The Memory Tree by John R. Little

Author:John R. Little [Little, John R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cemetery Dance Publications
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

I didn’t really plan to follow Marie. It just seemed my feet had their own memory, their own agenda, and before too long, I was caught up with her.

“Marie,” I shouted to her.

She turned with a puzzled look. Her red hair was unkempt and probably uncombed. When she realized who had called her, she looked around guiltily. “You followed me?” she asked in surprise.

“No, no, of course not.” I searched for some reason I would be there. It was two days after her strange phone call. In that time, I remembered Mom always went to pick up the groceries shortly after lunch. Just enough milk and bread to get through to the next day. Maybe some canned salmon or tuna, or other easy and cheap “dinners.” Sometimes a couple of pieces of fruit, but not often. I never learned to like apples, let alone grapefruit or mangos.

“I was on my way to pick up some things,” I finally said.

She nodded. “Me, too.”

We walked together, but I could tell she really was uncomfortable. Her gait was stiff and she stared straight ahead.

“But, I’m glad I ran into you.”

She didn’t answer.

“What did you mean on Saturday?” I asked. “When you called me.”

She slowed her walk a bit and stole a glance at me. “I don’t know what to do, Mr. Johnson.”

“Sam. Please call me Sam.”

“I’m going to lose my son. I don’t know what to do. I just thought . . . you seem to know things. Maybe you know people.”

“People?”

“People who can help him. He was innocent. But, not any more.”

I was getting confused. “What do you mean, Marty was innocent?”

She stopped, took a deep breath, and said, “No, not Marty. My Sammy.”

Marie looked at me with desperation mixed with the tears in her eyes. She knew.

“You have to keep Uncle Bob out of the house,” I said.

That did it. She broke down in tears and collapsed onto me. I held her and then gently guided her to the steps of a nearby office building. We sat together, me holding her, a part of my mind wondering what people would think who were walking by, most of me not caring one whit about that.

She knew what was happening in the room at the top of the stairs.

After a few moments, she wiped her face and moved back a few inches from me. “How do you know about Bob?” she asked. “You’re not even from here.”

“There are Bobs everywhere,” I answered, providing no answer at all. Even to me, it sounded silly. “The important thing is to stop the abuse now.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” she said.

I just looked at her.

“He’ll kill me.”

“Bob?”

“No. Jimmy.”

“He knows about it, too? And does nothing?”

She stood up and started to walk away.

“Marie, wait!”

“No. I shouldn’t have talked to you. There’s something wrong with you, and you have no business interfering with my family.” She raised her voice as she looked straight at me and pointed a finger. “You stay away from me and my sons.

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