Forgotten Memories

FORGOTTEN MEMORIES

by Jansina

Photography by: Jaymes Grossman, my best friend who will always be my favorite brother

Cover photo of: Anthony and Hannah

Thank you!

Forgotten Memories

By Jansina

Rivershore Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Jansina Grossman

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

Thank you to all those who have encouraged me in many different ways over the years, and to those who gave their time to read and critique this. Thank you especially to my family, for putting up with my need to write and still, somehow, remaining supportive.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CONNECT WITH ME ONLINE

CHAPTER 1

Tuesday, September 8, 1953

Ella Mitchell

So, um...this is awkward, but...that's my grandma you're sitting on.

I stared at the young man, curious what he could mean. A half smile inched across his face as he motioned to the headstone I was leaning against. I gasped and stood up.

I am so sorry, I said. I didn't realize—I mean, I should have realized—I just—I'm sorry.

The man chuckled. Told you it was awkward, he said, the skin around his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he continued to smile. I'm Joe.

Ella, I said, tucking my notebook under my arm and shaking his hand.

So, Ella...do you often come here and sit on others' graves? He pushed his dark hair away from his eyes as he waited for my response.

I sighed. You are not making this any less uncomfortable.

I'm honestly curious.

Okay. I hesitated, and glanced at the cemetery, realizing how strange this must seem. "Then yes, I do. I guess I didn’t really think of it as…that…until today."

Ah, yes, Joe’s eyes shrank as his smile grew, teasing. Until today you were able to think of headstones as the backs of very uncomfortable benches.

I blushed, and picked some loose twigs and leaves off my skirt.

Why do you like it here? Joe looked at the other graves in the cemetery; trying, I assumed, to hide his disgust with the scene.

It's peaceful, I said. Most people won’t bug you in a place like this.

Right. Just me.

I smiled; at least he admitted it. My eyes wandered to the gravestone I’d been leaning on as I searched for a new conversation topic. Margaret Anne Blake. Margie was your grandmother?

Joe nodded.

She was a sweet lady…we miss her. I'm sorry. Margie’s son, though not related by blood to any but his daughter, was an ‘uncle’ to the entire town. She had been our ‘grandma.’

He glanced at me, his smile gone, then turned back to the headstone. I wish I could have known her.

You didn't?

Joe shook his head. Not well. I met her a couple times, but I was young. My family lived in Afton. He paused, noting my confused look; I didn’t recognize the town. New York, he clarified. It's hard to visit people often when they're over a thousand miles away.

Ah, I said, unable to think of a better response. Joe must be here to visit Margaret and her father. So, you’re related to Uncle Bruce somehow.

Joe turned to me, a confused look now on his face. He's my uncle, he said, slowly. I didn't realize I had other relatives here. It's good to meet you, cousin.

I blushed again. Oh, I'm not related. Everyone here calls him Uncle Bruce, I smiled. That's just the way his personality is.

Joe nodded. Yes, I can see him enjoying the title. He pointed to the notebook I had tucked under my arm. Are you a student?

I shook my head. I finished a few years ago. I bit my lip, wondering how much I should share with this strange man. He’s a relative of Margaret, he can’t be that bad. I’m writing.

You’re writing…for fun? The concept seemed foreign to him.

Yeah.

He raised an eyebrow, but seemed interested. What are you writing about?

I shifted awkwardly. I wasn’t used to or comfortable discussing my writing. Nothing much. I glanced at my watch; time for work. Gotta split. Later.

Joe nodded and I started the walk to work. A moment later he caught up to me. Wait, Ella, he said. Can I come with you?

I'm just going to The Diner.

What a coincidence; I'm just going there, too. I'd love to accompany you, if you don't mind.

Um, I glanced in that direction, sure.

Joe matched my step. Margaret talks about you a lot. It's great to finally get to meet you.

I shrugged. I guess she's mentioned a cousin too.

Good to see I've made such an impression. Joe chuckled.

I glanced at my watch again and quickened my pace.

Apparently unable to walk in silence, Joe said, Uncle Bruce isn't very creative with names, is he?

I let out a frustrated breath. What do you mean?

Just that 'The Diner' is pretty much the most boring thing he could call his restaurant.

"It's always been good enough for us," I said defensively.

Oh—I wasn't— Joe grew quiet as The Diner came into view. That's it, right?

I nodded.

I was here when I was a little boy. Things look so much smaller when you grow up.

Did he have nothing good to say about Backus? Well, I didn’t, either, but living there my whole life had earned me the right to criticize it.

A good friend of mine, a young man with short, curly brown hair and a hint of a beard, was walking toward us. Ella! Nicholas waved to me.

I smiled in response.

I thought I might catch you, he continued, walking in pace with us now. He turned to Joe. I'm Nicholas.

Joe.

Oh! Margaret said you'd be coming. Nice to meet you.

I glanced at him, confused. Margaret hadn't mentioned anything to me.

Actually, we've met, Joe said. It's okay; my face is easy to forget. Plus we were only around five at the time. Joe smiled. I came when I was ten, too, but didn't see you on that trip.

Nicholas laughed. Well, I don't remember you… but it's good to see you again anyway.

I'm assuming since you have no memory of me, at least I wasn’t your sworn enemy. Or perhaps I was, and you have simply blocked me from your mind. He tilted his head at him, comically.

Nicholas chuckled.

Joe pulled open the door of The Diner.

I glanced at the two of them. Come inside? I offered. It’s cold. I’ll get you coffee.

You know I can’t stand that stuff. Nicholas scrunched his nose in disgust.

Joe froze in the doorway and stared at him. You, he paused, as if the information was too much to take in at once, you don't like coffee? His mouth fell open in shock.

I giggled. I love it, and someday I will change his position on it as well.

Not a chance, Nicholas said with a smirk. I’d come in though, if I could. I was actually on my way to a job! He grinned at my surprised expression.

Really?

Hey, Uncle Bruce called from inside, in or out.

Joe’s cheeks turned pink and he let the door of The Diner shut.

Nicholas had been looking for a job for at least three years. He wanted to be a mechanic. In a town as small as Backus, that was not a lucrative career. He could have been successful in a big city, but here most people simply walked and very few owned cars.

A gig, he repeated. There’s a car that needs fixing. As if I would forget what his dream job was.

That’s wonderful, I said, then hesitantly glanced at The Diner.

Right. Go. Wish me luck!

You got it, I said, and Joe and I went inside.

Uncle Bruce looked up and smiled. Good; you've met my nephew. Sorry for scolding you before, Joe. It was getting cold in here.

I smiled and walked behind the counter. The rest of The Diner was empty. Slow day today?

A bit. He looked at me sideways, a twinkle in his eye. I’m sure your Eric will be in at some point.

I’m sure, I mumbled.

Joe glanced at me, expecting an explanation.

He's not my—anything, I said quickly. He just wishes he was. But he's the same with every girl, so I can't even be flattered.

Ah, Joe said, nodding. I'm guessing those guys are a bit more prevalent in the city than they are here.

People here have more self-respect than to act like that, I said, then reconsidered the statement. Well, except Eric.

I suppose it is a bit easier to act that way when you're not likely to come across the same people very often, Joe said. Only a handful of people will know you're a flirtatious twerp. I’m guessing that's not the case here.

I stifled a laugh. I thought you said you'd been here before.

Ten-year-old boys don't tend to notice that kind of thing.

Good point. Well, everyone knows just about anything there is to know about everyone—and they make up what they don't. I rolled my eyes. "What was it the father in Pride & Prejudice said? Something about how our whole purpose is to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them when we will? Yeah. He was describing Backus."

Joe laughed. It sounds wonderful.

I raised an eyebrow.

Well, I've always enjoyed Austen’s novels.

I sighed. He'd completely missed the point.

The bell over the door jingled, and my thirteen-year-old sister smiled from the doorway. You forgot your snack, Linda said. Thought you might want it. She placed a small paper bag on the counter and boosted herself onto one of the chairs, glancing at Joe but not acknowledging him. Can I have a milkshake?

Sure sis. I took the ice cream out of the freezer.

Linda hopped off the chair and wandered behind the counter.

Hey! I said, shooing her out. You’re a customer. Act like one.

Linda giggled, undeterred. Can I pour it in?

I turned to Uncle Bruce.

Okay, Linda, he agreed. Anything for my little basketball star.

I poured the milk and flavoring in with the scoops of ice cream.

Linda frowned. Milkshakes take too long. Next time I’m ordering plain old ice cream.

Why? Uncle Bruce asked. You got somewhere to be?

Linda shrugged. Michael said he’d teach me some new basketball tricks when he got home today.

What a nice older brother, Uncle Bruce commented.

Linda nodded, and turned to Joe again. Who are you?

Joe, who had been smiling throughout this entire exchange, reached his hand across the counter to greet her. I'm Joe.

Linda shook his hand, accepting the gesture as an invitation of friendship. Hi!

I handed the pitcher to her. Here.

Linda began pouring the milkshake into her cup.

The bell rang again. Mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

Uff da.

Linda sipped a little guiltily at her milkshake.

You left without a word, Linda.

I came to see Ella.

You need to tell me when you are leaving and where you are going.

What’s going to happen if she doesn’t? Afraid the neighbors will invite her in for tea? It's not like she's a little girl anymore.

I held my tongue. Mother already disapproved of nearly every choice I made, including working in The Diner. A woman’s place was in the home; behind the stove; in front of the mirror. Always looking pretty and keeping things nice. No, thank you.

You must be Mrs. Mitchell, Joe said, again offering his hand. I'm Bruce's nephew, Joe.

Mother nodded acknowledgment of him but didn't complete the handshake. She turned her attention back to Linda.

Joe stubbornly continued. Mrs. Mitchell, what is your absolute favorite thing to do around here?

She looked at him with a slight frown of annoyance.

I'm going to be staying for a while, he calmly explained, so I would love to learn what everyone does for fun.

I see, Mother said. Well I don't do much that you would enjoy. I'm sure Ella can tell you the things kids your age are doing. I will say, though, you should come to the gala on Friday. That will introduce you to most everyone. And of course you will come to church on Sunday.

Of course. Joe smiled. Margaret's mentioned the galas. I've been looking forward to the chance to attend.

Mother nodded and abruptly turned back to Linda.

Linda had been slurping away at her milkshake, grateful for Mother's short distraction. She now turned sheepishly back to Mother, straw still in her mouth.

Leave that thing and get home right this instant. You know better than to leave without asking, and I’ll not have you rewarded for it.

Linda looked on the verge of tears, but set the milkshake on the counter in obedience. If Mother hadn’t been standing right there I would have given her a hug and smuggled the treat home with her somehow.

Mother walked out of The Diner and stood by the door, arms crossed, waiting for Linda to follow.

Don’t let her upset you, I said softly. You’re stronger than that. Now go show that basketball how it’s done.

Linda smiled a little and hurried out the door.

Uncle Bruce looked at the clock. Ella, do you think you can show Joe how things work? I’m going to the back room to tinker with some things.

I glanced at Joe. Um, I said, confused, Joe will be working here?

He didn’t tell you that? Uncle Bruce raised an eyebrow at Joe and chuckled. Probably too enchanted with the charm of Backus to think of mentioning it.

Joe smiled. I'm helping out in exchange for room and board.

At least for now, Uncle Bruce said. He may find that I’m too stuffy for him to handle working with. He winked. So you’ll teach him the basics?

Of course, Uncle Bruce.

Joe walked behind the counter as Uncle Bruce smiled and went to his tinkering room in the back of The Diner.

Okay… I said, considering where to start. What do you know how to do here?

Nothing.

Great.

Oh, wait, he said, "I lied. I do know what this thing is." He pointed to the toaster.

Swell. When someone asks for toast and nothing else, I’ll know just who to turn to.

Joe chuckled. What does this do? He picked up a contraption Uncle Bruce had discovered.

It looks pretty and starts conversations, I said. If you find another use for it, let us know.

Joe put it down.

I’ll show you how to run the cash register. He can’t ruin customers’ food if he’s only handling their money.

He stood next to me and I explained how to use it. With only as many keys as there are numbers and a price list taped to the counter, it wasn’t difficult.

Once again, the bell over the door rang.

Good, I said, stepping away from the register to give Joe more room. You can practice.

Eric leaned his elbows on the counter, smirking at me. What’s good today, baby?

Same things that always are, I said, barely resisting the urge to frown and step away. Joe will help you.

Eric glanced at Joe, clearly curious but unwilling to initiate the conversation.

Joe reached his hand out in greeting. That’s me: the ever-helpful Joe. And you are?

Confused.

At the risk of offending you before giving you a better first impression, I am very sorry your parents weren’t more kind in their name choices.

Eric rolled his eyes.

Joe gave a quirky half smile and explained that he was a relative of Uncle Bruce and would be helping out for a while. So, it’s good to meet you, Confused.

Name’s Eric. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Joe glanced at me, his eyebrows slightly raised, then turned back to him. Well, what can I get you, Eric?

Hamburger.

I pointed to the cigarette. Eric, you know Uncle Bruce’s rules.

Yeah, no smokin’ in The Diner, but you can do it right outside.

Exactly. Put that out, or take it outside, I said, crossing my arms. I didn’t mind the smoke, and sometimes I’d light up too, though I only enjoyed the first few puffs. Still, it was disrespectful to do it indoors when Uncle Bruce had made it clear he didn’t allow it.

Eric let out a smoke-filled breath and smiled. Seems to me Uncle Bruce ain’t here to stop me.

Joe frowned. Eric, listen to Ella.

Eric took a long drag of his cigarette, right as Uncle Bruce stepped out of the back room. Maybe he smelled the smoke.

Uncle Bruce frowned. "Now Eric, I know you know my rule. Put that disgusting thing out, or I will."

Eric snickered. It ain’t disgustin’, Uncle Bruce. Never tried it, did ya?

I have no interest in filling my body with smoke. If the lot of you had any sense at all, you wouldn’t either. He reached across the counter to take the cigarette from Eric, but Eric dodged his grasp.

He took another puff of the cigarette, and started coughing.

With Eric momentarily distracted, Uncle Bruce took possession of the cigarette and brought it to the ashtray outside.

Eric continued to cough, and his eyes began watering. I glanced at Uncle Bruce, who had returned to his position behind the counter. He was holding back laughter. Joe handed Eric a glass of water. Eventually the coughing subsided, but Uncle Bruce’s laughter only grew.

Next time, Uncle Bruce said between chuckles, maybe you’ll listen to my rules.

Eric shrugged, though he was clearly embarrassed. Still waitin’ on that burger, he muttered.

I pulled the meat out of the fridge and put it in a frying pan.

Would you like coffee with that? Joe asked.

Eric gave him an annoyed look.

Joe shrugged. I’ll take that as a no. Fries?

He was clearly miffed. Said a hamburger, he said, and meant a hamburger.

So that's a no to any ice cream, too, Joe said. He typed the price for a hamburger into the register like I’d taught him and told Eric the total.

Because Uncle Bruce sometimes stayed late to precook the meat and shorten the customer’s wait time, the burger was done quickly. I put the meat in a bun and slid the plate to Eric.

Uncle Bruce shook his head, still very amused by Eric’s coughing fit, and returned to his inventions in the back room.

So Ellie—

Ella, I said, annoyed. Why does Eric insist on calling me names that are not my own?

Eric ignored the correction. Let’s go to the gala together on Friday.

I’m going with Nicholas. We always go together; you know that.

Yeah, but it ain’t like the two of you are a couple. You could go with someone else if ya wanted to.

I happen to enjoy going with a friend.

Eric had hardly touched his burger.

Are you finished eating? I can get you a ‘to go’ box if you need it.

Why? You kicking me out? Want me to tell yer boss what lousy service you’re giving?

Yes, there’s the way to a girl’s heart. Threaten her. I shrugged. You didn’t seem hungry, I said, forcing a sweet smile.

Eric shrugged. See ya dolly. He pushed his plate toward me and walked out.

I slid the barely eaten hamburger into the trash. Now you get to learn how to wash a dish, I said to Joe, unable to keep from giggling.

Joe looked at me warily. I'd been expecting at least a smile.

Don’t tell me you don't know how to wash a dish?

I do. Does Eric come in here a lot?

I shrugged. Every day.

And you don’t like it.

Aw, was I that obvious? I put the plate in the sink and started running water over it.

Joe frowned a little.

"I don't see how anyone would like it. But, really, I said quickly, it’s not a big deal."

Joe nodded and took the plate from me. "Believe it or not, I have washed a dish or two before."

Well that’s a relief. I grabbed the washrag before he took over the sink, and started wiping the crumbs off the counter.

Joe washed and dried the dish and put it back in the cupboard. "So…are you going to teach me how to cook, or