Where Yesterday Lives (13 page)

“Fine.”

“And don’t worry about what happened at church today I’ll be all right. Grieving is a private matter for me, something between God and me. I don’t need a priest hugging me and telling me everything will be okay.”

Megan nodded, and the two went inside. The cleaning started in the kitchen.

“I think Ellen’s right,” Megan said thoughtfully as she worked alongside her mother. Ellen and Jane had both left the Catholic church years earlier and attended small, nondenominational Christian churches in their separate communities. “Ellen says the Catholic church isn’t concerned with people’s private lives and that—”

“That’s her opinion,” her mom cut in, making it clear to Megan that she did not want to talk about the ways in which the Catholic church, according to Ellen, might be lacking. Megan knew her mother had participated in very few religious discussions since Ellen and Jane had abandoned their Catholic upbringing. Still, she’d always made it clear she accepted their decisions and believed there were good things about the churches they attended.

Mom also made it clear that she was aware that St. Francis was not a perfect church, but that did not change her opinion of the Catholic church as a whole. Besides, she had been Catholic as long as she could remember and she would be Catholic until the day she died. Regardless of what anyone thought.

“But, Mom, don’t you think that was cold? It’s like no one even knew Dad existed at that church. Even after twenty years.”

“Your father loved being Catholic. He understood that the priest at St. Francis is a busy man. Now I think that should be the end of the conversation.”

Megan shrugged. “At least at Ellen’s church everyone cares about each other. When someone dies they pull together and—”

“Megan, that’s enough. Now check the calendar and tell me what time the girls’ flights are coming in.”

Megan stared at her mother. All their lives she had refused to talk about controversial matters. Whenever the discussion made her mom uncomfortable she changed the subject, as she had just done. Megan let it go and checked the calendar.

“Ellen’s in at 1:30, Jane’s in at 1:50. I need to leave here no later than eight-thirty.”

“Well,” she wiped her hands on a towel and rubbed her eyes. “I hope the girls won’t bicker this week. The rest of you either. Your father would have wanted everyone to get along.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Mom, don’t even say such a thing. Of
course
everyone will get along. We haven’t been together since the reunion two years ago. Everyone will have a lot of catching up to do. Besides, we have Dad’s funeral to think about. You don’t think planning a funeral is going to cause us all to start fighting with each other, do you?”

“It could.”

“Mooooom. Please. We’re adults, after all.”

“Honey, you don’t know your sisters as well as I do. I’m just going to say a special prayer that Ellen and Jane get along. I’m worried about them the most. It’s important to me.”

“If you think it’s necessary.”

Her mother sighed. “You know, sweetheart, you missed a lot all those years you dated Mohammed. Sometimes I think they created a vacuum in your life.”

“Meaning what?” Megan knew she sounded defensive.

“Meaning you have a tendency to see your brother and sisters the way they were when they were all very young. Things have changed since then, Megan.”

Megan watched her mother as she continued scrubbing the kitchen sink. She felt tears forming in her eyes. “We still love each other, Mom.”

“I know, dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say you don’t love
each other.” She was quiet a moment. “I hope you have time to really help each other this week, maybe cry together. I think that would be good.”

They heard Aaron lumbering down the hallway toward the kitchen. Megan swiped at an errant tear and sniffed loudly, composing herself. “Mom, you think Aaron would want to go to the airport with me?”

Diane picked up a wet pan and began drying it. “Well, dear, probably not. He hasn’t said much since Friday and I don’t think he’d be very good company.”

Aaron walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed an apple. He looked tan and freshly showered, and Megan wondered what he was thinking, how he was handling their father’s death.

“What’d you say?” he mumbled.

“Hello, dear.”

Megan glanced at her mother. She always made an effort to sound cheerful when she talked to Aaron, almost as if she was afraid to make him angry.

“Megan wanted to know if you’d like to go to the airport with her.”

Aaron grunted, rubbed his apple on his jeans, and left the room.

“Would that be yes or no, Aaron?” Megan called after him.

“I said no!” Aaron’s voice boomed through the house from his back bedroom.

“He’s going to be great company this week,” Megan mumbled.

Sometimes she wondered if Aaron was still angry with her for dating Mohammed. But how was she to know he was a drug dealer? It wasn’t until they’d been together a while that she found that out. And by then it was too late to leave him ….

Once Aaron had pulled her aside and snarled at her, “That idiot is worse than the slime from a septic tank. And you’re nothing but a scumbag for dating him, Megan. Don’t give out your last name. I wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re related.”

She had long since forgiven him for his harsh words. She realized that essentially her brother had been right. Dating Mohammed had been a crazy thing to do. But she couldn’t help but wonder if Aaron still held a low opinion of her for those wasted years.

She looked at her mother. “I’ll assume he doesn’t want to go-.”

“Now, Megan,” her mom pleaded. “Don’t be sarcastic. He’s going through a hard time right now, like all of us. Try and understand.”

“Oh yes, I know the story. Aaron’s had such a hard life and so on and so forth. You’d think he was raised in an orphanage the way people talk about him sometimes. ‘Poor Aaron. Raised in the same house as all those girls.’ I guess they don’t know that he was the only one who had his own room and the only one who went golfing on Saturdays with Dad while the girls stayed home and did the housework.”

“Megan, dear. Be nice.”

“I will,” she said sweetly, brushing a single lock of hair off her damp forehead. “Don’t worry. We wouldn’t want to make Aaron angry, now would we?”

Aaron always blamed his temper on the fact that he was raised with four sisters, as if that alone was enough to drive someone insane. Megan clenched her teeth, not wanting to let her frustration with Aaron spill over onto her mother. “I’m sorry.” She closed the dishwasher and pushed a button to start the cleaning cycle. “I’ll try to be nice.”

“Thank you, Megan. It means a lot to me. I really don’t
think I can make it if you children don’t get along this week.”

Megan took out the broom and tilted her head thoughtfully as she swept the kitchen floor. After all these years their mother still referred to them as children. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was eight o’clock.

The front door opened, and they heard Amy’s voice.

“Hi.” Amy rounded the corner, her husband, Frank, by her side. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she hadn’t slept. “We’re here.”

Frank sat down immediately and began thumbing through a computer magazine. Amy remained in the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and stared at her mother and sister working together.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Their mother smiled warmly at her youngest daughter. Amy had always been quieter than the other Barretts. Family theory had it that since her older sisters were so busy talking, she never had a chance to say anything. But Megan didn’t buy that. She was convinced Amy didn’t want to talk about her life. She was a private person. When she finished her child development courses at North Central in 1992, she’d married a computer wizard. They were a reserved couple who preferred to spend their time alone. Megan considered her sister. None of them really knew or understood Amy—and that seemed to be fine with her.

The one member of the Barrett family who seemed to understand Amy perfectly was their mother. According to Mom, Amy was much like she had been at the same age. Amy was the only Barrett daughter with their mother’s jet black hair and green eyes. Megan smiled. The similarities did not stop there.

Mom had always admitted she desired little in life except to
be John Barrett’s wife and the mother of his children. She did most of the cooking and cleaning, even after taking a full-time job at the telephone company. She never complained. In her opinion a woman should take care of the home, regardless of her busy schedule.

Of all her daughters, only Amy was the kind of wife their mom had been as a young married woman. She met her husband’s needs much the way Mom had always met Dad’s needs, right up until his death. Amy would never cause a conflict, and for that reason their mother was especially proud of her youngest daughter. Amy had been a simple child and now, though she was married and working at a local day care, Megan saw her as a simple woman.

“There’s a load of laundry in the dryer if you wouldn’t mind folding it,” Mom said, hugging Amy close.

Amy nodded and did as she was told.

“Want to come to the airport?” Megan put the broom away and helped Amy carry the laundry into the living room where they dumped it on an oversized chair.

“No. You guys don’t need me.”

Megan looked at her younger sister strangely. “What do you mean we don’t need you? We’re all in this together. He was your dad, too.”

“I know. I just mean they’ll probably feel more like talking if I’m not around.”

Megan’s eyebrows came together in a puzzled frown and she glanced at Amy’s husband. “I’m glad you understand her, Frank. I sure don’t.”

For several minutes she helped fold laundry, making small talk with Amy and Frank. Then she picked up her purse and kissed her mother on the cheek.

“Bye.” She studied her mother’s face, then added softly,
“Why don’t you get some rest, Mom? We’ll probably be up late tonight.”

Her mother nodded absently She folded the kitchen towel, set it on the counter, and looked up. Megan saw the tears in her eyes.

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone, isn’t it?”

“I know.” Megan felt tears of her own. “Sometimes I wonder how we can all be a family without him.”

Her mother sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “I keep thinking I’ve got to stop crying. I won’t be able to get through the week if I don’t get a grip.”

“No, that’s not true. You go ahead and cry” Megan put an arm around her mother. “You were married to him forever. You can cry for a year if you want.”

Her mother uttered a short laugh, and Megan hugged her tight.

“It’s so good to have you back, Megan,” Mom whispered into Megan’s hair. “My sweet, sweet girl. There were times when you were dating Mohammed …” Her voice trailed off, choked by deep gratefulness. “Thank God he brought you back.”

“I know.” Megan sobbed softly and allowed herself to be hugged like a little girl. “I’m glad Daddy lived long enough to see me come to my senses.”

“He prayed for you every day.” Her mother pulled back and studied Megan’s eyes. “We got through that time, and if we all pull together we’ll get through this, too.”

Megan nodded, tears still streaming down her face. Wracked by the ache in her heart, she prayed her mother was right.

T
raffic at Detroit Metropolitan Airport did not hold to a specific rush hour. Regardless of the time of day, bumper-to-bumper cars snarled and knotted around the airport’s massive loop causing delays for weekend and midweek travelers alike. Megan Barrett fought for position amidst hundreds of motorists and parked her compact car not far from the terminal where her sisters would be arriving.

It was ninety-two degrees and the humidity hovered at just above 80 percent, trapping the city’s pollution so that the skyscrapers pushed their way through a murky brown layer of smog. Megan glanced at her watch and picked up her step. It was nearly one-thirty; Ellen’s plane would be landing any time now.

The jet was gradually descending, and Ellen peered out the window, scanning the aerial view of the city. The air around the plane had become thick and dirty, and she wondered how she had ever enjoyed living in Detroit. At least in Miami breezes off the ocean kept the city air relatively clean.

She lifted her gaze through the hazy sky toward upper Michigan. Interstate 75 made an almost direct route from Detroit to Petoskey, north up the center of the state. It took between four and five hours to reach Petoskey from Detroit, but as long as it wasn’t snowing, the Barretts had never minded the drive. The countryside was quietly rugged with deep green pastures, towering Ponderosa pines, and shimmering picturesque lakes.

Years earlier when her family had made the drive, her father would comment on the lush groves of pine trees or the endless sea of wild grass or the glassy lakes along the way His favorite part of the drive was just before they reached home, as Highway 31 curved along Lake Michigan and dipped down along the water for a breathtaking view of Little Traverse Bay and the Petoskey shoreline.

“Behold,” he would say, sweeping his arm grandly across his body. “The beautiful bay.”

The pilot lowered the landing gear and Ellen put her seat in an upright position. She had flown into this airport a dozen times, and each time her father had been waiting when she got off the plane. Even once when she flew for business and had access to a rental car, her father insisted on meeting her.

“If a father can’t meet his daughter at the airport, then things have gotten pretty sad,” he’d say with a smile.

“I don’t know, Dad, it’s a long drive.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ellen. It’s not a problem. I enjoy it.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing with all her heart that he could be there now, at the end of the ramp, peering over the heads of strangers as he searched for her face. Just one more time.

The three-hour flight from Phoenix to Detroit was relatively easy for Jane, despite the fact that she had the children with her. Troy had a sales convention in Los Angeles and would join her Friday morning, the day before the funeral. Jane was used to Troy’s traveling and she never even considered asking him to cancel the convention and spend the week with her in Petoskey. She and her siblings would have to choose a casket, plan the service, and help their mother survive until the funeral. Troy would have only been in the way.