"Because she looks dangerously like your dead wife. That's why you saved her, isn't it? Victor Harrington has never done anything for anyone else in years. Why start now?" Clara said, staring me down.
"I won't stand here and listen to this!" I turned on my heel back to the sitting room.
"She is dead, Victor! And she is not coming back! You have to start living again. Maybe this girl is her way of telling you so."
I laughed, not because what she said was funny but because it was ridiculous. "You think Viv wants me to start living again with a child! Look at her. She is barely over twenty!"
Clara gave a smile, a wide one. "You dirty man! I never suggested anything untoward. Why are you thinking it?"
"Clara, stop messing with my head." I started to walk away.
"You will take the child to the city with you. You will take her to a hospital where she can be properly treated, and you will take care of her until she gets her memory back!"
"And what if that is never?" I asked the woman I was tempted to strangle right now.
"Well then, I guess you will be stuck with her forever." She finished and walked back to the living room, where the girl was lying.
*****
I took a stroll to the back of the house where my wife was buried. Clara kept good care of the estate despite it being empty of any life except hers. My wife used to live here to write; she said the city was too noisy for any creativity.
I would come home during the weekends and spend the weekdays in the city running an empire. Even when she was pregnant, I dedicated the bulk of my time to my business, and in the process, I lost my wife.
"I packed her a bag." Clara appeared behind me.
"I haven't agreed to this yet."
"you need to let someone in once more whether as a woman, a lover or a friend."
"Viv was all of that. There was no either or." I argued.
"Viv is gone. Tell me, when was the last time you hugged your daughter?"
"Clara, stop pushing my buttons." I turned to her, looking at her as dangerously as her stubborn old self could handle.
"Oh save that macho nonsense for your business partners and come have a meal before you get on the road."
*****
I followed Clara back into the house, the aroma of freshly made pie in the air. I hadn't eaten here in a while, let alone shared a meal with anyone who wasn't a business partner.
I sat at the table and waited for my own slice of pie.I wasn't hungry, but I didn't have the mental capacity to handle another argument with Mama Clara. She dropped a piece of pie in front of me and ordered me to eat with her finger almost poking my eye.
Woman, I sat down all by myself. If I wasn't going to, I wouldn't have sat down now, would I?
"Where's the girl? You know… we really have to give her a name. What will I say when I get to the hospital? Her name is 'the girl?'"
"I don't know. What do you want to call her? Mary, Nat…" As Clara listed off various names she could find in her old brain, I looked up and nearly choked on a piece of pie.
"Viv?"
"You can't be serious, Victor. You want to name the poor girl after your wife?" Clara continued.
Standing just at the doorway was the girl, wearing my wife's dress. A vision of my wife is what it was. I stopped chewing, my mouth open as I took in her figure, her long black hair, her posture, her dark eyes. I wanted to walk over and kiss her.
I had missed her; I looked once more, drinking in the details, the similarities. How was this even possible? The stylish blue dress was one she had gotten on a whim while we were at the market together.
She never liked the billionaire life; she wanted things simple. She wanted to haggle about prices and joke with market women.
It helped her creativity, she would say. The girl cleared her throat and stepped further into the room.
"Oh, look amazing!" Clara said, clapping her hands together. "Come sit and eat."
"You gave her Vivian's clothes?" I turned to Clara.
"The poor girl needed something to wear. She was almost naked when you brought her in here, you pervert!" she hissed at me.
This woman!
The girl moved to the opposite side of the table and sat in it. I tried not to look at her, but I failed. Did my wife come back to me? If she did, why did she have to be so young?
"I'm sorry. I could change into something else if it's available." She said softly, her bright eyes looking back at me.
"No. It's fine. Finish your food so we can leave."
"Leave? Where are we going?"
"Mr. Harrington will take you along to the city until you can get your memory back."
"Why can't I stay with you?" She turned to Clara, her eyes begging.
"Yes, Clara. Why can't she stay with you?" I repeated it, but I got a smack to the head. "Ow!"
"Because I am an old woman, I have no help, and you have to see a doctor. I can barely move around this big house, much less take you to a hospital. Don't worry, dear. Mr. Harrington will take perfect care of you."
She nodded timidly, holding her bandaged head again.
"Do you have a headache, child?" Clara fussed.
"No, it's just. I keep trying to remember something, anything. But it's just bright flashes and quick pictures. I can't make out anything." She explained picking up a fork to eat.
"I would like to say thank you, though, for the hospitality. I am grateful that you saved me." She looked towards me, but I only stared at her, my mind a jumble of trying to separate this little girl from my wife.
Another slap to the back of my head made me jerk. "Clara, would you please quit doing that?"
"The girl said thank you."
I rolled my eyes and mumbled a "You're welcome."
"I don't want to cause any trouble. I can work for my keep."
"What can you do?" Clara asked.
"I don't know, but I guess I can clean; I think I can cook." She stared down at her plate. "And I think I remember my name!" Her eyes flew up in joy.