Dear Mystery Guy (Magnolia Sisters Book 1) Page 8

  "I don't even know what a Chow-Chow dog is." Keisha frowned. "How do you even know there is a dog called a Chow-Chow?"

  "Because I had one, a puppy; his name was Barnes. They have purple tongues," Della signed. "And they have a thick coat of hair. It gives them a cuddly look, like a teddy bear." She pictured Barnes in her mind's eye.

  Keisha grabbed her laptop, which was under the dress and typed Chow-Chow in the search engine. She looked at Della after scrolling through the images of Chow-Chow dogs.

  "This is not like the ordinary dogs that I know around here. Maybe you lived somewhere other than in the tropics because these dogs have very thick fur, unless your parents had him in the air conditioner constantly or you lived in one of the cooler sections of Jamaica like Blue Mountains or Mandeville."

  Or Malvern, Della thought. Or somewhere other than the tropics. Della's mind raced. Seriously, was what I remembered a real memory? Yes it was. It had been a memory. She was certain of it. She had had a dog named Barnes.

  A single kernel of hope flared in her chest. She wanted more of these memories. Keisha's frilly pink dress had opened the door to something more.

  "Can I borrow your dress?" Della asked Keisha.

  "Sure, take it," Keisha said, grinning. "It would be very interesting if you wore it."

  "No," Della fingered the lacy cloth. "Just want to see if it jolts my memory again."

  Chapter Eleven

  Hi Luca,

  I have good news and I have very good news. The good news is I got a job. Yes--the power of Patricia Benedict at work. I should start working next Monday. The very good news is I remembered something new from my past, though it scares me. I had a real memory of a pink and white room and a Chow-Chow dog named Barnes. I was so excited to tell everyone about it but I can't.

  If I tell my sisters they may throw cold water on it. They might say that they are false memories. I can't risk that. I love this feeling of being one step closer to my identity. The only thing is, I need more memories. I need more!

  I am beginning to think that I wasn't a neglected child. I had parents. I had my own room; it was in a pink and white with a princess theme. I was loved. I had to be; I had my own room and a dog. Do you know of any unhappy child with her own room and a dog? Besides, I saw a picture of myself looking happy.

  Thank God. I can rule my parents out of my head as suspects for my attempted murder. Yes, I must admit that for years after seeing and hearing the stories of several girls in the home, I have come to realize that parents are not always protectors. And yes, I did consider that my parents could have been the perpetrators for my crime because nobody had come forward to claim me.

  You should hear some of the horror stories that the girls at Magnolia House have to tell about what their own family members do to them.

  You know, I always mention Magnolia House and the staff in my prayers at night. They need it. They are doing an excellent job taking care of girls like me who do not know any other family. And I thank God for Patricia most of all; she is exceptional--the reason I am here now. The reason I am even me. My growing up years would have been so different if it hadn't been for her and her compassion and love for me. Matron used to tell us that God always sends someone in our life to make it brighter. She also said that when we benefit we should make someone's life brighter as well.

  Isn't it contrary, Luca, how I got a memory of my past and I feel so teary-eyed about the things that I actually can remember?

  I am too keyed up to sleep. I did an Internet search for dog breeders in Jamaica that sell Chow-Chow dogs but I came up with nothing. That type of dog is not really popular in this climate. So much for my detective work. I hung the dress that triggered my memory on my room door and I sit and stare at it but that's it! It hasn't triggered even a sliver of memory since this morning.

  I find myself saying, Come on ugly dress, do something, but it just hangs on the door, pink and silent.

  I don't think I can sleep tonight. I should focus on something else, my favorite topic...you. I did an Internet search on you...found nothing. Seriously, Luca. This is the day and age when you are supposed to be on the Internet so that I can at least have a picture of you to drool over.

  No, strike that, I don't drool.

  *****

  Della started working at her new job at Benedict and Associates in the second week of January. She showed up at the nicely-appointed offices in the middle of New Kingston and was shown through the extensive carpeted hallway to Liam Benedict's office.

  He looked like the Benedicts. Most of those she had met in the past at Patricia's Christmas dinners were good-looking people. Liam was tall and trim and had an erect bearing. Liam indicated for her to have a seat and he was now staring at her, his shaggy eyebrows wriggling up and down as if he didn't know where to start.

  "Ahem." He cleared his throat. "Patricia said that you don't have a voice but that you could speak. I read lips, so go ahead. Tell me about yourself."

  "My name is Della Gold," Della mouthed for him. "I recently finished my first degree in accounting and I passed my ACCA."

  He nodded. "Fine, I understood that plainly. Of course, I have to watch your lips carefully but that's no problem. We can communicate quite well, then. I was concerned about that because none of us at the office know sign language. And that could get awkward, especially for your supervisor. Why haven't you gotten your voice fixed?"

  "I want to." Della grimaced, "but it would take special surgery. My larynx was damaged when I was injured."

  "Ah. Nasty business, that." Liam leaned back in his chair. "I remember how distraught Patricia was when she learned about you."

  "The Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist that Patricia took me to in the past said that my surgery would be an intricate one. And could possibly be experimental because of where my injury is. He didn't want to touch it and he was the best in his field."

  "Oh." Liam nodded. "I know an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist. He is a good doctor. They call him Dr. Miracle. The only problem is that he lives overseas and he rarely comes home. Maybe he could take a look at you when he gets here. My wife got her ear looked at by him. She lost her hearing in an accident. Now she is fine and she hears quite well, better than me sometimes."

  Della nodded politely. She didn't hold out much hope that she would be able to afford a big shot ENT like Dr. Miracle.

  "Anyway," Liam said, "if you do good work, we'll get along just fine. I'll ask Tamieka, another junior accountant, to show you around so that you'll know where everything is."

  Della nodded and gave him a smile.

  *****

  Della had her own cubicle and a pile of grunt work, which was more boring than taxing. Three weeks in when she pointed out a mistake on a document that could save the firm a lot of headaches and time, her supervisor Mallory came to her cubicle with a smile on her face.

  "Della, this is the Tropical Luxe account. It is fairly hefty. A single client, but she has tons of property around Jamaica and several luxurious guest houses. We are responsible for handling everything from property taxes to paying her several workers. Dig in; taxes are due in two months, and we normally pay them before the rush."

  Della took the single folder from Mallory.

  "Oh, this is just an itemization of the holdings and her other interests." Mallory smiled. "The files are in the file room under T."

  "Thank you," Della mouthed to Mallory.

  Mallory chuckled. "You probably won’t be thanking me when you see just how much work this entails. Anyway, I am here to help you if you have any concerns. Okay?"

  Della nodded again and opened the folder. Her fingers froze when she saw the picture on the jacket.

  It was Josephine. Lucas Lawson's girlfriend. She almost slammed the folder closed in disbelief. Why was Josephine haunting her? She dreamt about her often and now here she was showing up in a folder at work.

  She rubbed her eyes and then looked at the picture again. It was her. No mistake. Her name was Josep
hine Fearon.

  Her eyes ate up the information in front of her. The woman was rich if all these holdings were any indication.

  She wished there was some personal information on her. The firm only had a number beside her name but now that she knew her name she could research her. She typed in her name in the search engine on her computer and was greeted by a ton of local newspaper articles about her in the social pages.

  Tameika came to her desk and looked over on her screen. "You got the Josephine account. That's like a promotion and a punishment."

  Della turned around and looked at her guiltily. "I was just trying to get to know her better."

  Tameika brushed her off. "No problem. I can tell you anything you want to know about the witch. I used to work on the account."

  Della perked up. "Really?"

  "Oh yes," Tameika said, chuckling. "Don't make a mistake with anything, or Mrs. Witch will fly down here on her broomstick and create a scene. Apparently her previous accountant must have tried to embezzle some of her funds but the idiot didn't get far because she is as sharp as a tack, and she tells us that story over and over and over again to make us nervous, I guess."

  "She just sounds like a good business woman," Della said. "Not a bad person."

  "Well, there is that rumor that she is sort of like a black widow," Tameika whispered. "All the men she marries end up divorcing her and giving her big settlements or they die. How did you think she got so much money at just thirty-seven? Though she wants everyone to think that she's younger."

  "Tameika, don't you have work to do?" Mallory passed by the cubicle.

  "Yes ma'am." Tameika winked at Della and headed back to her desk, leaving Della with more information than she had bargained for. Della had a feeling of trepidation for Luca.

  But what could she do? He should be smart enough to know what his girlfriend was like. Maybe he loved her like that. Maybe he was into bad girls.

  She looked at Josephine's smiling picture again, and that piercing headache came from nowhere and hit her.

  Suddenly she could see herself in her mind's eye: she was in a garden in a blue dress with little white flowers on the neck. The flowers were making her itch and she couldn't wait to get out of it.

  She felt a sense of foreboding and sadness so strong that she sat down on a stone bench and started swinging her legs. Josephine was some distance away--a younger version of the picture. Her hair was longer and she was in a white dress. She smiled and waved at her but Della turned her head away.

  She didn't like her. She couldn't stand her. She was not as nice as she looked. She was not genuine. She was snapped out of her memory as suddenly as she went into it. The now-familiar headache was lingering.

  She started thinking that she knew Josephine from before, but she wasn't sure. Was it even real a memory? Josephine had been in white, like a bride’s dress.

  She held her head in her hand. She felt the same way she did felt when she first remembered that she had a dog named Barnes. She was certain that she wasn't hallucinating, but where would Luca's Josephine fit into her past life?

  Maybe her brain was playing tricks on her, after all. She took in several deep breaths and waited for the headache to subside while she wondered what was memory and what was not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dear Luca,

  This is going to sound odd. Brace yourself. Seriously, sit down, grab a drink and take deep breaths. Just kidding. I think I should warn you that I am crazy. I first had what I thought was a memory from my past three weeks ago.

  Remember, I told you about my dog Barnes. I feel certain within myself that that was real. Well, today after seeing your girlfriend’s picture, I had a memory or what I think is a memory and get this--I think I know her. She was in a garden in a white dress and she waved to me.

  Told you I was crazy. I was in a blue dress with white flowers at the neck. I resented her for some reason. I was a little girl then. I don't know; maybe I was around seven years old.

  What do you think? Do you think that I am crazy, that I am having some form of heightened hallucination?

  I haven't told my sisters about my 'memories'. I haven't told anyone, really, except for Keisha and only because she was there when I had the first one about my dog Barnes. And it seems as if I shouldn't say a thing about my memories now.

  I don't want to excite anybody and then find out that these memories are not really memories but like a waking dream or a hallucination.

  Anyway, even if my memories are not real and I am just slowly deteriorating into crazy land, I think I should warn you that Josephine would not make a good wife.

  I am just going off gossip but please check her out first. I heard that she is a serial wife who fleeces rich men of their money, but it's only gossip. I have only seen her twice in person and she doesn't look like a bad person, but how does a bad person look, really?

  Matron used to say that some of the worst people dressed in pretty clothes. I can't remember the context of the conversation but I guess she was warning us to be careful of people, no matter how they looked.

  It doesn't make any sense that I warn you anyway, because you'll never get this note. You'll probably marry Josephine and live happily ever after.

  As I said, I am a jealous cow. I actually loved listening to the gossip about her. I can imagine Matron looking at me now with a forbidding expression.

  But seriously, after the initial joy I felt kind of bad for you. Josephine could mess up your life but I am sure you know how to take care of yourself. I hope you do because I never want to see you unhappy.

  *****

  "What are you doing for Valentine's?" Brigid was pushing her food around in her plate sullenly. The four of them were on Mr. Baron's back patio. It was Friday. Hazel had invited them over. Apparently Mr. Baron did not care who came over and at what time now that Hazel was his wife.

  "Me?" Caitlin looked at Brigid quizzically. "You are asking me, the single and very much not interested in anybody person?"

  "No, not you," Brigid smirked. "I was talking to the two other people around this table that don't have a potential dream guy floating around in the world who will find them and marry them because they got a dream that it was so."

  Hazel laughed when Caitlin stuck her tongue out at Brigid.

  "You two, haven't you gotten the memo? We are all adults in our twenties. Not nine years old in an orphanage."

  Brigid shrugged. "So what are you doing, Della?"

  Della pointed to herself and rolled her eyes. "Nothing of consequence. It's just another day."

  "My mother wants me to do a gig for the day," Brigid said hurriedly, "just for the day."

  The rest of the girls turned to her with various expressions of protest.

  "She wants me to escort an old guy to a function. It's totally above-board. No dancing, nudity or sex involved, and the old man is impotent."

  "Don't do it," Caitlin said on a sigh. "I wish you didn't live with her. She is slowly wearing you down, isn't she? Turning you into her."

  "No, she's not! I don't know if I should be offended at that statement, Caitlin. She can't turn me into her. I am not like Sonia, nor will I ever be a drug-taking ex-prostitute like her. And what I am doing is almost the same as what Hazel did. Hazel married an old guy; I am just dating one for money.

  "Anyway, I have hardly two dimes to rub together for this semester. Sonia said if I did four gigs like this she would pay my school fees for the whole semester and the past semester and this summer. You know I need to graduate."

  Hazel sighed. "I will soon be able to help. I only get a stipend for household expenses and other house-related expenses. I could cut some corners and help you in four or five months."

  "That would be too late," Brigid said. "Exams are in three months. If I don't pay up by then, I will be kicked out of the program, and I really can't expect you to short-change the old man of his creature comforts to help me."

  "When exactly will you be truly rich, Hazel?
" Caitlin asked, grinning.

  "Shut it," Hazel whispered. "I am on trial. If I act like a greedy person, like his children, I'll get booted. So I am silently biding my time to morph into the lady of the manor. And when I have proven that I am a trustworthy person, then and only then will Mr. Baron loosen the purse strings."

  "What's his first name?" Brigid whispered. "I think it is odd that we either call him Mr. Baron or the old man."

  "John," Hazel whispered back and then laughed out loud. "He is partially deaf; he can't hear a word. There is no need to whisper."

  "So why'd you have us whispering?" Brigid asked out loud and cut her eyes at Hazel.

  "I found it funny." Hazel wiped her eyes, "I don't get many laughs these days. Anyway, I invited you guys this evening to announce that you can all live together again. Baron has this two-bedroom apartment in the Golden Triangle that is available.

  "He was renting it to an expat couple. They are returning to Australia and he doesn't want to rent it again. I suggested that maybe you all could live there. It's already furnished. He recently had it repainted and cleaned. It's really nice and in a gated complex that has security guards, which means I don't have to worry, especially about Della. You will have to pay the monthly maintenance fee, though, but it's really low."

  "Cool!" Della nodded vigorously. "The bed at my place is giving me a backache."

  "Yes. Cool!" Caitlin sat back in her chair. "I hate where I live in Papine. I swear my landlady goes through my stuff when I am not home, but I have just a few months left to get the degree and my aunt already paid up the rent for the place. I would love to take up the offer for summer, though.

  "Sure, whenever is good for you." Hazel nodded.

  "I can't." Brigid shrugged. "I am just starting to get acclimatized to Sonia. I am slowly getting to know her."

  "Which is a bad idea," Caitlin tagged on before Brigid could continue. "Your mother is a bad...bad...bad influence. She's like the devil in a female package."