The Way to Yesterday. Sharon Sala
long legs against the other side of the window frame, he laid the baby down in his lap. When she stretched and then began kicking him in the stomach, he laughed. It occurred to him as he watched Mary busying herself at the sink that he was quite possibly the luckiest man alive. He thought back to yesterday—to all the turmoil that had been in their lives and how close he’d come to killing himself and Hope. If Mary hadn’t thrown herself on the hood of the car, he wouldn’t have stopped, and if he hadn’t stopped, he would have backed right into the speeding driver and the police cruiser that was in pursuit. As it was, two men had died horrible deaths, and they’d been spared.
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 fix 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