It was New Year’s Eve before the roads were clear enough for travel. The Weavers were preparing a small celebration to begin 1879, tidying up the house, baking special desserts and hanging up paper snowflakes the children made.
“I like doing something special for New Year’s,” Ma told Olivia as they hung snowflakes in the parlor windows. “The children like it too. This is a special house, child, full of special people. Sometimes family is all you have – at least around here. We have friends, but we’re so far from anywhere we have to be each other’s friends too.”
Olivia let her eyes wander around the parlor. The Christmas tree had been taken down a few days before, and the room looked like a cozy, magical winter wonderland. She realized she had no recollection of ever having friends. Did that, like so many other little things she’d been discovering, mean she had none?
With each passing day she became more aware of things that were absent from her forgotten life. Though she still lacked specifics, it was becoming clear she must have been miserable. But why? She was experiencing emotions, but no memory was attached to them. The only things real in her life at the moment were the Weavers and the Johnsons – one Johnson in particular.
Speaking of which … “Olivia,” George called as he entered the parlor. “Can I speak to you?”
She nodded, finished hanging the partially mangled snowflake Sebastian had made and followed George into the hall. “What is it?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve hardly been able to speak to you these last few days. I know you’ve been avoiding me.” He shrugged.
She looked away and sighed. It was true, she had been – and he knew why.
He put his hand under her chin and brought her face around. “Olivia,” he said softly. “Let’s not part this way.”
She shut her eyes tight as her throat grew thick. “George …”
He stepped closer. “I don’t want to part as enemies.”
“You’re not my enemy.”
“Am I your friend?”
She looked at him. “Of course.”
“Then why the silent treatment? You’ve hardly spoken a word to me this week.”
She shook her head, unable to speak. He knew they didn’t have a future. So long as she didn’t know her past, it was too much of a risk to move forward. She could be married for all she knew. Not that she thought she was – that was another thing she felt missing from her life. A husband, children, love, friends, joy … the list was growing long and despairing.
“Please, talk to me,” he said gently. “If we must part, let us part as friends.”
She looked into his eyes, dark as fine chocolate. “Oh, George. If only I wasn’t so … damaged.”
“You’re not damaged, my dear, just not yourself, that’s all.” He cupped her face in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I would love to get to know you better. If you’ll let me.”
She shook her head again. “George, there’s no point. You’re leaving – you have a life to go back to. I have nothing, not even my memories.” She hugged herself and turned away. “At this point I’m not sure I want them.”
“You should come to town.”
She turned back. “Town?”
“We’re leaving tomorrow. We’ll stay at the stage stop tomorrow night, then head into Nowhere the next. Arlan said he and Samijo are going to town for supplies. You could come with them.”
Olivia stepped away. “I don’t see the point.”
George let his hand drop. “The point is …” He stopped, looked at her, then stared at the floor. “The point is that I’ve fallen in love with a woman I can’t have.” He looked at her again. “Yet.”
Olivia’s tears flowed. “Oh George, why tell me this now?”
“So you know. You deserve to know. Just as you deserve to know your past.”
She shut her eyes against the tears and put her hand over her mouth. Sobbing in front of him wasn’t something she wanted to do, but he wasn’t making it easy.
“Olivia, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just …”
“Please,” she said into her hand before moving it. “Please just go, George. You’re not helping.”
He stared at her as a single tear trickled down his cheek. “I was wrong to tell you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you pain.”
Olivia took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry too. But please, just go.”
George glanced at the parlor, where Ma was watching them, tight-lipped. “All right, I’m going. But you still should go to town with Arlan and Samijo. Who knows what you’ll discover.” He headed for the stairs, ran up them and disappeared.
Olivia saw Ma’s expression too, and shrugged. What else could she do right now?
* * *
George packed his satchel, tossed it on the bed and waited for the inevitable. Would it come in the form of one of the Weaver brothers’ fists to his jaw? Or perhaps Ma or Harlan with “words of wisdom” and a quick “Nice knowing you”? Whatever it was, if he was going to be blamed for Olivia’s rejection, he wanted to get it over with.
“Well, now you’ve done it!” Grandpa said as he burst in. “Made the poor woman cry, I see!”
George sank onto the bed. “You, Grandpa?” Well, it could be worse. “What do you want?”
“What did you say to Olivia that made her so upset? She ran past me up the stairs like her skirt was on fire, her eyes full of tears. And Ma told me she’d just spoken to you!”
George nodded. “That’s true.”
“Well, what in tarnation did you say to her?”
George looked at him and sighed. “I told her I was in love with her.”
Grandpa’s jaw dropped. “Well, why all the tears?”
“Because she just wants me to go away.”
Grandpa smacked himself in the forehead. “What? Why?”
“Because she says she doesn’t know who she is. But the Weavers seem to.”
Grandpa stared at him, slack-jawed. “But Albert said … no, he promised …”
George had had enough. “Grandpa, there is no Albert! There is no Bob! They haven’t told you anything – because they don’t exist!”
Grandpa gasped. “They certainly do”
“No, they don’t. They’re in your head. You’re imagining them!”
Grandpa’s entire body shook. “No …”
“Yes.” George backed away. Had he hurt his grandfather? The man looked like he was in pain. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right!” he snapped. “And I haven’t gone loopy either like you think!”
George sank onto the bed. “Grandpa, we’ll talk about this later. And please don’t say anything to anyone.”
“About what? That the woman you love is married to someone else?”
George sprang up again. “Shhhh! Someone will hear you. Besides, we don’t even know if she still is.”
“I’d like to know how you heard it!”
“Arlan and his brothers told me.”
“How do they know?”
“Because Olivia …” He swallowed, still unable to believe that she could be as awful as they’d said. “… wasn’t always the person she is now. According to them she was … not good.”
Grandpa squinted at him. “So?”
George wasn’t sure how to explain it to the old man. After all, he wasn’t all there. “Maybe you should go lie down.”
“I don’t need to lie down – I need to speak with Albert!”
George stared at him. “Oh, Grandpa, please don’t do this.”
“Do what, speak with my friend? All of this can be cleared up in no time. Did any of you fellows think to get hold of her brother?”
“What?” George said, confused. “What brother?”
“She’s got a brother. Albert told me – or was it Bob?”
“Grandpa …” George began pacing. “What are you talking about?”
“If you listened you’d know!”
George stared at him blankly. Did any of the Weavers mention Olivia had a brother? He couldn’t recall, which meant that his grandfather was talking nonsense again. “All right, why don’t you go lie down or read a book or something? I have things to sort out.”
“Fine, I will. Albert, Bob and me need to have an emergency meeting!”
George nodded wearily. “You do that.” He shouldn’t encourage him, but was too drained to deal with him further. He did have things to figure out, lots of them, if he was going to do as he planned.
Grandpa sighed. “Love can be hard on a body, a mind, a heart. But don’t worry – Albert will know what to do.” He turned and was out the door before George could reply.
He stared after him. “Oh, Grandpa, what are we going to do with you?” But that could wait – dealing with Olivia couldn’t. He didn’t want to break his word to the Weavers anymore than he already had – by rights he shouldn’t have said anything to his grandfather. He hoped Grandpa didn’t say anything to anyone, but in his current state of mind, who knew?
George went to the window. The children were still building snowmen, everywhere. He saw Olivia toss a snowball at Arturo and his younger brother Leonardo, or was it Alfonzo? Finally he went to the writing desk in the corner and sat to make a plan, listing all the things he needed to do to make it work.
* * *
“I understand you and Arlan are going to Nowhere in the morning with the Johnsons,” Olivia said to Samijo as they piled up snowballs. They’d found a defensible location and were preparing an all-out barrage against Arturo and Alfonzo. “Do you mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all. In fact I’d like the company – and the help. With the extra mouths to feed this week, we’re low on some things, and we need to stock up in case it snows like this again.”
“Your husband isn’t company enough? Or help enough.”
Samijo smiled. “He’s plenty of both, but it’s nice to have another woman along. And an extra pair of hands – grown-up hands – is always useful. You can help me make a list of things we’ll need too.”
“I can think of quite a few things,” she said. “But what I need and what your larder needs may be two different things.”
“It must be frustrating for you,” Samijo said. “Not being able to remember what’s happened to you.”
“It was at first. But I’m getting used to taking it day by day and making new memories. I think it’s best to let go of my past for now, whatever it may be.”
Samijo gasped. “Olivia, don’t say such things. For all you know …”
Olivia looked her in the eye. “My past was wonderful? Somehow I don’t think it was.”
Samijo pressed her lips together, reminding Olivia of Bella’s earlier “slip”. So the Weavers did know something she didn’t. But none of them were keen to tell her.
Well, she was keen to know. And if they weren’t going to come out with it … “Samijo?”
“Yes?”
Olivia gave her a determined look. “What was I like before?”
Samijo’s eyes widened slightly, like she was trying to keep a straight face and failing.
“You knew me before, didn’t you? What was I like then?”
Samijo quickly glanced around, probably looking for Arlan. Or an escape route.
“Well?”
Samijo faced her again, swallowed once, twice. “Olivia, you were … please, don’t make me do this.”
But Olivia wasn’t backing down. “Tell. Me.”
By now the family was starting to gather around them. “What’s going on?” Harlan asked.
“I think she knows,” Ma said softly.
Every pair of eyes went wide, including Olivia’s. “No, I don’t. But you … you all know, don’t you?” She spun on Ma. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Did I hurt you? Did I … did I get you in trouble? Am I married?!” The last word came out a screech.
“All of the above, actually,” Samijo said flatly.
“Whaaaaat?” Olivia screamed.
“Well,” Calvin said, “there she is again.”
Olivia looked at him. “What is that supposed to mean?!” Not screeching, but pleading, begging for someone, anyone to tell her the truth.
Ma waved everyone away from her. “Olivia, Doc Brown said to let your memory come back naturally. We wanted to tell you, but …”
Olivia stared at her as tears streamed down her face. “But you didn’t. You kept quiet and now …” She sobbed and shook her head. “Does George know? Did you tell him and not me?”
There was a lot of inspection of shoes before Arlan sheepishly said, “Yes.”
Olivia’s shoulders slumped. “You told him, yet I still don’t know. I guess it’s a good thing I … oh, never mind.” She looked at each of them. “You should have told me. Especially the part about me being married.” She lifted her skirts and ran for the house as fast as she could, not stopping until she’d flung herself on her bed and started weeping in earnest.
It was several minutes before she could stop. When she did, her determination returned – what had she been like before? Did she have family anywhere? How had she spent her days? Was she really so bad that they felt they needed to hide her past from her? What had she done? If she was married, where was her wedding ring? For that matter, where was her husband? So many questions, and now she knew there were answers – hidden behind a wall of Weavers.
She felt like such a fool. She’d trusted these people, and they’d hung her out to dry like this. And George – what had they told him? Whatever they had, it hadn’t been bad enough to turn him away. But maybe it was better that she’d drawn back, even as she knew she’d fallen in love with …
Olivia wiped her face. “I am in love with George. Really in love.” And without a shadow of a doubt, she knew she had never been in love before. Which, given that she was apparently married, only added to her questions. But could she get any answers?