Another Yesterday

by Angela Christina Archer

  “Maybe telling them I’m okay isn’t, but telling them where I am is.”

  “Are they who you’ve been running from?”

  “No. Well, maybe a little. They wanted to make certain choices for me. Choices I didn’t agree with.”

  “I see.”

  “I know it was hard on them when I got pregnant and dropped out of school. But to even suggest what they did.” I closed my eyes, shakin’ my head.

  “Sometimes parents have a hard time letting go and they still see their children as young kids running around and needing help and guidance. I think they believe they know what’s best because they’ve been there or have lived though a similar situation. Perhaps they only meant to help, even if they were in the wrong.”

  I opened my eyes and glanced at my daughter sittin’ in the highchair as she shoved her fist in her mouth. A drop of drool rolled down her chin. One day I would have to let her go off into the world to make her own way, bitin’ my tongue at all the stupid choices and mistakes she would undoubtedly make. Of course, I wanted her to experience life, but to think she would do so in the same manners as I had downright scared me. She wouldn’t grow up in the same era as me. Nor would she grow up in the same place with the same situations and people around her. I couldn’t control where she would live or who—good or bad—she would fall in love with. I also couldn’t keep her from makin’ the mistakes that I did, and while I would never force her to give a baby up for adoption, I know Mama was raised different than I was. To her, it was the only choice because that’s all she knew. It wasn’t an excuse by any means, but at least I understood it a little more.

  “I’ll leave you to your letter.” Helen set the plate down in front of me. “Perhaps my homemade meatloaf and a side of mashed potatoes and green beans will be just the thing to help you find the words.”

  “Ya do realize I’m just one person, right?” I asked, my eyes widenin’ over the heapin’ pile of meat and two mountains of green beans and potatoes sittin’ in front of me.

  “Ah, you know me. I tend to over serve.” She winked then set down the glass of water too.

  “Don’t get me wrong, your cookin’ is amazin’. I just hate wastin’ it sometimes.”

  She shrugged. “Oh, it won’t go to waste. I throw what I can in bags for Claire’s compost pile. It helps her garden and reduces the waste around here. Now, sit, eat, and enjoy while I go chop up some noodles for Rachel.”

  As she walked back into the kitchen, I glanced out the window, spyin’ the moon risin’ over the ocean. Its bright glow sparkled on the waves. The exact peace and calm I needed as I slid the notepad over in front of me and picked up the pencil.

  Dear Mama and Daddy,

  I just wanted to let y’all know Rachel and I are all right. We are happy and healthy and are living in a real nice place with good people. I know ya said what ya did the last time we talked because ya were only tryin’ to help. But it’s not the right kind of help I need right now. I need to figure this out on my own and I know I will. I forgive ya as I hope ya can forgive me for the pain I’ve caused ya. I will write again soon. I hope ya both are good.

  Love,

  Maggie.

  I exhaled a deep breath as I reached for my glass of water, not lookin’ first. My nails hit the side of the glass, and instead of wrappin’ around it, the tips of my fingers bounced off and it tipped over. It crashed down onto the table and sent water splashin’ across Rachel’s chest and down into her lap. She screamed as the ice hit her and the water drenched her.

  “Oh, no! Oh, Rachel I’m so sorry.” I shoved the chair back as I jumped to my feet and yanked her out of the highchair. I didn’t know what to do first—wipe her off, strip her down, or clean up the water and ice spilled all over the tablecloth and the floor. “Shh,” I bounced her as I whispered in her ear. “Just let me clean this up and then I’ll take ya upstairs to change your clothes. Shh, it’s all right.”

  I set her down on the floor as I scooped up the ice in my towel and dropped it back into the glass. She sat for a moment, cryin’, then grabbed my sleeve, yankin’ on it as big teardrops streamed down her cheeks.

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry. Just give me a moment.”

  I gathered up several ice cubes and whipped a napkin open, layin’ it on the spilled water.

  “Maggie?” Helen strode out of the kitchen, lettin’ the door slam shut. “Is Rachel all right?”

  Before I could utter a word, she rushed over and scooped Rachel into her arms. “How did you get all wet, Munchkin?” she asked her.

  “I spilled my water on her by accident.”

  “Oh, dear, it’s all right.” She bounced my daughter in her arms. “I know you’re probably cold. Maggie, do you mind if I take her up and get her in some dry clothes?”

  “Oh, um, sure. Her bag is the one at the foot of the bed.”

  Without another word, Helen trotted out of the dinin’ room and up the stairs while I finished cleanin’ up the mess.

  By the time I’d made it to my room, Helen was just zippin’ up Rachel’s pajamas.

  “It was the warmest thing I could find. The poor thing. Her skin was freezing.”

  “I bet. I mean it was a big glass of ice water.”

  “Well, she’s all better now.” Helen gave me a sideways glance as she poked around at different spots on Rachel’s wiggly body, makin’ Rachel laugh. “So, you left the kitchen rather quickly this afternoon when Nancy and Claire were here.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t something we said.”

  “Oh, no. No, I just needed to get her down for a nap.”

  Helen eyed me for a moment then shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Did Nancy or Claire think it was because of them?”

  “No, I don’t think they did. I just wondered if it was us or perhaps something James might have said before we came in.”

  “No, not him either.” I lied.

  “Well, he was sure flustered after your conversation. I could tell.”

  “He was?”

  “He came in later this evening for dinner, before you came down of course, and spent the whole night looking around the place as if he thought you would just pop up out of nowhere.” Helen laughed, standin’ Rachel up. She made faces at my daughter while she clapped her little hands together and lightened her voice. “I think he likes your mommy.” She pressed her forehead into Rachel’s. “Yes, he does. Don’t you think so too, Munchkin?”

  “That’s stupid. He couldn’t possibly like me—and he shouldn’t.”

  “And why is that? You’re a beautiful young woman—”

  “With a child and who doesn’t want a relationship.”

  Helen laughed. “Your mommy is crazy,” she said to Rachel.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” I cocked my head to the side and rested one hand on my hip, glancin’ at Rachel myself. “Can ya believe she’s makin’ fun of me?” Rachel let out a squeal and stuck her fist in her mouth, chewin’ on her fingers.

  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Helen asked me.

  “Who, James?”

  “Yes.” She winked.

  I shrugged, hopin’ to mask the impression I agreed with her more than I wanted to admit. “I suppose so.”

  “And you also left before Claire told us what she knows about him. He moved here about a year ago. He owns a cabin sitting on several hundred acres near the lighthouse, and then he owns another house with some land on the edge of town. He’s got quite the assets when it comes to bank accounts and houses, if you know what I mean.”

  “Why, Helen Stanford, ya are nothin’ but a big ole’ gossip.”

  She waved off my accusation. “I’m not repeating anything Claire hasn’t told me.” She paused. “Speaking of Claire, did you and Nancy have a good time?”

  “Yeah, I think so. She’s really nice.”

  “She’s about your age, perhaps a year younger. You are, what, eighteen, nineteen?”

  �
�Nineteen a couple of months ago.”

  “Well, then, yeah, she’s your age. I just thought you two should meet since, well, you haven’t given me a check out date yet. I thought perhaps it would be nice for you to make a friend here. Claire said Nancy doesn’t really have many friends around town either.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned that.”

  “Well I’m glad you two could meet. It sounds like maybe you guys can spend some time together. She’s been bugging Claire for a couple of weeks about moving out on her own. Claire thinks it might not be a good idea. But maybe if she found a roommate Claire might change her mind.” She paused, glancing at me as she bit her lip. “You know I can look after Rachel anytime you need. Like if you wanted to go to dinner or to lunch, and I can watch her next Friday night, too. Isn’t that when you guys are going out to dinner and to the bonfire?”

  “Oh, ya don’t have to do that.”

  “But I want to. I don’t mind. I just love this little face so much. How could I not want to spend every waking moment with her?” She swung around, holdin’ Rachel against her body with one hand while she clutched my daughter’s hand in the other, as though she was leadin’ her in a waltz around the dance floor.

  Although I loved seein’ the woman cradle my daughter, the sight of it also brought a stabbin’ pain to my heart. It should be her own Gran’momma who talked in such a way about her, wantin’ to spend each wakin’ day in her company. Instead, it was a stranger. A woman I’d only known for a little over a month and one I had no blood relation to.

  “You know,” Helen said, handin’ me Rachel. “Maybe you could talk to Nancy about her plans. Might help you make some for yourself.”

  “Are ya tryin’ to get rid of us?”

  “No, no. Not at all. I just thought . . . maybe if you wish to stay, you could, and perhaps you could find a job.”

  I dropped my gaze. “I know I need to make a choice and decide what to do. I should look over a calendar, get some things figured out so I can give ya the room back.”

  She clutched my arm. Her eyes were soft with curiosity and concern. “That’s not why I brought it up, Maggie. I want you to stay as long as you like. I guess I just didn’t know your plans for the future.”

  “I haven’t really thought of it myself.” I bit my lip for a moment. “It would be nice to stay since I’ve grown rather fond of the town. But I would need a job, and here? I wouldn’t even know where to start lookin’. In such a small town, it seems like everyone already has everythin’ covered. Do you know anyone hirin’?”

  She leaned against one of the bedposts. “Actually, I do.”

  “Where?”

  “Well, that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. As you can probably tell, I’m not getting any younger, and well, I have been thinking of hiring someone who could help me run the inn. This person would help cook and serve the meals, clean the rooms, check-in guests, you know things that just need to be done. I’ve always been able to handle it on my own, but well, like my grandmother before me, it’s getting harder and harder for me.”

  “I can’t really cook. I’ve tried and I’m not good at it.”

  “But I can teach you. I can pay you a good wage, too.”

  “What about Rachel?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. She can come here with you.”

  “She’s only gonna get older and more in the way.”

  “Which is something we can worry about later. For now, she’s a doll and I’d love to have her here with us.”

  “Are ya sure?”

  She rubbed her hand up and down my arm. “I couldn’t be more sure of anything.”

  “Well, then, I guess . . . when do ya want me to start?”

  SEVEN

  Over the next several days Helen taught me the ins and outs of checking in and checking out guests, seeing to their needs, and cleaning up the rooms both after the guests left and during their stay. While there hadn’t been many visitors in the time I’d been there so far—or much during the week—the warm spring weekends had brought travelers from around the country, eager to see the sights and hear the sounds of New England, and the inn I had once shared with only a few couples here and there was now bustling with people.

  “We should start getting ready for lunch. Tuesday is always my busiest day after Monday night’s dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. I use the meatballs to make hoagies, and they are kind of popular around here.”

  As we reached the last step on the staircase, the front door opened and along with another man, James came inside. The sight of him stopped me in my tracks.

  “Good afternoon, Helen. Maggie,” he said.

  “Afternoon, James.” Helen gave him a pat on the back, before laying her hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Pastor Dawson, I haven’t seen you in here in a while. How are Rebecca and Luke doing? I didn’t see them in church this last Sunday.”

  “Oh, they are doing well. Luke had a mild temperature and Rebecca didn’t want to chance getting another kid sick if it ended up he had a cold.” He glanced at me. “You must be the Maggie I’ve heard so much about.”

  “Depends on what ya heard.”

  The pastor chuckled. “All good things, I assure you. I was actually glad to hear Helen was able to finally find someone she trusts to help her.”

  “Yes, my prayers were definitely answered. Maggie also has a daughter about the same age as Luke. She’s absolutely adorable and I just love having her around.”

  “It’s a good age,” he said, nodding. “They are starting to communicate.”

  “I could do with a little break from her crawlin’ around and gettin’ into everythin’ she can get her hands on,” I said.

  “Which, I assume, always ends up in her mouth.”

  “Every single time.”

  Pastor Dawson and I both laughed as we nodded in agreement.

  “So, are you two gentlemen here for lunch?” Helen asked.

  “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” James asked as he clasped his hands, rubbin’ them together. “I’ve been craving for one of those meatball sandwiches since last week.”

  “Ah, yes, they are quite popular.”

  While she led them into the dinin’ room, the front door opened again and several more townspeople came inside. They each glanced in my direction but didn’t say a word. Instead they passed me. Two then four then six then eight then ten—they all seated themselves at different tables around the room.

  “Maggie? Are you coming?” Helen called out.

  I scurried around the corner, skiddin’ to a stop as I nearly ran into her.

  “Can you get everyone the menus?”

  “Won’t they just get the meatball sandwiches?”

  “I’m not sure. Not everyone does. Might as well get them the menus anyway just in case.” She glanced over toward several of the couples. “She’ll be right with you all in just a minute.”

  Although she spoke to the patrons, she nodded at me then pointed her chin toward a stack of folded menus sittin’ in a basket near the hutch on the wall, as if to silently tell me to get them.

  I darted across the room, yankin’ several of the menus from the wicker.

  Before I could get them to a couple of the tables, however, the people had called Helen over to order and she waved me off as if to tell me to move onto the next table to see if they needed them or not. While I never imagined takin’ care of five tables would be hard, it was. And I had yet to take an order or even serve food.

  “Maggie, why don’t you take James and Pastor Dawson’s order while I start in the kitchen. I’ve taken care of those two over there, but I need you to handle those two other couples over there, and anyone else who comes in. All right?”

  “Um, yeah, okay.”

  As she disappeared behind the kitchen door, I spun toward the basket to return the menus, but after takin’ a few steps, I panicked.

  Take care of the customers, first, stupid.

  I spun back around, tuckin’ the menus und
er my arms as I made my way to their table. “Sorry. I . . . didn’t think . . . are you ready to order?”

  James chuckled under his breath and cleared his throat.

  “It’s quite all right,” Pastor Dawson said. “Are you ready for the order?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want to get something to write it down on?”

  “Oh!” I backed away a few steps. “Yeah, I probably should do that. Um. Hold on.” I ran off toward the kitchen door to fetch a pad of paper from Helen. Before I reached the door, though, I remembered one sittin’ on the front desk. Changin’ directions, I ran out of the dinin’ room, fetched the pad, and ran back in, reachin’ the table out of breath.

  “All right . . . I’m . . . I’m ready.”

  “Are you sure about that?” James asked, chucklin’ again.

  I cast him a glare, growlin’ at him. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “And what are you planning to write with?”

  “Damn it!” I stomped my foot. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Pastor. I didn’t . . .”

  “It’s quite all right.” He gave me a wink as he slid his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here, you can use my pen.”

  “Thank you.”

  My hand trembled as I wrote down what they each wanted.

  “May we have two glasses of water, too, please?” James asked.

  “Of course. I’ll get them first.”

  By the time I returned with their waters, several more people had come in and sat down. My heart thumped as I passed out menus, gathered orders, and delivered drinks over and over. Each time I went into the kitchen, Helen would hand me more plates laden with food, and by the time the room had dwindled back down to just James and the pastor, my forehead was slick with sweat and my shirt was drenched in the tomato soup I spilled on myself.

  “Are ya finished with your plates?” I asked the two men.

  They both nodded, and as I grabbed them, Pastor Dawson leaned forward, restin’ his elbows on the table.

  “So, are we going to see you in church this coming Sunday, Maggie?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”