Another Yesterday Read online

  I fetched the pen from the desk and etched my name several times. The swooping letters blended in my blurred vision and after I finished, Mr. Stein slid the papers away from me.

  “And here is your check.”

  I grasped the envelope from his hand, letting the thick white paper rest in my palm as I flipped it over a couple of times—the last check box item on my to-do list. “So that’s it? I’m no longer Mrs. Paul Levine?”

  “That’s it once these are finalized through the judge. I’ll put in the paperwork for your name change for you if you like and you should receive a new social security card in about six weeks.”

  The moment I’ve been both waiting for and dreading licked at my insides. I’d been over the fight and the drama, and yet, each of the arguments had kept me in touch with a man who I’d loved mere months ago.

  A man who I believed would be my husband until I lay on my deathbed.

  A man who was now getting married to another woman, leaving me single and divorced.

  And now a man I would never see or speak to ever again.

  “Well, I guess there isn’t anything left to say other than thank you. I’m sorry for all those troubling days and nights of dealing with my ex-husband.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been through much worse than the two of you, believe me. And, you’re welcome. I know it’s hard to think of this right now, but life does go on. Years from now you will look back at this and it will all be just memories.”

  Memories. My life was already filled with those. Some good, some bad, some I never wanted to forget, and some I wished I could erase from my mind.

  “Do you have any other questions, Miss Grey?”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve got everything I need.”

  “Well, then, have a nice day.” He outstretched his hand to shake mine. “It was a pleasure working with you. Good luck to you.”

  “Thank you and thank you for all your help.”

  I rose to my feet, gripping the envelope with my fingers in one hand as I shook his with the other. The paper trembled in my hand as I then stuffed it into my purse and left the office for the last time. Weakness bled through my knees, and I stumbled to the elevator, recounting the last few minutes. I’d spoken to Paul over the phone a few times, but I hadn’t seen him. I also hadn’t laid eyes on Sarah since I caught her in my bedroom. I wanted to imagine them as unhappy and her fat, and today that dream shattered along with everything else.

  In my embarrassed stupor, my gaze rested on the bright yellow circles. Surely, I was supposed to press the one that read ‘down’, but the words and numbers didn’t register into my thoughts.

  “Are you going up or down?” a woman asked. Giving me a sideways glance, she traced my body from my feet to my head.

  “Down, please.”

  “Just signed your divorce papers, huh?”

  I shot her a glare. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’ve just been there. I know that look on your face.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry for asking.”

  “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped. I suppose I look the part—an utter mess, coming out of an attorney’s office.” A slight giggle rushed through my lips. “Yes, I just signed my divorce papers.” My chuckle inched louder with my thoughts. “Right after my ex-husband signed them alongside his pregnant fiancée.” Sudden laughter burst from my chest and I stuttered through gasps of breath. “He got the house and everything in it, while all I got was a check. A check! Nine years of marriage and I got a check.”

  The woman gave me an odd stare as though she didn’t know how to respond.

  “I’m sorry.” As my laughter died, I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny.”

  A smile spread across her lips. “As someone who has been there, I understand.”

  “When did you get your divorce?”

  “Two years ago. Horrible man. One good thing to know is one day you’ll look back on this moment and be utterly grateful for it. I know I am.”

  The elevator dinged and the door opened. I followed her inside and she pressed the lobby level button, exhaling a deep breath as though her thoughts brought her a sense of relief.

  “I just wish tomorrow could be that day for me,” I said.

  “You’ll get there. We all do.”

  My emotions changed each floor we descended—anger, sadness, fear, happiness—the mix left me queasy as the tiny box flew down the shaft and the door opened into the lobby of the building. The woman flashed me one last smile and waved before she left me weeding through the middle of a crowd walking in every direction through the busy atrium.

  As I stepped out into the sunshine, my cell phone rang. While I didn’t recognize the phone number, I recognized the area code.

  Shadow Brook.

  Guilt and remorse stung me. I had yet to tell my parents about the divorce. Of course, the shame of it haunted me, plaguing me more and more each day. I didn’t want to face the recourse of this failure. The shattered dreams of even the slightest possibility I’d change my mind about children and call my mother one day with the news she longed to hear. Instead, I had other news, and my mother’s words in reaction were known before she even uttered them. I could already feel the disappointment she would have weighted down on me like a heavy blanket.

  “Hello?” My voice was flat and devoid of interest as I sighed a heavy breath.

  “Hello, is this Rachel Levine?”

  I closed my eyes tight and slapped my hand against my forehead. The sound of my former name rushed a groan to my lips. “Yes, it is. Who is this?”

  “Hi Rachel, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Pastor Dawson, your mother’s pastor.”

  A tall, lanky man focused in my memory. Always dressed in his Sunday best, my parents had been close to the widowed man for many years. So close they wanted me to marry his son.

  “Yes, of course I remember you. How are you?”

  “Well, I suppose . . . I am okay.”

  “What can I help you with Pastor Dawson?”

  “I’m calling on behalf of your father.”

  My stomach twisted with the tone of his voice. “Is my dad okay?”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel, but there’s been an accident.”

  My heart thumped. “What kind of an accident?”

  “Your mother was driving home late last night, and she swerved to miss a deer in the road. She lost control of the vehicle and . . . I’m sorry, Rachel, but she . . . she passed away a few moments ago.”

  My butt slammed into the sidewalk. People around me jumped and gave me odd looks. One even yelled a few cuss words in my direction. Numbed shock overwhelmed my body, stealing all thought along with my breath. Like a punch to the gut, it hit with such a force, I didn’t know left from right or up from down. My vision blurred.

  “Rachel? Are you still there?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rachel. Your mother was an amazing woman.” He paused for a moment. “She spoke of you often, she loved you so much. I know you have a busy schedule; however, I think it would be best if you came home, for a few days at least. Your father would love to have you here and he’s going to need help with the funeral. I think . . . well, I think he could use some support as well.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course, I can do that. I’ll just go home, pack a bag, and rent a car. I can be there in about eight or nine hours.”

  “I’ll let your father know.”

  “Have you called my grandparents?”

  He heaved a deep sigh. “Yes, I just got off the phone with them. I don’t think they are planning to make the trip up to Maine.”

  Typical.

  “All right. Well, thank you for calling me, Pastor Dawson.”

  “You’re welcome. See you soon.”

  “Yeah . . . see you soon.”

  My thumb hit the end button and I stared at the keypad. The combination of my grandparent’s telephone number played in my head al
ong with the question of whether or not to call them myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I talked to them. Three years, maybe four, when they called me with the news my grandfather had a business trip to New York planned and wanted to see if we could meet for dinner—a dinner that hadn’t ended well.

  They aren’t planning to make the trip up to Maine.

  Pastor Dawson’s words lingered in my mind and I growled as I dialed the number. No matter how the relationship was strained, even for them, it seemed far too cold.

  The line rang a few times before my grandma’s voice picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Grandma, it’s Rachel.”

  “Oh, hello, Rachel.” Her tone was so formal, as though she spoke to the queen of England.

  “Listen, I just got a call from Mom’s pastor, Pastor Dawson.”

  “Yes, he called here too. Such a shame.”

  Such a shame? Seriously?

  I snorted an irritated breath. “Anyway, I’m headed up to Maine.” My eyes misted with tears. This had to be a dream. It had to be. “Are you and Grandpa coming?”

  “Oh, sorry, but we aren’t going to make it.” She coughed and lightened her voice. “I’m afraid I haven’t been feeling well.”

  “So, you aren’t going to go to your only daughter’s funeral?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Rachel, I’m not feeling well, and I shouldn’t be traveling.”

  “Fine.”

  “Do not take that tone with me young lady. I swear you’re just like your mother.”

  “And I’m proud of that. Goodbye, Grandma.”

  FIVE

  Maggie

  April 1967

  Dear Mama and Daddy,

  I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. I’ve settled in a small town in Maine, stayin’ at an inn.

  Dear Mama and Daddy,

  I just wanted to let ya know I’m okay. Rachel is happy and is doing just fine without her daddy.

  Dear Mama and Daddy,

  I just wanted to let ya know that even though I’m okay, I never want to see y’all ever again.

  Dear Mama and Daddy,

  I just wanted to write to tell ya I’m okay . . .

  My pencil paused, the tip of lead hovered over the paper as I thought about what to write next. In the near month I’d been in Shadow Brook—and stayin’ at the inn—I had stared at this notepad more times than a kid stares at one during school. The same questions rolled through my mind. Would they really care if I was okay and are they really gonna open this letter, holdin’ their breath at the thought of what it could say then only to let it out a sigh of relief to know I’m all right?

  Doubtful.

  Not to mention, each time I started the letter my mind would draw a blank. I didn’t know what I wanted to say to them. Didn’t know what I wanted to convey. Should I go kind and forgivin’? Should I go angry? Or should I go with a simply indifferent mood, thankin’ them for everythin’ they have ever done for me, but also lettin’ them know they would never see me again.

  I snorted at my own thought.

  Never? Seriously, Maggie? Are ya ready to stick to such a threat? Surely, Mama had said horrible things, but were they so nasty ya would want them out of your life forever? Or out of Rachel’s life?

  I snorted again.

  Why would I want them in Rachel’s life? Or why would she want them around as she got older? Given what Mama said . . .

  I could almost hear the conversation again from the bathroom of that little hotel room in Kentucky. With tears streamin’ down my cheeks, I grabbed the phone, stretchin’ the cord into the bathroom before I shut the door and sat down on the toilet, punchin’ the keys of my parents’ phone number. My breath was heavy as I waited, listenin’ to it ring and not knowin’ if I wanted one of them to answer or not.

  “Hello?” My mother finally answered.

  “Mama?”

  “Maggie? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Mama, it’s me.”

  “Why are ya callin’ so early, dear? Isn’t it like four in the mornin’ in San Francisco?”

  I glanced up at the ceilin’, blinkin’ at the brightly lit dome in the middle of the room. “Well, I’m not in San Francisco. I’m in . . . Livingston, I think. Livingston, Kentucky.”

  “What on earth are ya doin’ in Kentucky?”

  “I’m . . . I’m on my way home. Back to South Carolina.”

  There was a long, silent pause that caused a flutter in my stomach.

  “Well, I guess I’m not surprised.” She exhaled a deep sigh. “I suppose it’s for the best though, anyway. Ya probably should have come sooner than ya did.”

  “I know.”

  “It doesn’t matter now, I guess.” She took another pause and it sounded like her hand covered the telephone.

  “Mama?”

  “Just a moment, dear,” she said. “No, Connie. I said I’d like the roast for dinner this evenin’. We can do the chicken tomorrow night.” I could hear the maid in the background but couldn’t make out the words she said. “Maggie?” Mama came back. “I’m sorry. I was just—“

  “Just tellin’ Connie what ya wanted for dinner. I know I heard.”

  “So, when do ya think y’all will be here?”

  “I don’t know—two or three days.”

  “Two or three days isn’t that much time to prepare. But I’ll call Mr. Andrews as soon as we get off the phone.”

  “Mr. Andrews? Daddy’s lawyer? What for?”

  “To find us a nice family lookin’ to adopt, of course.” Her tone oozed with a sense of annoyance as though she believed I should have known what she meant or what she was talkin’ about.

  “Adopt who?”

  “Rachel.”

  “Why would we want a family to adopt Rachel?”

  “Because it’s best to find her a lovin’ mama and daddy now when she’s too young to notice ya being gone.”

  I leaned forward, restin’ one elbow on my knee as my hand brushed across my forehead. “Mama, I don’t understand what you’re sayin’. Why would I give up my daughter?”

  “A child needs a mama and a daddy. Her daddy is gone.”

  “But her granddaddy is there. That’s why I was comin’ home.”

  “It’s not the same, Maggie. Besides, ya are young. Ya might as well have a life now.”

  I glanced up at my reflection in the mirror, askin’ the woman starin’ back at me the silent questions of whether she was hearin’ this or not or if she was goin’ crazy.

  “Mama, are ya actually sayin’ I should give my daughter away?”

  “Maggie, I know how it sounds, but think about it. She’d be much better off in a stable family with two parents and you will have the chance to go back to school and meet some new people. You will get married again and one day will have another child—maybe even more than one. But ya will do it when you’re ready and have a husband.”

  “Mama, are ya bein’ serious?”

  “Of course, I am.”

  “Ya seriously want me to give your granddaughter to another family.”

  “Well, I know it will be hard, but you’ll get over it and you’ll see when she’s flourishin’ that it was the right choice.”

  Even a month after that conversation, as I sat on the beach this spring afternoon, I still snorted with the thought of Mama’s words. The right choice. Was she so deluded in her own mind to think givin’ up my daughter was the right choice?

  I glanced up from the notepad in my lap, squintin’ as the sunlight bounced off the sand and the ocean waves. A pair of seagulls glided through the air as I tried to control my anger. Although the birds flapped their wings, they didn’t go anywhere. Instead they just rode the wind, hovering over the beach while their heads glanced from side to side, their only focus on finding food. We should all be so lucky for such a simple life.

  While I didn’t know if spring had officially sprung in Maine, today had been a particularly beautiful day, and one I wanted to take full advanta
ge of by enjoyin’ myself on the beach.

  “And what do I decide to do instead?” I asked myself. “Write a letter to my parents. Way to go, Maggie, way to ruin the afternoon.”

  I threw the pencil down into the sand, and the force sent tiny bits of rock and dirt up into the air about an inch as Rachel played beside me. On all fours, she screeched, laughed, and blew raspberries while she grabbed at a few toys Helen had brought back to the inn from a garage sale. “To have just in case other families have babies,” she had said. But the twinkle in her eye every time she saw Rachel said otherwise. She bought them for her. Period.

  Abandonin’ the letter, I glided my fingers back and forth through the cool sand, ignorin’ the world around me while I soaked in the sun’s warm rays beamin’ down upon my face. The smell of the sea lingered through the air while the sound of the waves pounded the shore and the birds cawed to one another high above my head.

  While I didn’t want to admit it, it reminded me of South Carolina, and yet, there was a difference here I loved. Perhaps it was the cooler air or perhaps it was somethin’ else. Somethin’ I couldn’t put my finger on. Growin’ up I never thought I’d leave Charleston, but when I finally did, I couldn’t help but feel like I should have a long time ago.

  Of course, at the time I thought the place for me was San Francisco, which then changed to Washington, and then back to San Francisco. Those turned out to be nothin’ more than adventures I didn’t want to think about, though, and while they were full of love and everythin’ I’d ever dreamed of, they were also full of heartbreak and a pain so horrible it sucked the breath from my lungs.

  “You must be Maggie,” a voice called out.

  I glanced over my shoulder as a tall, young woman approached, her red curls bounced from not only stepping through the sand, but from the breeze.

  I lifted my hand to shield the sun from my face. “I am.”

  “I’m Nancy. My mom is one of Helen’s friends.” She stuck her hand out to shake mine as a smile beamed through her green eyes and freckled cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too.”