Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “No need, Avery,” Miss Nela said, opening the door on them. “You just sit there with your guest and drink these beers. I fetched some chips, too, because I know Bode dearly loves them. It’s good to see you, honey.” Miss Nela favored Bode with one of her wet kisses. “I’ll put an extra blanket on the bed for you. Guess you aren’t used to these cold days. Does it get cold in Santa Fe? Oh well, I’ll put the blanket on anyway. You can’t keep a secret from me, Avery, and we both know it. I knew Bode was here the moment the doorbell rang. That’s why you didn’t want to go to my sister’s; you knew Bode was coming. All you had to say was ‘Bode’s coming,’ and I wouldn’t have pestered you. You don’t think, Avery. What would you do without me? Good night, Bode. Help yourself to anything you need for that little dog of yours. Good night, Avery. Don’t you be bending this boy’s ears until the wee morning hours. Do you hear me, Avery?”

  “Yes, Nela, I hear you,” the Judge sighed.

  When the door closed, the Judge clapped his hands and cackled. “Now we can talk and drink to our hearts’ content. She doesn’t like me to drink beer, says I stink up the bedroom. Guess she’s going to sleep in the spare room. Fine woman, Miss Nela. I love her, but I wish she’d leave me alone for about a week.”

  “What would you do if she did?” Bode grinned.

  “Well, I’d probably . . . What I’d do is . . . Hell, Bode, I don’t know! Probably sleep all week. Now, tell me, what brings you back here?”

  Bode shrugged. “A feeling that something’s not right. A feeling I can’t shake off.” His heart almost pounded itself out of his chest when he saw the Judge look everywhere but at him.

  “Start at the beginning, from the moment I left here. Judge, don’t leave anything out.”

  “Son, I’d rather take a whipping than tell you what’s been going on. You should have called, Bode. I wish you’d called.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Obviously I’m going to wish I had. Cut to the chase, Judge, and don’t spare my feelings.”

  “Light a cigarette, then, Bode, and drink your beer. You need to have something in your hands because you aren’t going to like any of this.”

  He told him all of it, right up to Brie’s visit and the call he’d put in to the doctor to visit Pearl. “I know you, Bode. You’re going to start blaming yourself, but none of this is your fault. It would have happened even if you’d been here. There was nothing you could have done; there’s nothing you can do now. Everything is out of our hands. Nela and I go to see Callie every Sunday afternoon. We take fresh flowers and sit and talk for a few hours. Nela cries all evening when we come home. Brie came back because of Pearl. Sela is doing all she can. She even pays the taxes. The part that breaks my heart is that the child is on Medicaid. Her father was a proud man. He must be spinning in his grave.

  “I know exactly what you’re thinking, Bode. You want to borrow Miss Nela’s bicycle and you want to pedal out to Parker Manor. Well, I’m not going to allow you to do that. You need some thinking time. Morning will be soon enough. Pearl will be sleeping, and so will the girls. Morning is good. Breakfast and Pearl’s fine coffee will give you something to look forward to. You mind me, Bode.”

  “You’re right, Judge. I can’t believe this. I should have known, had some kind of second sense. Is it only women who have instincts about things like this?”

  The Judge snorted. “According to Miss Nela, yes. According to me, no. It all happened. We can’t change anything. You have to go on and work at it now—tomorrow. Tomorrow will be soon enough, Bode. Now, away with doom and gloom. Tell me all about you and what’s been going on in your life.”

  Bode talked for an hour. When he had finished, he withdrew a check for the balance of his debt. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to pay this all off.”

  “I wanted to cancel Brie’s remaining seven hundred dollars, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She asked for an extension of time and of course I gave it to her. Bode, I’d like you to pay it for her. Now.”

  “Sure, Judge, that’s no problem,” Bode said, fishing his checkbook out of his backpack. He scribbled off the amount and handed it over. His eyebrows shot upward when the Judge smacked his hands gleefully and cackled like a rooster.

  “Bet you thought I was being a greedy old man. You should know better, son. Now, I can give you this. I have a feeling, especially after what Brie told me, that this is more important than either one of us knows. It’ll just take me a minute to get what I need out of the safe. Have another beer. You’re going to need it. You’ll have to fetch it, I guess. Go on, go on, this will take just a minute.”

  Bode returned to the Judge’s study with four Budweisers under his arm. He sat down, uncapped two, and held one out to the Judge who waved it aside.

  “This belongs to you and Brie. It’s been recorded and it’s damn official. How you both handle it is up to you. You and Brie paid for this with the sweat off your backs.” He held out the deed to fifty acres of Parker land to Bode. “Brie doesn’t know about this, so you’ll have to tell her. She’ll take it better from you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Bode said, scanning the deed.

  “What don’t you understand?” the Judge fretted.

  “I didn’t buy this property.”

  “I bought it for you. You and Brie paid me back. You were being so damnably noble, saying you had to pay for Callie to go to college and law school. There was your tuition to pay and Brie’s, too. The only way that could happen was to sell off a piece of Parker land. I presented the idea to Callie, and she balked at first. Pearl had to take matters in hand. It was time for Callie to find out she wasn’t a rich little girl. I bought the land for a fair price and paid for all of you to go to school. You and Brie repaid it all. The two of you paid for Callie, too. Now that the debt is cleared, the fifty acres is yours. Deservedly so.”

  “I can’t take this,” Bode mumbled.

  “And why the hell not? You paid for it,” the Judge shouted.

  “Well, that may be, but . . . it doesn’t seem right.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone to college or law school, Bode, none of you would have. Sela was fortunate—she had loans, but you three didn’t have a chance. I don’t want to hear another word. If you’re thinking about giving it back, I’d rethink that thought. You’d be giving it to Wynfield Archer. Brie won’t stand still for that. I told you what her feelings are and where Sela stands in regard to Wynfield. I’m not saying Wynfield isn’t a decent man, he is. Can’t take that away from him. He’s shouldered all the bills, and he did what he could. Now, you finish that beer and go on to bed. It’s tomorrow already. Time is going too fast, Bode. It seems to be catching up to me of late. I’m going to be seventy-nine soon. I was just saying to Miss Nela, I wish for yesterday. Every day I wish for yesterday. Miss Nela says I’m wishing my life away. You do that when you get old. Do you wish for yesterday, Bode?”

  “All the time,” Bode said softly. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Judge. I’ll never forget your kindnesses over the years. I don’t know if I could have made it without you.”

  “One way or another I suspect you would have. I just made it a tad easier—and believe me when I say it gave me as much pleasure as it gave you. It’s funny, Brie and I had this same exact conversation. Fine girl. You have to be special to work for the FBI. Mighty fine girl. Don’t know any finer,” the Judge said slyly. “Be a pity if she left here for good.”

  “I’m not that dumb, Judge,” Bode said wryly.

  “Sometimes you are, especially where women are concerned. You backed the wrong horse, son. You realize it now, don’t you?”

  “I realized it a long time ago, Judge. Thanks, though, for bringing it to my attention again.”

  “I’d like it if you’d stay here. That way I won’t have to go to Columbia.”

  “Judge, why don’t you tell Miss Nela you don’t want to go, instead of beating around the bush?”

  “Just like that—tell her?”

  “Just like that.
I even know what she’s going to say. She’s going to say: ‘Well, Avery, if that’s how you feel about it, we won’t go.’ You’re off the hook. Trust me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d you get so smart?”

  “You were my teacher, Judge. You go along to bed. I’m going to sit here and finish this beer. Like you said, I need some thinking time.”

  “Good night, Bode. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Judge.”

  Bode reached into the Judge’s humidor for one of his cigars. When the tip was glowing he sat back in the chair to try and appreciate the buzz he was feeling. Did he really have a buzz, or was he feeling this way because of all the things the Judge had told him?

  Guilt was a terrible thing. It worked on your emotions and reduced you to a quivering mass of nothingness.

  Callie in a coma. How was he going to live with that? Callie had decided to call off her wedding just hours after he left Summerville.

  Pearl sick, maybe seriously so.

  Sela and Pearl living at Parker Manor.

  Sela hanging around with Wynfield Archer.

  His and Brie’s ownership of fifty acres of Parker land.

  Jesus Christ.

  How was he supposed to deal with all this? “Very carefully, Bode,” he answered himself. He wished he could shrivel up like the last summer peach and disintegrate into dust.

  Had he subconsciously prepared himself for something like this when he accepted Hatch’s offer? Always honest with himself, he thought he probably had, but it hadn’t worked. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, the little family he’d taken responsibility for, for so long, was always with him. He’d read somewhere that a person always yearned to return to their roots.

  Callie in a coma. Inconceivable. Mama Pearl would expect him to work some kind of a miracle where Callie was concerned, and he was going to disappoint her. She was holding on, waiting for him to get here. How . . . what had made the decision for him? Not Hatch and the airline ticket. Something had grabbed at his soul when he was staring out of his office window. There had been one brief second when he knew totally, absolutely, that something was wrong. Hatch must have felt it, too. From what he’d said, he’d called the travel agent on the first floor of the building and asked for an open, first-class ticket. It was in his hand in ten minutes. Hatch could always read him and often boasted that he knew what Bode was thinking before Bode knew it himself. It had to be some Indian thing that enabled him to do so. Bode cuddled the sleeping Harry closer against his chest and felt the small animal’s heart beating against his own, slower rhythm.

  If Sela was living at Parker Manor, it was because of Pearl. If Brie had taken a leave of absence, it was serious. Special Agent Canfield, FBI. The thought made him light-headed. Later, after he talked with Brie, he’d think about her suspicions. He could see Sela and Wynfield together. In his gut he’d known Callie and Wyn weren’t meant for each other. And now, the biggie—his and Brie’s ownership of fifty acres of Parker land. Brie didn’t even know about it. When he told her—and he was going to tell her—she’d say: “I don’t want it. Give it back!” If it was Sela, she’d swoon and figure out a way to make it work for her.

  The awful, sick feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, the same kind of apprehension he’d experienced when he was little and something was really wrong, was going to consume him any minute now. He took deep breaths, put his head between his knees. Harry protested by jumping off his lap and peeing on the Judge’s carpet.

  He had to get out of there—immediately. He scribbled off a note to the Judge and placed it in the center of the green blotter on his desk. He was going to borrow Miss Nela’s ancient bicycle, the one she rode up and down the driveway to slim her hips, the bicycle that had the brakes on the pedals and a basket behind the seat for her water bottle. Harry would love the basket and fit snugly inside it.

  Outside in the brisk, cold air, Bode straddled Miss Nela’s bicycle and thought about Callie Parker. He didn’t love her the way a man is supposed to love a woman. Had he been obsessed with Callie? Brie said he was. Brie said it was that coming-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks thing, the social barriers making Callie seem more desirable than she was. She’d called him a fool, a sap, a jerk, and told him to grow up and get real. Brie was always too verbal, so much so she sometimes gave him nightmares. “Come to grips with it, Bode,” he told himself desperately. “Admit either that you love her, or you don’t.” Now she was going to tell him and already he knew the words, could hear them ricocheting around his head: “Callie is in a coma, probably won’t recover, and you’re off the hook. You need never come to terms with your feelings for her now. Good for you, Bode. You’re an asshole.”

  She was right. Brie was always right. He squirmed on the seat of the bicycle. “Declare your emotions and live with it. Overcome any and all obstacles. Speak up and out, stop dancing around. Do you or don’t you?” When Callie had said, “Let’s . . .” what had he done? Turned her down flat and walked away. In control. Was it that he had just needed to hear her say the words? “I don’t want to deal with this now,” he muttered. “That’s your problem,” Brie’s voice mocked him. “You’re a coward, Bode Jessup. You do have a flaw, you aren’t perfect after all. Now I know your Achilles’ heel. So there, Bode Jessup.” “Shut up, Brie! Just shut the hell up,” Bode grated. Her laughter followed him all the way to Parker Manor. It wasn’t taunting laughter; it was sad and vulnerable-sounding.

  He wanted to cry then because in the whole of his life he’d never allowed himself the luxury of tears. Pearl said that boys weren’t supposed to cry. Colored boys never cried, she said. “Well, that’s goddamn bullshit,” he snarled. But he didn’t cry.

  Brie climbed out of bed and snuggled into her worn, frayed robe that was so old it felt like the finest satin. In the kitchen she struck a match to the fire in the fireplace, plugged in the coffeepot, and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She finished just as the coffee made its last plop-plop sound.

  She liked this part of morning best, when it was just turning light and she sat in Pearl’s old rocker by the fire and drank the first cup of coffee of the day. She’d prepared cinnamon buns before she went to bed. They’d go into the oven the moment she heard Sela and Pearl stir. She wondered if the temperature would rise. Last night it had been only thirty-seven degrees when Sela came home. She walked over to the back door to check the thermometer on the side of the house.

  She saw him then, hunched up on the porch steps, a tiny dog on his lap, his arms wrapped around his knees, huddled into himself. She sucked in her breath and leaned against the doorframe for support. She should run in and tell Pearl, but she was afraid to open Pearl’s door.

  Anger, hot and scorching, ripped through her. Now he comes home! Now, when it’s too late! She opened the door. “Get your ass in here, Bode Jessup, before I push you down those steps.”

  “And a good morning to you, too, Special Agent Canfield. I see you’re your usual charming self,” Bode said, getting up and tucking Harry under his arm. “What, no kiss, no hug?”

  “Don’t tempt me to kick your butt, Bode. What are you doing here?”

  “I had this hankering to come home so I acted on it. I got in last night. I stopped by the Judge’s house and then borrowed Miss Nela’s bicycle and pedaled my way out here. This is Harry, by the way. How’s Mama Pearl, Brie?”

  “I don’t know.” Brie’s composure broke. “The Judge said he’s sending the doctor out today. Pearl doesn’t know—she’ll probably send him packing. Maybe not now that you’re here. How the hell do you do it? You always know what to say, have the right words, show up in the nick of time. I hate you, Bode. Come here, Harry,” she said gently, scooping up the tiny bundle. “I love him already.”

  “I hate it when you hate me. Are you going to hate me just for today, or is it a forever hate? I need to know, Brie, so
I’ll know how to act toward you. Hey, you look real ugly in the morning,” he said. “That’s my dog, so don’t try to worm your way into his affections.”

  “Up yours, Bode.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty,” he teased. “Sit down, Brie, and talk to me. I want to hear everything. The Judge ran it through for me, and I have to admit I was in shock. I don’t think my fine legal mind took it all in.”

  “Shouldn’t you go in to see Pearl first?”

  “Not yet. Talk to me, Brie.”

  She did. When she had finished, she drained her coffee and watched as Bode got off his chair, looking neither to the right nor the left, and walked over to Pearl’s door. He opened it and closed it behind him. She ran down the hall to Sela’s room and jumped on the bed. “Sela, wake up and be quiet. Bode’s home! He’s with Pearl.”

  Sela shook her head. “Bode’s home?”

  “That’s what I just said. Get up. He was sitting on the back steps when I got up. He arrived last night and went to the Judge’s house and then came out here.” She looks frightened, Brie thought.

  “Listen, Sela, he knows you’ve been seeing Wyn so don’t . . . you know, lie about it. I know all about it, the whole town knows, so you really don’t have to sneak around anymore. It’s your business, and I’m not going to say anything. Just don’t lie to Bode, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sela said. “You know what, Brie?” she added, around the toothpaste in her mouth. “This kind of ticks me off. He shows up now! We were doing just fine, which goes to prove Bode Jessup doesn’t have all the answers. He can’t do any more than we’ve been doing, can he?” she asked nervously.