My future.
Now the woman I had mourned was standing in front of me.
Alive.
“You let Ruth grow up believing you were gone,” I said. “You let me raise her while she cried for you.”
“I saved her,” Joan whispered.
I stopped.
“What did you say?”
“The night of the fire,” she explained. “I carried Ruth out through the side door. The dog followed us. I left her far enough away from the house and told him to stay beside her.”
My chest tightened.
“So that’s how she was found in the field?”
Joan nodded.
It was the answer to a question that had haunted me for years.
“Then why didn’t you stay with her?”
“There was another woman inside.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
“A woman from work. She had just moved to town and was staying with me temporarily. You never met her. She came along because I didn’t want to make the drive alone with a baby.”
Joan wrapped her arms around herself.
“She was sleeping in the back room. After I carried Ruth outside, I went back for her.”
Her voice became unsteady.
“I remember the smoke. I remember trying to reach the hallway. After that, everything disappeared.”
She looked down at her trembling hands.
“The next thing I remember clearly is waking in a hospital. My purse and identification had burned. I couldn’t speak properly for a while. I was confused, badly injured, and unable to tell anyone who I was.”
I tried to follow her explanation, but anger kept rising through me.
“By the time you remembered, we had already buried the other woman?”
“Yes.”
“When did your memory return?”
“Not all at once. At first, there were flashes. A baby crying. Your face. Our childhood home. Then more came back over the next few weeks.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“Eventually, I remembered everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“You remembered your daughter?”
She nodded.
“You remembered me?”
Another nod.
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
Joan’s face crumpled.
“I was afraid.”
For illustrative purposes only
“Fear Doesn’t Explain Eight Years”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“Afraid of what?”
“That people would blame me for the other woman’s death. I had gone back inside for her, but I was the one who survived.”
“You were trying to rescue her.”
“I knew that logically, but I didn’t feel innocent. I thought everyone would ask why she died and I lived.”
Her fingers moved to the scars on her neck.
“I was burned. I couldn’t sleep. I had panic attacks. I hated seeing myself in the mirror.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I thought Ruth would be frightened of me.”
“She was a baby.”
NEXT PAGE
