What she never told Paul, though, was that she had gone to a psychic. In fact she told no one, not even Sharon. The woman seemed normal enough and Piper was a little surprised by it. She didn’t expect a crystal ball per se, but perhaps a purple head scarf or at least a woman in her 60s. This woman was late 20s tops, and dressed in jeans and a cute top from American Eagle. She was even more surprised when the woman gave her details that no one could know, like what she had had for breakfast that day and that she cut her knee shaving that morning.
Piper asked, “Will I have children?” This was the only question she had for the woman, but she let the reader first tell her what was there, to see if she could trust her answer. The woman closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them she looked over Piper’s shoulder and said, “Well, it’s not clear, but you could. If… you see, sometimes people have a block—an energetic block that keeps them from receiving what they consciously want. I can help you. I can help you clear your block but we’ll have to set up a time for that. I only do readings here. But you could come to my apartment where I do clearings and can take the time to explain it more to you.”
Piper was already reaching for her purse before the woman was finished. “How much is it? For today, how much?” The woman looked upset like she wanted to say more but Piper had no patience. She tossed three 20-dollar bills on the table and said, “Thank-you.” The woman looked at her and asked what scent Piper was wearing. Piper straightened her tall frame and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“Umm, I don’t know. I didn’t put on perfume this morning. Maybe it’s my shampoo.” The woman looked at her with an expression that read: Stay. There’s more to discuss. Piper ignored it, and walked quickly out the door of The Tea House on Tremont Street, hoping no one she knew would see her.
Now, here in this beautiful inn in the south of France, she lay cold and brokenhearted to think that maybe this vineyard idea was Paul’s way of putting all of his attention and resources into something that would live on after he was gone, like children they’d never have.
She pulled the covers up over her head and felt a chill run through her as she pressed her hand to her forehead and realized she was sweating. She thought she might be sick to her stomach and wished she hadn’t had so much wine. She sat up, getting ready to sprint to the bathroom if need be. She tossed the iPod off the bed and closed her eyes. The scent with which she was familiar, but couldn’t put a name on, flooded her. Familiar, but somehow this time foreboding. What’s wrong with me? What’s happening to me? She wished she were at home with Viceroy sitting on her feet on the couch while she wrote her poetry, with Paul working on the computer upstairs giving her time to be alone. He loved her so, but she knew that he couldn’t help her. She needed to work through her feelings and come to grips with her reality. She was an educated woman pushing forty, married to a great guy, lived in a beautiful home, owned a lucrative business doing what she loved while getting paid for it, and she was childless.
Her dinner came up then without warning. She sprinted but didn’t even come close to making it to the bathroom. Instead, she tripped on the jeans, sweater, and boots she had been wearing earlier, which lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. She hit the ground hard and the wine, salad, and very expensive oysters were once again in front of her looking not that different from when they went in earlier that evening. She pulled herself up, locking her elbows so that her arms were supporting her, legs out behind her, torso twisted sideways, resting on her hip. She stayed as still as she could for a moment to make sure there wouldn’t be anything more coming up. But her stomach clenched again and up came a little more, mostly bile and acid this time. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed her long hair back, wishing she were home.
She stood up slowly, feeling much better. Before she could take a step toward the bathroom to find something to use to clean up the mess, though, she felt a warm trickle down her thighs. She looked down and saw bright red blood there. My period—that figures, she thought. It’s late again but it’s here, mocking me, reminding me every month that this cycle is like all the others—useless. It made her feel less and less like a woman each time. But by the time she reached the bathroom, the trickle had become a painful torrent of dark red. She held her arms over her abdomen, leaning forward and grimacing in pain. “Jesus!” she cried out with fear as she crumpled to the floor in front of the toilet. The cramping was intense, and she thought she might faint from the stabbing pain. She heard Paul coming and didn’t want him to panic. She looked around the bathroom and into the bedroom and realized that even if she had ten minutes she wouldn’t be able to clean up everything and hide from her husband that she was unwell. Just as she finished this thought, Paul came through the door and stopped. She wanted to call out to him to give her a few minutes, but he cried her name and rushed straight to the bathroom.
“Piper! What? What happened, what’s wrong? Where is this blood coming from? Are you hurt?”
She let him finish the battery of questions as she simply didn’t have the strength to try keeping him calm. She looked up at him, saw his distress, and tried to force a smile which quickly reduced her to tears. Paul crouched down and touched his wife’s face with such tenderness and love that it set off another cascade of emotions. Tears, sobs, apologies. He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, grabbed the phone by the bedside and called the innkeeper, his breath coming in spurts as he gulped air.
“My wife—needs an ambulance—she’s bleeding. I don’t know what’s wrong. We need help—please—right away.”
Piper lay back and bit down hard on the back of her hand to keep from screaming. The pain was too intense, and she knew something was wrong.
At the hospital, a kindly nurse stood at Piper’s bedside and tried to smile down at her. She knew this poor woman was distraught and in pain. She felt for her, as she herself had suffered two miscarriages. “How are you feeling, madam?” she asked. Piper stared at her and managed in a weak and raspy voice to ask where her husband was. Paul was out in the hall with the doctor who had treated her in the emergency room.
“It appears your wife was only about six weeks along, monsieur. She mentioned that she tripped and fell and sometimes, well, that is all it takes. There is no reason that you cannot try again in the next cycle. God bless you and your wife.”
And with that, the doctor patted Paul’s arm and walked away. Paul was utterly stunned. Only six weeks. Only. He bit his lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears. Six weeks. He thought back, a month and a half ago … which night was it? Which night had they conceived their baby after years of trying, years of praying, of crying, of disappointment? He didn’t know how he could possibly walk into that room in which his tortured wife lay and not fall apart. This time it was Paul who needed some time, some space. He walked down the hall in search of a quiet place to think.
He found the hospital’s chapel and opened the door. He was enveloped instantly by the comforting hush of the tiny room. It felt right, like coming home. He kneeled in the first pew and bowed his head. He cried and he prayed and when he was finished he asked God for one favor: “Please God, give me strength to lend to Piper.” He sat for a few moments with his eyes closed and just let the atmosphere soak into his thirsty skin. He knew God was not an angry God, not a selfish one. He knew that everything had a purpose and that there was a reason for everything. However, right now, he just wanted comfort for himself, but mostly for his wife. He bit his lip, hoping to hold back more tears, but they wouldn’t obey. Why was this happening? Were they really meant to be without children? His shoulders shuddered as he remembered how, on their honeymoon, they talked about being careful, not wanting to get pregnant right away. They wanted to enjoy their time together for a few years before starting a family. He thought now how presumptuous they had been, how arrogant. He felt like a failure and a weak husband sitting there in the warmth of the chapel when he should be with Piper.
He gathered his thoughts,
wiped his eyes, said a last prayer, and stood. The room swayed a little, and he cleared his throat to break the silence. He straightened up and walked quickly from the chapel into the rude florescence of the hospital hallway.
When he reached his wife’s room, he paused and drew a deep breath, knowing that he owed it to Piper to be strong. She had saved him from his post-divorce misery and had given him a chance at the relationship he had always dreamed of finding. He quietly walked into the room, only to find her asleep. He felt a wave of relief as he had no idea what he was going to say to her. He bent down over his love and kissed her clammy forehead. “I love you, Sweets,” he whispered in her ear. She stirred but Paul’s whisper was no match for the nurse’s sedative. Holding her hand, he softly recounted for her the history of their relationship. Starting with her beautiful face on the insurance company’s website, their first meeting in Sharon’s office in Boston, his asking her out, her turning him down, her coming to her senses, their first date. He told her about how nervous he had been when he proposed to her and that even though he knew they were meant to be together, he was afraid that she might turn him down again. He spoke softly as he recalled her walking down the aisle toward him at their wedding, and how absolutely beautiful she had looked that day and every day. His voice cracked and again the tears fell.
“Oh Piper, I’d be so lost without you; you’re my whole world, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. If we didn’t come on this trip … maybe … maybe the … the baby … oh God, the baby … I am so sorry. Piper, I love you so much. You are my everything.”
She heard him walk into the room. She’d know his walk anywhere, the way he scuffed one shoe every other step. She sometimes teased him about it, telling him that his horses made less noise. She felt his warm hand on her cheek, gently soothing invisible scars, like waves reclaiming the sea’s abundance of broken shells and leaving the surf once again smooth and untouched. How he loved her with his ancient heart. She lay in the hospital bed, resting, recovering and listening to the voice that was a salve on her soul. Wanting only to open her eyes and see his, to tell him that everything would be all right as long as she had him to lean on, Piper fought against the medication. But it was no use, and so she lay still and listened.
Piper, my heart of hearts, don’t be sad. I am here with you, always. Take my hand and feel me here. I promised I would never leave your side and I haven’t. Not when you were little and not now. Do you remember when you were nine, and Tommy Milliken pushed you into the cafeteria tables and you bit your lip and your shirt reddened with blood—you were scared, but I was there. I held your shaking hands. When you found Victory lying in his stall that summer morning thrashing at the walls, colic twisting his gut and you thought you’d lose him, I was there. I was the breeze on your neck, the nudge on your arm. When you left Darrick behind that day in his car, I was there – the child who held the door to your apartment and smiled at you. It was me my love. I am all around you. Death does not erase love, and life does not erase death. It’s how God wants it. I am Valo when he calls to you from the meadow and Viceroy, too, when he steals your slippers. I am the crocuses in your dooryard showing you that the winter is gone, and I am the bluebird who sings in the summer afternoon. I am words on your pages. I am yours and you are mine. God promised. Your heart may break, Piper, and your path may change, but I will be there. I will never leave you. Look for me. Learn your lessons, Love, so we may come together again. Not now, not this life, my heart. Learn patience, and if you listen through the noise and you search through the fog and feel through your numbness, you will hear me and I will help you. Rest now, Piper, and don’t be afraid. It is only one life and there is so much more. I have been waiting a long time, and I will wait the rest of your days. Take my hand, Piper, and don’t let go. He softly sang the bittersweet song that melted away the centuries:
Tämä ikivanha lupaus
Suurin koskaan tiedä - henki puhelut
Ja kuuntelen sinua
Sinun siniset silmät paloi
minun muisti elämien sitten
Odotan sinua
Etsi sinua valossa
Salvia, rovio, jäätyneiden järvien
Odotan sinua
Minä odotan sinua
Vuosisatojen avautua ja minä
odotan sinua
Odottaa sinua valo
When she opened her eyes, Paul was sitting in a chair at her bedside, asleep. She watched him for a few moments before reaching out and stroking his hair. He bolted upright.
“Piper,” he blurted out.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m okay,” she told him. He leaned over the side of her bed and kissed her mouth, and the tears came, hot and fast. They cried and held onto each other like frightened children.
“Honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about the stress and the trip and—.”
She put her hand up to his mouth. “Don’t Paul. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do this. It’s nobody’s fault. It just … it just wasn’t meant to be.” His eyes were red and tired, and he blinked back his disbelief.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll always love you.”
She closed her eyes and held her breath, concentrating on the scent-ache. Lavender, strawberries, and freshly washed baby’s skin filled the cavity behind her nose and accompanied an image: a white blanket wrapped around a baby in a man’s arms, his hands clearly strong and weathered, cradling his only daughter. One hand with a slight scar in the shape of a half-moon caressed a tiny cheek. The image flitted behind her eyes for only a moment, but left her with a feeling of quiet strength.
Paul rested his head on his wife’s lap as she stroked his hair and told him that she had a strange dream she couldn’t quite remember, but that it was peaceful. She silently wished the nurse would come back and give her another sedative so that she could get back to that serene place where there was no hurt, no mourning, only yesterday.
THE SUNLIGHT AT THIS TIME of year was comforting as it streamed through the window and warmed the table on which Piper prepared their meals and where they shared their plans for the days and weeks and months that flew by. She loved this sunlit corner more than any other part of their home except for their small bedchamber, of course. Her life had changed so much in the previous year that it was unrecognizable from the time prior to her marriage to Vander. They had been living in their new home for only three months when she began to feel a bit queasy and unsteady on her feet. Vander was so busy in the fields, and she didn’t want to worry him. She suspected that she might be with child, but she had heard countless stories of the superstitions surrounding the first three months of pregnancy. She didn’t even allow herself to stop and think about it as she was too busy to really slow down. This ill feeling was with her when she woke and came and went throughout the day. It was the worst when she was cooking, especially when she smelled chicken roasting, something she normally relished. She let her hand touch her lower belly when she knew she was alone, excited at the thought that there might be a new life inside her.
Being without a mother to confide in was painful for her, but certainly not a new feeling. She knew she could talk with her mother-in-law, but it was a long ride to the village, and she didn’t feel well enough for it. Her blood had not flowed for many weeks, and she knew enough to know that this could indicate pregnancy. She was never one to keep track of these things; she just knew that it had been a while since she scrubbed blood from her bed linens with the coldest hand-numbing water drawn from the well.
Piper often woke to Vander’s handsome face staring at her. On a particularly warm June morning, soon after she began to suspect she might be pregnant, he reached out and stroked her cheek. She blinked and when he came into focus, she saw tears in his eyes. Startled, she opened her own eyes wide, but he quickly assured her that everything was fine.
“You are so beautiful. Sometimes I watch you sleep … Just now you … you looked so peaceful.”
She closed her eyes again and moved closer to him. Her head rest
ed on his broad chest. She reached for the medallion resting there. She had saved the money she earned selling flowers in the market for almost an entire year for his wedding gift. He promised he would never remove it, in return for a promise from her that someday she would bury him with it. This thought made her sad and comforted at the same time. The gold coin glistened in the early light of their room, her finger tracing the V that stood out in its center. She had an elderly goldsmith in a village to the east fashion it for her with the bits of gold she purchased from him each week. She would never know that the kindly man and his wife needed to add several grams of their own stock to make a coin large enough to make a medallion worthy of a wedding gift. They knew that to truly give from one’s heart meant you needn’t receive acknowledgement for the act.
Vander held her close and asked her if she thought maybe they would soon have a child. She laughed, lifting her head to look at him quizzically. “Why do you ask, Vander?”
“I just have a feeling. You have a look about you … and … it’s just a feeling,” he answered, with a shy and boyish shake of his head, his straw-colored hair falling over his eyes. She pushed it back with a gentle hand. She loved that he looked almost the same as the day he came to her rescue in the meadow when they were mere children.
“What do you think it will be?” she teased.
“I am certain it will be either a boy or a girl,” he teased right back. He loved to make her laugh. He would, for all the time they would be together, always be able to drag a smile from her when she woke up in a bad mood during the months the rains lasted too long, or the winter’s cold made keeping warm difficult.
Just then the horses started to call from the stable which got the sheep bleating, which in turn signaled the goats to butt their heads against the wooden trough. Everyone was hungry, and romance had no place in a stable yard. Vander laughed and said, “Well, at least we will be used to early feedings when the babies do come.”
Piper, Once & Again Page 11
