Chapter Twenty
Twenty
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Renny Russo
“Having a good memory can be both a blessing and a curse.”
Juliet
The prune whip wasn’t half bad.
Not that I’d ever make it for myself. But with that dish I could see the beauty of a cookbook club. Trying food you might never consider otherwise.
“Who made the hockey pucks?” Renny asked, his voice breathy as he tapped a gingersnap on the table. It echoed like a hammer hitting stone.
Mary Joy, still snuggled in her wrap, was managing to sleep through the noise.
“I did the best I could with no bake time or temperature.” Vera sniffed loudly as she tucked a lock of curly hair behind her ear. “The whole kitchen was filled with smoke. The alarms went off. That cutie patootie Jake came to check on me, fire extinguisher in hand.”
Isabel lifted her eyebrows high. “One might think you burned them on purpose, Vera.”
Tallulah looked up from pushing asparagus pie around her plate, her eyes crinkling with amusement, which was nice to see. For most of the dinner, disappointment had been written across her whole face, plain as day, as she cast glances at the eighth chair.
The empty chair.
Evanthe had never shown up.
Vera laughed. “You could never prove it, but I assure you, the hockey pucks were unintentional. But that’s enough about me. I want to know more about Juliet. Did you always want to be a nurse?”
Suddenly I was suspicious that she’d only invited me here so she could find out more about me. “I believe so,” I answered, circling around the fact that I couldn’t quite remember. “My mom was once a school nurse, too, but eventually went back to school and got her PhD.”
“Ain’t that sweet,” Nettie said, “you following in your mama’s footsteps.”
Once again, when I thought about starting grad school, my stomach churned. At this point, though, I wasn’t sure I could stop that particular ball from rolling. Not without causing my family even more worry than I already had.
“Do you enjoy being a nurse?” Isabel asked, her laser-like gaze on me, as if sensing my unease.
“I love nursing. I actually wish I could do more of it. A school environment just doesn’t provide that, though. Which is a good thing, right? That means the children are healthy. But…”
“What?” Tallulah asked.
I shrugged. “It leaves me feeling like I don’t quite belong.”
The lightning strike had changed so much. It had changed me. When I went back to work after recuperating, I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t happy with my job. It just wasn’t enough. So why was I still there? Why was I going back? I didn’t quite know.
Maeve nodded, and her blond updo wobbled but didn’t fall. “Perhaps another specialty would suit you better?”
“Maybe so,” I said, feeling a bubble of excitement at the thought.
Then that bubble popped when I thought about what that truly meant. Quitting my job. Essentially telling my mom that no, I didn’t want to be just like her. I wasn’t sure I could do it. Not after everything that had happened.
“What’s stopping you, darlin’?” Nettie asked.
I reached for my wine. “Life’s been a little complicated recently, so I’m not sure this is the right time to be making big changes.”
“Complicated?” Vera asked, leaning in. “How so?”
I rubbed the scar at my neck, felt flutters of panic. Talking about what happened was difficult, but it wasn’t a secret. It had made local headlines, been on the news. My therapist had urged me to be more open, to not keep it all in, yet sadness made the words stick in my throat.
Sadness and grief.
Even though I couldn’t remember my grandfather, somehow my heart knew he was gone. That a big piece of my life was no longer here.
I also carried a fair share of guilt. Because I’d been with him when he died, I couldn’t help thinking I should’ve been able to prevent what happened. Had I been paying attention to the weather? Had I checked the radar? Had I suggested we turn back at the first rumble of thunder?
These seemed like perfectly logical things for me to have done, but I didn’t know if I had or hadn’t.
Because I couldn’t remember.
Renny nudged me, and when I met his gaze, he held up the wine bottle, silently offering a refill. I nodded. It was impossible not to notice the empathy in his eyes, and I was reminded that I knew his story. Or at least some of it—and he’d offered to tell me more.
I took a big, deep breath. “A few months ago, I was on a walk in the park with my grandfather when a storm popped up. I’m not entirely sure what happened exactly because I lost part of my memory during the incident, but I was told that Grandpa and I had been walking near a tree that was struck by lightning, and we received an indirect strike called a side flash,” I said, my voice so low I could barely hear myself.
My throat was closing, my heart pounding. “I survived. My grandfather … didn’t.”
Before I knew what was happening, my chair was surrounded, and I was being hugged from every direction. There were murmurs of consolation, loving pats.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “I can never stop the tears.”
“Let them flow.” Nettie gave my shoulders a final squeeze before sitting back down. “Sometimes grief builds up so much it needs to find a way out.”
Maeve said, “How’s your memory now, honey?”
In one big breath, I told them what I’d been dealing with, then added, “But since I’ve been in Forget-Me-Not, I’ve been remembering more.”
“Helping people remember what’s been lost is one of the things Forget-Me-Not does best,” Vera added, nodding.
“Really?” I asked.
Nettie still had a comforting hand on my back as she said, “Have you not heard the story of how the town got its name?”
I shook my head.
Renny groaned and pulled out his phone. “That’s my cue to call for my ride.”
Across the table, Tallulah smiled. “Uncle Renny doesn’t like to admit the story tugs on his heartstrings.”
“My heartstrings snapped a long time ago,” he said.
“Lies,” Maeve accused. “No one’s a bigger romantic.”
He blew a raspberry.
I smiled at them and had to admit, at least to myself, that my car breaking down on this trip might’ve been the best thing that could’ve happened to me.
Being stuck here in Forget-Me-Not had reminded me that I liked making connections.
I loved people, and I was becoming extra fond of these ones in particular.
I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to tell them goodbye.