Sometime Yesterday

by Yvonne Heidt

  She felt the woman move directly behind her and continue to push the hammock while humming softly. Natalie didn’t recognize the song, both haunting and melodic at once, but it soothed her like a lullaby and she floated back to sleep. The sun disappeared as a cloud drifted in front of it. Rain started to fall in cold, heavy drops. Natalie struggled to move, tangled in the hammock, and fell to the ground. Thunder clapped in the sky.

  “He’s here! Go back, dear heart. Now!”

  *

  Natalie gasped and sat straight up in bed, her breath coming in short bursts. She couldn’t find her bearings and fought not to panic. Outside, the storm raged. Rain pelted the windows and the room illuminated with a flash of lightning. Natalie covered her head with the blankets and tried to go back to sleep, humming the melody she’d never heard outside her dream. As she drifted, she thought she felt a hand gently smooth her shoulder and she shivered. Over the noise of the storm’s crescendo, she heard a soft whisper.

  “Shhh. Sleep, my angel. I’ll watch over you.”

  Chapter Two

  The next time Natalie opened her eyes, it was to rays of bright sunshine streaming in through a crack in the drapes. She felt as if she should be remembering something important, but the sensation danced around on the edge of her consciousness.

  She threw open the drapes and rubbed her eyes. There was no sign of rain. The birds were chirping and the sky still fairly pink and orange from the sunrise. Vaguely, she wondered why she thought it was raining. Natalie quickly made the bed and ran into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She was excited to start the day and see Mary.

  The odd feeling she had woken with disappeared as she took stock of the house, her house. Once again, she was grateful for Mary, this time for the coffee pot sitting on the kitchen counter and fresh coffee in the freezer. A beautiful arched stone fireplace stood sentry in the room, the red polished brick scrubbed immaculate. The kitchen had been beautifully remodeled. Come to think of it, the whole place looked wonderful. Natalie wondered why the previous owners decided to sell after putting in so much work. The purchase price certainly didn’t reflect the apparent cost of the renovations.

  The cabinets were obviously original but restored to match the golden oak floor. Granite counters and the stainless steel appliances gleamed in the morning light streaming through a large window over the farmhouse sink. It wasn’t true to the style of the period, but who really wanted a closet sized Victorian kitchen anyway? Natalie appreciated the modern conveniences.

  While she was waiting for the coffee to brew, she looked out the back door to survey the rear property. She couldn’t help but sigh when she saw how derelict and overgrown it appeared. Tall grass, weeds, and blackberry bushes grew wild, turning what must have been beautiful plant beds and orderly walkways into a playground of disorder. It would be a huge project, but her hands itched to get in the dirt. The rich smell of the earth and the feeling of accomplishment she compared to the process of painting. The art of creation fulfilled her in much the same way. She wondered who would be tending her gardens at her previous house this year and felt a little homesick.

  Natalie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the solid oak table. She dug in her purse for a notebook and pen to start a new list.

  She was overwhelmed and inexplicably, she began to cry. She’d kept herself so busy over the last few months, she hadn’t had time to breathe, let alone think. Tears landed on her list and made tiny circles in the letters, rendering some of the items illegible. She had hardly expected to be starting her life over at thirty-two. As far as she’d been concerned, the last twelve years hadn’t been all bad. Well, except for one detail. Natalie had never felt any passion toward Jason. None. She knew the problem lay with her. Jason was always ready, and over the years, she’d come to dread “that” look.

  Natalie winced when she recalled the first time Jason had called her frigid. Then there was the humiliating experience with the sex therapist. It was his idea, of course. Natalie gave her ex-husband props; he’d tried everything in the book to get her to respond.

  She admitted the fault was her own and put all of her insecurity into her paintings. She tucked her fantasies of happy-ever-after away and settled.

  She ripped out the shopping list and reminded herself that she could have new dreams now, and she had plenty to look forward to. Room by room, Natalie took inventory of what was in the house, what was coming, and what she would need in order to complete each room to her satisfaction. She finished her tour in the living room. Pausing before the painting above the fireplace, she tilted her head to the side and stared. The painting looked different. Natalie could have sworn that the woman had been standing completely in profile. This morning, she was looking over her shoulder and smiling shyly, her soft brown eyes curtained by the fall of her dark hair. Natalie backed away and studied the subject from different angles. The artist in her appreciated the detail and subtle colors that brought a dreamy quality to the painting. The woman was so beautiful, and yet again, Natalie had the odd feeling she had seen her somewhere before. She traced her fingers along the woman’s hair to her waist. When she caught herself wondering how soft the woman’s skin was, she quickly dropped her hand and stood back. She told herself that she was simply exhausted, not losing her mind. The painting hadn’t changed; that would be impossible.

  She yelped and jumped about two feet when the doorbell rang. Through the pane of glass in the door, she could see Mary standing on the porch. Natalie laughed and quickly let her in.

  “That doorbell is so loud, you about stopped my heart.” They embraced and she grabbed Mary’s hand and dragged her toward the kitchen. “You look awesome.” Natalie said and meant it. Mary Chapman had perfected her version of the California casual look. Streaked blond hair swung at the tips of her shoulders, she had cheerful cornflower blue eyes, and easy warmth lit her face. She left her designer suits in San Francisco when she and her family relocated to Bayside, but they were replaced with equally designer jeans that hugged her hips and flared fashionably at her feet.

  “Slow down, Nat. I’ve been here, remember?”

  “About that, how fricking cool are you? Thank you so much for getting the place ready for me.” Natalie poured a cup of coffee and got the creamer out of the fridge. “I see you even stocked your stuff.”

  Mary laughed. “Well, I knew I’d be here all the time. It’s so good to have you close. Look out, Bayside, the terrible duo is together again!” She lifted her coffee cup in a toast.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been dropped into a different life.”

  “I know it hurts, honey.” Mary patted her hand gently. “But I can’t say I’m sorry you left the jerk and moved here. I’ve missed you terribly. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Natalie waved off the question. “Absolutely not. No sad talk today. We have work to do. By the way, where did that painting come from over the fireplace? Did you buy it?”

  “Nuh uh. It was here when I started getting the place ready.”

  “I’ll have to ask the real estate agent then. If I’m not mistaken, I hear the moving truck. Let’s roll, buddy.”

  *

  Six hours later, with the movers finished and gone, the afternoon found them sitting on a dark gray, low back sectional couch in the corner of the parlor with their feet on boxes.

  “God,” Natalie said, “I feel like that truck ran me over before it left.”

  “That’s because we worked our asses off.”

  “I wish I had some champagne.”

  Mary blew her bangs out of her eyes. “You do, Nat. Bottom shelf in the fridge.”

  “Well, shit, what are we sitting here for?”

  Laughing, they ran into the kitchen and popped the cork on the Dom Pérignon Mary had left chilling for their reunion.

  After toasting Natalie’s new life in the house, Mary gave her a hug. “I have to go get the kids, and it just wouldn’t do to have Mommy reeking of alc
ohol in the afternoon. Now that they’re teenagers, they would never let me live it down.” She looked at Natalie hopefully. “Maybe you could come over and have dinner with us?”

  Natalie briefly thought about how great it would be to see the kids and Mary’s husband, Steve. They were her second family. Then the thought came that she just couldn’t stomach the pity. Well intentioned as it may be, she didn’t want to talk about the divorce or how she was feeling. She just wanted to move past it.

  “I would love to take a rain check on that,” Natalie said. “I’m not ready to face everyone yet.”

  “Okay, Nat.” Mary hugged her good-bye. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Thank you so much for everything. ” Natalie was grateful that Mary let her refusal stand so easily and didn’t try to persuade her.

  She stood in the doorway watching Mary’s car go back toward the town of Bayside and out of sight. She looked at her watch. Her back was sore and she was tired, but it was still early afternoon and she should head into town herself. She had a long list of things to buy. Natalie jumped when a door slammed shut somewhere in the house. Her nerves came back to greet her. Her fear the night before had seemed silly in the light of day, but now that she was here alone again, she was a little jumpy.

  This is ridiculous. Natalie chided herself, squared her shoulders, and marched to the stairs with determination. She would not be scared in her own house. When she reached the landing, she looked along the hall to see which door could have made the noise.

  They were closed, every single one of them.

  Natalie felt the hair on her neck rise. Goose bumps prickled her skin. Obviously, with all the windows and doors open, something was bound to slam. She checked every room, shut each window, and made sure she left every door open. Nothing spooky jumped out at her. When she was done, she washed her hands, changed her dusty clothes, then gathered her purse and went out to her car. As she slid the key into the ignition, she made sure to look and see if the window to her bedroom was closed. It was. She quickly backed out of the driveway and headed to town, dismayed to have a sense of relief at leaving her new home for a little while.

  *

  Natalie opened her window to let in the sea air while she was driving. The coast was beautiful. The highway hugged the cliff, and to her right was nothing but the ocean. The view of the water was broken with white caps and several large rocks that jutted out in between the waves. She loved the water and always had. The notes and melodies in the eighties music playing on the radio sang to her soul and reminded her of her younger years when her dreams reached to the sky and anything was possible. She spied a bald eagle as he tipped his wings to fly over the cliff. And that, at least, was a good omen. She adjusted the radio and beat the steering wheel in time while singing her favorite Bon Jovi song.

  At the next turn in the road, she could see the town nestled in the small valley. When she got closer, she let out a happy sound. It was beautiful with wide, clean streets. A small church spire rose in the air next to an idyllic park where children were playing. The yards all looked manicured and well cared for; colorful flowers spilled out of porch pots and lawn borders. It was postcard perfect and she already felt a sense of pride that she belonged here now.

  Natalie turned left on to Main Street. How quaint is that? She followed it to the hardware slash home store on the corner and pulled her little red Mercedes into the lot. Half the stuff on her list could be found here, and the other half at Samson’s, the local general store on Cedar Street, two blocks away.

  She pushed her cart through the immaculate aisles and quickly filled it with odds and ends, making sure to choose a new latch for her bedroom window. The elderly man behind the counter introduced himself.

  “Well, hello. Here’s a new face.” He thrust his hand over the counter to shake Natalie’s. “I’m Stan and this is my store.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Stan. My name is Natalie and I am a new face. I just moved here, yesterday.”

  Stan ran her items over the scanner and placed them in bags. “Oh, yeah? Which house, if you don’t mind me asking? You know these small towns.” He gave her a playful wink. “Always gossiping and knowing all your business. I need some new tidbits to share with the boys at the poker game tonight.”

  Natalie smiled and instantly liked him. “It’s the pink Victorian on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Do you know it?”

  His face went dark and his mouth set in a grim line. “The old Seeley place? Yeah, I know it.”

  Natalie was surprised at how quickly his mood changed. “Is that who owned it?”

  “Karen Small didn’t tell you about that house before you bought it?” He shook his head and picked up her bags. “Do you need help out with these?” Not waiting for her answer, he barreled out the door to her car.

  Natalie rushed over to unlock the trunk. “Is there something I should know, Stan?” She gave a nervous laugh. “What, were there people murdered there or something?”

  “Miss Natalie, what’s done is done. You own the house, and you should know its history. There’s a lot of folk here be willing to tell you all about the old Seeley place and you’re likely to get just as many very different stories. But you get your own answers, hear? Give Karen a call and ask her.” Stan shut her trunk. “Now then, it was very nice to meet you and I’ll be sure to tell the boys tonight that we have a pretty new resident. You need anything, you give me a holler.”

  Before Natalie could say a word, he nudged her toward the car and went back into the store.

  Natalie sat in her car for a moment then dialed Mary’s phone.

  “My house has a history,” she blurted the second she heard her voice. “How come you didn’t tell me my house had a history?”

  “The house is a hundred years old, Nat. Of course it has a history.”

  “Well, Stan, the guy who owns the hardware store? He practically crossed himself and threw salt over his shoulder when I told him where I lived. What’s up with that?”

  She heard Mary’s heavy sigh before she answered. “Okay, I should have told you, but you only called me after you’d already written the check, remember?” There was a slight pause. “Rumor has it the house is haunted.”

  Natalie felt both nauseous and vindicated. She knew there was something strange going on. “Whole story. Spill it, girl.”

  “You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?”

  Natalie rolled her eyes at the hopeful tone in Mary’s voice. “Hel-lo, have you met my mother the witch?”

  “You know, not to change the subject or anything, but I’ve never understood that. How come you went to Catholic school?”

  Natalie chuckled. “We Irish like to cover all our bases.” She heard a loud crash on the other end of the line and the boys screaming in the background.

  “Gotta go, Nat. I’ll call you back.”

  The line went dead. Her lovely house had a haunted history. Crap. Now what?

  Natalie flipped her phone shut and pulled out of the store’s parking lot. She turned right at the stop sign and continued on to the grocery store.

  Chapter Three

  Van Easton lowered her sunglasses so she could better appreciate the sight of the trim figure bent over the trunk of a sporty little car. Nice pockets. She caught a glimpse of red hair as the owner sped out of the grocery store parking lot. And the car ain’t bad either. She grinned and slid the case of water into the bed of her truck and headed back to work. She would be putting in some more late hours as the opening madness of the spring rush would be in less than a month.

  She was dog-tired but felt her chest fill with pride at the first sight of the business she co-owned and worked with her father. Set back from the highway, V & V Landscaping was her baby. Since she was added to the letterhead, so to speak, the company had grown from the nursery to include landscaping and custom designs, her specialty.

  She flipped the radio off and could hear her tires crunching along the long gravel driveway until she pull
ed into the side parking lot. She absently waved to a customer who was leaving.

  More by habit than anything else, she stopped to straighten a few of the flat carts that were crooked and flashed on a memory of her father handing her a shiny quarter to make sure they were all lined up like little soldiers in formation. The main building was a white two-story farmhouse her parents had converted years ago. She paused at the bottom of the low, wide ramp. Her father had been busy. Large cement planters flanked the railing and burst with riots of colorful violas and purple faced pansies. Red geraniums hung from the overhang of the large porch. She noticed a pretty new fairy wind chime with cobalt wings dancing in the breeze and ringing merrily.

  Dad’s rocker was empty, as were the other rocking chairs on the porch that usually held one or two of his retired buddies. She glanced at her watch, noticing it was much later than she originally thought. She entered the front door and was struck with a sense of home. For a moment, she could almost see her mother on the other side of the old wood counter, polishing it with loving hands, smiling at her.

  The illusion shattered when Jenny, the cashier, greeted her.

  “Working tonight, boss?”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Um, Van? It’s closing time. Are you okay?”

  She nodded and managed to find her voice. “Go ahead and finish, Jen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Van intended to go to her office but instead turned right at the stairs to the second floor, where she had grown up and her father still lived. She ran her hand lovingly along the smooth banister and saw herself, a young girl, sliding down it.

  What was with her tonight? She rolled her shoulders and tried to free herself of the melancholy, yet it followed her up the stairs.

  The living room still held traces of her mother, dead now over a decade, but present throughout in the sweet, simple touches scattered throughout the house. There, a colorful afghan folded over the couch and here, a cheerful teapot collection.