When she was gone, I glanced around at the paintings on the walls (mostly landscapes), smiled at the huge basket of dog toys, and nearly tripped over a half-chewed bone. Clearly, it was Elmo who ran this place.
The kitchen was open, an L-shape, with an island facing the living room. The countertops were stone, and the cabinets were white, each door with a different-colored knob. On the counter was a coffee pot, a toaster, and a few other things filled with utensils. The appliances were all white, and there was a calendar on the front of the fridge.
Off to the side in the kitchen was a wide archway that led out into what looked like an eating area. I went toward it because it was so bright. The entire room was made up of windows, and a round table sat in the center. The table was brown, but the four chairs were all painted various colors. The windows literally went down to the wooden floor, taking full advantage of the view of a beautiful backyard filled with trees that painted the sky with autumn shades.
The sound of paws scampering across the floor and Maggie laughing made me smile. I spun just as a little white fur ball streaked into the room and circled me. He disappeared under a chair, from where his white face peeked out, and a very large bark filled the room.
“Elmo!” Maggie scolded. “This is Amnesia. She’s our friend.”
“Hi, Elmo,” I said and dropped nearby and held out my hand. He barked twice more, then stopped, watching me carefully as he inched his way closer and closer. He was a cute little thing with long hair, mostly white but with patches of brown and black. His dark eyes stood out among all the white fur and his nose was little but seemed to work overtime.
“Hey,” I said when he got close enough to sniff me. “Good boy.”
Elmo wagged his tail and let me stroke his head and ears.
“Give him some cheese and he’ll be your friend for life,” Maggie said, watching us.
I giggled, and Elmo lay down and showed me his belly for rubs. He was warm and soft, his belly round and pink. I totally saw why he ran this house and realized that soon, he would likely own me, too.
“He’s adorable,” I said, standing. Elmo jumped up and moved to stand at my feet.
“Aww, he likes you.” Maggie approved. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”
The tour didn’t take long, but the house was fairly big, with four bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. The fourth bedroom was going to be mine. It was downstairs, along with another family room with a TV, laundry room, and entrance to the garage.
“I thought to give you this room down here,” Maggie explained as we went down the stairs, “because it has a TV, and I assumed you might enjoy that.”
“That was thoughtful,” I said, gazing around the lower level, which was just as comfortable as the upstairs.
“The laundry room is through there.” She pointed. “And so is the linen closet with a bunch of towels and blankets. Also, through there is a bathroom, the one you can use. It has a shower and everything you’ll need.”
Just on the other side of the staircase was a doorway Maggie led me through.
“Here it is. I hope it’s okay.”
The room was large, almost running the width of the basement. The space was shaped like a rectangle with a small window facing the street to my right and, to my left, a set of French doors that led out onto a patio in the backyard. There were more bookshelves in here, filled with books, and a bed against the wall by the door. It was covered in a thick, white comforter, but over that was a colorful quilt that for some reason made my eyes tear up. Across from the bed was the television on a wooden dresser.
Over by the French doors and the bookcase was another green velvet chair with a blanket draped over the back. Beside it was a small round wooden table. It was a nice chair to sit in and read.
I had no idea if I liked to read, but I wanted to find out.
“This is all for me?” I said, gazing around. It seemed huge and almost too nice. “It’s too much.”
“Hush now. It is not. It’s a good space. You can sit out back and read if you want.” She motioned to the doors. “And you have your own bathroom down here.”
Swallowing thickly, I turned, catching Maggie’s hands. Once again, I felt as if I might cry. “Thank you.”
“Don’t go making me cry,” Maggie said, sniffling.
“I can’t help it. You didn’t have to do this. You’ve basically taken in a stranger.”
She glanced away, dotting at the corners of her eyes to keep the tears at bay. “You aren’t a stranger,” she said. “I’ve been visiting you for weeks.”
“I won’t let you down.” I vowed.
Maggie smiled. “Oh, honey, there isn’t anything you could do that would let me down.”
I set my bag on the floor near the bed. It was strange being here, but it would likely feel strange everywhere because nothing was familiar.
“How about some tea? Do you like tea?” Maggie asked, moving to the door.
“I have no idea.” I laughed.
“Well, c’mon then. Let’s find out.”
I followed her back up to the kitchen, where she made two cups of hot tea and added honey to both mugs. As she did, she told me this was the best way to drink it. We carried our mugs out into the eating area made of windows and sat down.
“This room is beautiful,” I murmured, gazing around. “I feel like I’m in some kind of treehouse. Like we’re outside.”
“My late husband built this room for me. I love to sit out here, especially in the spring and fall. The scenery in Maine really can’t be matched.”
“I think you must be right.” I agreed and took a sip of the warm liquid. It was a deep flavor and sweet with the honey. I took another sip.
Maggie watched me. “Good?”
“Very.”
“I have to ask.” She began, sitting forward a little. “Have you remembered anything at all? Did the drive here maybe spark some memories?”
Why would the drive to Maggie’s house spark memories?
I must have looked confused because she hurried to say, “You know, just the new scenery. Maybe something brought something back.”
My body slouched back in the chair. “Nothing. I still don’t remember anything.” I didn’t mention the flash I had of hair falling to the floor and the sense of despair that came with it. I didn’t know if that was real or what it meant. Seemed no point in mentioning something that only lasted a few seconds.
“Perhaps with time,” she said, almost sad.
“I’m not sure.” I hedged.
A quizzical look came over her face. “Do you want to remember?”
“I’m not sure about that either. I’m sort of afraid to.” I admitted.
“Are you still having dreams about the night someone tried to kill you?”
I nodded. “Sometimes. But it’s always the same, and I never see a face.”
“You know what I think?” Maggie said, a lift to her voice.
“What?”
“I think when you stop trying to remember, you will. Maybe just getting out, seeing the town will distract you.”
“Eddie’s showing me around tomorrow,” I told her. A smile graced my face. “I’m looking forward to it.”