Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  “Nah. All they have to do is look at you and they know you’re genuine. How much did you give her?”

  “About a hundred and twenty dollars. I know she’s going to give it all to her mama and maybe keep ten bucks. That’s okay, too. I had to do it, Bode. Now we have to stop at an ATM machine because I’m out of money.”

  “There’s one in the hospital. That’s where we’re going, right?”

  “You’re driving,” Hatch said. “Whatever you decide is okay with me.”

  “No, it’s too early. Let’s go home and think about this a little bit. I imagine specialists will be arriving this morning, and there probably won’t be anything to report till later in the day. We can call though.”

  “Okay, but let’s stop at a bank.”

  They were home by ten-forty-five, just as the young man from the junkyard arrived with the front seat of Wyn’s old car.

  “I’m going to take a shower while you play with that,” Bode said.

  “Hmmm,” Hatch said as he squatted to inspect the seat belts. When Bode emerged from the bathroom, Hatch had all the papers from Brie’s folder spread out on the back porch alongside the white-leather seat. He leaned back on his haunches. “A lot of money has changed hands here, Bode. There’s no telling what a jury will award the heirs of the Seagreave family. Millions, probably. If I was the defense attorney I’d be out for blood.”

  “Callie didn’t have that much insurance,” Bode said.

  “Sure she did. They’ll go after every policy she has. I see an umbrella here, her homeowners’ and Wyn’s policy hadn’t expired or else he didn’t cancel it when the car was switched over to Callie’s name.”

  “Money is one thing, Hatch, but what about all the things they’re accusing Callie of? They said she was negligent. Everything has been said that can be said. I saw the word murder in there someplace. Jesus.”

  “That’s just a word. If Mr. Archer bailed out and left her holding the bag like we think he did, it ain’t going to be pretty, Bode. Five bucks says he was skunked when he got behind the wheel.”

  “That’s what Brie said. She had the whole thing worked out. Sela told me she presented the case to her fellow agents in one of her classes.”

  “What did they come up with?”

  “Zip. If you have no undeniable proof, all the theory in the world won’t make a difference.”

  “Why didn’t she go for the seat?”

  “Why don’t you call her and ask her?” Bode said, his heart thumping in his chest. “You can offer Sela that job you’re going to create for her.”

  “Wise-ass,” Hatch said, lumbering to his feet. “Ask her to come here, and she can fly back with me. If she’s interested, that is. Or I can stop in Atlanta and pick her up. Let’s do it,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

  Brie’s voice was sleepy-sounding. The moment she recognized his, her own became cold, frostily efficient.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you,” Bode began. “I need to ask you a question. It’s about Callie’s accident.” He didn’t think her voice could get any frostier, but it did. “Why didn’t you go to the junkyard to inspect the car seat and the seat belts?”

  “Because I couldn’t find the damn car. I tried. I went to three junkyards. They told me to look around. Do you have any idea how many cars are in those junkyards? Well, do you?”

  “Hatch and I found it right away,” Bode said.

  “Are you saying I screwed up?” Brie demanded.

  “No. We found it.”

  “And you called to tell me that. Guess what, Bode, I’m not interested. If that’s all, hang up so I can go back to sleep.”

  “It’s almost noon!” Bode squawked.

  “It’s none of your business how long I sleep. Don’t call me again.”

  “If that’s the way you feel about it, I won’t,” Bode shot back.

  “Fine. Good-bye.”

  “Wait a minute, I want to talk to Sela. I think I have a job offer for her.”

  “You do, huh? Well, I’m going to tell her to pass on it. Get a life of your own and stop sticking your nose in ours.”

  “Put Sela on the damn phone, Brie,” Bode ordered. He heard the clunk of the receiver falling on the floor. A moment later Sela’s wary voice came over the wire. She sounded just as cold and nasty as Brie had.

  “Let’s hear it, oh mighty leader without a following,” Sela snapped. “In case you’re interested, Brie just ran into the bathroom crying. I hate you for doing that to her,” she hissed into the phone.

  “I didn’t do anything. All I did was ask her a question.”

  “You’re supposed to have all the answers, Bode. You don’t need Brie or me. Tell me what you want.”

  “Well, I have here in front of me your destiny. This is not a joke, Sela. He also wants to offer you a job. It’s Hatch, my friend I talk about all the time. Starting salary is forty grand. Not too shabby, Sela. He needs a good appraiser. I thought about you right away. Of course, it will mean you have to relocate again. Hefty commissions. You could make a hundred grand a year if you’re interested.” Bode shrugged when Hatch’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Are you talking about the crazy Indian who hatched an egg between his legs,” Sela squawked.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s the one. To my knowledge no one has ever hatched an egg that way.” Hatch groaned. “So, are you interested? He’s prepared to offer you a three-year contract. Can’t beat that, Sela. Plus, listen to this, he has his own Learjet, a house that has no equal, a small yacht, three Mercedes Benzes, a whole fleet of antique cars, and a Porsche you can tool around in. I’d make that part of the deal if I were you. You definitely want your own Porsche. What color do you prefer?”

  “Yellow. Stop it, Bode, I didn’t say I—Make it a 560SL.”

  “Done. What color?”

  “Candy-apple red. What else does he have?”

  “Big feet. Real big. He can drink a twelve-pack and not go to the bathroom. He’s a fashion plate. He travels with a burlap sack though. He said he owns luggage. I’m not sure I believe that. But he does own lots and lots of real estate. He’s heeled, Sela.”

  “You can’t sell me, Bode.”

  “I’m not trying to sell you, I’m trying to interest you in a genuine job that pays very well. You can handle it, Sela, but you do have to move,” Bode said seriously. “Why don’t you drive up today and have a talk with him. If you decide to take it you’ll want to make some plans.”

  “That means I’ll be leaving Brie all alone.”

  “You aren’t joined at the hip, Sela. Everyone has to lead their own life. If you’re happy, Brie will be happy. What do you say?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “No, I need to know now. Will you drive up today?”

  “All right. But I’m not staying. You better not be trying to pull a fast one on me, Bode.”

  - “You’re getting as suspicious and as feisty as Brie. That’s not good, Sela. Wear something fetching, so you can impress my friend.”

  “Impress a guy that hatched an egg between his balls? You got the wrong girl, Bode. What you see is what you get.”

  “See, see.” Bode cackled. “Hatch says that all the time. I knew this was going to work out, I just knew it. Hang up, Sela, and hit the road. We’ll be sitting on the back porch drinking mint juleps.”

  Bode turned. “She hung up. What’s wrong with you, Hatch? You look kind of funny.”

  “You told her about the egg?” he bellowed.

  “A long time ago. Is it my fault she remembered? You want somebody who has a mind like a steel trap, don’t you? She never forgets anything. You’re really going to love her. She doesn’t want a Porsche, she wants a candy-apple red 560SL as part of coming aboard. She wants me to act as her agent. Of course, if you get married I’ll withdraw my services.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Hatch laughed. “Is she really coming?”

  “She said she was. I’d say she’ll be here around three-thirty, maybe fou
r at the latest. She said she’s not staying though, so you better have your presentation all ready.”

  “What presentation?”

  “The one you’re going to make up to entice her to go to work for you. It’s lunchtime,” Bode said airily.

  “We just ate,” Hatch said.

  “That never bothered you before. Ah, I love it. Already smitten, and you haven’t even met her.”

  Hatch stomped off to the bathroom.

  Bode sat on the steps and laughed and laughed.

  The neurologist, Vernon Streeter, shook hands with Wyn Archer. “I’m glad we’re seeing each other under such pleasant circumstances. I know how difficult these past months have been for you. Miracles do happen from time to time and are recognized as such by the medical profession. We’re taking a wait-and-see attitude for the moment. She’s young. She has a strong heart and strong lungs, thanks to her physical condition before the accident, and the therapy Pearl performed every day. All those things have helped. The fact that she is moving spontaneously and understands what we are saying argues well for her eventual recovery.”

  “How about her memory?” Wyn asked, hardly daring to breathe.

  “It’s hard to tell. We aren’t rushing anything at this point. She tires easily and nods off. You can see her for a few minutes, but whatever you do, don’t upset her. Smile, put the smile in your voice. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  Wyn walked into the Intensive Care Unit. He hated this place. The only comfort he felt was that Pearl wasn’t sitting in the waiting room. He was instantly ashamed of the thought.

  Wyn tiptoed over to the bed. “Callie, it’s Wyn. Are you awake? Can you hear me?”

  Callie’s eyes opened. She smiled wanly.

  “My God, you really are awake,” Wyn said in amazement. “It’s been a long time. We came every day and talked for hours. Did you hear us?” She smiled.

  “Can you speak, say a word—or do you smile and blink? You have a beautiful smile, Callie. Say my name.”

  “Wyn.”

  “Do you remember me?” Callie frowned and then smiled.

  “Silly question, huh?” Wyn said. Callie smiled again.

  “I think you’re going to get well very soon. Do you remember much? Do you remember the car accident?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes blinked rapidly three or four times.

  “No, no, don’t think about it, Callie. I’m sorry I asked. It’s over and done with. When you’re well we’ll talk about it. I’m really sorry, Callie.”

  “Baby.”

  “Baby? I don’t know anything about a baby. Is it important?”

  Callie blinked again and again. “Baby.” She smiled such an endearing smile Wyn felt light-headed.

  “I’ll find out and when I come back the next time we’ll talk about the baby, okay? I have to leave now. I’m glad you’re awake, Callie, really glad. I was driving the car the night of the accident.” Callie nodded. A moment later she was asleep.

  Wyn walked out of the hospital, got in his car, and drove to Judge Summers’s house. Forty-five minutes later, the Judge at his side, Wyn entered the police station.

  The six o’clock news out of Charleston carried the news live.

  It was six-thirty when Bode nudged Hatch. “I hear a car.”

  “She’s late,” Hatch mumbled.

  “Nah, this is about right. She had to spend two and a half hours arguing with Brie, another thirty minutes were needed for them to cry on one another’s shoulders, then she had to repair her makeup. This is when I expected her.”

  “You really know a lot about women. I don’t know anything,” Hatch grumbled.

  “Pretend. God, don’t ever let a female think you don’t know what’s going on. Never, ever. Now, c’mon, big guy, I want you to meet the woman of your dreams. You owe me now. Big-time.”

  She looked at him.

  He looked at her.

  She smiled.

  He smiled.

  She held out her hand.

  Hatch took it and brought it to his lips.

  Bode groaned.

  “You said something about a job with lots of perks?” Sela prompted, never taking her eyes off the big man.

  “It’s all yours, perks and all. Anything you want, it’s yours,” Hatch said, drawing her up the steps.

  “I’m easy to please,” Sela told him.

  “Jeez, me too.” Hatch grinned.

  “She’s a hard worker. Gets the job done.” Bode beamed.

  “Me too,” Hatch said.

  “He’s generous to a fault.” Bode continued to beam. “Like you, Sela.”

  “What a nice thing to say.” Sela smiled.

  “Why don’t I leave you two alone?” Bode suggested.

  “I thought you were never going to leave.” Hatch sighed.

  “He’s like chewing gum, he sticks to your shoes.” Sela shrugged.

  Bode huffed and puffed his way into the house. He walked into the living room and sat down on the scratchy sofa and turned on the small television set that had been in Pearl’s room.

  The local seven o‘clock news was rehashing the six o’clock news. Bode bellowed for Hatch and Sela, who came on the run. “Listen, listen!” Bode shouted.

  “I give him credit, he owned up,” Sela said, after they’d sat through the bulletin.

  “Yeah—and the only reason he did so was because Callie woke up. God, I wish Mama Pearl was here to see this.”

  “I think she knows, Bode,” Sela said quietly.

  “By the way, here’s my résumé,” she said, holding out a piece of paper.

  Hatch stuck it in his pocket. “You’re hired. When can you start?”

  “Next week.”

  “Next week? That’s a whole week away,” Hatch grumbled.

  “I have to go back to Atlanta, pack up my car. It’s a long ride to New Mexico.”

  “We can ship your stuff and the car. You can fly back with me.”

  “I still have to pack everything up. Actually, I don’t. I didn’t unpack yet. Brie isn’t going to like this. We made such wonderful plans. You know, the sisterless sisters doing things together, that kind of scene.”

  “She’ll be happy for you, Sela,” Bode said.

  “I hope so. Well, now that that’s all ironed out I should be on my way.”

  “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll call you and you can tell me what time to meet you at the airport, okay?”

  Sela nodded. “Bode, am I doing the right thing here?”

  “Trust me, it’s the right thing.”

  “Okay. It was nice meeting you, Hatch.”

  “Same here.” Hatch grinned.

  “And I’m delighted that I played a very small part in all of this. There’s no need to thank me,” Bode said.

  Sela waved airily, tapped the horn in three zippy notes before she roared out of the driveway.

  “Ah, my destiny. You were right, Bode. I’m in love.”

  “The best part is so is she. I know that girl. She set her eyes on you and that was it. Congratulations. I mean it, Hatch.”

  “I know you mean that, Bode. What are you going to do now that Mr. Archer ’fessed up?”

  “Hang around for a bit. Put this property on the market. Ship Mama Pearl’s things to Santa Fe so they’ll be with me. See if there’s anything I can do for Callie.”

  “Take all the time you need, Bode.”

  “You’re a good friend, Hatch.”

  “So are you, Bode. You’ll always be Bode to me.”

  “I’m keeping my name. I don’t know Michael Clemson Harrold Parker. I don’t want to know him either.”

  “Are you black or white?”

  “I’m me, Hatch.”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s finish off this beer, get a buzz on and tell dirty stories.”

  “Okayyyy.”

  Wynfield Archer settled himself on the sofa, a glass of ice tea in his hand. As of today his drinking days were over. He’d signed up at the local AA meeting hall an
d would attend as often as needed. He was going to punish himself further and watch his performance, and it was a performance, on the eleven o’clock news. He needed to shame himself further, to grit his teeth and watch the man he never thought he could be, admit to all his wrongdoing of the past months.

  “Whatever they do to you, you will deserve it.” He was going to pay and pay and pay, but that was all right. What wasn’t all right was that he could never, ever, make up for the Seagreave family’s loss. He would remember that to his dying day. Whatever it took, he was going to do. Getting religion this late in the game had to mean something—it was a second chance of sorts. What he did with that second chance was going to be up to him. He’d told the police and the Judge, and the various insurance companies that he was going to come forward and admit his guilt even before Callie woke up. He could no longer live with that guilt. All of the authorities looked like they believed him. His ravaged appearance, the Judge said, spoke louder than words.

  Jail time, years of community service, restitution, was a start. At some point, if Callie recovered, she would probably file a lawsuit against him in civil court. And well she should. There was no way in the world he could ever make up for Callie Parker’s suffering. The manslaughter charge was something he’d live with.

  Wyn’s face flashed on the screen. He sipped at the ice tea and watched himself with clinical interest. He looked like a caricature of himself. “You have to get down in the ditch before you can climb out,” he muttered. He sounded sincere, which he was. His reputation was ruined, and he deserved that, too. He watched as his mouth muttered an apology to the Seagreaves family. It wasn’t enough; the monies they’d get from the lawsuit weren’t enough either. What else could he do? Maybe he could think of something while he was sitting in jail.

  He thought about God because God was all that was left to him. He was sorry now that he’d stopped going to church, sorry for so many things, but sorry was just a word. God needed to see what he was about. “I’m going to do whatever it takes, Lord, I swear I will. I won’t ask for anything because I’m weak. I don’t deserve to be alive and well. If I falter, help me. That’s all I ask.”