Forget to Remember, page 18
“I met Aiko two years ago when I was in London on holiday, through a mutual friend. Her boyfriend, Jacques, had just been killed in an auto accident, and she was at loose ends. I had finished teaching the summer term and had always wanted to walk the End-to-end, but I had never found the right partner to do it with. Aiko was young and in good shape. She had nothing tying her to London and didn’t want to go back to the States for reasons I’ll get to, so we did it together.”
“You walked nine hundred miles together?”
“Yes, although the route we followed wasn’t quite that far. We walked north to south for the rest of the summer, starting at John O’Groats in Northern Scotland, until I had to return here for the autumn term. We walked some more during school breaks, but we didn’t finish until the Christmas break. Fortunately, we were walking the southern part of the route in Cornwall by then, which tends to be a bit warmer than the rest of the UK, but we still got cold upon occasion.”
“I would love to do that.” Carol caught herself. “Sorry. Go on.”
“We stayed in B&Bs and saw the country. We slogged through Scotland’s rain, looked for Nessie on the north shore of Loch Ness, hiked the moors, and got lost in Bristol. We didn’t see any pirates in Penzance, but I’ve got a sweatshirt from Land’s End that gives the records for doing the distance for walking, running, bicycling, flying, crawling, and every other way you can think of. We had a wonderful time.”
“You must have gotten to know each other very well.”
Janet smiled an infectious smile. “Of course, we learned a lot about each other. Aiko told me all about her parents and her brother who tried to kill her.”
“Michael tried to kill her?” Carol was shocked into giving Janet her full attention.
“Yes, but her parents didn’t believe her. She came to England to get away from him. That’s also why she changed her name from Cynthia to Aiko.”
“The three of them died in a plane crash.” Carol softly repeated what she had said before while telling Janet about her meeting with Mrs. Horton. Michael was dead so Cynthia didn’t have to hide anymore.
“You’re getting ahead of my story. One of the things I learned about Aiko was that she was excellent at math and had been teaching in the U.S. I asked if she wanted to teach math at the secondary school where I taught. I helped her get a job there.
“Her name was a bit of a sticky wicket because she didn’t want to go on the national records as Cynthia Sakai. She was afraid her brother would follow her here and kill her if he found her. We pulled some strings and got her name legally changed to Aiko Murakawa.
“We taught together for two years. In August, when she heard about her parents and brother being killed—it was broadcast on the BBC because of the status of her parents—she flew back to the States. I haven’t had so much as an e-mail from her. I didn’t have a phone number or any other way to get in touch with her. I was worried about her. And now, a few weeks later, you appear on my doorstep.”
“But I’m not Cynthia—or Aiko.”
“Ah. Remember, girl, you have amnesia. Here’s a test. Aiko had a game she used when she was teaching her students binary. I’m an English teacher, and I could never quite figure it out.”
Janet did a quick look around and picked up some knickknacks from a shelf. She arranged them in four rows of seven, five, three, and one. “On your turn you remove one or more from a single row. If you remove the last one you win.”
“You start.”
Carol said it automatically, without thinking. She won the game. Janet had a smug look on her face. Carol didn’t say anything. Janet suggested they play again. Carol demurred.
“Look, yes, I know how to play this game. I admit it. I beat a scam artist at it. But that doesn’t mean I’m Cynthia Aiko.”
“All right, here’s the acid test. Aiko has a scar on her abdomen where her brother slashed her with a knife.”
Carol stared at her. No, this couldn’t be true. She wasn’t Aiko. She wasn’t Cynthia. Why would Mrs. Horton lie to her? Why would her own grandmother disown her? Carol slowly unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, revealing the scar, about three inches long, something like an appendicitis scar but too far to the left, too jagged, and slanting upward.
Janet took one look at it and nodded. “That’s it. Welcome back to the land of the living, Aiko—or Cynthia, if that’s what you prefer.”
Carol still couldn’t grasp it. “I’m Cynthia? But Mrs. Horton—my grandmother—told me I wasn’t Cynthia.”
Janet came over, sat in the chair with Carol, and held her close.”
Carol was sniffling. “Why did Michael try to kill me?”
“You said he was always somewhat unbalanced and paranoid. You suspected he thought you were trying to cheat him out of his inheritance. He attacked you in bed one night in the dark when your parents were on a trip. You fought him off, but he wounded you. He claimed an intruder attacked you.”
“It was Michael all right. I could identify the smell of his aftershave anywhere. It stunk.”
Janet pulled her head away from Carol and stared at her. “You remembered?”
Yes. She remembered the smell of Michael’s aftershave. A small thing, perhaps, but enough to know she was Cynthia. She was allergic to the junk he used. If he walked into a room, she’d recognize him by his odor. She was definitely Cynthia. An enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but it would take her a while to adjust to this knowledge.
Cynthia hugged Janet. “Thank you for restoring my identity.”
New thoughts rushed into her head. “You said my parents didn’t believe Michael attacked me.”
“Apparently, it was the case of them always trying to protect the weaker child. You were the strong one. Michael couldn’t do any wrong in their eyes. He couldn’t have attacked you.”
“Did they find the knife?”
“Not as far as I know. When you got out of hospital, you realized you couldn’t live in the same house with him. He was crazy enough that he might try to track you down if you stayed in the States. So, you came to England and changed your name.”
“Why would my own grandmother reject me?”
“Does she have dementia?”
“She’s as sharp as a brand new razor blade.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to ask her.”
“Paul—Mr. Vigiano—the attorney for my parents’ estate said I came over here to write a novel.”
“That may have been what you said, but you never mentioned it to me. I suspect it was just a cover story you told people because you couldn’t say you were afraid of your brother.”
“So I’m not a budding Hemingway.”
“No, but you’re a damn good mathematician. What are you going to do now?”
“Wonder why I can’t speak French since I had a French boyfriend.”
They laughed together.
“Actually, I think I’ll go back and ask my grandmother why she rejected me.”
“That’s my Aiko—or Cynthia—or Carol, or whatever you want to be.”
Carol laughed again, a little hysterically. “I’m all of the above. There’s an old movie called The Three Faces of Eve, about a woman with multiple personality disorder. I’m the modern version.”
CHAPTER 30
Carol—for she still thought of herself as Carol—didn’t tell anybody except Janet about her plans. She didn’t tell Paul; she knew he’d be happy she was Cynthia because it would make him rich, but she didn’t want him confronting Mrs. Horton. She wanted do that herself. She didn’t tell Rigo or Frances because she was afraid of an information leak.
She had recovered part of her recent past, thanks to Janet, although she still didn’t remember any of it except for Michael’s aftershave and the knife attack. Janet had showed her the picture album of their hike through Scotland and England. The girl with Janet was her, all right. There was no doubt in her mind. Even though she couldn’t remember the details, she now believed she’d done the hike. It must have been a great adventure.
Janet also showed her photos of Aiko with teachers and students at the school. She could picture herself as a teacher. What she couldn’t fill in was what had happened to her when she went back to North Carolina after her parents and brother were killed in the plane crash. She hadn’t talked to Paul, or he would have mentioned it. Had she gone to the memorial service? Probably not or Paul would have seen her. Had she even talked to Mrs. Horton? The woman was still Mrs. Horton to Carol. She wouldn’t be Grandma until she accepted Carol as her granddaughter.
Carol said a tearful good-bye to Janet on Tuesday morning. She took the train back to London and stayed at the Balmoral Tuesday night. She rode the Heathrow Express to the airport Wednesday morning and caught a noon American Airlines flight to Raleigh/Durham Airport. It landed late in the afternoon. She wanted to get a good night’s sleep before talking to Mrs. Horton, so she rented a car and took a room at an economy motel.
***
Wednesday morning was warm, tending toward hot, somewhat different than the weather in England. Carol dressed in summery clothes and ate breakfast at a diner near the motel. Her plan to get a good night’s sleep had backfired to some extent, because she’d spent part of the night rehearsing what she was going to say to Mrs. Horton and the balance having restless dreams.
As she drove along the unpaved road that led to the farm, she pictured the scene. Audrey would open the door. Was she in on the deception? Probably not. She had only been with Mrs. Horton for a year. The chances were she’d never seen Cynthia, only Carol. Unless she’d seen Cynthia when she went back after the plane crash.
Carol drove up to the garage and parked. She got out of the car and Butch came bounding up, treating her like a long lost friend. She was glad to see him too. He hadn’t deserted her. She walked along the sidewalk that fronted the house. The garden was still in bloom. She remembered some of the flowers Mrs. Horton had introduced her to: mums, Japanese anemone, purple cone flowers, dahlias, asters, goldenrod. Mrs. Horton had treated her well. She had helped her get assistance from Paul, but she’d denied Carol was her granddaughter. Strange behavior.
Carol hesitated in front of the door with the large window. No one was in sight on the other side. For a few seconds, she tried to contemplate her future. Whatever happened here was going to change her life forever. She found she couldn’t think about it. She rang the doorbell.
Audrey came to the door, as predicted. When she saw Carol, a big smile lit up her face. It was genuine. Carol suspected Audrey was guileless. Audrey opened the door and gave her a hug.
“Carol. What a surprise. How are you? Come on in. Mrs. Horton will be so happy to see you?”
“She will?”
That had slipped out, but Audrey passed over it. “Of course she will. She’s in the family room.”
It was only a few steps to the doorway that led to the family room and kitchen. Carol followed Audrey through the opening, wondering whether Mrs. Horton had seen her when she walked past the family room window. No. She was dozing in a chair.
Audrey went down the two steps to the family room and touched Mrs. Horton on the shoulder. “Wake up. Carol’s here.”
Mrs. Horton woke up groggy, looking old—older than she had during Carol’s last visit. Audrey had to repeat her message. Mrs. Horton finally saw Carol. A strange expression crossed her face. Then it cleared.
“Carol. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” Carol couldn’t bring herself to hug her grandmother.
Audrey spoke to Mrs. Horton. “This might be a good time for me to do my shopping. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half.”
Audrey and Mrs. Horton discussed items to buy. Audrey wrote them on a pad. Then she went out the front door. Carol saw her walk past the family room windows on the way to her car. Mrs. Horton turned her attention to Carol.
“Where are my manners? Sit down, child. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Carol sat in a chair next to Mrs. Horton. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t give her planned speech. She started crying. “Grandma, why did you reject me?”
Mrs. Horton looked startled. Then her expression changed, and it appeared as if she might be going to issue a denial. It changed again to sadness. Tears started rolling down her face. “How did you find out?”
“I found a woman I taught school with in England.”
Mrs. Horton didn’t question this statement. She fought to bring herself under control. “It’s Michael. He told me if I acknowledged you, he’d kill us both.”
“But Michael’s dead.”
Mrs. Horton took Carol’s hand and gripped it hard. “He’s not dead.”
“But how—”
“Listen to me, child. He was supposed to be on the plane, but he gave an excuse and didn’t fly that morning. He as much as told me he sabotaged the plane.”
“He caused the crash?” Carol couldn’t imagine such a thing. Yes, she could. If he’d attempted to murder her, he was capable of murdering his own parents. “Why? It couldn’t be for money. Wasn’t he written out of the wills?”
“I’ve thought and thought about that. If you’re not found, the estate goes to a nonprofit organization. I haven’t been able to find out much about it, but I suspect Michael’s behind it.”
Could that be true? Carol’s mind didn’t work in devious ways, but from what she’d learned she suspected Michael’s did. “I haven’t actually seen the wills of Richard and Helen.” She had a hard time thinking of these strangers as her parents. “Paul said they were rewritten a year ago. Do you think Michael convinced them to do it?”
Thoughts were racing through Carol’s head. She didn’t give Mrs. Horton a chance to answer. “Michael must have been the one who put me in the Dumpster and left me for dead. He must have been the one who shot at me in the driveway.”
“When did that happen?”
“After I went back to California.” Thinking about the Dumpster reminded Carol of another question. “Did you see me after my parents died?”
“No. Of course, I prayed that somehow you were alive and would hear about the crash, but you never showed up.” Mrs. Horton shook her head and then sighed. “I always knew there was something wrong with that boy. Helen and Richard wouldn’t listen.”
“He stabbed me with a knife, but they wouldn’t believe it was him.”
“I tried to talk some sense into them. It was no use. I knew you wouldn’t lie. He had them mesmerized. I almost spilled the beans when Paul asked if Cynthia had a scar, but I was too frightened.”
“Where is he now?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. He called me a few weeks after the crash. I almost had a heart attack. At first, I didn’t believe it was him, but no one else sounds like he does. Somehow he found out you were coming here. That’s when he told me to say you weren’t my granddaughter or he’d kill us both. He also told me not to tell anybody he was alive.”
“Since he’s tried to kill me three times already, that’s not hard to believe. As I said, the shooting in California occurred after I came here. Apparently, he’s still afraid I’ll get the money.” Carol needed to protect her grandmother. “We have to go to the police.”
Mrs. Horton shook her head. “He warned me against that. If we do, he’ll kill us for sure.”
“We have to get you to a safe place.”
“There is no safe place as long as he’s out there.”
“This house can’t be easily guarded.”
“I’ve lived here too long to move now.”
Carol wanted to argue with her, but she knew it was futile. Besides, Mrs. Horton was right. Any place she went, Michael would find her. Mrs. Horton released her death grip on Carol’s hand.
“I’m being selfish. It’s much more important that you survive than I do. I’ve lived my life. I didn’t send in the DNA test because I was scared. I didn’t want you to find out who you were. I was afraid Michael would kill you. Now that you know, I’m going to do it. Then, if something happens to me, you can use it to help prove who you are, if there’s any question.”
Carol went and got the test kit, following Mrs. Horton’s directions, and helped her scrub the inside of her cheek with what looked like a small toothbrush. She had to do it three times three hours apart. They filled out the form authorizing the information to be used for matching purposes, and Mrs. Horton signed it.
Carol explained the procedure. “We send the DNA sample to the testing company. It has a lot number on it. That number is connected to Frances who’s a project administrator. She’ll be able to see the results of the test online. Since she also has a record of my DNA, she can compare them. You and I should have the same mitochondrial DNA.”
“That will prove you’re my granddaughter?”
“No, because there are probably a number of people who have the same mtDNA as you do. It will prove we’re related, however. If we match but there’s still doubt, we can expand the test to include the rest of your DNA.”
Under Mrs. Horton’s direction, Carol made them lunch. While they were eating, Mrs. Horton reminisced about when Carol was young (referring to her as Cynthia), and mentioned she was a majorette since the age of seven.
“When you showed me family pictures, there weren’t any of me in any kind of majorette uniform.”
“I-I took them out of the books. I also hid the pictures of you when you were older—any that looked too much like you do now. I didn’t want anything to jog your memory.”
Carol still had a hard time believing her grandmother would reject her, but the fact that she did it out of fear for her safety helped.
They discussed whether they should talk to Paul. Carol was against it. “He’s not trustworthy. He altered the picture of me to try and convince me—and you—I was Cynthia.”
“He wasn’t sure you were. Money is the root of all evil. He had millions to gain if you were Cynthia. It was unethical, but because you are Cynthia we should all be on the same side now.”
