“At least we both told him we loved him,” Megan said. There were more cars on Interstate 75 heading north than usual and Megan remained focused on the road. They had just passed Flint and had two more hours until they reached Petoskey. “I’ll bet Aaron hasn’t said those words to Dad in years. I wonder how he’s feeling.”
“Has he said anything to you?” Ellen hadn’t spoken to him since their father’s death. Aaron usually spoke in one-syllable words and seemed to have two basic personalities: bored or on the brink of losing his temper.
“No. He hasn’t talked to any of us, really.”
Ellen settled back against the headrest and stared out her side window. Another hour passed and she thought about her brother. There was a time when Ellen had made an effort with Aaron. She had sent him encouraging Bible verses and occasional letters. But sometime later she heard through her father that Aaron did not appreciate her efforts at correspondence.
“He thinks you’re preaching to him,” her dad said gently. “I know you’re trying, honey, but maybe you’d be better off to just let him be. You can’t change him, you know.”
The news hurt, and for months Ellen considered calling Aaron and explaining that she had written the letters only because she cared. But she never called and she stopped writing after that. Although there was no tension between she and Aaron, they hadn’t said more than ten words to each other in the past two years.
“What about you, Jane?” Megan broke the silence. “You remember the last time you talked to Dad?”
“I didn’t talk to Dad much. Whenever I called I talked to Mom.”
“I know, but do you remember the last time you talked to him?” Megan pressed, clearly frustrated and determined to work Jane into the conversation.
“No, I guess not. He probably told me to give the kids a hug and kiss or something. That’s usually what he’d say.”
Ellen sighed and turned to Jane. “He loved you, Jane. Not just your kids. Sometimes you act like he didn’t.”
“You don’t need to tell me that. I know he loved me. But he and I weren’t close like you two, or like he was with Megan. And that’s something you don’t understand, Ellen.”
“That was your choice.” Ellen raised her voice. “You never spent time with him or talked to him or sat down to keep him company. What did you expect, Jane? You have to be around someone if you want to be close to them.”
“Well, it didn’t seem to matter how far away you were. You moved eighteen hundred miles south and you were still closer to him than any of the rest of us.”
Megan sighed. “Come on, you guys, don’t fight. Dad loved us all. We have to lean on each other now and get through this together. The past is the past.”
“I’m not fighting.” Ellen returned her gaze to the road. “I just don’t want her making Dad out to be some cold-hearted guy. It’s time to say good-bye to him and I don’t need her cheapening it.”
She glanced at Jane again. “Maybe you two weren’t close but don’t go talking about it. The rest of us want to remember him in our own ways this week. Understand? I mean, you did love him, didn’t you?”
Jane held her head a bit higher and clenched her teeth. Ellen was surprised to see tears fill her eyes, but they didn’t spill over. It was as though Jane was refusing to cry. Like so many times before. Ellen longed to know what it was that troubled her sister so deeply, why she seemed so set on believing the worst about their father.
“Of course, I loved him,” Jane said finally.
“Well, then, let’s focus on that. All of us, all right?”
They continued north along Interstate 75 through the Mackinaw State Forest, past Higgins Lake and the Alpine town of Gaylord, on up to Highway 68 past Burt Lake and then to Highway 31. They drove over the slight grade and finally saw water as the road curved left and headed along the shore of Lake Michigan and Little Traverse Bay.
“Behold, the beautiful bay.” Ellen could hear her father’s proud words.
He had been right. The bay held the deepest, clearest blue water Ellen had ever seen. Even the Atlantic Coast could not compare with the pristine, majestic beauty of upper Lake Michigan.
In a matter of minutes they passed the summer community of Bay View. The social and financial elite from Chicago and Detroit owned the homes in Bay View. They were summer homes, supplied with electricity and water from May through August only.
Megan braked for a light, and Ellen studied the grand houses, their intricate Victorian designs and double-wraparound covered porches. Many of the homes were more than a hundred years old, but most had been completely restored to their original color and design. The neighborhoods swarmed with luxury cars while homeowners sat outside in porch swings, enjoying the dazzling view of the bay.
“Dad loved those summer homes,” Ellen whispered.
Traffic was thick, and every other car on the road seemed to carry tourists. During most of the year, Petoskey had a population of six thousand. In the summer, that number doubled. Ellen remembered how exciting the tourist season was when she was a teenager. She would sit at the beach with her family and watch all the new boys playing touch football and volleyball on the sand.
The town put its best foot forward during the summer months and there was something exciting about the increase of traffic each June. Of course, some residents hated the tourists, cursing them for clogging up the city streets and making downtown Petoskey’s Gaslight District nearly impassable.
But tourism was the leading industry in Petoskey, and everyone in town benefited from a strong summer season. Those who grumbled knew enough to keep their feelings to themselves. After all, the inconvenience lasted only three months.
There was something comfortable and reassuring about August, when the summer residents went home and the town returned to its simpler ways.
Megan drove up Spring Street over Bear River and turned left on East Mitchell Road. She continued past Stone Funeral Home into a sprawling subdivision of country homes and restored turn-of-the-century farmhouses. She turned right on Lake Avenue, drove past five houses, and then finally there it was: the yellow-and-brown two-story house where the Barretts had lived for twenty years.
Built in 1954, their house had been restored gradually over the past several decades. The covered porch had been used for everything from first kisses to card games, heart-to-heart conversations and family sing-alongs.
Ellen was glad the house looked the same. The willow trees still anchored it on either side. The interior would be the same as well, just as it had been when she lived there. Vaulted ceilings in the foyer, walnut railing up the stairway to the bedrooms on the second floor, dark brown carpeting throughout, a spacious country kitchen with a faded yellow-tile countertop.
They turned into the gravel driveway and parked behind the other cars. Their parents owned two acres of rolling grassland. After living in a Miami subdivision, she thought her family’s backyard seemed to go on forever. They climbed out of the car and helped the children out of their seat belts as Mom walked out to meet them.
Jane was instantly at her side. “Mom, I’ve been so worried about you.”
Ellen and Megan lagged behind with the children, and for an instant Ellen felt a pang of jealousy as she watched Jane and their mother embrace. Jane had always been a kindred spirit with their mother, while Ellen struggled to gain her approval. Ellen wondered if their mother had seen how much Dad loved her and Megan and had compensated by giving more of herself to Jane and Amy. Or perhaps her mother was still upset that Ellen was the first to leave the Catholic church. Either way, now that her father was gone she felt suddenly alone, without an ally.
Ellen studied her mother. She looked too thin and her face was drawn and pale. There was more gray in her hair than there had been two years earlier when Ellen was last in Petoskey. Her mother’s eyes had dark circles beneath them, and every move she made looked painful.
Jane must have noticed the changes, too, for she looked worried. “How are you, really, Mom?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Ellen placed a hand on her mother’s back. “I wish he was here so he could say something to make us laugh again.”
Her mother nodded and straightened, wiping her tears. She leaned over and hugged Ellen. “We’ll be all right. We’re together now. Come on, let’s go inside. We can talk there.”
Inside, Amy and Frank sat on the living room sofa and Aaron filled the matching oversized chair. His legs took up half the floor space in the room. He wore dark sunglasses and his arms were crossed tightly in front of him. Ellen thought he looked like an angry prisoner, daring anyone to get past the walls that surrounded him.
Amy stood up and hugged her sisters, then leaned over to kiss the children.
“Where’s Papa?” Kala asked. She was still half asleep, her wispy blond hair pressed against her face from the long car ride.
“Oh, honey,” Amy said and her eyes grew damp. “He’s in heaven now. But he’s very, very happy there and you know he still loves you, right?”
Kala started to cry. “I want my Papa.” Jane lifted the child into her arms to console her.
Amy turned to Ellen, and the two hugged while Aaron remained motionless in the chair.
“Hi, Aaron.” Ellen positioned herself so her brother could not help but see her.
Aaron grunted, which told Ellen little had changed. She wondered what kind of war was raging inside his head and heart that he had to work so hard to hide his feelings.
“Did you bring your bags in?” Her mother glanced at Ellen as she shut the door and searched the living room.
“No. I think we’re staying at Megan’s. Is that right?” Ellen didn’t want to assume anything. Not with Jane on edge and their mother an emotional wreck.
“Right.” Megan looked at their mother.
“Well, I suppose.” Mom shrugged. “I just thought we could all stay here and be a family again. Like old times.”
Ellen cringed inwardly as she imagined trying to share a shower schedule with Aaron and Jane.
“Mom, I think we need more space. Especially for the children.” For once Ellen agreed wholeheartedly with Jane. “We’ll just be at Megan’s at night so we have a place to sleep and shower.”
“Oh. Well, I guess.” Their mother looked slightly put out. “Your Aunt Mary is staying with me so I guess I’ll be okay.”
“Mom, if you want us to stay here, just say so,” Ellen jumped in. She felt pierced by guilt.
“No, no. That’s all right. You go on ahead and stay with the girls. Amy and Frank will be at their house so we wouldn’t have all been together anyway It’s fine.”
Everyone found seats around the living room, and Jane put the children in the den to watch cartoons. When she returned they rehashed the events that led up to their father’s heart attack. They talked about his unhealthy eating habits, his lack of exercise, and his habitual smoking. Everyone agreed that certainly his death was not a surprise. They talked about how much better it was that he had died quickly without any pain or suffering and how terrible it would have been if he had died from diabetes complications.
“He could have lost his legs or his kidneys,” their mother said. “Or worse, his eyes. That would have been so hard for your father.”
Ellen felt sick as she pictured her father blind or without legs. Mom was right. Had he lived much longer the amputation of his lower limbs would have been a very real possibility. He had varicose veins and terrible circulation. Over time the diabetes would only have made the problem worse.
Ellen sat in silence as the others talked about how their father was in a better place now.
“He knew he didn’t have long,” her mother said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Ellen looked at her mother in surprise.
“When we were in Las Vegas last spring he told me he didn’t think he’d live much beyond the end of the year.”
“What? Why didn’t he tell me that?”
Jane rolled her eyes but Ellen ignored her.
“I don’t know I guess he realized he hadn’t followed the doctor’s advice after his surgery and he figured he was using up his last chance. He told me his quality of life had slipped and he didn’t want anymore surgeries or any drastic measures taken. He was at peace with God and himself and he was ready to go.”
“Mother, he was only fifty-four!” Megan said angrily. “He should have been thinking about how he could change his life and get himself healthy again.”
“Megan,” their mother said softly. “It’s been a long time since he was healthy. You know that.”
There was silence and then the reminiscing started again, as though they had to talk about every memory, every recollection they could think of—as though that somehow kept him alive and in their midst.
When they had exhausted every subject concerning their dad’s poor health, they started over and talked about his last day again. Through it all, Aaron sat stone silent, unmoving and apparently detached from the others.
Finally at six that evening, during a lull in the conversation, Megan stood up and massaged her temples.
“I’m going for a walk,” she announced. “Anyone want to come?”
Ellen rolled onto her feet and stretched her hands over her head as she yawned. “I’ll go. Mom, what are we doing for dinner?”
“Pizza. It’ll be here in about thirty minutes.”
Ellen looked at Jane, determined to make an effort. “Wanna come?”
Jane shook her head quickly. “No. That’s all right. I need to change the kids and get them a snack. The cartoons are over and they need some attention.” She hesitated. “Besides, I’m sure you two will have plenty to talk about without me tagging along.”
Ellen ignored the comment. “Aaron?”
He uttered an imperceptible sound.
“Aaron, would you like to take a walk?” Ellen could feel the rising tension but she was determined to get an answer from him.
“I said, no! Are you deaf?”
Ellen turned, ignoring her brother’s outburst. “Mom, we’ll be back in a while.”
She joined Megan outside, leaned against the front door, and sighed. She had never worked so hard to be kind to people in all her life.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Megan seemed to read her mind and grimaced sadly.
“You feel it, too?”
“The tension? Of course. Aaron and Jane are like time bombs, and who knows what Amy’s thinking.”
“Tell me something, Megan.” Ellen walked down the stone sidewalk toward the road and Megan fell in alongside her. “I know I’ve been gone four years and things change for everyone …”
“That’s for sure.”
“But what in the world happened? When did we all get to be strangers?”
Megan’s eyes narrowed and she stared upward, still walking. When she spoke her voice was a strangled whisper. “I don’t know, Ellen. I just don’t know. But it’s something we’ve got to figure out, or I’m afraid we’ll never get back to being a family again.”
Ten
There were no sidewalks so the girls walked on the right side of the worn road. The temperature had dropped considerably and a cool breeze filtered through the ancient maple trees that lined the street. Megan and Ellen rounded the corner.
“Gosh, what’s wrong with Jane?”
“Oh, you mean Miss Congeniality?” Ellen uttered a short laugh. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”
“She’s not being fair to Dad, do you think?”
“I don’t know. She thinks Dad didn’t love her like he loved you and me.”
“That’s crazy.” Megan slowed her pace, clearly frustrated.
“I agree.” Ellen shrugged. “But those are her feelings. I just wish she could remember the good times.”
Megan kicked up a piece
of asphalt. “I keep thinking of that Thanksgiving several years ago before she and Troy moved to Arizona. You were in Miami, but everyone else ate dinner at Mom and Dad’s. All through the meal Dad kept saying how we should consider all God had given us and be thankful for what we had.”
Ellen gazed at the treetops, remembering. “He loved the Lord, that’s for sure.”
“Always did.” Megan paused. “Anyway, that evening when we were done eating he found one of those heavy paper plates Mom keeps around. He piled it high with turkey and potatoes and lime salad and pumpkin pie and then he wrapped it up in clear plastic.”
Ellen stopped walking and looked at her sister. “I never heard about this.”
Megan sighed. “That’s because Jane never talks about the good times. She remembers things the way she wants to remember them.”
We all do, Ellen thought. She started walking again. “So, what happened?”
“Well, Dad and Jane left the house and went driving around the Lamplight District looking for one of Petoskey’s two wandering alcoholics. It wasn’t very long before they found that older guy draped across the sidewalk in front of Michael’s Doughnuts.”
“What happened?”
“Dad and Jane got out of the car and walked up to the guy Dad handed him the plate, wished him a happy Thanksgiving, and told him to remember how much God loves him.”
Ellen smiled warmly, imagining the scene. “How’d you hear about that?”
“I was there when they got back and Jane told me all about it. She said Dad had tears in his eyes when he handed the man the plate. When they got back in the car, he told her he was proud of her for being a wonderful daughter and a terrific mother.”
“Maybe we should remind Jane of that when we get back,” Ellen offered. They walked past a sprawling farmhouse that had been renovated the year before. “At least she’d have one good memory.”
“I don’t know. She’d probably get mad at us for talking about her behind her back. That’s how she’s been lately.”
“You think so, too?” Ellen folded her arms and glanced at a barking dog across the street. “I thought it was just me.”
Where Yesterday Lives Page 12
