How the Heart Runs

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  When the meal was ready, she went to the living room.

  Seated in her recliner, Emmaline smiled wanly when she saw Kate. “This is so kind of you.”

  “Emmaline,” said Kate gently, “I’m your friend. This is what friends do.”

  The smile Kate received in return was worth every second of the time she had spent helping the other woman.

  “I guess it is, isn’t it?” Emmaline said. She stood carefully and began to walk toward the kitchen. Kate hovered behind her, wondering if she should offer support.

  “There’s tea on the table. I didn’t know how much sweetener you used, so I didn’t add any,” Kate warned her when she made it to the chair Kate had pulled out. Kate sat across from her at the table.

  Emmaline took a long sip of her tea. She gave Kate a weak smile, then put her hand on her heart.

  “You seem exhausted, Emmaline,” Kate said. “Why don’t I leave you to rest?”

  “No, I...” Emmaline lowered her head, then lifted her eyes to Kate. “It’s just...it’s really nice that you’re here.”

  Emmaline’s loneliness felt more palpable to Kate than ever in that moment. “Okay,” Kate said gently. “I’ll stay.” She didn’t have the heart to leave abruptly, despite her vow to limit her time with Emmaline.

  “I’m sorry to be such a wet blanket,” Emmaline said. “I just don’t seem to have any energy. Nothing is getting done.”

  “Well, I can take care of that,” Kate said briskly. “Are there any chores I can do for you? Vacuum, dust, clean bathrooms?”

  Emmaline looked up, astounded. “You would do that for me?”

  “Of course, I would. Now, how can I help?”

  Emmaline hesitated. “Well, my bedroom and the living room really need to be vacuumed. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” Kate stood. “Where do you keep your vacuum?” She felt relieved to have a task that would keep her busy. “I’ll start in your bedroom,” she said. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be finished with your meal.”

  Kate climbed the stairs. When she entered the bedroom, she saw that the bed was unmade; a pretty blue Dresden Plate quilt was rumpled, the pale blue sheets askew. Kate surveyed the room. There was a handbag on a chair and pieces of jewelry on the dresser. On a night table lay a folder with a thick pile of papers and a red pen—perhaps something Emmaline had been working on? But Kate felt a ripple of shock when she saw a chestnut wig setting on a stand atop a chest of drawers.

  A knot of dread congealed in Kate’s stomach. A wig! Who kept wigs around other than cancer patients who were suffering through the loss of their hair? True, Emmaline had denied having breast cancer...but had the question been too specific? Could she have been diagnosed with some other type of the disease?

  Kate tried to think positively. There were all kinds of reasons why someone might choose to wear a wig. Perhaps Emmaline suffered from some form of natural hair loss. Or maybe she simply wanted to change the style and color of her hair without messing with her color and cut.

  Kate shrugged off the thoughts and plugged in the vacuum. She vacuumed the hardwood floors and the powder blue rug beside the bed. But the wig drew her like a lodestone, inviting her to take a closer look. She vacuumed over to the high dresser and took a quick, close look at the wig.

  It was soft and silky and appeared to be real hair; if Emmaline were wearing it, Kate would bet a stranger would have no idea it was a wig. The color was an extremely close match to Emmaline’s hair, light chestnut with blonde highlights. The difference was that this wig had little gray in it, as Emmaline’s natural color did. Another difference was the style. While Emmaline wore her hair in a short, attractive pixie cut, the wig was a full head of chin-length hair cut in a bob, with feathered bangs that would probably fall over one eye.

  While Kate continued vacuuming, her mind was racing. Was Emmaline having chemotherapy or radiation, some type of treatment that would cause her to lose her hair? That would make sense if she truly did have cancer. But why, when Kate had clearly asked if Emmaline had cancer, did Emmaline simply evade giving her a straight answer? It did seem to indicate some level of deceit, didn’t it?

  Kate switched off the machine and wound up the cord. After securing the plug that clipped onto the cord, she called down the steps, “Would you like me to put fresh sheets on your bed?”

  There was a momentary silence, and then Emmaline said, “I would love it, Kate. Thank you.”

  After Emmaline’s answer floated up the stairs, Kate retrieved a clean set of sheets from the linen closet and carried them into Emmaline’s room. She made short work of stripping the bed, then took the dirty sheets into the bathroom, where she had seen a large laundry hamper against one wall.

  Returning to Emmaline’s room, Kate wondered if the wig on the dresser was the only one Emmaline owned. On the spot, she decided to take a quick look in the closet.

  Pulling open the closet door, she saw that it was a very small space, a common characteristic of an older home. There were no wigs in sight, no wig boxes stored on the single shelf above the hanging bar.

  But what Kate did see that had her mouth falling open were three pairs of sneakers. All three looked used, one far more broken in than the other two, but all three also looked like serious cross-trainers, not simple walking shoes. Kate herself owned no sneakers so...so serious looking.

  The sneakers were well worn. Mud—the consistency of clay—was stuck to the sides of one pair. How long ago had Emmaline worn these? Kate couldn’t tell exactly, but it must have been recent—the mud hadn’t yet dried. Just like the mud lingering outside from the rain two days ago.

  Had Emmaline been exercising since her episode at the Bristol? And more important, was grueling exercise like jogging appropriate for a woman with serious health concerns? According to Emmaline, the doctor had ordered her not to exert herself. Had she ignored the orders?

  Maybe Emmaline had just gone for a leisurely walk, she reasoned. But if that was the case, why would she have three pairs of shoes clearly meant for serious exercise? There seemed to be no simple answer, but she suspected if she asked Emmaline, she would hear yet another story that didn’t fit the facts.

  When Kate finished cleaning, she rejoined Emmaline in the kitchen. “There. Vacuuming done, bed made.”

  “Kate Hanlon, you are an angel,” Emmaline said. “You’re going to spoil me.”

  “That’s the idea,” Kate said, chuckling. “The only other person I have to spoil these days is my husband.”

  There was a silence that didn’t feel entirely natural or comfortable to Kate. When she looked at Emmaline, she saw that the other woman had tears in her eyes.

  “You’re very lucky to have a husband to spoil,” she said in a hushed voice.

  Kate recalled the painting signed with the initial of Emmaline’s maiden name. What had happened to her husband? Yet another question about Emmaline’s secretive behavior, Kate thought.

  Before Kate could decide how to respond, Emmaline said, “I was hungrier than I realized. Thank you so much for suggesting I eat. Without you, I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”

  It was a clear signal that Emmaline didn’t wish to continue the thread of the conversation. So Kate let the moment pass, even though her instincts told her that she was on the verge of learning something more about Emmaline’s mysterious illness and her equally mysterious past. After all, what had Kate actually learned about Emmaline? Her mother was from Copper Mill, and her grandmother had left her house to Emmaline, who seemed to have no close friends or family in the area. She was a freelance writer, and she lived in Philadelphia before moving to Copper Mill. She owned a wig and exercise sneakers, and she did counted cross-stitch. She was also a very talented artist. A pretty sparse accounting of fifty-some years of a life, in Kate’s opinion.

  In an effort to get Emmaline to talk about the sneakers in her upstairs closet, Kate said, “Paul didn’t have such a great run today. He’s a little concerned that he wo
n’t be in good enough shape by the race.”

  “Hmm,” said Emmaline, only mildly interested. “I see.”

  “I’ve never jogged,” Kate said, trying a different tactic. “It never held any appeal. Are you a jogger?”

  “No,” Emmaline said. That was it. The woman fell silent.

  Since Kate couldn’t bring up the sneakers specifically without appearing to have been snooping, she finally changed the subject. “That’s a beautiful wig on your dresser upstairs. It’s nearly an exact match for your own hair.”

  “It is a good match, isn’t it?” Emmaline said tranquilly. She made no effort to explain its presence.

  Abandoning any plan to pose further questions, Kate rose. Squeezing information out of Emmaline Ashford was proving more difficult than getting fruit juice from a potato.

  “I must get going. I hope you begin to feel better soon. Are you going back for a checkup in the near future?”

  Emmaline watched her mug as she twirled it around and around between her fingers. “I’m not exactly sure when my next appointment will be.” She made a face. “I’m really not very fond of that Dr. McLaughlin, but since he is an ER physician, I doubt I’ll have to see him again.”

  Kate didn’t know what to say to that. Apparently, the lack of dissatisfaction Emmaline had expressed regarding the doctor had not abated. The question Kate wished she knew was this: what was the diagnosis he had rendered?

  Before Kate could respond, Emmaline said, “Have you ever had a manicure? I’ve heard there’s a wonderful spa at the hotel.”

  Kate grinned. “Yes. I can vouch for that from personal experience.”

  “Why don’t we go together?” Emmaline suggested.

  It would be better, Kate thought, to have another companion join them. “Sure. If we go on the weekend or in the evening, Livvy could join us.”

  Emmaline shook her head. “No, the weekdays are much better for me. How about Friday? We could do lunch afterward.”

  “Oh, I already have lunch plans for Friday,” Kate said. “How about Saturday?”

  “I suppose that would work,” Emmaline said reluctantly. “Who are you having lunch with?”

  “With Livvy.” Since Emmaline clearly hadn’t wanted to include Livvy in their manicure plans, Kate had no intention of inviting Emmaline to lunch.

  Emmaline said, “You two seem to be very close.”

  Kate smiled. “She was one of the first people I met in Copper Mill, and we’ve become good friends.” Best friends, actually, but Kate kept that to herself.

  Emmaline frowned. “You know, Friday really would suit me better than Saturday. Could you change your plans with Livvy?”

  Kate’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, Emmaline. I’m sorry, I don’t think so.”

  “But you could check, right? Or maybe I could come along with you, and all three of us could have lunch.” She brightened. “That would work, wouldn’t it?”

  Kate remembered the way Emmaline had practically pushed Paul right out of the conversation at the Bristol on Sunday.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said firmly. “That wouldn’t work. Livvy and I have some church business to discuss, and also, I don’t have time for the spa on Friday. But if Saturday can work for you, I’d love to see you then.”

  Emmaline hesitated, her face sullen.

  Just then, the telephone on the kitchen wall rang. Both women jumped, and Emmaline said, “Goodness. That hardly ever rings. I wonder who it could be.”

  She rose and went over to answer the call. The phone wasn’t cordless, but it did have a long cord so that whoever was using it could still move around the kitchen. “Hello?”

  Kate didn’t know who the caller was, but Emmaline’s sudden stillness alerted her that it was an important call. Welcome or not, Kate couldn’t tell.

  Kate stood and began clearing away the remains of Emmaline’s meal. There was no dishwasher, so she washed each item and placed it in the drying rack. As she worked, Emmaline was speaking in a low tone with her back to Kate, making it impossible to hear anything intelligible.

  As Kate dried the last of the dishes, then hung the dishtowel neatly over the handle of the oven, Emmaline hung up the phone and joined her by the sink. Her face looked dazed, and when her gaze met Kate’s, Kate was shocked to see that Emmaline’s eyes were brimming with tears.

  She said, “My sister is coming to visit.”

  Sister? Hadn’t Emmaline said she had no one she wanted to contact? Yes, but Kate recalled Emmaline’s near slip when they had discussed it in the ER. Now Kate realized she almost had said “sister.”

  Kate replied, “That’s not a good thing?”

  Emmaline covered her face with her hands and began to sob, her thin shoulders shaking.

  Afraid the woman might make herself sicker, if indeed she was sick at all, Kate hastened to draw her to the couch. She wrapped her arms around the slighter woman’s shoulders and slowly rocked her, much as she had when her children needed comfort.

  When Emmaline’s tears had subsided to occasional hiccupping sobs, Kate drew back and reached for the box of tissues on the end table behind Emmaline.

  “Emmaline, what’s wrong? I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth.”

  Emmaline sighed, her breath hitching. “I was afraid I might never see my sister again,” she said haltingly. “You can’t know how much this means to me.”

  “You’re right,” Kate said. “Explain it to me.”

  Emmaline sighed again. “It’s not easy...We had a falling out.”

  “You weren’t speaking to each other?”

  “She wasn’t speaking to me,” Emmaline said.

  Ah. So the falling out was a part of the anguish and pain Kate sensed that Emmaline was hiding. For the first time, Kate felt that she was hearing something truthful.

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday was sunny and milder than normal for autumn.

  Paul and Eli went out for a training run before the sun had risen fully. The two men stretched and began an easy pace. Eli had decreed that they would run a little farther again today, upping their total training distance. Paul had a feeling he was going to be challenged to his limit. Again.

  They set off from the church parking lot and ran into town. Their plan was to veer northwest toward Pine Ridge and catch a small connecting road about halfway between the two towns and circle back to Copper Mill on Sweetwater Street.

  “How are you feeling?” Eli asked after the first mile.

  “Decent,” Paul responded. And it was true. After the initial stages of the run, he settled into a rhythm and breathing pattern that lasted for quite a while.

  As they jogged through town and out the other side, he allowed himself to feel hopeful. Maybe—just maybe—he really could be in shape to run in this race in a few weeks. On Pine Ridge Road, they passed a gym, where the morning crowd was coming and going in their sweats and sneakers. Some carried dress clothes so that they could go straight to the office after their workout. Paul waved at a fellow who called his name, recognizing him from the diner.

  Then his eye caught a familiar pixie hairstyle on an older woman. She walked with a spring in her step as she entered the gym. If it hadn’t been for that walk, he would have sworn the woman was Kate’s new friend, Emmaline Ashford.

  But that made no sense. He had seen Emmaline collapse at the Bristol with his own eyes, and he’d witnessed Kate’s concern as the woman’s condition seemed to fluctuate throughout the past week. Emmaline Ashford couldn’t—or shouldn’t—be working out.

  As Paul and Eli pounded on past the gym and turned east to head back in the direction of Copper Mill, Paul couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. Emmaline had a very distinctive hairstyle, a sophisticated short do.

  After a lengthy cooldown, Paul parted company with Eli and headed home. Kate was breading chicken when he walked in.

  “Dinner?” he asked hopefully, even though he hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

  Kate nodded, smiling. “Yes.
How was the run today?”

  He spread his hands. “Not too bad. Not too bad at all.”

  “Starting to feel a little more confident?”

  “A little,” he admitted. “Hey, I saw something kind of weird today.”

  “Your youth?” Kate joked.

  He grinned. “No, it wasn’t quite that thrilling. But strange, definitely strange.”

  “What did you see?”

  “It’s more what I think I saw,” he told her thoughtfully. “While Eli and I were running along Pine Ridge Road, I saw a woman in exercise clothing going into that gym just past the little Appalachian craft shop. Kate, I would almost swear it was Emmaline Ashford.”

  Kate was quiet for a long moment. “Could you have been mistaken?”

  Paul shook his head. “Kate, this woman was the same height as Emmaline. She had that same skinny build, and she had the same hair color and style as Emmaline.”

  A troubled expression crossed Kate’s face. “You know, when I vacuumed for her the other day, I found several pairs of sneakers in her closet that looked like expensive cross-trainers. There was fresh mud on one of the pairs...” She trailed off, her gaze far away. “Just yesterday morning, she had trouble breathing and seemed very weak. And a few days before that, she had what looked like a very real episode of chest pain. She never did really say what was wrong. Why would she be exercising the very next morning?”

  Paul shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t have any brilliant insights. I’m not the detective in this family.”

  “You don’t suppose she could be making herself ill, do you?”

  “On purpose?” Paul shook his head. “What makes you say that?”

  Kate shrugged. “It’s probably way off base. But sometimes she seems so miserably unhappy...”