Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

“Whenever you can go to Atlanta. They took off today like scalded cats. What that means . . .”

  “I know what it means. What the hell did you do—or what didn’t you do is more like it?”

  “A lot of things, I guess,” Bode said wearily.

  “You got any beer at Parker Manor?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then let’s stop at the store over there. I have this taste for Australian beer. Do you think they have Foster’s here?”

  “Jeez, Hatch, I don’t know. I’ll ask.”

  They found it at the fourth store they stopped in. Hatch bought all they had and placed an order for more that he said he’d pick up in a few days; Bode just rolled his eyes. “You never mention my second biggest accomplishment in life,” Hatch remarked. “Why is that, Bode?”

  “Just because you can drink a twelve-pack and hold your urine doesn’t mean you should go in the record books, does it?”

  “You can’t do it?”

  “Why would I want to?”

  “To see if you can do it. That’s what life is all about, Bode. You take yourself too seriously. Lighten up, for God’s sake.”

  Bode sighed. “I’m going to say one thing to you now and then we aren’t going to talk until we get home. Promise?”

  “Sure.”

  “My name isn’t Bowdey Jessup. My name is Michael Clemson Harrold Parker. Parker, Hatch.”

  Hatch rolled down the window. The air smelled sweet and clean. He lit two cigarettes and handed one to Bode. He continued to stare out at the dark night.

  Twenty minutes later Bode said, “We’re home. Welcome to Parker Manor, Hatch.”

  In the kitchen he tossed Hatch an opener. “Are you hungry?”

  “I was born hungry, you know that.”

  “We have fried chicken, cheese, some leftover spaghetti. Anything sound good?”

  “Yeah, pop it all in that microwave and I’ll get rid of it for you. What’s for dessert?”

  “A whole, as in whole, praline pie. I think there’s some ice cream, too.”

  “That sounds good. Warm up the pie, though. This place must be very old. I like old things. Old things have character, like some people.”

  Hatch finished the last of the praline pie just as Bode finished his story. “This isn’t some textbook case we’re studying. We’re real people with faces and names you know and recognize.”

  Hatch lit a cigarette and blew a perfect smoke ring. “I’m giving these hateful things up the first of the year. I think you left out one of the most important parts of your story. Until you can admit, commit, you ain’t going nowhere, buddy. And don’t insult this old Indian by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “She made it perfectly clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with me. She said she wished I could have seen my own face when Callie opened her eyes. She misunderstood what she saw. Over the years she gave me so many chances, and I blew them all.”

  “Unrequited love must be a terrible thing,” Hatch said, blowing a second perfect smoke ring. “You aren’t a kid anymore, you’re all grown-up, so that means you have to take responsibility for your own actions. If I was standing in Brie’s shoes, I can’t say I would have done anything differently than she did. How much is she supposed to suck up? She covered your ass for the holidays. That’s a biggie. She took a leave of absence to come here and do what she could. She made it possible for you to play the White Knight and be a martyr at the same time. I’d say that covers going that extra mile. How could you be such an asshole, Bode?”

  “Looking back, it came easy,” Bode said, picking at the crumbs on the pie plate.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into the FBI? For a woman it’s even harder. I hope you sent her some roses or candy or something.”

  “She told me on the phone that she was accepted at the academy. I was so proud of her I wanted to bust. I told her so, but she just passed it off. These past months have been a real learning lesson for all of us. Brie and Sela as kids didn’t come out here because of Callie. That’s what everyone thought and believed. They came because of Pearl and me. I never knew that, Hatch. I don’t think they even like Callie. Yet they knocked themselves out for—”

  “Mama Pearl and you. They pulled up your slack. Guess that stings a little bit, huh?”

  “It stings a lot, Hatch.” He paused. “Callie is going to need a lot of care and support if she’s to get well. She’ll expect me to be there for her. She’s never going to accept who she is. I don’t even know if I should tell her. Maybe when she’s ready to handle it. What if she doesn’t recover fully? What if she always needs care? Am I supposed to turn my back on her? The girls think she called off her wedding to Wynfield Archer because she realized she loved me and because of Mama Pearl. Right now the reason isn’t important. She called it off. Knowing Callie as I do, that means to me that she expects something.”

  “She’s an able attorney, you said so yourself. She can work like the rest of us if she recovers. She also has a set of parents, real brothers and sisters. Family is important. If we can take care of this insurance business and do what has to be done, pay her medical bills and if she can be rehabilitated, I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “Her expectations,” Bode said quietly.

  “Look, I’m not saying you should desert her. I’m saying she has a family who I’m sure have never forgotten her and love her just the way they love their other children. You cannot keep sacrificing your life for this girl. It’s not healthy. Brie and Sela saw that—that’s why they left. Life goes on, Bode. I’m not being cruel, it’s reality. That nobility of yours has to stop somewhere. This is a good starting point. You can work on the rest of it. I pay you enough so you can fly back and forth and if you have a mind to, you can take some flying lessons and fly yourself here. Whatever I have is yours, and that includes the jet.”

  Bode opened two beers and set one in front of Hatch. “Callie will never accept the fact that she’s half-African-American. Mama Pearl did a real good job on her. Callie still has the old beliefs. I don’t think she’s capable of changing. I know her, Hatch, she’ll try to pass. I don’t know if they still use that term today or not. The old people do,” Bode said quietly, his eyes somber.

  “That’s her problem now, isn’t it?”

  “One we all unknowingly contributed to.”

  “Do you think the hospital called Mr. Archer?”

  “I’m sure they did. The Judge, too. He’s her legal guardian. They’d have to call him.”

  “I imagine he’s sweating a lot right now. If Brie is right and Archer is responsible for the accident, it’s all going to bust loose. Why didn’t you and Brie ever push it further?”

  “The police and the insurance companies were satisfied.”

  “What happened to the car?”

  “I guess it was taken to the junkyard and sold for parts. I never asked. Why?”

  “It’s the little things, the things people don’t pay attention to. I’d like to look at the seat belts. He said he was wearing his and she wasn’t. Isn’t that what you said Brie told you?”

  “It’s in the police report. Brie had copies of everything she could get her hands on. Wyn told Sela the names of the insurance companies, and Brie called them all. Everything is a matter of public record. She had a file on the Seagreaves’ lawsuit, too. I don’t think that’s been settled yet. Probably sometime next year.”

  “Let me see it,” Hatch said, swallowing in one gulp half the contents of his beer bottle.

  Bode reached into the cabinet and withdrew an accordion-pleated brown envelope. “It’s all in here.”

  “Cops have instincts about cases like this, and women cops have an edge with their female intuition. Bet you weren’t aware of that, Bode.”

  “You don’t even know Brie Canfield,” Bode mumbled.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Bode. I listen when you talk. I can tell you more about that young woman than you even rem
ember. Every time you talked about her your voice changed. When you talked about Callie or Sela it was a different voice. I think you thought you were in love with Callie Parker. That’s why you cut and ran and took me up on my offer. What you felt wasn’t even close to love. All you were seeking, all you wanted, was approval and validation from Mama Pearl, and she gave it to you.”

  “You’ve had five beers, Hatch. Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

  “Nope,” he said, uncapping another bottle. “I just love this Australian beer. Tell me about Mama Pearl’s funeral. We need to lay that one to rest.”

  “It was so spiritual I bawled all the way through it. The Reverend’s eulogy was perfect. Everyone in the parish came, even the children. Arquette said some words. Hatch, I swear by God I saw Lazarus in the back of the church. I looked right . . . through him. He . . . you aren’t going to believe this and maybe I was overcome with grief, but what he did was . . . he gave me a thumbs-up. I . . . ah . . . I gave him one back and then he winked at me. He honest to God winked at me, Hatch.”

  “Hey, you’re talking to an Indian. We see spirits all the time. Don’t go thinking you’re one-upping me here. I believe it!”

  “I guess he came to escort Mama Pearl, huh?”

  “That makes you feel better to think that, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it does.”

  “That’s how us Indians believe, too.” Hatch grinned.

  “Anyway, the rest of the service was boisterous. Mama Pearl did love a good funeral. We laid her to rest next to Lazarus. The Reverend and his congregation put out a wonderful spread and he gave me a basket of food to bring home. You just finished it off. I’m going to sell this place.”

  “Sounds good to me. You got a buyer?”

  Bode explained what Sela had told him about Heywood Mudson. “Wyn could never have sold it anyway since Brie and I own fifty acres, smack right in the middle. I can do a lot of good with the money if I sell it, Hatch.”

  “That you could. Callie?”

  “I can pay off any outstanding bills the insurance doesn’t cover. I can give her a nest egg. Start her out in her own office. Back her a little financially. Set aside some money for her family. Do some scholarships, help the Reverend. I’d kind of like to get the stonemason to carve two angels for the tops of Mama Pearl’s and Lazarus’s stones. I think they’d like that. I want Lazarus’s angel to be giving the thumbs-up salute. Do you think that’s tacky, Hatch?”

  “Hell no. You do whatever it takes. That’s my philosophy. I think Mama Pearl would like that, Bode.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me, Hatch?” Bode asked with so much sorrow in his voice Hatch wanted to cry for his friend.

  “I don’t know. If I had to guess, I’d say she knew you could handle it when the time came because you loved her. It goes without saying that she loved you. My own grandmother was like Mama Pearl. A secret was sacred. It didn’t matter if it was wrong or not. You have to look at the positive side of things.” .

  “What’s positive about Callie’s side of things?”

  “Mama Pearl did what she thought she had to do. I don’t think she was able to see what the ramifications would be down the road. From all you’ve told me, she thought love and home could make up for everything. She didn’t take her secret to the grave with her, so that has to count.”

  “I wish she had.”

  “No you don’t,” Hatch said quietly. “You’re doing it again, Bode. You’re taking responsibility for Callie. You have to let go. You can help out, but that’s it. That’s my opinion.”

  “And as usual, it’s a wise one.”

  “It’s going to be light in about twenty minutes. Let’s head out to that junkyard and see if Mr. Archer’s car is still there.”

  “Don’t you have to go to the bathroom, Hatch?” Bode looked at the eight beer bottles on Hatch’s side of the table.

  “Nope. Noticed you went three times though.” He grinned.

  “It was the coffee.”

  “Whatever,” Hatch said, lumbering to his feet.

  At fifteen minutes past seven they found Wynfield Archer’s car with the aid of the young man on duty. It no longer had doors or tires or windshield wipers. The back panel was missing as well as the trunk lid.

  “You’ll have to do it, Bode. I’m too big to squeeze past this Jeep Cherokee. All you gotta do is check the seat belts.”

  “It’s been here for months. Take the elements into consideration. Hey, the driver’s side works. The passenger side won’t catch.”

  Hatch led the young man away from the cars. “Is there any way we can take out the front seat and the belts without ruining the way they operate?”

  “Sure. It’ll cost you though.”

  “How about a hundred bucks?”

  “You got it, mister. I’ll have to go back and get my tool kit and bring a dolly to carry it back on.”

  Hatch knew he was paying seventy-five dollars too much, but he didn’t care.

  “We’re taking the whole seat and anything else the kid takes off, Bode.”

  “And what are we going to do with it?”

  “Hold on to it until we see if Callie has her memory back. If not, we can use it as a scare tactic. Being as good a defense attorney as I am, I could punch five holes in this whole thing, but Mr. Archer, if I’m right, is going to be running pretty scared. I say he ’fesses up as soon as he sees the seat.”

  “If what I suspect is true, I can’t even begin to comprehend the emotional strain Wyn is under. I don’t think I could have done it. Carrying guilt you can’t resolve is like cancer. It kills,” Bode said coldly.

  “Son, how would you like to make another fifty bucks? I saw a pickup by the entrance. If you can deliver that seat out to Parker Manor I’d be obliged.”

  “You got it, mister. I can’t do it until Mike comes in though. Is that okay?”

  “Sure is. Park it on the back porch, okay?” A wad of twenty dollar bills changed hands.

  “Now what?” Bode asked.

  “Now we eat. It’s breakfast time,” Hatch said happily.

  “Then what?”

  “Then it’s up to you what we do next. We either go to see Mr. Archer, we call the hospital, or we go to the hospital. I do think though you should notify Callie’s parents that she’s awake.”

  “Jesus, Hatch, I never thought of that,” Bode said.

  “That’s why you have me around. I’m the thinker, you’re the doer.”

  “Ha,” Bode snorted.

  They stopped at the Flowertown Restaurant. While Hatch finally headed for the bathroom, to Bode’s relief, he looked up the Davises’ address in the phone book.

  Bode watched in amazement as Hatch disposed of four eggs, two side orders of bacon, a side order of hash browns, six slices of toast, three glasses of orange juice, and four cups of coffee. He himself had one scrambled egg and a slice of toast and one cup of coffee.

  It was nine o’clock when Bode knocked on the door of the Davis house. It was opened almost immediately by Mrs. Davis. At the sight of him, fear shadowed her face, and she called out to her husband. When Bode smiled, she relaxed immediately and opened the screen door. Hatch had to duck his head to get in. Mrs. Davis beamed as she craned her neck to look up at him.

  “I know you, Mr. Jessup. We met at Pearl’s funeral.” Mr. Davis shuffled from one foot to the other, his face puzzled at this early-morning visit.

  “We came about Callie. I knew you’d want to know. She woke up yesterday. They’ve moved her back to the ICU at the hospital. She said a few words, she smiled, and if I asked her a question, she could blink yes or no. They’re going to be doing an extensive evaluation on her, and I think there’s a good chance they’ll be moving her to the Rusk Institute in New York City. It’s the best in the world, I’m told. That’s all I know for now, but I’ll call you if there’s any other news. We’ll be going to the hospital later today. This is my friend Hatch Littletree. Sorry about my manners. I just wanted to hurry and tel
l you about Callie.”

  “It’s very kind of you,” Mrs. Davis said with tears in her eyes. Mr. Davis’s hands were shaking when he held one out to Hatch.

  “Is there anything we can do, Mrs. Davis?” Bode asked.

  “No. Is there anything you want to ask me, Mr. Jessup?”

  “No, thanks. Although when I go home, I’ll probably think of a hundred things.”

  “Is there anything we can do for you, Mr. Jessup?” Mr. Davis asked.

  “Yes, there is. Will you pray for Mama Pearl?”

  “We’d be honored to offer up our prayers. Pearl was a fine woman and will be sorely missed,” Mrs. Davis said.

  “I’ll call,” Bode said.

  “Thank you,” both Davises said.

  “Nice people,” Hatch said. “Hey, Bode, wait a minute. Is that one of the Davis children?” A girl of twelve or so was coming up the walkway.

  “Guess so. Why?”

  “I want to do something. I gotta do this,” Hatch said, sprinting over to the girl. Bode watched as he fished around in his pocket for a bunch of crumpled bills. He held it out. “Go spend all of this on soda pop, candy, and ice cream. Don’t spend it on anything else, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir, if my mama says I can.”

  “Now you’re gonna take all the fun out of it. Okay, okay,” Hatch grumbled. The girl ran into the house. She stopped twice to pick up a bill that she dropped.

  In the car Hatch said, “You know, when I was a kid on the Reservation I used to dream that some person would come to me and do what I just did. I can’t tell you how many times I dreamed of that actually happening. Every day I changed the list of things I’d buy. One day it was Hershey bars, Mallow Cups, marshmallows, licorice, caramel popcorn, triple-decker ice-cream cones. You name it, I ate it in my dreams. God, it was wonderful. Guess that’s why I’m such a junk-food eater today.”

  “Why this kid? You could have gone back to the Reservation anytime you wanted and done the same thing.”

  “A lot you know. The elders watch me like a hawk. No way could I do that. My people are big on health food and good strong teeth. I don’t think these people have a lot of money to spare for junk. All kids need a certain amount of . . . Oh, shut the hell up, Bode. I wanted to do it, and I did it. Do you think I offended them?” he asked anxiously.