Chapter Eight
Marigold
“ M arigold, are you almost ready?” Levi rapped on my door, his voice muffled through the wood.
I stood in front of my closet with no idea what to wear to a football game. After almost two full weeks, my memory remained a blank canvas.
After fixing every machine in the shed, I’d moped around the house. The anticipation of the game offered a welcome distraction, yet I found myself at a loss when it came to choosing an outfit.
Checking the closet one more time, I slid on a white dress with sunflowers embroidered along the skirt and bodice. The raised flower stitches rippled beneath my fingers as I pressed them over the length of the fabric.
“I’m ready,” I said, swinging the door open.
Levi lounged against the arm of the couch in the living room, wearing a casual pair of khaki shorts and a navy blue polo emblazoned with Sutton High Football on its front pocket. He sucked in a breath at the sight of me.
I threw my arms up in uncertainty. “You hate it, don’t you? I don’t know what to wear.”
His gaze lingered over the dress, moved to my face, then roved back down to the dress.
“Levi.” I waved my hand to get his attention.
He finally regained his composure.
“Is this appropriate for a football game?”
“Is that from Lillian’s wardrobe?”
“Yes. Should I change?”
“She threw it away. . .” he mused, his gaze distant as though he weren’t talking to me but through me.
This dress clearly meant something to him. And to Lillian. Perhaps he’d purchased it for her. “I’ll change, but I need to know what to wear. It’s blazing hot out there, and I want to be comfortable.”
He shook his head and gestured to my room. “May I?”
“Yes. Please. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a football game before.”
He picked out a pair of jean shorts and a navy blue T-shirt that matched his polo. “Football games are informal.” He checked his watch. “And we should hurry.”
I wanted to ask him about the significance of this dress, curious to know why he looked at me like I was a ghost. But we didn’t have time. Maybe I’d have a chance to ask later.
Later. In the future. Such an elusive concept. A notion I had clung to for almost two weeks now; waiting for mornings that would bring back memories or moments that would trigger forgotten recollections.
But later never arrived.
I felt like a blank book with scribbled notes near the middle. I wanted to read the beginning. But it was as though it was unwritten.
Forcing a smile, I walked to the entry where we kept our shoes on a mat by the door.
“You okay?” Levi asked.
I didn’t fool Levi. The swiftness with which we learned to read each other was astonishing. In less than two weeks we’d become close friends.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Let’s go."
He held the door open for me.
Good. I’d managed to fool him.
Ezra
I threw a handful of popcorn in my mouth, crunching on the salty and buttery goodness as I walked to the bleachers to find a seat.
In a town like Sutton, attending a few high school football games each season was the equivalence to attending church on Christmas and Easter. I’d prefer to be on a date at a French restaurant with red wine and delicacies, but I wasn’t a heathen.
Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I walked to the end of the home section and ascended the bleachers to the very top.
“Hey, man.”
I stopped and turned to find Jake rocking the bleachers as he made his way toward me.
Just this afternoon, we’d outfitted the old barn with grow tents, lights, and a huge padlock with chains on the door. Folks considered my family well-to-do and my association with Jake might waggle tongues. Not the attention I wanted while staring a pot farm.
If the weed was as lucrative as Jake said, I’d consider growing another haul and putting the money aside to buy a vineyard. Then I’d stop farming for good. My father could take over once they released him from prison.
“You got an extra ten?” Jake asked.
“Are you seriously asking me for money?” I had precious little.
“Just a ten. I need more Skittles. They don’t have these in prison.” He held up an empty bag.
Thankfully, no one seemed to have overheard his comment. “Hush, man.”
“Everybody knows who I am and where I’ve been.”
He was right. But still.
To keep him happy and quiet, I gave him a five.
“Thanks, man.” He slapped me on the back and ambled toward the concessions.
Among the crowd, a flash of red hair stood out to me. Perched atop the bleachers, just below the announcer’s box, sat a young woman. She had long crimson hair that almost reached her waist—a sight hardly seen in Sutton.
She must have sensed my stare because she turned in my direction.
Her fiery hair, creek curves, peach-colored lips, and luminous eyes gave her the appearance of a forest dryad. A dangerous yet irresistible beauty.
Would it be polite to ignore her now that we’d made eye contact? I had no desire in talking to anyone this evening. My mind was too full of worries and hopes, both regarding the farm.
The least I could do was say hello.
She averted her gaze as I moved closer. Did she want to be left alone?
When I reached the top of the bleachers, I sat a few seats away and waved.
She didn’t reciprocate. Instead, she set her elbows on her knees and stared at the field with a forlorn expression, her red mane framing her face.
She was not from around here. Nobody in Sutton had hair that color. Had she taken a seat in the home section when she meant to sit with the away team?
And why did she appear so lonely?
Sighing, I walked parallel to the top bleacher seat to settle beside her. Perhaps I was entranced by her mysterious aura, or perhaps it was the ingrained chivalry instilled by my mother. She taught me to open doors for women, listen when they talked, and treat them with respect. My upbringing drove me closer when all I wanted was to retreat to solitude.
She startled slightly as I sat beside her and I offered her my popcorn. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
She ignored my offer. “Do you know everyone?”
I pulled the popcorn back. “Everyone in Sutton, yes. But not you.”
She narrowed her gaze at me. “I’m Marigold.”
“That’s a pretty name. Are you here cheering for Sutton?” A child three seats over dropped his popcorn. It cascaded through the slats in the bleachers, causing him to erupt in wails.
“Yes. Sutton.” She watched the mother console her son.
“I hoped so.”
“You hoped so?” She turned back to face me, the sunset highlighing every freckle on her face.
“Yes, because I shouldn’t fraternize with the opposing team.” I pointed to the opposite side of the bleachers where parents and kids here to support the away team were bedecked in red and white.
A gorgeous smile carved her cheeks as her gaze followed the direction of my pointed finger.
“Do you have a younger brother playing in tonight’s game?”
She swung back toward me. “No. I’m new in town.”
“I gathered as much.”
“That’s right. You know everyone.” She brushed the hair from her shoulder. “I’m friends with the coach.”
Irritation made my fingers twitch.
Wait a second . . . was she wearing Lilly’s clothes? Mother said Levi found a woman on the mountain with amnesia and she’d given Lilly’s donated things to her. This had to be her.
Amidst the uproar of the announcer’s thundering voice, any attempt at conversation was futile. The crowd stood and cheered as the teams ran onto the field. They introduced the coaches and starters to more applause.
Marigold and I didn’t stand, and because we were in the very top row, nobody seemed to notice.
When the kicker served the ball to the opposing team and the scoreboard started ticking down the minutes, she turned to me and asked, “What’s your name?”
Levi must have told her horrible things about me. If I told her my name, she might find a new seat. I would have welcomed that just mere minutes ago—but she intrigued me. Why was she sad? Did she truly not have any memories? Could I make her smile?
I answered her question with a question of my own: “How do you like Sutton so far?”
She brushed over my redirection. “It’s small but cute. I like the mountain.”
Ghost Mountain was an island mountain, separated from her sisters, the Smoky's. The Smoky's were preferable, in my opinion. There were more wineries there.
“What do you like about the mountain?”
She lifted her elbows from her knees as she straightened her posture. Had our conversation distracted her enough to forget why she was feeling downcast? I hoped so.
“The mysteriousness of it. Who wouldn’t be fascinated with a place called Ghost Mountain? Do you know any legends?”
“Ah, so you like stories.”
“Yes. I love to read, but I get fidgety. Like I should be doing something more productive with my time.” She tucked a heap of hair behind her ear. “I guess you didn’t ask about that.”
“I enjoy learning about you. And, yes, I know a few stories, but not many. I’ve never been particularly fascinated with the lore. When you grow up in the shadow of it, it becomes commonplace.”
The bleachers reverberated with the thunderous stomping, rhythmic clapping, and exuberant cheers of the fans as Sutton High clinched a touchdown. Marigold smiled and whooped along with them.
When the crowd settled, I said, “I’m glad to see you’re looking happier now.”
Her lips quirked into an embarrassed smile. “Was I that obvious?”
“You appeared melancholy. May I ask why?” Why was I asking her personal questions? I shouldn’t be attracted to a woman who had ties to Levi.
She tapped her head. “I . . . um . . . ” She rubbed her hands over her thighs. “I don’t remember much of my past. I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
Not wanting to scare her away, I acquiesced. “That’s fine.” I looked around, trying to think of a non-intimidating change of subject. “What’s your favorite candy?”
And with one simple question, we had fuel for an entire football game’s worth of conversation. We chatted about our favorite types of candy, the town of Sutton, and the mesmerizing sight of the sun setting over the rolling hills. Amidst the cheers of parents and the rhythmic beats from the band’s halftime performance, we shared stories and laughter.
As the game progressed into the fourth quarter, she said, “I need to run to the snack stand.”
The snack stand? How quaint.
I escorted her through the dark to the concessions counter where she ordered four hot dogs.
“You should have mentioned you were hungry,” I said. “I would have bought food for you.” Correction. I would have tried with the last three dollars in my wallet.
“These aren’t all for me. Two are for Levi.”
The buzzer reverberated through the night. The game was over. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of victory for the home team.
Marigold and I held back as the crowd surged toward the exit. I couldn’t allow Levi to see me with her. I didn’t want to deceive her, but what else could I do?
We ambled behind a set of grandparents toward the parking lot where she walked straight to Levi’s truck —the same truck he used to drive Lilly home with in high school. She opened the unlocked door and placed the hot dogs on the front seat.
I had to slip away unnoticed before Levi caught sight of us together.
“It was nice to meet you, Marigold,” I said in a rush.
“Likewise. Thank you for sitting with me.”
Over her shoulder, I noticed as Levi spotted her in the crowded parking lot.
“See you later,” I said, then turned and hastened away.
Levi
Ezra was talking to Marigold.
I pushed past my boys and navigated through the crowd toward my truck.
An over-packed minivan smashed its horn and slammed on brakes as I walked in front of it. I gestured apologetically and hurried to the side of the road.
Catching sight of me approaching, Ezra pivoted. Not up for a fight today, I see?
I had no intention of hitting him. Not on school property with the team watching. I couldn’t afford another reprimand from the board.
Marigold faced his cowardly form as I reached her. Harsh beams of headlights pierced the night from various angles, making me squint.
“What did he say to you?”
She spun around to face me. “Who?”
I gestured toward the direction Ezra had disappeared.
“Him?” she said. “We talked during the game.”
Had he known who she was? The way he hurried away suggested he did.
“He didn’t tell you his name?”
“I guess not. Why? Who is he?”
“That’s Ezra.”
She whipped her head around to look at him. “The man you think—”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t say.”
“Because he knew I wouldn’t approve.”
She leaned against the grill of the truck. “He didn’t seem malicious.”
“Everyone in town thinks he’s innocent. Except me.”
“Everyone?” Her voice held surprise.
I needed to return inside to congratulate the boys. “Are you okay waiting in the truck for a few minutes? I need to grab my duffle bag.” I handed her the keys.
“Sure.”
A niggling feeling accompanied me into the locker room where I high-fived and praised the boys for their victory. Despite the elation of our first win of the season, an unsettling emotion lingered, casting a shadow over my joy and exhilaration. However, I couldn’t identify its source.
After I ushered the last boy out and locked the doors, I found Marigold sitting in the cab of my pickup truck waiting for me.
“Congratulations,” she said when I climbed in beside her.
Her praise stirred warmth within my chest. The last woman to encourage me, besides my momma, was Lillian. She had congratulated me after every football game and gig. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.
As I remained silent, unable to muster a simple “thank you,” Marigold lapsed into contemplation. I still couldn’t identify the emotion I felt after seeing Ezra.
Returning to the cabin, Marigold’s demeanor turned somber. I owed her an explanation for my reaction to Lillian’s sunflower dress, the one I wrote a song about that still received airplay on the radio.
How could Lillian dump it into a bag of donation items? Did she think of me so little?
No. She’d simply moved on.
Before Marigold could shut herself in her room, I said, “Do you want to share a drink with me on the porch?”
She slipped off her shoes and tossed her socks aside. “What drink?”
“Pink lemonade and sweet tea?”
A grin tugged at her lips. “Only if you add mint.”
After preparing the drinks, I flicked off the kitchen light and cautiously made my way to the deck. I found her on the bench, waiting for me, her legs tucked beneath her, the moon’s faint glow highlighting her pale face.
“Here you are,” I said, offering the mason jar to her.
She said nothing as I settled beside her, our thighs brushing slightly. Over time, I’d grown more comfortable with her nearness. We could be side by side on the couch or the bench without recoiling.
“Are you okay?” I ventured.
Ice clinked her in her glass, and I glimpsed the moon’s reflection on its rim as she tilted it to her lips. She sighed. “I can’t remember who I am.”
If Donner’s theory held true, her memories would remain elusive, though it was the one thing she desired the most. How could I uplift her spirits?
“I wanted to apologize for the way I acted earlier.”
This got her attention. She tilted her head in my direction, listening intently.
“That dress you tried on before the game. Lillian used to wear it. Seeing you wear it brought back memories.”
She took a sip of her drink. “I suspected it was special.”
We lapsed into silence. I’d rather not tell her about the song. Or how I lost Lillian and my dad in less than two weeks. How I felt like a failure for squandering my career in search of my father’s murderer.
Three years had passed since then, yet the truth remained elusive. Perhaps delving into Dad’s journals would provide some answers. I’d been too distracted by Marigold’s appearance and my desire to keep my job to read them.
“How long ago did you and Lillian break up?”
Taking in a breath, I leaned my head back. The indigo sky resembled a canvas that God had punctured with a fork, pinpricks of stars dotting its expanse.
“She broke up with me three years ago, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s still painful?”
Yes, I wanted to shout. Yes, it hurt to see the woman I thought I’d marry fall in love with a man she deemed better than me.
“What can I do to uplift you?” I asked, trying to change the subject, desperate to help her find happiness in her situation. The situation I brought her into.
“Help me remember,” she said.
She wanted the one thing I couldn’t give her.
Darkness enveloped us, refreshing air sweeping off the trees. Not cold, but cooler than the scorching days in the valley.
My hand found Marigold’s fingers in the darkness, and taking a risk, I clasped mine through hers. She didn’t resist. When our skin touched, I realized the emotion I’d been unable to name.
Jealousy.
The realization stunned me because two weeks ago I deemed it impossible to love anyone except Lillian.
I didn’t love Marigold, but seeing her talk to Ezra sparked something I thought I’d never feel again.
I needed to learn more about her, about writing, about the magic of the mountain.
There was only one person I knew to ask.