CECELIA'S MEMORIES

by Barbara Arthur

The characters of Simon and Simon don't belong to me. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Comments are welcome at Barbart@globalsite.net

Part One

Prologue

Boxes. Stacks and stacks of boxes. Large and small, boxes occupied two rooms downstairs, one room upstairs, and were crammed into the attic of Cecelia Simon's beautiful San Diego home. The attic is where Rick Simon and his brother A.J. could be found on the Wednesday afternoon following their mother's funeral by one week. They both stared morosely at the boxes.

Rick broke the silence which had engulfed he and his brother for nearly thirty minutes. "I can't take this today, A.J. I'm goin' to the office."

The younger sibling waited until Rick was about to make good on his words before speaking. "Rick, this has to be done. These boxes have to be gone through. We must decide what to keep and what to throw away. We need to have all of this stuff out of here before we put the house in the hands of a real estate agent. Don't just walk out on me, Rick!"

A.J. made his speech with his eyes still focused on the boxes. Peripheral vision told him his brother had decided to remain. The second son of Cecelia and Jack Simon sighed. This was difficult for Rick, he knew, and since it was hell for him, he wondered how his older, more unsettled brother was going to cope.

"I'm sorry, Kid," Rick said. "It's just that I keep seeing Mom here, you know? These are her memories, her life is in these boxes."

"Yes," A.J. agreed, "her memories, Dad's, and now they're ours. We can do with them whatever we wish, keep what we want. I just wish everything had been left out and not packed in the boxes until we could have looked it all over."

Rick chuckled slightly. "Mom knew she didn't have long. I guess she thought havin' her friends pack everything away she owned would make her, uh, make it easier for us to deal with."

A.J. turned to look directly at his brother. "Her death, Rick! Mom's dead! Don't dance around the word like that! You never could face anything! Mom's dead! Say it!"

Taken aback by the veracity of his brother's tone, Rick averted his gaze. "I don't have to say it to know it, A.J. I know she's dead. And I know we have to sort through these boxes, so let's get at it."

Rick would be okay. For the first time since their mother's passing, or at least in A.J.'s presence, he'd said the word dead, and now he was willing to start going through Mom's things. It was a good sign, because if Rick couldn't handle this, then A.J. was very afraid he, himself, could not. He needed Rick now.


While the younger man bent over one of the boxes, Rick studied him. A.J. was the one who could focus, the one who could keep his temper in control, he was the steady one, all of the things Rick was not. But there was the other side of the coin to consider. I'm still the oldest, thought Rick, and despite my occasional instability, A.J. needs me to be there for him, to be his big brother. I have to be there for him now. I can't skip out. He needs me, and, let's face it, I need him.

"Is that a good one to start with?" Rick asked when the other fellow seemed to be lost in thought.

"What?" A.J. turned quickly on his haunches to look at his brother. "Oh, yes, yes, it's a good one. I'm sorry, I was thinking----about something."

Rick nodded. "Me too, Kid. Me too. Listen, let's not rush this. I'm not ready and---"

"Rick! We have to do this, Damn it! Now take a handful of this stuff. It's pictures, letters, things like that."

Great, Rick thought. Just what I need to see, old pictures of Mom and Dad. "Okay."

Both brothers dipped into the box and came out with a handful of Cecelia Simon's memories. They looked at each item individually, A.J. giving each one several seconds, while Rick barely glanced at his before tossing it in one of the two piles he was creating. A save pile and a discard pile. His brother noticed the lack of attention being given and hoped nothing important was being thrown out. As for himself, he hated throwing anything away. After all, Mom had saved it all. She must have wanted everything in the boxes. It didn't matter now. She was gone, her battle with cancer over. She had been an open minded person, a reasonable person. She would be satisfied with whatever her sons chose to do with her memories. Lost again in his own thoughts, A.J. at first didn't realize Rick had spoken.

"A.J., snap out of it! I want you to look at this picture!"

Chapter 1

Several different emotions competed for dominance as A.J. reacted to Rick's request, which was more like an order. It could mean that his brother was, indeed, giving attention to the items before systematically filing them in one pile or the other. That was all to the good. Perhaps Rick would hang on and not go off the deep end over Mom's death.

It could be, however, A.J. reflected, that whatever was in the picture Rick was focusing on might hold an emotional memory for them both. If that was the case, he hated to look at it. On the other hand, Rick didn't appear to be emotional. How did he appear? Like a P.I., that's how he appeared, like the investigator that he was, like something exciting and at the same time dangerous was flashing through his mind. Yes, that's how Rick appeared, and it scared the hell out of A.J. "What is it, Rick?"

"Just get over here and take a look at it, will ya?"

A.J. nodded. "Sure," he agreed and moved immediately to look over Rick's shoulder at the snapshot. He looked long and hard at it, although he'd seen the picture dozens of times. "It's Mom and Dad on their fifteenth wedding anniversary," he said. "You've seen it before. It's a good one. Don't throw it away."

Rick said nothing in reaction to his brother's words for at least thirty seconds. A.J. pulled his own gaze from the photo and focused on the other man. "Rick? I said---"

"I heard you, but you can bet your last penny I won't be throwing this baby away."

Alarmed now and not yet honed in on the exact reason for his alarm, A.J. kept his tone of voice neutral. "I'm glad. We don't have that many pictures of them together and now that they're both---just don't throw---"

"They're not both dead, A.J., and this picture proves it."

Dumbfounded and filled with dread, A.J. struggled with a response to the off the wall remark he'd just heard. "Rick, come on, don't do this to me. Don't do it to yourself. We'll make it. Life goes on---"

"Stop babbling, Kid," Rick softly cut his brother off. "Dad's alive. There's no time for babbling."

A.J., dressed in typical fashion in a white polo shirt and tan trousers, felt his insides churn. He'd expected Rick to have some bad times after Mom's death, expected him maybe even to take his boat out and be gone a while, but this--"Dad's dead, Rick. He has been for years. Get a grip on yourself. I need you."

For the first time since picking up the anniversary photo of his parents, Rick took his eyes off of it and moved them to his kid brother. A.J. didn't understand this and was frightened. He would have to explain it all to the fellow, make him see what he, himself, could so easily see. "I'm not losin' it, Kid. I know just as well as I know my name is Richard Simon that Dad's alive."

"Because of something you see in that picture?"

"Yea. There's a woman's hand in it, off to the side of Dad here. See?"

A.J. once again looked at the photograph. Rick pointed. The picture had been snapped at an outdoor gathering of people helping Cecelia and Jack celebrate. Sure enough, the hand of a woman could be seen, a woman who had evidently been standing too close to Jack to avoid getting the one part of her anatomy in the photo. "So, there's a hand with a ring on every finger. How do you equate that with Dad being alive?"

"That hand was at Mom's funeral," Rick replied, just as if that explained it.

"What! Rick, let's get out of here. You're correct, you are not ready to do this."

At last, Rick lowered his right hand, the one holding the snapshot. "There'll be plenty of time to do this after we find Dad."

"Rick----"

The older brother abruptly grabbed A.J. by the shoulders. "Kid, I want you to trust me. Go home and pack your bags. We're gonna do P.I. work like we've never done in our lives. We won't get paid for it, but it'll be worth it to find Dad. Of course we may not like him much when we do, but we'll never know unless we find him."

More roughly than he intended to, A.J. pushed Rick's hands away. "I don't know what's wrong with you. I suppose it's grief, but I can't go along with this. I wish I could, but Rick, what you're saying is nonsensical. It's crazy. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for me?"

A.J. shrugged, but spoke sternly. "Yes. I'm sorry for you. Dad's gone, you know that. A hand with a bunch of rings on it doesn't change that."

Raising the snapshot up again, Rick studied it, then shook his head. "No, you're wrong, but I guess I can't blame you. And even if I explained it to you, you wouldn't believe me, so, I'll, uh, just be on my way."

When A.J. said nothing, but instead turned back to sorting through his mother's memories, Rick ran down the attic steps.

For an hour or so, the youngest son of the now deceased Cecelia Simon, rummaged through box after box of his mother's belongings. Like Rick before him, he divided things into two piles. There was much here it wouldn't be all that difficult to throw away. The more practical side of A.J.'s mind, and he was a very practical person, kicked in and told him Mom had only saved a lot of these pictures and postcards and letters out of habit. He didn't recognize many faces in photographs or the names on the back of them. Likewise, he didn't recognize many of the names signed at the bottom of the letters. There was no use keeping them.

A.J. worked steadily, all the while attempting to shove out of his mind what had occurred in the attic earlier. Rick had some crazy idea about Dad still being alive. Something to do with a woman's hand, a hand with a ring on every finger. It was, indeed, crazy. Of course, there might be some explanation for his thinking. Rick was sharp, one of the best P.I.'s in the business, and even if he was badly shaken now due to Mom's passing, he might not be totally off the wall.

"Why didn't I listen!" A.J. admonished himself. "It was the least I could have done. Rick might actually take off and I won't have any idea where he's gone. He could get into trouble. I can't stand to lose him----"

Tears came unbidden. It could not be true what Rick was thinking, but it would be worse to lose him than not to indulge him in this craziness for a while. With that thought, A.J. dropped all of his mother's memories back into the boxes, ran downstairs to the garage, locked the door, got into his car and sped off toward his home. All of Rick's belongings, which weren't many, were either in his boat in A.J.'s yard, or in the latter's house. The only worry the younger Simon had as he maneuvered through the San Diego traffic was that he would be too late to catch the fellow who was the only family he had left.

Rick was ready to go. All he needed to do before hitting the road was purchase a bag of dry dog food for Marlowe, his large mixed breed dog, and stop by the bank and withdraw the three hundred and sixty five dollars and fourteen cents from his checking account. Marlowe would have to go along because A.J. wouldn't appreciate being stuck with him for an undetermined amount of time and Mom---No, Mom was no longer around to look in on the dog and feed him while his master was away.

Being honest with himself as he tossed pieces of luggage in the back of his truck, Rick admitted he'd harbored the idea that A.J. would have come home by now to try to talk him out of leaving. Well, the Kid no doubt believed his big brother was too far out in left field to bother with. And maybe he was, maybe what he had in his head was the lunacy it seemed to be on the face of it. No. No, he was sure he was on the right track. He had not told A.J. everything. Why didn't I? he wondered. Because saying it aloud will sound crazy, even to me, that's why. What little I told the Kid made me wonder about myself.

"Dad's alive," the older Simon brother muttered as he finished loading his truck. "My gut tells me so. I'll just have to do this investigation alone."

Inside his brother's house, Rick summoned Marlowe from his late afternoon nap, told him they were going for a long ride and walked with the animal out to the pick-up. Marlowe loved to ride and jumped in as soon as the door was opened for him. And then Rick heard a car pull up. He knew without turning around it was A.J.

Spying the truck, Rick's means of transportation, caused A.J. to draw a deep breath. He realized he had not been breathing normally on the drive from his mother's house to his own. But he could relax a bit now. His brother had not departed, although he obviously was about to. In fact, the dog had just bounded in. No doubt his beloved pet was the last of his belongings Rick would load. Parking behind the truck, the younger Simon got out and walked toward the other fellow. Rick did not turn toward him.

Now what? Rick thought. He resolved to not allow A.J. to delay him long. If he's come home to persuade me to give it up, I won't, the older man told himself. Neither of them spoke for several seconds. Rick held the truck door open on the driver's side, ready to get in. His brother stood back a few feet. Their eyes had yet to meet. Rick decided to speak. "I'd better get under way, Kid. Move your car out of the way."

There was another pause before a response was forthcoming. Finally, A.J. said, "If we're going to be traveling far, we'd better take my car. It's in better condition and gives an easier ride."

Isn't he going to respond? A.J. wondered, when his brother kept his back to him and made not a sound in acknowledgment to his statement. "Rick, I'll go----"

Rick reeled around with an abrupt move. "I'll tell you all about it when we get on the road. I promise, I'll do that and you won't be sorry you came along."

A.J. nodded. "Alright, but I can't worry about that. I just don't want you to go off alone. I---" He wanted to tell his brother he loved him but those words were difficult to say.

"I know you do, Kid." Rick grinned at him slightly and then raised his hand palm open, and laid it on A.J.'s face. "And I feel the same about you."

A.J. smiled that heartwarming smile of his and said, "I'll pack some things. How long will we be gone?"

"No tellin'."

"What!"

"This could take a while, A.J.," Rick shrugged. "Better take enough for a month. I know you like to look fresh."

Shaking his head in exasperation, A.J. headed to the house to pack and Rick began the process of transferring his things from the truck to the other man's little red Camaro.

When both Simons were ready, they backed out of the driveway, A.J. behind the wheel. Rick had mentioned the two stops he needed to make before leaving the city. A.J. also needed to visit the bank and so they were off. Once the dog food was purchased and the money withdrawn, A.J. was forced to make a confession. "Well, that's it for me."

"Huh?"

"I don't have the slightest idea where we're going, Rick. You'll have to tell me which direction to head."

"Oh, yea," Rick said. "I think we need to take I10 to Las Cruces, then I25 on up to Albuquerque."

"Albuquerque! Rick, I was thinking somewhere closer."

"That's where Dad is, A.J. I'm sure of it. So that's where we need to go."

A.J. drove east out of San Diego, his brother beside him and Marlowe in the backseat, sitting up like a human. The top was down, allowing the driver's blond head of hair to blow in the wind as it likewise blew the hair of the reddish brown dog. Rick wore his usual hat, a hat which kept his thinning on top brown hair from blowing.

It's like we're headed on a vacation, A.J. reflected, like we're leaving town for a while to see the scenery. Rick vowed back at the house that he would reveal the reasoning behind his madness, but they were fifty or so miles into the trip and not a word had been spoken. A.J. suddenly veered off the road and stopped.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked. "You hear somethin' amiss in the engine?"

"No, I didn't."

"Can't wait 'till we get to a rest stop?"

A.J. had trouble suppressing a smile, but managed. "I don't have to go to the rest room."

"Then why the heck did you stop?" Rick pressed.

"Because, Rick, it's time for you to tell me about it. Tell me about the photograph. Tell me why---"

Rick held up his hand. "Okay, okay, I will, but drive on. You can listen while you drive."

Heaving a deep sigh of exasperation, A.J. fired the engine and pulled back on to the highway. Almost certain Rick would not open up, he was surprised to learn he was mistaken. He was totally shocked at his brother's opening statement.

"Dad had a mistress," said Rick, then continued on just as if those four words weren't astonishing enough. "She was the woman with a ring on every finger."

"Rick, that's not true and you damn well know it!"

"It is, Kid."

"Where did you get such an idea?"

"From Mom. Mom told me."

The most difficult part for A.J. to accept so far was the calm manner in which his older brother was delivering the news. Not that he believed it for a moment, but it was terribly eerie to listen to Rick's nonchalant tone. "Mom never said a word against Dad to us. If this is what it's all about, I'm going to turn around and head for home."

Ignoring the threat, Rick said, "She didn't tell me directly. I overheard her telling a friend of hers. This was before Dad's accident."

The fellow was serious and A.J. knew it. "What did she say, exactly? And what were you doing, eavesdropping?"

Rick laughed that short laugh of his and then replied. "I suppose you could say that. I was workin' on my bike, just off of the patio. I was fourteen. Mom and her friend were on the patio."

"And she said?"

"She said, 'You know, Mildred, I'm just sure that Caldron woman is after Jack.' And Mildred said, 'Oh, Cecelia, you don't have to worry, Jack is devoted to you and the boys.' And Mom said, 'I've always thought so, but, well, he's different lately.' And Mildred said, 'Different? How?' And Mom started to cry---"

A.J. didn't believe he could listen to the recitation, the play by play account of a long ago conversation Rick was giving him much longer. He cut in. "It's not possible that you could recall it word for word after so many years."

"I'll never forget a word of it, Kid. Not a word," the older man assured, then continued. "Mom started to cry and she said, 'That woman wears a ring on every finger, Mildred, and Jack gave her the one she wears on the third finger of her left hand.' And Mildred said, 'How do you know that?' Mom said, 'Because I found it in a ring box in his suit jacket when I was looking for soiled handkerchiefs. I naturally thought it was for me, but he never gave it to me. Later, I saw it on Betty Caldron's hand'"

It occurred to A.J. to mount an argument against what Rick had told him. It would be a waste of time. Rick believed in what he said, believed he'd heard such a conversation. No, he wouldn't argue. Instead, he asked a question. "And you say this Betty Caldron was at Mom's funeral?"

Surprised that A.J. wasn't putting up a stronger defense for their father, Rick nevertheless answered immediately. "She was. After I heard that conversation, I paid close attention to Betty Caldron."

"Who was she? I don't recall the name at all."

"No, you wouldn't. She was just a neighborhood woman who played Bridge with Mom."

"Husband?"

"Divorced, but she'd been married to money."

A.J. concentrated on the road. "So, did you try to check this out at the time? Spy on Dad or anything?"

"Dad died that same day, A.J."

"What!"

Rick nearly went through the dashboard as his brother abruptly applied the brakes. Another car bore down on them. Rick knew this because he turned to protect Marlowe from injury. "What the hell!" he demanded of the driver. "You'll get us killed doin' that!"

A.J. was rattled, his brother could see, although he thought the fellow had better control than to do what he'd just done. The handsome younger man spoke only after bringing the car back up to speed. "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."

"Yes it was," Rick agreed.

"It won't happen again. It's just that you shocked me."

"I know, Kid, I know."

"Go on with it, Rick."

"Maybe you should pull over. The sign said a rest stop's comin' up in five miles."

"Okay. Five miles won't take long."

"Nope, we're there already."

Rick observed as his kid brother maneuvered off on to the exit ramp, around a winding entry to the rest stop and then off to an area where they would be mostly alone, then waited for the other man to say something. He did. "Alright, Rick. I have some questions."

The older Simon allowed himself a grin. "I'm sure you do, and well you should have."

"You're saying you overheard a conversation which led you to believe Dad was---that there was another woman, and then that very same day Dad was killed?"

"Rick nodded. "I'm saying that, yes."

"And that's all you ever knew about it until you say this Betty Caldron came to Mom's funeral? Was she at Dad's?"

"I didn't see her," Rick answered. "And I looked."

"I still don't see, even if what you say about an---an affair is true, I still don't see how that makes you believe Dad is alive."

Rick, when the car stopped, had given his attention once again to his pet and avoided eye contact with his brother. He glanced at the fellow now. "After Dad---well, after we thought he died---"

"He did die, Rick!"

"Are you gonna hear me out!"

A.J. sucked in his breath. "Go on."

"After we thought Dad died, I rode by Betty Caldron's house a lot. It was three blocks from us on Henderson. She was around for a while---"

"For a while?"

"Yea. Then, after, oh, I don't know, three months or so, she up and sold out and moved."

"Nothing unusual about moving," A.J. muttered.

"No, and I didn't think much about it, 'cause I thought Dad was dead. I got up my nerve one day and asked Mom what happened to the lady with all of the rings, asked her why that lady didn't play Bridge anymore. I didn't let on I knew the dame had moved."

"And what did Mom say? Did she answer?"

Rick nodded. It felt good to tell someone all of this at last. "Yea, she said Mrs. Caldron had moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico."

He was trying to understand. He really was. But there were huge gaps yet in Rick's story. A.J. said so. "Fine, so she moved to Albuquerque. That doesn't prove anything, Rick."

"No, and I can't prove anything 'till we get there, but Mrs. Rings came to Mom's funeral. I saw the rings as you and me were walkin' back to the car at the cemetery."

Sighing again, A.J. fiddled absently with the knobs on the dashboard. "Well, I don't know why she would come if she and Mom hadn't kept in touch, but, Rick, maybe she's living in San Diego again, maybe she came out of----"

"Out of what?"

"Curiosity, maybe. Maybe she wondered how, well, if Dad had an affair with her, maybe she wondered how we turned out and since Mom wasn't there to recognize her----I don't know."

Rick smiled slightly. "Good theory. Except for one thing."

No longer able to control his nerves well enough to sit there and listen, A.J. pushed himself up and climbed out of the car without opening the door. When his feet were on the ground, he glanced back at his brother. "And that exception is?"

Without providing a response, Rick also got out, grabbing Marlowe's leash as he did so. He hooked it to the dog's collar and gave the canine permission to jump out. Man and dog then proceeded to the pet walking area. A.J. observed the ritual. Rick had come to the punch line, but hadn't delivered it yet. Waiting for the fellow he'd felt compelled to accompany on the journey, A.J.'s insides churned.

Telling this stuff to A.J. was proving difficult for Rick. Why don't I just spill it all out? he wondered. It was two paragraphs long at the most in written form. Saying it aloud, though, brought out so many nuances, conjured up so many memories, good and bad. And, of course, there was that old as time, well, not as old as time, only as old as A.J., business of not liking to hurt his kid brother. Rick allowed Marlowe several minutes to smell out spots where the animal might wish to leave his mark and then led the large fellow back toward the car.

"You wanta stand out here or get in the car to finish talkin'?"

"Just tell me, Rick! Just---"

"I watched the rings, watched them leave the cemetery," Rick said.

"You what? What does that mean?"

"It means that, when my eyes fell on the many ringed hand, I didn't realize it meant somethin' to me, but it must have, because I watched it, watched it get into a car."

A.J., exasperated, threw up his hands. "Make sense, Rick, and do it quickly. If you don't I swear I'll let you find your own way home."

"I watched the hand and the woman attached to it get into a car. For some reason, my mind wrote down the fact it was a car with New Mexico plates."

A.J. flashed that tiny hint of a smile he couldn't hide when Rick said something in the crazy way he had with words. The smile disappeared rapidly. "So? If it was Betty Caldron, you said she moved to New Mexico."

Rick nodded his agreement. "Right, right. No big deal, except I also noticed there was a man in the car waiting for her."

It wouldn't be all that difficult for A.J. to vomit at the moment. He was not a stupid man. In fact, he was quite intelligent. He knew what Rick would say when pressured on the question which must now be asked. He knew, but, of course, he must ask it. "Well, if she drove from New Mexico, she probably didn't make the trip alone. Maybe she asked a friend, or---"

"A.J.!"

"Okay, Rick. Was the man with her our father?"

Rick shrugged. "Never occurred to me at the time. I just caught a glimpse of the side of his face. But, after I saw that picture in Mom's things and then recalled the conversation about Dad havin' the many ringed one as his mistress, and then---"

"And then you just assumed because Betty Caldron moved away shortly after Dad died, and then came back after all these years to Mom's funeral, if it was her---"

"It was her."

"Okay, it was her. So, if she came back to Mom's funeral and had a man with her---"

"A man who stayed in the car," Rick cut in again to say.

A.J. pounded on the hood of his automobile with his fist. "Damn! It can't be. All these years---"

Rick led Marlowe around to the passenger side of the vehicle, opened the door, and instructed the dog to take his place on the back seat. He then got in himself. He had a fleeting thought that his brother would not go any further toward Albuquerque, that A.J. would not want to pursue this even after knowing the facts. He would soon find out because the fellow was opening the door on the driver's side. "Well?"

"Well what?" A.J. answered a question with a question.

"Are you goin' on to Albuquerque or back home?"

The brother Rick thought more of than anyone left alive, and that included their father if he was still among the living, put his hands on his face and slowly pulled them down and away. "I don't see that we have any choice."

Tears came to Rick's eyes. He willed them away. "You want me to drive a while?"

A.J. replied brusquely. "I'm nervous enough without that."

The tears returned and this time Rick had to wipe them away before he spoke. "Maybe later."

"Well, maybe," A.J. said, then fired the engine and headed for the highway.


CONCLUSION

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