Dear Evie: The Lost Memories of a Lost Child (4 page)

“Hurry, Evie,” the woman said while attempting a smile, “he’ll be home soon, and we need to be sure things are the way he likes it. We don’t want to make him mad, now do we, baby girl?” Evie looked up from her work and shook her head slowly and timidly.

She was wearing the same green dress she wore in the vision, but it was clean and looked freshly pressed. She did not tell me so, but I knew Evie loved the little dress and had worn it to school. Why had I never heard her speak in my dreams? She would look at me, and it was as if we could communicate with each other in our minds, but I never heard a verbal response from her.

As the little girl and her mama were looking toward each other, there was a loud slam of the front door that made not only both of them jump, but me as well. I was feeling her tension in my own body. I could feel our body shrink into the chair as the fear traveled through us. I had a lump in my throat and felt my eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. I also knew that everything I felt was mirrored in Evie, and I knew every feeling and thought she had.

“Evie don’t you say a word now, baby girl. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?” her mama asked.

That same question had caused my vision earlier. Why did that question cause such a reaction from me and from Evie?

A man entered the room. He was tall and muscular with dark hair and a dark complexion; one that implied he worked outdoors and had darkened from the sun. His eyes were almost black and seemed angry. He looked toward Evie first without smiling, but then approached the woman who still stood at the sink and pushed against her with his body while kissing her neck and whispered something in her ear. Evie’s mother seemed embarrassed and tried to playfully pull away without making him angry. She placed a nervous hand on his chest and reminded him they were not alone. She tried to do it with a smile and a kiss on the cheek to appease him. Evie kept her face down toward her papers on the table.

Who was this man who obviously brought fear to these two? I was feeling the fear along with them, but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know the man. I didn’t know the woman, and, for that matter, I didn’t know Evie; but I felt a great deal of responsibility for her. I felt I had to protect her. Those dreams were not like the dreams I’d experienced my whole life. Those were vivid, detailed and felt as if they were actually happening to me. And when I would wake up, I didn’t forget them the way I usually forgot the details of my normal dreams, if I remembered my dreams at all. Those dreams seemed more like memories, but they were not my memories, they were Evie’s.

The man went to the refrigerator and took out an entire twelve pack of beer, and without a word he went into the next room and turned on the television where he was quickly served his dinner on a tray. The woman seemed relieved, and she and Evie sat down to eat at the little table. Then the dream seemed to fast forward and it was my old dream again. Suddenly the man was furious. He had grabbed Evie by her hair, and as she pulled away, he almost pulled the rubber band completely out of her hair. Then he was holding her by her dress as he was unbuckling his belt. He had her dress balled up in his fist and was holding her up by it while her feet dangled in the air. When her mom came over and tried to reason with the man, he relaxed his grip for just a second and Evie got away.

His anger exploded, and Evie ran barefoot up the stairs, and then down the hall as she had in the beginning of all my dreams of her. She went to the dark bathroom to hide behind the hamper. Again we shook with fear as we saw the shadow come into the little bathroom. This time, however, before the man came into the room, I heard noises from outside of the room. I could hear what I knew was the sound of someone getting slapped hard and falling to the floor. I knew it was the woman from the kitchen. I could feel Evie as she was afraid for her mother and at the same time horrified for what might happen to her next. The man was coming toward the bathroom calling for Evie. Her mama would call out and plead with the man not to hurt her. He would curse and shove her away each time she approached him. He refused to be calmed down. Someone was going to pay for what had happened and that was that.

“Please, she’s just a baby and she didn’t mean to knock the can over.” The man seemed to become more furious when the woman pleaded with him. More than once he returned to her and I could hear another slapping sound and the woman’s cries of pain. I could feel Evie shaking in the floor of the closet, feel her fear. I knew this wasn’t the first time he had hurt her mama, but it was the first time he had come after Evie. The man snapped his belt to announce his intentions and yelled, “Evie, you come out here like a good girl and take your punishment. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

Evie and I both felt sick. We both swallowed hard to keep the sickness down. The fear was like nothing else I had ever experienced. Our bodies shook violently. I watched as the fragile little girl coward deeper into the tiny closet, trying desperately to vanish into the corner out of sight. Our hearts were pounding so hard it hurt our ears from the inside. It was hard to breath, and the tears that were clouding our eyes began to run down our cheeks.

The man returned again to the bathroom door and one last time snapped the belt loudly to announce his intended punishment. As the man placed his hand on the knob of the closet door, it felt as if Evie’s tense muscles released in defeat; and as the acceptance of what she could not stop swept over her, she felt the warm wet puddle begin to form beneath her.

Just as Evie started to wet herself I jerked awake and realized I was about to do the same. I made a dash for the bathroom and managed not to soak my husband, but I did wake him.

“You okay, Kat? You sick or something?”

“No,” I moaned my dreaded confession as I wiped away the tears. “The dream is back. I just managed not to soak you this time.”

Jason came to my side and placed his hand on my back. I knew it was hard for him to understand. I didn’t exactly understand it myself. He was trying to comfort me, and I loved him for it; but it was obvious he was not sure what the right thing to say was. He rubbed my back in support for a few seconds, but we were both feeling a little awkward, so I assured him I was fine and it was nothing to worry about. Once I gave him permission to go back to bed, he gave me a kiss on the top of my head and returned to bed. He lay down and in a matter of seconds drifted back to sleep with the ease of a baby.

“Lucky,” I murmured and took my pad and pen from the bedside table. I went downstairs after looking in on Gracie with the intention of writing down all the details of my dream before I lost any of it. I sat there for an hour staring at the blank piece of paper. The words didn’t want to come to me. My brain was overloaded with questions, and I replayed the dream as if trying to force it to make sense. What exactly did all of it mean? Who was the man who put such fear in the woman and the girl, and why were they with him? I jotted down a few details of the dream, but it just didn’t feel like enough.

I made several attempts to start what I guess was my journal, but it didn’t feel right, so I ripped the pages out. After making a ball out of them, I tossed pages in the fireplace near my chair. I just wasn’t ready to share the details of the dream with Jason. He would think I was really nuts if he knew the terrible things that ran through my mind as I slept next to him. We had never spanked Gracie. I couldn’t even remember raising my voice in anger at her. So why on earth would I dream of a child going through such torment at the hands of a man I assumed was her father? I needed to talk to the little girl somehow. To comfort her and assure her she was not alone. Without really thinking about it, I started to write what I was saying to Evie in my mind. And it felt right.

Dear Evie:

I’m here for you. I seem to feel everything you feel, so I know you are afraid of the man. I am too, but we will get through this together. I don’t know what I can do, but somehow I will find a way to help you. I will protect you, and he won’t hurt you anymore.

Katherine

I sat and examined what I’d written. I’d surprised myself, but I knew it was what I needed to do. I didn’t write down what I needed to remember for Dr. Anna; I knew I would remember every detail of the dream and how I felt during the dream. I’d written the letter so I could communicate with the frightened little girl. I was writing all the details of the dreams down for her. It may have been only a dream, but Evie felt real, and I needed her to know that I acknowledged that the dreams were real… and maybe even that the events had really happened.

I was guessing she was a ghost or something trying to seek help from me, and I was going to give it to her however I could. I wasn’t sure if she was a spirit of a little girl who had died and wanted someone to know what happened to her, or if it was someone who was going through that torture now, and her essence or spirit or whatever you might call it was somehow communicating with me and asking for me to find her and save her.

Yes, I knew how totally insane it all sounded and that I was probably out of my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was up to me to save the child from something horrible. What frightened me the most was that my gut told me I would not be able to keep my promise that he would not hurt her anymore. I felt as if doom hung over her like a dark cloud, and I would not be able to stop what was coming. I knew I would need Dr. Anna to help me find out who she was and how to help her. The next day couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Four

When I arrived at Dr. Anna’s the following morning, I couldn’t wait to share the newest development of my dream: the kitchen scene, and the beating the woman was subjected to before the man came to the bathroom. I knew it would be difficult to explain why I’d written so little in my journal and that what I had written during the past few weeks was addressed to the little girl in my dreams. I knew Dr. Anna was probably expecting several pages, but all I had were a few lines in which I’d told the girl in my dream that I would help her and that somehow I would save the mystery child who lived in my head from an evil figment of a man who may or may not have existed.
Yes, Dr. Anna, I need you.

When I walked into the familiar house, the doctor was descending the stairs with a little girl who looked to be about ten years old. A picture flashed in my mind of a younger Dr. Anna and a different little girl, who looked like an older version of my daughter Gracie. The doctor was holding the child’s hand in one of hers. In her other hand, Dr. Anna held what looked like drawings of some kind. The picture lasted only a few seconds, and then a woman from the living room area met them at the foot of the stairs to take the child from the doctor. Dr. Anna talked with the pair for a few minutes and said her good-byes. The child seemed very fond of Dr. Anna and gave her a big hug before leaving. I know she noticed the way I stared at the child and the look of confusion on my face.

“Are you all right, Katherine? You look a little flushed. Can I get you a glass of water or perhaps ice tea?”

I just stood motionless and looked up those stairs as if waiting for the other child to come down them. Dr. Anna placed her hand on my shoulder, and when I snapped out of my shock, I noticed the look of concern on her face. She patiently waited on my response, and I wanted nothing more than to tell her what had just happened. I needed some answers in a bad way.

“Yes, please,” I finally managed to say. “I would love a glass of water.”

She poured my water and motioned for me to retreat down the hall to her office. I went in and sat in the same chair as before, clutching my water glass as if it were a lifeline. What was with all the flashes I kept having? Now there was another little girl appearing to me. It wasn’t enough that I had started back with the nightmares, but now I was seeing visions of children that were not really there… and in the middle of the day.
I am insane!

“Katherine, would you like to tell me how things have gone since our last visit?”

I realized a full ten minutes had passed while I just sat there staring out into space. Sophie had taken her usual place in my lap without me realizing it; but once I noticed her, the calm she usually brought started to take effect.
You had better get a grip on yourself, Katherine, or she will have you committed,
I thought. I then proceeded to fill her in on all that had taken place, including the lapse of time just after our first visit where all went well, and how I had concluded that Jason was correct in that the dreams were my fear of Gracie going to school. I continued by telling the doctor about the vision that I’d had of the little girl in Gracie’s room, and then again just a few minutes ago on her stairs. But I did not share my theory that it could be a ghost trying to tell me what had happened to her. I was already in doubt of my sanity. I saw no reason to give Dr. Anna more proof.

“Do you have a picture of your little girl with you?”

She seemed to ask the strangest questions at the oddest times. I pulled one from my purse, always eager to show off my pride and joy.

“Yes, I do. This is a picture of her only a few weeks ago on her first day of school.”

Dr. Anna examined it for several minutes before returning it to me.

“She looks just like you did as a child. Well, except for the color of her hair and eyes. You had blond hair and blue eyes when you first came to see me. As you got older, your hair started getting darker, more of a light brown. Didn’t you say the little girl in your dreams looked a lot like Gracie? And that the child who flashed into your mind both at home and here a few minutes ago reminded you of Gracie?”

This woman could make her living playing poker. She asked the question and looked at me, waiting for a response with no clear, readable expectations of what she hoped to hear on her face. What was she getting at with this analogy? Was I supposed to realize that I still held concern for Gracie despite the fact that the child was happier than she had ever been? Was I one of those women who could never let my child grow up and wanted her to need me so desperately I was making up horrible situations. I had no idea what I was supposed to get from her question, so I merely replied with “Yes.”

Why would she dwell so much on Gracie? I no longer felt my dreams or visions were about my daughter, but Dr. Anna must have thought differently.

I decided to ask her a question before she could ask me another one.

“Dr. Anna, if you are a psychiatrist for children, why did you agree to see me?”

She continued to write in the fat folder from my forgotten childhood. After several minutes, she turned another full page and placed her pen at the top to mark her place. Finally she met my gaze and answered my question.

“I often agree to see my former patients once they have reached adulthood. I especially want to see them when they are still struggling with unresolved issues from their childhoods.”

What is she saying? Why would she think I have unresolved issues? What is it about my dreams that would give her the impression I have unresolved issues. The dream had nothing to do with me… Did it?

“That is ridiculous,” I protested. “I don’t even remember my childhood, so how could anything from it be bothering me?” I asked the question with an almost arrogant tone in my voice, but then reality suddenly slapped me between the eyes. Maybe she knows there is a reason I can’t remember my childhood. Maybe there is something horrible there I don’t want to remember. I was about to ask her just exactly what issues she felt were unresolved when she stood up from her chair and closed the folder.

“Katherine, our time is up for today; but I want you to continue to write things down in your notebook, and I think I would like to see you again in two weeks this time. Will that work for you?”

I nodded my head to agree with the day and time she wanted me to return. My head was foggy and unclear as to what had just happened. How had talking about dreams of a scared little girl turn into me having unresolved issues? I decided I needed to visit my mom again. She had to know more than she was telling me, and if I could get her to open up, maybe my mom could help lift the fog from around my mind.

***

I wasn’t used to seeing my mother upset. She was always smiling, always full of life and chatty, but now with me pleading for more information about my early childhood, she was quiet and wore an expression of worry across her brow. Her look of concern just increased my desire to know more. My life before coming to stay with my parents was a complete blank, and I had only a few memories in the beginning of my life with them. I could almost see a wall in my mind where the memories of my life began. After a few months with Bill and Vanessa Tipton, my mind seemed to just wake back up. From that point on I had tons of memories of daily events and special occasions. It felt as if my life had actually started when I was eleven years old.

“Katherine. Why all this concern about your childhood, dear? You are a grown woman with a child of your own. Let the past stay buried.”

Stay buried! What was she saying? To me that implied she did know more and felt I was better off not knowing my past. My mother had only called me Katherine when introducing me to schoolteachers or doctors. She and my dad had always called me Katie. Jason had shortened my name even more to Kat. No one in the family called me Katherine, so this had to be serious.

“Mom, the doctor feels I have unresolved issues from my childhood. She said that was why she agreed to see me as an adult. I guess despite the thick folder she has on me, she really doesn’t have all that much information about my life before I came to live with you. Please, if there are things you can tell me that may help me find answers—well, I’m begging you to tell me now.”

She stared back at me with sympathetic eyes and considered my plea. Before she spoke, Mom reached over and gently rubbed the scares on my hands as if tracing the question marks they represented. They had faded a great deal as I’d grown, but they were still deep enough to cause a stranger to give me a questioning look. I had never really had an answer for those curious enough to ask. The scares were never as embarrassing to me as the fact that I had to tell people that I had no idea how I got them. Maybe soon there would be answers to that question and many more.

“Well, dear, all I really know is that when the police brought you to the hospital your hands were burned pretty badly. They told me the fireman had a terrible time getting you to let go of your baby brother so he could wrap them up.”

Her words were like a hard punch in my chest, and I had to struggle to catch my breath. My eyes had to have been as big as half dollars when I stared back at her.

“Did I hear you right? Are you telling me I have a brother, and you never told me about him? Where is he? What happened to him?”

My head was spinning from the revelation. Why was I only hearing about this now? My first thought was to be angry. How could she have kept that from me, and why would she? I was in the twilight zone. I was staring at my mother as if she had two heads and horns.

“I don’t really know anything about him, Katie. He went to another family, I assume. We were too busy with you to try and follow up on him. You were in shock for months, even after you left the hospital. You barely spoke a word until the day you were adopted, and you asked to be named Katherine Marie. I guess the truth is we were afraid to tell you since you seemed to have no memory of him. You were finally happy, and I guess we just wanted to keep it that way. Make a fresh start with a new name.”

“So, that isn’t the name I had when I arrived?”

My mother was driving me mad without realizing it. She was relaying this information to me as if it were a simple bedtime story and of no significance. I felt tears burn my eyes but fought to keep them from falling. If she had any idea how betrayed I was feeling, she would get upset and probably stop talking about it. I had to keep it together. She was finally giving me the information I needed, and I was not going to give her reason to stop

“There was a nurse who had been extremely kind to you in the hospital. She spent her off hours reading to you and playing games. She appeared to be the only person you trusted in the beginning. You loved her so much, and so when you found out you were getting a new last name, you asked if you could pick your new first name. You wanted to be Katherine like the nurse who had taken care of you. And I suppose the middle name came from your other nurse. Her name was Marie. Since you had never responded to your other name, we felt it was the best thing to do.”

I was feeling sick to my stomach. This was too much to take in. All I could think about was that she had known this all along and had never told me any of it. I felt myself getting angry with her, but I tried to keep in control partly because I didn’t want to scream at her and stop the flow of information coming forth, and partly because I loved her and knew she’d done what she did to protect me. I didn’t agree with her decision, but I did understand it.

“Mom,” I said in almost a whisper, “do you know what my name was before I changed it?”

She looked at me like it was the silliest question I could have asked.

“Well, of course I do, Katie. Your name was Evelyn Belle Moon. The neighbor who gave the police information about you called you Evie.”

It was as if I had run head on into a brick wall. I felt dizzy, and my head was pounding as if my heart had moved locations and now rested in my skull. In a matter of seconds, all the dreams and visions replayed in my head more vividly than any movie on the big screen. I was trying to grasp what I suddenly knew had to be true. Evelyn was Evie. I was Evie! All those dreams were memories, and Dr. Anna was right. I did have unresolved issues, because even with this new knowledge, I still remembered nothing. It was as if my life before I became Katherine Marie Tipton had never happened. Evie still seemed to be a separate person from me. I did seem to feel her emotions, and, yes, I felt very protective of her, but she wasn’t me; she couldn’t be me. The fog that I’d hoped my mother could help lift was now so dense and thick I could barely breath.

“Katie… Katie, are you all right?”

I realized my mother had called my name several times as I stared out of blank eyes, reeling from my attempt to process the news.