Pieces of the Heart

by Karen White

  They worked in silence for about a quarter of an hour until the old clock on the mantel chimed. Jewel looked up from where she’d been cutting out paintbrush shapes from an assortment of fabric scraps. It had been her idea to decorate the edges of the border with them, and the three women had thought it a brilliant idea—as long as they didn’t have to cut out the intricate shapes. “What’s tomorrow’s date?”

  Rainy’s needle stilled as she looked over at Jewel. “September fourth.” She nodded her head slowly. “It’ll be three years since your mama passed.”

  “I know. I can’t believe that I’m just realizing it now, though. The first two years it was like December twenty-fifth to me, you know? And now it just sort of happens without my being aware of it.” She looked at her grandmother. “Is that a good thing?”

  Rainy reached over and took Jewel’s hand. “It’s a very good thing. Your mother was all about celebrating life. She’d be happy that you’re living it, and doing such a good job at it, too.”

  Jewel looked up uncertainly. “Can we still go to the cemetery tomorrow? I’d like to bring her some mountain laurel blooms again. It’s funny; I know we scattered her ashes far away, but I always feel like she’s there in the cemetery under the stone with her name on it. And I think she likes it when I bring her flowers.”

  Rainy smiled, her eyes bright. “She does, sweetie. She does. But I’d like to go, too, so we’ll make a plan for after school, all right?”

  “I’ll go, too,” Caroline’s mother said. “I haven’t visited Jude since I’ve been back this time. I was thinking Caroline might like to come.”

  The old feelings of grief and guilt clutched at her heart, startling Caroline not only with their presence, but with their lack of intensity. It was almost as if the calm waters of the lake and the fresh air of the mountains had somehow built a cushion around her heart; buffers against painful memories and old heartaches.

  “I don’t think so. I—”

  “You’ve never been, Caroline.” Her mother’s eyes were hurt but devoid of accusation. But the old anger evaded Caroline. In place of it, a feeling of shared grief and understanding inserted itself, amazing her with its rightness. It was as if she had suddenly raked away the dead pine straw in her mother’s rose garden and discovered soft green stalks beneath.

  She swallowed. “All right. I’ll go. Just let me know the time.”

  If she didn’t know her mother so well, she would have expected the woman with the exhilarated expression on her face to leap from her chair and pump her fists in the air. Instead Margaret Collier simply nodded her head and said, “Good. I’ll let you know.”

  They all bent back to their work with the sound of the ticking clock accompanying the steady rhythm of needles pulling thread, like road maps of a short life long lived, taking each of the quilters to her own destination.

  CHAPTER 22

  JEWEL SPOTTED CAROLINE ON THE DOCK SITTING IN THE OLD DIRECTOR’S chair with a pile of rectangular fabric pieces, about the size of the place mats she’d been making, in a small stack beside her. As Jewel approached, she studied Caroline’s face, trying to figure out exactly what had changed. It was softer, somehow, reminding her of the steady glow of the night-light she had used ever since she was a small girl.

  Caroline looked up and actually smiled. Jewel smiled back and held out her hand. “I brought you our phone, in case you needed to use it.”

  Caroline’s brow raised, but her smile didn’t fade completely. “So what do you want?”

  “What makes you think I want anything?”

  “Well, according to my observations and my chats with your dad, you should be working a flea market stand. Bartering is your middle name.”

  Jewel sat cross-legged on the dock in front of Caroline and picked up a completed place mat. She smiled when she recognized the picture stitched with needlepoint on the front of the water and the canoe with two people and the loon in the sky. “Hey, I recognize this.”

  “I would hope so. Your dad said he didn’t mind me reproducing it on a place mat. I actually made a bunch with the identical picture. It’s a lot easier to mass-produce that way, and your dad keeps asking for more. He says he can’t keep them on the shelves, they’re selling so fast. I’m making as many as I can, but ten per day is my limit.”

  She squinted up at Caroline. “That must make you feel great—knowing that you’re doing something other people appreciate.”

  Caroline stared at her for a moment. “Okay, Jewel. What is it that you want?”

  Jewel pulled the Polaroids she’d taken that morning out of her sweatshirt pocket. “I took these pictures of some of my dad’s furniture pieces. I was thinking that . . . well . . . maybe, if you wanted to, you could show them to your boss and . . . well, not sell anything, but just, well, see if he thinks my dad is as talented as you and I do.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened in surprise. “Does your dad know you took these?”

  “Of course not. Do you think he’d let me give them to you if he did?”

  Caroline reached out for the pictures and began flipping through them. “He is unbelievable, you know.”

  Jewel grinned. “Yeah, that’s for sure. He’s also a great furniture maker.”

  Caroline’s face turned pink as she continued to study the pictures. “That’s what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Sure. I knew that.” Jewel smirked, and Caroline swatted her lightly on top of the head.

  “So. You want me to send these to my boss to see what he says. Won’t your dad kill both of us if he finds out?”

  “Well, there are laws that usually prevent that kind of behavior. I figured we could both handle his anger until he figures out how smart we were to do this.”

  Caroline stared out at the lake for a long moment, watching a waverunner on the opposite shore jump the waves caused by a passing motorboat. “I don’t know, Jewel. Your dad was pretty adamant about not selling any of his furniture ideas. I don’t thi—”

  “He only said that because of me—and everybody knows it, including me. But if I’m the one telling him different, don’t you think he’d listen? And I’m not saying we do anything behind his back. I’m just saying let’s get the information together to help him decide. If he still says no, then we can let it drop.”

  Jewel knew she was getting through when Caroline looked down at her. “Why is this so important to you?”

  It was her turn to study the lake and find the words to a question she had just learned to ask herself. “Because I love my dad. He did the most amazing thing for me—he changed his life and gave up something he really loved. And I do like spending more time with him. I’ve really learned a lot about who he is and what’s important to him—and it’s all stuff that makes me proud to call him my dad. But he’s so . . . well, not himself. Sure, he gets to make furniture all day. But there’s nothing else. I mean, we’re talking about somebody who used to win arguments and beat confessions out of people without lifting a hand. He is so not wanting to run a little country store.”

  Caroline studied the top picture again—the one of her own swimming trophy cabinet. She looked at it for a long time before she spoke again. “You’re right. Maybe we could just get the ball rolling a little bit and determine whether there really is any interest in his kind of furniture.” She shrugged. “It could be that we’re the only people in the world who think he’s got something going on here.”

  Jewel pushed up from the ground and stood. “Right. Like that could happen. He’s like Michelangelo except without the paintbrush. Your boss will love his stuff.”

  Caroline stacked the pictures and tucked them in her pile of place mats. “Well, I’m not promising anything, but I will get these in the mail tomorrow.”

  Jewel hugged Caroline, surprised to feel herself being hugged back. “Thanks. You won’t regret it.”

  “I already am. But don’t let that bother you. I can handle your dad.”

  Jewel waggled her eyebrows, making Caroline la
ugh. “That’s for sure. Just be gentle with him.”

  She waved good-bye, and as she turned to go she felt a place mat hit her on her backside.

  Caroline was still sitting on the dock three hours later when Rainy appeared, loon in tow on his leash.

  “Thought I’d bring the bird to his home to start getting him used to it again. It won’t be long until he’s ready to fly.” Rainy paused by her chair. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. The doctor put me on antibiotics, but no serious effects from falling in the lake.”

  Rainy shortened the leash and picked up the loon, holding it like a baby cradled in her arms. “I wasn’t talking about you falling in the lake. I’m talking about you jumping in the lake yesterday. On purpose.”

  “Oh. I suppose Jewel told you.”

  “Yep. She tells me everything—unless you swear her to secrecy, which you didn’t.”

  Caroline nodded. “True. And no, I won’t do anything as risky again as swimming in the lake. I promise to swim in a chlorinated pool from now on, so you don’t need to mention it to my mother.” She met Rainy’s eyes. “I just had to do it. One more time.”

  “I understand. But you’re going on thirteen years with that heart of yours, and you and I both know that’s way beyond what’s normal and expected. You need to be real careful.”

  Caroline rubbed the heels of her hands in her eyes. “I think about it every day. More so now.”

  Rainy sat down on the dock, the loon in her lap. “Why now?”

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged, trying to find the words. There had been so much she hadn’t told Rainy because of how frail the older woman had seemed from her illness. But now, with a bright green headscarf and pinkened cheeks, she looked more like the Rainy whose soft shoulders and warm arms had always given her rest.

  Caroline took a deep breath. “I’ve been having this dream ever since I came here.” She stopped and looked at Rainy.

  “Go on. We’re not going anywhere, so you might as well keep talking.”

  “Okay. Well, in this dream, I’m walking down a dark path where I can’t see anything except for what’s right in front of me. I’m not scared because I know there’s somebody with me. And I’m pretty sure it’s Jude, even though I can’t see him.” She felt the hot sting of tears and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes again to make it stop. “It’s been the same every time—except for this last week. I still can’t see Jude, but there’s more light, showing the sides of the path with the trees and plants. And water. I can hear the sound of water now.”

  Rainy nodded, stroking the bird in her lap. “Have you told your mother?”

  “Of course not.”

  Rainy nodded again. “I see. What do you think this dream means?”

  “I don’t know—I’m not a therapist. But I can’t help but think that it means things are getting brighter.” She smiled tentatively at Rainy. “I know that sounds obvious, but maybe I’m right. And I’m so damned proud of myself for seeing that, because three months ago I wouldn’t have even realized that there was anything wrong.”

  “Brava.” Rainy smiled and patted her leg. “Brava. You should tell your mother, you know.”

  Caroline looked away, fingering the unfinished place mat in her lap. “You know I can’t. She’d think I was having delusions and send me to another shrink.”

  Rainy threw back her head and laughed. “In so many ways, you have your mother pegged, but in other ways your mind is shut tighter than a bear trap. Margaret is a lot stronger than you could ever imagine.”

  “I know my mom, Rainy. She goes off the handle when anything rocks her boat. I mean, Jude’s death sent her around the bend, remember? She sent my dad away when I needed him the most. No matter how much clearer I see my mother now, I just can’t get over that.”

  “What?” Rainy twisted in her direction so suddenly it made the loon squawk. “Do you really believe what you just said to me?”

  “Yes, I do. Nothing’s ever led me to believe differently. My mother certainly never pulled me aside and explained anything.”

  “Did you ever give her the chance?”

  Caroline paused, thinking of all the times her mother had knocked on her bedroom door after the accident and Caroline hadn’t answered. Or the many times since she’d become an adult and let her mother talk to her answering machine instead of picking up the phone.

  Rainy’s voice softened. “I know it isn’t my place to interfere, but I have a feeling that if I don’t it will be the next millennium before either one of you mentions this. So I’m going to tell you something your mother should have told you years ago, but didn’t out of respect for you and your love for your father.” She took a deep breath, holding it in her mouth before slowly letting it out. “When the accident happened and Jude died and you were so close to dying, your father fell apart. I know you won’t remember any of this—most of the time you were in the hospital, and when you came home, your mother hid it from you as best as she could.”

  She stroked the long back of the loon thoughtfully. “He couldn’t get out of bed. He stayed there day after day while your mother brought him food and something to drink. Then she’d go back to the hospital and stay by your side. Your father wasn’t there when she asked that your brother’s respirator be removed, and he wasn’t there when she signed the papers for your surgery. She had lost a child and was about to lose another and she didn’t crack. But your father did. He couldn’t face what had happened to his perfect family. He made it to Jude’s funeral only because your mother pulled him out of bed, bathed and dressed him, and then drove him. And afterward he took to his bed again and your mother went back to the hospital to be with you.”

  Caroline felt the hot tears slip down her face, but she didn’t wipe them away.

  “I’m not telling you this to shame you, Caroline. I love you too much for that. But you need to know. I’m afraid that you and your mother will never find each other until you understand the truth of how it was.”

  Caroline nodded, knocking some of her tears onto her hands and feeling them burn.

  “Your mother lived like that for a whole year. Helping you through your recuperation and treating your dad like the invalid he had become. She was a mother and wife and she knew no other way to do it. So she did.”

  Rainy stood then, still cradling the bird and staring out toward the late-afternoon sun. “Your mother finally gave your dad an ultimatum, telling him that he could seek help or she wanted a divorce. She thought if she got serious, he would straighten up and at least try. Margaret had already taken him to so many doctors—with him dragging his feet, of course—but he always said he was simply grieving and saw no need to talk to strangers about it. Margaret truly thought that if she gave him an ultimatum, he would choose their marriage.”

  Caroline sniffed. “And he didn’t.”

  “No, he didn’t. He packed his bags the next day, arranged to sell his practice, and then moved to California. When life got tough, he got running. It didn’t matter to him that he left a wife and daughter who loved him and needed him. It simply didn’t matter.”

  Caroline closed her eyes, letting the tears flow freely now. She felt Rainy’s kiss on the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry I upset you. But you needed to hear it. I’m going to leave you now and let you stew on it a bit.”

  Caroline heard Rainy’s footsteps and the waddle of the loon as they began to walk down the dock. They stopped and Rainy said, “We’re going to the cemetery tomorrow afternoon when Jewel gets home from school. Are you still planning on coming with us?”

  She nodded, unable to speak, and listened as the footsteps faded away. Finally she opened her eyes just as the sun began to set, sinking in lonely exile into the far shore of Lake Ophelia.

  November 16, 1990

  I’ve been at USC for over a month and like it a lot. I am enjoying my classes and have made a lot of friends—but none of them is Jude. We call or write every day, but it’s still no
t the same as being there. I miss him in the same way I suppose I’d miss my arm or my ability to see. But it can’t be helped. We both agree that my education is important and this is something that we just have to get through. Besides, we’ll see each other in a week for Thanksgiving break. The Colliers are coming to their lake house and I can hardly wait. I’m having such a hard time studying for my midterms because all I can think about is Jude, and the lake, and the secret places where we can go.

  One of my best friends here at college is actually a guy. I met him on the first day of classes when I dropped my art history book on his foot and nearly broke his toe. I also dropped my coffee on the book when I reached for it, so that it was soaking wet. He was nice enough to share his for the entire class, which I thought was real sweet. His name is Drew Reed and he’s from Charleston, although he doesn’t like to talk about home or his family very much. He’s a junior and a history major but he likes taking art courses for his electives. His dad doesn’t know about this because Drew’s dad has all these ideas about Drew being a lawyer in the firm where his dad’s a partner. I don’t think Drew shares the same plans, but goes along anyway. I wonder how many people out there are like him—living out somebody else’s idea of what life should be like. I hope one day that he finds his true calling. He’s such a great guy—nice and funny and smart. And I’ve seen girls drool when he walks by. I guess I’m immune because of Jude, but if I’d never met Jude, I could definitely say I’d have it bad for Drew Reed.

  CHAPTER 23

  DREW PULLED UP INSIDE THE SHADE OF A SCRUBBY PINE IN front of the old cemetery and turned off the ignition. Jewel hadn’t said a word during the short ride and, as usual, he couldn’t think why. For about the hundredth time he wished there were some sort of instruction manual for raising teenage girls. He drove her to school each day and picked her up afterward, and came and sat at the table with her when she did her homework, and he still could coax only the minimum number of words out of her lips. He had no idea what he was doing wrong, but had decided that if he just kept making himself available, she would eventually crack.