Where Yesterday Lives (21 page)

“Okay then. Unless someone objects, I think maybe Ellen should read that at the service.”

“What if I want to read a Bible verse?” Jane’s eyes were hard, her tone defensive. “Why should Megan and Ellen be the only ones to read something?”

“Well then, pick something,” Mom said pleasantly. “Everyone can read a verse as far as I’m concerned.”

“No, that’s all right.” Jane looked away, the picture of persecuted martyrdom. “It’s probably better this way. Ellen and Megan are better in front of people. Dad would have wanted them to read.”

“Well,” Megan stood up and reached for her purse. She looked and sounded disgusted with Jane’s attitude. “I’ve had about enough for a while.” She turned matter-of-factly toward Jane. “You said you wanted to go back for lunch. It’s eleven-thirty. I’m ready if you are.”

“Oh.” There was obvious hurt in their mother’s voice. “I thought you could all have lunch here. We’re finally together and getting something done. Why don’t you stay and I’ll fix something for everyone?”

“We could,” Jane said as she collected her purse and headed for the front door. “But I need to get back and see the kids.”

Ellen was torn. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Jane than was absolutely necessary, but she agreed with Megan that they needed a break from the discussion. She hoped their mother would not be too disappointed.

She shrugged. “I guess I’ll go with Megan and Jane. Is that all right, Mom?”

Her mother’s crestfallen expression belied her words. “I suppose. I just thought we could spend the entire day together and continue the plans while we ate.”

“We’ll be back right after lunch. And don’t worry—” Jane crossed the room and hugged her mother—“we’re working things out, and I think it’s going very well so far. Dad would approve.”

Ellen stared in stunned confusion. How could Jane be so thoughtless one minute and so gentle the next?

“Think we’ll be done before dinner?” Jane asked as she headed for the front door.

“I hope so. This is exhausting.” Mom stood up and stretched. “Maybe I’ll take a nap while you’re gone.”

“Good idea,” Jane hugged her again.

“Be nice …” Their mother’s voice broke. “Please, Jane.”

Jane pulled back, studied Mom’s face, then nodded slowly. “I will. I’m sorry.”

Quick tears stung Ellen’s eyes.
Lord
, I
will never understand Jane. Not for as long as I live
. A sad desperation filled Ellen as she followed her sisters to the door.

After the three sisters were gone, Diane Barrett gave a small sigh. Oh,
John, what’s happened to our family?
She wasn’t sure how much more of this tension she could take.

Amy and Frank rose from the sofa and moved toward the front door.

“Frank and I are gonna get some hamburgers. You want one, Mom? Aaron?”

Diane smiled at her youngest daughter. “Sure, honey, thanks. Let me give you some money.”

“Aaron?” Amy looked at him expectantly

“A double. No onions.” Aaron stood up and lumbered into the den where he flipped on the television. The others could hear what sounded like a golf competition underway. Aaron watched for a moment and then turned the channel.

“Talkative, huh?” Frank broke the silence Aaron had left in his wake. Frank managed a plastic smile from behind his thick, round glasses. There were beads of perspiration forming along his thinning hairline, and he looked especially tense.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” Diane patted his shoulder as he and Amy prepared to leave. “Don’t take it personally.”

Frank shrugged and shook his head quickly. “He’s very immature. That’s not something I take personally.”

Diane bid them good-bye, thankful that Frank was an intelligent man. He was thirty-eight and had come into Amy’s life at a time when she was trying to decide what to do with her future. She was a pretty girl with a fuller figure than her sisters. She hated the way men ogled her chest whenever she went out. Before meeting Frank she had confided in Diane that she was seriously thinking about becoming a nun.

In response her father had taught her how to use his computer to tap into electronic bulletin boards. After that, Amy spent hours chatting with people she could neither see nor hear. Until then, she had never found a social niche that suited her. But when her fingers made contact with the computer keyboard, she entered a world that seemed custom-made for her alone. It was a world in which she had thrived.

A few months later she began having nightly computerized conversations with a man whose screen name was “Franco.” She was going by the name “Aimless,” something her friends had called her in high school. After exchanging photographs in the mail, they finally agreed to meet one afternoon at a busy restaurant. Six weeks later they were engaged, and Frank quickly found his place in their family. He and John could talk for hours about computers. John had even said that, in Frank, he saw himself as a young man: intelligent, idealistic, and replete with limitless energy.

Frank ran his own business assembling computers and selling them through mail-order advertisements. He easily earned enough money to keep Amy quite comfortable. After they were married Amy continued working at the private day care, but they certainly did not need her income to make ends meet.

Frank was slightly plump and more than a little balding. He had almost white blond hair and was only an inch taller than Amy From their first meeting, Frank doted on Amy and gave her the security she craved. Diane thought they were a perfect match.

She watched them now as they drove away, and suddenly she felt exhausted. The sadness was so tiring, so gut wrenching. She wondered if she would ever wake up feeling refreshed and free of the burden John’s death had placed on her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her neck. Then she padded slowly down the hallway, past the spot where John had died, back to the bedroom they’d shared for twenty-one years. The pillows still smelled like him.

In two minutes she had cried herself to sleep.

B
ack at Megan’s apartment, the sisters found Aunt Mary struggling with the children. Kyle had refused his bottle and spit up his applesauce on Megan’s living room floor. Kala and Koley had fought all morning over what toy belonged to whom, who had played with it longest, and whose turn it was now

Aunt Mary looked on the verge of a breakdown.

Jane stepped into the middle of the chaos and calmly directed her children. In minutes there was peace again.

“Kyle, get your pacifier,” she told the young boy She walked to the spot where his playpen was set up. “Now lie down on your blanket and close your eyes.” She knelt beside him, stroked his forehead, and hummed softly The child was asleep almost instantly

Next she looked at Koley “Were you mean to your sister?” she asked softly Megan disappeared to her room and Ellen found a chair off in the distance where she could watch Jane interact with her children.

“Yes, Mommy.” Koley’s deep brown eyes were remorseful, full of shame.

“Was that the right thing to do?”

Ellen wondered if Jane caught the irony in her statement. After all, she hadn’t exactly been kind to
her
sister that morning.

“No, Mommy.”

“Well, I want you to go give Kala a kiss and tell her you’re sorry.”

The little boy did as he was told, hugging his small sister so tight she could barely breathe.

“That’s fine.” Jane motioned her children closer and kissed each of them on their foreheads. “I love you both very much and I know you’re going to behave better for Aunt Mary this afternoon while we’re gone. But right now I want you to find a spot on the floor and lie down. It’s nap time.”

Ellen watched, amazed. Jane made parenting look easy and Ellen wondered whether she would be so patient if she had children.

Once the children were settled Jane fixed herself a sandwich. Megan joined Ellen at the small table, and Aunt Mary rested on the couch, exhausted from the morning.

“Are you sure you can stay and watch them this afternoon?” Jane asked. “If it’s too much I can probably take them to Mom’s.”

“No, no—” Aunt Mary straightened herself and tried to smile—“Really, it’s all right. I think after they have a good nap everything’ll be just fine. In fact, I think I’ll go out and pick up something to eat before you leave.”

Jane nodded. “Don’t rush. And thanks again, Aunt Mary I’m sorry they were such a handful.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You all have a lot to work out and this is the least I can do for your mother.”

Aunt Mary and the girls’ mother were very close; they had been for as long as anyone could remember. Like Ellen and Jane, they were only two years apart, but somehow through the years they had forged a camaraderie that superseded petty resentments.

When Aunt Mary was gone, Ellen sighed. “She really seems frazzled. Too bad we can’t just take the kids back to Mom’s with us. I think she could use a break.”

Jane lowered her sandwich and stared at Ellen, her eyes glittering.

“If you’re trying to say that my children aren’t well behaved, then maybe you’d better keep your comments to yourself.”

Ellen threw her hands in the air in mock surrender. She had
tried unsuccessfully to ignore Jane’s comments all morning, but this was it. She’d reached her limit.

“Jane, no matter what I say you take it wrong.”

“Well, then, here’s some advice, Ellen. When it comes to other people’s kids, keep your mouth shut.” She snorted. “Of course, you’ve never been able to keep your mouth shut about anything.”

Ellen stood, her body shaking with anger, and stared down at her sister. “What
is
with you, Jane?” She realized she was shouting, but she didn’t care. Across the room one of the sleeping children stirred. She struggled to regain her composure. “Exactly why is it you hate me?”

“Be
quiet
, Ellen,” Jane hissed. “You’ll wake the kids.”

“Oh, now it’s the
kids
again.
Listen
to yourself, Jane. Listen to how you talk to me whenever the kids are involved.” Ellen lowered her voice, but she couldn’t hide her rage. She was losing control. “You treat me like I’m some inept, brainless woman who has no idea what to say or do around someone younger than eighteen. Well, get off your high horse, sister
dear
. You’re a wonderful mother, but just because I don’t have children doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about them.”

Jane raised her eyebrows sarcastically and picked up her sandwich. “If you knew anything about children, you wouldn’t have chosen a career over motherhood. But that’s just my opinion.”

The words were a slap that took Ellen’s breath away. Her eyes filled with tears; her face twisted in pain. “Grow up, Jane! You’re so caught up in your own little bitter world that you don’t even know what you’re saying—” Ellen broke off, and two tears trickled down her face.

Megan dropped her head in her hands and sighed. “You guys, this is so stupid. You know you love each other, so why don’t you just apologize and get over it.”

Ellen spun to face her. “Megan, this has nothing to do with me. I’ve done everything humanly possible to get along with
Jane, but she’s determined to make life miserable for me. Am I the only one who sees it?”

“I don’t know.” Megan stood up abruptly. “You guys’ll have to work it out on your own. I’m not taking sides.” With that she headed for her bedroom.

“I’m leaving,” Ellen announced.

“We’ll leave together. In about thirty minutes.”

Ellen looked at Megan. “No. We won’t. I’m walking back to Mom and Dad’s.” Ellen swung her purse over her shoulder and marched toward the front door. The Barrett home was two miles away, but Ellen would have walked ten rather than spend another minute in the same room with Jane. She stared at Megan before she left. “I’m not mad at you. I just can’t take her abuse anymore.”

Jane shrugged, took a bite of her sandwich, and watched unsympathetically as Ellen walked to the door. “Get over it,” she muttered. And then to Megan, “She’s always overreacting about something.”

It was a thick, humid afternoon and Leslie Maple wandered outside her Pennsylvania house toward her mailbox. She sorted through a stack of items as she made her way back in. Credit-card offers, advertising, an insurance statement. Then she saw it. A hand-addressed, pale blue envelope postmarked Petoskey Michigan. The town where she’d grown up. She set down the other mail and carefully ripped open the blue paper. Inside was a brief note and a newspaper article.

“Thought you’d like to know about this,” the note read. “Take care and drop me a line sometime.” It was from Carolann Hanson. Carolann had graduated from Petoskey the same year as Leslie. And Ellen Barrett. Leslie smiled at the thought of her best friend from high school. When Ellen moved to Ann Arbor, Leslie had been devastated, but it had helped that she and Carolann
began attending Bible studies together and meeting once a week for prayer. Leslie and Carolann still exchanged Christmas cards and remembered to pray for each other’s families.

Leslie opened the clipping and saw that it was an obituary Her heart sank and tears flooded her eyes. John Barrett, Ellen’s father, had suffered a heart attack and died. Leslie remembered Mr. Barrett vividly, his broad smile and the way he made Ellen’s friends feel so welcome in his home. She and Ellen’s other friends had loved Mr. Barrett and even called him Dad when they stopped by to visit. He was just that kind of parent.

She sighed and thought of Ellen, of how devastated she must be. Then as naturally as she lived and breathed, Leslie bowed her head and began to pray.

By the time everyone was back in place at the Barrett home it was one-thirty. Ellen sat in stony silence, not even looking at Jane. The anger between them was palpable, and the room was almost electrically charged with tension.

Their mother studied the faces before her, and sighed. “First, I think we need to take care of whatever happened between Ellen and Jane.”

“No problem here,” Jane said flatly.

Ellen stared at Jane.
Two could play that game
. She turned and smiled at their mother. “Everything’s fine.”