The Way to Yesterday. Sharon Sala
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she would immediately call in to the store, she bolted to her feet, frantically searching for the phone, but it wasn’t in its usual place. Then she saw the stroller by the front door and Daniel’s jacket on the back of a chair and went weak with relief.
The dream.
She was still having the dream, and as long as she slept, Daniel and Hope were still alive.
She looked in the nursery. The baby wasn’t there, but when she walked back in the hall and heard the soft rumble of Daniel’s laughter and a high-pitched baby squeal, it made her smile. Following the sounds to the small patio beyond the kitchen, she found Daniel in a chaise lounge under their shade tree, holding Hope against his chest. She was on her back, her arms and legs beating the air as she gazed upward into the treetop.
She combed her fingers through Daniel’s thick, dark hair, relishing the feel of it against her palm, and then leaned down and kissed the side of his cheek.
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”
He looked up and smiled. “Why not? You needed it, honey. Besides, where else would I rather be than with my girls?”
Mary conscience tugged. If only she believed that he meant it.
“Really, Daniel? Do you really mean that? In spite of…I mean, things haven’t been…”
“Come sit by me.”
She hesitated, then when he moved his feet to give her room, she sat. She glanced at Daniel and then focused her attention on Hope, laughing at the baby’s antics, unaware that Daniel was watching her and not their child.
Except for being thinner and paler, and a little the worse for a constant lack of sleep, she was the same pretty woman she’d always been. Hair the color of caramel taffy framed a small, slender face. Sometimes he thought her eyes were blue. Sometimes they almost looked green. But he could always see the tenderness of her spirit looking out at him from within. Only now, Daniel was trying to understand where her uncertainty had come from. Before they’d married, he’d never seen her down or second-guessing herself. Now she seemed to do nothing else.
“Mary?”
She looked up and the expression on his face was a bit frightening.
“What?” she asked, and then caught herself holding her breath as she awaited his response.
“What’s happening between us?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he said gently.
“You’re right. It’s me. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so mean and hateful.” Her chin trembled. “I don’t mean to be.”
“You aren’t mean or hateful,” he said. “And it’s not you. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
Tell him. Tell him how much Phyllis hates me.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She was saved from having to talk further as the phone began to ring. “I’ll get it,” she said, and ran for the back door, leaving Daniel with a heavy heart and unanswered questions.
A few moments later she peeked out the back door.
“It’s Phyllis. She wants to talk to you.”
Daniel looked at Mary. That sick, nervous expression was back on her face.
“Tell Mom I’ll call her back later, okay?”
Mary nodded and then went back into the living room and picked up the receiver.
“Phyllis, he’s outside with Hope. He said he’ll call you later.”
“You’re lying. You didn’t even tell him, did you?”
Mary’s stomach knotted. “Of course I’m not lying. He said he’d call you back.”
“I don’t believe you,” Phyllis snapped.
The phone went dead in Mary’s ear. She replaced the receiver and then slumped where she sat. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face, trying to regain her composure before she went back outside. But when she stood up and turned, Daniel was standing in the doorway.
Mary flinched, wondering how much of their conversation that he’d heard.
“I was just coming back out,” she said, and made herself smile.
“Hope’s wet,” he said.
“I’ll change her,” Mary said, took her from Daniel’s arms and escaped into the nursery.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he watched her go. He hadn’t heard the conversation, but he’d heard the panic in her voice. What the hell was going on? Better yet—why wouldn’t she tell him?
He followed her into the nursery and slipped an arm around her shoulders as she fastened the last tab on Hope’s diaper. Just for a moment, he felt her hesitate and then lean back against his chest, just as she’d done so many times before. His heart quickened. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d let her guard down like that.
“Are you okay?”
The deep rumble of his voice, as well as the gentleness of his touch, was almost her undoing. She wanted to tell him now, in the quiet of their daughter’s room, but then he took hold of the hand that she’d cut and placed a tender kiss in the palm of her hand.
“How about we give this poor little hand a rest? I’ll make us some sandwiches for lunch and tonight we could order in. We’ll have an early dinner…maybe watch a movie. It’s been a long time since we’ve done anything for us.”
She laid Hope in her crib and then turned, unaware that the shimmer in her eyes was a dead giveaway of her emotions.
“I’d love that. You choose the food. I’ll choose the movie.”
He grinned. “As long as you don’t make me watch You’ve Got Mail again, you’ve got a deal.”
Mary made a face. “But I like Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.”
“I do, too, but I’ve seen that movie enough already to last me a lifetime.”
“Then how about Sleepless in Seattle?” she asked, fully aware that her two favorite actors also starred in that movie, as well.
He growled as he swung her off her feet.
“You pick the food. I’ll pick the movie,” he bargained.
“Chinese.”
“Lethal Weapon.”
They laughed in unison and then walked out of the room arm in arm. For now, the tension between them had been shoved aside in the joy of the unexpected reunion.
Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang. Daniel was in the act of slicing tomatoes for their lunch.
“I’ll get it,” Mary said. The smile was still on her face as she opened the door, but when she saw the expression on Phyllis O’Rourke’s face, it was all she could do to be civil. “Phyllis…what a nice surprise. Please, come in.”
“Where’s Daniel?”
“In the kitchen making sandwiches for our lunch. We’d love to have you join us.”
Phyllis glared. “Isn’t it enough that he works all week as a lawyer? Must he come home and feed himself, too?”
Mary’s stomach began to knot. She held up her bandaged hand to add to a hasty explanation.
“I cut myself this morning. He’s only helping—”
“It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” Phyllis said, and physically pushed Mary aside as she strode into the house.
Mary staggered, then steadied