Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “I know that, chile,” came her voice, faint now yet full of tenderness, “but Lazarus, he says he needs me soon. I’m waiting for his word. You best not be touching my frizzly chickens, Bode. If you do, the devil will git you. You mind Pearl now.”

  “Yes, Mama Pearl. I won’t touch the chickens.”

  “You’re a good boy, Bode. Pearl loves you with all her old heart. So much sometimes it feels like this heart is going to bust right out of my chest. Pearl’s biggest happiness is knowing you loved me like I was your real mama.”

  “You are my real mama, and I love you. Nothing can ever change that.” He bowed his head, tears gathering in his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder, gentle and comforting, and a tissue dropped in his lap. A moment later Sela was gone, the door closing softly behind her. Suddenly Harry was on his lap, whining as he licked the tears from his master’s cheeks. Bode wrapped his arms around the silky dog until Harry woofed softly in protest.

  Brie plopped down on the chair in Callie’s room and mopped at her face. “You’re not going to believe this, Callie, but I’m getting crow’s-feet around my eyes. Sela says this hot humid weather is good for us, makes us supple. You know—like the humidity plumps up the wrinkles. Guess you don’t care about that. You’re just lying there sucking up your nutrients and glucose. I can see you lying there when we’re all sitting in rocking chairs. Wake up, damn you. I’m sick of this, Callie. I don’t know how much more I can take. I know you hear me, I’m talking loud enough. I bet if I counted up my words I’ve said over a million. Pearl probably said ten million, Sela the same as me, and now Bode is talking to you. That’s so many words you can’t pretend you can’t hear. You’re lazy, Callie. You’re too damn lazy to crawl out of that place you’re in. You don’t want to deal with life the way the rest of us have to. You always expect someone else to do it for you, to pave the way, to make it easier.

  “Pearl isn’t going to live much longer. God, Callie, if you would wake up and see her one last time. Try. Try for Pearl. You can do it, Callie, I know you can. Don’t let Pearl go without saying good-bye.

  “You are all Pearl thinks and talks about. She’s delirious sometimes and talks about when you and we were little. It’s so sad, and there’s nothing we can do. If you could just wake up, Callie. If you could just see her this one last time before she goes to meet Lazarus.

  “Damn you, Callie Parker, you owe her! You’re alive, warm and are being fed and someone sees to your personal needs. You take and take and are sucking our life’s blood out of us. Wake up! Take responsibility for your life. Wynfield Archer is going to sell Parker Manor. Does that mean anything to you? Don’t you give a damn? They’ll knock the house down and build a pro shop and golf course. If you wake up, you can stop it.”

  Brie bolted off the chair, her bare feet sticking to the floor as she made her way to Callie’s bed, her hands clenched into two tight fists at her sides. “I know you can hear me, I know it! You need to say good-bye to Pearl. You need to stop Wyn from selling Pearl’s home. I should push you out of that bed, but you’d just lie there and wait for someone to put you back and pretty you up.

  “Listen, Callie. Sela and I are going back to Atlanta. Maybe Bode will stay on; he hasn’t said. We’ll forget about you after a while. That’s what happens when people move away. There will only be strangers around you. You aren’t going to like that. Open your eyes, Callie. Move, do something.” She took Callie’s hand in hers, squeezed it, and let it drop. Deflated, she went back to the chair and mopped at her face and neck.

  She tried another tack. “I know a secret,” she singsonged. “Sela knows it, and so does Bode. You don’t know it though. Pearl’s sick so she can’t make us tell you. It was Pearl who told us the secret. You don’t know it and we aren’t going to tell you. We know a secret, a really big secret.” She kept up the singsong words for forty minutes before she gave up and picked up her purse to leave.

  She turned, and said, “I think Wyn is getting ready to ask the Judge to pull the plug on your nutrients. That means you’ll die. He has to get a court order to do it, so I don’t think the Judge is going to have any trouble. You better start listening to me and get ready to wake up. Bye, Callie.”

  So there.

  Three days passed. Sela was the first one up on Sunday morning. It was her turn to go to town to pick up the Sunday paper and donuts. She peeked in at Pearl, saw Bode asleep in the chair. He looked haggard. She listened to the strange new sounds assaulting her ears. Strangling, rasping sounds, gurgling sounds, sounds she’d never heard before. She shook Bode’s shoulders before she ran down the hall to wake Brie.

  “Should we call the doctor?” Bode asked.

  “I think we should call Pearl’s preacher and Arquette,” Brie said. “I’ll do it.”

  “Call the Judge, too,” Bode said.

  “You want to contact the Judge, Bode, do it yourself,” Brie shouted over her shoulder.

  They came, one by one, dressed in their finest, to pay their last respects to one of their own. Pearl, struggling to breathe, was unaware of the devotion of her congregation. Arquette and his wife cried openly, as did many of the others.

  The preacher, a stately gray-haired gentleman, leaned over the bed and whispered words none of the others could hear. His eyes were wet when he made his way out to the kitchen. “If the Lord placed saints on this earth, then Pearl was a saint. She never said a bad word about anyone. When help was needed Pearl was the first one in line to offer that help. She was a fine, good woman, and the Lord knows that; that’s why He’s taking her. Her heart was big and full of love for everyone. She’ll be sorely missed, and no one will take her seat at services. Bless you all for taking such good care of her. The Lord will reward you. We pray daily for Miss Callie.”

  “Thank you, Reverend.” Brie’s eyes burned unbearably when she led the preacher to the back porch and said, “Which ones are Callie’s parents?”

  “The lady in the blue dress, and her father is the gentleman standing next to her. Speak to them—they’re good people. Are you going to church, Brie?”

  “No, I’m sorry to say. I will, Reverend, I promise.”

  “Promise the Lord, not me. Thank you for calling me. We’ll pray all today for Pearl. I must be going now, service starts in twenty minutes.”

  “I appreciate you coming, Reverend.”

  Brie nodded, kissed the old gentleman on the cheek and watched him drive off.

  Callie’s parents were sweet, gentle people. Both of them had tears in their eyes when Brie offered them coffee in the kitchen. She didn’t know what to say, how to bring up Callie’s name. They knew she knew—she could read it in their expressions.

  “Pearl was a wonderful mother to Bode and Callie,” Callie’s mother said. “There was no other way, Miss Canfield. We knew it was best for Callie. We always knew what was going on. Pearl talked to us at church and then when she started to bring the child it was something that made us both very happy. We visit the nursing home once a week and always take flowers. We talk for a spell, then we leave.”

  “I know,” Brie said in a choked voice.

  “We won’t interfere. The Lord works in mysterious ways, Miss Canfield. Everything in life has a reason behind it. We were glad to come today and be made so welcome. It pleasures my husband and myself to see the place where Callie grew up. Perhaps we’ll see you at services.”

  When they were gone, Brie realized that she didn’t even know their names. She wanted to cry.

  Moments later, Harry let loose with an ear-piercing howl that sent them all on the run to Pearl’s room. Their arms entwined, they could only stare at the puppy, who was doing his best to straighten Pearl’s head on the pillow with his nose. He whimpered as though in pain. He looked up once, and later Bode said his eyes were full of tears. They rushed to the bed, Brie taking one of Pearl’s hands, Sela the other, while Bode cradled Pearl’s head in his arms. Their sobs of sorrow ricocheted around the room. Harry leaped off the bed and ran around in
dizzying circles until he reached the closet, nudged it open and rummaged for one of Pearl’s slippers, which he dragged to the middle of the room and promptly peed a flood. He then bounded back onto the bed to give Pearl one last lick to her face, before scampering into Bode’s arms. Neither Brie nor Sela could tell which of them was whimpering.

  Pearl of Parker Manor joined Lazarus just as the sun began to set. Those left behind, standing sentinel, listened to the last strangled breath and then fell into each other’s arms. They sobbed together, comforted each other as they tried to lock themselves together, fearing aloneness would somehow rob them of all their feelings. They loved as one, they cried as one, and they grieved as one.

  At the funeral, later that week, as hard as he tried, Bode could not quiet the inner trembling in his body. Mama Pearl was really gone, the minister was saying so in many different ways. Ashes to ashes . . . Tears burned his eyes. He wanted to stand up and shout something wonderful, something so meaningful, that the whole congregation would rise up and cheer for Mama Pearl.

  Bode turned slightly in the pew and was stunned to see the small church was full to overflowing. People were standing in the back with small children in their arms. They were all here to pay their final respects to Pearl.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Bode saw Sela offer him a tissue. He reached for it, saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. He turned then, his gaze traveling to the back of the church when he felt a cool swoosh of air on the back of his neck. His eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened in disbelief. Lazarus. Lazarus was there, with a warm, golden glow all around him. Bode gasped. He wiped at his eyes, but the golden glow was still there. Maybe he was supposed to do something, make a sign. Was Mama Pearl with him? He had to know. Bode reached out from his seat at the end of the pew and put his hand on Pearl’s casket. At the same moment he turned again to stare at the golden glow, at Lazarus. He watched as Lazarus’s hand moved until he saw a jaunty thumbs-up salute. Now, where did Lazarus learn that? Bode raised his own hand in a farewell gesture. A moment later the golden glow was gone. He turned back, his attention riveted on the minister when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to cover that hand, thinking it was Sela, but there was nothing on his shoulder. Sela’s hands were folded in her lap. Brie’s hands were clutched around her purse. Mama Pearl.

  A smile as radiant as the glow he’d seen in the back of the small country church settled on his face. He was stroking his chest, that place which covered his heart, when Brie’s hand reached out for his. “She’s here, isn’t she, Bode? I can feel her,” she whispered. Bode nodded. His smile stayed with him. Forever and ever, when Mama Pearl entered his thoughts he would smile.

  On the way home from the cemetery, Brie swore she saw Pearl floating overhead, her wings flapping noisily.

  “You’re drunk,” Sela said irritably. “It was the wine the preacher gave you. He said he had four jugs. It was Lazarus’s wine. I tried to get you to stop because I remembered how potent it was, but you kept guzzling it like soda pop. Ohhh, I don’t want to go home. It won’t be the same without Pearl,” she wailed.

  “We have to go home,” Brie said carefully. She didn’t think she was drunk, but she did have a buzz. “We have to talk to Bode. I told Callie we had a secret. I wouldn’t tell her what it was. I thought it would make her wake up. I screamed and yelled at her something fierce. Pearl would have whipped my bottom if she’d heard me.”

  “She’s gone,” Sela blubbered. “Callie is never going to get better. She’s going to die, too. We’re all that’s left.”

  “We number three,” Bode said quietly.

  “You’re going back to Santa Fe, too, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know when. I’m glad you’re going to go to Atlanta with Brie. I won’t worry about you both so much if I know you’re together.”

  “You don’t need to worry about us at all, Bode. Take a good look at us—we’re all grown-up now.”

  “Are we going to leave Callie behind? How can we do that?” Sela cried.

  “We can have her transferred to Atlanta. I’m agreeable if you are, Sela. Bode?”

  “We can talk about it tomorrow. Why don’t we go home, put our bathing suits on, and turn the hose on ourselves. It’s got to be at least a hundred and ten degrees. We can have a picnic supper,” Bode said, swinging the basket of food the preacher had given him.

  “There’s praline-pecan pie in here. Mama Pearl wouldn’t think we were being disrespectful. We can sit out under the angel oak. I’m in no more of a hurry to go into that house than you are.”

  “I don’t want to change my clothes,” Brie blustered.

  “I don’t either,” Sela said.

  “Okay, we do it in our clothes. I hate this suit anyway,” Bode said.

  “I didn’t know you had a suit with you,” Sela said.

  “I don’t. I borrowed it. Solly Cramer loaned it to me. Said I could keep it. He gained twenty pounds.”

  “That’s tacky,” Brie objected. “The least you could have done was buy a suit for Pearl’s funeral. Shame on you, Bode Jessup.” At Bode’s stricken look she relented, and said, “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you were there.”

  “Why are we snapping and snarling at each other?” Sela demanded. “We need to remember we’re all that’s left.”

  Later, when Bode drove off the main road onto the dirt road that led to Parker Manor, Sela said, “It looks the same, but it shouldn’t. The life force is gone. How can it look the same, Bode?”

  “It’s a place, Sela, and places don’t change. People do.”

  “Have you changed, Bode?”

  “Yes, Brie, but then so have you and Sela. Change is inevitable. It’s up to the individual as to whether it’s for the good or bad. This is just my opinion now. Well, let’s get to it,” he said grimly. He jerked at his tie and threw his jacket over an azalea bush. His face was still grim when he turned on the hose and waved it about menacingly. He expected the girls to squeal and run away. Instead they stood still and let him soak them.

  “This is no fun. First of all the water is pissy warm, and Pearl won’t be hollering from the porch and she won’t yank us in the house and scold us and make us change our clothes. Where’s the challenge in that?” Brie walked over and took the hose from Bode’s hands then turned it on him, squirting first his head then his entire body. “Did you know that if you wet your shoes and keep them on till they are dry, they conform to your feet?”

  “How fascinating. You’re right, this is no fun. I’ll turn the water off,” Bode said.

  They sat cross-legged under the angel oak for a long time, none of them speaking, their eyes on the back window of Pearl’s room.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Sela said finally. “I feel like I should be bawling my eyes out. Another part of me wants to smash something. Is this where we’re supposed to say life goes on or something like that?”

  “I guess,” Brie said.

  “Do you think you’ll ever come back here?” Bode asked her.

  “No. I’ll drive up to see Callie once a month or so, but I’ll stay at a hotel. I don’t think I could come back here. What about you, Sela?”

  “Me neither.”

  “Bode? Will you?” She had to tell him. When would be the right time? How was he going to take it? Maybe she shouldn’t tell him, but then the Judge would make some reference to it, assuming she’d told him, and that would only make matters worse.

  “I don’t remember any other home. Living with the Reverend was all right, but it wasn’t the same as living here. This was home—Mama Pearl made it so. They say you always want to come home. What happens when there’s no home to come back to?”

  “Home is wherever you hang your hat,” Brie said curtly.

  “That’s your present home. Bode’s talking about the home you grew up in,” Sela said.

  “I’m not stupid, Sela. I know what he’s talking about. This will be a memory. I don’t feel like arguing. I wish the damn
place would burn down. Maybe that way it would be out of our systems. Then for sure we wouldn’t want to come back.”

  “I wonder how much Wyn’s going to sell it for?” Sela mused.

  “He can’t sell it—he doesn’t have a clear title. We own fifty acres, and the house sits on our fifty acres. I don’t want it. Brie said she doesn’t want it. But we’re stuck with it. What I suggest is we split it in four and record a new deed. Do you agree with that?”

  “That means we have to pay the taxes,” Sela said. “You’re doing this for Callie, not for us. You want her to have a place to come back to if she wakes up. And, as usual, we’re picking up the tab. I say no. I don’t want it, so don’t put my name on it,” she told him firmly.

  “I agree with Sela. Take my name off it. You can keep it for yourself and Callie,” Brie said bitterly.

  Bode frowned, his mouth a tight line in his face. “Exactly what are we talking about here?”

  “You know very well what we’re talking about. Don’t play stupid with me, Bode. Sela and I have had months to do nothing but talk about all this and relive our past. Yeah, it was wonderful the way we tell it now, but we said it so many times we actually started to believe it. It wasn’t that wonderful, Bode, not for us and not for you. You sucked up the way we did. And all for the privilege of being allowed into Callie’s little circle. She was Cinderella and we two were the Ugly Sisters. You were fucking Prince Charming,” she snarled.

  “I was the only boy—I had to be the prince,” Bode said defensively.

  “It wasn’t a game, Bode,” Sela said.

  “We gave and gave and gave. Speaking for myself I was doing it for Pearl—I thought it made her happy—and for you too, Bode. Callie was a damn little snot, and you know it, but she had you mesmerized. You still get a sappy expression on your face when you talk about her. You should be married by now with a family. Instead you dream about Callie. You cut and ran when you thought she was getting married. I’m sick of hearing your excuses,” Brie said harshly.