Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “Do you remember how you dunked for apples and Miz Sela got the most? Bode had this dish with peeled grapes in it and he said y‘all had to wear a blindfold and touch what was in the dish. He told you it was vampire brains. Such squealing and yelling I never heard. You ate those little cakes Miz Brie made and Miz Sela decorated, that looked like little punkins. Bode made ice cream, turning that old crank till his arm ’most fell out of his socket. You set the table so pretty, Miz Callie, you made the colored napkins from crepe paper and used your allowance to buy orange paper plates. You made paper leaves and put them in that old milk jug. It was the prettiest party table I ever seen. That was the night Miz Brie and Miz Sela’s mamas forgot to pick them up. You asked me how they could forget their daughters. You wanted to know if their mamas loved them. After that Hallowe’en, their mamas forgot to pick them up too many times. Old Pearl didn’t care. I loved having all you children in my kitchen. It gave me great pleasure to tuck you all into bed at night and old Pearl was always real proud when Bode told you all a story that made you hide in the covers.

  “I be missing that boy so much these days. I hope Miz Brie is right when she says he’s going to be sending mail at Christmas. Maybe presents, too. Bode never forgets us.

  “It’s time for me to take off those godawful shoes the doctor said you needed. I’m rubbing your feet and legs for a bit. We need your blood to keep moving up your legs, leastaway that’s what that woman sitting behind the desk said. She said I do it real good. It would be real nice for Pearl if you’d wiggle your toes for me. I brought clean socks for you, Miz Callie. Powder too. My special powder. Arquette fetched it for me this morning. He promised to bring me a frizzly chicken, maybe two. Soon as I get my frizzly chicken I’ll be bringing one of his feathers to rub under your nose. This abomination will end: Arquette said so. I say so, too,” Pearl declared, as her fingers worked on Callie’s thin feet and legs. “Them frizzlies will scratch up any tobies or conjures. We all will be safe. From Mr. Wyn,” she said under her breath.

  “Miz Sela asked me if I’d fix some hoppin’ John and ’pone for Thanksgiving. I said I’d make it for my girls. We’re going to be cooking all day and give thanks to the Lord that you didn’t go to the place God takes us to. It jest ain’t your time, chile. I seen the signs.

  “Now, Miz Callie, don’t your feet be feeling better?” Pearl’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “I sprinkled the powder inside your socks, Miz Callie. It’s a mite smelly, but I ’spect no one will notice, and if they do they’ll think it’s the red onion they’re smelling what hangs behind your bed.

  “I’m plumb wore out today, Miz Callie. My spirits need to riz up a bit . . . ’Spect they will when my girls git here.”

  Pearl was back in her chair, Callie’s hand in her own. “It ain’t right, you lying here like this. It breaks my heart to see you, chile. I want to be doing more, something to make you get up in that bed. If I knowed what to do, I’d do it faster than it takes this old heart to beat. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be telling you about Mr. Wyn and what he said to me. Maybe the next day. Pearl ain’t sure if she should talk about it.”

  Pearl felt a slight stirring of the air around her. Her eyes grew big and then rolled back in her head. A spirit. Callie’s mama’s spirit checking on her child. Maybe her daddy’s spirit. “Doncha be worrying none; Pearl is doing what she can for Miz Callie,” she whispered.

  “They’re restless, Miz Callie. They’re worried about you. You need to be giving us some sign. They want something, but I don’t know what it is. I ’spect they be worried a butterfly will fly hisself in this room. Cain’t happen, Miz Callie. They don’t keep the windows open.” The air stirred again. Pearl smelled the onion behind the bed. She heaved herself upright, reached behind the bed for the red onion, and stuffed it in the string bag. It was wilted. Tomorrow she would replace it.

  Pearl’s inner clock made her look toward the ICU window where the nurse was motioning to her and then pointing at the clock. She nodded to show she understood. She heaved herself to her feet. “Miz Callie, I love you more than anything in this whole world except Bode. Come back to us so we can see that beautiful smile. I want to feel you hug me. I want to see you happy. Don’t go away from me, chile. I need to be leaving now, Miz Callie.”

  Pearl bent over and kissed Callie on the cheek. Her rough worn hand smoothed the hair back from Callie’s forehead. “I love you, chile,” she said again, tears dropping on Callie’s thin cotton gown.

  Pearl trundled from the room, the string bag clutched in her hands. To the nurse, she said, “I won’t be coming back today, ma’ am.”

  “Is there anything wrong, Pearl? Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, ma’am.” She didn’t want to tell this woman with the kind face that she needed to go, home to see what she could do about making herself feel better. She wanted to feel good when Miz Brie and Miz Sela arrived.

  “Do you want me to call a taxi for you, Pearl?”

  “I’d be obliged, ma’am, if you’d do that for me.”

  The charge nurse’s eyebrows shot upward. This was the first time in months that Pearl had taken her up on the offer to call a cab. It was also the first time she’d left at this time of day. Maybe later she’d speak to Dr. Quinto about giving Pearl a checkup—providing Pearl permitted it. If nothing else, she could at least suggest vitamins, probably something the old woman had never heard of.

  “Pearl, wait a minute,” she called out. “I’m going to give you a bottle of vitamins. I have a feeling you’re under the weather. They are good for you. Will you take them?”

  “Will they make me feel good?” Pearl asked anxiously. “How much are they?”

  “They don’t cost anything,” the nurse lied. “We’d give them to Callie, but she can’t swallow. No sense letting them go to waste. You take two every day for the first week and then one every day after that. There’s a hundred in the bottle. When they run out, tell me and I’ll give you another bottle. You have to eat first. There’s a lot of iron in them, and if you take them on an empty stomach you’ll get a bellyache.”

  “Yes’m. Pearl thanks you.” She wondered if the vitamins would help her poop.

  “In the beginning, when you first start to take them they might make you go to the bathroom. Once your system gets regulated it will be fine. I’ll call the cab now. He’ll pull right up to the front door. If there’s any change, I’ll call you, Pearl.”

  “Thank you,” Pearl said, stuffing the huge bottle into her string bag.

  In the coffee shop Pearl bought a bag of licorice. Everyone knew licorice made you poop. Just in case the vitamins didn’t work. She chomped and chewed her way through the whole bag on the ride back to her apartment. She paid the driver and gave him a twenty-five-cent tip.

  In her apartment she ate two cheese sandwiches and two of the vitamins. Then she lay down and took a nap, something she’d never done in the whole of her life. She slept until eleven o’clock that night and only woke when she heard someone knock on the door.

  “Miz Sela, Pearl is so happy to see-you,” she said, wrapping the young woman in her arms.

  “Pearl, you’ve lost weight! Is anything wrong? You aren’t eating, are you? You spend all your time at the hospital. I bet you aren’t sleeping right either. Well, we’re going to change that, starting right now. What should we do first?”

  “Leave.”

  “For where?”

  “You said we would go back to the manor house.”

  “Well, sure. We can do that tomorrow. We have to pack up your things first.”

  “I want to go now. Can we go now, Miz Sela?”

  “If that’s what you want, Pearl. Sure, get your bag. We can come back here tomorrow and pick up your things. Brie is coming in on the red-eye. She’ll get here when the roosters are crowing.”

  “Arquette is bringing me a frizzly chicken, maybe two.”

  “Wow! That’s great, Pearl.” Sela racked her brains trying to remember what it was a frizz
ly chicken was good for. The only thing she could remember with any clarity was the toadstool business and being called the devil’s snuffbox. If she remembered correctly, imps were supposed to come out at night and break off the heads of the toadstools and scatter them about. Then the snuff was made into powder, the main ingredient of a conjer-bag. What it was used for, she couldn’t recall. Maybe Brie would remember.

  “Pearl, do you think Arquette and some of his friends can fix up one of the rooms at the manor house for me? I have a little extra money for repairs.”

  “Yes’m. We can stop on the way home.”

  “You hate this place, don’t you, Pearl? Are you sorry we moved you here?”

  “Yes’m, Miz Sela. I need to be sleeping in my own bed and cooking on my own stove.”

  “I’m sorry, Pearl. We thought this would make it easier for you. I guess we made a mistake. We meant well, Pearl.”

  “I know that, Miz Sela. Can we go now?”

  “Right this minute. I’m glad I didn’t carry up my bags,” Sela laughed.

  At one o‘clock in the morning, Pearl was busy washing down the kitchen while Sela made up a bed for herself and Brie. At two o’clock they were cleaning both bathrooms.

  “This is silly business,” Pearl grumbled. “You can sleep in Miz Callie’s room.”

  “No, no, Pearl, I can’t do that. That’s Callie’s room, and when she comes home I want her to walk into it and find it just the way she left it. I wish there was some change, some little thing that would give us hope. I was so hoping you’d have something good to tell me. What is Wyn saying?”

  “He wants me to take my spell off him. I might and I might not.”

  “Uh-huh?” was all Sela said.

  “Mr. Wyn don’t go to the hospital every day no more. I heard him tell the nurse it hurts him too much. He just stares at Miz Callie, just stands there and stares at her. Sometimes I see tears puddling in his eyes. Sometimes I don’t see nothing but . . .”

  Sela looked up from stuffing an extra pillow into its cover. “What do you see?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I think you’re fibbing to me, Pearl,” Sela said gently. “You know what? I’m starving. I say let’s go in the kitchen, and I’ll make us some eggs and bacon. I’m glad you had the good sense to stop at that all-night market on the way here. Brie will come in here chewing on the doorknob. I’ll make us some fresh coffee and we’ll sit and talk like old times. You can tell me every little thing about what’s been going on since I left.”

  The dishes were still on the table when Brie climbed from the taxi at six-thirty in the morning. She hugged Pearl, noticed her weight loss, but said nothing. She stared at Sela, ever- fashionable. “For some reason I expected to see a tattoo on your arm or something.” She giggled. “Tell me, how’s Callie? Has anyone heard from Bode? I haven’t. And how’s Wyn?”

  They told her while Sela made fresh coffee.

  “I’ll have bacon and eggs, three eggs and six slices of bacon. Four slices of toast. It was a good thing you called the airport and left a message for me that you were here. I’d be sitting by the door of the apartment all day waiting for you.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a smart FBI agent to me,” Sela said, laying bacon in the frying pan.

  “I’m going to be based in Atlanta,” Brie told them. “That’s only a few hours from here. I can drive up on weekends.”

  “Really,” was all Sela said.

  “That’s good, Miz Brie,” Pearl said.

  “You here for good, Sela?”

  “Yes. I feel better already. There’s something so right about coming back home. I don’t mean this is home, I mean coming back to South Carolina. It feels soooo right. I sent out query letters to six commercial real-estate firms and got back two very positive responses. I called Wyn one evening to ask about Callie. You know, his point of view, and he said he’d be glad to give me a glowing reference. I don’t have a doubt in my mind that I’ll get a job. What I worry about is selling property. I might even go speak with the Judge. Yep, I’m here to stay.”

  “Where are you sleeping, Sela?”

  “In that room across the hall from Callie’s room. Arquette is coming today, and he is going to fix it as best he can. I have a little extra money and I thought this would be putting it to good use. What do you think, Brie? Maybe we could fix up that little room off the bathroom for you when you come on weekends. If I have any money left, I’d be more than glad to ask Arquette to do it.”

  “Sounds good, but I can pay for myself as long as Pearl doesn’t mind.”

  “Makes me no never mind, girls. This ain’t Miz Callie’s house no more. You be fixin’ Mr. Wyn’s house for him.”

  “That’s not the way I see it,” Brie mumbled. “This is Callie’s house.” She directed her question to Sela. “You said you talked to Wyn. Did he say anything about giving this back to Callie?”

  “Not a word. I didn’t ask either. He’s an honorable man, Brie. Everyone in town knows about the trust deed. He won’t keep it.”

  “How can he deed it back to someone who’s in a coma?” Brie bristled. “I’m telling both of you, there’s something funny about that accident. I’m going to figure it out, too; you wait and see if I don’t. Pearl agrees with me.”

  “Do you, Pearl?” Sela asked carefully.

  “Yes’m,” Pearl said quietly.

  “I guess that means I’m the only stupid one here then. The police were satisfied. Obviously the insurance companies are satisfied. Wyn did say they paid up on the car. I know the Seagreave family is suing, and that’s going to take years. The insurance company is representing Callie. To me that means everyone is satisfied. Why do you keep saying things like this, Brie?” Sela asked irritably.

  “Call it my cop instinct. Call it whatever you want. I’m just not satisfied—that’s the bottom line. Don’t fret about it, Sela. I’ll figure it out, then you can apologize. I don’t understand why your mind is so closed on this.”

  “It’s not closed. Everyone can’t be wrong. I’ll tell you what, if you can prove Wyn was at fault, I’ll dance a jig, in the buff, at Five Points. Howzat?”

  “You’re on, Miss Sela Carron. You heard her, Pearl? Buck naked. Sunday at high noon when everyone is coming home from church. I’ll shoot bullets at your feet to see how high you can jump. Now, that I’d love to see.”

  In spite of herself, Sela laughed. “Listen, if you can prove it, that makes Mr. Archer lower than a snake’s belly. God, Brie, how could something like that ever be made right?”

  “I can tell you one thing, the press would try it in the papers. Callie got a lot of bad press for a few months. But there’s no point in speculating now. Time enough for that later. These eggs are really good, Sela, and the bacon is just right. I thought you were a lousy cook?”

  “I am. This is about the only thing I make that actually tastes like what it is. I’m going to learn though. Pearl doesn’t have time to do much cooking anymore. Oh look, here comes Arquette. Brie, you’ll do the dishes, okay?” To Pearl, she said, “Is it okay if I take a nap in Callie’s room? I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”

  “You can sleep on my bed, Miz Sela. I’ll be going back to the hospital with Miz Brie.”

  “I’ll be out later. I drove for fourteen hours yesterday and then stayed up all night helping Pearl,” Sela said importantly.

  “I see no one cares if I slept or not.”

  “You always sleep on the red-eye,” Sela said, following Arquette to the room he was going to work in.

  “Does that mean I have to unpack your car? Up yours, Sela. Do it yourself.”

  “Maybe Arquette will let you use his truck. I’m too pooped.”

  “Get that skinny ass of yours out here, Sela. I’ll help you, but I’m not doing it all, and Pearl isn’t doing anything. How do you wipe your ass with those fingernails?” Brie said sourly.

  “Ha, ha. Very carefully, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I thought you sai
d you didn’t have anything. What do you call all this?” Brie demanded after her ninth trip.

  “Stuff. You’re ungrateful. I’m letting you use my car and all you do is bitch and complain.”

  “I was born that way, just the way you were born a bitch,” Brie snarled. “And for your information, I did not sleep on the red-eye last night.”

  “Don’t blame me for that. That’s the last of it. Now you can do the dishes. I’m just going to sleep for a few hours. Wait a damn minute! If you take my car, how am I going to get there?”

  “Do what you told us to do—drive Arquette’s truck.”

  “He’s got two frizzly chickens in the back.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m not kidding.”

  “Guess you’ll have to take them out, won’t you?”

  “Shut up, Brie, just shut up,” Sela said, flouncing off.

  What the hell is frizzly chicken? Brie wondered as she stripped down to take a shower.

  He looked awful, was Brie’s first thought. No, he looked as if he was dead and didn’t have enough sense to lie down. “Wyn, it’s nice to see you again,” she said in a neutral-sounding voice.

  “You too,” Wyn said.

  “Any change?”

  “No. She’s still on the respirator. God, I hate that sound. I hate all those machines, those bags of stuff going into her veins. There’s nothing more to do. Callie didn’t have the best health policy,” he went on. “It runs out next month. It’s been paying half benefits for the past month. The doctor . . . I’ve been paying the difference. Then it’s Medicaid.”

  He’s whining, Brie thought. “What did the doctor say?”

  “Well, as you know, none of the specialists are holding out any hope that Callie will come out of this. He suggested we—no, that’s wrong, he mentioned turning off the machines and moving her to a nursing home. They’re frightfully expensive, too. Almost three thousand dollars a month and the patient only gets custodial care. She would still be getting the intravenous nutrients.”