Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “Miz Callie, Mr. Wyn is on the phone,” she said, dragging the curly wire from the kitchen into Callie’s room.

  Sela and Brie tactfully withdrew, Pearl’s arms around their slim shoulders. “Melon and coffee?” she asked, placing pristine white linen napkins, expertly mended, in front of them. The china was from Wal-Mart as was the cutlery, the good stuff sold off years ago.

  “Just coffee, Pearl,” Sela said.

  “Just coffee for me, too,” Brie said.

  “Lord have mercy. The two of you don’t hardly make one good substantial woman. Side by side you’re still skinny. Men like their ladies to have meat on their bones.”

  “I’m this skinny because a man made me so,” Sela grumbled.

  “I’m this skinny because I don’t have time to eat. I’m out chasing the bad guys all day long.” Brie laughed nervously.

  Pearl chuckled, a deep rumble starting in her massive belly and working its way up to her robust chest. “Has Miz Callie been filling your heads with all the fine things she’s gonna be doing for me? If she has, don’t you go paying her no never mind.”

  “She needs to do it for you, Pearl. Let her. Be gracious and accepting. How’s Bode’s law practice? Do you think he’ll ride his bike to the wedding?”

  “Well, his practice is fine . . . was fine. He makes money and he gives me some, but I won’t take it. Bode is a fine man. He had some lady make me this dress I’m wearing. He knows how I like pretty colors. But to be answering your question, I don’t know how he’s getting to the wedding. Maybe he’ll take a taxi and maybe he’ll walk and maybe he’ll ride his bike. As long as he gets there is all that’s important.”

  “Hear, hear!” Brie said, holding her Wal-Mart mug high in a toast. “To Bode Jessup, a fine man!”

  “A mighty fine man,” Pearl said. “There is none better than my boy.”

  “Is he better than Wynfield Archer?” Brie asked slyly.

  “Don’t you be putting words in my mouth, young lady,” Pearl said sternly.

  “I think he’s better,” Brie said quietly.

  “So do I,” Sela said.

  “I’ll whop your behinds, the both of you, if you say that to Miz Callie,” Pearl warned.

  “We’d never, ever . . .” they said in unison.

  “Good.”

  “What time is the party?” Brie asked, holding her cup out for a refill. “I always really loved this kitchen. Still love it. I think part of it is because you’re here, Pearl.”

  “That’s a kind thing for you to be saying. I will miss it, too,” she said, looking around the huge square room. “Course, I ain’t seen Mr. Wyn’s kitchen. It might be just as good as this one.” Her bare foot scuffed at the old Charlestonian brick on the floor that she scrubbed with pumice stone three times a week. The cabinets and doors were old with iron hinges and so many coats of white paint they no longer closed properly. The walls were white, adorned by framed drawings that Pearl’s “children” had made for her years and years ago. Bode’s picture was of a sunrise and sunset, superimposed over a vast body of water that was as blue as a summer sky. Callie’s picture showed a field of cotton with people picking the crop. The caption read: white people picking cotton. It had been drawn when she was five and still learning how to print and spell. Sela’s picture was of two dogs as big as horses and labeled: mother dog and baby dog. Brie’s picture was of Pearl with a chicken in her hand, a bandanna wrapped around her head. The crayoned words said: my other mother. Green plants and herbs hung from the rafters and dotted the windowsill. Pots of flowers, every color of the rainbow, in clay pots, lined the raised hearth of the fireplace. Curtains the color of freshly picked cranberries hung over the multipaned windows that held as many coats of white paint as the cupboards and matched the old Charlestonian brick to perfection. The butcher-block table was old, ancient really, and deeply scarred by the huge knives Pearl used to hack up chickens and vegetables. The chairs were just as old and scratched, the finish worn off long ago. Cranberry-colored cushions rested on the seats and the backs of the chairs, all sewn by Pearl. The rag-tied rugs by the sink and stove were made by Pearl from Bode and Callie’s outgrown clothing. The appliances were old, the enamel chipped, black spots covered over with dabs of white paint that were now yellowish in color.

  It was a kitchen of happiness and sorrow. Callie’s father had died while sitting at the butcher-block table. Bode had kissed Callie on the cheek in the kitchen when she was ten years old. Sela’s first skinned knee was treated in the kitchen, and Brie cried her eyes out there in Pearl’s arms, the day of her mother’s funeral. And it was in this same kitchen that Pearl had listened to secrets and then sworn on the Almighty never to reveal them.

  “Did I ask what time the party was, or do I just think I did?” Brie asked.

  “Two o’clock,” Pearl said.

  “The heat of the day.” Sela sighed as she fanned herself with the napkin. “Let’s go into town and see Bode,” she said to Brie.

  “Sounds good to me,” Brie said, carrying her coffee mug to the sink. “Is there anything Sela or I can do, Pearl?”

  “Git along with you. I have some packing to do for Miz Callie that will keep me busy. You be back here by one o’clock, you hear me now?”

  “Yes, Pearl,” Brie said, planting a wet kiss on her plump cheek. “I’m so glad to be home.”

  “I don’t know what this world is coming to when a fine young Southern lady carries a gun in her purse,” Pearl grumbled.

  “I wear a holster, Pearl,” Brie said solemnly.

  “Are you funning with me, Miz Brie?”

  “Nope, I saw it.” Sela grinned. “It’s a wicked piece of metal, I can tell you that.”

  “I never thought I’d live to see the day. I knew way back when you was running around here you were going to do something different. You didn’t like doll babies and you were the one who always wanted to play cops and robbers,” Pearl fretted as she filled the sink with hot sudsy water.

  “Wasn’t I always the cop?” Brie asked.

  “And Bode was the bad guy.” Sela laughed. “Callie was the damsel in distress, and I was the lady of the manor. God, that was so long ago . . .”

  “Shoo, shoo,” Pearl said, waving her soapy hands in the air.

  “Your rented car or my rented car?” Sela inquired.

  “Don’ make me no never mind,” Brie said, mimicking Pearl.

  “Okay, mine,” Sela decided. “God, this place is gorgeous. Do you remember the first time our mothers brought us out here and we rode down the road with all those angel oaks on each side, the Spanish moss dripping almost to the ground? I think my heart stopped beating for a few minutes. It’s funny how we never saw how dilapidated the house was, or how things had gone to ruin, even back then. We were so happy, at least I was. I lived to come out here.”

  Sela turned on the ignition and drove the rental car down the rutted brick road that led to the main road. At the entrance to Parker Manor she stopped the car, perspiration beading on her forehead. She pointed a long, red-tipped finger at the ivy-covered brick pillars. Her voice was a hushed whisper when she said, “I used to dream about these pillars and the old oaks. In my dreams there was always a sign over the pillars that said Sela lives here. God, I wanted to belong here so bad I could taste it. Right now, this very minute, if someone said, ‘This is all yours,’ I’d get out a hammer, nails, and a scrub bucket and go to town on it. Is that crazy or what?”

  “Nope,” Brie mumbled. “I used to dream, too; but in my dreams I was always dressed up in my white dress and Mary Janes. I had a basket of flowers on my arm and . . . it was all so ethereal. God, I loved the flowers, the scent of the jasmine, the oleander, the camellias, the azaleas.” Tears momentarily blurred her vision.

  “Where was Callie in your dreams?” Sela asked carefully.

  “With Bode,” Brie said just as carefully. “Where was she in your dreams?”

  “With Bode. Everything’s wrong, Brie. Nothing feels right to me.
How did we get on this subject anyway?”

  “You mentioned your dream,” Brie volunteered.

  Sela shrugged. “Do you think we came out here because of this place and Callie and Bode—or was it because Pearl made us feel so loved? I love her. God, I really do,” Sela said, her voice breaking. “She’s getting old, Brie. What if she dies when Callie takes her to Beaufort? What if she misses Bode so much she dies of a broken heart?”

  “I want you to shut up right now, Sela. I don’t want to think about that. Bode won’t let that happen.” She turned then, to stare at the manor house where she’d spent so many wonderful days and hours.

  Yesterday.

  “I think,” she said in a strangled voice, “we came here because of Callie, this place and Bode. But if you’re asking me to single out one person, one thing, then I’d have to say it was Pearl. From the very first day, for me anyway, it was Pearl. She hugged me so tight that first time. She said I was as pretty as a moonbeam. At five I knew it was a lie, I called it a fib back then, and I loved her for that damn lie.”

  “She told me I was as pretty as the first star at night,” Sela whimpered. “We were so homely and gawky, Brie.”

  “I know. Callie wasn’t, though. She was the moonbeam and the star all rolled together. Do you remember, Sela, how Pearl used to dude her up for her afternoon ‘audience’ with her mother, every afternoon at four o’clock?”

  “I remember. Callie always said she knew someday her mother was going to hug her, but to my knowledge Mrs. Parker never did. Callie said she always gave her a wafer cookie, patted her on the head, and said, ‘Now run along, dear, and be a good girl for Pearl. I have to take my medicine now.’ She was a drunk. We didn’t figure that out until we were fourteen or so.”

  “I want yesterday,” Brie whispered.

  “Me, too,” Sela breathed in return. “I’d kill if there was a way to get it back. I mean that, Brie.”

  “We’ll always be friends, won’t we, Sela?”

  “Always. Remember how we used to call ourselves the sisterless sisters?”

  “We should make some kind of pact to get together every year or something like that,” Brie said. “What we should do is pick a holiday and make certain we plan in advance. Let’s talk to Callie and Bode about it.”

  “That means Wyn will be there,” Sela said.

  “Oh.” The matter was dropped and not brought up again.

  “I love you, too, more than yesterday and twice as much as I’ll love you tomorrow. Top that, Wyn Archer,” Callie said, a smile of pure joy on her face. “I can’t wait either. This time tomorrow I’ll just be hours away from being Mrs. Wynfield Archer. I’ve never been happier. I’ll see you this afternoon. Bye, darling.”

  Pearl’s face was inscrutable as she dried the last of the dishes. Her back was to Callie, but she knew the minute Callie entered the kitchen. She. didn’t need to hear the click of the receiver in the cradle to know her darling child was with her.

  “I swear, Pearl, I think Wyn is more jittery than I am. I thought men were supposed to be calm and collected. Was my father like that when he and Mama got married? I was hoping it would cool off today. It’s so sticky I’m going to need a second shower. It’s going to be great, Pearl—Wyn has central air-conditioning. We’ll never sweat again. Inside, at least.”

  “Ladies perspire, men sweat. Didn’t you learn anything at all in those fancy schools?” Pearl groused.

  “I certainly did. I learned that I sweated in the summer up North as much as I sweat down here. Sweat, Pearl. That’s when you’re dripping wet. Look at me. Even my hair is frizzing up. Where did Sela and Brie go?”

  “To look around. I heard the car start up, so they must have decided to go for a spin somewhere.”

  Callie mopped at her face with a paper napkin Pearl handed her. “I thought you said no self-respecting Southern housekeeper used paper napkins.”

  “I did say that, and I still say that. I use them for spills and for young ladies to wipe the perspiration from their brows.” Pearl turned to face Callie. “I’ve been thinking, Miz Callie. Why don’t I stay here till you get back from your honeymoon? I’m not going to feel right moving into a new house without you there. I thought I’d ask Bode to come out here and stay with me, or I’d move in with him for a while.”

  “Pearl, I thought we had settled all this days ago. Are you having second thoughts?”

  “You didn’t answer my question, missy.”

  “Pearl, if you really want to stay here until I get back, it’s okay with me. It’s okay with me if you want to stay with Bode. I want whatever will make you happy. You miss Lazarus. You want to be close to him, to be able to visit his grave.” She hoped for a smile, but Pearl’s face remained inscrutable. “I guess that means you’re going to stay.”

  “I thought you’d see it my way.” Pearl smiled.

  “You are coming to the party, aren’t you? Bode said he was picking you up.”

  “A friend of Bode’s is picking me up in his automobile. I’ll be there. And speaking of the rascal, look who’s pedaling up the driveway.”

  “Bode! Make us some breakfast, Pearl. Flapjacks and eggs for Bode. One scrambled egg for me. Hurry—if he sees you making it, he’ll stay.”

  Callie was the same young girl she’d been earlier in her bedroom with Sela and Brie when she squealed Bode’s name and threw herself in his arms. “It’s about time! I thought

  . . . I’m glad you’re here, Bode. Pearl is making us breakfast. Flapjacks and eggs.” Yesterday was forgotten.

  “I ate earlier, but thanks for the invitation.” He smiled as he loped across the kitchen to hug Pearl. “How’s it going, Mama Pearl?”

  Callie’s heart swelled. Her eyes misted over when she saw the look of happiness on Pearl’s face. Was she doing the right thing by taking Pearl away from Bode? Pearl was the only mother Bode had ever known.

  “Jest fine, Bode. I can’t believe you’re turning down one of my breakfasts.” She squeezed Bode so hard Callie saw his eyes pop.

  “I can’t believe it either, but I . . .” A look of desperation and something that looked like uncertainty crossed Bode’s face.

  This wasn’t the Bode she knew, Callie thought. Bode was never at a loss for words, except for yesterday, in the car park. He would have been the world’s best poker player because his face never gave away anything. That very look was an asset in the courtroom when he was summarizing his case in front of a jury. She felt a tiny curl of fear circle her stomach.

  “You have to do what?” Callie drawled. “I’m upset with you, Bode. I’ve been home a month, and I’ve only talked to you once on the phone.” Yesterday was better left alone. “I’m going to be working for you in two and a half weeks. Shouldn’t we talk, go over things like where my desk is going to be, how much you’re going to pay me? Something’s wrong. I know you too well, Bode. When you don’t want to deal with something you ignore it.” Like yesterday.

  Callie’s heart started to ache when she stared into Bode’s dark eyes. “Yesterday never happened, Bode,” she whispered.

  Bode grinned. “Never happened.”

  “Something’s wrong, I can feel it. Spit it out, Bode.” Surely he wouldn’t hold yesterday against her.

  “Well, it depends on one’s interpretation of the word wrong. I had this offer. It’s too good to pass up. I’m leaving in a little while. Some of my friends opened up a practice in New Mexico. It’s a big, artsy-fartsy community and they offered me a full partnership and I don’t have to put any money into the pot. I’m going to give it a try.”

  Callie backed up a step, her eyes going first to Bode and then to Pearl. Pearl looked like she was in shock, so that meant she hadn’t known about Bode’s decision. “When—aren’t you even going to stay for the party, the wedding?” Damn, she sounded like she was begging. She could feel her eyes start to burn. How could he do this to her? “What about my job?”

  “I can’t, Callie. My plane leaves”—he looked down at his
watch—“two hours from now, so I’ve got to get moving. A friend is waiting out by the main road to give me a ride to the airport. I’m sorry.”

  Anger, the likes of which she’d never known, rivered through Callie. “That sucks, Bode. You tell me all this today. I was . . . I thought we had a deal. I was going to work for you, we were going to be a team. Why didn’t you just send me a certified letter? I might have been able to handle that. How dare you do this to me! How dare you! I wanted all my friends to be at my wedding. I wouldn’t let anything, anything, Bode, stand in my way if it was your wedding. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. I thought we were friends. Friends don’t do things like this. I was wrong about you, Bode. Go on, go catch your plane,” Callie sobbed as she ran from the room.

  “You best be going, Bode. Miz Callie is never, ever going to understand what you jest did. Don’t pay me no mind. Give me a big hug and let your feet take you out to the road.” Tears glistened in the old woman’s eyes as she held out her arms to the young man she thought of as her son. “I understand, Bode. I might be getting old, but I understand.”

  “I know you do, Mama Pearl. Give this to Callie before she leaves for the party. I want to go on record right now as saying this is a mistake.” He handed Pearl the deed of trust Callie had asked him to draw up. “Tell Callie she owes me twenty-five bucks, and I’ll send her my bill.”

  “I’ll tell her, Bode.”

  “It’s okay if I leave my bike in the barn, isn’t it?”

  “Course it’s all right. You go on now; I’ll take it out to the barn and put a tarp over it.”

  “That baby is going to be worth a fortune someday, Mama Pearl,” Bode said with a catch in his voice. “I’ll write. Not often, but I will write. I love you, Mama Pearl. Take care of her.”