I didn’t answer.
“Well the nurse gave a good report. Said you’ve done your exercises and rested well.” She sat down in the chair next to my bed. “I never dreamed things would turn out so well for us. Hannah is in prison. You are an addict. But in the end, you will both be well.”
I turned my head and stared at the wall. It was the only rebellion left to me.
“A simple thank you would suffice, Lily. Doesn’t it feel nice to sleep naturally? To take Tylenol for pain? To not need so much? When you first came here you were half starved. Standing on my porch in those awful cutoffs, and it wasn’t more than fifty degrees outside. You were nothing but a skinny redneck. And now, look at you. You are healthy. ” She stood up. “I went shopping for you.”
“What did you say?” I whispered.
“I have some new clothes for you. You’ll need to wear them when you go see Hannah.”
“You called me redneck.”
“I called Angel a redneck. But you, Lily, are nothing like her.” She smiled sweetly and walked away. When she returned, she carried two shopping bags.
“These are for you. I bought them at the Gilded Lily. I thought it was fitting to purchase your new look from a store that shares your lovely new name. Have you ever shopped at one? Did they have one in Tennessee?”
I started to shake my head no. I started to tell her how me and Momma shopped for clothes at the general store. Where behind all the candy barrels stood a discount rack of clothes: T-shirts with beaded fringe, ribbed tank tops that said Great Smokies, jeans designed more for farm work than fashion. Nothing was ever more than a few dollars. But then I remembered what Lily would say. And I nodded. “Sure. Been there lots of times.”
“Look here,” the old woman said, as she pulled a sweater out of the bag. “The lady at the store told me this was a great deal. It had been eighty, but it was marked down to fifty.”
She held it up to the light. It was a shade of green that reminded me of home. The same money shade of Daddy’s car.
“Would you like to try it on?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Let’s get you some pants to go with it. I imagine it’s hard to judge a top unless you’re wearing the right pants for it.”
She pulled a pair of jeans from the bag, with little studs where the belt should be and a lacy stitch across the pockets. She undid my wrists and helped me dress.
I looked at the tags. I was wearing a hundred dollars’ worth of clothes. Half the price of Black Snake trailer. More than Momma and Daddy would spend on a month of groceries.
“Lovely,” the old woman said.
There wasn’t a mirror, except for the small one that I used to practice my story for you. I looked down at myself. I’d never worn such a pretty color, or such thick soft cloth. Never worn jeans that weren’t skintight or didn’t have holes in them. I stared at myself and had no idea if I looked pretty or ugly. Or maybe something more strange: decent.
“Perfect,” the old woman said softly. “I can’t wait till Hannah sees you.”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Is there…,” she began, then stopped. “Did anything unusual happen while I was away?”
It might have been another test. Maybe she set me up after all. Sent people there to see what name I would give.
But then maybe she didn’t. “No,” I said, and shrugged.
She stared at me until I looked away. “Take off your clothes. You need to keep them fresh and pretty.”
I was starting to undress when the door went boom again. We both jumped.
“Let me in,” the man’s voice called. “I know you’re in there, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Daniel,” the old woman said in a low voice. “This is a private part of my home, and I demand that you respect my privacy.”
“I’ll wait as long as I have to. Now open this door.”
The old woman turned to me. “Sit down in the chair.” She smoothed up the bed covers. Pulled the blankets over the wrist restraints. She walked to me and smoothed my hair down, tossed it over my shoulders a bit. Then she turned to me. “Remember Tennessee and what you did before you left. Remember you’ll see your mother because of me. Don’t mess it up. It’s showtime, Lily.”
She walked to the door and opened it. Daniel stepped inside. He looked around the room.
“Daniel, what on earth—,” the old woman began.
“It’s her,” he said, as he looked at me. “Look at her. Look at her hair.”
“Yes,” the old woman said. “This is Lily.”
He stepped toward me. “I’m Daniel.”
I didn’t know what to say yet, and so I stayed quiet. Was your Daniel safe? Could I whisper help? Would that one word send me to a Tennessee prison? And if it did, would it be worth it? Would I be Angel again? Would I meet Janie there?
“She took a fall, Daniel. She was working here as we slowly got to know one another, and she took a bad fall. She didn’t have health insurance, so I thought it best to provide private care. She felt awkward, since she doesn’t know us, so I agreed to keep the incident and the expense private.”
“No, no,” he said. “You don’t owe any explanations, this is wonderful. I can’t believe it. You found her.” He hugged her warmly. “Good job.”
“That’s kind of you, Daniel,” the old woman said, and smiled.
“Are you taking her to see Hannah?”
She nodded. “Of course. She has so much to tell her.”
“Really? Like what?”
I looked at the old woman and she gave me a quick nod. I took a deep breath and wanted to cry. Because I knew then I wouldn’t ask for help. Because I knew I couldn’t ask him for help. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m gonna say thank you.”
II
I was out of the basement. Back in our room. I’d done so well with Daniel, the old woman set me free. Almost. The door clicked before she walked away.
But finally, I was back in your old room. The window was fixed. The bed was clean again. I opened the closet door. There was my bag. The one I’d hid beneath the bacca leaves. The one I filled with just enough food and water to help me escape after I burned Black Snake trailer. I looked inside it and saw my cutoffs. I pulled them out and searched the pockets. Everything was still there.
I looked at the picture of me. I imagined new right words. Ones that would please the old woman. Ones that would heal you. “My name is Lily Adams. This is me and my daddy washin’ the car. I’m doing all I can to help him and he’s workin’ hard so we’ll have somethin’ nice to be proud of. That’s what good families are supposed to do.”
I found the pocket watch next. “This doesn’t tell time anymore, but that don’t matter much. Even though it’s broken, even though it’s old, its message is the same. It says Love.”
Next was the milk cap. I sighed. I couldn’t think of any words that would make it all better. “This is nothin’,” I whispered. “A person like me, with the good life you sent me to, has no reason to hold on to trash.”
I pulled out the soap. “I used to want to live in a hotel when I was a kid. And because of you, because of your mother, I’ve done that now.”
“Lily?” a voice whispered.
I turned to the breakfast slot. I saw someone had pushed it open slightly.
“Yes?”
“It’s Bethie. Hannah’s sister. I was the volunteer that helped you at the hospital. Can you break the window?”
“What?”
“There’s not much time and I can’t find a key to this door. Can you break the window? Is there a chair or something? We have a ladder outside you can climb down. I’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t…,” I started to say, then stopped. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’ll tell you everything later, but if you want to get away, we need to go now. Break the window, Lily.”
I picked up the chair by the desk. I threw it as hard as I could, turned my back to the familiar sound of everything brea
king. Large pieces of jagged glass remained. I picked up the chair and knocked at each of them. Over and over, until the glass was nearly gone. Until I could safely stick my head outside and see the ladder propped against the house. I took a deep breath. It had been so long since I had smelled the mountain. I went and grabbed my backpack, the one with my cutoffs and pocket treasure, and threw it out the window. I pulled the quilt from the bed and laid it over the bottom of the window to protect my skin from any further hurt.
As I climbed down the ladder, Bethie came running through the woods. “This way!”
I grabbed my bag and followed her until we came to a road. Daniel was inside a car, waiting for us. I jumped in the back-seat, Bethie in the front.
“Let’s go!” she said, and then turned to me and started talking fast and loud. “We knew she was holding you prisoner. Daniel came today because he didn’t believe me. He had to see for himself that it wasn’t another lie. That you really are Hannah’s daughter.”
“How did you know?” I asked. But she misunderstood, and thought I meant about being held prisoner.
“After you left the hospital, Mother asked me to keep my distance. You didn’t know us, who we were yet, and she said she wanted to introduce you slowly to our family, to who you really are. She was afraid if you saw me again, if you found out I was her daughter, you’d remember me from the hospital and get suspicious. So I stayed away. And it all seemed to be going well. Every time I called, she said she was going to tell you soon. But then one day she said you disappeared; without warning, you ran away. At first I believed her. I mean, the first time I met you, you were a runaway. Why wouldn’t you do it again? But then things didn’t add up. Like the way she closed the hotel down. Peak season, and she closed it down. And the way she sent all the workers away, without notice or warning. Just one day cleared house. I tried to talk to Father, but he couldn’t help. He can barely walk down the hall now, let alone know what his wife is up to. I noticed the nurse, of course. Mother said she was for Father. That he needed full-time care. Mother said the nurse had a room in the basement. That she stayed there when she wasn’t needed. And I started thinking why? Why wouldn’t the nurse stay on Bedroom Hall? With all the workers away? All those empty rooms? So one night, I stayed there. I told her my husband was painting, and I couldn’t be near the fumes. I snuck down to the basement and saw the nurse sitting in a chair outside the door. I showed her my hospital badge. Told her I was there to see the patient, that I’d been called in to offer counseling. She looked at my badge closely. Saw that it was official, and she let me in. I didn’t know what I’d find as I stepped through those doors. But there you were, sleeping and tied down. I knew something bad was wrong. I knew you needed help.” She turned back toward the front. “Daniel!” she screamed.
He slammed on his brakes. Through the bit of moon that peaked through the clouds we all saw her. She was standing in the middle of the road. We couldn’t see her face. We just saw her dark shape, her long black skirt, her long gray hair. The outline of her was a shade darker than the night. Just like Momma’s gun. Just like any other lie about sweet peace.
“What’s she doing?” Bethie whispered.
“Stay in the car,” he said to her. “I’ll talk to her.” But before he could get out, she stepped toward us.
“You can’t have her,” she screamed to Daniel. “She’s mine. I bought her.” She pointed her finger at me. “You… I’ve already called the Swarms… already called the police.”
“Get out of the road,” Daniel yelled.
“Don’t do this,” she cried. “Lily is our last chance. She can fix everything. I’ve taught her how.”
“Get out of the road,” Daniel repeated.
She leaned down and looked in the window at me. “Think of all our hard work, Lily. Think of all the things you’ve studied and practiced. All the hours we’ve poured into you. Think of how I’ve helped you. You don’t cry for whiskey anymore because of me. Think of your mother. Think of how you can help her. Get out of the car, Lily. Get out of the car and keep the promise. I’ll forgive you, if you’ll just get out of the car.”
“Don’t, Mother,” Bethie said.
“They’re coming for you,” the old woman hissed at me. “I’ll make certain of it. The Swarms will come for you. Get out of the car and I’ll stop them again. Get out of the car, Lily!”
I took a deep breath, put my hand on the doorknob to pull it, and thought of you. I thought of you in prison, wanting me but needing Lily. I thought of you on the day I was born and how you cried, Wait. And then I thought of you, and the choice that you made once, the man that you trusted. I thought of you, and who you’d want me to pick. Who you’d tell me to pick, in all your mother’s wisdom.
“Go,” I whispered to Daniel. “Go.”
III
Daniel reversed the car and steered into a ditch. The car jerked and threw me back into the seat. As he pulled up onto the road again, I saw that the old woman was behind us. I could hear her screaming long after the darkness swallowed her.
Daniel drove to Bethie’s house.
“I should come with you,” she said.
“You’ve got the new baby to look after. We’ll be fine.”
“You think Mother really called the cops?” she asked, as she stepped out of the car.
I answered before he could. “Yeah. I’m sure she did.”
“I’ll get to the bottom of everything,” Daniel said to Bethie. “Don’t worry. She’s safe.”
Bethie looked back at me one last time. “I’m sorry,” she said.
I didn’t answer, but my eyes must have asked, What for?
“For everything my family’s done,” she said. “I would have loved to watch you grow up.”
She went inside and Daniel looked back at me. “You wanna move up front?” he asked. I shook my head. He started the car again. We were driving down the mountain now. Even though the darkness hid it well, I could feel us sinking low.
“So,” he said. “Why’d she call the cops?”
I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders.
“She lies a lot, that old woman,” he said. “But if there’s anything to it, if you’re in some kind of trouble, I can help. It’s kind of what I do.”
I shook my head again, stared out the window. “I’m in bigger trouble than you can fix.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” He laughed dryly. “What’d you do? Kill somebody?”
“No.”
“Nearly kill somebody?”
“No.”
“Oh, please,” he said, and laughed again. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap anybody’s baby. ’Cause that one actually is hard to fix.”
“I burned my home down. Black Snake trailer. And on accident, half the farm went with it.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Who was with you?”
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean, where were your parents? At work? At church? Did they know what you planned?”
“They’d runned off.”
“Without you?”
I nodded.
“Were they coming back for you?”
I shook my head. And fought the tears that wanted to escape. It was wrong of them, he told me with that look of his.
“They weren’t a preacher’s family, like they were supposed to be, were they?” he asked lowly.
I shook my head. “Momma cleaned for the preacher’s wife. Old woman paid her to take me.”
“Mercy,” he whispered to the window. “Hannah was right.”
We drove in silence the rest of the way. The car slowed and Daniel turned down a long paved drive. “This is it,” he said.
It was a clear night the first time I saw your house. Stars, all of them, sat right on top of it to light the way. To lead me to your farmhouse, a big one, like all farmhouses should be. Daniel started talking to me about burning Black Snake trailer. About how he could handle it.
<
br /> I wasn’t really listening. I was busy looking at your house. I was thinking about what it was going to feel like to step inside it. Finally. I was thinking about what Momma and Daddy would have said, if they could’ve seen me.
Daddy would have said he felt like saluting, the way he was taught the month he was in the army. Momma would say she felt like praying, the way the preacher did over Grandma’s grave. Janie would mumble a cussword for me, because for her that’s as big as it gets. And me. What would I have said all those years ago, all those hot days out under the sycamore? If I had known one day I’d make it inside the big house? Your big house. I’d say it was the end. I’d say I’d reached the heaven preached at Grandma’s grave. I’d say, Let me in.
“It’s only a few hours till morning,” Daniel said. “I’ll take you to the guest room and you can rest. We’ll figure everything out after you’ve slept some.”
I nodded and followed him. I saw the way you arranged your furniture. With the couches laid out in perfect lines. I saw the way you hung pictures of the desert down the hallway walls. I saw the paint colors you chose. How you painted your ceilings a different shade than the rest of the room. I saw the pretty curtains you hung in your windows, the way they let in just enough starlight. I lay across a bed that you picked out, covered in sheets and blankets that you shopped for. I went to sleep in your nice house. Its details, all of them chosen by you, surrounded me.
I woke up to a knock at the door. I blinked my eyes, sat up quickly, as the memory of the night before returned to me.
“Lily,” he said. “If you wanna wake up, I’ve made some lunch downstairs. Bethie’s gonna come over later this afternoon.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Downstairs I sat at a table across from him. He had made ham sandwiches, cokes, and chips. We ate in silence. Then he pushed his plate back and sighed.
“What do you wanna do?” he asked me.
“I don’t know. I came here to find my mother. She’s in a prison for crazy people. And she doesn’t need me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The old woman told me my story would hurt her more.”
The Memory Thief Page 30