Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “Did you call the girls or Mama Pearl to tell them?” Hatch asked slyly.

  “No. I’m going to call tonight. From my new house using my new phone while my new television is turned to mute.”

  “Why don’t you go home for Thanksgiving, Bode? We’re pretty slow around the end of November, and December is nothing more than clients dropping by with grateful gifts. You should plan now on going back for the holidays. Have you given it any thought?”

  “Some,” Bode said, bouncing the keys from one hand to the other. “I have an arbitration hearing the Monday after Thanksgiving. I need to prepare. Maybe next year.”

  “Guess that means you haven’t talked to your family, huh?”

  “They’re never home. I haven’t figured out yet why that is.”

  “You ever hear of the postal system? They deliver mail. Usually it takes three days and then you get a letter back. Great system—I use it all the time. When’s your housewarming? I want to mark it on my calendar. You get all kinds of shitty gifts you have to hide and pull out every time you entertain. It’s an experience.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Bode grinned in spite of himself. “What kind of gift do you usually give?”

  “Me? Yellow fuzzy blankets. The big, thick kind you snuggle in. Two. I always give two. Tell me the truth, Bode, are you all right with this house thing?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m on my way. Guess I need to stop by the market and get some food. My first dinner in my new house.”

  Hatch snorted. “What kind of schlock outfit do you think this is? Your fridge is stocked, your dinner is in the oven. The wine is chilling. Get the hell out of here before it burns,” he said, clapping him on the back.

  Twenty minutes later Bode walked into his four-thousand-square-foot house. The last time he’d been there it was empty. Now, thanks to Hatch and an interior decorator, it was in his face, so to speak. His mouth open, he walked around, peering, staring, gawking. Mama Pearl would probably swoon if she saw this pad. He found himself grinning as he imagined holding Pearl’s hand and walking her through the door. “Lordy, Lordy, Bode, this is so grand. Do all the judges live like this?” And then when he told her it had nothing to do with being a judge she’d gather him close and whisper, “I am so very proud of you; chile. Pearl’s old heart jest wants to bust right out of her chest with proudness.” Her eyes would water, she’d give him a smacking kiss that he would return, and they’d walk arm in arm all over the house. The only problem was, it wasn’t going to happen. Pearl was with Callie. She’d never been outside of the state of South Carolina. Hell, she’d never been outside of Dorchester County so the chances of her coming to New Mexico had to be one in about ninety trillion.

  Bode sat down on a monster couch at least eight feet long. Hatch must have picked it out and measured it with his own body. It was soft, sucking him into the depths. A curl-in-the-corner, swallow-me-into-sleep couch. It was beige with dark chocolate threads running through it. A man’s couch. What else? After all, this was a bachelor pad.

  And what would Brie say? Bode kicked off his sneakers, watched them sail out and land in front of his fireplace. She’d say, “You have the fireplace, I’ll bring the popcorn.” They’d snuggle in this big couch and laugh at some zany show on television. The screen was so big it felt like he was in the movies, even with its blank face staring at him. He reached over for the remote and pressed the power button. Jenny Craig in her white suit was saying something about weight loss. He got up, turned his back on the room, and started to explore.

  The house had everything: stereo throughout, wet bars, concealed refrigerators and one that hung on a wall, a slimline of some sort. It was all so homey, so earthy and yet cheerful at the same time. He wondered how that could be with just him living in the house. The dining room was large, the furniture heavy and masculine-looking. The decorator had gone easy on the flowers and plants, thank God. The kitchen was state of the art with every appliance known to man. Copper gleamed; herbs nestled in little clay pots dotted around the windowsills. A fireplace that backed into the dining room went all the way up through the raised ceiling. He could roast a whole pig in it if he wanted to. A laundry room as big as two bedrooms beckoned him. It wasn’t that he was into washers, dryers, ironing boards, and double sinks; it was the noise he heard from the corner where the hot-water heater stood.

  He saw it then, Hatch’s housewarming gift. He dropped to his haunches and grinned from ear to ear. “Heyyyy, little guy, what’s your name?” The bow on the golden retriever was bigger than he was and bright red. A gift card was tied to the end of the ribbon.

  His name is Harry. He looked like a Harry to me. Of course, you can change it if you want. By now he’s probably hungry. Medusa mixed up a special concoction for him. It’s in the green bowl in the fridge. I personally guarantee, old buddy, that this little creature will love you unconditionally, sleep on your bed, be your best friend in the whole world, and before the week is out he’ll piss in your sneakers. It will be his way of claiming you. He just left his mother, he’s six weeks old today. Medusa has written you instructions if he doesn’t eat the mess she fixed. The old rubber-glove teat, if you know what I mean. Remember to warm everything in your brand-new microwave. The card was signed Hatch.

  Bode picked up the little dog, who was shaking so badly that he opened his shirt and placed him next to his heart. The animal calmed almost immediately. “So, Harry, let’s see what we can find for you to eat.”

  An hour later Bode sat back on his butt to survey his new kitchen. The dog’s food was everywhere because Harry had stepped in his bowl and tracked it all over the tile as he looked for his mother and siblings. His water dish was flowing to the four corners of the room. His whiskers were full of glop that he wiped on Bode’s pants, but he was game, he kept going back to the dish hoping for a nipple. Unsure of how much his new dog really ate, Bode poked his finger into the pablumlike food and let the dog suck off it. Stepping in the mess, he rinsed the dog off in the sink, then wrapped him in a burnt orange hand towel. He opened his shirt again, and within minutes the little animal was asleep. Bode moved carefully as he mopped and cleaned, trying not to disturb his pet. He could hardly wait to finish so he could call the girls and Mama Pearl. Brie would scream in delight. Sela would say, “Who’s going to clean up after it?” and Mama Pearl would tell him, “You treat that animal good, Bode Jessup, because he’s one of God’s special creatures.” Callie would say, “Oh, Bode, better to give it back. How are you going to take care of a dog if you work all day? They make such messes, and they get fleas and ticks. Take it back.”

  Well, Harry wasn’t going anywhere. Harry was his. His first, very own dog. A gift from the nicest guy in the whole world. He’d have to think about putting up a fence in the backyard so Harry could run. Maybe Hatch would let him take him to the office in the beginning. He’d have to paper-train him for a while.

  How he’d hungered for a dog when he was growing up. If he’d been given the choice of a new bike, a new car, anything, he’d have picked a dog. But it never happened. Maybe because he’d never expressed, aloud, his desire for one. Even if he had, who was going to get it for him? Brie maybe. No one else.

  Brie.

  Bode returned to the living room, sitting down gingerly so as not to wake Harry. He turned off the television and picked up the portable phone. He called Brie in San Diego first. He listened to the recording. When he heard the beep he spoke. “It’s Bode, Brie. I just called to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving and to tell you I got a dog. He’s a golden retriever and his name is Harry. He looks like a Harry. He’s just six weeks old and I’m going to let him sleep with me. He doesn’t have the hang of eating yet and I guess he’s going to mess all over everything. Isn’t it great? Hope you’re well. I’ll call again. I think about you all the time. Take care of yourself.”

  Next, Bode called Sela, but the operator told him the line was disconnected. He frowned. Sela must have moved. Brie would know where she was, so he wasn’t
going to worry about Sela.

  He reached down and pulled his yellow pad from his briefcase. He dialed the number for the operator and placed a call to Beaufort person-to-person for Mama Pearl. He listened to the same voice he’d heard a few months ago tell the operator that Pearl didn’t live at Archer Hall. The phone felt hot in Bode’s hand. He dropped it into the cradle and shivered as he wiped his hands on his pants. “What the hell . . .”

  Harry stirred, probably because he was aware of Bode’s fast-beating heart. Bode took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He watched as Harry’s sleepy eyes closed.

  The phone at Parker Manor rang twenty-three times without anyone picking it up. Why was it still connected? Where was Mama Pearl? He dialed the operator again and made a person-to-person call to Callie, but hung up before the call could go through. Wyn and Callie probably took Pearl and went off somewhere for Thanksgiving. Pearl wouldn’t be a party to going away unless Callie whined and cried and threw a temper tantrum. Even then he wasn’t sure Pearl would go. He called the operator again and placed his call person-to-person. The same voice that answered before spoke and said Callie Parker Archer didn’t live there. “What the hell . . .”

  Harry woke fully this time, wiggling to be free of Bode’s shirt. Bode bounded off the sofa and raced to the kitchen, where he sat the wiggling puppy on a pad of newspapers. “That’s it, that’s it, you got it,” Bode said, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “Good boy, Harry.” A moment later the little dog was snug again inside his shirt.

  Bode watched the six o‘clock news, the six-thirty news, and the seven o’clock news. At eight o’clock he put Harry down on the paper again, ate the dried-out dinner in the oven, showered and returned to the sofa where he again dialed Brie’s number, left a second message, and then called Parker Manor and let the phone ring thirty-three times. At ten-thirty he gave up, wrapped a hand towel around Harry’s bottom, and crawled into bed with the little animal nestled on the pillow next to him. The silky ball of fur licked at his cheek before settling down for the night. Bode’s eyes burned as he did his best to free his mind for sleep. Man and dog slept.

  15

  It wasn’t going to be a good day. Brie could feel something in the air, something she used to be able to tune in to, but not anymore. She thought about the spirit world Pearl believed in, the rituals, the hexes and curses. She thought about Callie and Wyn, about Bode and how hard Sela was working. And what was she doing? Cleaning house, cooking, visiting Callie, and driving Pearl to church when she was up to attending services.

  She was on her third cup of coffee, her eye on the clock over the doorway. Sela had been gone since six-forty-five. It was now almost nine, and Pearl hadn’t stirred from her room. She emptied her cup and made a fresh pot of coffee before she tentatively knocked on Pearl’s door. When there was no response she opened the door a crack. “Pearl,” she whispered, “it’s almost nine o’clock. Is everything all right?” The fear in her voice alarmed her. “Pearl, are you awake?”

  “Yes’m, Miz Brie. I’m awake with a bad bellyache.”

  “Can I get you anything? I’ll make you some tea and some Pepto—you know, that pink stuff. You haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you?” She fussed about the bed straightening the covers, feeling Pearl’s forehead the way the old woman had felt hers when she was unwell as a child. To her immense relief, Pearl’s forehead was cool. She bent over to kiss her, tears forming in her eyes. Was this the beginning of Pearl’s downhill slide? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Pearl was supposed to live forever. Pearl was supposed to be healthy and happy forever and ever, fussing over her children.

  Brie dug deep and brought her voice full of tenderness and excitement to the surface. “I have a wonderful idea, Pearl. Today you are going to stay in bed, and I am going to wait on you. I’m going to make some chicken soup and all the things that are good for bellyaches. I’m going to fuss over you the way you always fussed over me. Payback time, Pearl. I can help you to the bathroom if you want.”

  “I don’t want no help. I can get there myself. You make the tea, and Pearl will let you fuss all you want. After, you take the clean nightgowns to Miz Callie. Fetch the soiled ones back so I can be washing them tomorrow. Put the pretty one on her, the one with the pink bows and the ruffle. Will you be doing that for Pearl, Miz Brie?”

  “Sure. But first I’m going to get you comfortable in here. Listen, how about if I bring the phone and the answering machine here, too, in case Bode calls. I can fetch that little hall table in here and set it up.”

  “Bless your heart, Miz Brie.”

  Once again tears burned Brie’s eyes. “Pearl, if your bellyache doesn’t go away, will you let me take you to a doctor?”

  “We’ll see in a few days. You could be fetching me some licorice from the drugstore if it ain’t too much trouble.”

  “A whole sackful. Black, right?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “I’ll bring in the little television that’s in the kitchen and set it on the dresser.”

  “No need to be doing that, Miz Brie. Pearl is no invalid.”

  “I know that. Just for today. It makes the time go faster if you have something to watch. I’ll worry about you here by yourself while I’m with Callie. Or would you rather I call Coletta to stay with you?”

  “Don’t you be doing that. All’s wrong with me is I have a bellyache.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss,” Brie said lightly.

  “You best be remembering that, Miz Brie.”

  In the kitchen Brie’s shoulders slumped. Now what? Pearl’s bellyache was more than a little gas in her stomach, she was sure of that. She was also certain Pearl was as frightened as she herself was.

  Brie prepared perfect golden toast lathered with soft butter and wild blackberry jam that Pearl made every summer. She set it on the little table next to the bed. “Try and eat it all. I’m going to take a shower. The tea’s good, that mint kind you really like.”

  “Yes’m, Miz Brie,” Pearl said. The minute she heard the shower she struggled from the bed and flushed the toast and tea down the toilet. Twice she almost toppled over on her way back to bed. When she fell back against the pillows she wondered if she was getting ready to die. For a week now she’d heard the screech owls, which meant somebody was going to die soon. “Now, Lord, why would You be wanting this worthless old black woman? She ain’t no good for nothing ’cept taking care of that sick chile. If You take me, who is going to look after her? I ask respectfully that You wait a small bit, if You have a mind to be doing it now. Jest a little bit longer, Lord. I need to be talking to my boy. This is Pearl, Lord, from Parker Manor.” She was asleep a moment later.

  Before she left the house, Brie carried the dishes out to the sink, pleased that Pearl had eaten the toast and drunk all of the mint tea. Pearl didn’t wake when she plugged in the phone in the hallway and dragged the cords to the night table. The television set was on the dresser, the small remote next to the phone.

  It was eleven o’clock when Brie left the house, the chicken soup simmering on the stove. When she got back she’d make a chocolate cake, Pearl’s favorite.

  She made two stops, one at the drugstore in town, where she purchased three bags of black licorice and two bottles of Pepto-Bismol. From the drugstore she backtracked, turned right on West Fifth Street, and headed for the Judge’s house, where she knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to open it. The Judge himself peered through the curtains before he opened the door.

  “Well, if you aren’t a sight for these old eyes. What are you doing here, Brie?”

  She told him. “The real reason I stopped was to ask if you’d give me a little extra time paying off the balance of my school loan. And to ask you if you could recommend a doctor who will come out to the manor house to look at Pearl. I know it’s more than a bellyache she’s suffering from. I’m scared out of my wits. Another thing, I just started with the FBI. I could very well lose my job if I extend my leave. I feel like
I’m between that rock and a hard place Bode always talked about. Sela and I want to call him, but Pearl says no. At what point, and is there a point, when we can do what we think is best?”

  “It’s a moral dilemma, Brie. As long as Pearl is clear-thinking, she has the right to expect you to obey her wishes. I would feel the same way. Perhaps this is wishful thinking on my part, but maybe Bode is considering a trip back home. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he didn’t show up at the door one of these fine days. He did love to see the camellias in bloom. He was always bringing Miss Nela a bouquet when he was a youngster.”

  “So, what you’re saying is we shouldn’t get in touch with him. And it’s okay for me to stall on the last seven hundred dollars I owe you.”

  “Yes, my dear, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Now, tell me, how is Callie doing? Has there been any change?”

  “No, I’m sorry to say. I don’t know what to think. Pearl says she’s in the Lord’s hands, and I guess she’s right. I’m on my way there now. Get back to me after you talk to the doctor. No, no, don’t call the house. I’ll call you or else you can call Sela at the office and leave a message.”

  “One way or another, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Judge, have you heard from Bode?”

  “No, I haven’t. I think about him almost every day. I’m sorry I retired. I truly miss the spirited discussions Bode and I used to have.”

  “Wyn?”

  A veil seemed to drop over the Judge’s eyes. “I understand he’s considering politics. I’ve been asked in a roundabout way if I’d endorse him next year.”

  “Will you?”

  “Don’t rightly know at this time. A lot can happen in a year. Miss Nela told me that Anna down at the beauty shop told Helen at St. Paul’s that Sela had breakfast two days in a row with Wyn at Shoney’s,” the Judge said slyly.

  “Two days!” Brie blurted out. “I only knew about one. You old fox, what else have you heard?”