They got up late, had a leisurely breakfast, then Sam left for the office. Maud had the day off, and she and Emma planned to spend their time getting to know one another, again.
Sam arrived at his office, unannounced. Maureen was typing something. Donny had his feet up on the sheriff's desk, and was staring off into space.
"Morning, Maureen. Donny." Donny's feet came down, quickly. "Everything okay this morning?"
"All quiet, so far," said Maureen. "We didn't know you were back. Will you be around for a while, now?"
"Got in yesterday afternoon. Yeah, I should be around for a while. Thanks to you two for holding down the fort for so long. How's the police business, Donny?"
Sam talking to Maureen had given Donny a moment to become "official." "Nothing big, boss. Just the usual."
"Good. Maureen, would you get hold of a Sheriff McKibbon - Harry McKibbon - in Kingdom, North Dakota. Kingdom, like in 'Kingdom come.' If he's available, I'd like to talk to him. If not, would you leave a message for him to call me at his convenience? No hurry. Thanks."
He went into his office, and closed the door. Maureen buzzed him in just a few minutes, said Sheriff McKibbon was on the line. "Morning, Harry. Sam DeGheyn in Maryland. How's life in North Dakota?"
"Sam? Good to hear from you. You made it back to your home state, okay. Were you able to find what you were looking for?"
"I did. Brought her back with me - well, I guess I brought them both back with me. Andi Oliver, and Emma Graham."
"So, she knows who she is, finally? That's great."
"Well, she sorta knows who she is. The memories are slow coming back, and she's still as much Andi as she is Emma, but she's coming around. I'm sure she's going to want to get in touch with you, Jim Purley, and the others when she gets a little more settled.
"Say, other than letting you know I found her and she's all right, I was wondering if you'd turned up anything more on that Wayans business. That still seems to be a real puzzle. Who the hell was he, and was he really after her?"
"We've found out a little. He had a police record - nothing real criminal, a bar fight and a DUI. He did get locked up for a couple of days. Name was Joe - Joseph Wayans - lived in Idaho Falls for ten years or so. No obvious family there, worked construction and various odd jobs. Lots of people remembered him, but he didn't seem to be much of a joiner, or have any really close friends. Nothing to connect him to Andi, except that he lived not far from the diner where she worked. He might have met her - or, at least, seen her there."
"Well, I guess it helps to know who he was, but I can't see why, just yet. I've known Emma - Andi - since she was ten or eleven years old. She was never out of this place or Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, until she got on a bus - age sixteen - headed for California, two years ago. Whatever caused her amnesia happened in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where she got off the bus for the day. It couldn't have been more than a month or so before she was in Idaho Falls. There was just no way for this Wayans to have known her - or even seen her - before then."
"I have a theory - well, two theories," said Harry, "Although I think one is much better than the other. One is mistaken identity. He saw her in the diner, and thought she could be somebody else. The problem with that one is that she might have been mistaken for a few years older than sixteen, but not many, and there can't be many women around with her looks. It doesn't leave a lot of room for him to be involved with her. Since he's been in Idaho Falls for quite a few years, you'd think anybody he had been involved with would have been local.
"Well, the second option is the one I favor. He kept seeing her at the diner, and established a fixation on her. Pretty girl, probably nice to him as his waitress. That might explain why he was keeping track of her, but wasn't in any hurry to actually meet her, after she left Idaho."
"That sounds pretty good, as far as it goes," Sam replied. "But why is he suddenly seeking information from her, information that he needs so bad he's willing to kill her livestock to convince her to talk?"
"Yeah, that's hard to explain, but don't a lot of stalkers eventually make up some reason that they're stalking? They might really even get to the point where they believe their reasons. One thing that makes me think it was a delusion was the slaughterhouse fire. Do you know about that?"
"No, I guess not."
"Well, during this period when Andi was making Klaven's - that's the pig farm - upset with her, and after she had started talking about hiring a lawyer, the slaughterhouse that she had visited not long before burned down - obviously arson. Klavan's even brought up her name as a suspect - and I'm not sure it would have been beyond her, at that time! - but she had an iron-clad alibi. It turns out that Wayans set the fire - as a 'favor' for Andi - thinking that she would do him a favor in return, by giving him the info he wanted. Now, that sounds pretty delusional, to me - the kind of thing his mind might have invented, to make it seem like he and Andi were conspiring about something."
"Yeah, that does seem pretty far over the top, and not something that fits in with somebody really looking for important information. More a game, with some serious aspects."
"Wayans getting shot still bothers me, Sam. Something just doesn't fit."
"You don't think that the sniper hired by Klavan's to kill Andi missed and got Wayans, instead? The miss must have only been by a few inches. Besides, with either of your theories, a sniper after Wayans doesn't fit, does it?"
"No, but my understanding is that those types of sniper assassins get hired because they don't miss by inches, or any other way."
"But I think you said - or Andi said - that she lunged at Wayans to keep him from killing the donkey, just as Wayans got shot. Couldn't her lunge have thrown the sniper off, or maybe he saw her moving forward and tried to plan his shot to take that into account ?"
There was a momentary pause on the line. "I guess either's possible, but I just have this feeling that there's something more involved here. I guess that doesn't sound like well thought out police work."
"On the contrary, I've had those kinds of hunches, too, and they sometimes pay off. Don't turn in your sheriff's badge just yet.
"Say, it's good to talk to you. I wish we'd had more time to talk sheriff-talk, but we both had other things on our minds. I really do think that Emma - Andi - will want to get in touch with you guys before long. It's been a pretty strange two years for her, but I think there are parts of it that she'll want to remember, gladly."
"Well, she can be a pain in the ass, but I know a bunch of guys - me, included - who enjoyed her presence very much."
After ending the call, Sam went back out into the front office. "Thanks, Maureen, that worked out well. Donny, you got anything major going this morning?"
"Nothing specific, boss. You need something?"
"I need to turn in my rental truck in Hebrides. If you want to follow me over and pick me up, we can discuss some business on the way back. Maureen, I don't think anybody but Maud knows I'm back in town, so I guess just business as usual, until we get back. We shouldn't be gone more than a couple hours."
The truck rental business in Hebrides took only a few minutes, then Sam and Donny started back to LaPorte. "So, nothing particularly noteworthy happening in the sheriff-world?" Sam enquired.
"Not really. I helped the fire department with a couple of near-drownings at the lake. Both came out okay. One water sports accident was a little more severe. A girl crashed one of those jet ski things, and broke her arm. She was okay, otherwise.
"Let's see. I helped the state troopers with a few speed traps out here on the Hebrides highway. We caught quite a few people driving well over the limit. Well, we entertained some of our local drunks overnight on occasion, when they were causing a little trouble in a bar or on the street.
"I can't think of anything else. School will be starting pretty soon, so our summer folks will start to scatter. That should quiet things down even more.
"So, Sam, what about your business. Did you get that finished up?"
"I did. I found Emma, and brought her home with me."
"Well, that's good."
"It will be. Things are a little confused. Emma has had complete amnesia - I mean, she didn't have a clue as to who she is, or where she came from. She made up a new identity or herself, just because she needed to be somebody! She's just been wandering for almost two years.
"The thing is, she's just starting to get her 'Emma' memories back, so she's kind of two people right now. It's going to be hard to keep the publicity in check once people learn that she's back, but it's going to be a lot better for her if she can regain her memories at her own speed. For you and me and Maureen, I'd like to keep it sort of 'police business,' and say as little as possible. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Well, I'll talk to Maureen, too. The word is going to get out - no way to stop it - but I'd like it not to be us that tells any of the details, for a while at least."
Back at the office, Sam did have a similar talk with Maureen. He hoped they wouldn't be giving out much information. Maureen would be okay, but he knew that Donny had a hard time not talking about "secrets." Well, all they could do is play it by ear.
***
Maud and Emma were taking the day slow, not getting too deeply into the past, present, or future. Emma found Maud a relaxing companion, as she didn't need to know anything right away. It was Emma who eventually brought up more serious matters.
"Sam and I talked about the best way to get my memory back, and it seems to me he's right - that we should just take our time, and let it happen as naturally as possible. Now that I'm back in town, that's going to be harder. People are going to want to know where I've been, and what I've been doing. I certainly don't want to suddenly be the 'girl with amnesia.' If the newspapers got hold of that, it could turn into a widespread story."
"Well, one good thing is that Sam has kept that aspect really quiet. Not many people know anything about it. Sam's doings have seemed mysterious, of course, but he's kept the details down to the minimum."
"That's good, and will help us manage the story a little better. I've had one idea along those lines that I want to discuss with you, and with Sam. You want to hear it?"
"Of course."
"I was thinking that the best way to control the story might be if I wrote it myself. You remember that Mr. Gumbrel let me write some articles for the 'Conservative' about the Devereau business? If I appealed to his newspaper instincts for an exclusive story of my adventures - told over six weeks, or something - maybe he'd let me tell it my way, and let me control just how much or how little got out. I'm thinking that I might tell him the true story - most of it, anyway - but then write it up as if it was about somebody I met while I was wandering around the West. Some people might know enough to guess it was actually about me, but most would read it as just an interesting story. Having some other girl be the amnesiac would free me from having to play that role, and having a lot of follow-up questions.
"What do you think?"
"I think it might work very well. You might even write Abner's introduction for him. You could do something like, 'You may have noticed that Emma Graham is back in town, after a two year absence. She's had some interesting adventures, and has agreed to write - exclusively for readers of the 'Conservative' - a series of articles on things she's seen and learned.' That would probably heat up the 'Conservative' readership, which Abner would like very much, I'm sure."
"Okay, let's talk to Sam this evening, and maybe I'll go over to the paper, tomorrow."
They did talk to Sam that evening, and he liked the plan. Also, he told them what he had learned from Harry McKibbon about the mysterious Joe Wayans. He described Harry's theory that Wayans may just have been a weird stalker, who fixated on her after seeing her at work in Idaho Falls.
"That makes a certain amount of sense," Emma said. "At least, it makes some sense, when nothing else about him has. I'm not sure it makes me feel any better."
"No, I imagine not. I'm sure Harry will pursue any other leads he gets."
The three of them had a companionable dinner together, then Sam went home. That surprised and worried Maud a little bit. Everything had seemed okay between them, so she had been expecting another night together, or at least some serious talk. She was used to sleeping alone, but somehow the bed seemed especially empty that night.
***
When Maud walked to work next morning, Emma went with her. Emma left her at the newspaper office, and managed to get inside without seeing anyone to talk to.
"If you should see Sam in a couple hours, you might ask him to pick me up over at the garage. I think I'm ready to see Dwayne. If Sam doesn't show up, I'll walk back over and meet you at work."
Abner Gumbrel was at his desk. He glanced up and smiled at her, but his brain needed a moment to recognize who he was looking at. Then, his smile got broader.
"Emma Graham! What an amazing - and welcome - surprise!" He stood up, came over to her and gave her a brief, but warm, hug, and invited her to sit down. "I had no idea you were back in town."
"I just came in with Sam a day ago, and have been taking a little time to get up to speed with him and Maud. This is my first time in town since I got back. How have you been?"
"Pretty fair, Emma, pretty fair. Just trying to keep the news flowing through the community."
"Good. That's actually what I want to talk to you about. How much do you know about where I've been these past two years?"
Gumbrel gave her a speculative look. "Not as much as I think I'd like to know. I know you've been out West, and that Sam has made some long trips to see you, but he's been pretty close-mouthed about details. I've had my suspicions that there was quite a bit more to the story."
"That shows you're a good newspaper man. There is a lot to tell. The fact that you are a good newspaper man, and are always eager for new stories and interesting facts, poses a little problem for me. I want to tell you everything - nothing left out - but I don't want it all to become 'news,' if you understand what I'm saying. I have a deal to offer you that I don't think will offend your editorial integrity, and will give you and your readers quite a scoop. Are you interested?"
He gave a little laugh. "The way you've presented it, how could I not be interested? What's the deal?"
Emma took a moment to prepare. "Okay. I'm a little scared, but here goes. Just after I left here two years ago, I was kidnapped and raped."
"Emma!"
"Yeah, nothing like jumping right in, right? Well, I still don't know exactly what happened. Apparently, I had been drugged. I woke up alone in a motel room, but one that a man had obviously been sharing with me. His belongings were still there. I walked over to the motel office, and the woman there told me that my 'daddy' had gone into town, but would be back shortly. I went back to the room, and thought about that.
"What I haven't told you is that I really didn't have anything to think about. I mean, I should have, but I had no idea how I came to be in that motel, and I had no idea who 'Daddy' was. More importantly, I had absolutely no idea who I was - my name, where I came from, my history - I couldn't remember one thing personal!"
"You mean, amnesia?"
She nodded. "Completely, as far as my personal life was concerned. The background stuff - at least, some of it - was okay - I knew what a dog or a cow was, remembered some songs, and poems, and stories - that kind of stuff. But place names, people's names - my name! - absolutely nothing. I didn't even know what state I was in at that moment."
"Did you tell the motel manager? Did you go to the police?"
"No, to both. I didn't know what to do. I don't know how one can explain amnesia to anybody who hasn't suffered it. I was just completely adrift, didn't have anything to latch on to. 'Daddy' was supposed to be back soon, and the one thing I knew is that I didn't want to be there when he returned.
"The only thing of mine in the room was a backpack, with a few clothes and personal items. I hunted in it for a wallet, or something to identify me, but there was nothing. Finally, I grabbed the backpack, took a man's jacket that was in the room - which turned out to have a lot of money in one of its pockets - and left the motel as quietly as I could.
"My biggest fear at that time, I guess, was that 'Daddy' would find me, again. I had no idea what he looked like, and I guess that was why I didn't go to the police. I was just so disoriented, all I could think about was getting away. I was in some kind of valley area, but there were some mountains in the distance, and I just started walking toward them. It must have been close to ten miles. I had the presence of mind to stop at a little market and get some food, but then I just kept walking. It was winter, so as I got near the mountains, I was walking in the snow. I found a deserted cabin - probably someone's summer vacation place - and moved in. I stayed there by myself for about three months."
She paused, and gave Mr. Gumbrel a little smile. He was staring at her, open-mouthed. "My god, Emma, three months by yourself in the snow?"
She went on to tell him about the coyote rescue - she knew that would be a winner with his readers - then described the rest of her odyssey. She left out any mention of Harry Wine or the Wayans business - she didn't want anything in print that might open either of those subjects to more scrutiny - but otherwise told things as they had happened.
"When Sam eventually caught up with me, I had no idea who he was, and still no idea who I was. He didn't tell me who I was, because he didn't know how it would affect me, to get that news all at once. We traveled together a couple of days before I began to suspect that our meeting up hadn't been a coincidence. I had started to remember a few little things, and I finally confronted him with my suspicion that he knew something he wasn't telling me. That's when I started to become Emma Graham, again.
"My memory is still pretty spotty and, in some ways, I'm still more the amnesiac than I am Emma. I'm getting better, but I think it's going to be best if I let the memories come back as naturally as possible, and not suddenly be forced into some big discussions of the last two years. That's where my proposed deal with you comes in."
"Well, you certainly have my attention."
"Okay, here's my idea. I write the story for the paper in five or six installments, with all the details - more than I've given you today. My written story will be exclusively for the 'Conservative.' If you want to share it, fine. If somebody else picks up the story, I might give interviews, but I won't write anything for any other news source.
"The 'catch' - if you might want to call it that - is I want to write the story as if it is somebody else's. I want to talk about amnesia, and the strangeness of the situation, but I don't want it to be my amnesia. I think that would take over the whole story, and might get in the way of my normal return of Emma memories. I won't take that chance. If you don’t want to do it my way, then you have my permission to use what I've given you already, any way you want."
Gumbrel didn't say anything right away, and Emma wasn't sure if he was looking at her, or through her, somewhere in his own thoughts.
"Problems?"
He snapped out of it. "Nope. I like it. I actually think you might be able to tell a fuller, richer story if it's not about you - so to speak. How a person lives with amnesia is obviously going to capture a lot of the attention, but we have coyotes, pig farms, a travelogue, etc., etc., etc. It could be a real hit."
"Well, you know I could write pretty well when I was 12 years old. I think I can write a bit better now, and probably be a lot better at meeting your deadlines. And we're not going to be lying to anyone. Some people will know for sure it's my story. It won't be hard for others to guess. That's okay. For most people, it's just going to be a really good public interest story."
"I think we have a deal. Do you want to get paid?"
She grinned. "I will gladly accept whatever it's worth to you, but I'm approaching you with a freebie, if that's best for you."
"No, Emma, you're definitely worth a commission. When do you want to start?"
"Maybe give me a week or two. You'll probably want to advertise ahead of time. With that in mind, Maud and I put together a few notes last night. You're the editor, but we didn't think it would hurt to write down some thoughts."
"You got 'em there? Let me read what you have." Emma gave him a sheet of paper, and he read what they had written.
"You may have seen a somewhat familiar face around town, lately. That's Emma Graham, back from two years of traveling in the West. You folks who have been in town for a while will recall that Emma is the daughter of the late Jen Graham, proprietor of the Hotel Paradise and one of the best cooks - both meals and desserts - in the county. Emma's also known to readers of the 'Conservative' for a series of articles she wrote when she was 12 years old, covering her investigations into a series of local murders that date back 40 years. You may recall that looking into one of those murders almost cost her own life, when the deranged killer tried to add her to the list. She was saved at the very last minute by a friend.
"Starting in about two weeks, Emma will be rejoining the 'Conservative' with a series of articles on her adventures of the past two years. I've had a sneak preview, and there's something for everybody here. And a special note: The first time these stories appear in print, they will be exclusively for readers of the 'Conservative.' Watch this space for more details."
"That's a good approach, Emma. I think I'll use quite a bit of it. One comment: Your mom wasn't one of the best cooks in the county. She was by far the best!"
"I know, but I didn't want to put you on the spot, choosing among some of the local restaurants."
***
After leaving the newspaper office, Emma walked a few more blocks to Abel Slaw's - well, now, Dwayne Hayden's garage. She saw him as soon as she opened the door.
"I recognize the grease rag hanging out of your back pocket. Let's see if I remember your face."
Dwayne turned when he heard the voice, just stared for a moment, then got a big smile on his face. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."
"I do remember you, Dwayne."
"God, I would hope so! Emma, you can't just waltz in here, looking like I knew you would look at this age, making both my head and my heart ache. I want to grab you in my arms and hold you and kiss you..."
He had started to walk toward him, but she held out her hand to stop him. "Before we do any of that, we need to talk about some things. Can we do that, now?"
He stopped, looking more than a little confused. "Sure, I guess. Want to go in my office? Or maybe you could perch up on top of that pile of tires, like you used to do. Abel can't chase you off, anymore."
"Can we go outside, maybe sit on the wall?"
He led the way, and found a place on the cinder block wall that marked one boundary of his property. She sat a few feet away from him.
"So, you own this place, now?"
"Well, me and the bank. I like being the boss, so far."
She gave him a little smile, but her feelings were all mixed up. She didn't know how to begin with him "What do you know about where I've been?"
He couldn't take his eyes off her. "I know you disappeared, and that Sam has been looking for you out West. Obviously, he found you."
"Dwayne, I've had amnesia for two years. I couldn't remember anything about who I was, where I came from, or about anything from my past life. I was kidnapped and raped. I got away, but didn't know anything else. I invented a new person - Andi Oliver - because I didn't have any old person. I've been Andi, not Emma, for the last two years."
"Jesus, Em! You were... Oh, Christ!" He just stared at her for a moment, fighting to get himself back under control. "I feel like I would like to kill the man who did that to you."
"He's already dead." She didn't say any more.
"Good," he said. He was at a loss for words for a moment. "So, are you...? Do you have all your memory back, now?"
"No. It's only been about a week since I started to remember. I'm still more Andi, than I am Emma. You might like to know that you were one of the first names I remembered, so I really wanted to see you in person."
"And you knew me, right off?"
"Well, the grease rag first, then I saw your face, and really knew who you were."
His smile was broad and sincere. "That makes me feel very good."
They looked at each other, in kind of an awkward, frozen moment. "Gin joint," she repeated. "I remember you saying that to me many years ago. Is that from Billy Faulkner?"
"Faulkner? You remembered?"
"Sure. 'The past is never dead. It isn't even past.''
"Wow. Well, two things: I don't think you should call him Billy. I've developed a special relationship with him over the years. For a while, I think you should address him at 'Mr. Faulkner,' or at least as 'William.'"
"I stand corrected. What was the other thing?"
"Oh, it wasn't Faulkner who talked about gin joints. It was Rick Blaine - well, Humphrey Bogart playing Rick Blaine - and it's what he said when his long-lost former lover, Ilsa Lund - Ingrid Bergman, in the movie - walked into his nightclub. When I turned and saw you, like Rick I was astonished to see my own former... well, obviously not 'lover,' but long-lost friend." He ended it a little lamely, he thought.
"Well, I think it was a nice thought for you to have." There was that awkward pause, again. She assumed it was partly because she didn't really remember him very well, but she also realized that - when they knew each other before - she had been a little girl. Right then, he wasn't looking at her like he might have looked at his former "little friend."
She stood up. "Well, I really wanted to see you, right away. Sam and Maud and I have been talking about how to sort of reintroduce me to the town. We can't keep people from finding out, but we don't think it will help me recover my memory at a nice, steady pace if people are eager to see and talk about the poor amnesiac girl."
He couldn't stop staring at her. "Yeah, I can see your point. I won't tell anyone - or, at least, I won't blab it around. If somebody asks me... Well, we'll play that by ear. Emma..." He paused. "I know that it's probably too soon, but I would love to hug you right now. Could we do that?"
She was standing only a few feet from him, but she seemed frozen in place.
"I promise it will be a very impersonal hug - kind of brotherly, certainly gentlemanly. Could we? I'll understand if..."
She moved into his arms, and he held her close - but not too close - for a few moments. She was a little stiff against him, but she still felt awfully good to him.
"Have you ever hugged me, before?" she asked, against his chest.
"How could I? You were jail bait. It would have been very improper."
"Jail bait?" She didn't try to move away.
"Old men - especially old men who might be developing certain feelings - do not hug school girls. This is our very first."
"It's nice. I like it." she said. "Considering what you said when you first saw me, would you say that this was meant to be a romantic hug, or just a 'I'm glad to see my old friend' hug?"
"I'm not sure. My emotions are mixed."
Now, she moved away from him. "Well, thank you, whichever it was."
He continued to look at her, almost pleadingly. "If the hug was maybe a little too soon, I know what I'm proposing next is way, way too soon, and way over the top. I'm going to ask, anyway. Could we kiss? It won't be brotherly, but I will keep it gentlemanly. I've wanted to kiss you for a lot longer than I've had any right to want to."
She was still standing in the same place, looking at him. "Do you know that I have never kissed a man - never kissed a boy?" She made a little sound. "I'm surely not the only girl in the world to have been raped before she was kissed, but it doesn't sound right, does it?"
"You've never kissed a man? Emma, if they knew you were around, there would be young men lined up around the block, wanting to share. It probably isn't fair for an old guy like me to want to be the one to share your first, but I do want to."
She got kind of a funny, half-smile on her face. "You're older than me, right? I'm pretty sure you once told me you were in your forties, but I don't believe it."
He laughed. "Well, I may have exaggerated the age difference, but I am quite a bit older. Isn't that obvious?"
"Well, I just want to be sure. Sam thinks I am especially attracted to older men. I wouldn't want to waste my time on you if you were too young for me."
"Does that mean yes?"
"I think so. Remember, I don't know much about it."
He pulled her close, so that their faces were almost touching. He leaned forward until their lips barely met. "Can you relax your face just a little bit - part your lips just a fraction of an inch? That's good." He applied just a little bit of pressure, and felt her lips both relax and also move toward his. They stayed that way maybe 20 seconds, then he backed away. "Thank you, Em. That was worth waiting for."
Just then, Sam's sheriff's car pulled up to the garage. "My god, Emma, it was just a little kiss. You didn't need to call the cops!"
She laughed, turned away, and waved to Sam, as he got out of the car. "It's just my ride, silly. If I had called, it would have been to apprehend a poacher, not a kisser."
Sam just stood by the car and waited. "Thanks for finding her, Sam," Dwayne called. "My greatest pleasure," Sam replied.
***
"So, you got to see Dwayne," Sam commented, as they drove away.
"Yes, it was a nice start, getting to know one another, again. Well, he knew me. It was me that needed to get to know him, again."
"It looked like you were getting to know him pretty close, there."
"Sam!" She giggled. "Yes, I guess we were pretty close. We hugged. Do you know that, in all the years I've known him, he said we'd never hugged."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"It doesn't? Why? I've known him since I was 12 years old."
Sam didn't answer right away. "Em, you've always had a way with older men. You've had quite a string of them, sometimes helping you get into trouble and sometimes helping you get out of trouble. Dwayne wasn't as much older than you as the others have been, and if you'd been - say, 18 - the age difference probably wouldn't have mattered, at all. But you were 12."
She looked at his profile, where he sat across the seat from her. She was puzzled. "So, I've known him since I was 12, and he hasn't hugged me, because...?"
"Because he wanted to, too much."
She thought about that the rest of the way to Maud's.
***
Sam dropped her off at Maud's, and returned to work. Emma took a few minutes to change and freshen up, but then decided she might as well start working on her first newspaper column.
"Can you imagine," she wrote, "Not knowing who you are - not knowing your name, how old you are, where you live, your parents' names, whether or not you have sisters or brothers, if you are married, if you have children of your own, if you have a special boyfriend or girlfriend, if you have any pets... In short, when you ask yourself any of those questions, do you get as an answer- nothing?
"That's a description of amnesia. Well, it's a list of symptoms. I doubt that anyone who hasn't experienced their own amnesia can really describe what it's like. It has to be something outside of normal human comprehension."
With that beginning, she went on to describe (anonymously) the first days of the new-born "Andi Olivier."
***
Maud came home from work, gave Emma a hug, then changed from work clothes to baggy sweatshirt and pants. Emma found herself looking at her in a new light. Although she must have been close to 50, Maud seemed like a young girl that afternoon - pretty, active, vibrant, full of excitement.
"Sam is bringing pizza. Let's make a big salad to go with it."
They chopped and chatted away, Emma saving the talk with Abner Gumbrel until Sam got there, but telling Maud about her visit with Dwayne. She was just getting to her questions about hugging when Sam arrived. That discussion got set aside for a pizza "with everything," a tossed salad, and a bold red wine. (The wine was illegal for Emma, but Sheriff Sam seemed to forget that.)
After dinner, they talked about Emma's meeting at the newspaper office, and both Maud and Sam read the draft story she had been working on. All three were in agreement that they were on the right track.
Emma left the room at one point. "Is there room in your bed for a visitor, tonight?" Sam asked, quietly.
Maud looked him over. "Have you given really, really serious consideration to what I said about that?"
"I have, but it's got me in a legal problem. I am now a bigamist, married to two women at the same time. For one of those marriages, I have a signed certificate. For the other, I don't. I am choosing to honor the one sans certificate, and will divest myself of the other just as soon as I can."
"That sounds okay. So, yes, there will always be room in our bed."
"Great! There is one other problem, though."
"What problem?"
"I didn't bring any pajamas with me."
Maud gave him a smile. "I won't peek." She paused a moment. "Well, let's start out that way. I could change my mind, later."
"That seems fair."
Emma came back in the room. "I have something else I want to talk about. Are you guys up for a long discussion?"
Maud and Sam both automatically looked toward the bedroom door, but said sure. It was fine.
"Okay. Well, my memories are coming back faster than they were - I guess just being in the familiar environment is the reason. But I'm still kind of lost between age 12 and age 16. It isn't a blank - I'm remembering a lot of things - but I can't get the chronology fixed in my mind. Can you guys help me with a time line?"
"Sure," said Sam, "We can take a crack at it. Well, age 12 of course was the year of the murders - almost including your own, you may remember?"
"Yes, I do remember that summer, pretty vividly. I also remember that you and I were not exactly on speaking terms when I left for school. Were we okay when I got back the next spring?"
Sam thought a few moments. "I think so. You still weren't entirely happy with my police work, and I was still having trouble with your risk-taking and maybe withholding evidence, but we've been friends a long time, and we'd both grown up another year. We did okay, didn't we, Maud?"
"I would say you were both a little stand-offish at first, but I recall that things normalized pretty quickly."
"That's good. So, what did I do that summer?"
Maud responded. "I don't recall anything particularly special that you did. There were some pretty big events that affected you. One I think you will remember with great glee - when that memory comes back to you - is that Ree-Jane didn't return with her mother, Lola. They decided that La Porte and Spirit Lake were not big enough, or grand enough, to hold the likes of Jane, and she went to stay with some relatives in Philadelphia."
Emma produced a big smile. "I hadn't really thought about Ree-Jane yet but, yes, that must have made for an especially happy summer for me. Did she come back, later?"
"No, I don't think we've seen her since, except maybe briefly during the probate dealings after your mom died. Good riddance!.
"There was one related incident. Your mom and Lola Davidow left you alone for two weeks, while they went off, somewhere. Sam was mad enough to want to throw her in jail for child neglect."
"I would have, too," Sam responded, "If I thought it would do any good, or if the charge would stick. We always talk about what a nice woman your mother was - and she was! - but her neglect of you made me really angry, at times.
"I didn't want to do anything that would disrupt your family any more than it already was, but I knew if I really confronted her, she - and any judge - would just point out that you weren't really alone. You had your older brother with you - useless, I know, but appearances are what would count. You also had the hotel staff, and - really stretching the idea of 'support' - you even had your great aunt Aurora there! All Maud and I could really do is be there for you in any way we could."
Maud picked up the conversation. "That was part of the reason we started talking to you about staying in La Porte all year, and going to high school here."
"You thought about me staying here through the winter?"
"Well, from what we understood, all you did in Pittsburgh was stay in a hotel, and go to school. I don't know how your mother spent her time, but it sounded like very little of it had to do with you. Sam and I got to thinking that, if you lived with me through the winter, you could go to school, and get involved in school activities in a way you couldn't in Pittsburgh.
"You seemed to like the idea, so I started talking to your mother about it. We didn't know each other very well - she wasn't the type to hang out at Shirl's, even if she wasn't fully involved at the hotel - but as soon as she understood that you liked the idea, and that you could stay with me, she just said okay. I guess your brother had been staying with the Conroys, and going to school for a couple of years, so it wasn't an entirely new idea to her."
"I don't know how much Will and Mill actually got to school, but that was the idea. So, that's what happened with you and me?"
"Yep, for the next two years, you stayed here with me through the winter. I noticed you went right to your room the first day you got here, so I guessed you remembered that, all right."
"I remembered the room. I didn't remember why I remembered it, so well. I'm glad that happened."
"Me, too. We had a good time. One thing we did pretty regularly was go over to the hotel, to look in on your Aunt Aurora. I know your mother left her there alone every winter, depending on the family services people to bring her meals. She'd always been able to do quite a bit for herself, if she wanted to, but she was getting pretty frail. She didn't really like anybody but you, but she got used to me coming along, and we actually had some good visits."
"She only liked me because I brought her liquor to her."
That got Sam's attention. "You were serving liquor? I really would have run in Jen if I'd known that."
"Well, Sam," said Maud, "There's nobody to arrest anymore, so just forget that part of the story. But, Emma, you're wrong about Aurora only liking you for your cocktail service. I mean, she left everything she had to you, including her share of the hotel."
"She did what?"
"In her will, you were the only person named. She left you everything. It was all to you, personally, not in trust of anyone else. For a while, you owned a bigger share of the hotel than your dad had inherited."
"My god, I don't remember any of that!"
"Well, everything was happening at once. Aurora passed away, and there was quite a bit to do about that. It was only a few months later that your mom was diagnosed with cancer. It was a very fast-moving type, and she barely had time to get her affairs in some kind of order before she was gone. You, poor child, were in pretty bad shape. It was all happening so fast.
"Your mom had almost no assets, except her share of the hotel. What little bank account she had was split three ways, between you, Will, and Lola. That wouldn't last long, and the only way to get more for you and Will, and to repay Lola's loan, was to sell the hotel."
Sam took over. "That was a major undertaking in itself. You and I talked about ownership of the hotel a time or two. I don't know if you remember. Anyway, I forget which of your ancestors made the will that divided up the hotel among various family members, but it was crazy. I guess it was because of some big family split - you not knowing your mother had a sister and you have an aunt in California came about because of the split, whatever it was. Anyway, your dad got partial ownership and the proprietorship, but there were little pieces scattered everywhere. Aurora and her sister had the biggest share, I think. When your mom's probate came about, the deed to the hotel mentioned all kinds of people. It turned out that most of them were deceased, with only a few living heirs, but it took a long time to sort it all out. When the court finally allowed the hotel to be put up for sale, it went pretty rapidly - not for the hotel itself, but for all the acreage that went with it. When it was all over, Lola got all her investment back, plus good interest. She left the area, I don't know for where. Will and you split the money from your mother's share, plus you had all of Aurora's. Your bank account is quite substantial. We were just starting to help you think about investments when you left for California, so the money's just sitting there, earning interest."
Emma didn't say anything, and was looking a little frantic or bewildered. "That was probably too much catching up to do all at one time," Sam observed. "Are you okay?"
"I think so. As you said, that's a lot to catch up on.”
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