Free Yesterday by Fern Michaels

of her to Santa Fe this would be it: his good-bye to Callie Parker. But then that wasn’t true either. He hadn’t told her yet, which meant he had to go out to Parker Manor and explain that he was going away, that he wasn’t going to attend her wedding, that there was no job with him. He had to tell her all those things, and of course he had to say good-bye to Mama Pearl, Brie, and Sela. He was about to respond when Callie spoke.
    “Do you remember, Bode, when I had my first date with Steven Bryers? Pearl was worried sick. We went to the movie, and you followed us on your bike. I swear I didn’t realize he was taking the wrong way home, and when he parked and wanted to . . . get to know me better you jumped out from behind the bushes and whipped him silly. You made me get on the back of your bike and brought me home. You broke Steven’s tooth, and it was the only time I ever heard you swear. Pearl was like one of her wet chickens that night. I’d never seen you so angry. I thought we had an understanding from then on. I assumed you felt . . . more than protective. I know we didn’t speak about it, and I know how hard you had to work to pay off Steven’s dental bill. What I’m trying to say to save face is I thought we . . . that we were . . . I hate you, Bode Jessup! I hate you for doing this to me. Now you’ve spoiled everything.”
    He watched her run from him, but made no move to go after her. Like Callie, he remembered everything . Remembered working from early morning until late at night so Pearl wouldn’t have to take in extra work to buy Callie new shoes and dresses. He’d honored his commitment longer than was necessary. He remembered his promise to Clemson Parker always to be kind to Callie. Well, he’d honored that promise, too.
    The Volvo turned over with the first tap to the gas pedal. His old car was as faithful as his old bike, as faithful as he was. They endured just the way he’d endured. He backed up the Volvo, saw the clump of Spanish moss. “I guess I was waiting for Callie to pull it off the tree because I couldn’t bear to do it,” he muttered. As he drove away he wondered if there was something symbolic in what she’d done.
     
     
    It was midnight when Bode staggered from the bathroom to the living room to pick up the phone. He dialed a number in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and waited for the phone on the other end to be picked up. He blinked, trying to focus on the shabby furniture in the apartment, none of which was his. The moment the phone was picked up, Bode said, “Hatch, this is Bode. Yep, everything is right as rain. Speaking of rain, we could use some. Tell me one more time that this is the right thing for me to be doing. Of course I know what time it is. What kind of a drunk do you think I am? I realize I’m drunk, why else would I be calling you? I could see right through her. It was the craziest thing. I know that means something. It didn’t have anything to do with the sun, even though it was bright and strong. It’s something else.”
    “Is there a reality check to back this up or are you speaking figuratively? Or are you saying something else entirely? Do you by any chance mean you saw through her as in you saw through her, which is to say she isn’t what she appears, that she’s some kind of phony who has deluded you all your life? Just how drunk are you, Bode? You never get drunk, you’re worse than a teetotaler,” Hatch Littletree muttered.
    “I don’t know,” Bode muttered in return, his words barely distinguishable over the long-distance wire. “You always had all the answers, that’s why I called you.”
    The voice on the other end of the phone scoffed. “You said you called to ask me if you were doing the right thing. The answer is yes—in my opinion. It’s your opinion that counts, Bode.”
    “She didn’t go back to the manor house. I called Mama Pearl. I don’t know where she went. She might be there now. It’s too late to call