Searching for Yesterday

by Valerie Sherrard

  Betts was silent. I could picture her face getting more and more sullen.

  “You’ve already been out with him, haven’t you?” I said.

  “Maybe once.”

  I knew it! I asked her when, even though I didn’t really need to. After all, I’d talked to her yesterday and there was no way she could have kept something like that quiet.

  “Last night. I ran into him in the afternoon, outside the post office like I said, and then we went out last night. Well, we didn’t really go out, exactly. We just hung out at the pool and then went to his place with some of his friends.”

  “Betts,” I said, trying hard not to sound angry, which I was, “you can’t do this. You’ve got to stop and think about the problems you’re going to get yourself into.”

  “What? My parents? I can handle them.”

  “You mean lie to them.”

  “Well, not so much “lie’ as just not tell them everything.”

  “You don’t think his age is going to come up — that neither of your folks will happen to ask how old Kruel is?”

  More silence. I was starting to feel scared — a cold, tight fear that was forming in my stomach. Betts doesn’t always think things through, but she usually listens to reason if you discuss something with her. It really worried me that she was being so stubborn after one date.

  “Okay,” I said. “Suppose you fool your parents ... and I don’t think you will, but, for the sake of argument, let’s say they buy whatever story you plan to give them. What about Kruel?” I somehow managed to say his “stage name” normally, though I still thought it sounded ridiculous.

  “What about him?”

  “He thinks you’re nineteen! Don’t you think he’s going to find it a bit strange, when school goes back in next week, that you’re a grade eleven student at Little River High?”

  “I’ll just tell him I failed a couple of times.” There’s no describing the horrible feeling I got when I heard my best friend say that she was willing to tell this guy that she’d failed school — twice — so that she could go out with him. The thought that she’d be willing to humiliate herself that way made me sick, but the worst part was the reason behind it.

  By the time we’d finished talking, I was so upset that my hand was shaking when I hung up the phone. The worst thing — the absolute worst thing — was that there was nothing I could do.

  I knew Betts was making a serious mistake and that it was going to lead to a lot of trouble, but I was powerless to do anything to stop her. If you’ve ever watched a friend walking right straight into disaster, and there wasn’t a thing you could do to prevent it, then you know exactly how I felt.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  My head was still on Betts and Edgar/Kruel when Annie arrived. She was carrying an old briefcase in one hand and a paper bag in the other. I let her in and she sat the briefcase on the floor and the bag on the table.

  “I thought, since it was lunch time and all, that I’d bring dessert. Pearl made these this morning — molasses cookies from an old family recipe.”

  I leaned over and sniffed them. “Mmm! They smell really good.”

  “They are. Pearl said that, for a graduation present, she’s going to give me all the secret family recipes as part of my present. Of course, that will only be if I’m still there.”

  My stomach knotted at how casually she added the comment about still being there. The idea of not being sure where you’d be or who you’d be living with in six months or a year or two years was something I just couldn’t get my mind around. It was strange and horrible to think of being sent away from a place you’d called home.

  Telling myself that Lucas and Pearl Norton were nice people who wouldn’t do that didn’t get rid of the feeling. From what Annie had told me of her past, it seemed that things could be going fine one day and change suddenly.

  “Shelby?”

  I realized that, while my thoughts had drifted off, Annie had been speaking to me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t hear a word you said.”

  “Yeah, I kinda figured that the third time you didn’t answer me.” Annie smiled to show she wasn’t annoyed. “Anyway, all I said was that I brought some stuff for us to look over, like you suggested.”

  “Okay, that’s great,” I said. The truth was, that was the only idea I’d been able to come up with that day. We’d talked to Lenny, to Gina’s former employer, and to her best friend. There didn’t seem much else to do. But maybe, if we looked through the few things we had to go on, and just talked about it, something else would occur to one of us.

  I knew one thing: if something didn’t break pretty soon, I was going to have to admit to myself and Annie that we likely weren’t going to find her mother at all. Or figure out who her father was.

  “Should we have lunch first, or do you want to start and then take a break later?” I asked.

  “Let’s eat now,” she said. “I can hardly think on a full stomach, much less on an empty one.”

  We agreed on tomato soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches and Annie pitched in to help get things ready. It was on the table in less than ten minutes. While we ate, Annie told me about a dream she’d had where she found her mother and they had a tearful reunion.

  “But I know that’s just my subconscious making things work out the way I’d like them to,” she said, her voice wistful. “I know reality isn’t likely to be that way.”

  “Because we might not be able to find her?” I asked.

  “Well, that, but also because if we do find her, it might not be the happy ending I’d like. After all, if she wanted me with her, she’d have shown up or contacted me long ago. I have to be prepared for a different reaction from her than I’d like, supposing we figure out where she is.”

  I was glad to hear her say that. I’d been worried that she might have unrealistic expectations of what would happen if we found her mother.

  “And you know, Annie,” I said, “even though your mom wasn’t into drugs before ...”

  “Oh, I’ve thought about that,” she said. “I know it’s possible we’ll find her on the street somewhere with her arm jabbed full of track marks and her skin a mess of sores. It just doesn’t seem like my mother, though.”

  I didn’t want to say that, as far as I was concerned, that seemed the most likely scenario. A woman doesn’t go from loving her kid and being a pretty decent mother, to leaving and never coming back. Not without a reason.

  “Maybe she missed you so much that she got into something to help her get through that rough time, and she got hooked,” I said, hoping that putting it that way might soften the thought.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Or, wherever she went after she broke up with Lenny, she could have been taken in by some smooth-talking guy who got her involved in drugs and ... things.”

  “Prostitution, you mean.”

  “Well, I ...”

  “Say what you mean, Shelby. I’m not four years old and I’ve already faced some pretty harsh things in my life. You don’t have to tiptoe around anything for me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I was going to say I didn’t want her to think I had a bad opinion of her mother, but I hadn’t honestly worked out what I thought and felt about Gina Berkley, so I left it at that.

  Annie nodded. Her eyes dropped away from me before she spoke again. “I really think I’m ready for anything, Shelby. I’ve had a long time to get used to not having a mother around. If I find her, and she doesn’t want me, or she’s in some kind of mess that means I can’t be with her, my life isn’t going to change a whole lot anyway, is it?”

  I didn’t answer and she didn’t seem to expect me to. After a pause, she added, “I just want to know. I feel like if I could just find some answers I could deal with it and move on. It’s always wondering and never knowing that makes it so hard for me. Whatever the truth is, I need to find it. So, don’t worry about me.”

  “Okay,” I said. I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know what. It
was surprising me to find out that Annie was a lot stronger than I’d thought. She’s so quiet at school that I’d always assumed she was kind of timid, but what she’d just said was about the bravest thing I’d ever heard.

  Being ready to face the truth even if it was hard, even if it was horrible, that took a kind of courage I’d never run into before.

  We’d finished our lunch by then, and Annie wiped the table so we could spread out the things she’d brought.

  I’d seen some of them before. There was the note her mother had left behind, the locket with Annie’s picture in it, and the jewellery box. Added to those were a few things that were new to me. One was an old black and white picture of a little girl who Annie explained was her grandmother as a child.

  Another was a small cloth bag that held a beautiful, smooth, black stone shaped like a teardrop. Annie told me that her grandfather, who had died before she was born, had found that stone years before and had given it to her mother.

  The last item in her case was a wooden dragonfly that had clearly been carved by hand. The initials carved underneath were J.B., which she told me stood for James Berkley.

  “My grandfather carved this,” she said. “Or, I should say, he whittled it. At least that’s what my nanny always said.”

  “It’s really good,” I said, turning it around and looking it over.

  “Nanny said he was always whittling, but that he gave most of the stuff away. If someone admired something, he’d insist they take it. So there were only a few pieces left when he died and this one was my mother’s favourite. She kept it in a special little cabinet with glass doors.”

  I sat the dragonfly down carefully, afraid that I’d drop it and something would break off. A feeling of sadness swept over me as I looked at the few items that were spread over the table. This, it seemed, was most of what connected Annie to her family history — a little collection consisting of a few bits of jewellery, a photograph, a stone, and a wood carving.

  I added my notebook to the other items. Keeping a written record anytime I’ve been investigating something has been a must for me, but the notes I’d made this time didn’t seem to be of much use.

  Even so, I read every word out loud, pausing after each line or two in case something popped out as being significant.

  Then I wrote a quick summary — sort of a timeline of what happened. It was pretty bare bones, too. After looking it all over, a question occurred to me.

  “Kayla didn’t mention why your mom stopped working at the craft store and went to work at the bakery, did she?”

  “I don’t think she said anything specific. Not that I remember, anyway. I got the impression it was because of the conflict between them — my mom and Kayla I mean — when my mom started going out with Lenny.”

  “Mmm. I bet you’re right. But we should check, just to be sure.”

  “You want to go there, or just call and ask her?”

  “I like to talk to people face-to-face whenever possible,” I answered. “That way, you’ve got their expressions and body language and everything to go with what they’re saying. They don’t always match. Not that I think Kayla is going to lie to us.”

  “Me neither. But it’s a good idea, anyway.” Annie toyed idly with the stone, rubbing it between her fingers and thumb and turning it over and around, all without looking at it. She glanced up suddenly.

  “Hey! Isn’t there a list of things you can look for to see if someone is lying? You know, like signals that tell you what they’re saying right at that moment is probably not true?”

  “I think so. Signs that someone is being deceitful or something like that.”

  “We should find out what they are! Then we’ll be able to figure out if anyone lies to us.”

  “That would have been a great idea — before we talked to everyone!” I said. “Like my dad says, it’s like closing the barn door after the horse has escaped, or something like that. My dad says some pretty strange things.”

  Annie laughed. “I like your parents. They’re nice, and they don’t overcompensate with me like a lot of adults do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Most adults kind of act, I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but it’s a bit too normal, if you know what I mean. As if they’re trying to impress on me that they aren’t going to treat me differently because I’m a foster kid. They always come across as a bit forced or too cheerful.... It’s hard to explain, but believe me, it’s there.”

  “So, you’re already kind of tuned in to reading people,” I said. “What were your impressions of everyone we talked to, just off the top of your head?”

  “I felt like Bea and Kayla were truthful,” Annie said. “Lenny, I’m not so sure. But then, it’s hard for me to tell with him, because I figure he’s embarrassed about taking off with my mom and leaving me behind that way.”

  “I agree,” I said. Her feelings on all three matched mine. “Lenny could easily be lying about something — to make himself look better, so you don’t blame him.”

  “Like I wouldn’t blame him anyway,” Annie scoffed. “My mother would never have left me if she wasn’t with him. There are a lot of things I’m not sure about, but I know that for a fact.”

  “And everything we’ve heard from other people agrees with that,” I added. I thought about Bea and Kayla, and the angry, hostile looks they’d both had in their eyes when they’d been talking about Lenny. It didn’t seem that anyone who was friends with Gina had liked him.

  I wondered if that could have been part of the reason he’d wanted to get Gina out of town.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Hey, that insurance guy is waving to us,” Annie said as we neared the flower shop.

  I followed Annie’s gaze through the window to see Chris Inkpen smiling in our direction. “What a nice guy,” I said, waving back. “I bet he has a lot of friends.” I couldn’t help wishing the same had been true of Gina Berkley. It would have made our search so much easier if there’d been more than a couple of people to talk to.

  There was no sign of Kayla when we went into the flower shop. The other girl who’d been there the first time we went was busy making arrangements in the back room, but she came into the front when we got to the counter.

  “Hey!” she said. “Kayla just went to do the banking. She should be back any time, if you want to wait for her.”

  “Okay,” Annie and I said together.

  “Oh, I guess we weren’t actually introduced before,” she added. “I’m Kayla’s cousin, Madison Nastasiuk.”

  We told her our names and we all said “nice to meet you” and nodded. Annie asked her how long she’d been working at the flower shop, and when Madison said it had been right from the time it opened, Annie asked if she’d also worked at the craft store.

  “I filled in once in a while,” Madison said. “They’d call me in if someone got sick or something. But mostly I was working at the dry cleaners back then. I hated that job, but the guy I was going out with ran the place, and I liked being around him.”

  She paused and made a face. “Of course, things changed when he fired me.”

  “Your boyfriend fired you?” Annie said.

  “Yup. Not the most romantic thing a boyfriend can do to you, I must say.”

  “Be careful!” Kayla had apparently come back in through a rear entrance. She came around the corner as she spoke. “Madison loves to tell that story — especially if she can get someone to say mean things about Kenny.”

  “Who’s Kenny?” I asked.

  “Her husband.”

  “But ... what does he have to do with the guy who fired her?”

  “He is the guy who fired her.”

  Our mouths must have been hanging open at that. Madison laughed. “He fired me right after he proposed to me,” she said.

  “He wouldn’t have fired her,” Kayla commented, “if she hadn’t burnt so many shirts and things. It was either let her go or see his business go bankrupt.”

 
“I wasn’t very good at that job,” Madison admitted.

  “And you guys got married!” I said.

  “We sure did,” Madison agreed, a smile spreading across her face. “And I don’t even have to do the ironing at our place.”

  “I wonder why,” Kayla said. She rolled her eyes and then turned them to us. “So, what’s up?”

  “I had another question,” Annie told her.

  “Okay. But I can’t really leave right now. It’s time for Madison’s break, and she meets her ex-employer for coffee every day. We can talk here, though. It shouldn’t be too busy.”

  Madison was already in her jacket and on her way out the door. She smiled at us as the bell tinkled overhead, and then she was outside and hurrying along the sidewalk.

  Kayla nodded toward the back room, indicating that we should follow her. “I’ve got some orders to fill that have to go to the hospital when Brandon gets here. That only gives me about half an hour, so I’m afraid I’ll have to do that first. Then we can talk.”

  “Can we do anything to help?” I asked. Ever since our unfortunate first meeting I’d been trying to show Kayla that I wasn’t really a mouthy brat. I couldn’t tell if her opinion of me had changed, because she mostly talked to Annie. She wasn’t rude to me, but she didn’t go out of her way to be friendly, either.

  “Uh,” she glanced around, “you can bring me stems from those four buckets — the ones on the left. A couple dozen from each should do it.”

  I did as she asked, being careful not to break the stems as I drew them out of the water. Kayla worked quickly, building the arrangements with the ease of practice. They were gorgeous when she was finished.

  Annie had been put to work cutting various widths and colours of ribbon and I watched amazed as Kayla turned them into elaborate-looking bows in only seconds.

  “Wow!” I said. “How do you do that — so fast?”

  “It’s easier than it looks,” she said, giving me a smile for the first time. “Most things are, once you get onto them.”