Read Online Lost Past by Teresa McCullough, Zachary McCullough - Free Book Online Page B

called. Mary hung up on him and turned off her cell. Linda turned off hers, not wanting to bother Mary, who fell asleep very quickly. Linda saw a bottle of pills next to her bed, with today’s date on it. A quick check on the Internet told her they were tranquilizers and that the dosage was the standard one. Was the doctor aware of how tiny Mary was?
    Linda watched the news and realized she was hungry. The refrigerator was full of casseroles dropped off by a well-meaning community. She picked a hamburger and scalloped potato dish that she knew Mary wouldn’t like. It was bland and fattening, which suited Linda’s mood. She was annoyed when cable TV went out, but not concerned. She changed the sheets on the two beds used by Mary’s family, washed them, and remade the beds. She checked her cell for messages, but couldn’t get a signal.
    In boredom, she went to her father’s study. The file cabinet contained her father’s records, and a memory triggered her curiosity about what she might learn from his old pocket calendars. Although it took her several tries to find the right years, it wasn’t long before she found what she was looking for. For over two years, most Fridays through Mondays were marked off with the label V. They started when Linda was seven.
    “What are you doing?” Mary asked her angrily.
    Linda hadn’t noticed the door open. “Look at these,” she said, ignoring Mary’s tone.
    Mary’s curiosity overcame her criticism and she looked. “That’s strange. Almost no meetings for four days every week. A wedding once. There should be conferences. He always goes to conferences.”
    There were no conferences for a period of almost three years.
    Mary’s research was normally limited to science, but she grasped the idea of looking in other sources. “Let’s look at your mother’s books. Arthur kept them.”
    Her mother’s books were not appointment books, but ledgers. Linda remembered her keeping a calendar on the refrigerator where pages were discarded when the dates passed. Mary pulled out the ledgers. Natalie kept track of every expense: doctor appointments, haircuts, groceries, and gas. Groceries were divided into food, paper, soap, and household items. Even clothing was divided as to w hom it was for. She clearly didn’ t believe in calling an expense “miscellaneous.”
    Natalie belonged to a book club that met twice a month on a Thursday evening, and hired a babysitter, with the cost meticulously noted. Arthur taught two classes every semester, which met on Tuesdays and Thursdays, leaving Thursday evening through Tuesday mornings free to do V, whatever V was.
    “Is there anything scheduled during V?” Mary asked.
    “I don’t think so.” Linda went back to the calendars and found one entry during the V time. “Here’s something. It says ‘citizen ceremony.’”
    “What’s that? Arthur was born in Maryland and has lived here all his life. The ceremony couldn’t have been for him.”
    Linda looked through her mother’s books again, but found nothing new.
                  “Is it significant? Should we tell someone?”
                  Linda knew Mary meant telling proper authorities, but replied, “John. I’d call, but my cell phone isn’t working.” They tried Mary’s, but it didn’t work either, and she had no landline.
    Linda’s desire to talk to John was overcome by her sense of responsibility. She insisted Mary eat before they left, and was amused to note how little food it took to fill up someone who was a size two. Mary always ate lightly, but Linda previously believed it was willpower rather than inclination.
    “Can you drive? I’m a bit shaky. Did I say anything? I wasn’t too clear on what I said before I fell asleep. I’m sorry if I—”
    “You told me how much you love Dad,” Linda interrupted, not wanting to sort through all the things Mary said.
    Mary briefly colored, remembering. “You love him,” Linda repeated. “So do I. Let