The Way to Yesterday (5 page)

It was still difficult for him to accept that his mother had been so mean to
Mary. What was even worse was that Mary had been afraid to tell him. He tickled
the little roll of fat under Hope's baby chin and then looked up at his wife.

“Mary?"

The tremor in Daniel's voice made Mary turn abruptly, thinking something was
wrong with Hope. But the baby was momentarily pacified by the sunlight coming
through the trees outside the window.

'What?"

'I love you."

Emotion hit her like a fist to the gut.

'Oh, Daniel...I love you, too."

“You have nothing to worry about. Do you understand”

Mary sighed, unaware that her shoulders slumped slightly in relief. But Daniel
saw it and knew that his decision to stay home today as a buffer between his
mother and his wife had been wise.

'Yes, I understand," Mary said, then lifted Hope's bottle out of the
water and dried it off before testing a few drops on her wrist. "It's ready,"
she said, and brought it to him.

Daniel lifted his mouth for a kiss, which she happily supplied, then groaned
softly when he refused to relinquish the connection.

She knew what he wanted and the thought of lying beneath his beautiful hard
body made her ache. But with their unexpected houseguests just down the hall,
what they both wanted was definitely not going to happen. Finally, it was Mary
who pulled back.

'Daniel... we can't," she whispered. "Your parents..."

He frowned as he took the bottle and poked it into Hope's eager little
mouth.

'I know. I know," he muttered. "But this won't be forever and when
they're gone..."

She hugged the thought to herself as she turned back to the task at hand,
which would be making breakfast.

'What sounds good this morning?" she asked. "You," Daniel
muttered. "But I'll settle for bacon and eggs."

She grinned and combed her fingers through his hair in a gentle, loving
manner.

'And biscuits?"

He rolled his eyes in pretend passion. "Oh yeah." Then he added.
"Better double the recipe. They're Dad's favorite, too."

'What about your mother?" she asked. "If she doesn't care for them
I can make her some-"

He frowned at the nervousness once again in her voice.

'Mary Faith, you do not worry about what my mother likes or dislikes again,
do you hear me?"

'Yes, but-"

No buts, sweetheart. She will be thankful for whatever we serve and you will
not suffer her disdain or criticisms again."

Mary was too moved to answer. Instead, she took a large bowl from the
cabinet and began assembling the ingredients for the biscuits. By the time Mike
and Phyllis were up, she was dishing up the scrambled eggs and taking the
biscuits from the oven. "Man, oh, man," Mike said, as he entered the
kitchen. "A guy could get used to waking up to food like this."

Daniel eyed the slight shock in his mother's eyes and took no small amount
of satisfaction in answering.

'I already have," Daniel said. "Mary is a super cook." Then
he handed the baby to his mother.

'Morning, Mom. Here, say hi to your granddaughter and see if you can get a
burp out of her while I help Mary get the food to the table."

Phyllis was torn between jealousy and devotion. It had been years since
she'd gone out of her way to f
i
x breakfasts like
this, and the comment Mike had made went straight to her conscience. But the
smiles of delight on her granddaughter's face rechanneled her focus. She
settled the baby on her shoulder and began patting her back as she took a seat
at the breakfast table. As she sat, she watched and she listened, and not for
the first time since their arrival, began to wonder if she could have been
wrong.

''Mary.”

Mary jumped at the sound of her mother-in-law's voice, then turned abruptly,
almost dropping the load of clean bath towels she was carrying.

'Yes?"

Phyllis sighed. The anxious expression in Mary's dark eyes was nobody's
fault but her own. She reached for the towels.

'Let me help do that."

'No, please," Mary said. "It's just a load of laundry. I can do
it."

Phyllis frowned. "I'm well aware that you're capable, girl, but it's
your third load, and frankly, I

haven't seen you sit down since breakfast. Besides that, isn't your hand
still sore?"

Mary glanced down at the bandage on the finger she'd cut yesterday.

'Well, yes, but it's healing."

Phyllis took the clean laundry from Mary's arms. "We'll fold them on
your bed, okay?" Reluctantly, Mary followed her into the bedroom.

When Phyllis dumped the towels on the bed, Mary took a deep breath and moved
to the opposite side. For a few minutes, they worked in silence. It wasn't
until the last washcloth had been folded that Phyllis laid it aside and then
sat.

'Mary, there's something I want to say to you." Mary flinched. The last
thing she wanted was another confrontation, but with Daniel and his father gone
to the insurance agency, she was all alone. She gathered up the stack of clean
towels and carried them into the bathroom, then put them away. When she turned
around, Phyllis was standing there with the hand towels and washcloths.

'Thank you," Mary said, and put them into the linen cabinet beside the
towels.

Phyllis nodded. "You're very neat," she said, eyeing the even rows
of linens inside the cabinet.

'Thank you. I suppose it comes from living in foster homes."

'What do you mean?"

Mary shrugged. "Well, I never knew how long I would be allowed to stay,
so always having my things neatly together made it simpler to pack when social
services moved me."

Phyllis frowned. "You never knew your parents, did you?"

'I remember my mother," Mary said. "At least, I think I do. But I
was so small when they took me away." Then she turned, looking Phyllis
square in the face. "She didn't give me away, you know. She died of
cancer."

Phyllis sighed. "You've had a difficult life, haven't you?"

'From your standpoint, I suppose so. But I never knew anything else."
Then her expression softened.

'But now I have Daniel and Hope. They... and you and Mike... are my family
now." Then she took a deep breath, needing to get the rest of this said
before she chickened out. "I know you and Mike wanted better for Daniel.
But I love him. So much. And I

would never do anything to hurt him or make trouble for him. He and Hope are
my life."

Phyllis felt like a heel. "Yes, I can see that," she said.
"I've not been fair to you and I'm sorry." Then she turned away and
walked back into the bedroom. Mary hurried after her. "It's okay,"
she said. "Really."

Phyllis turned. "No, dear, it's not okay. I've been horrible to you,
but given time, I will make it right.

I hope you forgive me?"

Mary's eyes welled. "Oh, Phyllis, thank you," she cried, and
impulsively threw her arms around her mother-in-law's neck.

Phyllis hesitated briefly, then returned the embrace.

'It's me who should be thanking you," she said softly. "You have a
generous heart, my dear. Daniel and Hope are lucky to have you."

Lucky to have you... lucky to have you... lucky...

A car horn blared, followed by a burst of angry curses and then the
squealing of tires on pavement. Mary jerked.

Reality and fantasy were beginning to separate within her mind and all she
could think was not yet. Not yet. But no matter how desperately she tried, she
couldn't hold on to the dream. Her head was spinning, her legs weak at the
knees.

'Daniel," she moaned.

But there was no answer, only the smell of old wood and dust. In that
instant, she knew it was gone.

She opened her eyes.

The antique shop. She was still standing in the antique shop and Mike and
Phyllis O'Rourke hadn't spoken to her since the day of the funeral six years
ago.

In that moment, what had been left of her spirit died, too. There was
nothing in her life but an emptiness that all the jobs and all the busy work
would never fill. The only people who'd ever loved her were dead and she wanted
to be with them.

With a shuddering sob, she stared down at the ring on her finger. The
engraving -I promise you forever-was a joke. Hating herself and life in
general, she tore it off and flung it back into the case. There was no such
thing as forever.

'No more," she muttered. "I can't do this ...I don't want to do
this. Not anymore."

She turned, only to find the old man staring at her from the end of the
counter.

'I don't want the ring. I put it back," she muttered, and pointed in
the general direction of the case. "I have to go." But her feet
wouldn't move. She seemed helpless beneath the compassion of his gaze. Her eyes
filled with tears. "You don't understand. They're dead, you know. They're
all dead but me." Then her composure broke and she started to cry.

Love doesn't die.

Mary stared. Although she'd heard the words, his lips had not moved. When he
started toward her, shuffling his tiny little feet on the dusty, planked floor,
she wanted to run, but he was blocking her only exit.

'Don't," she muttered, although she didn't quite know why she said it.

He'd made no move to harm her and had yet to say a word. When he reached in
his pocket, she caught herself holding her breath. But when he pulled out a
neatly ironed linen handkerchief and laid it in her hands, she felt shame that
she'd feared him. "Oh God," she moaned, and bent her head. At the
same time, she felt a hand at the crown of her head and then the old man was
stroking her hair, as he might have a child. Mary shuddered as she lifted the
handkerchief to her face and wiped away tears. What had she been thinking,
behaving this way in front of a stranger? When she looked up, he was gone. The
only proof she had that he'd been there was the handkerchief she was holding.

'Lord," she muttered. "I probably embarrassed him horribly."

She laid the handkerchief aside and started to weave her way through the
narrow aisle, anxious to be away from this place. She'd been crazy to come in
here to begin with. All it had done was remind her of what she'd lost. She
wouldn't let herself think about why the dream had been different this time,
because it didn't really matter. Her reality was a living hell and it hadn't
changed.

The front door was open and she headed for it like a moth to a flame.

Out.

She needed out.

Away from the memories. Away from the pain.

She fixed her gaze on the rug of sunlight spreading across the threshold and
told herself that if she didn't breathe until she passed it, all the pain would
go away. It wasn't the first time she'd played such a mind game with herself,
but she was brought up short from escaping when a curly-haired little girl
burst into the building.

'Mommy! Mommy!"

The brutality of the moment stopped Mary short. In her mind, it was but
another bit of proof as to how perfectly cruel life could be. If Hope hadn't
died

'Mommy! Where are you?" the little girl cried. Mary swallowed past the
knot of misery in her throat and stepped out of the shadows and into the light.
No matter how much it would hurt her, the child was obviously lost and afraid.
But the words never came out of her mouth. When the child saw her move, the
frown on her face turned to joy.

'Mommy! Mommy! We're ready to go! Daddy's going to buy us all ice cream and
I want
banilla
with
starberry
sprinkles."

Shock spread across Mary's face as she stared at the approaching child in
disbelief. Then over the child's shoulder, she saw the sunlight on the floor
suddenly shrink as a man appeared in the doorway. At first, she saw nothing but
a big, dark silhouette, but then he spoke and the sound of his voice grabbed
her heart.

'There you are," he chided, and took the little girl by the hand before
she could go any farther. Mary struggled to take a breath. Damn you, God... you
took my reasons for living and left me behind. Now you want my sanity, too?

The man looked up at Mary and grinned. "Hey, honey. Did you find
anything you can't live without?"

Mary moaned and took a short step backward. Why was this happening? That had
always been a running joke between herself and Daniel when they used to go
antiquing, but this wasn't funny. Then the man moved past the doorway and
further into the store. When Mary saw his face she started to shake. Black
hair, blue eyes and that square jaw with a slight dimple in his chin. Daniel?
Oh God... Daniel.

'Mary... darling... are you all right? You look a little pale."

He reached for her, steadying her with a hand to the shoulder, then he
cupped her face.

She looked up in horror. She could feel his fingers on her skin. This wasn't
possible. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. PTSD. That's what it was.
Post-traumatic stress disorder, brought on by her foray into antiques. When she
opened her eyes, he would be gone. All of this would be gone. But when she
looked he was still there, leaning closer now, and she could feel his breath on
her face.

'Daniel?"

He smiled. "Definitely not the Easter Bunny," he teased.

She fainted in his arms.

'Mary ... darling ... can you hear me?" Mary moaned. "Make it go
away," she muttered. Daniel frowned. "Make what go away?"

"The dreams. Make them all go away." He shook his head slightly,
ignoring her rambling remarks as he continued to dab her forehead and cheeks
with a dampened handkerchief. Before he could answer her, Hope slid between
them and put a hand on her father's arm.

'Daddy, what's the matter with Mommy?"

'I think maybe she just got too hot."

His daughter's voice trembled slightly. "Is she going to die?"

'No, baby ...oh no! Mommy's fine. See! She's waking up right now."