Pieces of the Heart

by Karen White

  Jewel’s eyelids were heavy but her eyes remained open and focused on Caroline as she approached the hospital bed. The nurse had pulled up a chair and Caroline took it, reaching for Jewel’s hand.

  The nurse held her hand up. “Five minutes,” she whispered before leaving, closing the door softly behind her.

  Caroline leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. My head still hurts—just not as much.”

  “Good.” She waited for Jewel to speak again, listening to the silence filled with hums and whirs of the machines that measured and dosed, and haunted the far reaches of her own memories.

  “Did you read the journal?”

  Caroline hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

  “Good. I was hoping you did. Did you hide it?”

  “Well, I brought it with me, in case you wanted it.”

  “Don’t . . . don’t tell my dad, okay?” Jewel’s hand curled into her own, pressing the closely clipped nails into her palm.

  “He needs to know, Jewel. He needs to know the truth.”

  “I know. But I want to tell him myself.” She closed her eyes briefly, and Caroline watched as a tear made its way down the young girl’s cheek. “Promise me that if something happens tomorrow, I want you to tell him something. I want you to tell him that no matter what, he’s my dad. That knowing the truth hasn’t changed anything for me. And tell him . . . tell him I love him.”

  Caroline felt the door open behind her and she stood. Leaning over Jewel and avoiding the IV line, she kissed her on the forehead. “You’re going to be fine, Jewel. You can tell him yourself, okay?” A tear fell on Jewel’s cheek and she realized it was her own.

  Caroline straightened but Jewel pulled her back. “Did you see the quilt?”

  “Yes.” She smiled weakly. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah—it was hard keeping it from everybody.”

  “But why, Jewel? Why did you think you needed to finish it? And why not tell anybody?”

  “Miss? You need to leave now.” The nurse had the door open wide.

  Caroline held up her hand, then turned back to Jewel. “Why?”

  She looked up at Caroline with those eyes that had always seemed so out of place in such a young face. “I found the quilt in her trunk a few months ago, and when I heard you talking with your mom about it, I knew what it was and I figured my mom took it after Jude died for some reason. And she wanted me to finish it. It’s weird . . . but sometimes I feel her with me and I can hear her talking to me as if she were really there. I think that’s how I figured out about . . . Jude’s heart.”

  She looked up at Caroline to gauge her reaction, but Caroline just nodded. Jewel continued. “I think she wanted to show you something and you wouldn’t understand it until I was finished with the quilt. Does that make sense?”

  Caroline shook her head and straightened. “I’m not sure.”

  “Miss, you really need to leave now.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.” She brushed Jewel’s hair off her forehead and forced a smile. “Get some sleep now. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

  Jewel gave her a thumbs-up and Caroline answered with her own, then left the room with the impatient nurse close on her heels.

  She found Drew sitting on the same vinyl couch, his head in his hands. He looked up when she entered and she made herself smile. “She’s fine. Just needed to get a few things off her chest, that’s all.

  She’ll talk to you about it soon.” She looked into his eyes and knew that whatever Jewel told him, it would all be okay. Whatever wrongs had been done were in the past and they had been done in the name of love. They would survive. All of them.

  He nodded, and she noticed how the cheek stubble and messy hair only added to his appeal. It was just one of the things that drew her to him, including how he made her laugh and how he loved his daughter.

  “When you packed her things, did you get her teddy bear? It was one of the things she asked about.”

  “Yes—I left it in the car with her clothes. Do you want me to go get it?”

  “No, I don’t want you going out there again in the dark.”

  “Drew, they might need you for Jewel. Don’t worry—I parked near the entrance under a light. I’ll be fine.”

  His mouth formed a thin line. “Thanks. But be careful. And if you’re out there too long, I’m calling out a search party.”

  “Yes, Mom. I’ll hurry.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I threw a couple of pillows in, too, just in case. I’ll get them and maybe we can get a little sleep.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that we sleep together, Caroline? What would your mother say?”

  Surprised, she asked, “How can you joke at a time like this?”

  He didn’t flinch. “How could I not? And who says I was joking?”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, somewhat glad to be back on familiar ground with him, then left the room.

  The nearly deserted parking lot made it easy for Caroline to find her car. She’d parked under a light so she could see and easily slipped the car key into the trunk lock. When she’d left the house, she’d been in such a hurry that she’d just thrown everything inside. Now she stood in the bright light of the street lamp with the trunk lid open and stared inside at the mess she’d made.

  The light illuminated the red border and Caroline reached for it, her fingers clutching the cotton of the quilt as she pulled it out of the trunk. Oh, Jude, she thought, bringing the quilt to her face, smelling the fabric and the night air. With her eyes closed, she could still see the bright colors, the football jersey and the swimming trophy, all of it connected by the hand stitches of a young girl. All during the drive down to Atlanta the question as to why Jewel had done it had gone through Caroline’s mind over and over. And now, as she stood in the dark holding her brother’s quilt, she remembered what Drew had told her that night at the bonfire. You have received the most incredible gift of love imaginable. From both Jude—and your mother.

  She stumbled against the edge of the car, the heaviness of understanding loosening her joints and making it hard to stand. She hugged the quilt as she if were hugging all the people she loved in her inadequate arms, all the people who were a part of the quilt—including Drew. The tears surprised her as she looked up in search of the moon. She no longer cried for it. Instead, she counted her tears as one would count blessings, suddenly aware of how many she’d been given and how much gratitude was long overdue to the woman who had given her all of them.

  Slowly she began gathering the scattered clothes and the diary, wrapping everything up inside the quilt, feeling the weight of it all as if she held the moon in her arms as she made her way back through the darkness.

  When Drew awoke, it was to find that somebody had slipped a pillow under his head and that a warm body was curled up next to him. He opened his eyes and saw Caroline, her eyes bright and open and staring at him. She held Jewel’s teddy bear in her hand, her index finger nervously plucking at the bear’s nose.

  He sat up quickly. “Is everything all right?”

  Her hand felt warm on his shoulder. “Everything’s fine. Jewel’s surgery is still an hour away. I just called Rainy and she’s on her way.”

  He stretched, feeling as if his neck would never sit straight on his shoulders again. “Thanks for the pillow—I guess I was a lot more tired than I thought.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled at him—a different kind of smile than he was used to from her. It was a warm smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been rehearsing it so she could use it when it was time to talk about her boss and the pictures of his furniture.

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. You’re smiling. And it’s making me nervous.”

  “I’m just smiling. Really. I’m worried about Jewel, and I know we still have to have our little talk about how the pictures ended up on my boss’s desk, but I feel
like smiling.”

  “Good. Keep doing it. Because I’m worried sick, and seeing you smile is helping.”

  “Okay. I can do that.” She grabbed his hands with both of hers and held tight.

  They both looked up in surprise as Margaret entered the waiting room. She was fully dressed but her eye makeup was smeared and there was a small pink curler still lodged on the top of her silver-blond hair.

  “Sorry I’m late. I got Caroline’s note when I got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. I came as fast as I could—I even put on my makeup and did my hair while I was driving.” She patted her hair self-consciously, narrowly missing the curler. “I’m sure I’m a wreck, but I needed to be here.” Her gaze dropped to the bank of chairs where Caroline had spread a large dark-blue-and-red quilt while he’d slept. Noticing it for the first time, he stood and moved closer to examine it.

  Margaret lifted her hand and touched the first square, a baby-blue blanket with JWC monogrammed on it. Lightly she brushed her fingers over the line of squares, from Little League, to a football jersey, and then the picture of him with Shelby in a yellow dress. Her fingers paused, as if wanting the story to stop there. But then they moved on to what appeared to be Caroline’s life: swimming trophies, bathing suits, and quilted place mats. He recognized the cross-stitched heart that had been missing from his key chain, and smiled to himself at the resourcefulness of his amazing daughter.

  Margaret spoke, her voice uneven. “This is Jude’s quilt, isn’t it?”

  Caroline moved to stand beside him and spoke, her voice hesitant. “Yes, but Jewel’s picked up where I stopped. See?” She pointed to the square where Jude’s life intersected with Caroline’s—the square where Jewel had place the cross-stitched heart.

  Drew touched the quilt, feeling Shelby’s presence so strongly he thought that if he turned around he’d see her out of the corner of his eye. He studied the colorful squares, trying to understand the story they told, and marveling again at the daughter who had made it, and the remarkable woman who had given her life. Caroline touched him on the shoulder and he turned to face her.

  “Jewel told me that . . . that she felt her mother wanted her to do this for me; to help me understand.”

  He embraced her, welcoming her warm presence against his chest.

  She lifted her head. “See, when I saw the quilt, I finally understood.” She placed her hands flat on his chest, and he felt his heart stretch and swell. “I finally know what Jude was trying to tell me.” She laid her head between her hands. “Right after the accident, when the car had finally come to a stop and the horrible pain in my chest was gone, I saw Jude. I knew he was dead, even though he didn’t look hurt. He was sitting on the ground next to me, talking. We were holding hands, and I knew we were about to go away together. I was warm, and comfortable, and so happy that the pain had stopped and I was ready to go wherever he led. But then he let go of my hand and told me that I needed to stay.”

  Drew’s arms held her closer as Margaret held out a fresh linen handkerchief. It was so absurd, and so much Margaret, that Caroline laughed through her tears. After wiping her eyes, she continued. “I wanted to go run after him, and make him take me with him but he said I couldn’t. And all these years, I’ve been thinking that I was supposed to stay here as my punishment, and that’s how I’ve lived my life.”

  Drew cupped her face and made her look at him. “And now?”

  “Now I’ve seen Jude’s quilt, with his life and my life intertwined, and I realize it isn’t the story of our lives, but the story of his heart. And how much I’ve cheated both of us by letting those last rows remain empty.”

  He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her before releasing her. Caroline faced her mother, and Drew was struck again at how similar they were, especially now with their matching expressions of atonement mixed with surprise.

  “In all these years, I’ve never thanked you—not once. So thank you, Mom. For everything. For everything you did after the accident. For the choices you had to make so I would live. And for everything before then and since then that I never thanked you for.”

  Mrs. Collier blinked back tears as her hands fluttered in the air before coming to rest on Caroline’s arms. “You don’t need to thank me, Caroline. I just . . . I just want to be your mother. If you’ll let me.”

  They came together with a laugh and a sob, their arms reaching around the other easily as if each had been practicing in dreams for a very long time.

  A nurse entered the waiting room, holding a clipboard.

  “Mr. Reed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your daughter is being prepped for surgery. She wants to see you, and you’ve got some final paperwork to fill out and sign. Can you come with me?”

  He nodded, feeling sick all over again, the way he’d felt when he’d found out that Shelby was dead. How could he cope if something happened to Jewel? He’d always known how much he loved her. Maybe it was the human condition that made people not realize how much somebody meant to them until they were faced with their loss.

  Caroline put a hand on his arm. “I’ll be right here, all right? Everything’s going to be okay.”

  He nodded, somehow feeling that she was right. As he left with the nurse, Rainy arrived.

  “Am I too late?”

  He lowered his head to kiss her on the cheek. “No, she’s about to go in. Do you want to come talk to her again?”

  She shook her head. “No. I said what I needed to say last night. Right now should be just the two of you. Tell her I’m here and I’ll be waiting for her until they’re done and she’s in recovery.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

  He hugged her, then left, turning around long enough to see Margaret and Caroline still hugging and sharing the lacy white handkerchief.

  By the time he’d signed all the paperwork and spoken briefly with the surgeon, Jewel was already on the gurney. She looked bald under her hospital cap, and he hardly recognized her except for the eyes. He took her hand, feeling the long, slim fingers. No longer the little-girl hand he remembered.

  “How are you doing?”

  She rolled her eyes, and he was somewhat comforted by the familiar act. “Except for the needles and tubes running out of me, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” He took a deep breath, thinking about all the things he’d rehearsed to make her feel better and wondering why he couldn’t remember a single one. He took a long shot. “From now on, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. If you want to try out for the swim team, then I’m not going to stop you. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

  She smiled and rolled her eyes again. “You should too, Dad.”

  “What? Try out for the swim team?”

  “No. Do what makes you happy. If you want to go commercial with your furniture, then do it. We’ll make it work.”

  He just nodded, not sure what he should say.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, sweetie.”

  “I found Mama’s journal. I’ve been reading it and I want you to read it, too. Tell Caroline—she has it and she’ll give it to you.”

  “Okay. Anything in particular you want me to read?”

  “All of it.”

  “All right.”

  “And Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “I never wanted any other dad, no matter what. Nothing will ever change that.”

  He looked at her oddly, wondering if the anesthesia was beginning to take effect. “I know, sweetie. I’m yours and you’re mine, remember? We used to say that a lot, didn’t we?” He watched as nurses wearing surgical caps and masks came forward to begin wheeling the gurney into the operating room. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in recovery.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  He stood and watched as they wheeled her away, feeling as if his heart had been taken from him and tucked into the smooth, pale hand of his daugh
ter, who wasn’t too old to call him Daddy, after all. He turned and found his way back to the waiting room with the orange vinyl chairs and fluorescent lighting and the one person in this world who knew more about pain and grief than anybody had a right to, and was still strong enough to let a bereft father lay his head on her shoulder.

  CHAPTER 28

  August 29, 1992

  Yesterday I gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl in the world. It’s hard to see what color her eyes are going to be, but her hair is definitely red. And, judging by the way she screamed as she was forced out into the world, she’s a redhead through and through.

  Drew and I had been discussing names all month, and I thought we’d decided on one of each. But this morning, when he held our daughter right after I’d fed her, he said he’d changed his mind about the girl name we’d picked out. He wanted to call her Jewel, because, next to me, she was the most precious thing in his life. It made me cry, and I became even more convinced that I did the right thing eight months ago. I know Drew would love this baby even if it wasn’t his. He went through the entire pregnancy with me, and read all the parenting books I bought. At night he would sit for hours with his hand on my belly, waiting for the baby to move, and sharing all of his dreams for our future. She’s his as much as she is mine. And that’s why I won’t tell him. There is nothing to be gained from it, and when I see her small head cradled in his large hands, I want to weep with how blessed I am. I lost Jude, but in return I have gained a family, and for that I can’t be sorry.

  My mother once told me that our paths in life are usually hidden except in hindsight. I understand that now. Loss and grief do that to a person, I guess. I tried to tell Caroline when I called her about the baby, but I knew she wasn’t listening. She’s having a rough time since the accident, and I sometimes wonder if she’ll ever get over it. I know she took it hard when I told her I was getting married. I was so tempted to tell her the whole truth. Maybe one day I will be able to tell her and her mother that there is a part of Jude still on this earth so that they can discover with me the parts of him that are within Jewel.