The Way to Yesterday. Sharon Sala

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СКАЧАТЬ that moment, she felt herself trying to surface from the indulgence of this fantasy. Before it could happen, Hope let out a wail and Mary began resubmerging, pushing away the fear and returning to the dream—because it was safer—and because it was where she wanted to be.

      She blinked, then looked up. The bedroom was still the same and Daniel’s winter clothes were still hanging in the extra closet. With a sigh of relief, she pulled the last pillow slip onto the pillow and dropped it in place, making sure that the bed was turned back in an inviting manner, then bolted out of the room toward the nursery.

      “Mommy’s coming, honey. Don’t cry.”

      She’d taken a coffee cake out of the freezer and had it thawing on the cabinet. Hope had been changed and fed and Mary was in the act of laying out a clean nightgown and pajamas when she heard Daniel’s car in the driveway. With a last look at the bedroom to assure herself that everything was in place, she hurried to the front door. They were just coming up the steps as she opened the door to greet them.

      “Phyllis…Mike…thank goodness you’re both all right.”

      She took Phyllis by the hand and pulled her into the house. They were red-eyed and soot-stained and the smell of smoke was all about them.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, then gave Phyllis a quick hug before moving on to Daniel’s father. “Mike, tell me you’re both okay?”

      “As good as could be expected, I guess.”

      Mary nodded then her gaze moved to Daniel, as if seeking his approval.

      “I’ve given your father a pair of your clean pajamas and you two can sort through other clothes later.” Then she turned to Daniel’s mother. “Phyllis, you’ll find a clean nightgown at the foot of your bed beside Mike’s pajamas. There are clean towels in the bathroom as well as shampoo and a hair dryer. Please use anything you need. When you’ve both had a chance to clean up, come to the kitchen. I’ve made some hot chocolate and there’s coffee cake to go with it.”

      Mike O’Rourke seemed to go limp with relief, as if he’d been holding himself together by sheer will alone.

      “Thank you, dear. We appreciate you and Daniel having us here and we’ll try not to be a bother.”

      “Family is never a bother,” Mary said.

      Guilt rode hard on Phyllis’s conscience as she let Mike lead her down the hall toward the guest room. She paused in the hallway and looked back. Daniel was standing in the shadows with his arms around his wife, holding on to her as if his life depended upon it—and she was holding him back—her head buried on his chest, her hands fisted in the fabric of his jacket. Quickly, she turned away, unwilling to admit that the fresh set of tears in her eyes were because of them, and not the loss of her home.

      “Come on, Phyllis,” Mike said. “You shower first.”

      She took a deep breath and lifted her chin as she walked into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

      Daniel gave Mary a swift kiss and then followed her into the kitchen. It was warm and comforting and smelled of chocolate and cinnamon. He took one look at the table set for four and hugged her again.

      “You are a saint,” he said quietly.

      “No, Daniel. Just a woman fighting for a place in your world.”

      “You are my world, Mary Faith. You and Hope matter more to me than anyone or anything else.”

      She pulled back and looked at him then, her shy smile almost childlike.

      “I know that…at least…I know that now. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

      “Forgiven,” he muttered, and slanted a hard kiss across her mouth before he turned her loose. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

      “I couldn’t find the marshmallows for the hot chocolate. Do you know where they are?”

      “Nope, but I can look.”

      “Thanks,” she said, then fluttered nervously toward the cabinet. “I just want this to be nice for them.”

      He frowned. “I don’t know that they actually deserve this, but I appreciate it, just the same.”

      She turned, her hands clutched against her middle.

      “Daniel, please. Don’t say anything to them about…well, you know. They’ve suffered a traumatic loss. Let bygones be bygones, all right?”

      “Fine, but I’d better not hear one critical remark out of my mother’s mouth or they’ll be looking for that motel after all.”

      She smiled. “Thank you.”

      “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered.

      “The marshmallows, please?”

      “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

      About a half hour later, Mike and Phyllis emerged from the bedroom, freshly showered and shampooed and wearing clean clothes. Daniel was waiting in the living room, watching Mary sleeping on the sofa. When he heard the door open, he arose, then pulled the afghan a little higher over her shoulder before he went to meet them.

      “Where’s Mary?” Mike asked.

      Daniel pointed toward the sofa. “Asleep. She doesn’t get much rest these days and Hope’s already had her up once tonight. I thought it best to let her sleep.”

      Phyllis peered over the sofa and stared at the thin, pale face of the woman who’d married her son. Even from here, she could see dark circles of fatigue beneath her eyes and felt a quick spurt of remorse. She remembered how hard it had been to be a mother for the first time and how exhausted she’d been. Fortunately, she’d had her mother and older sister nearby who’d been of tremendous help and support. She looked at Mary again. Mary had no one.

      As Daniel and Mike moved into the kitchen, she turned away and followed them, well aware that she had Mary to thank for her present safety and comfort.

      “What’s all this?” Phyllis asked, as she entered the kitchen.

      Daniel took the pot of hot chocolate from the stove where Mary had been keeping it warm and began to pour it into their mugs.

      “Cinnamon coffee cake, freshly warmed in the oven, and hot chocolate,” he said, as the warm, sweet scent filled the room. “Mom, will you cut the cake?”

      Reluctantly, Phyllis picked up the knife and thrust it through the cake. It parted tenderly beneath the blade in perfect slices.

      “It looks wonderful,” Mike said.

      Daniel beamed. “It tastes even better. Mary’s a really good cook.”

      Phyllis served up the slices, then sat down in her chair. The horror of what they’d just endured had been lessened by the warmth and comfort of this home. Up until she’d walked into the kitchen, she hadn’t been able to get the smell of burning wood and smoke from her nostrils. Now all she could smell was hot chocolate СКАЧАТЬ