Page 28 of When I Forgot Us
Chapter Nine
“Nothing like a good Saturday morning with coffee and friends.” Mrs. Nelson raised her rooster-shaped coffee mug and took a long sip. Her eyes closed. “Mm-mm. That’s good stuff.”
Michelle bit back the grin and concentrated on balancing her coffee on the arm of the chair. The wide, wooden arm slanted downward toward the back of the chair, which kept her in a constant state of apprehension. If she let go of the cup, it would slide. If she held it, she couldn’t flip through the photo album in her lap. Finally, she gave up and joined Mrs. Nelson in enjoying the coffee instead of trying to juggle everything at the same time.
They sat together in the living room, amid a pile of photo albums Mrs. Nelson had pulled from an old wooden armoire and dumped into stacks between the two chairs. Michelle raised her coffee up and examined the bottom for a maker’s mark. Her scalp prickled when she read the name. Did she know what that meant?
Her phone sat on the coffee table to her right, out of reach unless she moved the photo album and stood. Not worth the risk of dropping her cup. At first glance, she’d thought it atrocious,but taking her time now, she discovered the beauty in the hand-crafted ceramic shaped like a haybale. “Do you have many of these?”
“There’s a whole set.” Mrs. Nelson opened her eyes and rocked forward, setting her elbows on her knees. “It’s an old farmyard design my husband bought as a wedding gift.”
“They’re…unique.”
“They’re hideous.” Mrs. Nelson grinned and chortled. “I hated them at first, but they grow on you after a while.” The smile dimmed. “And after I lost him, well…the mugs became something of an homage to his horrible taste in design.”
“You must have loved him a lot.” She turned the haybale mug around in her hands after finishing her coffee. “How do you even keep them clean with all those nooks and crannies?”
“Patience and washing them quick after I’m done with my coffee.” Her knees creaked when she stood. “Speaking of, I’ll do that while you get started.”
“What are you wanting me to do?” She’d thought Mrs. Nelson wanted help organizing the pictures, but the stacks of albums indicated that work was done.
Mrs. Nelson angled her head toward the armoire. “There are loose pictures in there that belong in the albums. I need help figuring out which album they belong in. All the albums have the year written on the side, and I’ve been meticulous about dating pictures. It should be an easy task. Time-consuming, but easy enough.”
“Ah.” Michelle handed over her cup and eased the photo album onto her chair. “I’ll put the loose pictures on the coffee table. We can go through them easier from there.” But before she did that, she needed to organize the photo albums by year.
The first album had a cracked red cover with a black-and-white photo of a couple in wedding attire. She examined it, then checked the date on the side. Fifty years ago. Was that Mrs.Nelson and her husband? The facial features looked similar.You’re not here to gawk at other people’s pictures.She tried to ignore the pulse of longing that spiked through her heart. What stories did these pictures hold?
She set the album upright, then added the next chronological one, and the next, until she had them in a perfect line from oldest to newest. Now for the loose pictures. Her palms did that tingling thing when she grasped the wooden knobs and pulled the doors open.
Her nose twitched in anticipation of a musty smell, but a rush of orange eased through her, followed by hints of cedar. The armoire had two shelves, one empty and the other loaded down with stack after stack of loose photos.
Michelle’s stomach dipped. It would take days to sort all this out.Not like you have anything else to do.True. She was no closer to regaining her memories and had zero desire to return to a life that made no sense. Her savings allowed her to stay in Blue River a while longer before she’d be forced to make a critical decision and look for a job either here or back in the city. No more banking jobs. The mere thought of it sent a roil of disgust that strangled her.
She grabbed the stack of pictures furthest to her left, thinking maybe Mrs. Nelson had tucked them away from left to right as they were developed. It brought a sense of nostalgia to hold printed photos in her hands. Most people lived in the digital era, their entire lives in their phone gallery and social media.
The grainy texture across the pictures labeled them as old even before she flipped them over one by one and read the dates on the back. She carried them to the coffee table and splayed them out in order.
“Ah, I see you found my rodeo years.” Mrs. Nelson picked up the topmost picture and smiled, her thumb tracing the lines and pressing into the brittle corners. “I’ll put these away while youcontinue sorting.” She found the appropriate album and sank into her chair with a nostalgic look.
“You were a rodeo queen?”
“Yes. Quite good at it too.” Mrs. Nelson flipped a photo around to show Michelle. The image showed a woman on horseback, carrying a flag as she raced around the arena. “This was before Chase was born. Before I married and moved to the ranch.”
“Did you stop after you were married?” It wasn’t a surprising concept. Most women in that era had left their jobs—if they’d had them—to take over the house once they married.
As long as they were happy about the situation, Michelle didn’t judge their decisions. It wasn’t what she wanted for her life, but that didn’t make it wrong for others.
“Gracious no.” Mrs. Nelson slid the photo into the album and smoothed the clear static sheet back into place. “I kept riding for years. Didn’t stop until God told me it was time to hang up the saddle and start something new.”
Michelle dragged the next stack of photos closer and fanned through them. Better quality photos, thicker paper. The newer photos depicted a beaming man and woman holding a baby between them. “I found Chase’s baby pictures.” She worked through them again, taking her time and watching the progression of baby Chase turning into a toddler, then a young, school-age boy.
That smile of his that she’d become so familiar with showed even then. It lit up his entire face and crinkled his eyes like he couldn’t do anything less than let the whole world know he’d found absolute happiness.
She handed that stack to Mrs. Nelson. “He was an adorable kid.” And he’d grown into a kind, compassionate man who made her wonder what kind of life might exist if she took the next step and considered giving in to the attraction that bounced aroundher insides every time she looked at or thought about him. She’d thought he felt it too, but his recent actions rebutted the idea. Unless he was trying to give her space and not pressure her when she already had so much going on. It was the kind of thing he’d do.
Better if she didn’t get ahead of herself.
The next stack of photos continued the chronological trend, the photo on top showing Chase several years later. He stood in front of a brown horse with a blue ribbon on its bridle and held a shining trophy over his head. Her heart skipped, then jumped into overdrive. Her mouth went dry, her throat tight.
