Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “Ah don’t mind at all, but ah don’t have any,” the driver said.

  “Don’t your passengers complain?” Wyn said, just to have something to say.

  “All the time, but they’re so happy to git where they’re going they forgit about it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the driver slowed at the massive stone pillars that marked the entrance to the Parker place.

  Wyn pulled off two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to the driver. “I need the exercise. You can turn around here and head back.”

  The moment the car’s taillights were tiny dots in the dark night, Wyn ran, his legs pumping furiously, down the rough brick road. Yellow light beckoned him from the back of-the house. He was breathless when he climbed the porch steps. Pearl, Sela, and Brie were seated at the kitchen table, coffee cups in front of them. The screen door creaked, the loudest sound he’d ever heard. Three pairs of eyes searched his face.

  As one they said, “What happened?”

  “There was an accident. Callie’s in the hospital. This was . . . I couldn’t leave until I knew . . . I took a cab.” He carefully avoided looking at Pearl and directed his voice at Sela and Brie. “We need to go back. My car was totaled. I think one of you should drive.”

  “I’ll drive,” Brie said quietly.

  “Get a clean hanky, Pearl.” Sela raised defiant eyes to Wyn. “Pearl never goes anywhere without a clean hanky.”

  “Yes—and wear your slippers, Pearl. No one is going to look at your feet. You wait here, I’ll get them for you. Tell me where the hankies are, and I’ll fetch one for you as well.” Brie was shocked, but efficient.

  “Is my baby all right, Mr. Wyn? How bad was the accident?”

  “Callie’s alive. The accident was real bad. Callie . . . Callie’s in a coma.” Once again he avoided Pearl’s eyes. He watched as Brie carefully fitted the soft felt slippers over Pearl’s large feet. How tender she was. She offered the hanky to the old nanny with the same tenderness. How loved this old woman was. Why didn’t he love her the way they did? Callie said it was because he was jealous of Pearl. Maybe he was.

  “What’s a coma, Mr. Wyn?” Pearl asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer. Her eyes rolled back in her head and Wyn had to strain to hear the words she muttered. “I never should have transplanted the parsley. I did it outside, back by the stable. I only did it in little pots because Miss Harriet down at the library wanted some fresh parsley. Now my chile is going to die because I transplanted it. It’s my fault.” To Brie she said urgently, “Find the mustard seed so I can sprinkle it around my baby’s bed.”

  “The hospital bed?” Wyn said stupidly. “They won’t let you do that. Hospitals are sterile. It was a car accident and I—Planting those damn herbs didn’t have—Oh, forget it,” he said when he saw the angry looks on Sela and Brie’s faces.

  “I have it, Pearl,” Brie said as she poured mustard seed from a small shaker bottle.

  “I didn’t hear no hoot owl last night, did you?” the old woman asked fretfully.

  Brie’s eyes met Sela’s over the back of the chair. The owls had screeched all night long, but Pearl’s hearing wasn’t what it had been, and she played gospel music until she fell asleep. Not for the world would either girl admit to hearing the owls, for to do so meant Callie would die. Someone always died when an owl hooted. It was just an old superstition, Brie told herself, but her eyes locked on the little bag of mustard seed clutched in Sela’s hand. “Don’t lose that,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t you worry,” Sela murmured.

  Wyn snorted in disgust. “Callie is unconscious, in a coma,” he said harshly. He had to stop this ridiculous nonsense.

  “A coma is a very deep sleep,” Sela said. “You should have called, Wyn. We’ve been sitting here for hours. I think we all knew something terrible happened. You should have called, or at the very least had someone else call.”

  “Easy for you to say. You weren’t there. I didn’t think about anything but Callie. If you’re ready we should be leaving.”

  “When will my baby wake up?” Pearl asked, her eyes full of fear.

  “I don’t know,” Wyn admitted.

  “Sometimes it takes a while,” Sela said.

  “Weeks,” Brie commented grimly as she searched for her keys.

  They were still in their party clothes, Wyn noticed, and he wondered why they hadn’t changed. He gave voice to his thought.

  “Because we were too damn worried to think about our clothes. I can’t believe you’d say something so crass,” Sela snarled.

  Sela helped Pearl into the backseat of the rental car before climbing into the front seat next to Brie. “The keys to Callie’s Beetle are in the car,” she told Wyn. “I’m sure you can manage. Obviously you are going to need some wheels. It’s over there, under the oak.”

  It wasn’t until he was out on the main road that it occurred to Wyn that he could have had Kallum drive him back to Beaufort. Now he was stuck with this rusty bucket of bolts. He cringed each time he shifted the gears. And yet Callie preferred this ancient vehicle over his Cadillac. Bode’s influence ? he wondered. The guy rarely drove a car, preferring to pedal a bicycle. Shit, why am I thinking about Bode Jessup now? Because, he answered himself, every time I think of Callie I think of Bode Jessup. How long would it take before Bode appeared on the scene? Hours? Days?

  Ahead of him, through the windshield, Wyn could see Pearl’s head with its coronet of braids. Either Brie was driving slow or else this Beetle had more power in it than he’d thought. Why Callie would prefer it over the Caddie was still a mystery to him. He’d told Kallum to make sure a bright red Honda was sitting in front of the house when they returned from their honeymoon. With a huge silver ribbon on top. Callie would have smiled and hugged him. It was supposed to have been wonderful, and now he’d ruined everything.,

  Bode.

  When Bode found out—and he would find out—that Wyn had lied to the police, lied about Callie, the woman he was going to marry, Bode would beat him within an inch of his life. Everyone in the whole damn world knew Bode Jessup loved Callie Parker, except Callie and Bode. Bode would never admit to anything.

  Wyn wished for sound then, anything to drive the thoughts from his head. He switched on the tinny-sounding radio and waited for some late-night DJ to play a song he could relate to, but all he heard was static. Callie said she sang to herself while she drove—now he knew why. He wished time would go faster. Wished Brie would drive faster so he could get to the hospital quicker. Kallum always said if you had one foot in today and one foot in tomorrow j then you pissed on today. Jesus, where did that thought come from? Never wish your life away.

  A sob caught in his throat. His eyes filled up and overflowed, and his shoulders started to shake just as Brie swerved onto the road that led to the hospital parking lot.

  The parking lot was almost empty, for it was after one-thirty in the morning. Most of the cars probably belonged to patients who were at the hospital on an emergency basis, Wyn decided.

  When he climbed from the car, in an instant he correctly interpreted the situation. It was them against him. He felt like crying again, but squared his shoulders and motioned the women to follow him. No one said a word as they trekked through the humid night air to the entrance of the hospital.

  Inside, it was a different story. Brie took charge, marching over to the receptionist and offering her badge for inspection. Wyn could hear her speaking in low tones, heard her ask for the police officer’s name. He saw her write it down in a tattered little notebook. His stomach rumbled. He felt his throat constrict, felt the overpowering urge to run. Fast. He had the crazy notion Brie would shoot him dead on the spot the moment she found out he’d lied about the accident. Well, let her. He damn well deserved to die for what he’d.done.

  Never mind waiting until it got light. He’d check on Callie, then drive down to the police station and confess. It was after the fact now, he knew, since Brie would ask to see the original police report
. She’d read the amended one, too. She’d call him a lying sack of shit, and he’d deserve it. But what was worse, she’d tell Bode Jessup.

  Brie walked over to where he was standing, slightly apart from Pearl and Sela. Brie’s dress swished angrily against her knees. She had nice legs, he noticed. Her face was unreadable. She had no jurisdiction in Summerville, he needed to remember that.

  “All we can do is speak with the night nurse in the Intensive Care Unit. Callie is listed as critical.” This last was said as she put her arm around Pearl. Instinctively, Wyn reached out when he saw Pearl’s eyes go from dark to white. He caught her, and helped her to one of the leather benches against the wall.

  A moment later, Sela was holding out a small paper cup with water. Her hand was trembling so badly she dribbled the water down the front of Pearl’s dress. “Oh shit, I can’t do anything right. I never could. I feel so helpless. This is like when my husband told me he was leaving. I couldn’t do anything then either to make it right.”

  “The Lord will make it right,” Pearl whispered.

  “Yeah, sure,” Wyn muttered. Praying wasn’t something he did on a regular basis. He didn’t do it on an irregular basis either. Kallum said he was an atheist even though he went to church. But he only went to church so he could say he went. He never prayed, never bowed his head, never sang the hymns. He did shake the minister’s hand on the way out of church though.

  “Maybe they’ll let us look at Callie through the ICU window. In California they let you do that. I’ve done it lots of times when a suspect or a victim was in ICU,” Brie said.

  “I’m not sure I want to.” Sela fretted.

  “Pearl?”

  “I’m not leaving here till I see my baby. They can’t make me leave, can they, Miz Brie? I forgot my string bag.”

  Brie swayed dizzily. Pearl never went anywhere without her oversize string bag—what Callie called her bag of miracles. She’d remembered the hanky though. Damn. The string bag was Pearl’s storehouse for all her charms. Once, when they were little, Pearl had let them look into the depths of her most secret possession. She glanced at Sela now and knew her friend was remembering the same things.

  Brie fondly recalled Pearl chewing, ever so vigorously, John-the-conqueror root. Lazarus’s sister had sent it from Natchez years and years ago, and it was replenished on a yearly basis. Pearl chewed it to bring her good luck.

  Also in the string bag was a buckeye, polished and shiny. Sometimes Pearl wore it around her neck, but only on special occasions. A penny with a hole in it, threaded with red ribbon and worn around the ankle to ward off stepping in devil’s dust, was worn on the way to church. A small sack of saltpeter and bluestone rested in the zippered compartment of a large purse. To bring health and happiness, Pearl said.

  It was the left hindfoot of a rabbit that Pearl wanted now, Brie knew. She’d put it around Callie’s neck—providing some nurse kindly allowed it. Or maybe it was the chunk of sandalwood she was after. She’d cut off a sliver with the rusty knife in the bag and slip it between Callie’s lips. If she died, Callie would go to heaven. “Oh God,” she whimpered.

  “Miz Brie, they can’t make me leave, can they?” Pearl pleaded.

  “I don’t think so. If you’re feeling better, we can take the elevator up now. The receptionist said there’s a small waiting area with some comfortable chairs and a television. I’m going to see Callie and then go to the police station. I’ll bring your bag to you.”

  “Are you going to stir up trouble?” demanded Sela when they arrived in ICU. “That’s just like you, Brie-stir up a mess and then walk away. It’s Wyn’s place to go to the police. Or Pearl’s place. Why can’t it wait till morning? We should all be here. I read somewhere that for twelve hours after a trauma of any kind, time is crucial. So go fetch Pearl’s string bag, but forget the police.”

  “I never read that,” Brie said calmly, “and I’m going to the police.”

  “That’s because the only thing you read are police manuals. When was the last time you read Cosmo?”

  “I never read Cosmo.”

  “I rest my case. You can learn a lot from Prevention magazine. I read it when I’m standing in line at the checkout counter in the grocery store.” Sela was talking nonsense in her distress. “I think you should stay here with us. Wyn can tell you everything that happened. He was there, for God’s sake!” she snapped.

  “Shhh,” the nurse behind the desk said reprovingly. “It’s very late. Please don’t make noise.”

  “Can we see Callie Parker? Through the window?” Sela asked. The nurse shook her head.

  “Please,” Pearl begged, her eyes filled with tears.

  “It can’t hurt anything,” Brie said, flashing her badge at the woman. “Miss Pearl has raised Callie since she was a baby. She’s like her mother. Surely you can’t deny her this.” The nurse relented, and they followed her in single file to stand before the window.

  “One minute only,” the nurse warned, backing up a step.

  Four pairs of hands went up against the window as though touching the glass would somehow make Callie open her eyes, let her know they were there.

  “Oh God,” Sela breathed.

  “My baby looks like she’s daid,” Pearl whimpered, reverting to the comfortable Southern patois of her childhood.

  “She’s not dead, Pearl. She’s just in a very deep sleep,” Brie whispered.

  Wyn struggled for words, but his tongue seemed to be three times its normal size, and the words wouldn’t come. He was the first to turn away. He wanted to run into the room, to shout he was sorry, to breathe his own life into her body. He wanted to scream at her to wake up. Instead, he walked away. He was standing by the elevator when the women joined him. Maybe he could hitch a ride with Brie instead of driving the Beetle, if she was going to the police station. He’d tell her the truth on the way. Maybe she would understand.

  The elevator swished open, and Kallum stepped into the hall. Wyn drew him aside. “Let’s go downstairs, I need to talk with you.” He heard Brie tell the others she would be back in an hour or so. It didn’t matter-Kallum could drive him to the police station or he could drive himself. Wyn could feel the old woman’s eyes on his back: his skin prickled. He moved quickly to the second elevator and pressed the DOWN button.

  “You look like you’ve been to hell and back,” Kallum said.

  “And you look your usual natty, debonair self,” Wyn snarled. “How the hell do you manage to look like a magazine ad at two in the morning?”

  “I work at it,” Kallum said curtly. “I don’t like talking in public places even at this hour. Let’s go out to my car and talk.”

  Both men watched as Brie’s rental car came to life. Neither said a word until they could no longer see the red glow of the taillights.

  “How is Callie?”

  Wyn shook his head.

  Kallum held the car door open. “Talk to me, Wyn, and don’t leave anything out. Take it from the time you walked out of the Judge’s back door. By the way, where’s Brie going?”

  “To the police station. She’s a cop, remember?”

  “For what purpose? Wouldn’t morning be soon enough? Maybe it’s instinctive. You know, her cop nose at work, or whatever . . . Don’t leave anything out, Wyn.”

  Kallum was cross. From long years of friendship, Wyn knew Kal didn’t like to intrude into his private life, hear about Wyn’s personal problems. His own tidy life was such that it made Wyn cringe, and on more than one occasion he’d said, in all seriousness, “Don’t you ever do anything that isn’t choreographed down to the last detail?” And Kallum’s reply was always the same. “If you don’t take the time to think things through, you make mistakes and run into trouble. If you do take that time, then you make a plan and stick to it, you have a handle on things. It’s when you go off at half-cock that problems occur.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t smoke in the car, Wyn,” was all he said now. “If you really need to smoke, let’s stand outside.�
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  “You’re a pain in the ass, Kallum,” Wyn mumbled as he dutifully climbed from the Jaguar. He held out his lighter when Kallum withdrew a filter-tipped cigarette from his jacket pocket. Both men inhaled and blew clouds of smoke in each other’s faces.

  “Callie’s in a coma,” Wyn began. “It doesn’t look good. She’s alive though. I thought she was dead. I honest to God thought she was dead. I couldn’t find a pulse. Jesus, I wanted to die right there with her. A mother and baby were killed. Outright. I was driving, Kal. I should have listened to Callie. She said I had had too much to drink, and she was right. I thought . . . didn’t feel drunk. When the police talked to me I . . . what I said was . . . Jesus, I still can’t believe it! I said Callie was driving because I had a snootful. The cop seemed to believe me. I thought Callie was dead, Kal. I couldn’t find her pulse. I . . . all I could think about was the mother, the baby, and Callie and me driving drunk. I know it wasn’t right, me saying she was driving, but I thought she was dead. If she was dead, it didn’t make a difference. If I’d told the truth, my life . . . My mind was going a hundred miles an hour. You registered the Caddie in Callie’s name. The insurance was in her name. It seemed . . . it seemed like the thing to do at the time. Now that I’ve had time to think about this I know how wrong it was. Hell, I knew it was wrong at the time too, but . . . I’m going to the police, Kal. I shall tell them the truth. At first I was going to go with Brie, but then decided to wait for you. I don’t want to live with this hanging over my head. I can’t let everyone think Callie was responsible for the Seagreaves’ death. My God, Kal, I killed a woman and a baby! Callie might die, too. I can’t live with that on my conscience.”

  “Callie told me she was going to drive,” Kallum said thoughtfully. “If I’m not mistaken, Mona and Jed were sitting on the back steps. I imagine they heard us. Did the boy parking the cars see you drive away?”

  “No, he had gone to fetch someone else’s car. I had parked in the Judge’s driveway, so I didn’t have to do any maneuvering to get out. Besides, the hedges cut off the view from the driveway. We walked through the open garage. What are you trying to say, Kal?”