Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “Listen, this is my last night,” she said. “Let’s go out somewhere for a bite to eat, my treat. How about Oscar’s?”

  “I’m not really hungry, Brie, but thanks,” Wyn muttered.

  Pearl just shook her head.

  “I insist,” Brie said. “I mean it, I insist. Look, there’s been no real change for the better. I was just speaking to the doctor, and he said Callie’s pneumonia is worse so you’re only going in five minutes on the hour. What good will either one of you be to Callie if you wear down? She needs you hale and hearty. Get your purse, Pearl. Get it together, Wyn,” Brie said not unkindly..

  They didn’t eat much and they barely spoke to one another. But they were away from the hospital, among people who smiled, laughed, and talked.

  “I’ll call every night, eight o’clock your. time, to the pay phone in the waiting room. I want one of you to promise me you’ll answer it.” Pearl and Wyn nodded.

  Brie paid the check. They went back to the hospital for one more visit before Brie drove Pearl back to the house. Tomorrow, before she left, she would take the last of Pearl’s personal belongings to the new apartment. Wyn had promised to pick Pearl up every morning on his way to the hospital. He would drop her off, too, if she was agreeable to the suggestion—which she wasn’t. Brie could only shake her head in dismay. She’d long ago given up any idea of changing Pearl’s mind about anything. All she could do now was hope for the best.

  At the hospital, she held out her hand to Wyn, who took it gratefully. “No hard feelings, Wyn.”

  “It’s not important, Brie,” he said wearily. “Pearl and I will do what we can from here. I expect a miracle. Pearl expects one too.” His voice said he didn’t believe his own words. “One of us will take your call every night. Good luck with the FBI. I think you’ll make a hell of an agent. I mean that, Brie. Will we be able to get in touch if . . . you know? Six weeks at the FBI Academy is a long time.”

  “Yeah, I think you will,” Brie said softly. “I’ll call you, I think that’s best.”

  The night nurse in ICU, a kindly older woman, gave Brie permission to visit Callie after Pearl did her five minutes.

  Tears blinded Brie’s eyes at the sight of her friend fighting so desperately for her life. Was fighting the right word? The machines were making all the effort. “Oh Callie,” she wept aloud. “I am so sorry this happened. I’ve been doing everything I can think of. Pearl is taken care of. Sela went back to New York. She calls every day. She’ll be moving back here as soon as she finishes her course. She’ll take care of Pearl until . . . until you’re well enough to do it. I’m leaving in the morning. I’m going to call every day. I know you can hear me, Callie, I know it. We didn’t call Bode because Pearl doesn’t want us to. We always listen to Pearl, you know that. He’ll never forgive us when he finds out. I dread the day. I think you love Bode. I think that’s what took you right down to the wire with Wyn. In the end you realized it and couldn’t go through with it. I have something to say though. Wyn has been here every waking moment. He’s doing everything he can think of. We’re not giving up on you, Callie. I guess what I’m trying to say is that time won’t stand still for any of us. The nurse is motioning to me that I have to leave. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. I’m gonna pray for you, too. That’s a hoot, isn’t it, me praying?” Brie choked back a sob. “They’re going to take care of you, Callie. Pearl won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll be here so fast if . . . if you need me. You can take that to the bank, Callie Parker.”

  “You shouldn’t be crying, Miz Brie. Tomorrow when you get on that airplane your eyes are going to look like pee holes in a snowbank. You come along and take old Pearl home.”

  The following day Brie found herself blubbering again. Pearl held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring soft words of comfort.

  “I don’t want to go, Pearl, but I have to. The FBI won’t wait for me or give me a second chance.”

  “There’s nothing for you to do, chile. There’s nothing for me to do either, but sit with my baby.”

  “Pearl, I want you to do something. I know right now you’re only permitted a few minutes each hour with Callie, but if she improves and I think she will, they’ll extend the visiting time. I read all those pamphlets the doctors gave me. I went down to the medical library and read as much as I could about Callie’s condition. One of the books said coma patients could hear. What that means, Pearl, is that I want you to talk to Callie all the time you’re with her. Don’t just hold her hand and cry. Talk to her. Go back from the beginning, when she was born, and talk about all your memories. Touch her, ask her questions. She isn’t going to answer, but ask anyway. Will you do it, Pearl?”

  “Of course I’ll do it, chile. If they told me to walk on my head because it would help my little girl, I’d do it.”

  “All right, Pearl, I have to go now. You take care of yourself, you hear me? Wyn will be here by ten to pick you up. I’m going to drop your things off at the apartment. I’ll call every chance I get. Oh, I’m going to miss you, Pearl.”

  “Shhhh, chile,” Pearl said as she tried to comfort Brie.

  “You love me, don’t you, Pearl? Not as much as Callie and Bode, but you care about me, don’t you?” Brie whimpered.

  “I love all my children the same, Miz Brie, and you should be knowing that.”

  Brie dabbed at her eyes and then blew her nose. “Pearl, did I ever thank you—I mean really thank you—for being so good to me when I was little, and even when we grew up? Did I ever say the words to you?”

  “You tried to, too many times, and I had to shush you up. When you be loving someone you don’t need to be getting thanks from that person. Now, you mind old Pearl and get on with you.”

  Brie burst into tears and ran to the car. She honked the horn and waved wildly as she careened down the old brick road.

  “Lord, this is Pearl. I’d be most happy if You’d look after that chile. She be hurting something fierce. And don’t You be forgetting about my baby. This is Pearl from Parker Manor asking for this special favor. I’ll be saying some extra prayers today.”

  Wyn was so weary, so mentally exhausted, he began to doze off to the hum of the floor-waxing machine. When he started to slide off the chair, he jerked upright to wakefulness and found himself staring into accusing jet eyes. Pearl. He gave himself a mental shake. How in the hell did the old woman do it? She spent twelve hours a day here at the hospital just the way he did, and she looked like she could spend another twenty-four and still do whatever she did when she went home. He knew the thought didn’t make sense; twenty-four hours was twenty-four hours and that didn’t leave even a minute, which all went to prove he wasn’t thinking clearly. He wasn’t eating properly, he wasn’t sleeping, and he was drinking and smoking too much. He’d dropped fourteen pounds in the four weeks Callie had been in the hospital. It all showed on his face. Even though he was freshly shaven, he looked gaunt and hollow-eyed. He needed a haircut and he needed to go to the dentist.

  He wanted to stare Pearl down, but he’d given up on that weeks ago. In his gut he knew she had put a hex on him, and today was the day he was going to ask her to remove it. It had to be a hex. Just sitting in the hospital couldn’t make him feel the way he’d been feeling. Maybe it was worse than a hex; maybe it was a curse. He started to tremble. That’s what the old hag wanted—for him to beg her so she would get some satisfaction. Jesus, he’d tried to be nice. He’d offered to drive her back and forth to the hospital, but she walked when the weather was decent. Other times she arrived in an ancient pickup that was loaded with peat moss and manure in the back end. He’d even brought her fresh fruit and a sandwich from the cafeteria, not to mention coffee. She never touched any of it.

  Wyn wished now, for the ten thousandth time, that he had confessed to driving the car the day of the accident. His nightmares, when he did sleep, were full of policemen, insurance agents, and insurance investigators. He had lied to all of them. Kallum hadn’t been able to buffer a
ny of them. He’d told the same story so many times he was beginning to believe it himself. A suit was being filed against Callie by the Seagreave family for a hundred million dollars. Who could blame the family? They’d lost a son, a daughter-in-law, their only grandchild, and a second grandchild who never got to be born. There wasn’t enough money in the world to pay for something like that.

  How many more days can I take this? he agonized. I have to pull myself together and get on with life.

  “You put a curse on me, didn’t you, old woman?” Wyn blurted out. “Don’t stare at me like that. Admit it. Take it off. I mean it, Pearl. Whatever you did . . . reverse it. Please,” he begged. Pearl stared at him for a long minute before she turned away. “What do you want me to do—beg?” he continued. “How long can this go on? Answer me, damn you!” His voice was out of control. Pearl ignored him, staring straight ahead, her big hands wrapped around her string bag. “Goddamm it, what do you want from me?”

  Pearl turned her head slowly. “The truth about my baby. That’s all I want, Mr. Wyn.”

  “I told you the truth,” Wyn blustered. His words sounded like the lie they were to his own ears. Obviously Pearl thought so too. “Are you going to take off the spell? Is it a curse?” There was fear in Wyn’s heart at what he was seeing in Pearl’s eyes.

  “I give you pain and sorrow like my baby is feelin’. Cain’t take it away. Only the Lord can take it away, but first you have to tell the truth. If you don’t, you will have pain and sorrow for the rest of your days.”

  Wyn believed her. Already his joints were aching, and in his life he’d never felt such sorrow. He was stuck with his lie. Pain and sorrow versus ten years on some chain gang was no contest. He wouldn’t do well with a pick and shovel with his feet manacled. He would buy aspirin by the barrel.

  Wyn’s eyes went to the clock. It was his turn to go into the room. Actually it was a tiny cubicle filled with so many machines he had to inch his way to the side of the bed. He felt annoyed the way he did every time he came into the room. How was it possible Callie hadn’t moved, twitched, blinked? Her nails seemed to be longer. He wondered why Pearl hadn’t filed them. Her hair was neat and tidy. It had been brushed. She looked like a tiny wax doll in the frilly nightgown that Pearl changed every day, sometimes twice. He wanted to look under the pillows to see if there were any of Pearl’s charms, but he was afraid to disturb them.

  He touched her hand, her cheek. It was warm, but then she had had a fever for weeks. So thin. This wasn’t the Callie he knew, the woman he had been going to marry. Who had been intending to jilt him. He was never going to believe that, not in a million years. Sorrow. Pain.

  He wanted to say something to Callie, something meaningful, something so profound she would open her eyes, and say, “Oh Wyn, everything is going to be just the way we planned.” Yeah, sure.

  The sound of the respirator, the coolness of the room, the still form on the bed made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. “I love you, Callie, I will always love you. I want you to know if I could get yesterday back, I would do anything. Anything.”

  Wyn looked around. So many machines, so many little red lights. Bile rose in his throat. He forced it back down by taking a deep breath then wished he hadn’t. The smell of the room was overpowering. Disinfectant, alcohol, and impending death. Death had its own smell. Someone had told him that once, but he couldn’t remember who it was. Why wasn’t he smelling powder or . . . laundry detergent? Pearl was always dousing Callie with something from that damn string bag of hers. He sniffed again, felt himself grow light-headed. He shook his head to clear it, his eyes glued to the blue bags being fed intravenously to Callie. God, what was all that stuff? Would her veins explode at some point? The awful purplish bruises on her arms bothered him. It must have something to do with the needles or the tubes or . . . or something.

  Then because he couldn’t see through his tears, he left, not knowing if his five minutes were up or not.

  Pearl was standing by the door when he pushed his way into the hall. He blinked and watched a moment through the glass. He saw Pearl’s lips move; she seemed to be talking ninety miles to the minute. What the hell was she saying? What could she say? Whatever it was, her words were having no effect on Callie. He was almost glad.

  Wyn walked over to the nurses’ station. “Has there been any change at all? Are the antibiotics working?”

  “Miss Parker’s fever dropped to a hundred degrees last night. The doctors are satisfied with the antibiotic treatment. I’m sorry the news isn’t better, Mr. Archer.”

  “Should Pearl be massaging Callie’s legs?” God, how hostile his voice sounded. Evidently the nurse thought so, too.

  “It can’t hurt. One of the doctors showed her how to do it. Sometimes treatment of the patient means treatment for those who wait—meaning Miss Pearl. It’s good for both of them. Surely you understand, Mr. Archer?”

  He muttered something he couldn’t remember later. “I’m leaving; I won’t be back anymore today. If there’s any change—any change, even if she blinks—promise me you’ll call?”

  “Of course, Mr. Archer.”

  It was another month before the hospital relaxed the rules in regard to Callie Parker. Visiting times were extended to an hour. An hour that Pearl spent talking to her baby. The morning hour was for Pearl and the evening hour was for Wyn. Pearl stayed until ten o’clock when the nurse relented and allowed her another ten minutes.

  Devotion such as Pearl’s deserved to be rewarded, the hospital administrator said kindly.

  It was a beautiful November day, just three days before Thanksgiving, when Pearl marched into the hospital, her string bag bulging. Today she was going to talk about Callie’s first Hallowe’en party under the oaks in the backyard.

  Today was a good day. Brie had called the night before just when she was crawling into bed. And this morning Sela had called.

  As she rode to the fourth floor in the elevator, Pearl thought about the pain she’d been having of late. She. wasn’t sure if she should pay attention to it or not. Maybe she just needed a good poop and some of that white, thick stuff that made her tongue white and tasted like chalk. Maybe she needed a little taste of Lazarus’s wine. Tonight before she got into bed she’d take a little sip.

  There was a chair in Callie’s cubicle now. An orderly had brought it a few weeks ago. She had been so grateful. She was even more grateful today when she lowered her heavy bulk into it. In the beginning she’d had to squeeze herself into the chair. Yesterday and today she had felt herself slide right into it. She was losing weight. Her friend Arquette had mentioned it earlier this morning during the ride to the hospital. She’d waved the words away as if they had no meaning. If she started to worry about herself, she wouldn’t have time to worry about Callie and Mr. Wyn, who now only came to the hospital every other day.

  She was pleased with Mr. Wyn’s thinness, pleased that his eyes seemed sunk in his head, pleased that he didn’t look so dapper anymore. Pleased that he was experiencing pain and sorrow like her baby love. If Callie opened her eyes this minute she would be like a chicken with wet feathers if she knew she’d given Mr. Wyn pain and sorrow. She’d sputter and mutter and tell her to give him happiness and laughter. “Well, I cain’t do that, even for my baby love,” Pearl said. “A spell is forever. I could, if I had a mind to, mix the pain and sorrow with happiness and laughter—if I want to. But I don’t want to. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, I’ll think about it. If I’m not too busy thinking about other things.”

  Pearl settled herself on the chair, took a deep breath, and relaxed. “You look real pretty today, Miz Callie. This morning we’re going to talk about your first Hallowe’en party. I know it’s way past Hallowe’en and it’s almost Thanksgiving. Just three more days. Arquette is bringing me a turkey. He got it hisself at the Turkey Shoot on Dorchester Road. He’s bringing me everything I need to make a dinner for my girls. Miz Brie is coming because she has some days off. She said she’s
finished with FBI school. Now ain’t that something, Miz Callie? Then this morning Miz Sela said she’s driving here tomorrow. She said she passed her test and got her license. We’re going to move back to the house. Mr. Wyn said we could stay in it as long as we want. Miz Sela promised we’d pay him some small rent. They fixed the leak in the kitchen and mowed the grass and trimmed the bushes. They’re real good to me, Miz Callie.

  “Nobody heard from Bode yet. Guess he’s really busy doing what he has to do to get ready to be a judge. I don’t rightly know how that works. Miz Brie said he’ll send us a card for Christmas. My boy always loved Christmas. He used to give us such fine presents. I’d like to buy him something special this year in return for those fine, fine dresses he got for me. That boy, he jest don’t know how to accept a present for hisself. I ’spect you will be outta that there bed by Christmas. I’m praying to the Lord for that. Lord have mercy, this room is chilly. I see they gave you another blanket. That’s good, they’re taking good care of you when Pearl isn’t here.

  “Today, your breathing seems much better, Miz Callie. I wish I knew if you can hear me. Miz Brie says you can. She told me never to stop talking to you. So I have to mind her and do as she says, ’lessen my voice gives out on me.

  “I said I was going to talk ‘bout your first Hallowe’en party. Remember how Bode said the costumes had to be a secret? Yours was so secret you wouldn’t even tell old Pearl. You dressed up like Bode, in his clothes. You shamed Bode that day, but he didn’t let you see his shame. He thought you was funnin’ him. He cried to me when I took him to bed. I had to tell him you didn’t mean it, you wanted to be jest like him. He believed old Pearl because he knowed I never lied to him.

  “Bode cut all the punkins and put the candles in them and made a big circle around that old oak. When you girls seen that old skeleton hanging from that tree you all liked to die. You all run screaming to Pearl. Bode hid in the bushes and made all those awful wailin’ sounds that scared you girls even more. He scared old Pearl, too.