The Heart Between Us

by Lindsay Harrel

  Chapter 35

  The nine-hour flight from Paris to JFK International had been torture. Pure torture.

  The guy next to her had snored really loud. The couple across the aisle wouldn’t stop making out. And Megan had stared at her computer screen the whole time, willing the words for her final blog post and article to come. She had a deadline with Sheila, after all. But it was too painful to relive.

  The deadline came and went.

  Yes. Torture.

  The original plan had been to fly straight home after her last day in Paris, but she wasn’t ready for that. The irony. She wasn’t ready to move forward with Caleb, but she also couldn’t fathom moving back in with Mom and Dad.

  She’d stopped in New York to see Crystal instead.

  Her sister didn’t know she was coming. Megan had tried calling her, but couldn’t get her on the phone. It’d just have to be a surprise, one she hoped Crystal and Brian didn’t mind.

  Megan approached their apartment—Mom had been more than happy to supply Crystal’s address, adding, “I’m so glad you’re finally visiting her” for good measure—and lifted her hand to knock on the red door. The sound reverberated in the empty hallway. Megan checked her watch: 6:00 p.m. Hopefully Crystal was home from work. If not, Megan would just go find a quiet coffee shop and try not to fall asleep.

  Nothing happened on the other side of the door. Maybe her knock hadn’t been heard. She pounded again, a little louder.

  “Megan?” She twirled around to find Crystal in the hallway behind her, briefcase clutched in one hand, keys in the other. “What are you doing here?”

  “Surprise.”

  Her sister bit her lip, then pulled Megan into a hug.

  “I’m sorry to intrude. I tried calling. Just thought I’d stop and see you on my way home. And . . .” Megan’s voice warbled, but Crystal didn’t seem to notice her distress.

  Crystal let go of Megan, put the keys in the lock, and opened the door. “It’s good to see you. Come on in.” Her sister snatched one of Megan’s suitcases and rolled it inside.

  Megan followed with her other luggage. As they made their way into the living room, she checked out Crystal’s chic apartment with yellow curtains, black leather furniture, and granite countertops.

  “Did you get my message? I was hoping to stay the night.” Megan plopped onto the love seat. “But I can find a hotel if it’s not convenient for you.”

  “No, I didn’t see it. But don’t be ridiculous.” Crystal took Megan’s things down the hall and after a few moments emerged from a room to the right. She lowered herself onto the arm of the couch. “I’m glad you’re here. You just took me by surprise.”

  “If you’re sure. Do you want to go out for dinner? I haven’t eaten yet.”

  “We could order in.” Crystal picked up her phone. “Chinese okay?”

  “Even better.” Megan removed her flats and stuck them under the coffee table. “Will Brian be home soon?”

  Her sister paused, and Megan thought she saw a tick in her jaw. But Crystal just shook her head. “No.”

  “Gotcha.” Maybe he was working. Or maybe there was more to the story.

  The room grew silent as Crystal perused her phone. “There’s a new place right up the road. I’m going to call. What would you like?”

  “How about beef and broccoli?”

  Crystal nodded and dialed to order the food. Megan found the guest room and changed into her pajama pants and a T-shirt. She texted their parents to let them know she’d landed safely and would head their way tomorrow. After a quick glance at her e-mail, she saw several from Sheila Daily. Cringing, she opened the most recent message.

  Megan,

  I’m surprised you missed your deadline and didn’t let me know why. You’ve ignored my calls and e-mails, and I can only assume you’ve had some sort of emergency. Write or call me to let me know you’re okay, will you? And please let me know when you can turn in your last article. I know readers will be anxious to see your list completed.

  Sheila

  Sheila thought Megan had had an emergency. How could she tell her the truth—that she’d missed the deadline simply because it hurt too much to put her heart on the page at this moment?

  Megan clicked Reply, but after a few minutes, she deleted the empty draft and closed the laptop lid.

  Crystal stuck her head into the room. “Want to help me bake cookies?”

  “Sure.” Maybe Megan would even eat one. But as soon as the thought came, an image of eating crepes with Caleb surfaced. Would everything remind her of him now?

  Megan followed Crystal into her kitchen. Crystal opened the fridge and dug around, emerging with butter and eggs. Then she rummaged in her cabinets for flour, baking soda, salt, and sugar. She got out a few plastic mixing bowls and began measuring and dumping.

  “Why are you here, Megan?” She didn’t look up, just kept measuring and dumping, measuring and dumping.

  “Seeing my sister wasn’t enough of a reason?”

  At that, Crystal looked up and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m glad to see you, but it seems like there’s something else on your mind.”

  “Fine.” Megan picked up a hand mixer, and Crystal handed her the bowl. The whir of the mixer filled the small kitchen as Megan beat the butter and sugar together. They blended together into a creamy base. “I wasn’t ready to face my life post-adventure.”

  “Post-adventure?” Crystal cracked an egg into the bowl. “Or post-Caleb?”

  Megan positioned the mixer over the egg and watched as it flew apart, melding with the creamed butter. “Both.”

  “What happened?”

  Megan told her everything. As she let go of the story, cookie dough slowly formed in the bowl with the addition of flour and the other ingredients. “I so badly wanted to be strong and brave, but I just couldn’t say yes to him.”

  “He was asking a lot of you, so it’s not like you were wrong to say no.” Crystal reached for the bowl. She gripped a spatula and folded chocolate chips into the dough. Her folding quickly became stirring—rather vigorous stirring. “Though sometimes the men in our life ask for something very reasonable, and if you say no, even without meaning to, you can end up ruining your life.”

  Her voice broke, and the bowl slipped from her fingers onto the tile floor. Crystal just stared at the splattered cookie dough but didn’t move to clean it up.

  Megan blinked in rapid succession and studied her sister. “Why do I feel like we’re not talking about me anymore?”

  Crystal finally reached for paper towels. She bunched them in her hand and sank to her knees, but didn’t move to actually wipe up the mess in front of her.

  “Sis? What’s going on?” Megan had been so wrapped up in her own misery, she’d missed something. Something big. She knelt, grabbed some of the towels from Crystal’s hands, and swiped the floor, capturing stray pieces of dough.

  Crystal rocked back on her knees and sat, leaning her head against the cabinets. Her hands still clutched a few clean towels. “My marriage is falling apart. Brian . . . He left me yesterday.”

  “What do you mean, left you?”

  “I think he might want a divorce.” Crystal continued to stare at the overturned bowl.

  Megan righted the plastic bowl and put her dirty paper towels inside. She eased the rest out of Crystal’s grasp, then placed the bowl onto the counter above them. “I’m sure that’s not true. I saw how in love you two are.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  Crystal told her about the promotion, and their fights, and all the trouble that had led up to that moment. She’d been holding on to so much pain and till now, Megan hadn’t even known she needed comfort.

  “I’ve ruined everything.”

  Megan squeezed Crystal’s arm. “You made a mistake.” She pulled her knees to her chest. The tile was cold under her bare feet. “He’ll realize it and come around.”

  “Maybe.”

  They were both quiet for a while.

&n
bsp; Then Crystal turned to Megan. “I didn’t mean to make this conversation about me.” Her voice was soft. “Back to you. You said you wanted to be strong and brave. That made me think. When we were in Rome, at the Colosseum, our tour guide said something profound about strength. Maybe it would help you to hear it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Essentially that we can’t be truly strong on our own. That there’s another source of strength out there. I still don’t know where I stand with God, but you seem to have a stronger faith than I do.” Another squeeze. “Anyway, I think he was saying that God wants nothing more than to restore us, whatever that means.”

  Megan had originally thought God made her weak. And then she’d been sure that he was calling her to be strong.

  Was it possible he was calling her to something else entirely?

  She couldn’t lay here in their bed and smell his cologne for one minute longer.

  Crystal sat and tugged her hair free from the ponytail holder. It fell around her shoulders, and she brushed the tangles with her fingertips. She flipped on her bedside light, flooding the room. Then she pulled a notebook and pen from the side table. Megan slept in the room next door, so Crystal was quiet as she crept to the rocking chair.

  Pen poised over the paper, she finally thought of the perfect title for her list: Operation Get Him Back.

  And then she thought. And considered. And debated with herself.

  Two hours passed and she still didn’t have a single clue how to get Brian to come home. It was like the Lerner proposal all over again.

  She was stuck.

  She tore the paper from the notebook, crumpled it, and tossed it to the ground. Crystal grit her teeth against the tears threatening to spill. No. She wouldn’t. Not this time. The last time she’d given free rein to her emotions, they’d strangled her. She wouldn’t, couldn’t go back there.

  Except, how did she close the floodgates when an entire ocean of love and raw regret pounded against them?

  Crystal stood and wandered to the closet. She felt for the light and flicked it on. Brian’s side was mostly empty, but he’d left his cooler-weather items behind. She lifted a gray sweater from the hanger, pulling it over her head. This was the sweater he’d had on when he proposed. It made the blue rings around his eyes pop. Crystal clutched a mound of the fabric and brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent of her husband.

  Though he may not be her husband for much longer.

  She sank to the closet floor and leaned against the wall, but something jutted into her back. “Ow.” Crystal turned and saw an old box with Crystal’s Stuff written in bold permanent marker across the top. Curious, she worked back the flap, and her eyes met the item on top—an antique jewelry box Nana had given her before she’d died. Crystal hadn’t thought about this old thing in years.

  Carefully, she extricated the box and examined it. It was pink and delicate, with inlaid gold panels. She remembered seeing it in Nana’s room when she was a child, opening it and watching the tiny ballerina inside start dancing. Over and over again, she’d crank the box and listen to the classical strains of music, watching the ballerina dance, knowing that one motion led to the other. Knowing that even if she wasn’t in control of what happened to Megan, she could control the fate of the ballerina.

  Until one day, when she couldn’t.

  Crystal had been eleven, staying with Nana again while Megan and their parents traveled to another state to get second opinions at a different hospital.

  The box sat just where it always did, on the vanity in Nana’s room. Crystal made her way over, lovingly stroking the box’s cover. It may be small and it would sound dumb to anyone else, but here was something that never changed. She could count on coming to Nana’s and finding this box in the same spot.

  She cranked the box’s small lever on the right side, then popped the lid. But something was wrong. The music trotted along like normal, but the ballerina was slow, sluggish. Maybe she just needed a little tug—

  Crystal gasped as her tug snapped the ballerina right off her base. Her fingers trembled as she tried to reattach her, but it was ruined. She’d broken it.

  “Everything okay in here?” Nana’s voice behind her made Crystal whirl around.

  “I . . .” Crystal held out the ballerina, shame forcing her gaze to the floor. “I was trying to fix it. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Nana came closer, knelt, and embraced her. “There’s nothing broken that can’t be fixed.”

  If only that was true.

  Crystal pulled away and stared at the ballerina in her hand. Her hair was deep brown like Crystal’s and Megan’s, and she wore a blue tutu. Crystal had always imagined the ballerina was her. But blue was Megan’s favorite color. And the ballerina wore a huge smile—just like Megan, who’d never stopped smiling despite all the fainting spells and hospital tests and the fact she couldn’t play sports anymore.

  She dropped the tiny figure to the ground.

  Nana picked it up. “I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, she returned with superglue. Carefully, she dotted some on the bottom of the ballerina and placed her atop her perch. When she let go, the ballerina stayed.

  Then Nana turned. “Not everything is as easy to fix as that, I’ll admit. Life isn’t perfect. It’s messy. It doesn’t follow a pattern or a plan. Thankfully, we know the Big Guy in charge.” She reached down and squeezed Crystal’s hand. “And he is the supergluer of souls.”

  Crystal’s fingers shook as she cranked the lever and opened the box now, nearly twenty years later.

  The ballerina still danced.

  And in that moment, Crystal wanted to as well. No matter what the risks, no matter if she ever got Brian back, no matter if something awful happened to Megan or anyone else she loved—she had to believe that joy still existed.

  And it began with trusting not in herself but in someone who actually had the power to put broken things back together.

  Nana and her parents believed. Megan did too, though she’d clearly had her struggles. And her beloved Brian . . . His faith had never wavered.

  Maybe it was time for Crystal to embrace something beyond herself. Because clearly, trying to be the one in control had only broken the ballerinas in her life—and inhibited Crystal’s ability to dance.

  Crystal placed the jewelry box on the floor and rose. She walked to Megan’s room and opened the door. A black comforter covered her sister’s sleeping form. With a light step, Crystal headed toward the empty side of the bed. She lifted the sheets and crawled beneath them, nestling herself next to Megan.

  Her sister awakened and rolled to face Crystal. “Hi.” Then she sleepily slung her arm around her—just like when they were little.

  That was all it took. Crystal closed her eyes and finally, at last, let someone else witness her tears. The sobs came fast and loud.

  “Oh, sis.” Megan pulled her tighter and stroked Crystal’s hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  She snuggled into Megan and heard her sister’s heart beating, strong against her ear. Her tears leaked onto Megan’s shirt and stained the pillow beneath them. Finally, Crystal’s body relaxed, and she fell asleep at peace for the first time in years.

  Chapter 36

  Maybe for the journey to finally be over, she had to be back here, where it began.

  Megan gazed up at the Abbotts’ huge home from the front yard. The late-summer rays reflected off the windows. A wind chime rustled in the warm breeze, a promise that autumn wasn’t too far off.

  She’d been home for three weeks and had expected to feel different somehow. Accomplished. Freed. But life had continued along at a clip. She’d settled into her new job at the library with ease.

  Patrons still came in and out, many of them exclaiming over how much they’d loved following Megan’s blog. They’d ask what was next for her, as if expecting her to set off on another grand adventure any day now.

  But that wouldn’t be happening. Gi
ven the fact she’d never returned Sheila’s e-mail, Megan had blown the chance for more articles with Travel Discovery Nerds, and she hadn’t queried any other publications. Sure, she’d eventually written a quick final blog post very generally describing her completion of the bucket list, but it was weeks after returning home and it was a sad letdown to her epic adventure.

  She’d hoped she could at least go back to life as usual. But that wasn’t happening either. Ever since that night at Crystal’s, Megan had been thinking about what her sister had said: that God wanted to restore her.

  But if that was true, why did she still feel so . . . incomplete?

  Then last night she’d come across Amanda’s journal, buried in her still-unpacked suitcase. Perhaps she needed to return it in order to feel a sense of completion.

  She took a breath and rang the Abbotts’ doorbell, clutching her purse strap. After a few moments, Charlene Abbott answered. She wore her hair down today, and it curled around her shoulders. “Megan.” She reached out her hand and pulled Megan into a hug. “You dear girl.”

  “Hi.” It was a flimsy reply, but what else could she say?

  Charlene released her. “Come in, come in.” She led Megan to the sitting room and sank down on the couch, patting the seat next to her.

  “Thank you for letting me stop by on such short notice.”

  “You are always welcome here, Megan. Gary is out of town at a medical conference, but he would have loved to see you.”

  “You’ll have to tell him I said hello.”

  “I will certainly do that. Would you like some sweet tea? Coffee? Water?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I won’t take up a lot of your time.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Charlene tilted her head. “I know that journey must have been difficult, but I hope you also know it meant the world to us. Reading your blog posts, following along, it was almost as if . . .” She trailed off, her voice catching. “It was almost as if we were watching Amanda do those things. And we will be forever grateful to you.”

  “You’re welcome. It was fun.” She laughed softly. “Not all of it, but I learned a lot about myself. I’m still learning, but it kickstarted the process.”