Where Yesterday Lives

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Let’s forget about it, okay? I guess it’s only natural for us to remember how we felt about each other.”

  “I guess.”

  Jake smiled at her. “Made you forget your family for a while, though, didn’t I?”

  She tossed a fist of sand at his feet. “Jake Sadler, I thought you’d grown up and quit your incessant teasing.”

  He grinned. “Some things never change.”

  She thought of the way he made her feel and she uttered a short laugh. “That’s for sure.”

  For the rest of the day they kept their conversation on safer topics. Her job at the newspaper, his business. By midafternoon they’d caught up on nine years, all the while keeping a careful distance from each other. Finally, they climbed back on their rented bicycles and continued the rest of the way around the island. After they turned their bikes in, they walked along Main Street and sampled Island Almond Fudge and Northern Nutty White Chocolate.

  At four o’clock they boarded a ferry headed back to the mainland. The air had cooled considerably and Ellen started when something came over her shoulders. It was Jake’s shirt. He’d draped it around her without saying a word. She smiled her thanks, and he nodded. Though he didn’t touch her, his nearness had an almost physical impact on her. The boat arrived at the dock and they walked across the parking lot to his truck. He led her to the passenger side, and before he opened her door, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

  They had lost a great deal, and they both knew they could never have it again. The rules had been established. But for that moment they needed to say good-bye to what they’d found on a secluded island beach in the middle of Lake Michigan.

  “Thank you,” she said finally, tilting her head, looking up into Jake’s face. “Thanks for today. Thanks for understanding.”

  Jake’s hands tightened ever so slightly about her waist and their faces were inches from each other. If he lowered his head now, kissed her, Ellen didn’t know if she could stop herself. Don’t let him do it, God. Please! I’m so weak and if he kisses me, I’ll never go home again. Help me here, Lord.

  Seconds passed and finally she saw him clench his jaw and pull back. He took her hands in his.

  “It was a day from the past.” He smiled. “I won’t ever forget it, Ellen.”

  Thirty minutes later he dropped her off a few houses away from her parents’ home.

  “Just in case our being together might cause trouble with the others,” he said.

  Ellen smiled tenderly. “Thanks again for today,” she whispered.

  He squeezed her hands gently. “Don’t thank me, Ellen. I never thought I’d see you again and…well…I’ll always remember today. I haven’t had a day like that in years.”

  “Years?” she teased.

  He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile. “Nine years, to be exact.”

  She looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. Her eyes fell on her wedding band.

  “You go on,” he said finally. “Call me if you need me.”

  Ellen nodded and reached for the door handle. “Thanks for understanding…about me and Mike. It was good for me to talk about him.”

  Jake smiled sadly. “Me, too. He’s a lucky man, Ellen.” He paused. “Don’t think I wouldn’t give anything to be in his shoes, because I would.”

  “Jake…”

  “I know. We had our time. But don’t ever mistake how I feel about you. No amount of time can change that. Now go inside before I drive away with you and whisk you off to some undiscovered island to live with me forever.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  Again, there was no humor in his level gaze. “I’m honest. Now go.”

  She smiled, thanked him again, and said good-bye. After a few steps, she turned to wave again, but her hand froze at her side. She’d caught sight of Jake’s face just before he drove away…and there had been tears running down his face.

  Twenty-one

  Jane’s children were down for a nap in her parents’ spare bedroom and she was wandering around the hallway looking at framed photographs. Megan, Amy, and Aaron were in the den finishing lunch, trying to figure out what to say at their father’s funeral. For that moment at least, peace reigned in the Barrett household.

  Jane came upon an old, gold-framed photo and studied the roughly colored print of Ellen and her at four and two years old. Even back then Ellen looked confident while Jane looked uncertain. Jane noted how, in the picture, she had leaned on her older sister for support.

  That had certainly changed.

  Now her support came from Troy. She wished he were there so he could calm her down, make her less angry around the others. They had all misunderstood her. It wasn’t that she was mad at them. She simply couldn’t relate to their sorrow and so had become increasingly frustrated. She could hardly wait for the week to be over so she could return to her calm, peaceful life in the Verde Valley.

  She heard footsteps and she glanced out the window to see Ellen, looking tanned and relaxed. Jane’s mouth twisted. How was it that while Jane was wrestling with the memory of being raped, struggling with indifference over her father’s death, Ellen was off sunning herself with an old friend on the beach all day?

  Ellen flung her things on an oversized chair and smiled tentatively at Jane. She was still savoring her day and the last thing she wanted was another fight. “Hi, how’s everyone doing?”

  Jane uttered a short laugh. “Like you care.”

  Fine, Ellen thought. End of discussion. She shrugged and without saying another word headed toward the den where the others had turned off the television so they could talk.

  “I can’t think of what to write,” Aaron was saying as she walked in.

  He was stretched out in their father’s easy chair, his mannerisms almost identical to those of their dad. Ellen sat next to Megan on a comfortable old sofa that had been in the family for years.

  “What’s the discussion?”

  “Where’ve you been?” Amy asked. There was no accusation in her voice, but Amy looked nervous and intimidated by her siblings.

  “The beach.”

  “By yourself?”

  “No, with an old friend.”

  “Who?” Megan asked curiously.

  “No one you’d remember,” she lied. “So, what’re you guys talking about?”

  “Trying to figure out what to write for Dad’s funeral.” Amy studied a page of notes in front of her and wrinkled her face. “Any ideas?”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be a private thing. I mean, you’re supposed to write what you remember about Dad. Not what any of the rest of us remembers. Am I right?” She looked to Aaron and Megan.

  Aaron snorted in frustration and slammed his notes onto the table next to the easy chair. For an instant Ellen remembered that her father had kept his medicine on that table after his bypass surgery. For three months he convalesced in that chair until both thirty-six-inch incisions, one down the center of his chest, the other along the inside of his left leg, had healed. How could a person smoke again after that?

  She brought herself back to focus on her brother. “What’s wrong, Aaron?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Not you. What you said,” he barked. “You say it’s supposed to be our own writing, but I’m not a writer. I can’t put things down on paper like you and Megan and everyone else. I need a little help. Is that all right with you?”

  “I wasn’t trying to start a fight, Aaron. I only want you to understand the purpose of doing separate eulogies. It’s what each of us individually remembers about Dad. Not what someone else remembers.”

  “Okay, but what am I supposed to say?”

  “Exactly,” Amy joined in. “How are we supposed to come up with the right words? I want to write something, say something that comes from my heart. But I can’t think of anything.”

  “Okay, tell you what—” Ellen looked at Amy, her mind racing—“start with you, Amy. Tell me what yo
u loved most about Dad. What you’ll always remember.”

  Amy squirmed uncomfortably. “Well, he was bigger than life, kind of like my hero, I guess.” Her eyes grew damp and Ellen tilted her head in empathy.

  “He was, wasn’t he.”

  Amy nodded, wiping a stray tear.

  “Okay. What else?” Ellen coaxed tenderly, aware that Aaron watched them intently.

  “I remember when we moved to Petoskey and I was a little girl. I fell in the backyard and cracked my chin on the patio.”

  “You were four, I think,” Ellen said.

  “Right.” Amy’s eyes grew distant at the memory. “Daddy picked me up in his arms and took me to the hospital. I don’t remember how they fixed me up or what happened after that. Just that he took care of me.”

  “Okay, now you’re getting somewhere. He was bigger than life, he took care of you. Jot those things down.”

  Amy did as she was told and Ellen turned to Aaron.

  “Now, Aaron, you do the same. What do you remember?”

  Aaron thought awhile, and Ellen could almost see the memories battling to take shape in his mind. But before he would give them a chance to materialize, he forced the chair’s footrest down and stood up in a sudden burst of motion.

  “Forget it!” He hitched up his jeans and turned to leave the room. “All I remember is how he paddled my butt while you girls got off easy.”

  Ellen stared at him, completely baffled. Not so much at what her brother had said as the fact that he seemed to believe it. “Aaron!” she called him back into the room. She did not expect him to return, and when he did, she pointed to the chair. “Sit down. We need to talk about something.”

  “What?” It was more of a grunt than a word but Aaron sat down and waited.

  “Those things that happened to you when you were a child, they’re in the past. They weren’t Dad’s fault, they were ours, mine and the other girls’. But I can tell you now, one adult to another, that everything we ever did to you was done in fun.” She hesitated. “You might not have thought it was funny, you might have felt picked on. But you were our only brother, and we felt it was our duty to gang up against you. It was just a way of getting a few laughs.”

  “I didn’t laugh then,” he said, surprisingly articulate. “And I’m not laughing now. How would you have liked being the only boy with four girls picking on you all the time? And no matter what I said back then, Dad took your side.”

  “Is that the whole story Aaron? Really?” She made sure she had his attention and she continued. “I remember things a little differently Every Saturday you and Dad went out and had fun while Mom and us girls stayed home and cleaned the house. How do you think that felt? And what about your bedroom? Do you think any of us girls wouldn’t have been thrilled with a room of our own?”

  Aaron was quiet.

  “Dad loved you, Aaron. You were his only son. Don’t tell me about how bad you had it.”

  Ellen saw Amy and Megan stare at their brother. Oh, please, Jesus. Don’t let any of them jump in and say anything that will anger Aaron. Just this once, please, let things be peaceful. Ellen knew they were all hurting now; it wasn’t the time to fight about Aaron’s leftover emotional baggage. The girls remained silent and Ellen breathed a sigh of relief.

  When Aaron’s anger seemed to subside, she continued. “Maybe you could write about something that happened in the last few years. Like when you and Dad spent all that time golfing.”

  Aaron put his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders sank but otherwise he was silent, unmoving. The others watched him carefully, and though he didn’t make a sound, they could see huge tears dropping onto the floor. Ellen felt her throat constrict. The ice was melting.

  Jane entered the room then and looked around at the faces of her siblings, unaware of the moment taking place. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re trying to figure out what to write about Dad,” Amy said quietly. “Thinking of memories.”

  “Hmph.” Jane crossed her arms. “You have to have memories to think of them.”

  “You have memories.” Ellen heard the weariness in her voice. “All of us have memories.”

  “Yeah, well some of us have better memories than others,” Jane said pointedly. She sat down next to Amy and picked up a magazine from an end table. Thumbing through the contents she found an article and began to read, seemingly uninterested in the conversation around her.

  “Aaron,” Ellen tried again. “Pretend you’re in a room all by yourself and an imaginary person wants to know what you remember about Dad.”

  Aaron grunted.

  “Write down whatever you would tell that, person. That’s all you need to do.”

  Aaron nodded, sniffing loudly and discreetly wiping his eyes. “Okay. I’ll try.”

  He stood up and lumbered from the room. It was just after six o’clock and he had a date that night with a girlfriend he’d seen the previous year. It was a date he’d clearly looked forward to. He picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Jen, I have to cancel,” Ellen overheard him say “That’s right. I need some time by myself. Right. Okay, talk to you later.”

  Aaron straightened himself up and there was an air of determination about him. He picked up some paper and a pen, grabbed his keys, and left the house without another word to his sisters.

  When the door closed behind him, Ellen looked at the others. “I think he’ll get the eulogy written.”

  Megan nodded. “His feelings are there, they’re just buried so deep it’s hard for anyone to find them.”

  “Yeah,” Ellen agreed. “Even him.”

  Amy studied the notes she had written in the past few minutes and sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll go home early tonight. I think I can work with these notes and put something together. At least I hope so.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Ellen said.

  Jane looked up from her magazine. “Don’t tell her how she’ll do! She doesn’t need your opinion to make her efforts worth something.”

  Ellen leveled an ominous glare at Jane as she stood and turned to Megan. “I’ll be in Mom’s room lying down. Wake me for dinner.” She started to leave and then stopped again. “Oh, and another thing. Tell Mom I’m staying here tonight. It’ll be easier on everyone.”

  Megan looked disappointed but she didn’t argue. “You’re probably right.”

  Jane watched Ellen go, angry that her older sister had given up so easily. If only Ellen cared enough to take her aside and ask what was wrong, Jane might consider telling her about the rape. Maybe then they could work through the barrier between them and find love again, even friendship. Tears stung at her eyes and though her vision was blurred, she stared down at the magazine and pretended to read so no one would see her cry.

  Twenty-two

  Ellen was tired from the bike ride and her day at the beach with Jake. She lay down on her parents’ bed and hugged one of the pillows to her stomach.

  She thought back on the day remembering how close she had come to giving in to Jake.

  Then just as quickly another Scripture, this one from James, besieged her. “Each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown—”

  Stop! She shouted at herself. Enough of that! I needed Jake today and besides, I didn’t do anything wrong. But the argument sounded unconvincing, even to her.

  It was wrong. It was wrong to be with him, a voice within her said. And dangerous.

  She pressed her lips together. If Mike had come with her this week, she would never have called Jake. And she certainly wouldn’t be wrestling with old feelings that should have died a long time ago.

  Mike. At the thought of him, Ellen had to fight off tears again. What had happened to them? Things had been so wonderful at the beginning. Their first date was a complete hit, and after that Mike had been full of surprises, like the time he took her to Canada
for the day or out to dozens of wonderful restaurants. At their wedding Ellen remembered looking into his eyes and thinking she would love Mike Miller for the rest of her life.

  The trouble had started a few years later. They lived in Detroit at first, and Ellen was used to making the trek back and forth to Petoskey. Especially during summer.

  “Mike, my dad wants us to come up this weekend for a barbecue,” she remembered telling him one summer.

  “Sounds good.”

  The week passed, and when Friday arrived Ellen reminded him of their plans. “Are we leaving tonight or in the morning?”

  “Leaving?” He sounded clueless.

  “Yes. For Petoskey. Remember? My dad invited us up for a barbecue this weekend.”

  “Oh, that. Hey, hon, I don’t think I’ll go this time.”

  Ellen’s mouth had dropped open. “What?”

  “Sweetheart, I never really said I wanted to go.” Mike looked suddenly pained. “I said it sounded good.”

  “When someone says something sounds good, it’s typically safe to assume the answer is yes.”

  “Well, you go ahead and go. I have to research the games for next week.”

  “I won’t do that to my father. He’s expecting us and I want us there. You said you’d go.”

  “I did not. I said it sounded good.”

  “It’s the same thing, Mike. Besides, you can do your research in the car. I’ll drive.”

  Mike had exhaled dramatically. “All right, fine. I’ll go. But it would be nice if one of these days you could see things from my point of view. It takes four hours to get to Petoskey and it wastes the whole weekend.”

  While Ellen talked with her parents and caught up on the latest, Mike grabbed a magazine and found a quiet corner. In the end, Mike made the trip miserable by distancing himself from the others and arguing with Ellen until they were back home again. There were a dozen such incidents like that in the early years of their marriage.

  “Tell them I don’t want to go,” Mike would suggest.

  “You don’t understand, Mike. My dad really loves you. He thinks you like spending time with him. How do you think he’d feel if I called and told him you didn’t want to come for a visit? That you had better things to do and wanted me to make the trip by myself?”