Where Yesterday Lives

by Karen Kingsbury

  When she spoke, her words were little more than a choked whisper. “I can’t, Jake.”

  Ellen watched him and knew he understood. He reached for her hand. “Okay. No hot tub. Let’s go back up and watch the lights.” He smiled softly at her. “There’s one spot along the deck that has the most incredible view.”

  Ellen exhaled softly and allowed Jake to lead her back up the stairs. As they walked, she thought about sitting beside Jake, watching the dazzling lights of Petoskey across Little Traverse Bay while hot water swirled around them. She shivered. That was close. Thank you, Lord.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Jake directed her to an alcove with a cozy wooden bench. The railing dipped along that part of the deck so that the view of the bay was unobstructed. They sat down together, gazing out at the water.

  “Beautiful.” Ellen’s eyes narrowed as she took in the distant lights and the bay as it shimmered under the glow of the moon. They sat there in comfortable silence, eventually leaning back and taking in the stars as well. Ellen closed her eyes and felt the tension melt away.

  She grew vaguely aware of something… something that bothered her. A strange buzzing sound. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a bumble bee making its way up her shoulder, toward her back. She screamed and batted at the insect, knocking it off her arm—but not before it stung her.

  “Owww!” She jumped to her feet, glancing about, making sure the insect was gone.

  Jake was up and at her side instantly. He took her arm gently and examined the red welt that had already appeared. He frowned, concerned. “Looks like he got you.”

  Ellen winced. “I know I can feel it.” She furrowed her brow and strained to see the sting. “Can you see a stinger?”

  Jake moved closer and examined the raised area. They stood toe-to-toe, a breeze from the bay swaying about them, separated only by a thin veil of night air. “It’s hard to see in this light.” He ran a finger over the sting. “Wait. I think I feel it.” His face was inches from hers. He gently pulled the tiny stinger loose and examined it. “There. I think I got it all.”

  “Ooo. It hurts.” Ellen strained once more to see the welt.

  “Sometimes if you rub it real good it doesn’t hurt so bad.” He still held her arm with one hand, and with the other he rubbed his fingers firmly over the sore area. “Is that better?” He looked up and their eyes locked.

  The mood changed instantly and the air around them seemed suddenly charged with electricity. The familiarity of the moment, the impossibility of it, enveloped them. Almost of its own accord, Ellen’s arm went up and around Jake’s neck and he pulled her imperceptibly closer.

  They were twenty years old again, crazy in love and aware of no one but each other. Their gazes locked, their faces inches apart. Then even that distance disappeared until it seemed to Ellen that the only thing she’d ever wanted to do was give in to the desire that had grown between them that week.

  Ellen’s breath rasped in her throat; her pulse pounded so she was sure Jake could hear it. Just once. I’ll kiss him and then let him go. Just once.

  But even as she tried to justify her intentions she knew she was lying to herself. If she kissed him now, it wouldn’t stop there. If she became involved with Jake Sadler after so many years, there would be no turning back. No marriage to go back to. No faith to restore.

  Once again, a verse drifted into her thoughts: “The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.”

  Ellen felt as though she’d been hit in the chest. Hard. She struggled to breathe, to move, but she couldn’t.

  It was Jake who came to his senses first.

  His cheek brushed hers as he drew close, pausing with his mouth near her lips, taking her breath away. Then, ever so tenderly, he kissed her forehead instead.

  “I don’t know why,” he whispered. “But I can’t.”

  Slowly, Ellen lowered her head and let it rest on his chest. She was trembling from both desire and shame. She knew why Jake couldn’t kiss her. After Leslie’s prayer, God simply wouldn’t let him. And, as though a voice was speaking in her head, in her heart, she heard: “He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear, but when tempted he will also provide a way out.” She closed her eyes, feeling desperate. What if I don’t want a way out, Lord? Please, please show me. I can’t do this on my own. I can’t walk away from this—

  Jake’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “If you weren’t married…” Each word was an effort and she could see he was fighting with himself. “I’d do everything I could to make you mine, Ellen.”

  He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. Then he pulled away, his eyes filled with regret. “But not like this.”

  Only when she exhaled did she realize she’d been holding her breath, waiting, afraid of what would—or wouldn’t—happen. She remembered a hundred times when they had given in to these very feelings. But not now. Not when it could only bring them pain. All of them.

  “I was thinking no one would know but us,” she whispered, ashamed but needing to be honest with him.

  His hold on her tightened. “No one else would need to know.” He drew a shaky breath. “Because we would never, ever forget.”

  She nodded then, knowing what he meant. “A day wouldn’t go by when I wouldn’t remember. Wonder. Want you.”

  “Me, too.” He took one hand away and tenderly brushed a lock of wispy hair off her face. “I couldn’t live like that, Ellen. And neither could you.”

  He let her go and framed her face with his fingertips, studying her intently, as though memorizing her features. “I love you. I loved you before Mike, and I love you still. But you belong to him; he was better for you than I was. He treated you like I only wish I’d treated you when I had the right. But I lost that right. And you still love him. You told me so yourself.”

  She nodded, savoring the feel of his fingers against her face and remembering the first time he had done that on a park bench near his parents’ home, the first time he had kissed her. She knew she should pull away, but there was one more thing she needed to ask him. She covered his hands with hers.

  “What if I had waited for you? If Mike and I had never met?”

  Jake’s eyes grew moist. “I’ve asked myself the same question dozens of times, and I always come up with the same answer.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it would have worked, Ellen.” He looked as though his heart might break. “I think maybe it took losing you for me to see what kind of man I was becoming, for me to change.”

  She nodded and lowered her hands slowly, staring down so he wouldn’t see her cry. He pulled her head to his chest again and stroked her hair as her tears spilled onto his canvas tennis shoes.

  Jesus, I wish I was stronger. I wish I could just walk away. But it’s so hard! It hurts so much. All I want is to be loved, Lord. Like Mike used to love me, like Jake loves me now…. Is that so wrong?

  This time the answer was swift, and it pierced her to the depths of her heart: “I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have drawn you with loving-kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt…. I will lead you beside streams of water, on a level path where you will not stumble, because I am your father.”

  The tears started afresh then, and she felt as though her heart was breaking. She’d been looking to Mike to love her. And her father. And, yes, to Jake. But the only one who could fill the void inside her was the very one she’d been turning away from.

  Forgive me…forgive me…

  After a while Ellen’s sobs lessened, and she sniffed, wiping her eyes and raising her gaze to Jake’s. “So, Bucko, where do we go from here?” She already knew the answer to that, but she needed to hear it from him.

  “We do the only thing we can,” he said. Gently he pulled himself away, separating their bodies. He let his arms drop to his side and he took a step back.

  “I’m listening.”

  “We see each other in a few da
ys at your dad’s funeral, and then we go our separate ways.”

  There was silence for a long moment.

  “You mean we say good-bye.” The idea of losing Jake now after finding him again and seeing how he had changed, cut deep. But she knew he was right. She wondered how much pain a person could take in a single week.

  Jake moved further away and stared across the bay at the glittering carpet of lights in Petoskey. “Yes,” he said, looking at her once more. “We say good-bye.”

  The tears came again and neither of them could talk. When she could trust her voice, she searched his eyes.

  “I’m not sorry I called you.”

  Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His eyes said it all.

  She went on. “No one else understood what I was going through this week. Not even Mike.”

  “I’ll never be sorry you called.”

  “When I remember the happy times, the years when my father was well and the rest of my family got along together, I see you, too, Jake. Being with you this week, talking with you, brought those memories back. Made them alive again. Made Dad alive again.”

  “For me, too.”

  She paused and stared out at the bay. Then slowly, she lowered herself back onto the bench. Jake watched and joined her, allowing a distance between them.

  “Don’t forget me, huh, Jake?” She tilted her head back toward him, took his hand in hers and allowed herself to be lost in his eyes once more.

  “Ellen.” Her name seemed like it was born on his lips and she could see he was still struggling to maintain his distance. “I never have,” he whispered, his tears brimming, ready to spill. “I never could.”

  Ellen nodded and the impossibilities hung in the air a moment longer. Then she sniffed and released his hand. “Take me home, okay?”

  Without saying a word they stood and returned to the house. Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of Ellen’s parents’ house.

  “I guess this is it.” She stared at her hands folded tightly in her lap.

  “No, I’ll be at the service. I promised you and I’ll be there.”

  She nodded quickly and gulped back a sob. “But it’ll be different.”

  He leaned over and pulled her to him, hugging her one final time before letting her go. “I do love you, Ellen. Now go home and make the best of things between you and Mike. Don’t cheat yourself of that because of what happened between us this week.”

  She nodded and, summoning every ounce of resolve, pulled away from him. “Good-bye, Jake,” she whispered. She touched his face once more and then slid out of his truck. She closed the door and without looking back she walked away.

  In that instant she knew with all her heart that God was still there for her, still listening. That night he had answered a prayer she had whispered nine years earlier. Because now, after seeing Jake again and knowing how he felt about her, only an act of God could have kept her from giving up everything and staying here in Petoskey with Jake Sadler.

  Twenty-six

  Family members began arriving at the Barrett home early Friday morning, and the long week leading up to the funeral came to a sudden end. There were Mom’s three sisters and one brother and their families, and Dad’s sister from California with her children and grandchildren. Dad’s parents had died years earlier, but Mom’s aging parents arrived with one of her sisters. After that there were other cousins, aunts, uncles, all arriving, all talking.

  Family members flowed through the house, many of them with tearstained eyes. The house was full of living reminders, of testimonies to how much John Barrett was loved, how much he’d be missed.

  As planned, Ellen and her siblings were dressed and gathered at their parents’ house by ten that morning, prepared to greet out-of-town relatives and help their mother with last-minute details. There were casserole dishes to receive, flowers to arrange, and conversations to take part in.

  Uncle Jess, Mom’s only brother, arrived with his wife, Betsy, and their six children. They lived in Grand Rapids, four hours south, and would spend the night at a local motel. They planned to be at the viewing later that night but had stopped at the Barrett home as soon as they got into town.

  Dressed in a straight gray dress and gray pumps, Ellen watched the relatives arrive, but it all seemed unreal. She still ached from the night before, feeling almost as bad as she had nine years earlier when she and Jake had broken up that last time. But now that Friday had finally come, Jake was no longer first on her mind. Somehow, with the arrival of relatives, her father’s death was indeed more real. They were gathered for one reason alone. John Barrett had died and it was time to say good-bye.

  Ellen looked around the room, thankful that Troy had arrived from his convention in time to distract Jane. The two sat together at the dining room table, and for the first time that week Ellen didn’t feel under attack. The children were quiet, watching a Disney video in the den and enjoying the company of Uncle Jess’s little ones.

  Across the room, Aaron filled up the living room chair, assuming John Barrett’s place in the family’s unspoken seating schematic. He was dressed in slacks and a slick white shirt with a subdued silk tie. He wore the dark sunglasses again and sat motionless, his arms crossed in front of him. Well-meaning relatives stayed clear of him, and Ellen knew that was what Aaron intended. The glasses hid his eyes but not the fact that he, too, was hurting.

  Megan looked stunning in a navy skirt and sleeveless jacket, her hair pulled back conservatively. She sat on the couch beside Ellen, with Amy and Frank on her other side. They were somber, lost in their private worlds of grief and the inevitability of the approaching funeral.

  Mom remained standing, greeting her siblings. She wore a black wraparound with pearl accents. It was a dress she had worn for her and Dad’s thirtieth wedding anniversary and Ellen wondered if anyone would remember.

  “Diane, how are you? Really?” Uncle Jess hovered over her. He was a large man with lumberjack hands and he had always reminded Ellen of Aaron. Her uncle spoke in hushed tones. His eyes were damp as he took their mother in his arms.

  “It all happened so fast,” she said.

  “I know, I know.” He rubbed her shoulder. “What was it? Just last month we were up for that beach party at Petoskey State Park?” Mom nodded, too emotional to speak. All week she’d held up so well, but now, looking into the eyes of her relatives, the sorrow seemed about to consume her.

  “Ellen, Megan.” Uncle Jess turned and nodded his greeting to the girls. He looked at the others then, one at a time. “I’m sorry about your father. He was a great man, one of a kind.” His voice rang with sincerity “One thing I’ll always remember about your family—” he looked from Jane to Aaron and around the room to the others—“you really loved each other. Not because you had to, but because you liked each other. That was really special. Somehow I think your dad had a lot to do with that.”

  For a brief instant Jane’s eyes met Ellen’s, but both turned away Uncle Jess looked to Mom again and hooked arms with her. He led her out of the room as they continued talking.

  The air was heavy as Uncle Jess’s words rattled around the room.

  “He doesn’t know us very well, does he?” Megan muttered. She crossed her arms in front of her and stared at the floor.

  Jane sighed and pretended to doodle invisible designs on the tablecloth. Ellen clucked her tongue softly and fiddled with her fingernails. Amy and Aaron stared into space, apparently intent on ignoring the uncomfortable currents in the room.

  The doorbell rang, and it was Aunt Betsy and her family from California. Their plane had arrived the day before at Detroit Metropolitan Airport and they had rented a car. They planned to stay several nights after the funeral so that Mom would not be alone once the others left.

  Aunt Betsy was crying as Megan welcomed them inside.

  “I’m so sorry about your dad.” She hugged Megan and turned to the others. “It’s hard to believe he’s gone. He was so…” She searched for th
e right word, struggling with her emotions. “I don’t know, so full of life.”

  Aunt Betsy sat down, joining the circle of siblings. Amy asked her about her flight.

  “It was fine, not that I noticed.” She wiped her tears daintily with her fingers. “I thought about your family the whole time. The trips to the lake, the ice-skating and football games. You kids have always been so close, such a great family.” She paused a minute. “Me and your uncle, we divorced years ago, you know. The two kids went their own way and well, I guess we never were much of a family really. But you guys—” she looked at them—“you guys had something really special. Whenever I think of how a family is supposed to be, how the kids should be close and the parents should love each other, I think of you.” She wiped her eyes again and pulled a tissue from her purse.

  “My brother must have been awfully proud of the family he raised. I’m so sorry he’s gone.” She looked at them, her eyes making a circle around the room. “At least you still have each other. No one can take that away from you.”

  She stood up then, dabbing at her face as she went to search for their mother.

  Ellen squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, as did Jane and Megan. Was that really how others saw them? A close-knit, loving family? Apparently so, for that same sentiment was expressed continually for the next two hours as people stopped to visit and then returned to their various motel rooms to prepare for the viewing.

  How fortunate Ellen and the others were, they would say, raised in a family where love had no limits. How close their relationships with one another were compared with other families…how blessed they were to have each other.

  Silently, Ellen was struck by the irony. She exchanged furtive glances with her siblings and saw by their faces they were feeling the same thing. When did we change so much, Lord? Or were we ever really the family everyone else remembers?