Never Forgotten (Never Forgotten Series) (9 page)

J
uly passed too quickly. I became Mom’s regular driver when she had to go for chemo. She seemed to take the treatments okay, although they made her tired and gave her an upset stomach. We didn’t talk about David on those drives. I hadn’t dreamed of him again, and Mom never brought him up. On the days Mom didn’t have treatments, I hung out with either Katie, Evan, or both of them.

I tried to avoid thinking about school, but my enrollment materials came in the mail, along with a supply list and class schedule. I was comfortable with every class they placed me in. Katie called that night, and we compared notes. We had lunch together, as well as first period Literature.

“You’re not worried, are you, Meara?” Katie asked.

“A little,” I admitted.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I’ll show you around, especially since we have first period together. How cool is that?”

“It’s great,” I said, and I meant it. Katie and I had grown close over the last month. At first she came across kind of strong, but once I got used her personality, she was a lot of fun.

“Are you ready for our shopping trip tomorrow?”

Katie convinced me that the best time to shop for new school clothes was the beginning of August when the stores had the best selection. I hadn’t been to the mall yet. As soon as she heard that, she arranged the trip.

“All set,” I confirmed. “You’ll give my mom a lift to the clinic, right?”

“No problem,” Katie said. “I’ll pick you up at nine o’clock, okay? See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone and flopped back on my bed. I was excited about tomorrow. Sure, it was just shopping, but I hadn’t been to a mall in forever. I missed Kim, and I was getting apprehensive about starting at a new school, in a new country. There was nothing like a new outfit or two to boost your confidence.

I’d asked Ula on Wednesday if she wanted to go with us, but she declined. She gestured to her outfit, a bright paisley swirled dress reminiscent of the 60s, and told me that the mall didn’t sell the type of clothes she liked to wear. I couldn’t disagree with her. I told her she could just hang out and not buy anything, but she politely declined.

I eventually fell asleep and dreamed I was on the beach again, where I first saw the man who said he was David. This time was different from my previous two dreams about him. Rather than participate in the dream, I was a bystander.

My mother stood in front of me. Young and beautiful, she looked like she did in the black and white photo on my dresser. Her glossy, chestnut-brown hair waved down her back and ended at her waist. She wore a bright yellow sundress that swirled at her ankles. Her feet were bare, as was her face. She looked fresh and vibrant, a rosy hue blooming on her cheeks. She was locked in the arms of a handsome man. The man from my dreams. David.

He held her close, resting his chin on her head with his arms wrapped around her waist. Their eyes were closed, and they appeared to be swaying to a song I couldn’t hear.

“You’ll leave,” she said.

He nodded without opening his eyes and tightened his grip on her. “I have to.”

“Will you return?”

He paused for a moment, and then sighed before replying. “I don’t know.”

I watched my mom’s face tighten as if struggling with some internal war. For a moment, she looked desperate, and then her face relaxed. She opened her eyes and stared up at him.

“I don’t care!” she cried. “If we only have this summer together, it’s more than I’ve ever had with anyone else. I love you!”

He took her chin in his hand and leaned close, whispering. “If I hurt you, it’s never what I intended. I love you, Sharon, more than I have ever loved another woman.”

With that, he kissed her deeply. I shuffled my feet, embarrassed. Jeez, these people were my parents. If this was a glimpse of what had been between them, then I had no doubt that David had loved my mom. Very much.

***

After dropping mom off at the clinic, it was a short ride to the mall. Katie circled to find a spot. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who thought this was a good day to shop. I spotted a small car backing out in the next aisle over, and Katie maneuvered into the spot like a pro. She jumped out of the car and, once I was by her side, pulled me along, not stopping until we stood at the center of the mall.

“What do you think?” Katie turned to me. “Where should we start?”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “You pick.”

Apparently, that was the right thing to say. Katie took me to her favorite store, and she started to pick out outfits for both of us. She held up a pair of designer jeans. The pockets were embellished and sparkly. “What do you think?” she asked.

“For who?” I eyed the jeans cautiously. The price tag told me that they’d eat up almost the whole clothing budget I’d allotted myself.

“I guess either of us, but I was thinking me. You don’t strike me as the sparkly type.”

Relieved, I nodded. “Yes, for you, they’re cute. You’re right. My tastes run a little more plain.”

Katie shook her head. “Simple, maybe, but not plain.” She handed me a pumpkin orange, V-neck sweater. It was fuzzy and soft. “How about this?”

“I love it.” It was on sale, too—40% off.

She nodded absentmindedly, already moving on to another rack. “I knew it. That’s a great color for you with your dark hair. It would look horrendous on me.”

We took armfuls of clothes into the dressing room. The wildest thing I tried on was a faux fur vest in a spotted leopard print. I thought it looked ridiculous, but Katie kind of liked it. I didn’t get it, but I found plenty of things to buy. Within a couple of hours, we were laden with shopping bags.

“Do you want to get some lunch?” Katie asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Can we put the bags in the car first?”

“Good idea.”

We took the bags out and placed them in the truck. I felt so much lighter and freer without them, which made me realize how hungry I was. Katie wanted tacos, and I wanted a turkey wrap and fries, so we split up to order. When I turned to find a table, Katie waved at me from one by the window.

In between bites, we talked about school. The volleyball team started practice on Monday. Katie wanted me to try out, but I wasn’t into sports. She tried to convince me, so I told her I wanted to limit my extracurricular activity so I could spend more time with my mom. Once I said that, she dropped the subject. I felt a little guilty using my mom as an excuse, but it worked.

I sipped my shake, nodding while Katie described the recent team drama. I was only half listening. My mind kept wandering to the dream I had last night.

“Are you okay?” Katie asked. “You seem distracted.”

“It’s…ah.” I struggled, fidgeting with my straw. Could I tell Katie about David? I looked up to find Katie watching me, waiting. Her blue eyes filled with concern, and she reached for my hand.

“Meara, what is it?” she asked. “You know that we’re friends, right? That you can talk to me? Tell me anything. Even if Evan is being a pig-head, you can tell me.”

Her concern touched me. “It’s not about Evan.”

“Then, what it is?”

I debated, ultimately deciding that I needed to tell someone. It was killing me not talking about my dreams. Once I started, it all poured out. I told her about all three dreams. She listened, a myriad of emotions crossing her face from disbelief to awe.

“Holy crap!” she exclaimed when I finished. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Just my mom,” I said. “But only about the first two.”

“Why didn’t you tell her about the last one?”

Once again I debated how much to tell Katie. I had my reasons for not telling my mom. Katie was one of my only friends here, what could it hurt to tell her? “I…I think she was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Katie asked, her blue eyes wide.

“I don’t know.”

“Wow.” Katie took a sip of her soda. She looked deep in thought and had a strange expression on her face.

“Do you believe me?” I asked.

Katie paused. “I want to show you something.” She reached in her purse and dug around, eventually producing a small, worn, black and white photo. She held it out so I could see, pointing at the figures. “Here’s my dad. You haven’t met him yet. Next to Dad is Mom. Your mom is beside her. On the end? That’s David.”

“Can I see?” I reached for the photo.

“Sure.” Katie handed it to me. “I’ve been meaning to show it to you. That’s why it’s in my purse. I’m not some weirdo who carries around pictures of my parents and their friends.”

Katie laughed at her own joke, but I was too distracted. I stared at the photo, recognizing a younger, prettier version of Lydia and an image of my mom similar to the photograph in my room. On the end, with his arm around my mother, was David. Goose bumps covered my arms when my suspicions were confirmed. This was the David of my dreams, and seventeen years later, he looked almost exactly the same.

“That’s him.” I handed the picture back.

“Keep it.” She pushed my hand away. “Have you told Evan?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m sure you have a good reason, and it’s none of my business, but you know I’m going to ask anyway…why not?”

I sighed and finished my shake before answering. “I guess I’m worried. What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks I’m crazy? We’ve only been going out for a few weeks.”

“Meara,” Katie said. “Evan is really into you. I’ve never seen him so head over heels before. He’s spent all his free time with you. You’re not giving him enough credit.”

“You’re right.”

“You’ll tell him?” she persisted.

“Yes.”

“Soon?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Good. Well, now that we’re refueled, we’re ready to tackle part two—school supplies.”

“Ugh,” I said.

“Right,” she agreed.

It was close to dinnertime when we returned to Peggy’s Cove. Katie drove me home, but didn’t stay. Her parents were having some friends over that night. They expected her to be there for the dinner. She promised to catch up with me on Tuesday, her day off that week.

I went in and headed for the kitchen, since I heard my mom and grandmother talking. My grandma was at the stove making dinner. Mom stood at the counter chopping vegetables. They turned and smiled when I came in.

“How was shopping?” Mom asked.

“Great,” I said. “We had fun.”

“Did you get some new clothes for school?”

“Yes.” She looked at me expectantly, so I added. “Three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a sweater. I’ll show you later. I left the bags by the door.”

“Do you need money?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve got it.” I’d saved up quite a bit from work. I rarely spent anything back home, so I had a nice savings account. Mom wanted me to save it all for college. I disagreed. It wouldn’t hurt to spend a little.

“Well, let me know when you want to go and get your supplies.”

“We bought those, too.” I hoped she wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t wait for her. She didn’t seem to mind, although she insisted on paying me back for the supplies.

“Evan called while you were out,” Grandma Mary said. She tried to sound casual. Her curiosity dripped from every word.

“I’ll go and call him back.”

“Go?” she asked with a frown.

I bit my tongue to keep from smiling. This would kill her. “To my room. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I kissed Mom’s cheek, and she winked at me when Grandma Mary’s head was turned. She knew what I was up to. She probably did the same thing when she was my age. Grandma Mary was sweet, and she loved juicy gossip.

I decided to use my cell phone, since both of my grandparents’ phones were tethered to the wall. One was in the kitchen, probably the one Grandma Mary had hoped I would use, and the other was in the family room. Honestly, had they never heard of cordless phones?

“Hello?”

I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. It was a deep baritone.

“Hi. This is Meara. Is Evan there?”

“Oh, Meara. I finally get to talk to you. This is Darren, Evan’s dad. One minute, I’ll get him.”

“How was shopping?” Evan asked without saying hello, adding. “Katie sure brought back a haul.”

“Yes, well, she bought more than me.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“She also has a job.” I felt the need to defend Katie.

“I thought you did, too.” Evan knew that I worked on Sew Beautiful’s website.

“I guess, but I’m kind of phasing out of it,” I said. “It doesn’t pay much, that’s for sure.”

“Not compared to those big diner tips, I suppose.”

I knew he was teasing, and I chose to ignore it. “You called earlier?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you want to go to a museum tomorrow?”

“Sure. Where?”

“It’s in Halifax. The Museum of Natural History. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“I’ll be ready.” I heard Evan’s name being called in the background. It sounded like Lydia. “I think you’re wanted.”

“We have company.”

“I know. Katie told me. It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Meara.”

“Night.”

I went back to the kitchen and ate dinner with my grandmother and my mom. Grandpa Jamie was working late as usual. After I helped clean up, I took my shopping bags back to my room and put away my new clothes. Then, I sat on my bed and wrote an email to Kim. In her last email, she begged me to tell her more about Evan, Katie, and Ula.

Details, Meara, she wrote. You know those little words called adjectives? Use them. Oh, and send pictures too.

So I described my friends with as much detail as I could, and I even wrote about Katie giving me the picture of my mom with my dad in it. The picture! It was in my purse tucked behind my driver’s license in my wallet. I pulled it out and studied it again. How was it that David only looked a few years older? Mom, though still pretty, was obviously much older now than when the picture was taken. Same with Lydia. I couldn’t speak for Darren, since I hadn’t met him in person yet, but I imagined he had aged too. Everyone aged. Everyone, apparently, but my father. What was going on? I hoped he planned to visit me in dreamland tonight, because I had questions.

I decided to put the picture in the same frame on my dresser that held the picture of just my mom. She wore the same yellow dress in that photo; it must have been taken around the same time. Picking up the frame, I carried it to my bed. The back was the kind that slid off, but it was tight. I pressed hard. Eventually, it slid down. A stack of photographs fell out. I expected the typical foam padding or some cardboard, but there was none. Curious, I picked them up and flipped them over. The first one was my mom; the one I had seen in the frame. When I looked at the picture under it, I almost dropped the whole stack. It was a picture of me when I was three. With shaking hands, I flipped it over and read the inscription.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Here is Meara at age three. She’s getting big so fast. I wish you could see what a smart, beautiful child she is. Mom, she has your curiosity and Dad, your persistence. She keeps me on my toes!

I hope you are well. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. Hopefully, we will be able to come for a visit soon.

Love Always,

Sharon

I quickly went through the rest. There was a picture of me for every year, including my junior picture from last year. Each one was inscribed with a similar message, hoping to visit, but not finding the time. Mom said she never talked to her parents, that they were estranged. If that was true, why did she send pictures of me with loving notes on the back? What was Mom not telling me?

I left the frame on my bed and went to find her. She was in her room, reading.

“Mom? Can you come to my room for a minute? I want to show you something.” I kept my voice even and calm, although I was seething inside.

“Sure, sweetie.” Mom put her book down and stood up. “Do you want to show me what you bought today?”

“No, something I found in my room.”

“Oh, okay.” She sounded surprised, but she followed me. I picked up the pictures and held them out to her. She was smiling until she saw my grinning toddler face. She clutched at the collar of her shirt and didn’t make any attempt to take the pictures. “Where did you find those?”

“In the frame behind the picture of you.” Since she was clearly not going to take the photographs, I fanned them out for her to see. “They’re me, Mom. They’re all me. If you weren’t talking to your parents, why’d you send pictures?”

“They’re your grandparents,” Mom said, as if that explained everything.

“But you weren’t speaking to them. Or were you?”

“I wasn’t.” Mom didn’t move from the doorway or let go of her shirt. I didn’t even think she was aware she was holding her collar in a death grip.

“Were you fighting with them?”

“What kind of a question is that? Do you think I was lying to you?”

“I don’t know, Mom. The evidence is pretty strong.” I flung the pictures across the bed. “I sure wasn’t expecting to find these in a frame in my room!”

“Everything okay in here?” Grandma Mary stood behind my mom in the doorway, peering over her shoulder. She saw the pictures splayed across the bed and sighed. “Oh, I see.”

“Grandma,” I said. I left off Mary, hoping to soften her up. “Have you been keeping in touch with my mom all these years? She told me that you were estranged. That she didn’t talk to you anymore.”

“That’s true, Meara.” My grandmother said it quietly, placing her arm around my mom’s shoulder. Mom’s eyes were shiny like she was about to cry. Well, let her, I thought, swallowing a lump in my throat.

“Then why do you have all these pictures of me?”

“Your mom mailed them to us, one letter every year with a picture of you. No return address. Always sent from a different location.”

“Why?” I asked. We looked to my mom for an answer.

Mom was crying in earnest now. She walked past me and sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m so sorry!” she cried. “When your father left, I was heartbroken. I couldn’t take the chance that he would try to take you from me. So, when the opportunity came, I moved as far away as I could.”

Grandma Mary sighed. She sat next to Mom and patted her knee. “That’s why the letters were unmarked and from all over.”

“I didn’t want him to find us,” my mom whispered.

“You didn’t trust us?” Grandma Mary’s voice filled with hurt. Mom hugged her fiercely.

“No, Mom. I didn’t trust him.”

“Why?” I asked. “Is he dangerous?” I wondered if I should be worried.

My mom shook her head. “He would never hurt you, Meara. He loves you.”

“But he would take me away?” I asked, which made her frown.

“I don’t know.”

I reached behind them and sifted through the pictures on the bed. I found the small one I was looking for. I gave it to my mom.

“Is that him?” I asked, pointing to David in the picture Katie gave me.

“Yes,” Mom said. She traced his face with her finger, and then looked up at me with wide eyes. “Where did you get this?”

“Katie gave it to me.”

Mom nodded. “Lydia. I forgot she had this picture.”

“You said you don’t have any pictures of David. Is that true?” I asked. She gave me an assessing look, and then shook her head. She’d lied, another one to add to the recent list.

“May I see them?” I placed equal emphasis on each word. Calm, Meara. Stay calm, I told myself.

“Mom, do you mind if I talk to Meara alone?”

My grandmother looked surprised, but she nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you in the morning, girls.”

“Come with me, Meara.”

Once we were in her room, Mom went to her dresser and sifted through the contents in the top drawer. “Have a seat on the bed.”

I sat and waited. She returned with two photographs. Both were about the same size as the one Katie had given me. She handed me the one on top.

“Lydia took this one, too. On the same day.”

My mom and David laughed into the camera, their arms wrapped around each other.

“You look happy.”

“We were.”

“David looked like this in my dreams,” I said.

Mom frowned at me. “And you’re sure you never saw his picture before?”

“Where would I have seen it?” I asked. “You never showed me.”

She lowered the other picture so I could see. This one was just David. He looked at the camera the way he gazed at my mom in the dream.

“You took this one.”

She looked at me, surprised. “How’d you know?”

I took the picture and studied it. “Because I can tell he’s looking at you.”

“I loved him so much.” Mom spoke in barely a whisper, but I heard it. My anger dissolved in her sorrow. How hard had this all been for her? To be pregnant so young, and then raise a daughter all alone. The father of your child, the man that you loved, gone.

“Why did he leave?” That was the real question. I had yet to find a satisfactory answer.

“He had to,” she said. The same thing she always said.

“But why?”

She shook her head. “Only he can tell you that.”

“Why does he look only a few years older in my dreams?”

She took the photographs back and stood. “I don’t know, Meara. It’s only a dream.” She crossed to the dresser and put them away.

Why did she insist that it was just a dream? How could I possibly dream of a man I’d never met and have him look exactly the way he did seventeen years ago? Goose bumps rose on my arms. What was going on?

“I’m sorry, Meara.” When she turned back, she was crying again. “For keeping secrets. For keeping you from your grandparents. I did what I thought I had to do.”