Yours Since Yesterday

by Jennifer Bernard

  “N…” She couldn’t complete the word, which could have been “Nate” or “No.”

  “Can you try a smile? I know this isn’t exactly a good time to laugh it up, but try.”

  She produced a grimace, one side of her mouth rising, the other drooping.

  “Oh my God,” cried Zoe. “Oh my God!” Padric stepped to her side and wrapped his arm around her, but she seemed completely unaware of him, her attention on her mother.

  Nate continued. “We think you’re having a stroke, Mrs. Bellini. But we’re taking care of you. The ambulance is on its way. Are you cold? Uncomfortable?”

  She nodded, her eyes frightened and desperate. It was surreal that just a few minutes ago she’d been brandishing a makeshift weapon at him.

  He ripped off his jacket and handed it over. Nate tried to lay it over Mrs. Bellini but she flinched away from it.

  Okay then. Clearly she wanted him gone.

  “I’ll tell the ambulance crew where to go,” he told Nate tightly.

  “Good man.”

  And so that was how he wound up outside the Olde Salt, holding the door for the paramedics, while Zoe dealt with the crisis without him. As she’d dealt with everything else the past fifteen years.

  Zoe spent the rest of the night at the hospital with her mother while the twins took care of business at the auction. The CT scan revealed that this wasn’t the first stroke her mother had experienced.

  The doctor who explained the situation was new to Lost Harbor. She introduced herself as Dr. Bethany Morrison. Her kind eyes and calm manner helped the news go down a little better. She put the brain scan against a lightbox and pointed out areas that all looked the same to Zoe.

  “She’s had a series of small strokes—you can see here and here—but she probably didn’t even notice them. This one is different. It caused a fair amount of damage to her right side. She’ll have some trouble talking, and she’ll need assistance to eat and walk.”

  “She already uses a walker. But she’s never had trouble talking before. Like ever, in her whole life. Talking is one of her favorite things to do.”

  “Then this will be a difficult adjustment for her. Does she live with you?”

  “She does.”

  “Try to keep stress to a minimum for a while. She’ll need lots of rest at first, then we’ll need to start on some physical therapy.”

  A feeling of despair wrapped around Zoe’s heart. Her mother was going to need more care than ever before. How was she going to take care of the pizza shop, the twins and her mother?

  If Theo came back—it still wasn’t definite—he would be a big help with the shop, but not with Mama. He was coming back for the business, not to be a caregiver. She couldn’t imagine her big, macho brother helping to feed Mama.

  As for Padric…that might be the worst part of all. She needed to stay very far away from him. She couldn’t risk giving her mother another shock like that.

  Her mother’s friend Layla had explained the whole thing. Apparently, Mama had begged Layla to take her to the auction so she could bid on the angora rabbits. She’d wanted it to be a surprise so she could gift the rabbits to the twins.

  Monica and Alexis would have loved that.

  She also wanted to bid on the dried seaweed for Zoe, because she thought it would add an extra little something to her clay figurine project.

  Instead, she’d walked into the Olde Salt and gotten slammed by the sight of Padric Jeffers kissing her oldest daughter.

  Zoe sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. “Whatever Mama needs, we’ll make it happen. When can I take her home?”

  “She’s asleep right now. Once she wakes up, we’ll do another assessment. Dr. Finnegan—he’s the neurologist—will weigh in on that. Here he is now.”

  Right on cue, another doctor walked in. An attractive one, about her age, and someone definitely flirt-worthy under normal circumstances. But apparently Padric had ruined her for any other man, because she was numb to his good looks.

  She zoned out as he talked about the long-term effects of stroke and what to expect next. It was all so overwhelming. Finally, she threw up a hand. “Can I just get back to my mother? I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

  “Of course. Come find me whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Doctor…” She blanked on his name.

  “Doctor Finnegan. Ian Finnegan.”

  “Can you get any more Irish?”

  She caught the glimmer of interest in his gaze and quickly took a step back. He might be cute, but he was no Padric, and anyway, she was going to be a nun from now on.

  She curled up on the armchair in her mother’s room and slept—badly—until she heard her mother stir. Leaping to her feet, she went to her mother’s bedside.

  The droop in her weathered face made her heart clench.

  “Hello, Mama,” she said softly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Aw…ful,” she managed.

  Zoe gave her a tender smile. “That’s certainly understandable. You had a stroke and you’re in the hospital. But the good news is that you’re going to be fine.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her mother’s eyes. “Not…fine.”

  “I know you don’t feel at all fine. But you’re alive. I was so terrified, I thought we’d lost you.” Feeling tears skim her own eyes, she lifted her mother’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “P…p…” She couldn’t quite manage to form the word she was looking for. Zoe tried to help.

  “Private? Pizza? Pizza party? Pour some water?”

  A ghost of a smile lifted the unaffected side of her face, but she shook her head.

  “Pa…”

  “Pet? Are you thinking of Athena? She’s fine, the twins will feed her.”

  A more impatient shake of her mom’s head told her she’d missed the mark. “Pad…”

  And then it clicked. “Are you trying to say Padric?”

  She nodded, pain flashing across her face.

  “You don’t have to worry about Padric.” Saying those words felt like ripping her own heart out and dumping it in the sharps container mounted on the wall. “I won’t be seeing him again. I’m sorry you saw that. If I’d known you were going to come to the auction… Anyway, I’m so sorry, Mama. I don’t want you to think about him again. That’s all done with. Now we have to focus on getting you better. There’s going to be physical therapy and all sorts of fun stuff, so why don’t you rest now, okay, carina?”

  None of her words seemed to reassure her mother, who struggled to say something else. Finally she fell back, exhausted, and her eyes fell shut. Zoe held on to her hand until it went limp. Then she sat in the armchair and let her own tears fall freely down her face like rain. And picked up her phone.

  First she texted the twins. Mama’s awake. She’s okay but she had a stroke. We’re in Room 152 at the hospital. Xoxo.

  Then she texted Padric. Text message had to be the worst way to end something, but she didn’t want to leave him hanging and she couldn’t handle a phone call right now.

  Sorry. She texted. I can’t. I know you understand.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Back home, there was more bad news. Or not exactly “bad” news, but “haha, so close and yet so far” news. An email had arrived with the news that she and her project, At Sea (Lost/Found), had been accepted into the Far North Arts Fellowship program. It started in one month, a week after the Last Chance switched to part-time winter hours. Perfect timing.

  And there was no possible way she could accept it.

  She’d deal with that later. First she had to make the house wheelchair accessible, since Dr. Irish had warned her that Mama would be chair-bound for at least a couple of weeks. She had to hire a carpenter to make a ramp for the front steps. She also had to order adaptive silverware and other items that would help Mama function.

  It all felt completely overwhelming, especially when all she wanted to do was cry.

>   Athena was curled up on her mom’s favorite recliner, purring in blissful ignorance. Would Mama still be able to pet her? Would the white fluffy ball of love bring her the same joy as before?

  Someone knocked at the door, and a chill swept through her. Just from the sound of the knock, she knew it was Padric.

  She shouldn’t even open the door. What good would it do? She’d just be torturing herself, and probably him, too.

  But she couldn’t resist.

  Sure enough, Padric stood outside the front door, arms folded across his chest, face tight.

  “Your sisters said your mother’s still at the hospital, so I figured it was safe to stop by.”

  The bite in his voice made her wince. She stepped outside and closed the door. Even allowing Padric inside felt wrong. “Let’s go over to my place.”

  She led the way to the barn and ushered him into her space. A quick glance showed her that she’d left it a big mess. She hadn’t been home much lately, since she’d been spending so much time with Padric. Mostly she’d been rushing in and out for showers and changes of clothing. A stray bra was draped over her sculpture of a mermaid. A pile of clean laundry that she’d left on a chair had toppled over. The remains of a burrito lay molding on her kitchenette counter.

  Padric didn’t seem to notice any of that. He took in the display of clay figurines, the shelves of art books and bins of art supplies. He noticed the ladder leading to her loft, and the shafts of morning sun coming through the octagonal window up there.

  “How’s your mom?” he finally asked.

  “She’ll be okay. There’s some permanent damage to her right side, but with enough therapy she should be able to manage. I have no idea how we’re going to afford it all, but at least there’s hope.” Her voice sounded hollow and exhausted. Pretty much how she felt.

  “I’m so—”

  She threw up a hand before he could finish. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. I handled this all wrong. I should have known Mama would find out you were here. I should have told her myself, instead of letting her be surprised.”

  “Did the doctor say that’s what—” She heard the same guilt in his voice that she felt in her heart.

  “No, she didn’t say that. Neither did the neurologist. But then again, I didn’t ask. They did say that she’s had other mini-strokes, which explains why she’s been struggling lately.”

  “But you think it’s our fault?” The blunt, direct question made her flinch.

  “I don’t know.”

  He gave her a somber look. “But just in case, you want to end things between us?”

  “Padric…” Why did he have to make this harder than it already was? “How can we have any kind of future when my mother has a stroke at the very sight of you?”

  “So you do think it’s our fault.”

  “Not ours. My fault.” She fisted her hands, wishing she could beat something up. “I let her be surprised. Don’t you know that’s how she found out about my dad and your mom? She spotted them kissing in the grocery store, then followed them to a motel.”

  Practically vibrating with tension, he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “That was them. They were cheating. We aren’t. We’re grown adults who happen to be single and consenting and we’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “But it hurts my mother, and she’s already been through so much. You didn’t see her after the affair, or after my dad died. Maybe I could have changed her mind if I had enough time, but now I’m afraid to even say your name. So there’s no point in you being here right now. I can’t do this. What chance was there anyway? You have a rock star life to get back to! Don’t put this all on me!”

  His voice lowered to a dangerous level. “We were working that out. Remember how you were going to take a break—”

  “Considering.”

  “Were you actually considering it?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Theo was going to take over the pizza shop, remember that? You’d be free to do what you want, to be with me, do your art.”

  Somehow the way he said that—“do your art”—came across as patronizing.

  “Does all this look portable?” She swept her hand around her studio space. “Your idea is that I’ll sit in some hotel room in Bucharest and ‘do art’ while you perform before five thousand screaming fans?”

  “More like ten thousand,” he muttered.

  “Oh, in that case, if it’s ten thousand, that changes everything.” Her Bellini battle skills were in full fiery form now. “Give me a call when it’s fifteen thousand and I’ll abandon my family and come running.”

  “I’m not asking you to abandon your family. I’m asking you to stand up for yourself.”

  “Then this is me, standing up for myself. Take a good look. I can’t be with you, Padric. Our lives will never work together. The sooner you see that, the easier it will be.”

  His expression shifted, as if a shutter was being closed, and she could no longer see inside.

  “Jesus, Zoe. Is that really what you want?”

  She held his gaze, letting her expression do the job her words couldn’t.

  “Then do yourself a favor and stop blaming other people or bad luck. You’re choosing this, Zoe. No one else. Not me.”

  But that was the thing. He had choices. So many choices. How could he possibly understand?

  Now that she’d made her point and gotten what she wanted, she couldn’t summon her voice anymore. She couldn’t order her mouth to open and say the word “goodbye.”

  She nodded, her mouth twisting against the urge to burst into tears right then and there.

  “I love you, Zoe,” he said softly. “No matter what, I want you to know that.”

  Frozen, she didn’t—couldn’t—react. Me too, she wanted to scream. I love you, too. I always will.

  But she didn’t.

  He turned away, his broad shoulders slumped, his head bent.

  Even though it shattered her heart to watch him go, she refused to tear her eyes away until he disappeared from sight. This might be the last time she ever saw him, and she wanted to store away every second of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At least one person was happy about this turn of events. His manager, Mikey, practically danced a jig when Padric called to tell him the news. “So I can take the tabloids off node-watch?”

  “No more nodes. Thanks for making this happen. I needed the break.”

  “I’m just glad that’s all it was. A break. I was starting to worry.”

  “You worried for nothing.” His voice sounded just as empty as his broken heart. “But I guess that’s your job.”

  “Yeppers. I worry so you don’t have to. Alrighty then, checking the calendar now.” Padric smiled at the way Mikey always narrated his actions. “When should we book your flight to Stockholm?”

  “I just need a day or so to wrap things up here. You book it, I’ll be on it.”

  “You just made me the happiest man in London.”

  And he was the most miserable man in Alaska, so that probably balanced out. He put the phone on speaker while Mikey rattled off his ideas for Padric’s big return to the tour. A media blitz to prove nothing was wrong with him despite the wild rumors. A Rolling Stone reporter wanted to follow him around for a week. Several morning shows were interested in live performances.

  Mikey didn’t mention the PJ parties. He probably didn’t want to put anything in the way of Padric going back on tour.

  But Padric didn’t want to ignore it. He couldn’t do that. “I need you to do something for me, Mikey. In regards to the PJ kids. I’ve been watching the kids here—a couple of teenage girls with real leadership talent. I want you to figure out which kid is the one people follow. Or maybe there’s more than one. I want to talk to those kids in person. Face to face. Can you make that happen?”

  “I can try. I’ll put my best social media expert on it. Good plan.”

  “Thanks.”

  Stopping
the PJ parties would be one good thing in the wreckage of his day. “Send me the flight information when you have it and I’ll see you in Stockholm.”

  “Glad to have you back.”

  After that call was over, Padric dialed the Misty Bay Regional Hospital. He asked to speak to the billing department and arranged to cover all of Mrs. Bellini’s treatments.

  Ethan stopped by as he was packing up his things. He handed his friend a check, which Ethan looked at, askance. “I defended you from an old lady with a walker. I really don’t think I’ve earned this.”

  “You came all the way to Alaska to help me out. You earned it.” He shoved the check into Ethan’s hand.

  “Not exactly a hardship. Nice town you got here.”

  “It’s not mine. But I’ll pass it along to the locals.”

  “Pass what along?” Nate sauntered through the door Ethan had left open. “I’m a local.”

  “I was just complimenting Lost Harbor.”

  “You’re taking off?” Nate stuck out his hand. “It was good to have you around. You’re welcome back anytime.”

  “Thanks. I may take you up on that.” They shook hands, which irked Padric to no end, since he doubted he’d be back anytime soon. Not while he could still cause harm to Mrs. Bellini’s precarious health.

  “Can you guys go bond somewhere else? I have to pack.”

  “Pack? You can’t leave yet.” Nate whipped out a notebook from his back pocket. “You have a prize to deliver.”

  Padric was already shaking his head. “I can’t. I need to hit the road. Actually, I need to hit the bay, get my rented boat back to Aurora Bay and catch a plane to Anchorage. I have a show in Stockholm.”

  “I’m sorry, but the Swedish blonds will have to wait. You committed to this serenade, and I’m holding you to it.”

  Nate’s level gray gaze made it clear he’d accept nothing less.

  “What about something of comparable value?”

  “What’s the value of a private song from an international star? How would you even calculate that? Fuck that, my friend. You can do this. Just squeeze it in before you go. Or come back in between Sweden and Finland or wherever.”