Lost memories, p.10
Lost Memories, page 10
“Fair enough.”
“Fair enough, Wayne.”
“Wayne.” It was a nice name. Elise marveled that she had never met anyone with that name before. It felt like a fresh slate without any preconceived notions. He held her gaze for a moment with those glittering blue eyes. It was almost too powerful.
After a moment, Elise took charge of her own wound, mopping up her blood and depositing the cotton balls in the trash.
“It’s kind of a rush out there,” Wayne said. “Do you mind if I...?”
“Of course! Don’t get behind on my account,” Elise said hurriedly.
“You’ll come out for a cup of coffee after,” Wayne said.
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
“It’s not,” he returned with a wink. “I have to make sure the slasher victim is well enough to walk.”
Elise remained in the silence of his office. Slowly, she stretched a bandage over the gash on her knee. It seemed deep but nothing that required stitches. When she finished, she glanced around the office. What were the chances she’d stumble upon this guy again? What were the chances that he was this kind and generous?
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Elise. He’s probably this nice to all his guests. He literally works in hospitality.
But he had said that he had been out of the romance game for a while, hadn’t he?
Maybe that meant he was married and had given up on the romance part of it all?
No. Elise had noticed enough about him. There hadn’t been a wedding band.
Why had she been so aware of that?
Elise stood and again tried out the weight on her leg. It tinged a little but otherwise held up just fine. She probably wasn’t hiking a lot in the next days, but she felt as though she had seen a lot of the inner portion of the island, anyway. Good thing she’d gotten it in before she’d injured herself.
When Elise appeared back in the main coffee shop area, she allowed herself a moment to actually acknowledge the beauty of the place. The windows were floor to ceiling, and the tables seemed antique hardwood. The paintings lining the walls were apparently all from local artists. Wayne stood behind the counter, his massive hands stretching out over it as he listened to yet another in a long line of orders. Two employees in their early twenties buzzed around him, brewing up coffee and tapping beautiful croissants on china plates.
Now, this was a coffee shop.
Somehow, it had far more charm than anything Elise had seen in Los Angeles.
She paused for a long time, half-praying that Wayne would turn his head back toward her and greet her again. But the line grew past the counter and turned at the door. Wayne ended up trapped for a good twenty to thirty minutes longer, and Elise sensed he’d just tried to be nice with that whole “make sure you’re all right” business.
He had been kind. Nice. An upstanding gentleman.
She didn’t want to force him into anything else.
Chapter Fifteen
The rain let up a bit and seemed a kind of shimmer, the kind that illuminated little rainbows across the pavement. Elise walked down the sidewalk of Main Street with her head in the clouds. That man. The way he had cared for her left her feeling overwhelmed.
Of course, after all Sean had done, it stood to reason that she was overwhelmed by something like that. At this point, the bar was on the ground.
Still...
When Elise reached the Willow Grove Guesthouse again, she remained drenched and sticky and bandaged. Connell looked on the verge of a heart attack.
“What on earth! I wondered what happened to you. You were gone forever,” he said. He hustled around the side of the front desk and heaved a sigh at her wet hair and mussed makeup.
“It’s okay. I took a tumble, though, to put it lightly,” Elise said with an ironic laugh. “I’m just going to shower and head out again in a bit.”
“You’ll let me know if you need anything, won’t you?” he insisted.
“Of course!” Elise had heard stories of Midwestern hospitality, but this was almost too much. Californians weren’t like this, at least, not in her experience—and certainly not in Calabasas.
Elise headed back to her room, stripped off her wet hiking clothes, and stepped into the shower, careful to keep her bandaged leg out of the stream. Her blond tresses caked down her back as she tilted her head upward.
This was certainly a strange start to her time on Mackinac Island.
When she finished, she dressed in a simple black dress, donned a pair of sandals, and dried her hair somberly, grateful to have her old California soft, loose curls back in the wake of the rain. When she stepped back out of the bathroom, her brain fizzled out.
She was starving.
Her backpack still held that freshly baked, now-drenched scone. She had to find another option. Luckily, the bed and breakfast’s breakfast portion ran till eleven. She sat near the window overlooking the water and ate eggs smeared with goat cheese, a biscuit, and sautéed mushrooms. When she turned her head, she spotted Connell watching her.
“I was just so worried about you!”
Elise rolled her eyes inwardly. “It tastes delicious!” she returned.
“Oh, good. Eat as much as you like. Our other guests headed out this morning. You’re the only one left today!”
Elise thanked Connell as he removed her plate and rushed toward the kitchen. She had the strongest instinct to take the plate herself and clean it up, as though she’d just spent the night at a friend’s house and wanted to do her part.
The clouds shifted overhead, breaking up like cotton candy in water. Eggshell blue sky peeked through, then became that perfect orb again. As Elise stepped out, the sun reflected across the puddles in a way that reminded her of a painting.
When Elise stepped into the foyer of the Mackinac Island Public Library, a librarian stepped out from behind the counter and beamed at her. “Hello! I wondered if I would get any visitors after the blue skies returned. Rainy days are perfect for libraries. Sunny days—not so much.”
Elise smiled. “This place is beautiful. I love the blue walls.” The walls within the library had been painted the most glorious blue, illuminated all the more with the bright sunlight peeking through the windows.
“We like them,” the librarian said. “Can I help you with something?”
“Um. Yes. I heard a rumor there was an exhibition for the film made here in 1979.”
The librarian tapped her nose twice. “We don’t get questions about that very often anymore. There’s been talk of removing the exhibition. Christopher Reeve isn’t even the Superman everyone talks about anymore.”
“Who do people think is Superman?” Elise asked.
“I don’t know all these actor names anymore,” the woman said, heaving a sigh. “All I can tell you is, I stopped paying attention to pop culture a long time ago, and I’ve been happier ever since. Follow me. The exhibition is right this way.”
They swept through the big blue belly of the library toward the far back wall. Once there, they stepped through a thick wooden door and into a room of dark-ruby walls, framed photographs, and a hanging banner that read: Somewhere in Time Wrap Party 1979.
“Wow. It’s like stepping somewhere back in time...” Elise said, trying out the joke.
The librarian had either heard that joke a million times or refused to laugh at it. Either way, she made no noise.
“Here we are,” she said. “As you can see, we have numerous photographs from the set, along with the very photograph that Christopher Reeve falls in love with.” She pointed toward the far wall where the gorgeous photo of an old-world Jane Seymour hung. “There are also a number of newspaper articles written about the filming in that book there.” She pointed at a large tome located on an antique desk. “And that desk was actually featured in the film, as well. I believe Jane Seymour sat at it during at least two scenes.”
Elise nodded. “Thank you.” She then blinked at the woman, willing her to leave.
“Can I help you find what you’re looking for?” the woman asked.
“I don’t think so. I just want to, um, dig into it. You know?”
“Okay.” The woman looked momentarily irritated. “Whatever you think is best.”
When Elise had the space to herself, she walked toward the large collage of old photographs and studied each of them separately. Her heart thudded throughout her search. She felt as though she peered down a very long tunnel and into her mother’s past.
Oh, these people on set. The actors, the stagehands, the tech people, the director. They all seemed so vibrant, so beautiful, so particularly late '70s with their funny haircuts and their silly styles. Just gazing at them left Elise nostalgic for another time.
How she wished she really could step back into time and see them. How she wished she could meet her mother again.
It took a number of minutes before Elise finally spotted her mother. In the photo, Jane Seymour sat in full costume at the very desk displayed in the library’s exhibition. Her hair was fluffed up beautifully, and her eyes were turned back toward a youthful, gorgeous Allison Darby. They seemed to share a joke together—an acclaimed actress seated with a girl she very much thought would “make it” in the business.
Beneath the photo, these words were written:
Jane Seymour chats with her personal assistant on a particularly long day of shooting.
That was all her mother was given in the photograph.
The title of personal assistant.
Gosh.
That hurt worse than Elise’s spill across the pavement earlier that day.
But also, this was the first physical proof that Allison Darby had spent these months on Mackinac Island with Jane Seymour on the set for Somewhere in Time. That was strange in and of itself.
None of the photos on the wall were labeled with the stagehands’ names. This was a serious problem. Elise needed Dean’s last name if she was going to press forward at all. Plus, she remained starved for more signs of her mother in their midst. This led her to the various tomes at the desk. They were her last resort, and they had enough material to last several hours.
Probably, the librarian would forget about her.
Slowly, Elise pieced through the articles, the spare photographs taken by a Mackinac Island historian, and the spare letters and things donated by residents of Mackinac Island throughout the filming. It seemed that the residents adored the fact that Somewhere in Time had chosen Mackinac Island for its main set so much that they’d wanted to record almost every portion of that era. As Elise was from Los Angeles, this was a funny thing for her; everywhere she had ever been, she’d seen movie sets and people who worked for Hollywood. She had never treasured it in the way she now felt it had always meant to be treasured.
Movie magic. It was a very beautiful thing.
Sometime after one in the afternoon, she found a photograph labeled “staging company” on the back. This photograph was located in a pile of others that seemed to collect all the stagehand boys together. There were various snapshots of an attractive twentysomething guy carrying a prop or arranging boxes and grinning the kind of grin that only people had in old photographs. It was the kind of smile that suggested they would never grow older.
One of these photographs struck Elise as particularly odd.
The second she saw it, she was reminded of a photograph she had recently taken of Brad at the Malibu Pier.
In it, the twentysomething guy hung onto the rungs of a ladder with a cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked like he was up to something, as though he had just cracked a joke that might have gotten him in trouble. Elise knew the look well. It was the very one Brad wore all the time.
Could this possibly be him?
With a shaking hand, she turned the photograph around to discover the scrawled words: Dean Swartz. 1979.
Here he was.
Her father.
She dropped the photograph, but it didn’t change a thing. Dean Swartz continued to laugh up at her as if to say, “Here I am. I’ve been here all along. Where have you been?”
Chapter Sixteen
Elise was halfway down Main Street before she realized she had stolen the photograph. She stopped dead in her tracks and remembered it, then stuffed it between the pages of her mother’s diary. It had been a long-forgotten photograph in a pile of similarly long-forgotten pictures. Nobody had looked at them in years.
It was a crime without consequences. Wasn’t it?
Still, Elise had never stolen anything. Had she lost her mind?
As she stood there, simmering in guilt, she glanced to the right to spot a poster fluttering in the late-summer breeze. The poster had been torn apart slightly in the rain. Still, she could make out an image of the Grand Hotel itself, the hotel her mother had stayed in during the filming, and the one featured in the film itself.
AUGUST 25 8 P.M.
SONGS OF THE SUMMER
FULL ORCHESTRA
FREE ADMISSION
Elise tilted her head skyward. That blue sky remained, twinkling up there, mocking her. It had already been a tremendously full day. A quiet night, feasting on the sounds of a full orchestra beneath the splendorous sight of the Grand Hotel didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounded wonderful.
With many hours left to go, Elise decided to shop for something special to wear. The town was stocked with adorable little shops, most of them filled to the brim with fun-loving ladies with their dear friends and loved ones. Elise eyed one group of women around her age as she flicked through some dresses toward the side of a boutique.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow, Anna,” one of the women shrieked to another, gripping her wrist.
“I know. I never thought it would happen,” Anna gushed.
“It’s such a rush, but I can see it in your eyes. You love him,” the friend or sister or cousin observed.
Anna’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Come on. I need you to focus,” she teased. “Which necklace works better with the dress? This one or this one?” She lifted two delicate pieces of jewelry into the light.
Elise felt a stab of sadness. She wished that Haley or Mia or Penny was shopping alongside her. As it stood, she was on a secret mission in a part of the world she had never seen before. They were more or less a million miles away.
“You should really try on that dark green one,” a woman said suddenly.
Elise’s cheeks burned. One of the women in Anna’s group had noticed Elise’s browsing, and very probably, the fact that she couldn’t keep her eyes away from them. She gave the woman a half-smile, one that translated just how embarrassed she was.
“I’m sorry. I was just curious about the jewelry.”
“What? No. Don’t be sorry!” the woman insisted. “I actually own this shop, and the minute I saw you, I thought of that dress you have there in your hands. Your coloring is perfect for it.”
Elise’s smile widened. Midwestern people were really unreal, weren’t they?
“That is so sweet to say,” Elise said.
“You’re shopping alone?” the woman asked.
“Yes. I have to admit, I was a bit envious of your group over there,” Elise said. Why have I begun to tell everyone on earth my business? Am I turning into a crazy person?
“Don’t be envious of us. Join us! Try on that dress this second,” Anna, the bride, insisted. “If you need an audience, let us be it.”
Elise chuckled. “You’re way too nice.”
“We insist,” the owner of the shop said. “I promise you, that thing will look like a dream on you.”
Elise shuffled into the dressing room after a few more prods. Once behind the curtain, she heaved a sigh and whispered inwardly, “What are you doing?” Still, when in Rome—err, Michigan.
Elise swept the dark green dress over her shoulders and then buttoned it up the front. It hugged her curves beautifully and then flung out toward her knees with a gorgeous flourish. After a moment, she yanked the curtain open to reveal herself.
“Oh my gosh. I knew it,” the boutique owner said.
It seemed Elise’s cheeks now burned more or less all the time.
“It’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” Anna said. “You look amazing. Do you have plans?”
“Kind of,” Elise said. I was going to go alone to the Grand Hotel to listen to music.
“If you have plans, wear that dress. Heck, wear it every day for the rest of your life, just in case something magical happens,” the boutique owner said.
Elise paid for the dress and thanked the woman for her goodwill. She then turned and wished Anna good luck. “You’re going to make such a beautiful bride.”
Anna laughed. “At forty-one, I never imagined I would hear that.”
“You’re never too old for anything,” Elise said, remembering that her daughter had tried to tell her she was too old to run away. “Enjoy every second.” She certainly was.
Elise donned the dress later that night and headed back down the street in the other direction toward the Grand Hotel. Before she left, Connell whistled, teasing her.
“Where are you off to all dressed up?”
“I’m going to the Grand,” she said.
“Oh! For the concert series,” he said. “Good idea. Have you been up that way yet?”
“No. First time.”
“You’re in for a treat.”
When Elise spotted the Grand Hotel from the far right side, her heart dropped into her stomach. It didn’t look like anything she had ever seen before in California. It was formidable and stark white, a place where important decisions were made or important things were said, and where dramatic affairs happened or people fell in gut-wrenching levels of love. Elise wondered what little twenty-four-year-old Allison Darby had thought of the place.
Staff members waited on either side of the concert-style seating. A younger boy asked Elise if she wanted to sit up front. She shook her head sheepishly. “I prefer the back.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think the sound will be just as good. Maybe better,” Elise replied.
