Later that night when Derek and Heidi were home and the children were asleep, they sat together on the couch.
"You seemed to have found a new burst of energy tonight," he said as she sat staring at the fire.
"I'm feeling better. I told you I'd get better."
"That's good. And that pie of yours was a big hit."
"Denke, I was pleased with it, too."
While he read The Budget, one of the Amish newspapers, she sank back into the couch and pulled the crocheted blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over her legs. She thought back to the phone call she’d made to Janelle. If her best friend didn't know her, maybe she was in this life for good. She was worn out from trying to think how she got there and how she would get back. It would've been nice to have just one person in her life in whom she could confide. She gave Derek a sideways glance wondering if she should tell him, and quickly abandoned that idea.
Heidi couldn’t confide in her mother, the woman who had cut her off when she'd left the community. If only she'd had siblings, she might've been able to talk with one of them. A huge pop from sap in the log on the fire made Heidi jump, causing Derek to chuckle at the way she reacted.
Then and there she had to accept the fact that maybe she had hit her head and lost her memory, and the life in New York was not real. All those memories and all those people she knew they weren't real. She'd imagined it all when she hit her head, and that bump on the head had wiped out her true memories and replaced them with that other life. She hugged the crocheted blanket close to herself while questioning her sanity. This had to be her real life.
And if this was her real life, she had never climbed on that bus. She’d never become successful and she had never opened her own agency. Could she have imagined her other life because she was deeply unhappy with this one? It seemed unlikely, since she had three beautiful children, and a caring man she was in love with. She glanced sideways at Derek again, so thankful he was the same warm-hearted man he had been as a teenager.
Her life in New York, whether real or imagined, wasn't perfect by any means; she could see that now. Her friends were mostly business acquaintances except for Janelle. At the end of the day she went home to an empty apartment. Smiling, as she looked around, she realized she wanted to call this humble house her home.
"What are you smiling about?” He reached over and pulled her close to him, and she giggled. He kissed her gently just like when they were courting. She pulled back a bit; she wasn't used to being kissed, at least she didn't think she was.
"I'm just thinking about my life."
He folded up his newspaper and put it beside him. "And?"
"We've got a good life."
"I think so."
Just then Molly appeared at the foot of the stairs.
"What have we told you about getting out of bed?" Derek asked sternly.
"I need a drink of water."
"Go back up to bed, and I'll bring one for you."
When Derek got up and went to the kitchen, Molly stared at her.
"Go to bed, Molly." She blew her a kiss. "You heard what Dat said."
"Gut nacht, Mamm." Molly smiled, turned and walked slowly up the stairs.
She watched her husband hurry up the stairs with a glass of water for Molly and remembered back to her own childhood when she’d always find one excuse after another to delay bedtime. It wasn’t lost on her that Derek had automatically gotten up to get the water for their daughter. Many of her acquaintances were married to men who expected them to do everything with the children and the household, so she was pleased Derek wasn’t that kind of man.
Derek sat back down beside her. “What were we saying?”
“I forget.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Christmas day. Are you still happy to go to my parents’ haus most of the day?”
Relief washed over her. That would be much less trouble than her having people there for the day. “Jah, that’s fine.”
“And can you make that special dish you always make?”
She slowly nodded figuring, hoping, Molly might help her out with that one by telling her what her special dish was. “Of course. So, we’ll have breakfast here, and then go to your parents?”
“That’s the plan, after the girls open their presents.”
Heidi had no idea what their presents were or even if they had bought them yet. She’d never liked puzzles or guessing games and now she was in the middle of an awkward puzzle. “I must remember to get wrapping paper.” She hoped that would prompt him to talk about the gifts and whether they’d been purchased or made yet.
“I thought you and the girls would be making the paper like you usually do.”
“Making the paper? I’m not sure …” Now she was in big trouble. She had no idea how to make paper.
“Drawing pictures on the paper.” He gave her a quizzical look.
“Ah, yes. I’ll have to find out if they want to do that this year. They might be getting a little old for that now.” She was relieved when he slowly nodded.
He moved closer, then put his arm around her. Heidi rested her head against his shoulder. It brought back all the feelings she'd had for Derek all those years ago. She closed her eyes and listened to the crackling of the logs burning in front of them. The warm cozy house was a far cry from the cold steel and white marble apartment with its clutter-free clean lines. If she were back home now, she’d be watching the TV. Right at this moment, she much preferred to be cuddling up to Derek and facing the dancing flames in the fireplace.
In her teen years, she’d never intended to stay in the Amish community. Derek had chased her until she agreed to date him and then she had fallen in love with him, but she was sure she’d decided not to let him stand in her way of her dreams. She was certain she got on that bus because she remembered it. She’d waited until everyone had boarded, then she kissed Derek, boarded, and headed to the back seat. When the bus drove off, she definitely remembered she had kept waving to Derek and he'd kept waving to her until the bus turned the corner.
“Do you think Molly was truly thirsty?”
He chuckled. “We forgot to leave her cup of water on the nightstand.”
“Ah. We must remember next time.”
“At least she’s over those dreadful nightmares she used to have,” he said.
She bit her lip, not remembering any of it. “Jah, they were truly awful.”
“You will be all right if I go to work tomorrow, won’t you?”
“At the store?”
“Jah.”
“We’ll be fine. We were okay today making the Christmas cookies and pie.”
“If you need me to come back, I’m only a phone call away.”
She reached up and touched his arm where it rested on her shoulder. “Truly, we’ll be fine.”
He looked doubtful and his next words confirmed the look on his face. “Do you think your mudder should look after them again? Just for another day?”
“Nee. I’ll be fine. Stop fussing.”
“She doesn’t mind.”
“I know, but everything’s okay. Stop worrying so much.”
He leaned down and kissed her lightly on her forehead. “Shall we go to bed?”
“I might sit up for a while.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just a little while.”
“Okay.” He took his arm away from her shoulders, stood up and then took up the poker, rearranged the fire, and placed on another two logs. “There. That should keep it going until morning.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before he headed upstairs.
Heidi held her head in her hands, wishing that her memory would come back. She couldn’t remember their wedding or the births of the children. Surely, they had been the most memorable of days. Then there was the day her father died, and his funeral. She remembered none of it. Nothing.
She closed her eyes tightly and tried her best to remember everything she’d forgotten. The last memory of Derek was when she was leaving him to become a model in New York. But then she remembered getting on the bus. Was that the point at which her life split into two parallel universes? Two lives running concurrently? If she was in this life, was she also in the other? Who was running her company? It was then that she realized her theory of parallel universes wasn’t what was taking place. Janelle didn’t even know who she was and if she was living another life in another reality, Janelle would’ve known who she was.
Going by the theory that if there were two possibilities of something, the most likely explanation was the simpler one, Heidi figured the simplest explanation was that she had lost her memory. The bump on the head had caused something in her brain to trigger a false memory—a detailed memory of another life.
The only thing she could do was to forget that other life she’d thought was real, because it had never existed. She’d never gotten on that bus, she’d never run a successful business and neither did she own a fully paid-off two-million-dollar apartment. It was all a fantasy.
She only wished she didn’t feel like such an outsider with her children and her husband. She’d have to get to know him again, and start from scratch with the children. Heidi closed her eyes and asked God for the return of her memory. She wanted to remember those important times in her life, and all those Christmases that had gone out of her head.