by Karen White
There was a brief tapping on her door and she did a quick check to make sure the diary was out of sight before telling him to come in.
“I have to deliver some chairs to Grandma Rainy’s store—do you want to come with me?”
Jewel leaped from the bed before remembering that wasn’t her style. She sat back down on the bed and shrugged. “Whatever.”
Her dad stared at her for a long moment without saying anything. “Okay—go hop in the truck. I’m ready to go.”
She waited until she heard her dad reach the bottom of the steps before grabbing her backpack and racing to follow him.
Her dad had already started the truck and had it in gear by the time she climbed into the passenger seat. In her opinion, the whole switch from city lawyer to country woodcarver had been weird. But buying the pickup truck had sent her over the edge. She could even stand the new plaid shirts and jeans more than she could stand having to climb up to get inside the truck.
The windows were rolled down and she stared out at the scenery as her dad wound the truck down the mountain. They passed an ice-cream shop and she almost asked him to stop before she remembered that she wasn’t speaking to him.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I’ve been thinking. I’ll arrange for private swimming lessons for you, if you like. That way when you try out next year, you’ll be more confident and more ready to be on the team.”
She shifted her head to look at him, keeping her face expressionless. She should cut him a break. After all, her mother had died while swimming, although technically it wasn’t the water that had killed her. Her mother had just happened to have had a massive brain aneurysm while swimming off the shore of Sullivan’s Island, where Jewel and her mom had been vacationing. As usual, her dad had stayed behind in Charleston to work and hadn’t been there. Yeah, she should cut him a break. Except he was being completely unreasonable about the swim-team thing.
“I’m a good swimmer, Dad. I can handle it.”
He didn’t say anything for a while but concentrated on navigating the winding road. Finally he said, “I think it’s best that you wait.”
She turned her head back to the window and kept her eyes straight ahead, making all the scenery go by in a blur.
Her dad missed the point entirely that she didn’t want to talk. He cleared his throat and said, “Have you had any headaches lately?”
“Not really—not any bad ones, anyway.”
“Good. You’re scheduled to see Dr. Oifer next week for a checkup. He’ll probably schedule you for another MRI to make sure everything’s okay.”
“That’s totally not necessary. I’ve already had three and there’s been nothing there. I’m just one of those people unlucky enough to have migraines. That’s it.”
She felt her dad tense beside her and she knew they were both thinking of her mother and how she had died. But Jewel couldn’t think of anything to say that might make it better, so she remained silent, staring out the window.
Her dad had barely put the truck in front of her grandmother’s store before Jewel hopped out and crossed the parking lot, noticing the new Cadillac parked next to them. As she looked at the Georgia plates, she felt the first prickling behind her eyes—always a sign of a headache. She stopped for a moment and closed her eyes and could see in the darkness behind her lids the kaleidoscope circle of light that stayed there. There wasn’t any pain yet, but it was only a matter of time.
She took the steps in one leap and threw open the door. “Grandma!” she yelled, feeling the first stab of pain at the base of her skull. Jewel spotted two ladies standing near a quilt rack holding a quilt of deep blue and red. The older one Jewel recognized as her neighbor, Mrs. Collier, but she was sure she’d never seen the slim blonde who stood behind with her lips tightly pressed into a single line. But there was something familiar about her, something about the eyes and the way they stared out at the world that made her think she’d seen her before.
Grandma Rainy came through the kitchen door and spotted Jewel immediately. Grandma came toward her with a knowing look and pressed Jewel’s head against her bosom. “It’s the start of a bad one, isn’t it? Come on back to the kitchen and I’ll get you some tea right away.”
Rainy nodded to the two ladies as she led Jewel away, and Jewel glanced back to see the young woman again. The blonde was staring back at her, her skin even paler than before, as if she, too, recognized something in Jewel.
Jewel closed her eyes again, succumbing to the dark pain that now engulfed her and to the warm embrace of her grandmother’s arms.
CHAPTER 5
DREW WATCHED RAINY PULL HIS DAUGHTER OUT OF THE ROOM and took a step toward them, but Rainy waved a hand in his direction, making him stop. “She’ll be fine—it’s just a headache. I’m going to get her something to drink and she’ll be better in no time.”
He watched as the door that led to the kitchen swung shut in his face, leaving him staring at the solid expanse of wood. He thought for a moment of staying there with his nose pressed against the door rather than forcing a conversation with the other two occupants in the room.
“Well, hello, there, Drew. It’s good to see you again so soon, isn’t it, Caroline?” Without giving her daughter a chance to answer, Margaret Collier continued, “Was that Jewel? I haven’t seen her since I was here in April. I’d swear she’s grown six inches since then! She looks more like a sixteen-year-old than a thirteen-year-old, that’s for sure. And she’s looking more and more like Shelby, isn’t she?”
Drew smiled, unexpectedly pleased to see that somebody besides him had noticed the resemblance between Jewel and her mother. As a toddler, the similarities had been subtle, except for the color of her hair, but as Jewel approached adolescence, her mother’s stamp was becoming more apparent. It was almost as if the decision as to whom Jewel would look like had been temporarily suspended, leaving her to choose.
“Yes, she is.” He watched as comprehension dawned on Caroline’s face.
“She’s Shelby’s daughter? So you’re . . . Well, I knew she’d married; I just didn’t realize . . .” Blushing, Caroline let her voice trail away as if realizing what she had been about to say out loud.
“Yes, Shelby was my wife. After she died, I decided it was best for Jewel to move up here from Charleston to live full-time.”
Caroline’s face softened. “I’m sorry. Shelby and my brother—Jude—were best friends. We hung out a lot growing up.”
The tentative way she said her brother’s name, as if the consonants and vowels were rusty on her lips, reminded him of the way he said his dead wife’s name, and knew they were both living with the presence of ghosts.
She looked down at her unpolished, blunt fingernails. “Shelby was probably the nicest person I’ve ever known. She always knew the right thing to say.” She focused again on Drew’s face and her smile faded as if remembering who he was and that she didn’t like him very much. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment as she turned away from him and began running her fingers reverently over a quilt thrown over a stand. Drew studied her for a moment, noting the complete lack of jewelry and makeup. Her hair was pulled back with a rubber band in a sleek blond ponytail and she wore a white T-shirt and jeans. If he hadn’t already known that she was an accountant, it would have been his first guess. She was clearly a person who didn’t allow a lot of garnishes into her life that might interfere with her appraisal of cold, hard numbers.
Caroline smiled again just as he was about to look away and he stopped, unable to make himself not stare. She was gently rubbing her fingers over a quilted patch and smiling to herself at a silent thought. The smile transformed her, softened her face and eyes, and turned her into a woman he could almost believe he wanted to get to know. But then she turned toward him, and the cold mask slipped over her face again. She dropped the quilt and lifted her hands to press against her heart in an automatic gesture before she turned away from him again
and walked toward the kitchen door where Rainy and Jewel had disappeared minutes before.
Drew stared at the closed door for a long time, then headed back to his truck to unload furniture.
Caroline pushed through the kitchen door, relieved to be away from Drew’s appraising stare. He had unnerved her. He had been staring at her as if he could read her private thoughts, and it had scared the crap out of her. She had been thinking about the time she, Jude, and Shelby had skipped school to go fishing. They had fallen asleep in the boat and gotten so sunburned they blistered, making it impossible to disguise their truancy. She had been about to laugh out loud at the memory when she felt Drew’s gaze on her, and it was as if he had shared the memory with her. She’d turned her back on him, unable to breathe for a moment. Her memories were her own now, and the girl she had been was gone forever, just like Shelby and Jude. They were all dead now, in a way.
Jewel sat at the old pine table with her feet propped up on a chair and her forehead covered with a damp dishcloth. Rainy had just set down a mug of steaming tea in front of her.
“Here now, sweetie. Take slow sips so you don’t burn your tongue and you’ll feel better in a few minutes.”
The girl gave a weak nod and held the cloth to her forehead with one hand as she reached for the mug with the other.
Rainy smiled in Caroline’s direction. “She gets these headaches sometimes. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you something, too. You’re looking pasty.”
Caroline did as she was told and pulled out a chair, being careful not to jostle the young girl across from her. She looked at Rainy, remembering how frail she had seemed when she’d hugged her, and noticed how baggy the overalls were and how the flesh seemed to hang from her thin forearms. When Rainy turned around with a mug, Caroline saw with a start that the long braids that had always been a fixture on Rainy’s head were gone, replaced by wispy gray strands that were partially covered by an ugly tie-dyed scarf.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, Rainy?”
Rainy regarded her steadily for a long moment. “Would it have made any difference to you? You had problems of your own, as I recall. Besides, I knew it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. And there was nothing you could have done anyway.”
Stabbing guilt hit Caroline like a physical punch. Would it have made a difference? Would she have run out of her quiet, ordered life to be with her? She looked down into the dark tea, seeing the reflection of the old glass fixture above the table that had been there ever since she could remember. She knew the answer and it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. It had taken a near-death experience to bring her back here. She doubted anything else would have.
Caroline felt a warm hand on her own and looked up into Rainy’s face, which showed her years of living undisguised by makeup. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Caroline looked down again to blink away the sting in her eyes. She nodded, knowing that Rainy really did understand. She always had.
“Is that why you’re selling the store?”
Rainy shrugged. “Partly. But I guess it’s time. My Bill, before he passed on, tried to get me to retire so we could travel some together. See the Grand Canyon and Old Faithful and the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ve never been farther than Charlotte, you know.” She leaned heavily on the sink while she tugged the dishwasher door open. “So I suppose I should see what’s on the other side of the mountain before Jesus calls me home.”
The kitchen door opened again and Margaret breezed in, impeccable as always, without a strand of hair out of place despite the drizzle outside. She spotted Rainy and walked over to her. “There you are, you old coot. I’ve been gone for three months and now that I’m back you don’t even bother to call or say hello when I stop by to see you.”
Her mother enveloped Rainy in a tight embrace, reflecting their decades-long friendship, then held her at arm’s length, her eyes misty. “Your color’s back. I think you’re beating this thing.” She squeezed Rainy’s shoulders. “I knew you could do it.”
Rainy’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. “Oh, stop. I’m not on my deathbed yet.” She blinked her eyes and stared closely at Margaret’s face. “Your mustache needs bleaching.”
Margaret dropped her hands and dabbed at her eyes with a knuckle. “It’s good to see you, too. And your chin hairs could stand to become better acquainted with a tweezer, dear.”
Jewel had lifted the cloth from her forehead and was staring at the older women in confusion. Caroline took a sip from her mug. “Don’t pay any attention to them, and don’t even try to understand them. I’ve been around them for thirty years and I still don’t get it.”
Jewel smiled and sat up, taking the cloth off her forehead and bunching it in her hands. “You live next door to us on the lake, don’t you?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes. I knew your mom. She was a really great person. I’m sorry she’s gone.” She gave her a slight smile. “You look a lot like her.”
Jewel glanced down at her hands and the wadded cloth, and for a moment Caroline thought it was Shelby sitting in front of her. The flaming red hair was the same, as was the slim, muscular body. But the shape of the face was different: Its high cheekbones and dimpled chin were definitely a legacy of some other limb off the family tree. As she lifted her eyes back to Caroline’s face, she was all Shelby again. Not in the color, but in the way they were shaped and in the light that seemed to shine behind them. Jewel’s dark green eyes, the color of the lake at sunset, were calm and warm and seemed to hold facets of deep knowledge unavailable to most humans.
“Thank you.” Jewel smiled and took a sip from her mug. “You’re the swimmer, right? I saw my dad making the trophy case for you.”
Caroline slid her chair back, scraping the old linoleum checkerboard floor, and watched her mother and Rainy empty the dishwasher. Their entire conversation consisted of Margaret trying to get Rainy to sit down and rest and Rainy trying to snatch dishes and glasses out of Margaret’s hands so she could put them away herself.
She turned back to Jewel. “No, actually I’m a former swimmer. I haven’t been in the water for years.”
“How come?”
Because I can’t. “Um, no time for it. My job keeps me pretty busy.” She drained her mug, hoping to signal an end to the conversation.
Jewel leaned forward on her elbows, glancing over to the arguing women as if to make sure nobody overheard. “I want to try out for the swim team, but my dad says I need to be a stronger swimmer before he’ll allow it. Maybe you can coach me—in secret.” She held out a hand to stop Caroline’s protest, misinterpreting her objection. “Not because he won’t allow it—he suggested it, actually. But because he’ll be jumping in the water with us, telling me what I can and cannot do and generally making my life miserable if he knows about it.”
Caroline almost smiled. There was something so likable about this girl. Something so familiar. But she couldn’t help her. She couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Jewel. I’d like to help but I just can’t.”
The young girl stared at her with those eyes that seemed a lot older than the face they were a part of. “Okay. Whatever.”
Rainy came to stand by Jewel’s chair and put an arm loosely around her shoulders. “How’s the headache?”
“Much better. I just have those little weird spots in the corner of my eyes, but the pain’s gone.”
Rainy nodded. “Good. We got that one in time. You need to remember to treat your headache the minute you know it’s coming. It’s a lot easier to get rid of that way.” She brushed hair off of Jewel’s forehead, and the young girl closed her eyes and let her head rest against Rainy’s side.
Margaret approached the table and placed two well-manicured hands on the back of a chair. “Did you tell Caroline about Shelby’s memory quilt you’re making for Jewel?”
Rainy kissed the top of Jewel’s head before stepping away. “No, I didn’t. I was waiting until she’d been here for a while before showing it to her.”
&nb
sp; Margaret’s brows creased. “Whatever for? It’s a beautiful quilt, Rainy. And Caroline loves quilting. Remember all those beautiful memory quilts she did back in high school? I’m sure she’d love to see Shelby’s.”
Caroline felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Shelby and Jude had been so close that any memory quilt of Shelby’s was bound to have a reference to Jude. Rainy was right: She definitely wasn’t ready. She looked at her mother with a flash of anger. How could it be that Rainy Martin knew exactly how Caroline would feel, yet her own mother hadn’t a clue?
Jewel stood and tugged on Caroline’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Seeing no way out, Caroline forced a smile and stood. “Thanks. I’d love to see it.”
She followed the young girl into what had once been the dining room in the old house and was now Rainy’s workroom, trying not to drag her feet.
Margaret paused in the doorway and turned back to Rainy. “Are you sure we’re not tiring you out? Maybe you should stay in the kitchen and sit down. Jewel can show us the quilt.”
“I am just fine, Margaret. Maybe you should stay behind and rest. You’re starting to show your age.”
“I am not! And just so you know, dressing like a twelve-year-old in baggy overalls does not make you look any younger.”
Caroline rolled her eyes and followed Jewel into the room.
Jewel stood in front of the large worktable in the middle of the room. The old dining room was her favorite, the dark oak paneling and fancy molding around the ceiling still decorating the room long after its final use as a family eating place. Sometimes, when she was alone in this room, she could see the Ryan family—a mother, father, grandmother, and two girls, seated at a large plank table holding hands with their heads bowed. The Ryans had left Hart’s Valley forty years before, but they’d left an impression on their house. Jewel wondered if maybe other people could see them, too, if only they’d open their minds wide enough.
