Jazz shook her head. How did Louisa have time to do anything if she picked up after everyone else all day?

  “Tomorrow is pancake day,” he said before sliding off the kitchen stool. “Do you remember how to make them?”

  “Not a problem.” Jazz made a mental note to check the freezer. She knew how to open a package and toss food into the microwave as well as any mom. Or maybe she’d sleep in one more morning and let Collin handle the early shift.

  Tim, taking his new job seriously, tugged on Jazz’s hand. “It’s time to pick out my clothes for today.”

  Together they climbed the stairs. Tim informed Jazz of all the chores she had to do that day. Today was Thursday, and Louisa did laundry and went to the grocery store. Could they have lasagna for dinner? Tim wondered. The now-familiar rush of panic began to rise in her chest. Laundry for five, dinner for five, groceries for five. She couldn’t possibly do this alone. She sank to the steps. “Tim, where’s the phone book? I’m going to get us some help.”

  Flipping through the yellow pages, she found what she needed. Emergency House-Cleaning Service, available 24-7.

  * * *

  Collin watched to make sure Joey made it into school before pulling out of the car lane. He hoped Madison got through the door too. The second the car stopped, she had dissolved into a group of girls who looked just like her. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Even with this morning’s fiasco at breakfast, he wouldn’t be noticeably late.

  In the rearview mirror, he caught his own gaze. “How do single parents do this?” He shook his head. Now he could add talking to himself to the strange things in his life. But who else could he talk to since his wife had disappeared? A bus passed by with an advertisement for health care written in Spanish. “Mexico,” he muttered. That was one story he could check out.

  Using the speakerphone, he dialed his mother-in-law and filled her in on Louisa’s state of mind, or rather, lack thereof.

  “She doesn’t remember being married to you or having the children?” Beth Harris asked, her voice rising with shock.

  “That’s about right. She thinks she is a writer and lives in Florida.”

  “How odd! What does the doctor say?”

  “He thinks her memory will return in time. He did ask if there was a trauma of any kind when she was a child. Was there?” He kept the car at the twenty-miles-an-hour school-zone limit, anxious to pass the sign that allowed him to move along faster.

  “No, nothing out of the ordinary. Her grandparents died and we lost a few pets. Her father has only been gone two years.”

  “Yeah, she thought you were both dead.” He flipped on his blinker and slid into the next lane.

  Beth gasped. “Both of us?”

  “She was happy to know you were still around. But she said something bizarre the first night.” The light in front of him turned yellow, and he slowed his car to a stop.

  “Can this get any stranger?”

  “You have no idea. She said her parents were missionaries and you all lived in Mexico for a while. Do you know where that came from?”

  “Mexico. Her father and I went there for a few weeks on a business trip, but Louisa didn’t go.”

  “That must be one of those things the doctor mentioned. He said she would remember parts and add her own details to them. She swallowed her pills without water because she’d learned how in Mexico where the water was scarce.”

  “She stayed with her father’s cousin, Phil Jefferson. I ran into him on my cruise last month. We’ve been seeing each other. I can ask him—maybe he’ll remember something.”

  “It’s good that you’re dating, Beth, and I’m glad it’s someone you already know.”

  “It does make it easier.”

  The light turned green, and traffic surged ahead. “If you think of anything else, give me a call at the office. I need to focus on the drive now.”

  “I will of course call if I think of anything, but right now I can’t imagine what could have caused such a trauma in Louisa’s life.” Beth then assured him she would call Louisa right away.

  * * *

  The living room, vacant of toys, looked like a peaceful resting place with the backdrop of the lake through the windowed wall. The honey-colored wood floors gleamed. The two-story stone fireplace begged to be lit. The cream-on-brown striped chairs beckoned her to rest and read a book. Jazz almost sighed with pleasure—everything was just as neat as it had been when she’d arrived from the hospital.

  “Can you come twice a week?” she asked Joy, the woman who had worked magic on the house.

  Joy peeled a yellow rubber glove off her hand. She snapped the fingers back into place before placing it into her blue plastic bucket. “Sure, we can come as often as you want to pay us.”

  Jazz smiled as she wrote a check to Cleaning Maniacs. She hesitated only a moment before signing the unfamiliar name Louisa C
opeland on the signature line. She ripped the check from the book and handed it to the woman waiting by the door. “So I’ll see you next Tuesday, Joy.” Jazz inhaled the smell of the clean house.

  Tim tugged on her hand. “Can I have my snack now?”

  “You have to eat it in the kitchen today.”

  “But I always get to eat in front of the TV.”

  “Not anymore, bucko. Rules are a-changing around here. This house is going to stay picked up and clean, and not by me. At least this room is.” Jazz wondered what Collin would say when he walked into a picture-perfect living room. When, though, was the question. He’d come home late last night, after she already had Tim and Joey in bed.

  “I don’t like the new rule. It’s like the old rules. Madison and Joey won’t like it either.”

  Jazz bent down to Tim’s eye level. “You don’t have to like it. You just have to follow it.”

  “Are you going to change the lasagna rule too?”

  “I called Laurie while you were upstairs, and she told me about a wonderful restaurant that delivers.” After telling Jazz what she needed to know, Laurie told her to make sure no one knew she planned to order eggplant lasagna if she wanted anyone to eat it.

  “Nope, I have that covered. In fact—” she checked the clock on the mantel—“dinner should be arriving from Augustino’s any minute now.”

  “What’s an ‘astino’?” Tim’s upturned nose made her smile.

  “I’m not sure. It’s a restaurant, like the Italian restaurant on the hill.”

  Tim’s eyebrows scrunched together.

  “Laurie told me about it. I don’t know where the hill is either. Tim, do you think the restaurant is on top of a real hill?”

  “Maybe.” Tim nodded. “We could go there sometime and see.”

  The front door opened, splashing sunshine on the floor as Madison bounced through, her hair bobbing in time to some band playing on her iPod. Joey followed, dragging his backpack on the floor behind him.

  “Stop!” Jazz pointed her finger at the two as they prepared to leave their backpacks on the floor. “Carry those to the kitchen.”

  “We have different rules.” Tim’s hands were anchored to his hips as he imitated Jazz. “We have a new mom, and she says things have to be done her way.”

  “Well, I’m not doing anything her way,” Madison said. She stomped off to the staircase without a backward glance. As she climbed she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be doing my homework in my room, not the kitchen. Do not bother me.” She disappeared upstairs. Her bedroom door connected solidly with the doorframe.

  At the slam of the door, Jazz grimaced. “Joey? You okay with homework in the kitchen?”

  “I don’t care.” Joey’s shoulders drooped as he made his way to the kitchen.

  The realization of how difficult this must be for the kids stunned her. They missed Louisa, the mom they were used to. Shocked by the sudden pain of their hurt, she didn’t know how to help them understand, not when she couldn’t figure out how Louisa became Jazz. Maybe if she tried to act more like Louisa, it would help give them a sense of security. Next week at Laurie’s sleepover, she planned to take a notebook, ask questions, and get this right. God had entrusted her with these lives, and she would not mess up. After all, it might be the only time in her life she would get to be a mom.

  Chapter Seven

  Jazz went outside to play with Tim and Cleo, or rather Jazz let them play while she watched from the fabulous deck. Tim threw a huge rope through the air, and Cleo ran after it, grasped it in her big jaws, and brought it back to Tim. She didn’t drop it at his feet, though. Tim would reach for it, and Cleo would back up two steps. Eventually Tim would be lucky enough to catch the raveled ends of the thick braid and would yell, “Drop.” Then Cleo would give it up, spin in circles, and the game would start over.

  Even though it was fall and they’d had some cool days, today held only comforting warmth. She curled up in a chair, feeling quite satisfied that dinner waited in the oven. She had successfully managed to get Joey and Madison to work on their homework. Motherhood wasn’t as hard as it looked.

  Jazz opened the browser on Louisa’s cell phone. All she had to do was check Amazon for her books and google her name for a list of all the interviews she’d given. But she’d been stalling all day. Why? She didn’t know—maybe she didn’t want to leave this idyllic little family. She could learn a lot here; there was nothing compared to hands-on research. And having a husband that looked like Collin was a definite bonus. But then again, he wasn’t really hers, was he?

  Maybe she could put it off another day.

  Madison screeched from inside the house. “I’m telling!”

  Battle seemed to be forthcoming, and Jazz shuddered. She had no desire to have any part of it. She’d do it now. One by one, online bookstores came back with suggested titles, none of them hers. Three search engines revealed nothing, and even Wikipedia was blank. She looked up some Christian bookstores and dialed the numbers, but the response to her question, “Do you have any books by the author Jazz Sweet?” was always the same—no such person existed. Discouraged and somewhat alarmed, Jazz swallowed back tears. Maybe they didn’t look hard enough. Maybe they were too busy to check the shelves or the computer. That had to be the reason they didn’t know her books were there.

  The next time she went to the mall, she would look for herself. And if they aren’t there? What will I do?

  * * *

  Dinner and disaster were two words that didn’t go together, but when Jazz pulled the lasagna from the oven, it was clear that tonight they would. Collin arrived home much later than he’d said, and the lasagna had shriveled in the pan. She tried cutting it into small serving pieces, thinking maybe with a salad and bread they could “make do,” as her mother would say. She discovered there was no tender giving of the pasta, so she pushed down on the knife with both hands and it broke through. The eggplant had the texture of those navy Crocs Louisa seemed fond of.

  Collin perched on a stool at the counter behind her, flipping through the newspaper. “It smells good. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “The smell is all we’re going to enjoy. I don’t think even Cleo could chew this stuff.” Jazz tossed the pan of food into the trash. She whirled around and flashed him a grin. “So let’s get ice cream for dinner.”

  Collin dropped the paper to the counter. “Ice cream, for dinner?”

  “Why not? It has calcium—probably more than this lasagna. And as a bonus, the kids will no doubt enjoy it more.” Jazz didn’t wait for him to refute her logic. She strode into the family room. “Anyone interested in a waffle cone for dinner tonight?”

  Tim and Joey thundered past her to the back door, ready to leave in case grown-up minds regained their senses. Madison hunched over on the couch.

  “Madison? Wouldn’t you rather have ice cream than vegetable lasagna for dinner?” Jazz sat next to her on the couch.

  “No. I can eat a sandwich. Can I stay home alone?” Madison looked at Jazz with the innocence of a street urchin.

  Jazz could feel what she had declared her “Louisa twitch” in her eyebrow. “Not a chance, girly girl. It’s ice-cream dinner for the entire Copeland family tonight. Get your shoes on and join the family.”

  Madison gave her a frown that would frighten a killer into confessing. “I said I don’t want to go.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not a choice.” Jazz waited for Madison to get off the couch before she joined her. “Besides, how long can it take from your busy schedule? Those boys will down their cones fast, and you’ll be back in time for whatever text-messaging event you have scheduled.”

  Once in the van, Jazz empathized with Madison, stuck in the back with her brothers. The van seemed much smaller with the entire family spilled across the back. Madison probably thought staying home alone sounded more appealing than an evening riding in the back with her brothers.

  Maybe I should have stayed home too, she thought, where it would
have been quiet. The noise from the back was becoming unbearable. “Are we almost there, Collin?”

  “It’s right around the corner. You’re frowning. Does your head hurt?” Collin reached over and stroked the back of her head. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea tonight?”

  She didn’t want to admit it, but Collin’s hand on her hair drained the tension from her. “It hurts a little, but I’ll be okay. I imagine it’s good for the children to do something normal.”

  “This isn’t normal.” Collin spoke so low, Jazz almost didn’t hear him.

  “Why isn’t it?” She dropped her voice to match his level.

  “I’m usually at work until seven, sometimes later.” Collin parked in front of Sweet Smiles Ice Creamery.

  “That’s terrible. It’s exactly why I never married and had children. I knew I couldn’t have a career and a family.”

  “Good for you, but my family has to eat, and Louisa appreciates the chance to stay home with the kids instead of working.”

  “You think she doesn’t work? She raises your kids alone, like a single parent. Better rethink your statement, Counselor.”

  “I know she works hard. I didn’t mean she doesn’t work; it’s just that she doesn’t work for a paycheck. How about you? Do you make enough in royalties that you don’t have to take other types of jobs?” He grinned. “Like being a nanny?”

  “Funny man. I’ve never been a nanny. I think—or thought—I made a lot of money, but then I couldn’t find my books online. I even called some bookstores today, and they didn’t have any of my books.” She sighed. “But that’s probably just a mistake.”

  “How many places did you call?”

  “Five, including the ones in St. Louis County.”

  “That many? And you really think all the clerks in all those stores couldn’t find even one of the books you’ve written?”