Hearts Key

by Marianne Evans

  You’ve never, ever been abandoned. Not by God most especially, and not by the friends and family God placed in your pathway—and Pyper’s.

  The truth of that statement resounded through her spirit for long hours after their return home from Fall Creek Falls.

  Hearts Key

  13

  Tyler kept Pyper in his peripheral vision while he worked in the yard. She played with the bag of gardening toys he’d picked up for her last week at a local dime store—for all of fifteen minutes. Then, she’d returned to the house and came back to their spot in the yard, carrying the sparkly kickball he had also acquired for her visit.

  At present, she blasted the ball through the yard, chased it, then let loose with follow-up kicks, and giggles. Amy was out grocery shopping with RuthAnne, and so far, Pyper had seemed pretty comfortable to be left alone with him. It helped, though, that Amy promised to be gone only for a short time—a half hour to forty-five minutes at the most. It also helped that Pyper had something to do, outside, in wide-open spaces.

  Tyler’s bit of yard maintenance was nearly finished, and he loved the results. Yeah, the work was a pain, but no arguing with the polished up results. Pyper went on a mad dash again and Tyler watched, enjoying her increased abandon and childish delight.

  He started to dispose of the weeds; that’s when Pyper jerked violently in mid-stride to chase the ball. Then, she went perfectly still. She didn’t shout; she didn’t make a sound. She tumbled to a sitting position, drew up her legs tight and began to rock back and forth. Her eyes sparkled with moisture. Tyler stopped what he was doing, watching as she trembled and rubbed her left leg, her eyes wide with shock, and what he could only assume was some form of pain.

  “Sugar beet? You OK?” He started toward her, but she winced away from his approach. Tyler froze. He knelt to her level, soft grass cushioning his knees. He was puzzled, but game to try reaching out to her. “What happened, honey?”

  Her eyes brimmed. Tears trickled over, and her chin quaked. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at her leg where he noticed an angry, blooming welt of red. “I won’t cry.” The trembles increased. “I promise. I won’t. I’ll be very, very quiet.” She whispered the mantra to herself, not Tyler, still clutching at her leg, curling in on herself.

  The poor thing had been stung on the leg by a bee, and she trembled more from fear than pain, backing away from him in meek retreat. Tyler didn’t need extra reasons to detest the emotional havoc Mark Samuels had wreaked, but this one skyrocketed to the top of his list.

  “Pyper, can you let me help?”

  “No. S’okay. I’m fine.”

  Once more, the words were a whisper. She was leagues away from fine, and he knew it. She remained tightly crouched, the angry-looking bite her only focus. Soft hiccups and choked sobs accompanied Pyper’s now rolling tears.

  Tyler remained squatted and steady, respecting her appointed measure of distance. Likely the freshly injected venom sang hot through her calf. He tried once more. “I can help, Pyper. I can make the pain go away. Please trust me. I’d be happy to help take care of you.”

  She looked up at him hesitantly, through glittering, watery eyes. “Mommy’s not here, an’ it really, really hurts. I’ll be good if you help me, Tyler. I promise I will. You won’t have to be mad at me like Daddy. I won’t cry or make sad noises.” She eyed the bee sting and rocked back and forth. “I’ll be very, very quiet,” she whispered.

  Rage simmered deep in his blood, rage toward a man he’d gladly throttle—but he knew that reaction was instinctive, rather than Christian. Pyper was the only one who mattered right now, and Tyler determined to use this episode to show Pyper a different pattern of male behavior.

  He moved closer, taking his time. “Did you get stung by a bee?” he asked gently.

  Pyper dissolved. She nodded emphatically, reached up for him and held on tight, sobbing against him. “I got stunged!”

  “Honey, I’m so sorry. I’ve been stung many times before, and it hurts so bad. I understand just how you feel. You don’t have to hold back around me. I don’t mind tears, and I don’t mind sad noises. Honest.”

  For a long, soothing moment, he just held her tight, right there in the cool, damp grass, cradling her close, rocking just a bit. Pyper rested, content and at ease, relaxing in steady increments. Once she calmed, he took her hand in his and helped her to stand.

  “Come on, Pyper. I’ve got a lotion that will cool the pain away, and we can get the stinger out. Once we do you’ll feel lots better.”

  Despite wobbly legs, she followed him, keeping her hand tucked in his. She looked up at him with a mix of expectation, hope, and uncertainty. Lord, he petitioned with urgency, let me handle this right. Help me assure this precious little girl, and help me show her Your loving care.

  “Let’s go to the bathroom.” He directed her inside. “I’ve got cotton balls and calamine lotion that’ll fix you up just fine.”

  Pyper nodded. She sat on the commode and after retrieving a few necessities from the medicine cabinet, Tyler knelt in front of her, lifting her leg by the calf. “You’re one brave young lady.” He pushed up the hem of her Capri-style jeans. She went taut watching him uncap the calamine lotion and tip the bottle until a dab of it colored the cotton ball. He stopped, and looked deliberately into her wide, scared eyes. “It’s going to feel cold. That’s all.”

  She rolled her lips in and winced as he applied the medication, but then she relaxed, and stared at her leg in wonder. “It’s sorta like a ice cube. It’s workin’ I think.”

  The harder part was coming. “I need to try to get the stinger out. While I do that, know what we can do?”

  “What?”

  “Sing a song. What’s your favorite?”

  She shrugged. Her hair tossed against her shoulders with the motion. “What do you like to sing when you’re scared?” Her question was spoken in a tentative voice, as though she didn’t want to be irritating, or weak. God, he prayed, this little girl is such an angel.

  While they talked, and decided to sing their A-B-C’s, Tyler kept her attention away from the fact that he squeezed the red welt; that he gently worked at the tip of the stinger’s exposed end until it slid free. She flinched at one point, when he had to squeeze her skin pretty tight, but at least he didn’t end up needing to use tweezers. Just seeing the instrument might have terrified her. He applied another dab of calamine to the wound, wanting to soothe and heal anything he had freshly exposed. A Band-aid later, she was ready for action once again.

  “I wanna see it,” Pyper said, taking him by complete surprise.

  “See what, sugar beet?”

  “The stinger thingy.”

  He had set it on the sink for the time being, intending to wipe things down and toss it into the trash once Pyper was taken care of. He gave her a grin, because she looked a whole lot braver and happy now that they had achieved crisis containment. “Really? You do?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Tyler slid the miniscule black stinger into the palm of his hand and held it out for her inspection. In fact, they both bent over it. Tyler imagined they looked like a pair of scientists on the brink of some world-altering discovery.

  “Sheesh,” she muttered.

  “Sheesh what?”

  “Sheesh that stupid tiny thing hurt me. How’d it do that?”

  They left the bathroom behind, and Tyler launched into a child-friendly dissertation on bee stings and venom. Without any encouragement on Tyler’s part, Pyper slipped her hand into his and looked up at him with a beauteous smile.

  Music played through his heart with a joy that was absolute. That’s probably what inspired another idea. “Know what I want to do now?”

  “What’s that, Tyler?” She was openly and completely adoring now. Tyler wanted to rejoice—laugh, shout and dance.

  “I want to teach you the most fun song ever to be played on the piano.”

  “Really?” Her steps stalled. Her eyes went big, like cle
ar blue saucers. “You’d let me actually play your piano? Touch the keys ’n stuff? I’d be so, so careful!”

  “Sure I would. Piano’s need to be respected, but they need to be played, too. After all, that’s the only way they make music.”

  “An’…an’ you’d let me?” Her hero worship was now blatant.

  “Come on over here, sugar beet. I’m gonna teach you how to play Chopsticks.”

  “I love that song!”

  Happy moments passed—with plunked piano keys, laughter and the two of them cuddled side by side on the bench of Tyler’s piano. She was pretty good, too, at catching on to rhythms and melodies. Focused and determined, this bright little girl picked up on Tyler’s instructions with ease.

  Soon enough, activity in the entryway of the great room caught Tyler’s attention. That’s when he saw Amy come through the door, grocery sacks in tow, watching the vignette from a spot just to their right. RuthAnne followed close behind. Amy stood there for a moment, cataloguing the scene, and the look on her face touched Tyler’s heart. Surprise, disbelief, love—for Pyper, and for him—it was all right there in her cobalt eyes.

  “Hey, baby,” she addressed Pyper, setting the sacks on the floor at her feet. “You enjoying a piano lesson from Tyler?”

  Music forgotten, Pyper charged into her mother’s waiting arms. “I got stunged, Mommy!” She backed away just far enough to hold out her leg and point at the bandage. “An’ he had to give me special lotion, and we looked at the stinger, and we sang, and then he taught me piano music. Chopsticks. He says it’s the best song ever for the piano, and I think he’s totally, totally right.”

  Not once did Tyler relinquish his visual hold on Amy. RuthAnne moved past, off to the kitchen with her own stash of food, but Amy riveted him. “I treated it with some calamine to take away the sting. It’s a little swollen, but I don’t think she’s allergic or anything. She’s been a champ. I’m real proud of her.”

  Pyper just glowed, her smile bouncing from him, to Amy, as she swayed happily from side to side.

  Amy remained still, looking at Tyler. RuthAnne, seeming to realize the groceries Amy carried in weren’t about to walk into the kitchen by themselves, lifted them up and slipped quietly away once more. Tyler noticed all this on one level, but on another, he couldn’t help but wonder about one very important thing. He wished he knew what Amy was thinking. And he could only pray it was something positive, because at the moment, she looked shell-shocked.

  ****

  Tyler kept his thoughts to himself until later. That evening, he peeked through the front screen door and discovered Amy relaxing on the porch, swinging gently in her favorite seat as night rode in. A night filled by the sparkling dance of fireflies.

  He left his warmly lit home behind, taking quiet steps onto the porch just in time to watch Amy stretch her arms over her head, pulling her body into a long, languorous line. She crossed her ankles as she leaned back against the plush cushions of the swing once more and issued a happy sigh. She, too, watched the lighting bug display. The insects floated throughout the yard, sparking and fading, sparking and fading.

  Tyler settled next to her carefully, not wanting to disturb her, yet at the same time wanting to be close. “You seem rested. Relaxed.”

  Amy looked at him with a soft curve to her lips that swept against his senses. “I have to tell you, I haven’t felt this good in over a year. I feel…” she stumbled over word choices. “I feel…” She came up dry again.

  “Safe?”

  “Yeah. That’s part of it.”

  “Content?”

  Her skin went flush with a rise in color he detected even under the bath of yellow-gold light from the hanging light above them. “You could say that, too.”

  He chuckled lightly and settled his arm along the back of the swing. Nudging the wooden floorboards at his feet, Tyler set the swing into motion.

  “It’s just that, my life is kind of a sun up ’til sundown marathon session. Being able to rest feels really good.”

  He watched her intently, prompting her without words.

  “I’m not complaining. Not in the least. If I didn’t have the marathon session, I wouldn’t have Pyp. She gives me so much joy that I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, trade a single teardrop or a single exhausted moment with her.”

  Amy closed her eyes and breathed in deep. The rise and fall of her chest told him clearly that she soaked up this moment and captured it in her system. He longed for that for her. He wanted God’s love, and peace to flow and soothe— thereby healing an ages-old wound.

  But Tyler didn’t press; he was content to let her rest, and savor the silence. He knew her well enough—and trusted the strength of their relationship enough—to allow her to unwind and reveal herself at her own pace.

  For the time being, Tyler tipped his head back and relaxed into the evening as well, smiling to himself as the realization occurred that she wasn’t the only one basking in contentment right now.

  The screen door squeaked and banged. Small, fast-moving feet padded across the porch, disappearing into the soft grass just beyond the porch. Next to him, Amy chuckled. She didn’t even open her eyes. “This has got to be a small taste of heaven.”

  Tyler rejoiced in the way she simply surrendered herself, and her daughter, to a gorgeous spring night in the south.

  “Mommy! Mommy, look!” Pyper’s none-too-subtle summons jarred Amy to attention, but she smiled at the reason for the interruption.

  Tyler followed her line of sight. Pyper had spotted the darting, flashing fireflies.

  Excitement gone, Pyper suddenly went unnaturally still. She turned toward them fast, brows knit tight. Her alarm was plain to see, despite the lengthening shadows and the encroaching darkness of night. “Are they good bugs or bad bugs?”

  “Those are good bugs, Pyper. They’re fireflies, and they won’t sting you,” Tyler reassured her. Down here, we call ’em lightning bugs, too. They just light up, and float around and play. In fact, they’re a lot like you, sugar beet.”

  Relaxed now, Pyper giggled. She held her arms wide, playing and dashing, trying to touch the insects. Framed in the rippling grass of the dusk-shadowed yard; her face shone as brightly as the bevy of lighting bugs that floated through the air all around her.

  “I’ve got a mason jar or two.” Tyler made ready to stand. “Want to catch yourself a couple of ’em?”

  Pyper stopped on a dime. “Oh, no, Tyler. No.” She shook her head, blonde curls shaking and bouncing.

  The answer took Tyler by surprise. “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause then they wouldn’t be happy anymore.” Her face was so sad. So empathetic. “I just want to watch them. Right here.” For emphasis she pointed at the yard in a gesture of hard punctuation. “This is where they belong. They’re so pretty! I love them!”

  “Know what? You’re absolutely right.” Tyler leaned close, curved his arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Do you have any idea at all what a wonderful child you’ve raised?”

  Following a lengthy look into his eyes—one he took in with deliberate, steady calm— Amy was the one who toed the floorboards to initiate a gentle swinging motion. Tyler enjoyed the gentle sway, the comfortable squeak of the chunky metal chains.

  “Thanks. She owns my heart.” Her voice was husky. “We’re a team—it’s me and her taking on the world, that’s for sure.” She took a breath and turned toward him. “And thanks for the way you stepped in and helped Pyper this morning. That episode was tough on her, in a number of ways. You scored a big round of points in the trust department, and that means the world to me.”

  “She was scared to death.” And so different from Pyper in the here and now. Presently she squealed with delight and raced across the grounds, oblivious to everything but innocence and the joy to be found in nature.

  “More of how you might react than the bee sting.”

  “I could tell.” That statement left them at a small impasse before Tyler moved forward. “It shook you up
, too. Beyond her getting stung.”

  “Yeah, it did.” She closed her eyes; tipped her head back. Her rough tone belied the depth of her feelings. “I wish I could play you a movie from the day I left Mark. I keep thinking about it.” She spoke quietly—resigned, it seemed. “I want to explain; I want you to know. It’s just not an easy thing to verbalize.”

  Pyper trooped up the stairs, breathing heavy. She flounced into place on the swing—right between them. “I’m gettin’ tired.”

  “You want to go inside?” Amy asked.

  Pyper shrugged. “Ruthie is watchin’ TV, I think. I hear her favorite game show.” Pyper’s eyes lit up. “She’s teaching me how to crochet!” She launched from the swing. “I’m gonna go in and practice. See ya’!”

  In a blaze of motion punctuated by bouncing blonde curls, Pyper pulled open the screen door and ran inside.

  For a moment, Tyler went with the silence. After a while, though, he resumed their conversation, unable to fathom the nightmare Amy, and Pyper, had lived through. “I’m gonna be real direct right now.” He waited, searching her face until he was sure he had her acceptance.

  Amy nodded hesitantly.

  He reached down just far enough to stroke her shoulder, lightly, repeatedly. “What did he do to you? Don’t sugar coat it. Don’t hide from it, or push it aside. I want to know you again, Amy. All of you. The good stuff and the bad.”

  Words didn’t come; instead, she bowed her head. Her shoulders shook, and it took mere seconds for him to realize she was crying. Breaking down, in fact. Tyler gave her space to shatter, and absorb the unspoken support of his touch, while she reassembled. She drew up her knees and tucked against the side of the swing—like she had the other night. She wiped her cheeks with her hands. Her hair slid against the back of his hand, silky and soft. Lavender scent, the last traces of her perfume, lifted to him.