Mind of Her Own

by Diana Lesire Brandmeyer

  “They might not even have taken the time to look.” Weariness mushroomed in her head. She was beginning to doubt she was a famous author, or an author at all, but that didn’t make her Collin’s wife, did it? She wrestled with that thought for a moment.

  “Are we going in or not?” Madison asked with a perfect teenage attitude.

  “Yes. Help Tim get out of his seat, please,” Collin said. He put the van in park and turned off the engine. The doors automatically unlocked.

  Jazz pushed the button to slide open the side door of the van. Warmth from outside rushed in, displacing the cool air-conditioning. “It’s still great weather for ice cream. Let’s go, everybody. Double scoops in waffle cones!”

  Once inside, Jazz looked at the quaint interior, filled with old-fashioned ice cream tables and chairs. It looked like a place to bring a date. She wondered why Collin would want to bring her and the kids here. Why not go to the Lick and Drip in the strip mall close to their house? They’d passed right by it on their way here.

  The glass-fronted freezers held an array of flavors in big tubs. Jazz pursed her lips. She didn’t know which to choose. She didn’t feel adventuresome today, so she would pick “old reliable,” the one that had brought her through many trials.

  “Ice cream parlors have such a unique smell, don’t they? Like cookies and childhood rolled into one.” Collin interrupted her thoughts.

  Jazz inhaled. “It does smell good in here, but I’m not sure I feel the same as you. Let’s see, I’d describe it as a place where vanilla cools the sunburn from a day at the pool.”

  “Not bad, pretty much what I said. You just said it more descriptively. Is butter pecan still your favorite?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I like mint chocolate chip.” Jazz tried to read the puzzled look on Collin’s face. “Let me guess. Louisa hates mint chocolate chip?”

  “‘Anything green and frozen can’t taste right’ was her phrase,” said Collin.

  “Fine. I’ll get the butter pecan. Maybe it will bring back my other personality.”

  “Get whatever you want.”

  “Are you really going to order ice cream?” Joey tugged on her shirt hem.

  “Why not? I love ice cream, don’t you?”

  “I like ice cream, but, Mom, you almost never get any ’cause it makes your hips big.”

  Jazz caught Collin’s gaze on her. He was holding back a smile, or maybe a laugh; she wasn’t sure. She ignored him and bent down to Joey’s level. “Will you still love me if my hips get bigger?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I’ll have two scoops. Joey, since I’m being brave about my hips, what kinds of ice cream do you think I should get?”

  “Bubble gum and cookie dough. They’re the best.”

  “You’re sure?” Jazz wondered how frozen gum could be a treat.

  “Yes. Are you going to get the same ice cream as me?” Joey looked at her with awe.

  Jazz stood. “I’ll have one scoop of bubble gum and one of cookie dough, please, in a waffle cone,” she said to the shiny-faced clerk behind the counter.

  The five of them sat at one of the round tables. Jazz felt odd as the children watched her finish her ice cream right down to the last piece of the cone.

  “You did it,” said Joey. “Just like you said.”

  She blew a big bubble with the gum and let it pop. “Good choice, Joey. I didn’t know those flavors would taste so good together.” The small boy in front of her beamed a toothy grin that tugged at her heart.

  “Jazz?” Collin leaned over with a napkin. “You have ice cream on your chin.”

  She leaned forward and let him wipe the spot. Her breath caught as he came in closer. Did he plan to kiss her? In front of his children? She scooted her chair away from him. “Thanks, Collin. What’s next for the evening?”

  Collin sat back in his chair, a frown on his face. “I guess we’d better head home. It’s almost bedtime.”

  “Do we have to?” Madison asked.

  “Is your homework finished?” Collin peered at his daughter.

  Madison folded her arms in front of her and cocked her head in a don’t-mess-with-me pose. “No.”

  “Then home we go since you didn’t do your homework after school like you’re supposed to.”

  “But, Dad, things are different.” Madison pouted and then her bottom lip quivered. “Mom isn’t here anymore.”

  “Yes she is, you dope. She’s right there,” said Joey.

  Madison flung her chair back as she scooted away from the table. “It is not her. She just looks like Mom and talks like Mom, but she isn’t Mom!” Tossing a disgusted look in Jazz’s direction, she continued with a sneer. “Mom would never eat that much ice cream.” Madison spun on her heel and headed for the exit.

  “Madison! Sit down,” said Collin to Madison’s disappearing back.

  With a gentle touch, Jazz put her hand on Collin’s shoulder. “Let her go. This has to be confusing to her. You and I are having trouble with it. Why shouldn’t she?”

  “Is Madison in trouble?” Tim’s worried face pierced Jazz’s heart. These children shouldn’t have to deal with this.

  “No, she’s not, Tim.” Jazz folded her napkin and placed it on the orange tray resting on the table. “I think we should go home, Collin. Who wants to carry the tray to the trash can?”

  “I can do it,” said Joey.

  “Great! I’m glad you offered, Joey.” Jazz’s praise lit his face.

  Back in the car, Jazz opened the mirror on her visor to check for more ice cream spots. She glanced up to see Madison pouting in the backseat. She wondered what the relationship between Madison and her mother had been like. One thing was for sure: if tonight was any indication, she didn’t think Louisa and Madison were good friends.

  “I called your mom today after I dropped the kids off at school.” Collin backed the car out of the parking space.

  Collin talking to her mom. That sounded wrong when she was so sure she’d lost her mother a long time ago. She wanted to talk to her, but what would she say? “Hi, I’m your daughter, but I don’t remember you after my twelfth birthday. Do you still read true murder books and knit sweaters?” Anxiety threaded through her fingers as she twisted her ring in circles. “What did she say?”

  “She’s concerned. I’m surprised she didn’t call you herself today.”

  “Maybe she did while I was outside with Tim. So does she remember any traumas I experienced as a child?”

  “None that should have made you want to forget your identity. But she did have a connection with Mexico. Your parents went on a business trip, but you stayed with a relative while they were gone.”

  “What relative?” The bubble-gum ice cream in her stomach felt like it expanded into one giant bubble pressing up into her throat, and it didn’t feel good. She twisted the ring faster.

  “Your dad’s cousin. You could ask her for more details.”

  She pressed the button to lower the window and stuck her head outside. “Collin, can you pull over? I’m going to be sick.”

  Collin bumped off the pavement and onto the shoulder of the road seconds before the giant bubble of ice cream erupted from Jazz.

  * * *

  Louisa lay curled on the couch like an infant. Her eyes were clenched shut, and a tear leaked and ran down the bridge of her nose. Collin gently wiped it dry with his finger. She didn’t move away from his touch, and that concerned him. She must be in a lot of pain, he thought. “I brought you an ice pack for your head. It might help the headache.”

  She rolled over onto her back and took it from him, then plopped it on her forehead. She winced as the cold bag touched her skin. “Thanks, it might.” Her words came out with a quiver.

  Collin knelt down on the floor next to her, reminding himself not to call her Louisa again. “Jazz, did you remember something? Is that what made you sick?” he pressed.

  “No memory. I think it’s just the ice cream.” Her lips resembled a ventriloquist’s
as she tried not to move. “My head hurts worse than it has before.”

  “I’ll get you a pain reliever.” He stood. He didn’t like how pale her skin looked. “Maybe you need the stronger stuff?”

  “I think so. Get the one from the pharmacy, the good stuff,” she whispered.

  Feeling more in control, he bounded off to the kitchen for her medication and a glass of water. He felt hopeful even though his wife was miserable. The doctor had said the headaches would get worse as her memory returned, and he thought the conversation about her mom just might be a clue. One he would explore even if it was painful for his wife.

  He brought the pain pills and water to her, expecting her to reject the water like the last time. He felt some relief when she took it from him. She swallowed the pills with a sip from the glass.

  He knelt on the floor again. “Do you realize you took your pills with water this time? Do you think your memory is coming back in small ways?”

  “Collin, I feel horrible, and right now I don’t want to discuss my medical condition.”

  He started to rise from the floor but halted when she reached out for him.

  “Don’t go. I just don’t want to talk about me right now. Tell me about the trial you’ve been preparing for—or can you not talk about it?”

  “I can’t share details,” Collin said, sinking back to the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him. “I could tell you that my client is not guilty.” He grinned. “They never are.”

  “Right. How do you defend someone when you think they might not be so innocent?”

  “That’s what I’m paid to do.” He frowned. “Sometimes I don’t like my job.”

  “So why are you doing it?”

  “You know why.” At the confused look on her face, he swept his hand around the room. “For this—for the kids and for you.”

  She rolled away from him. “Wrong answer. You’re doing it for you, not for me.”

  He touched her shoulder. “You just said not for you—as in Jazz? Or Louisa? Is that what you meant?”

  “Collin, leave me alone. You know I meant for me—Jazz. Please, I just want this headache to go away. Let me sleep.”

  He nodded, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, he thought he might be on the right track. He would keep hounding her until her memory broke through, but maybe now wasn’t a good time. He reached over her, grabbed the throw to drape it across the back of the couch, and gently spread it over her.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Chapter Eight

  Except for the white brick and gray siding, the house next door was a mirror image of the home Jazz had just left. Standing at the door, she paused before pushing the doorbell. Her stomach felt queasy. Maybe she should go back. Had she brought the right clothes for a sleepover? She had cotton pj’s in a backpack Madison had loaned her, but maybe she should have brought that cinnamon-colored satin lounge set hanging in the closet. She didn’t know.

  The door opened, and Laurie’s bright, whitened smile welcomed her. “You’re here! Come in! I can’t believe you came! We’re gathering in there.” She pointed to the room at the right of the doorway.

  “I’m here, but you have to help me. It’s going to be weird. They know me, but I don’t know them.” Jazz crossed the entryway and stopped, surprised at the appearance of the family room. Their homes seemed to have the same floor plan, but the house Louisa lived in had the touch of a decorator while Laurie’s house seemed to have been decorated for children. The windows Jazz loved in Louisa’s home were here, but they were covered in heavy fabric blocking the lake view.

  “That’s why I had you come early. I thought you would be more comfortable if you didn’t walk into a room of women staring at you.” Laurie ran a hand through her tangled curls.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. So where do I know them from?” Jazz resisted the urge to clasp her hands in front of her.

  “School. We met at our kids’ preschool. We started taking turns bringing all the kids home once a week.” She hovered against the doorway.

  “All the kids? How many are there?” Jazz made her way to a denim sofa that rested in front of a wall-size television. She sank into the cushions and wiggled between two bright-red pillows.

  “Just five. Which means once in a while you get the month off.”

  “Five?” Jazz couldn’t imagine how she would handle that many children at once. She picked at a piece of Cleo’s hair embedded in her sweater. “Are they all boys?”

  “Yes. It’s much easier that way. They like the same activities. Besides, it’s only four if you don’t count Tim.”

  Babysitting five boys? She didn’t sign up for this, but apparently it was something Louisa did with ease, so now she was stuck with the job. “How do we get them home?” Jazz took in the crayon-colored pillows adorning most of Laurie’s floor space, along with picture books. Maybe she needed to brighten Louisa’s house, make it more kid-friendly.

  “That’s the fun part. We all meet at school and put the car seats in the van of the mom taking them home. It’s quite a system, but we’ve managed to figure out what works the best.” Laurie plunked down on the sofa next to her.

  “When do I have everyone?” Did she have time to arrange the family room for the kids to play in? The basement would be ideal, but Collin had been clear that it belonged to him.

  “Louisa should have a calendar somewhere with all the dates that are hers.”

  Jazz felt a slice of pain in her forehead. “I haven’t seen a calendar.”

  “She has a notebook she keeps everything in. Maybe it’s in the van or the kitchen desk?” Laurie jumped up from the sofa. “I have my master list. Let me get it, and then we can figure this out.”

  Jazz watched Laurie almost fly from the room. She didn’t blame her; she’d like to fly out of this room and back into her own life. What would she do with five little boys? She would have to ask Tim to help her and hope he didn’t lead her astray.

  Laurie bounded back into the room, paper in hand. “You have next Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday? So soon?” She managed to squeak the words.

  “We could trade if you want. I have the week after. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable by then.”

  “Or maybe Louisa will return.”

  Jazz noticed Laurie’s discomfort at her statement. “I know I’m supposed to be Louisa, but I don’t remember anything! It’s frustrating to be handed a life you know nothing about and then be told to live it. It’s like playing a board game, and you get the card where you have an instant family and responsibilities to fill.” She sank farther into the sofa. “It’s exhausting.”

  Laurie dropped into a chair. “I can’t imagine waking up with a family to take care of. It’s much easier when the kids come one at a time and you can adjust to your life changing.”

  The doorbell rang, cutting off any more deep conversation between the two as Laurie scurried to answer it.

  Jazz listened to the lighthearted banter and giggles of the women at the door. It seemed they had all arrived together. As her foot began to tap the carpet, she squeezed her hands together, tensed her shoulders, then released the tension building inside her. Why did she care what these women thought of her?

  “Now, remember, she doesn’t know she’s Louisa,” Jazz heard Laurie explaining to the women. “So introduce yourself and make her feel welcome.”

  “But it’s so weird.” Even with the classic rock music Laurie had playing in the background, the loud whisper seemed to echo through the house.

  Yet another voice drifted in. “Shh. She’ll hear you. Besides, I wish I could wake up and be someone else a lot of days.”

  Jazz tightened her fists again and released them. She wished they would come in and get this over with. Why wait for them? She stood, deciding to forge ahead when she realized they must feel as strange about this as she did.

  At the doorway, she paused and rested her hand on the doorframe. “So, Laurie, any food around here? Hi
, everyone. I’m the strange woman who doesn’t remember who she is.” She grinned. “Maybe you all can fill me in on my life.”

  “Food! Of course. Jill, can you help me carry in the trays? Tina, you stay and get to know our new friend, Jazz.” Laurie seemed relieved to give orders.

  “Her gift is telling people what to do.” Tina held out her hand. “I’m Tyler’s mom.”

  Jazz shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m grateful for Laurie’s gift. This way I can talk to you alone for a few minutes without facing so many new people at once.”

  Tina’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. I didn’t take it as a condemnation.” Jazz smiled at her. “So we have maybe two minutes? Tell me what our friendship is like, please.”

  “In two minutes?” Tina laughed. “We haven’t known each other long; this is my first year of being at this preschool. Louisa and I share an interest in reading.”

  “What do you read?” Jazz loved to read, and now she’d discovered a connection to the woman she didn’t remember.

  “Biographies of famous women, mostly; we call it our upper-class tabloid fix. We can’t get enough of other people’s lives. I just finished reading one about Jane Austen. I can loan it to you if you want to read it.”

  Before Jazz could respond, the other women came in bearing trays of snacks. “We have everything kids wouldn’t eat and some things they love, like chocolate.” Laurie set the tray on the wooden trunk that served as a coffee table.

  “So what’s the plan for the night, Laurie?” Tina asked. “Games, gossip, or girl time?” She turned to Jazz. “Girl time is my favorite since I have all sons.”

  “How many do you have?” The politeness of the conversation had driven Jazz to the edge of screaming. Instead she flopped into a chair.

  “Three, and Tyler is the youngest. He’s four and wants to be a meteorologist.”

  “Just wait until you take him for the afternoon. The other week when I took him home, I learned about cloud formations.” Laurie plucked a grape from one of the bowls and popped it into her mouth.