If Memory Serves Read online

  Sapphire fell back against her chair as though she were letting go of something she’d been tightly holding on to. “Why didn’t you just read it with him there with you?”

  Charity speared a grape tomato with her fork and stuck it in her mouth. Chewing it up and swallowing it, she said, “Because I don’t know if I ever really want to know the truth. Whatever it was, it can’t be good. It caused me to develop split personalities.”

  Sapphire reached over and touched the back of Charity’s hand that held her fork. “Charity, you were a child then. A child. You’re not a child anymore. What you might not have been able to handle then, you’re a different person now.” She removed her hand. “Would you like for me to read it, or at least be there with you when you do?”

  Charity’s body visibly relaxed; she looked up and smiled. “Yes. I really would like you to be there.”

  “Okay,” Sapphire said as she released a quiet sigh. “When would you like to do that? We can go to your house, my place, or to my office—wherever you feel more comfortable. Whenever and whatever you feel will work best for you.”

  “I have the notebook in my car. Can we go to my house after we finish visiting with Johnnie Mae? That’s if you don’t already have plans.”

  Sapphire smiled. “Sure.” Sapphire could see the tenseness come back in Charity’s face. “Relax.... Everything’s going to be all right. You and I, with the help of the Lord, are going to get through this together.”

  Charity forced a smile in return. She nodded. “Yeah,” she said, trying to maintain a smile that, despite her best efforts, continued to fall. “Yeah.”

  Chapter 19

  Now will I sing to my well-beloved a song of my beloved touching his vineyard. My well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill....

  Isaiah 5:1

  Pastor Landris had just finished powering down his computer. Johnnie Mae was in the hospital, and he was doing his best to effectively juggle church work, home life, and family obligations while making sure he spent as much time with her as possible. His main priority was to keep his wife calm during this touchy and stressful time. Dr. Baker had laid the entire situation out to him. She’d held nothing back. They were maintaining close checks on both Johnnie Mae and the baby. So far, things appeared to be stabilizing.

  Brent Underwood had become Pastor Landris’s trusted right-hand man. Angela Gabriel was Johnnie Mae’s executive assistant for the things dealing with her books and speaking engagements and her work at church. Brent and Angela became engaged on Valentine’s Day, with the wedding, to be held at the church, set for mid-October. They’d secured a new golf-course clubhouse facility called Ross Bridge for the reception. Angel, as most called her, had been extremely busy managing and rearranging Johnnie Mae’s calendar as needed, while continuing to work diligently on her own wedding plans.

  Pastor Landris looked up as Brent rapped his knuckle on his opened door.

  “You’re getting ready to go?” Brent asked, seeing Pastor Landris shutting down and putting things away for the day. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Yeah.”

  Dressed in a white shirt that didn’t require a tie in order for him to look as though he was dressed up, Brent was a businessman from his heart. “May I speak with you a minute before you go?” Brent asked. “I promise I’ll be brief.”

  “Sure, Brent. No problem.” Pastor Landris pointed at the chair in front of his mahogany desk and sat down.

  Brent sat and began to smile. Pastor Landris smiled back as he patiently waited. He had a feeling, from the grin plastered on Brent’s face, where this conversation was most likely headed.

  “You know I love Angel, right?”

  “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.” Pastor Landris continued to return Brent’s smile. “Your being engaged and set to be married soon was a dead giveaway,” Pastor Landris said seriously but jokingly.

  “Well, we’re running into a small problem. Let me see. How do I say this?” He darted his head in and out a few times as he made various facial expressions.

  “Why not just come right out and say it?” Pastor Landris said, smiling.

  “Yeah. Well . . . you see . . . things have been getting a bit intense with us here lately—Angel and I.” He looked at Pastor Landris, trying to gauge his reaction. “I’m talking sexually. . . . I don’t mean sexually, but I mean when we’re together. It’s like sparks and electricity and sweating, with increased heart rates, which is not good with that much electricity flying about. Angel walks in a room, and I light up like a Christmas tree. I mean, literally. I can’t help it. I find myself smiling just thinking about her.”

  “Oh, you mean like now?”

  Brent started laughing and shaking his head. “Yeah, like now. It’s hard to keep my mind on anything because it somehow manages to wander back to thoughts of her. I don’t know what happened. I’ve been with other women, but I’ve never felt anywhere near anything like this with anyone else before. I’m Brent Underwood. And it’s not lust.”

  “So, are you two still . . . ?”

  Brent sat up straight and quickly dropped his smile. “Oh, we’re still keeping things holy. But Pastor Landris, I have to be honest with you—it’s hard. I never knew anything could be so hard. Maybe it’s because I’ve never made a true commitment like this with a woman and with God. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, Pastor Landris, I don’t think Angel and I can make it to October fifteenth.”

  Pastor Landris tried to maintain a straight face. “What if you two spent less time alone together until then? You know, only do things with other people. Talk on the phone instead of in person, those sorts of things.”

  “Pastor Landris, I sit in my office working hard, and all day long, I’m thinking about her. I walk around with this silly grin on my face throughout the day. No matter who I’m talking to, somehow, my thoughts end up drifting to thoughts of Angel. Sitting here . . . right now . . . talking to you, my pastor, who I know has plenty of troubles of your own, and the thought of her is right here with us. I want to be with Angel now. Four months feels like an eternity to me. Sure, my head knows I can hold out until then, but my heart has gone off on a tangent all its own.”

  Pastor Landris nodded. “I feel you. Believe me, I feel you. And don’t think for a minute that I’m so religious I don’t understand what you’re saying. Tell me. How does Angela feel about this?”

  “The same way I do. We can be sitting innocently on the opposite ends of the couch watching a television program together, and it’s there. Just last night, she was handing me the remote control, my hand touched hers, and she pulled back like I had burnt her or something. The next thing I know, she was on her feet saying ‘You have to go!’ and she put me out of her apartment. We can’t even kiss anymore, quite frankly, because we’re afraid where that may lead us. I’m just being honest with you.”

  Pastor Landris sat back and started swiveling his chair. “If you two can manage to keep focused and keep yourselves until October, I assure you, you’re going to have some kind of a special honeymoon.”

  Brent stood to his feet. “That’s the problem. Angel and I talked extensively on the phone last night and earlier today at lunch, and we both decided we can’t wait. We were wondering if it’s possible for you to marry us in the next two weeks.” He stuck his hand in his pocket. “I know you have a lot going on. I promise you, she and I discussed this from all angles. We really don’t want to get married in the courthouse—that’s just too impersonal. I know we could ask another minister to perform the ceremony, but . . .”

  Pastor Landris stood and walked in front of Brent. “There’s nothing that would bring me more joy than to marry the two of you. But are you sure about this? You guys were planning a pretty elaborate wedding ceremony.”

  “Here’s what we were thinking. We could have a secret ceremony, just a few people knowing about it. That way we’d be legally married and fully permitted to be a married couple in every sense of the word.
We could still have the ceremony in October, which would be for everybody else’s benefit,” Brent said. “I don’t want to take Angel’s dream wedding away from her. I know how much it means to her. She’s so sentimental about everything. But Pastor Landris, the truth of the matter is, we can’t wait to become one. There’s no need in us trying to fool ourselves and continuing to play with fire.”

  “If you want to have a private ceremony, we can do that. I admire you both for your resolve to keep yourselves pure until marriage. Many couples would have just acted on their feelings, with only four months left to go.” He gently slapped Brent on his back. “But I’m proud of you both.” He smiled. “It takes a real man, a real woman, to stand like you two are choosing to do. Anybody can cave in.”

  “So, if you can look at your calendar and see what will work for you, we’d like to have it on a Friday or Saturday, if that’s possible. I know you have your hands full already.”

  “What about a Sunday evening?” Pastor Landris asked.

  “That would be fine. I just thought you might not want to do it on a Sunday. That’s why I didn’t suggest it.”

  Pastor Landris hunched his shoulders. “A Sunday evening is fine with me. Just let me know what date and time you and Angela desire, and we’ll go from there.” He walked back around to his desk and wrote himself a note.

  “I’m going to let you finish up so you can get on out of here.” Brent reached his hand across the desk to shake Pastor Landris’s hand. “Sorry for holding you. Thanks again for hearing me out.”

  Pastor Landris pumped his hand once with a firm handshake then sandwiched his hand with his other hand prior to releasing it. “No problem. It’s been my pleasure. As I said, you’re a good man, Brent Underwood. And I’m proud to know you.”

  Brent shook his head and smiled. He looked like a little boy who had just been commended for having helped a person in need cross the street. “It’s funny. You often tell me how proud you are of me. You rarely ever hear that come from one man to another. I’ve certainly never heard it from my own father.”

  “That’s a ‘man thing’ we need to get out of,” Pastor Landris said as he went and took his suit coat off the back of the closet door in his office and put it on. “It’s particularly important we as men tell our children how we feel—both sons and daughters. Let your father know what you need from him. Help him to help you become the man God is calling the men of your generation—the Joshua generation, the ‘Well able to take the land’ generation—to step up and be. He just may not know hearing something like that is important to you. Tell him how you feel.” Pastor Landris placed his hand on Brent’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Communication is the key to any successful relationship—both the vertical and the horizontal ones. Remember that.”

  Brent nodded and smiled as he turned and walked away. He placed his hand on the door handle, then turned back to Pastor Landris. “Yeah,” he said, smiling even more. He pointed his index finger at Pastor Landris to show his appreciation once again, then left.

  Chapter 20

  And even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.

  Isaiah 46:4

  Sarah opened her eyes and looked up. Memory smiled at her. “Welcome back,” she said.

  Sarah turned to survey her surroundings. “What happened? Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital,” Memory said. “Lena’s here.” Lena moved closer to the forefront, where it would be easier for Sarah to see her.

  “How are you feeling?” Lena asked as she took hold of Sarah’s hand.

  Sarah shook her head. “I was at home. What happened?” “You had a slight stroke, but the doctor says you’re doing much better,” Lena said.

  Sarah slowly raised her left hand and, just as slowly, let it back down.

  “It didn’t appear to have caused any major damage,” Memory said, realizing that must be what she was looking to see. “At least, not from what they can tell so far.”

  “When can I go home?” Sarah asked Memory.

  “They want to keep you here for a few days—mainly, to check you out some more and for observation purposes. Just making sure you’re really okay.”

  Sarah looked at Lena. “I feel just fine. I’d like to go home now. I really don’t care to be here. Didn’t y’all tell them I have my own nurse at home? Gayle? Where’s Gayle? She can monitor me from my house.” She looked around the hospital room slowly. “I just don’t want to be here.”

  Lena brushed back the stray graying hair that had made its way out of the pulled-up bun Sarah was wearing. “Gayle’s talking with your doctor now. You’ll be able to go home soon. Everybody just wants to be sure you’re okay. This is for your own good.”

  Sarah turned her focus more toward Memory. “Please get me out of here. I don’t want to be here. I’ve lost too much time being confined as it is already. Always for my own good. I feel fine, truly I do. Will you please tell them I’d prefer being at home?” The more she spoke, the more agitated she was becoming. She reached out her hand to Memory.

  Memory took her hand. “We’ll see what we can do. But we want you to be okay first and foremost. A few days in here won’t be that bad. And Lena and I will be here with you every step of the way.” She looked at Lena and smiled. “Won’t we?”

  Sarah squeezed Memory’s hand. “You promise?”

  Memory smiled. “I promise.” She looked at Lena again. “Don’t we?”

  Lena smiled down at Sarah. “You know we’re not going to leave you here all alone. You don’t ever have to worry about being alone again. We promise. One of us will be somewhere close by as long as you’re here.”

  Sarah smiled, then closed her eyes. “Never alone,” she started mumbling again and again. “Jesus promised never to leave me,” she said, then quietly started drifting off to sleep again. “Never to leave me alone . . .”

  Lena and Memory walked out of the room. “Richard will be here shortly. He was going to take us back to the house, but one of us should be here when she wakes up again,” Lena said.

  “I was thinking the same thing. Why don’t you go back to the house tonight, and I’ll stay. Then I’ll go in the morning while you stay,” Memory said.

  “Are you sure? I know you’re probably tired now, too. You were out earlier visiting the city before this happened. I don’t mind if you go home while I stay.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll just make myself comfortable in that reclining chair.... Stretch it out—you know the routine. When I get tired enough, I’ll simply close my eyes and catch me some shut-eye. I’ve learned how to pretty much sleep anywhere with no problems.”

  “Okay, I’ll go home and do what I need to, get some rest, and be back here first thing in the morning.” Just then, Lena spotted Richard and a middle-aged white woman walking toward them. “Here’s Richard now,” she said.

  When Richard and the woman reached Memory and Lena, Richard hugged Lena.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “She was awake and talking earlier. She’s asleep right now.” Lena looked at the woman, impeccably dressed in a flower-print, form-fitting dress, standing beside Richard. “I’m Lena Jordan—Richard’s wife . . . Sarah’s granddaughter. And you are?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. This is Polly . . .” Richard looked at her for help in recalling her last name.

  “Swindle. Mrs. Polly Swindle. I’m a good friend of Sarah’s.” She shook Lena’s hand, then Memory’s. Her speech was proper, clearly London English mixed with a kiss of some Southern influence.

  Lena smiled slightly. “Oh, yes. Polly. My grandmother has mentioned you quite often. Thank you for looking in on her the way that you do.”

  “Oh, I adore Sarah Fleming.”

  Lena turned to Memory. “And this is my mother—Memory.”

  “So this is Memory,” Polly said. “I finally get to meet you. Sarah has waited so long for this, and when she told me you w
ere here, I wanted to come over right then and there to give you a great big Asheville, North Carolina, welcome-home hug.”

  “So why didn’t you?” Memory asked with a smile.

  Lena gave Memory a “behave yourself” look.

  Polly continued without missing a beat. “Sarah asked me to give you some time alone. So you could get better acquainted. I believe she was planning on a dinner party or something of the sort so we could all meet. And now, this happened. . . .” She looked toward the door where Sarah was. “Tell me. Is she going to be all right?”

  “She’s holding her own,” Memory said. “You know with her age and all, it complicates things a little more. We’re hoping to be able to take her home in a day or two, though.”

  Polly clapped her hands. “That is great news!”

  “So, Polly, how is it you happen to be here with Richard?” Memory asked, her face not showing any hint of friendliness.

  Polly looked at Richard as though she thought he would tell how they ended up together. When he didn’t offer the explanation, Polly smiled and turned to Memory and Lena. “I just happened by the house. Quite frankly, even though Sarah had asked me to give you all some time, I just had to come by to see how she was doing. I don’t know if you’re aware of this”—she looked from Memory to Lena—“but I generally stop by every Saturday morning to chat with Sarah. Of course, last week she called because she was expecting you, Memory. Then she learned you weren’t coming, but she left me a message that Lena and Richard were here so there was no need for me to come by as I normally do. When I did speak with her, she told me you had indeed made it and that you all were getting to know one another famously. I didn’t come this morning out of respect for her previous request. But I suppose we must have some sort of connection, because for some reason I felt compelled to come by tonight, wishes or not. That’s when I learned what had happened.”