Where Yesterday Lives (3 page)

Ellen remained stiff, unwilling to be comforted. Mike had never known how to deal with the emotional moments in their marriage, and she didn’t want him practicing at a time like this. She refused to allow herself to break down. Her father was sick, but he was alive.

There would be time for tears later.

She pulled away. “I need to get inside and call.”

Mike followed lamely behind her, and as they entered the house he sat on the couch and buried himself in a magazine. As usual, he would let her take care of making the call. Ellen clenched her teeth, but she couldn’t exactly blame Mike. Her father, John Edward Barrett, was fifty-four that year and had undergone triple-bypass surgery the previous summer. Since then he had ignored doctors’ warnings and continued to smoke three packs of unfiltered Camels a day. He ate eggs and
buttered toast for breakfast, juicy beef hot dogs for lunch, and pizza for dinner. It was fairly certain the news would not be good.

Ellen kicked off her heels and picked up the cordless phone, collapsing in a cross-legged heap on the floor as she studied the message Mike had taken. As quickly as her fingers could move she punched in the numbers for Northern Michigan Hospital in Petoskey.

“John Barrett’s room, please.” She dug her elbows into her knees and rested her forehead in her free hand.

“Nurse’s station,” a woman announced.

“Yes, John Barrett’s room.”

“Who’s calling?”

“This is his daughter, Ellen. May I speak with him please?”

“Just a minute, ma’am. Let me get your mother.”

Ellen waited, praying against all odds that she was wrong, that the news would be good. Her father’s health was poor but he had never suffered a heart attack. There was a chance he might recover completely if he had made it to the hospital in time.

“Ellen?” Her mother’s voice was raspy and tired, and Ellen could tell she’d been crying. “Mother, is he okay?”

“No.” A single sob escaped from her mother and for a moment she was unable to continue. Ellen waited breathlessly.

“He didn’t make it, honey. I’m so sorry.”

Ellen could feel the floor drop away from beneath her. She refused to believe it. “No, Mom, that can’t be true. People live through heart attacks all the time. He was—”

“Not this time,” her mother cut in. “He died four hours ago. Ellen, he’s gone.”

“No! Mom, please! He…he can’t be gone.”

“I’m sorry, honey. He loved you so much. You know that.”

Ellen was silent as the truth coursed through her veins, searing her, weighing her down. Her father was dead.

“Ellen?”

“Mom—” her voice was barely a whisper—“what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to survive and we’re still going to be a family”

Ellen nodded and fought a wave of anxiety “Are you by yourself?”

“No, Megan and Aaron are here with me, and Amy’s on the way. I’ve called Jane. She’s coming out Sunday afternoon.”

“How are they handling it?”

“Not well. Especially Aaron. He hasn’t said a word since it happened.”

A thousand memories crowded out Ellen’s ability to speak, and she realized there was a lump in her throat. Her father was gone, and she hadn’t gotten to say good-bye. Certainly Aaron, her only brother, would be devastated. The others, too.
He’s in heaven. He’s still alive, just happier now
.

Ellen thought about the last time she’d talked with her father, only a few days earlier. He had sounded fine. There had been no warning that it was the last time she’d ever talk to him. She called him often, keeping him up-to-date on her latest assignments. He had always been interested in the little-known details and behind-the-scenes anecdotes that went into her reporting. Now he was gone, and Ellen wondered if she would suffocate from the shock.

“Are you okay, honey?”

Her mother’s strained question pulled her back. “Mom, what happened?”

“Well,” her mother drew a ragged breath. “He wasn’t feeling well when he woke up this morning, and he took a long nap in
his chair until about one o’clock. Then he got up and had something to eat. He was walking back to take a shower when he collapsed in the hallway.”

Ellen closed her eyes, picturing the familiar house, its aging dark brown carpet and narrow hallways.

“He didn’t have a chance. We lost him before the paramedics arrived.”

Ellen was quiet for a moment. “When do you want me home, Mom? When’s the funeral?”

“Oh, honey, I don’t know. I guess we’ll have the funeral next Saturday. That’s when your father’s sister can get here from California. I don’t know, it’s all happening so fast.” Her mom’s voice cracked and she began to cry “I guess none of us should be surprised, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Hearing her mother cry triggered something in Ellen and she felt her eyes well up with tears. Her parents had been married thirty-two years. How did one let go of something like that?

“Mom, you sure you’re all right? You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m okay and I’m not alone. Listen, why don’t you try to get here Sunday Jane’s plane is coming in around noon at Detroit Metro. If you and Mike could get here about the same time you could all ride up to the house together. Then we’d have a week to take care of everything.”

“Okay I’ll make the plans and call you back. Where will you be?”

“At the house. I’ve already signed the death certificate so there isn’t much else I can do here.” Her mother sobbed softly and struggled to speak. “Dear, God, Ellen. How on earth am I going to get through life without him?”

Ellen had no answers. She was too busy asking herself the same question.

She finished talking with her mother and then moved into the next room. A shaky sigh escaped her and she stared at Mike. His long body was stretched out on the couch, his feet dangling over onto the floor. He had fallen asleep, still dressed in his designer shirt and tie, the magazine clutched in one hand. She wiped her tears and wondered why she was angry with him.

“Mike.” The word came out flat, cool.

He stirred and instantly sat up, wiping a trace of saliva from the corner of his mouth and trying to look awake. “Sorry, honey. What happened? How is he?”

Ellen sat down in a chair across from him and leaned back, staring at the plant shelves that lined the high walls of their living room.

“He’s dead. Died before the paramedics arrived.”

Mike leaned back and sighed. “Ellen, I’m sorry.” He loosened his tie. “Come here.”

She paused a moment. Mike had never made an effort to be close to her father, and now that he was gone, she was angry with Mike for not trying harder. He didn’t understand what she had just lost—and with all her being she wanted to refuse his comfort.

Instead, she fell slowly to her knees and crawled the few steps that separated them. Then she dropped her head in his lap and gave way to the despair that gripped her.

“Why didn’t he take better care of himself?” Her anger brought fresh tears, and they spilled from her eyes. “It makes me so
mad
at him.”

Mike stroked her hair and said nothing. Finally, Ellen wiped her eyes and looked wearily up at him. He was her husband, and she believed God had brought him into her life. She loved Mike whatever his shortcomings, but she did not always feel loved by
him. He rarely made an effort on her behalf—especially where her family was concerned. Now his attempts to ease her grief seemed too little, too late.

“My mom wants us to be there Sunday afternoon.” She leaned up and away from him. “That’s when Jane’s coming in. The funeral will be later that week, Saturday morning.”

“A week from now?” He sounded incredulous.

Ellen blinked twice. “Yes. That’s the soonest Aunt Betsy can get there. Is that a problem?”

She saw Mike’s hesitation, watched his eyes look away from her, as though he were trying to think of the right way to say something he knew she wasn’t going to like.

“Honey,” he started, shaking his head, “I’ve got a baseball game to cover that Saturday. I don’t know how I can find a replacement on such short notice.”

There was more to it than that, Ellen was sure. She knew Mike wasn’t comfortable at funerals, knew he wouldn’t be looking forward to spending a week at her parents’ house in Petoskey. She loved her family, but she was aware that they had their problems…that there would be bickering even as everyone pretended to get along….

Still, the least he could do was be there for her. “A baseball game?”

“Honey, maybe it’d be better if you went by yourself.” He searched her face for a reaction. “I could always join you later when I can get away.”

She burned with anger and she didn’t even try to hide it. Drawing herself up onto her knees, she stared at him. “No, that
wouldn’t
be better, Mike.” Her voice was even and measured, a study in controlled fury.

“I have a game Saturday Come on, Ellen, you know how the producers are about last-minute changes.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Ellen’s temper blazed. “This isn’t some friend’s wedding or a class reunion where you can back out and blame it on your work. My father is
dead
. My mother wants us both to come out for the week. Can’t you understand that?”

“I’m not married to your mother.” Mike looked like he regretted the words as soon as he said them, but it was too late.

Ellen’s mouth dropped open. “Fine. I want us both there. Okay?”

“Ellen, you know I can’t take a week off without any notice. Work is a fact of life.” He paused. “Besides, I don’t like funerals. I never know how to act.”

Ellen’s eyes grew wide, full of disbelief and accusation.

He cleared his throat before she could speak. “You’ll have your family there,” he insisted. “It’s not like you’ll be all by yourself.” Mike shook his head. “Oh, forget it! You don’t understand.”

“You don’t like funerals!” Ellen stood up and paced the floor. “No kidding, Mike—” She stopped and stared at him. “Me, neither. I don’t like
death
, for that matter. But my dad is dead, and I need you there. So don’t tell me I don’t understand!”

“Don’t yell at me. I don’t deserve that.”

“
What?
I deserve a husband who has complained about attending social events with me since we got married? A husband who doesn’t want to go with me to my own father’s funeral?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, Ellen. I told you I can’t get away. Not on such short notice.”

“What if it was
you
who died, Mike? I bet the station could get by somehow without folding.”

She went to slam the cordless phone back onto the receiver.
She was so furious she was shaking. She turned to face him, and when she spoke, even she heard the hatred in her voice. “What is it, Mike? Some ditzy little news anchor have your attention?”

He stood up, recoiling as if he’d been slapped.

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it?” Her voice was still angry, but softer now “Is it really, Mike? My dad dies and you won’t take one lousy week off work for me? What am I supposed to think?”

Mike looked past her then and reached toward the fireplace mantel for his car keys.

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to think,” he said, pausing by the front door.

Ellen was speechless.

“Listen,” Mike’s voice was calmer as he continued. “I’m sorry about your dad. I loved him, too.”

“Oh, don’t give me that! Not now. You never even knew him, Mike. You never
tried
to know him. And you certainly didn’t love him. Not enough to take me to his funeral, anyway.” She snorted sarcastically. “I get the worst news of my entire life, and
you
can’t think of anyone but yourself. What’s happened to you, Mike? You’re supposed to be a
Christian
, remember? The spiritual leader of the household?”

Mike shook his head. “Oh, don’t throw that in my face. Not this time. Besides, I don’t exactly see you rushing to the Bible for comfort.”

“I’m not talking about comparing my walk with yours. I’m talking about you and me. You’re supposed to love me like Christ loved the church, give up everything for me. But not you, no sir. You won’t even take a week off work for me. What kind of Christian love is that?”

Mike’s shoulders sagged and he sighed loudly, dramatically.
“Ellen, I won’t let you guilt me into going with you to Petoskey when I have work here in Miami. I could meet you down there the day before the funeral, but I can’t possibly get a whole week off with no notice.”

“Forget it, Mike.” She turned her back to him.

“Look at me, Ellen,” he demanded.

She whirled around and put a hand on her hip. “What?”

“You obviously need time to accept the facts.” Mike’s voice was measured and forced. “Your dad’s dead. Nothing I can do can bring him back. You have family and friends in Petoskey, and you don’t need me tagging along for a week of funeral preparations. I can probably get out there for the funeral. But that’s all. Otherwise the topic’s closed.”

“Fly out for one day? I need you all week.” Her icy anger melted and she began sobbing softly as she turned away from him again. “Forget it. I don’t want you there.”

Mike was silent, then his voice came from behind her, cold and hurt. “Fine. I won’t go at all.” He strode across the room, and flung open the door.

“Jerk!” she shouted, glancing at him over her shoulder so that their eyes met for an angry moment. Then he stepped outside and slammed the door.

She stood frozen in place, studying the door and relishing the distraction of her renewed anger. At that moment it seemed Mike had always been like this, and she cursed herself for marrying him.

“Jerk!” She said it louder this time, even though no one was there to hear her.

She marched across the living room, picked up the telephone, and sat down at the kitchen table. She dialed the
Miami Times
, and in a voice that was almost unrecognizable, she told Ron Barkley that her father had died.

“I’ll need a week, Ron.”

“Listen, I’m sorry, Barrett.” Barkley’s voice was soft. “Call us if you need more time.”

She hung up and dialed the airline, scribbling flight numbers on a pad of paper and making reservations to fly to Detroit without Mike. When she was finished, she folded her arms on the kitchen table, laid her head down, and sobbed until she thought her heart would break.