Searching for Yesterday (18 page)

“My arm is gone. Half of it, that is. I guess you already know that.”

“I know, Betts, and I'm really sorry.” I got that much out and then found I couldn't go on. There was silence for a bit — while I worked on keeping it together and Betts, it seemed, worked on staying awake. She kept looking like she'd fallen asleep, but then she'd force her eyes open and manage to focus.

“I thought I was dead,” she said suddenly, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

“When we went through the light and I saw that other car hurdling toward me, and I knew it was going to hit me ...”

“But you're okay,” I managed. “Thank God!”

“I'm alive,” she said, “and I'm glad for that ... but my arm is gone — did I already tell you that? Oh, you knew didn't you, because you were here that night. My mom told me ... you and your dad came.”

Just then a nurse came into the room to check Betts's blood pressure and temperature. While that was going on, Betts told me again about the red Jell-O.

“You're repeating yourself,” I teased. At the same time, I raised an eyebrow questioningly to the nurse.

“She's on a lot of pain medication,” the nurse said, patting Betts's shoulder. “But there's no neurological damage, if you were wondering about that.”

As the nurse left the room, Betts's eyes slid closed and stayed that way for what seemed ten minutes. I was about to slip out of the room to let her rest when she spoke again.

“He wanted me to say
I
was driving ... did you know that?” She opened her eyes and looked at me. “Because he'd had a few drinks and he might lose his licence.”

“When did he ...?”

“Right there, before I lost consciousness. He was leaning over me, trying to get my seatbelt off so he could drag me across the driver's side, I guess. Me, smashed up, covered in blood and that's what he thought about — how he could stay out of trouble.”

I wondered if that was true, or if she'd dreamt or imagined it through the shock and horror of what had happened. It seemed impossible to me that anyone could sink that low, but I couldn't ask Betts anything, even if she'd been clearheaded. She'd already drifted again.

When I knew for sure she was asleep, I kissed her forehead and slipped out.

Pearl Norton moved through the room, quietly asking if she could get anyone coffee or tea, offering food from trays of sandwiches and assorted platters of vegetables and sweets and, every now and then, passing close enough to Annie to gently touch her cheek or arm.

We were at the Nortons' home, following the funeral for Gina Berkley. I was amazed at how many people had come to the funeral, and I couldn't help wondering if it was because they really remembered Gina, or because the strange circumstances of her death made them curious.

Annie had asked me to sit with her and the Norton family at the service. I'd felt terrible for her as the hymns were sung and eulogies were given and the minister talked about Gina and her life. But the worst was at the end, when the pallbearers went to the front of the church and carried the coffin down the aisle beside Annie and out into the waiting hearse. As I watched them go by
my heart broke for her, knowing that her mother's body was in that box and she could no longer hope that the day would come when her mother would show up and be back in her life.

Greg was there, a few rows behind us, and I thought of how he, too, had lost his mother a few years ago. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if I suddenly no longer had one of my parents.

There was no graveside service, of course, since it was winter and the ground was frozen. I was kind of relieved about that. The service at the church was emotional enough and I think going to the graveyard and seeing the coffin lowered into a hole would have been unbearable.

I was glad, after the funeral was over, that there wasn't the usual gathering downstairs, like there often is after a funeral. Pearl had insisted on having that in her home instead, though the ladies of the church had offered. It was quieter and more dignified, and it was mainly close friends who came by.

My parents came over, and so did Brandon and his wife, Jayzelle, who was very nice and hugged Annie and said how terribly sorry she was for her loss, even though she'd never met her before. Everyone was so kind. Greg and his dad, Dr. Taylor, came too, and some teachers and friends from school, but no one stayed long. Kayla did, though and when everyone else had left she surprised us by going to her car and bringing in some photo albums.

“I don't know if this is the right time or not, but I had copies made of all of the pictures I had of your mom. From when we were younger, mostly, but there are some of her while she was pregnant and a few of her with you, up until you were about four.” She didn't have to say that was when Lenny had come along — we knew.

“If you want, we can look through them now — you might have some questions. Or, if you'd rather, you can just put them away and I'll come by anytime you feel like taking a look.”

“I'd love to look at them now,” Annie said quickly, and the three of us sat together on the couch — Annie in the middle with the album on her lap. When she first opened it, she started to cry softly, but after a couple of minutes Kayla started talking, pointing to this picture or that, telling her the little stories behind them, and before long Annie was smiling and enjoying getting to know what her mother had been like when she was our age.

“What's she doing on the floor?” Annie asked, turning a page to find a shot of Gina on her hands and knees, peering underneath a bed.

“Oh, the search pictures. There are
lots
of these,” Kayla said with a laugh. “Your mother smoked back then, only she wasn't allowed to, so she was always hiding her cigarettes from her mother. But then when she wanted them, she'd forget where they were and she'd have to go on a mad hunt — tearing her room apart trying
to find them. And I was hardly ever without my 110 camera back then, so I had lots of chances to catch those moments on film.

“Oh, look here! See this one where she's standing on a chair feeling along the top of her wardrobe? Right after I snapped this picture the chair flipped sideways and she came
crashing
down — I don't know how she didn't break a leg or something. She did bang her head, though, and had a goose-egg to prove it. But — and I'll never forget this — she sat right up, grinned, and said, “found them.' And sure enough, she had those stupid old smokes in her hand. She never could beat that habit until she got pregnant with you. Then she quit without batting an eye.”

We enjoyed Kayla's stories and I thought how nice it must be for Annie to hear them. Her memories of her mother were limited to those of a fairly young child, so this was about the only way she was likely to get to know other things about her mother. Working with her mom's best friend meant she was going to hear a lot more about her over the months ahead, too, and I knew that was going to be a help and comfort to her.

Kayla left after giving Annie a long hug and telling her to call anytime she felt like talking. Then Annie and I tried to help Pearl clean up, but she wouldn't hear of it.

“You girls just relax,” she said. “This has been a hard time for Annie and I'm just so thankful we can be here for her.”

As we headed up to hang out in her room, I saw Annie's eyes fill with tears again, but I knew it was different, and that this whole experience had helped her to trust the Nortons just a little bit more. She might never feel totally secure, not after all she's been through, but I think she was a lot closer to feeling secure with their family than she ever had before.

“It was nice — really nice, to hear those stories about my mom,” Annie said, as she cleared a special place on her dresser for the photo album.

“She sounded like an awesome person,” I said. “And fun.”

“And forgetful,” Annie said with a smile. “Imagine forgetting where you hid something.”

“I've done that,” I admitted. “It taught me not to hide things because they could end up hidden from
me
too. Unless, you know, it's something really important. But in that case I'm not as likely to forget.”

My heart started to beat a little faster. “
What
?” Annie's eyes narrowed. “Shelby ... you've got that look on your face again.”

“What look?”

“The one you get when you've had an idea.”

“I kind of did,” I said. “But it's probably nothing.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I just thought about how your mom used to hide things and it struck me that she might have hid something to do with your father's identity.”

Annie stared at me. “Like what?”

“I don't know. Some memento from her time with him, or maybe a document or something.”

“Well, if she did, it's probably long gone. Lenny threw most of her stuff down the well, and there's not much left of any of it.”

“You're right. I shouldn't have even mentioned it. But then ...”

“What?”

“I was just thinking about how your mom kept a lot of things that were important to her in her jewellery box. Like your baby teeth and a lock of her father's hair and stuff.”

“Yeah, so? I've looked at everything in there. I think I'd have noticed if there was something about my father.”

“True, except ... the jewellery box is lined with that satiny material.”

“And?”

“Couldn't she have hidden something behind there? Like, lifted a piece of material, slipped something in, and then glued it closed again?”

Annie's eyes drifted across her room to the jewellery box. Her foster father had bought a special shelf for it after her mother's body was found, and it was there, sitting on a shimmering piece of red velvet.

“I guess it won't hurt to check,” she said. “As long as we don't have to ruin the lining.”

She brought the box over and laid it on the bed, then spread the velvet beside it. One by one, she lifted her mom's jewellery out, laying each piece on the cloth. Earrings, the locket, chains, broaches, a couple of inexpensive rings, and a few non-jewellery mementos like the teeth and hair — Annie handled everything in the same careful, loving way.

The lining was already loose in places, its glue having dried and become brittle. We pried gently until all of the edges had come away from the wooden box. I think we were both holding our breath when we lifted it out.

There was nothing underneath. Absolutely nothing. We even peered in carefully to see if there might have been something written there — even if it had faded over time — but there wasn't so much as a mark.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Annie said, forcing a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. I felt guilty that I'd raised her hopes for nothing.

“I'll put some white glue on the lining and put it back in place,” she said, going to her desk to get a bottle of Elmer's.

As she carefully made a bead around the lining and another thin one in the box itself to make sure there was enough to hold it, I idly picked up some jewellery pieces. I noticed that all of them were dainty and feminine in style — another clue to her personality and taste. One more little bit of information for Annie.

And of course, there was the locket. It said a lot about her mother that she kept her daughter's picture there, when most women would be wearing one of their boyfriend or husband.

I almost gasped as a thought hit me, but managed to hide it from Annie. I picked up the locket and pressed the little catch release, which made the cover open to reveal Annie's young, smiling face. It took a minute for me to figure out how the glass covering it came out. Then, with trembling fingers I carefully pried Annie's picture out.

My heart leapt into my throat and I could barely speak to tell Annie that underneath
her
picture was
another
smiling face — and it was almost certainly the face of her father.

He was younger, but the man in the frame was most definitely Brandon!

We talked it over and decided the best thing to do would be to discuss it with Kayla first. Annie called her and told her there was something important she needed to see her about.

Kayla pulled up to the house a little while later — probably thinking Annie had a question about Gina. We piled into the car and told her we had to talk to her somewhere private.

“How about the flower shop?”

“Sure,” Annie said. She looked really, really scared.

We got there and went into the back room. Annie took a deep breath.

“I'm pretty sure that your brother is my father,” she blurted.

Kayla stared at her like she'd spoken a foreign language.

“His picture was behind mine — in my mom's locket,” Annie went on. “Shelby found it.”

“Where is it?”

“Right here.” Annie passed it to her.

Kayla looked down, shook her head like she was clearing it, and then looked again. She slid down onto a nearby chair and lifted her head to stare at Annie. No one said anything for a few minutes.

“You know something,” Kayla said at last, “this makes sense. I always told Gina that she could
never
date my brother. I saw them kind of flirt a bit a few times and I was worried if they ever went out it would eventually ruin our friendship. And when I think about it now,
he
would be the
one
person she'd have felt she had to keep secret from me. Probably the only one — and it never occurred to me that it could be Brandon. But it was, and that's why she never told me.”

Annie said nothing. She looked kind of shaky, which made sense, considering all she'd been through in one day: her mother's funeral and finally learning her father's identity.