Sharon Sala - The Way to Yesterday

Daniel froze.

Mary felt sick. Daniel looked as if she’d just slapped him. But if she went, Phyllis O’Rourke would find out and she would find a way to say something hateful about the money an emergency room visit would cost. She couldn’t face another one of Phyllis O’Rourke’s tirades. He didn’t know that his mother had been sniping at Mary for weeks about the fact that her son was having to work too hard on his own and that she should be doing her part by going back to work, too. No matter how many times Mary had tried to explain that she and Daniel had made the decision together that she should stay home with their child, it never seemed to matter. Phyllis blamed Mary for everything wrong in Daniel’s life.

Mary sighed. “Daniel…I’m—”

Hope started crying. Daniel took a deep breath and momentarily closed his eyes, as if trying to make himself calm. When he looked up, Mary actually flinched and took a step backward. That hurt him most of all. Dear God! Did she actually think he would strike her?

Hope’s wails increased.

Suddenly, he snapped.

“Damn it all to hell, Mary Faith. That does it! I am taking you to the emergency room. We’ll drop Hope off at Mom’s on the way. No need exposing her to God knows what. And when we get home, we’re going to talk. I don’t know what’s wrong with us…but I am sick and tired of being shut out of your life. Do you hear me?”

“No!” Mary cried, and clutched his arm. “Please don’t take Hope to your mother’s house. I don’t need to go to the emergency room. It’ll be fine. See…it’s almost stopped bleeding.”

Daniel ignored her and kept walking toward the living room to get their baby.

Mary followed, still begging him to stay, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. She watched in horror as Daniel got a fresh bottle from the fridge, packed the diaper bag and then picked up their crying baby. Almost instantly, Hope’s crying stopped, but now Mary was in tears.

“I won’t go!” she cried. “You can’t make me.”

Daniel turned, staring at her as if she were a stranger.

“Fine,” he said. “Stay here. But I’m still taking Hope to Mom’s and when I get back, we’re going to talk.”

He strode out of the house, put Hope in the baby seat in the back of their car and strapped her in, ignoring the fact that Mary had followed him out into the yard, still begging him to stay.

The moment he laid Hope down, she began to cry again. But Daniel couldn’t let himself focus on her tears. Her diaper was dry and she wasn’t in pain. She just liked to be rocked to sleep and he’d laid her down a bit too soon.

“Hush, baby girl,” he said softly. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Grandma Phyllis will rock you back to sleep when we get to her house.”

He closed the back door and then turned to get in when Mary grabbed at his arm.

“Daniel…please! Don’t! You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

He frowned. “To you? Damn it, Mary Faith! Don’t you know what you’ve done to me? To us?”

Panic began to rise.

Mary stepped back, watching in horror as Daniel got into the car and closed the door.

Her heart began to race—her stomach turned. She didn’t want to be here again. She knew what was going to happen. She’d seen it every night in her sleep for the past six years.

Oh God…wake me up before the crash. Please…I don’t have the strength to see it again.

Daniel started the car. Mary stood, frozen to the spot, listening to the sound of her daughter’s shrieks. Daniel put the car in gear and began backing down the drive. Mary could already hear the sound of an approaching siren, but Daniel couldn’t hear for the baby’s cries.

Oh God…oh God.

The brown sports car suddenly appeared, careening around the corner and fishtailing as the driver tried to maintain control.

Oh God…oh God.

The police car came seconds later, sirens at full blast—lights flashing.

And Daniel is looking at me, not behind him.

Suddenly, Mary bolted, screaming as she ran, and threw herself on the hood of the car. Daniel hit the brakes and then put the car in Park just as Mary slid off the hood.

His heart was in his mouth as he bolted from the car. Dear God…if Mary had fallen beneath the wheels he would never forgive—

Suddenly, he became aware of the sirens and spun in shock, just in time to see the sports car spin out of control. A heartbeat later, the police car broadsided it and the cars exploded in a ball of flame.

Without thinking, he slammed the car door to keep flying debris from hitting Hope and threw himself over Mary’s prone body.

Mary was in shock. The dream! It wasn’t the same! It wasn’t the same. Overwhelmed with relief, she started to cry. Thank God. Thank God. Maybe this meant she was starting to heal. Even if it was just a dream, she’d given herself a happy ending.

“Mary, darling…are you all right?”

Daniel’s weight on her back felt wonderful, as did the sound of his voice in her ears.

“Yes, Daniel, I am now.”

He pulled her to her feet and then held her tight, pressing her face against his chest as he stared at the two cars engulfed in flames.

“If you hadn’t stopped me, we would have—”

“Don’t say it,” Mary begged, and put her hand to his lips. Then she moved from his arms to the car, opened the back door and lifted her screaming daughter from the seat. “It’s all right, punkin…it’s all right,” Mary crooned. “Mommy’s got you now. You’re going to be just fine.”

Daniel watched the two most important women in his life walk back in the house, then got in his car and pulled it back up the drive, away from the flames. Already, he could hear more approaching sirens. The neighbors must have called the police. It was just as well. He’d been too shaken too think past his own family’s safety.

With one last regretful glance at the cars and for the demise of both drivers, he hurried back into his home and found Mary in the rocker, singing softly to their daughter as she drifted off to sleep.

Without talking, he went into the kitchen, stood at the sink and stared down into the bloody water for a moment, then pulled the stopper. As the water began to drain away, he saw the knife at the bottom of the sink that had cut Mary’s hand. Cursing softly, he laid it on the counter, refilled the sink with clean water and soap, and did the dishes. He could still hear Mary singing, but Hope was no longer crying. At least she was happy because now he felt like crying. He’d come so close to killing both himself and Hope.

Bracing himself against the top of the washing machine, he closed his eyes and dropped his head.

“Thank you, Lord,” he muttered, then took the clean clothes out of the washer and dropped them into the dryer before grabbing the broom and sweeping the kitchen floor.

A short while later, he had finished with the morning chores. He went into the living room to check on Mary and found Hope asleep in the bassinet and Mary asleep on the sofa. Pain wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed. Not much, but just enough to remind him of what he’d almost lost. Then he picked Hope up from the bassinet and carried her into the nursery down the hall, covered her up with her favorite blanket and closed the door. She would sleep for at least an hour, maybe more.

He went back to the living room, gazed down at his wife’s thin, pale face and then at the blood seeping from beneath the bandages on her finger and sighed. She probably needed stitches, but what was done, was done. He got a small towel and wrapped it around Mary’s hand, then covered her with an afghan. She needed to sleep worse than she needed stitches, and he needed to think.