The Daughters of Julian Dane Page 6

  Bewildered, Della said, “Honey, that’s not possible.” But when Addie simply turned away from her, she quickly asked, “Why do you say you have two memories? What makes you think that?”

  “It’s not something I think, Mama,” Addie answered a little impatiently. “It’s something I know, something I’ve lived with for as far back as I can remember – something I guess I was born with. At least two memories is the best way I know to describe it. The only other way I could put it so you can understand,” she added seeing the puzzled look on her mother’s face, “is ...”

  “Yes, Addie?” Della asked, anxiously waiting.

  “It’s like dreaming – only, I’m wide awake,” Addie said.

  ‘Like having nightmares – wide awake’. Oh, my! Della thought – no drugs! I should be relieved. Why am I not relieved?

  “You see,” Addie was saying calmly. “I remember things that couldn’t possibly have happened to me. At first I thought it was -well, maybe things I had forgotten, but as I grew older, I realized that the things I remembered had to have happened to someone else. It’s someone who lived a long time ago before I was born, before either you or daddy were born,” she added.

  Della was so astonished she just sat there staring at her daughter in disbelief. Finally, she asked, “Why haven’t you told us about this before? Does this have something to do with what happened at the house on South Street?”

  Addie waited thoughtfully for awhile before answering. “Mama, all I know is that it wasn’t me who was so terrified of that house. It was like someone else took over my thinking, my feelings, my whole being. This is the first time that has happened. And, Mama, I have tried to tell you, but you would never listen. You always made me feel like I was doing something wrong.”

  Della was awestruck at what her daughter had just told her. Ben had said it was like Addie was someone else. He didn’t know how right he was. Oh! My! She thought. Oh, dear God! All she could think was to defend herself of Addie’s last remark. “Addie, I have always listened to you. When did I ever…”

  “Mama, I’m not complaining. You’ve always been the best mother any girl could want. I’m just trying to explain. When I was little, playing with dolls and toys, I’d remember different toys, especially a doll with a straw body, and a doll buggy. When I couldn’t find them, I ask you were they were. But you said I didn’t have such things. When I insisted that I did, you said that when children didn’t have brothers and sisters to play with, they sometimes made up such things, and that I shouldn’t do that.”

  “Oh, Addie, honey! Oh, my darling, please forgive me,” Della begged, hugging her daughter to her. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t understand. I’m afraid I still don’t understand all this, but ...”

  “It’s okay, Mama. I know,” Addie hurried to add, seeing how distraught her mother was becoming. She felt so guilty to be causing her mother such grief. “I don’t understand it either. I used to think everybody was like me until I was in the fourth grade.”

  Della waited anxiously for Addie to explain, wanting to know all that she could about this strange, unbelievable problem of her daughter’s.

  “There was a high school parade down on the Square,” Addie continued, “and there was so many people there, laughing and waving. I saw them, but I saw lots of other people too. People who were smiling and waving, but dressed differently, and I seemed to be up above them, looking down, coming down some stairs – like coming off a ship or an airplane.

  “Well, Trudy Faraday was standing beside me watching the parade. You remember Trudy. She was my best friend then. I guess the only best friend I ever had, until I tried to tell her about the other people I saw. She said I was making it up. When I insisted that I wasn’t – well, she was supposed to come over to play that day, but she didn’t come. She didn’t ever come again.”

  “Oh, baby,” Della cried, taking Addie in her arms again. “But remember, Trudy and her family moved away.”

  “It was a long time before they moved. No, Mama, I’m different. I’m not normal as daddy says. I wish I were, but I don’t know what to do about it,” she said sadly. “I can’t make the memories go away. I’ve tried, but I don’t have any control over them,” she added looking at her mother helplessly.

  “I’ve sort of grown up thinking you and daddy wouldn’t love me as much if you knew. But sometimes I needed to talk to you or daddy, or somebody, about it. I needed to so badly,” she added looking down at her folded hands in her lap.

  Della thought her heart would absolutely break for her child, and the lump in her throat wouldn’t allow her to speak the words of comfort that she knew Addie needed. The thought of her carrying this burden all of her childhood years – and all alone – made Della want to cry with guilt. Seeing those green eyes filled with tears, she pulled her daughter’s head down on her shoulder and held her tight, rocking back and forth with her as she had done when Addie was a small child. Finally, when she could speak, “Honey, we love you more than anything. You’re our whole life. Nothing that could ever happen to you, and nothing you could ever do, would make us love you any less. And I’m so sorry you didn’t know that, sorry you didn’t feel you could tell us this before now.”

  “I tried to tell you the day before Christmas Eve,” Addie said with a hint of reproach in her voice. Della looked questioningly at her daughter and waited.

  “You remember it snowed that day, and daddy was reading that newspaper column ‘50 Years Ago Today’ about the old courthouse burning down?”

  “Yes,” Della said, remembering. “You said it snowed that night too. And I asked you how you knew that, and before you could answer me, Ben said you must have learned it in school.”

  “I tried to tell you that I didn’t, but you said I must have heard it some place and just forgot it until then.”

  “It was like neither of us would let you tell us. So, being our Addie, you just dropped the subject.”

  Addie nodded her head and was quiet for a moment, then softly asked, “Mama, would you believe me if I told you I was standing on the porch of that house on South Street, the house we went to today, the night the courthouse burned? It was snowing in big soft flakes, and there was a red glow in the sky from the fire. Or, at least, the other person whose memory I have inside me was there.”

  Della gasped in shock – in fear, and exclaimed, “Oh, Addie! How can that be? That’s impossible! Why, that happened before you were born, even before Ben or I were born.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Mama.” Addie explained patiently. “I remember things – I see things that took place a long, long time ago. I can see them just as plain as I can see the rooms in that house on South Street.” Addie saw the fear in her mother’s face, and felt sorry that she had caused it. She continued, “Mama, I didn’t go inside that house, just inside the front door, but I know exactly what it’s like on the inside.”

  Della was speechless. She knew Addie was telling her the truth, at least, the truth as she knew it, and it frightened her; yet exactly what she was afraid of, she didn’t know.

  “Until a few weeks ago,” Addie continued, feeling that now she had to tell her mother everything that she had been experiencing, “it has been only flashes of memory, of scenes. Like, when we’d go to the Riverbend Shopping Center, I’d remember a pasture where the parking lot is. There are always two horses grazing there, and a pony. Sometimes there’s a man and a woman.”

  Della was listening to her daughter spellbound, unsure of what to say or do, but feeling that she needed to know as much as Addie could tell her.

  “I’ve always seen the woman clearly. She’s short and tiny with long blond hair that glistens in the sun. The man,” Addie said, thoughtfully, “is either bending over doing something to the lady’s horse, or helping her dismount. I’ve never seen him clearly, and I’ve never seen who rides the pony.” Addie paused. Della waited, afraid to interrupt.

  “I’ve always accepted it, and tried to forget about it, becaus
e I’ve never felt anything, at least, not until we went to the Log House Restaurant, and now, this afternoon.”

  “What about the Log House Restaurant?” Della asked. “When we went there you got sick and couldn’t eat. I felt terrible about it because we had saved to go there for Ben’s birthday.”

  Addie nodded her head and looked down at the floor. “I felt bad that I had spoiled daddy’s birthday. You thought I had a virus, but it wasn’t that kind of sick. I didn’t need to throw up, and my stomach didn’t hurt. It was sick like when I went away to church camp for the first time, and I missed you and daddy. All I wanted to do was come home. I wanted to so bad, that I was sick. It was the worse kind of sickness I had ever known. You said it was homesickness.” Addie paused a few moments as though remembering.

  “And, Mama, that’s the way I felt when we went to the Log House. There was a fire in the fireplace.” Her speech faltered. A strange faraway look came into her eyes. She shivered lightly in Della’s arms. Della waited quietly. Then Addie began to talk in a voice that was different – a voice with a slight accent.

  “My doll and my doll buggy were sitting there on the hearth, and mother’s little rocking chair was sitting beside them. Father bought that little chair special for mother because she’s so little.” Addie sat still, staring into space, oblivious of Della or her surroundings.

  Shocked! Della took Addie by the shoulders and began to shake her, calling, “Addie! Addie!” Suddenly, her child’s body went limp, her head falling on Della’s shoulder. She sat there holding her child, her mind in turmoil.

  Della began to pray as earnestly as she had ever prayed in her life. She had a sinking feeling that her whole world had just fallen apart, and she knew it would never be the same again. “Oh, God!” She prayed, “my child needs help! I can’t help her because I don’t even know what’s wrong. I don’t understand any of it, but I know that you do. You know what’s wrong with her, and You know how to help her. Show, me, dear God! Lead me to find the help for her that she needs!” The tears streamed down her cheeks, as she buried her face in Addie’s soft hair.

  “My head hurts,” Addie whimpered like a small child.

  Della helped her lie down and began undressing her down to her underwear. “I’m going to wash your face with some warm water and bring you some warm chocolate milk and aspirin. You’re completely exhausted. I want you to rest. We’ll talk some more later. Maybe you can go to sleep.”

  “No!” Addie protested. “I can’t go to sleep! Not until I remember!” She exclaimed, getting wrought up again.

  “Now, honey, calm down! Please!” Della begged as she sat back down on the bed to comfort her.

  “Mama, there’s something terrible about that house. I have to remember what it is. It frightened me more than I have ever been frightened in my life, more than I would have thought anybody could be frightened. And I have to know what it is. I don’t want to, but I have to,” she wailed.

  Addie was lying on her side, and Della began to stroke her back. “All right, honey, all right,” she said as calmly as she could. She moved her hand slowly over Addie’s back, her shoulders, her hair – back and forth – in an effort to soothe her, to calm her down.

  “If I don’t,” Addie said slowly, quietly, “if I don’t remember, Mama...”

  Della began to hum Addie’s favorite childhood song as she watched her daughter’s eyelids grow heavy. She began to sing softly, stroking Addie’s back lovingly, softly singing the whole lullaby over and over until her breathing told Della that she was asleep – until her own silent tears forced her to stop and find tissues.

  She wasn’t sure how long the phone had been ringing when she became aware of it. It had to be answered, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone – except the sleeping girl beside her. Yet, she was afraid – afraid of what more she might learn. Della studied the troubled face of her child for a moment. The strawberry red hair partially covering it, and Della remembered a strange man with hair the same color, and she mumbled, “What kind of a person are you,” to the memory.

  Chapter Five

  The telephone was demanding to be answered. Della hoped it would be Ben. She had no intention of talking to anyone else. Her mind was so troubled, so tormented, she was in no hurry. Tiptoeing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, she though of the change that had just taken place in their lives. In such a short time, her daughter had become a stranger to her. Always, they had been so close – sharing everything, or so she had thought. And now to find that Addie had been living a life that she knew nothing about – a life so foreign to her that she couldn’t even fathom it. And Ben! Oh, my! she thought. What could she say to him. He would be so upset. No. Ben would never believe her.

  With Ben there was no gray areas in life – only black and white. Even with what he had experienced with Addie, he would refuse to believe her if she told him the truth. The truth? What was the truth? She needed time to think, to sort it all out, to find the truth in it all. Ben would never understand, and there was no point in upsetting him further. He had work to do. She would wait until he came home.

  As soon as she lifted the receiver, she heard him calling, “Della! Della!”

  “Yes, Ben,” she answered as calmly as she could.

  “Why haven’t you answered? I’ve been calling and calling. Is she hysterical again?”

  “No, Ben. She’s all right now. I’ve finally gotten her to sleep.”

  “Oh, good,” he said with relief. “I was sure she’d calm down as soon as I got her home to you. Did you find out what frightened her so – what it’s all about?”

  Della knew the question utmost in Ben’s mind. “It’s not drugs, Ben. You don’t have to worry about that, and she doesn’t know what frightened her so badly.” She was making every effort to sound normal.

  “But you’re sure about the drugs?”

  “Yes, Ben.”

  “Boy!” he exclaimed. “That’s sure a relief. I just knew our Addie wouldn’t do anything like that. But what did she tell you? Who is this Nicki person?”

  Della wasn’t sure how to answer. She hadn’t had enough time to think.

  “Del, are you okay? What did Addie tell you?” he insisted.

  “Well, it’s a little difficult to explain, especially over the phone. It’s sort of like we said earlier – you know – having a nightmare while she’s still awake.”

  “Yeah. But what caused it?” he demanded.

  “Ben, dear, it’s something we should talk about when you get home. At least we know it’s not drugs, and she’s all right now,” Della assured him.

  “Well, okay, Del. You know best. We’ll talk about it when I get home. We can deal with anything as long as it’s not drugs.”

  Oh, how Della wished he was right. Ben, my darling, you just might wish it was drugs, she thought. At least we would know where to get help.

  “Look, honey,” Ben said, “don’t bother fixing supper. Donnie is going to stay and help me do some of the cleaning. I’ll have him pick up some burgers and fries for us. Just fix you and our girl something light. I know you’re upset. I can tell. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Take this number down. I’m sure glad this phone is still connected.”

  Della wrote down the number and assured Ben she would call him if she needed him, then replaced the phone in its cradle on the kitchen wall. She returned to Addie’s room and looked in.

  Addie was sleeping soundly, peacefully, in fact, more peacefully than she usually slept. It seemed to Della that Addie had never known true rest in her sleep, not even as a baby. And she wondered if all this had anything to do with Addie’s sleep pattern. And how did it affect other areas of her child’s life?

  Was this why she was such a loner, never any girl friends, and certainly no boy friends. And by the process of putting herself in Addie’s place, she was sure of it. And all this time her daughter had carried this burden alone – not feeling she could share it with her own mother. Della was beginning to feel ver
y guilty.

  She closed Addie’s door softly and returned to the kitchen table and sank down in a chair. Resting her head in her hands, she remembered the strange look that had come over her daughter’s face when she was talking about their visit to the Log House Restaurant. That voice – it was not Addie’s voice that said, ‘my doll and my doll buggy there on the hearth, and mother’s little rocking chair’. A strange voice had spoken through her child – a voice with a slight English accent. It was the voice of a small child, a girl of course. Was it actually possible that two people occupied Addie’s body. If so, was it someone who had lived right here in this town a long time ago, in that house on South Street? If that wasn’t it, what was the answer? But was a thing like that possible? Who could tell her if such a thing was possible?

  Dr. Bradley? No. She didn’t think so. You had to be running a fever, throwing up, having diarrhea, or be in excruciating pain for him to even see you. Otherwise, you got his nurse practitioner.

  Then she thought Brother Morris! He should know. Surely he would know. She half arose from her chair to call him. No. She had to discuss this with Ben first. She knew it would be impossible for Ben to accept her explanation of Addie’s behavior, still, he had to know. She had to try. He had to be a part of the decision to share it with Brother Morris, or anyone else, in an effort to find help for her child.

  Della’s own head was beginning to ache from the stress of it all, or because she had eaten only a piece of fruit for lunch. She got up and made herself a ham and cheese sandwich and some coffee. Although food was the last thing she wanted, she knew she had to eat. All the while she was keeping an ear tuned to Addie’s door and praying for understanding and help from her Heavenly Father.

  It was all so unbelievable. Things like this didn’t happen to ordinary people. They didn’t happen in real life, only on TV, in the movies, or in books of fiction. And as much as she read, she had never read of such a thing, or heard of such a thing. Who would believe that another person lived inside Addie’s mind, her memory? Would Brother Morris believe her? If he didn’t, where would they turn? Addie needed help. There was no denying it. They would have to find it for her somewhere, once she made Ben understand something she really didn’t understand herself.