The Memory Keeper

Chapter 5

By the time Natalie made it off the train back in Coldton, Piper stretching her arms high over her head behind her, the sky was darkening. The girls had stayed out too long, skipping rocks on the bay, climbing boulders over the tumbling waters of the river, which gurgled and rushed from the ocean like a never-ending song.

Then Piper thought it would be funny, having still been tipsy with whiskey, to throw an extra, worthless copper coin into one of the wells, claiming if she made a wish, it would come true.

They had locked arms afterwards. "What did you wish for?" Natalie asked.

"If I tell you, then it will not come true. Don't you know that rule?"

"I am tired of rules and superstitions. Don't you know that by now?" She looked down at the little wrist watch she wore while out and about. "We really ought to head back now. I told Peter Sheinfeld I would be back by four, and it is less than an hour till."

Now, it was an hour after four. The sun dipped lower and lower in the sky while Natalie and Piper split ways at the corner where Natalie's office sat, between the train station route and a blackened alleyway, its uneven cobblestone path catching the rest of the sun like dying candle flames. Piper left for her own home, a rented house in the neighborhood just west of the Coldton palace and all its marble and flint glory.

Natalie and Piper had passed it a few times together while out on a sprint. They had stood outside the tall iron gate, woven almost as though intentionally with vines budding little blue and red berries. Through the bars, they spied the palace's massive green lawn, crisp and dotted with clumps of rose and barberry bushes. The drive was made of smooth, sparkling granite, leading straight up to the marble steps, breaking only to encircle the large stone water fountain, shaped beautifully of women in loose fitted robes holding large clay pots, in which sparkling streams of water sprouted. Though they had no faces, Natalie imagined they would all be smiling at each other, simply happy to be eternally beautiful, with pots of eternally cascading water.

After unlocking her door and slipping inside, she moved across the room to sit at her desk, not bothering to remove her snug wool trench coat and earmuffs. She felt as though she had waited an eternity, until, to her great horror and relief, footsteps clattered onto the step outside the front door. A moment later, someone knocked and pushed it open, taking their hat from their head.

It was Peter Sheinfeld.

"You're late," Natalie said, not unkindly, and stood up, hands braced on the edge of her desk.

"I am. Actually, I was here earlier, at four, but you seemed to be away. I waited, then got a little hungry." He smiled ruefully. "There is a café I like. They make extravagant sandwiches and soups.

"I think I know of the place." She could not suppress shivering in the cold air the open door let in, and instantly upon noticing it, Peter closed it.

"I am sorry I was away," she continued. "My assistant and I had to run a few errands, and I was gone longer than I had anticipated." She offered an apologetic smile, but it would and could not express the truer, deeper regret she felt missing his first call. Perhaps he would have invited her to the café with him after the session.

No, do not think about that. That is not why you are helping him.

"Please, take a seat," she said, moving around the desk, yanking the collar of her coat tighter around her neck.

"You are still cold." Peter looked around, and seemed to notice the fireplace for the first time. While he knelt by the hearth and opened the chain and glass doors, Natalie watched without protest.

He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and snatched a poker from the wrought iron rack. After lighting a match over the coals, he shuffled them around with the poker, spraying sparks, his free elbow resting on his left knee. With a little smile in Natalie's direction, he said, "See? That was easy now, wasn't it?"