Another Yesterday

by Angela Christina Archer

  “Yeah, that too.” I spun in a couple of circles. “The hallway is in pretty good shape. Maybe just a fresh coat of paint and some new pictures in frames.”

  “The biggest room? Is that the one that has the view of the garden and the ocean?”

  “Yeah. I’m staying in it right now, but I can move my things out and down into the bedroom off the office. It’s where Helen lived when she owned it. In fact, I’ll do that tonight. This is home now, after all, I might as well. My dad is in that room over there, I’d like for him to stay there so we should do it last.”

  “Whatever you think is best. What does the big room need?”

  “The bathroom is having some pipe issues. They make odd noises when you turn on the hot nozzle in the shower and, well, just like the rest of the place, it needs new paint or wallpaper. I think most of the furniture is fine. But I need new linens—sheets, pillows, comforters, and drapes.”

  “Sounds like a trip to Bangor is in your future.” He chuckled. “Might as well look into those business classes while you’re in the city.”

  “Yeah, I’ll probably go by the end of the week. I just need make a list of how many sets I need so I can get them all in one trip. I’m just worried about fitting it all in my parents’ old bug.” I laughed.

  “They still have that thing?”

  “Of course. It’s a classic.”

  “If you want me to take you in the truck just let me know.”

  My heart skipped a beat and heat flushed my cheeks, spreading around to the back of my neck. “I will. Thank you.”

  I opened the door; pausing as I stepped inside and saw the condition I’d left it in. My clothes—including several pairs of panties, were strewn on the floor and on the bed, and my bras were hanging from off the back of the vanity chair.

  I spun around, and our bodies collided.

  Instinct made him stick out his arm to help me balance, but before he touched me, he jerked his hand away and backed up a few steps.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. But maybe we should start with another room.” I pointed to another door. “That one might be better.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Let me guess, clothes everywhere?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Rachel, I dated you for three years. Don’t you think I saw the condition of your bedroom more times than I could count? You’ve never been someone who fancies being on the tidy side.”

  I stuck my hands on my hips. “Hey, now.”

  “Well, it’s true. We were always having to . . .” He ducked his chin, pausing on his thought.

  “Having to what?”

  “Move your clothes off the bed.”

  I bit my lip, remembering all the stolen afternoons when my parents weren’t home. I couldn’t even count how many times we slept together in my bed. It had to have been in the thousands. I’d known him so well. Knew his touch, knew where he liked to be kissed. Knew what would drive him to grab the back of my headboard, jerking on it so hard I thought for sure he’d break it.

  “Yes, well, that aside, we were dating then, and it was okay for you to see my unmentionables.”

  “Unmentionables? What are you, eighty years old?” He snorted. “And, Rachel, I distinctly remember taking off your underwear with my teeth. I think seeing them now isn’t going to matter. Unless your husband will mind.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Speaking of which, is he around here somewhere?”

  “He’s not my husband anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s fine. No one in town knows except for Nancy and my dad. I even lied to everyone at my mother’s funeral.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Um, I signed my divorce papers the day my mom died.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m sorry still to hear it. Sucks when things don’t pan out how we thought they would.”

  Although he could have been talking about us, I got the feeling he wasn’t. At least not fully. “Bridget told me . . . she told me about your fiancée.”

  “Elizabeth. She decided it wasn’t right . . . or I wasn’t right, I don’t know. She just ended it. Mailed me the ring in a letter while I was overseas.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “That’s awful.”

  “It was, or is, but I figure if she can be that heartless, it’s probably best we didn’t get married. I wouldn’t have wanted to go through a divorce.” He leaned up against the wall, stuffing one of his hands in his pocket.

  “I caught my husband—ex-husband, I mean—in bed with another woman. In our bed, actually. And he loved her. And she is pregnant with their baby. And they now live in our house.”

  “Wow. That just got worse and worse by the sentence.”

  “I know, right?” I waved one hand as I laughed. “So terrible.”

  “At least you can laugh about it.”

  “Eh, what else am I going to do?”

  “Go home.” He laughed as he jerked his chin toward the door to the room, my room. “So, shall we start in there?”

  I threw both hands up in the air then grabbed the knob, twisting it before I popped the door open. “Might as well. Just ignore the mess and ignore what you see.”

  He held up his hand, making a weird hand signal. “Scouts honor.”

  “Were you even in the scouts?”

  “Not a single day.”

  As I laughed again, he strolled past me, turning sideways again to get his toolbox in through the door. “Wow. I think you might have gotten worse.”

  “Oh shut up.”

  I followed him inside the room, darting around him to kick two pairs of panties under the bed.

  “Nice.” He pointed at something over my shoulder and as I spun, finding my teal, lace bra laying out for the world to see, I cringed.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ve seen it. Big deal.”

  “A lot fancier than the ones you used to wear in high school.”

  “If you’re trying to make me blush it’s not going to work.”

  He moved around me, pausing for a moment as he stared at me. My heart kicked up several beats faster. He leaned in. “You might want to look in a mirror before you claim you aren’t blushing.”

  As he laughed, I slapped his arm. “The bathroom is right through there. Don’t let the door hit you on the way in.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the expression, but I’m going to let it slide.”

  While he vanished behind the bathroom door, I scurried around the room, picking up clothes and throwing them either into a pile to be washed, or back in the drawer. Not even bothering to fold them, I just moved, ignoring the loud sound of the pipes humming.

  Luke’s head popped out from the crack in the door. “I’m going to have to open up the wall to expose the pipes.”

  “And how long will it take to fix everything.”

  “Most bathroom remodels can take a day or two, depending on what material is used. I would say though, if you’re going to do it, do it good. Make it nice. I can do fast and good, or a bit slower and beautiful.”

  I wiped my hand across my forehead. “I’d rather have the latter.”

  “Are the other bathrooms bad?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Go check and see. If I have to do more repairs to walls or showers or even the sinks and cabinets, I’d like to buy everything all at once.”

  Several hours later, and after I moved my stuff down into the main bedroom off the office, I headed into the kitchen. My stomach growled from missing lunch and the thought of the turkey sandwich Nancy had brought me sitting in the refrigerator made my mouth water.

  I grabbed one of the wrapped hoagies and hoisted myself up onto the counter, kicking off my flip-flops as I unwrapped the French roll filled with meat and cheese, and took a huge bite.

  “Ugh. Needs mayo.”

  I jumped off the counter, fetched the mayo, and after smothering on a thick
layer, I returned to my seat, this time grunting slightly as I bounded back up onto the counter.

  “Oh, that’s better.”

  The kitchen door swung opened and Luke entered, glancing at me as he made his way to the sink to wash his hands.

  “What’s better?” he asked. Before I could answer, though, he continued. “Didn’t have enough mayo the first time?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Three years, Rachel. Three years. I think after so long I would know you pretty well.”

  “Fair enough.” I took another bite and cocked my head to the side. “But it’s not like I haven’t changed, either. I mean, I have. I’m not the same girl you once knew.”

  He squeezed the soap bottle, watching a few drops drip out onto the palm of his hand. “Like what? How have you changed?”

  “Well . . .” I paused, thinking. I had to think of something. Right? This shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. I’d lived in New York for Pete’s sake. I’d been a New Yorker. That had to count for something. Going from a town with a population of a couple hundred people to a city of millions would change anyone. Even me. “I drink coffee now.”

  He blew out a raspberry. “Everyone starts drinking coffee as an adult.”

  “But I bet you don’t know how I take it.”

  He rinsed his hands, letting the water rush over them for a moment before he turned the water off, shook them, and fetched the towel hanging off one of the cabinets. “But that’s not a fair question.”

  “How so?”

  “If you never drank coffee while we were together then I wouldn’t know how you’d take it. So therefore, that’s not something you changed.”

  Good point.

  Crap.

  “You sure have been talking a lot about the past and our relationship,” I said. With a smirk on my lips, I mocked him with my tone, hoping he wouldn’t see my need for a distraction to the fact maybe I hadn’t changed as much as I thought I had. “I think maybe you are somehow trying to relive it or something.”

  He jerked his head back and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s not true.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  His smile vanished and without a word, he strode over to the fridge, fetched his sandwich and left the kitchen, letting the door slam behind him.

  “What was that for?” I muttered to myself. For a moment, I stared at the door, thinking it would open again and he would come back inside. The notion I had angered him twisted in my stomach, and as I looked down at my sandwich, I suddenly just wanted to throw it away. While I had only been trying to joke around with him—albeit doing so by saying something I probably shouldn’t have—I had only hoped to get him to change the subject. Pure and simple.

  When the door did, finally, swing open again, it wasn’t him, but Nancy who popped inside the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong with Luke?” she asked. “He seems hotter than a raccoon with rabies.”

  “I guess I must have said something to make him mad.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Well, he’s been bringing up the past a lot today and I jokingly mentioned it, asking if he was trying to relive it or something like that.” As the words poured from my lips I cringed. “It was really awful for me to say it.”

  She nodded. “Kind of, yeah.”

  I buried my face in my hands. “Ugh. Why did I have to open my big mouth?”

  “I know why, but I don’t think you’re going to like the answer.”

  “If you are thinking of telling me I still have feelings for that man I will slap you.”

  She laughed. “Harsh! Going right for the physical threats, are we now? I must have struck a nerve.”

  “You didn’t strike anything.”

  “But it’s true. Or maybe it’s just true for him, I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  I leapt off the counter, striding over to her. “Are you saying he still has feelings for me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if he does. I was just talking for the sake of talking.” She waved her arms in the air and spun, heading for the door. “I just wanted to come by and see what you and James wanted for dinner.”

  “I thought I would just fire up the grill and make us a couple of hamburgers.”

  She paused with the door open. “Then I’ll go home and won’t worry about coming back until tomorrow.”

  Although she vanished, her words stayed behind, repeating inside my head. Had she really just been talking to talk—as she had tried to explain it away—or had there been talk around town I didn’t know about? Had Pastor Dawson set it up where his son and I would be together all day, every day in the hopes we would get back together? Had Luke said anything, telling people he wanted to work on the inn so he could be around me?

  So many questions, and the thought of all the answers made my head spin.

  SEVENTEEN

  Luke left that night without even a goodbye, and for the next few days, he worked as much as he could without crossing my path or asking me any questions, sticking to different projects he knew needed his attention, but also didn’t need any further instructions from me on how I wanted it done.

  It wasn’t all him who did the avoiding, though. I made sure I didn’t cross his path, either, keeping mainly to my office during the day as I cleaned and organized my desk, files, and unpacked my belongings that I had packed and shipped from New York into the downstairs bedroom.

  I didn’t want to see him anymore than he wanted to see me, and it wasn’t until he left for the evening tonight that I ventured out of my office, heading for the kitchen to grab the pitcher of iced tea and two glasses before making my way out onto the back deck where Dad sat watching the waves roll across the sand.

  “Are you going to tell me why Luke and you are giving each other the silent treatment?” he asked. Settled in the swing on the back porch, he took the glass of tea I handed to him, grunting a few deep breaths.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I poured myself a glass before I made my way over to the swing, too, sitting down next to him.

  “You know darn well what I’m talking about.”

  “All right, fine. I know. But I’d just rather not talk about it right now if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll give you that one.” He blew out a breath and sipped some tea.

  “When did you move the swing set over here?” I asked, pointing over to the side of the deck.

  “When we sold the house at the edge of town. The new owners wanted it, but I couldn’t part with it. We used to have so much fun on that swing set. You would beg me to push you non-stop.”

  “Which you obliged, by the way.”

  “Of course, I did.” He snorted. “Drove your mother crazy, too. She wanted you to learn how to swing yourself instead of needing me.”

  “So why didn’t you just teach me?”

  “I guess I wasn’t ready to be unneeded. The older you got the more independent you got and soon you had more important things to do—like hang out with Bridget or Luke.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be sorry. Never be sorry for growing up. I mean, as parents, it’s our jobs to raise you to take care of yourself. You’re supposed to not need us.”

  “But I could have still hung out with you two more.”

  “You were young, and you wanted to enjoy life with your friends. It’s not like we didn’t do the same when we were young. Your mother more than me, of course, because of her strained relationship with her parents.”

  “I spoke to Grandma after mom died. I called her wanting to know if she’d heard and if they were coming to the funeral. Of course, she said she wasn’t in a good place to travel. She seemed so cold, like she didn’t even care.”

  “A lot happened between your mother and them. She never really told me any details, and never wanted to talk about it. I didn’t press the issue either. I figured if she wanted to tel
l me, she would.”

  I thought of the last time I had actually seen my grandparents. While I’d spoken to them over the phone a couple of dozens of times in my lifetime, I’d only seen them once. I was twelve and we had gone to South Carolina to visit them. Mom had questioned whether or not it was a good idea the whole drive down and I remember her hesitating while we stood on the front porch. Her finger hovered over the doorbell for what felt like hours before she finally pressed it.

  “I remember the one time we visited them, and how Mom and Grandma got into that big fight and we left.”

  “It was a good and bad trip. I kept thinking at least we got to eat some good food and see a couple of states in our travels.”

  “They fought over you and Mom not having any more kids. Which I always thought of as odd because Grandma acted like she didn’t even like me.” I paused, fidgeting with my fingers as the memories of her coldness toward me replayed. “Why didn’t you guys have any more kids?”

  “Just wasn’t in the cards for us. I mean, it wasn’t like we didn’t try.” He winked.

  “Gah! Dad. Gross.” I covered my ears.

  He laughed. “What? You’re an adult now, and you asked.”

  “And I’m regretting it.”

  He laughed again. “We just didn’t though. But as for your mother and her parents, that’s probably a road best not traveled down.”

  “Is that why you guys moved from South Carolina to here? To get away from them?”

  His eyebrows furrowed as he sat in silence. Whether he stewed on my questions or his answers, I didn’t know, but instead of uttering a word, he just shrugged and cleared his throat.

  “What are you hiding?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. We moved into the inn to be happy, and that’s all you need to know.” He patted my shoulder. “What night is it? Friday?”

  “Yeah, I think it is Friday.”

  “Might be quite a crowd down at Moe’s tonight. You should go down and see some friends. Talk to some people.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I should. I’ve got so much to do.”

  “You’ve been working so hard at the inn and taking care of me—which I don’t think you need to do as much as you do.” I opened my mouth to disagree, but he held up his hand and continued. “Go and have some fun. Have a beer or two, eat a good lobster roll. I’m just going to watch a bit of TV and then go to bed.”