Page 109 of Amnesia

Ms. Scarlet pushed through the door midmorning with the same canvas sack she always carried.

“Good to see you, Ms. Scarlet,” I said, giving her a big smile. “What can I help you with today?”

“You know damn well I don’t need any help, young man,” she said in her no-nonsense way. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my own shopping.”

“I just got in a fresh shipment of apples,” I told her. “I’ll be sure to put them out before you come in tonight for your snack.”

“I think I’ll take one now,” she said. “No point in coming back in a couple hours.”

“Of course,” I said, biting back a smile. She just wanted me to run to the back and get them all out now. “I’ll go get them and start stocking.”

“I’ll be in the back. I hope you got some more teas in. The last time I was in, you were low.”

“I sure did. Ordered just the kind you like.”

She made a sound and went off toward the back.

I snickered a little as she went. I loved her sassy attitude. After making sure none of the other shoppers were at the counter for checkout, I went into the back to get the box of apples that was delivered this morning. I’d yet to have time to stock the produce aisle. Thankfully, I’d just stocked the tea and coffee.

Hoisting the cardboard box in my arms, I headed out of the back, turning the corner for the produce section. Over the top of the rounded apples, I noticed someone standing right in my path. I jolted to a stop so fast an apple fell over the side and smacked on the floor, rolling away. I watched it, mesmerized by the way it wobbled as it went, only to stop at the toe of someone’s shoe. Gazing up, I tried to hide my surprise.

It was the widow from Rumor Island. It took me a moment to place her because of the way she was dressed. I barely saw her face. She wore a large hat with a floppy brim. It was the color of wine. Her long, gray hair hung down over her shoulders and back, and she was dressed in a long denim skirt that skimmed the floor. It was cold out, but she was dressed for winter in a turtleneck with a cardigan. She was even wearing a pair of gloves that matched the color of her hat.

“Mrs. West,” I said. “I’m sorry. I nearly ran you over.”

She bent down at picked up the apple. “I’m afraid this one is bruised now.” She didn’t make eye contact. She never did.

Shifting the weight into one arm, I took the offered apple. “No problem,” I said, still surprised to see her. She only came into town a few times a year, and it seemed a little early in the season for her to be stocking up for winter.

“What brings you by?” I asked.

“Supplies,” she answered, gesturing to the shelves.

I smiled. “Of course. Is there anything I can help you find?” She wasn’t holding a basket or even pushing a cart. I couldn’t imagine she’d come off the island if she only needed one or two items.

I felt her gaze from beneath the brim of her hat. “No, thank you.”

“If you need anything, just yell,” I said and moved off to unpack the apples. She was an odd woman. Her weirdness was part of the reason there were so many rumors circling her island.

I tried not to listen to them. I stopped after that night, after a dare took Sadie away.

Some people said they could hear screams echoing from her island in the dead of night. They said she was crazy and would go outside and yell for her husband, the one who died years before. Some people said it was Sadie’s ghost, that she roamed the lake, doomed to relive the night she drowned.

I’d lived on the lake for a little over a year now, and I never heard any screams… thank God. I didn’t think I could take that kind of torment. Always wondering…

The bell on the front door jangled, and I glanced up from the pile of apples I was arranging. Maggie walked in, followed closely by Amnesia. A smile broke out over my face, and all the dark thoughts about islands and screams in the middle of the night dissipated.

“There’s my girl,” I said, abandoning the fruit to sweep her into a hug. She giggled when I lifted her toes up off the floor and kissed her cheek loudly.

“You two,” Maggie said, smiling, “remind me a lot of me and Chris when we were young.”

I sat Am back on her feet, slinging an arm across her shoulder. “It’s not lunchtime already, is it?” I asked, craning my neck for the clock near the front.

“No,” Am said. “Maggie and I needed some groceries. We’re making pasta tonight.”

“She’s becoming quite the cook,” Maggie told me.

Am blushed, all her little freckles turned pink. “I never said it was going to taste good.”

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