Page 1 of The Forgotten Life of Ella Moon
PARTI
THE FORGOTTEN LIFE
“I know you.Iwalked with you once upon a dream.”
–Aurora,SleepingBeauty
CHAPTER1
ELLA
Memories were like stars.Withoutthe stars, the night sky would be empty and dark.Andwithout memories,Ellafelt empty and alone.Shehad hoped this day would be different.Thatsomehow a memory had slipped through the fog of her mind.Butthe only things that filtered through were the sounds of her new life.
A simple life as a maid in a small inn, in a dying village that clung to the shores of a river filled with broken dreams.
Ella slipped from her bed, shaking out the wrinkles from yesterday’s plain linen skirt and shirt.Theremnants of last night’s dreams still clung to her like a spiderweb.Thethin silver strands would get tangled in her everyday life, reminding her she was truly notElla.Butuntil her memories returned,Ella’slife was the only one she had.
And right now,Ella’slife was waking and would need to be tended to.Anythoughts of her forgotten life would have to wait.Therewere morning meals and guests to be served.
Ella finished dressing and hurried down the dimly lit hall.Mostof the guests were still hidden behind closed doors.Theirmuffled voices mingled with the noise from the morning meal being prepared below.Ellabounced down the stairs, catching her reflection in the large tarnished mirror at the end.
“Dammit.”Herfingers worked to twist the pale golden strands of her hair into a braid.Theface that stared back at her looked familiar, but some pieces were not.Shedidn’t know how she had gotten the scar on her lip.Orwhy this morning her eyes shone a bright blue green instead of the stormy gray blue they had been last night.Butthe memory she missed the most was her name.Aname made her someone.Someoneto miss and someone to love.
“If you are done gawking at yourself,Ineed more tea.”
Ella tied her braid off before turning to seeMrs.Clarkholding up a teapot.Herwrinkled face was twisted into a sneer.Mrs.Clarkcould walk to the kitchen and ask herself.ButMrs.Clarkhad a memory, a husband, and belonged amongst these people.
Ella did not.Sheknew that much to be true.
“Of course,Mrs.Clark.I’llhave someone bring you more.”Ellagrabbed the teapot and made her way across the dimly lit dining room to the kitchen.Shepushed open the kitchen door with her hip. “Mrs.Clarkneeds more tea.”Sheset the teapot near the large wood stove in the cramped room already warm from the baking of the day’s bread.Theother two maids of theBlindBadgerInn,SissyandClara, were already busy with the day’s chores.
“How nice of you to join us.Ithought youforgotthere was work to do,”Clarasaid, flipping her heavy braid over her shoulder.
Ella brushed offClara’sremark.Herlack of memory was no secret and the thing everyone remembered about her. “Nottoday,”Ellasaid, pulling a clean apron from the hook.Thetwo girls were the closest things she had to friends.Her“family” was nowAilith, orMrs.A, the owner of theBlindBadger, andLillian,Mrs.A’sdaughter.Theyhad welcomed her and took her in.They, like her clothing, were borrowed until her forgotten life wasn’t forgotten.
“Clara, that isn’t nice.Howwould you feel if you woke up and didn’t remember who you were?”Sissytied a simple cloth over her soft brown curls.
“I wouldn’t come to work here,”Clararetorted. “I’dbuild a better life.”
“It’s not that easy,Clara.Whowould support you?”Sissyasked, pushing the plate of cheese and day-old bread towardsElla.
Clara straightened her spine and stuck her chin out. “Me.I’dbe my own woman.I’dmake up a tale about a dead husband and missing fortune.”Claralooked over atElla. “Ofall the places, why did you come toRiverton?Morrowould have been a better choice.”
Ella shrugged, picking at the food. “Idon’t thinkIhad a choice.”Somewherein a different house, in a different bed, one soft and draped in dark silk,Ellahad fallen asleep in a black ball gown amidst memories.Shewoke on the shores ofRivertonstill in the ball gown, battered and bruised.Anddidn’t remember why.
“I suggest next time you pick somewhere bigger with more opportunity,”Clarasaid over her shoulder on her way to the dining room. “That’swhatIwould do.”
“Ignore her.”Sissyleaned closer toElla. “Shewouldn’t know what to do if she leftRiverton.Cometo think of it,Idon’t think she ever has.”Sissyshrugged and walked over to the stove to makeMrs.Clark’stea. “Mrs.Aleft the list of new guests for you.Itlooks like we will have a full house.Whichmeans more dirty linens and dishes.”
“Great.”Atleast that was something she was incapable of ruining.Ellahad yet to master baking or sewing a simple button on her shirt.
“It won’t be so bad.Wecan gossip.”Sissystepped closer toElla. “IheardMr.ClarkandMrs.Clarkarguing.Apparently, someone has a bit of a gambling problem.”
Of the two girls,Ellawas closest toSissy.WhenEllafirst came toRiverton, she had been heartbroken.Shewas unaware of the reason for, nor could she put a face with, that heartbreak.Fordays she cried over something or someone she didn’t remember.Sissywould come and sit with her and make up stories aboutElla’sforgotten life.
Sometimes they amounted to no more than a fairy tale; others had a firmer grounding in reality.Storiesof a loving mother and siblings desperate to findElla.Butno matter how silly or realSissy’sstories were, none of them felt true.Andnone could explain away the two braceletsEllawore on her left wrist.Thingold bangles that had no clasp, couldn’t be removed, and were so delicateEllahad feared they’d break if she moved.
They had to be a key to who she was.
