Our Fragile Hearts

by Buffy Andrews

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She stopped.

  “How do you go about volunteering to cuddle the sick babies?”

  She smiled. “Follow me and I’ll get you some information on it.”

  So I did just that.

  Chapter 5

  Rachel

  The next day, I pulled up to the ornate wrought-iron gate, which looked like it belonged around a cemetery instead of a mansion. The huge house sat on top of a hill overlooking the city. I’d wondered about Mary. What was her story? Everyone has one. What was hers? Why did she live alone in a house bigger than a hotel? From the little I’d learned, her husband, who was at least twenty years older, had died long ago. She had no children but was a huge philanthropist in town. I’d googled her name and found a ton of stories about her donating huge sums of money to the library and various cultural arts organizations. But who was she really? I wondered.

  I followed the long private road, which led to a cobblestone circular driveway, and pulled up in front of the massive stone steps leading up to the main entrance. I parked my car, feeling embarrassed my old Honda Civic with rust spots was sitting in front of such a grand house. It looked as out of place as I felt. I glanced left, admiring the beautiful three-tiered stone fountain hugged by pink flowering shrubs in the grassy area, and opened my car door.

  I paused, gazing at the stately columns and imposing brick façade. I felt like I was about to enter a castle. I walked up the stone steps and approached the carved mahogany door. Just as I was about to ring the bell, the door opened.

  “Hi! You must be Rachel.” Mary smiled.

  Mary was elegantly dressed in white slacks and a periwinkle sweater that matched the color of her eyes. She wore her hair in a bob and it was cotton white, sprinkled with strands of gray.

  I held out my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

  She waved me in. “Now, don’t look too closely or you’ll see why taking care of this house has been too much for me.”

  I followed her across the polished marble foyer, crème colored with black diamond shapes sprinkled throughout. We walked past the sweeping staircase, down the hall and into a sitting area. I did see some dust, but it honestly didn’t look too bad for a woman who had apparently been doing all of the work herself.

  Mary sat down on the floral sofa and patted it with her long, slender fingers. “Please, sit.”

  I chewed on my lip, puzzled by Mary’s strange request. She was paying me to clean, not to sit and chat.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a floor that needs washing or a bathroom that needs cleaning?”

  She pursed her lips, the color of a faded red rose. “Rachel, please. Sit. I thought we’d get to know each other first.”

  I walked over and sat beside her. Mary pointed to the antique tea set on the cherry coffee table. “Would you like some tea?”

  I didn’t want to be rude, even though I prefer coffee, and accepted the fine china teacup rimmed in gold and accented with pink roses.

  Mary lifted the sugar bowl. “Would you like a cube or two?”

  I picked up the tiny sugar tongs and dropped a cube into my cup, stirring it with the silver spoon Mary had handed me.

  She sat back and sipped her tea. “Did you hear that storm last night?”

  I nodded. “It woke up my sister. She hates storms. When it storms she usually ends up in my bed.”

  Mary smiled. “I hate storms, too. Tell me about your sister. Does she look like you?”

  I nodded. Despite having different fathers, my sister was a mini me, with her blonde, curly hair that hung in ringlets and framed her heart-shaped faced.

  “A lot of people say we look alike, except her eyes are as bright as bluebells. I’d much rather have her blue eyes than my muddy brown.”

  “Nonsense!” Mary waved her hand, adorned with a diamond the size of the sugar cube I’d just dropped into my tea. It caught the sun’s rays coming through the large window and glistened. “You have beautiful eyes. And they aren’t muddy. They’re chestnut.”

  I sipped my tea. “Thank you.”

  “Now, about your sister. What’s her name?”

  “Piper Rose. She’s five and in kindergarten.”

  Mary’s lips turned up. “Piper Rose. What a pretty name. And did she end up in your bed last night?”

  “Yes. I didn’t sleep very well. She moves around a lot and always seems to end up sideways, her tiny toes digging into my back.”

  The small smile on Mary’s face grew. “Enjoy those moments. They’re fleeting. One day here and gone the next. Just like the fringe tree in front of the carriage house. Yesterday, it was in full bloom. Then we had that terrible storm last night. Pea-sized hail and wicked wind so fierce it rattled my bedroom windows. And when I walked outside this morning, the fringes were gone. Poof! Just like that they were torn from the tree and scattered all over the ground.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I said, “when Piper’s tiny toes are scratching my back.”

  Mary laughed. “Were you scared of thunder when you were little?”

  I nodded. “Actually, my friend Claire and I spent some time living with an older woman. Her name was Evelyn. You remind me a lot of her, actually. Anyway, one night not long after Claire came to live with us there was a bad storm. Claire and I practically ran into each other when we’d both jumped out of bed to go to the other’s room. We ended up in my bed and we played a game to take our minds off the storm.”

  Mary smiled. “A game?”

  “Yes, sort of. Claire came up with it. She called it the alphabet game. We’d take turns drawing letters on each other’s backs. The one not drawing had to guess what the letter was. E’s and F’s and J’s and I’s were sometimes hard. You really had to pay attention.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Mary said. “And are you and Claire still friends?”

  “Yes. Miss Evelyn’s was the first foster home we were in together. We only got to stay with her once, though. The foster homes that followed weren’t much better than the places we lived in with our moms.”

  Mary’s hand flew to her heart. “Oh, Rachel. I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you live with your mom now?”

  “Oh, no. She died. That’s how Piper came to live with me. Or rather, I moved into the apartment she shared with my mom. I didn’t want Piper to end up in foster care like me. That’s why I dropped out of college so I could take care of her. Working for the cleaning agency allows me a more flexible schedule, which I need if I’m going to be there for Piper.”

  “It’s great that Piper has you,” Mary said.

  “I didn’t even know I had a sister until my mom died. I fled home when I was seventeen, as soon as I graduated from high school. I hated my mom for choosing the bottle over me, for not caring enough to stay sober so my life wouldn’t be a revolving door of foster homes.”

  Mary hadn’t taken her eyes off mine. And in those eyes I saw shock and pity.

  Mary sighed. “I’m sorry you had such a difficult childhood. I never lived in a foster home, but I didn’t have an easy time growing up. My father was very strict and, to be perfectly honest, he was a mean man. I was always amazed by how nicely he treated Mother and me when we were out in public. Everyone thought we had the perfect family. But they didn’t see what went on behind closed doors.”

  “Sounds like we both got shortchanged on childhood,” I said. “So, yeah, like you said. Enjoy the little moments because they don’t last forever. Just like the fringes on your tree.”

  Mary smiled. “That tree is probably my favorite spring-flowering tree. I love the Bradford pear trees lining the driveway and the weeping cherry trees circling the gazebo. And the dogwoods and saucer magnolias are pretty, too. But there’s something so dainty and fragile about a fringe tree. What’s your favorite tree, Rachel?”

  “I like willow trees. My neighbor had a willow tree in her backyard and we used to play under its draping branches. The shade was nice, especially on a really
hot day.”

  Mary shifted on the sofa. “Willow trees always reminded me of umbrellas. Or fireworks. What do they remind you of, Rachel?”

  “Pom-poms. Like the kind cheerleaders use.”

  Mary arched her thin eyebrows, which had been noticeably filled in with brow pencil. “So you were a cheerleader?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fat chance. But I wanted to be. Never made the team. I’m about as coordinated as a moose walking in high heels.”

  Mary laughed and returned to talking about trees. “Have you ever seen the giant sequoias in California?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never been outside of Pennsylvania.”

  “My, are they big! And old. Thousands of years old.”

  Mary’s eyes turned glassy and I wondered if I should change the subject. But she continued.

  “Flies might live for days, tortoises and whales for hundreds of years, and trees, like the giant sequoias, for thousands of years. But eventually, they all die. No living thing, no animal or plant, can escape death.”

  I listened as Mary poured some more tea. I wondered where she was going with this.

  “So often in life we witness beauty too short-lived. Like the fringe tree. We wonder why the fringes can’t hang forever. Maybe what we should ask is why we didn’t enjoy the beauty while we had the chance.”

  I mashed my lips together, considering whether to wade into the conversation. “It’s human nature, I think, to believe there’ll always be another day.”

  “True,” Mary said. “But sometimes there isn’t. Sometimes wicked weather slams us unexpectedly and we’re caught off guard, standing in the drenching rain and rising water. Oh, I know everything in life has its own season – a time to be born and a time to die. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing the seasons could last longer.”

  I sat my teacup on the cherry coffee table. Mary was making me uncomfortable. It was as if she was delivering a sermon meant just for me.

  “Would you like more, dear?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Rachel, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away in poetic mumbo jumbo. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.”

  I held up my hand. “No. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just that I thought you wanted me to clean.”

  “Another day. But today I just wanted to talk, to get to know you a little. Can you come tomorrow to clean?”

  “I’m sorry. I have another house to clean tomorrow.”

  “Can you come the next day?”

  I checked the calendar on my phone. “Yes, that will work.”

  “Excellent. We can have lunch together.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. Mary looked like she was about to cry.

  “Unless you want to, of course,” I quickly added.

  “Well, you have to eat, right?”

  I nodded. “But please don’t go to a lot of trouble.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. It’ll be nice cooking for someone for a change. Do you like tilapia?”

  “That’s fish, right? I don’t like fish.”

  “Oh, you must try tilapia sometime,” Mary said. “It’s mild. Doesn’t have that strong fishy taste. What’s your favorite food?”

  “That’s easy. Steak. But I rarely have it because it’s so expensive. I eat a lot of pasta and hamburgers.”

  Mary nodded. “I like steak, too. What’s Piper’s favorite food?”

  “Pizza and chicken nuggets.”

  Mary smiled. “I’ll have to have you and Piper to dinner some evening. I’d like to meet her.”

  I held up my hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Mary’s shoulders sank and her smile flat-lined.

  Darn, I did it again. Said something before thinking. “I mean, I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  Mary shook her head. “It wouldn’t be any trouble. Besides, I’d enjoy the company. I hate eating alone.”

  “Before Piper came along, I always ate alone. I miss it sometimes.” I looked away, thinking about how I divided my life into two eras, Before Piper and After Piper. I was struggling with the After part.

  Mary poured some more tea. “Do you like to cook?”

  I laughed. “No! If I could take a pill that had all the nutrients I needed to be healthy I would. I think I was the only kid in my seventh-grade cooking class that burnt the sticky buns. After that, the teacher made sure I was with a more skilled student. Before Piper, I pretty much ate whatever came out of a can or a box. But now I try to cook. For Piper. But she’s sneaky. She hates vegetables.”

  Mary sipped her tea. “Was Piper excited for the first day of school?”

  “She was scared,” I said. “Afraid she wouldn’t make any friends. But when I dropped her off at school, she met a girl in her class. They became fast friends.”

  We talked some more about everything and nothing. I glanced at the antique cherry grandfather clock sitting in the corner. “I’d better go. I have some errands to run before Piper comes home.”

  I stood.

  “So you’ll come again on Friday, right?” Mary stood.

  I nodded.

  Mary walked me to the door. “Thank you, Rachel.”

  I furrowed my brows. “For what?”

  “For listening.”

  As I drove away I glanced into my rearview mirror. Mary waved from the crack of the front door. I wondered what she was going to do the rest of the day. It made me sad to think she was all alone in that big old house. It was obvious she loved children and I wondered why she apparently had none.

  Chapter 6

  Mary

  I watched as Rachel pulled away from the house. I really liked her. It sounded like the poor girl had had it even worse growing up than I did. I’ve always been a decent judge of character, and she seemed like a hard worker. It was a shame she’d had to drop out of college, though. But I admired her for giving up her dreams to take care of her little sister.

  And it was nice that she and Claire had maintained their friendship. I wished June and I had. It bothered me that I allowed us to drift apart. We chatted off and on over the years, but it was never the same. Life sometimes unfolds in ways we’d rather it didn’t, and before you know it too much time has passed to go back to the ways things were.

  I carried the tea set into the kitchen and washed the dishes. Then I sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out the paperwork I’d picked up at the hospital. I had to fill it out and return it in order to volunteer in the neonatal intensive care unit. I learned that when nurses are busy with other patients and parents cannot make it to the hospital, volunteers step in. They hold the babies, sing and coo to them, rock them and treat them as if they were their own. It sounded like a volunteer position I’d love. But first, I had to fill out the paperwork and undergo a thorough background check. I hoped it wouldn’t take long because, after seeing the teeny tiny babies in the NICU, I wanted to be able to help right away.

  I knew James couldn’t have children. He’d told me that the day he proposed to me. We were sitting on the bench in front of the fringe tree.

  “Mary,” he had said. “We’ve been going out for months and I know you don’t love me, but I can give you a comfortable life. I need a wife, someone who will be by my side in public and take care of this house and grounds. I promise I’ll be good to you. You can have anything you want. New furniture. New wardrobe. Anything.”

  It wasn’t how I’d imagined being proposed to. It was more like a plea or an offer. While James and I were fond of one another, it was obvious neither of us was in love. He continued making his case for why getting married would be advantageous to both of us.

  “I’m not home much and I work a lot, so I wouldn’t be in your way and you’d have your own space. As long as everything is taken care of, I’ll be happy.”

  I looked into his eyes. “What about children? Can I have children?”

  James sighed. “There’s something I ha
ve to tell you. When I was young, I got hit hard in the groin. I’m unable to father children.”

  I gulped. “But you can, uh…?”

  “Yes. But I can’t give you what you most want.”

  “But we could adopt, right?”

  James nodded. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

  That night, as I lay in bed, I weighed my options. Father had been nice to me ever since I’d started dating James. James did have a beautiful house and I really believed he’d take care of me. I didn’t love him, but I doubted I’d ever love anyone as much as I loved Teddy. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And if we adopted children, I could give them a chance at a better life.

  Still, it saddened me to think I’d never lie in the arms of someone I loved. And I was desperate to feel a baby growing inside of me again. Night after night I tried to remember that first tickle, the first time I felt the baby’s little fist poke through my abdomen. I constantly wondered about my daughter. She was nearing her first birthday and I wondered if her parents would have a big party for her. Would they make her a special cake and shower her with presents?

  I thought about James’s proposition for a few days before accepting. I went back and forth, weighing all my options. In the end, I thought that someone was better than no one and James was nice enough, so I settled. I shouldn’t have. Never in my wildest imagination could I have predicted what was to come. In a few short months, my life would never be the same.

  Chapter 7

  Rachel

  “Can I have dippy eggs for dinner?” Piper had asked.

  “Would you like bacon?”

  She nodded.

  I made Piper’s dinner and arranged the dippy eggs on the plate so they looked like two eyes and the bacon strips so they looked like a mouth, just like Miss Evelyn used to do for me and Claire. I smiled at the memory of Claire seeing the smiley face on her plate. She’d started to cry.

  “What’s wrong, Claire,” Miss Evelyn had said. “Don’t you like your breakfast?”

  Claire’s chin wiggled. “It’s too cute to eat.”

  “Do you want me to change it so it doesn’t look like a smiley face?” Miss Evelyn asked.