Serendipity's Footsteps

by Suzanne Nelson

  “They must’ve fallen out when the heel broke,” Ray said hurriedly, then cleared her throat. “So…the message on the paper hidden in the shoe. What does it say?”

  “It’s a Hebrew prayer,” Dalya said. “Translated, it says: ‘May it be Your will, God, our God and the God of our fathers, that You should lead us in peace, and direct our steps in peace, and guide us in peace, and support us in peace, and cause us to reach our destination in life, joy, and peace.’ ”

  Ray’s mouth puckered as if she was getting ready to sneer, but then, with some struggle, she checked herself. “Too bad it never happens that way.”

  “It didn’t used to be easy for me to believe, either.” Dalya nodded. “Peace was less of a constant in my life, and more of a destination. But I did find it.”

  “I always thought those shoes had a peaceful look,” Pinny said. She peered into Dalya’s face. “So we did good? Bringing them to you?”

  “Better than good,” she whispered, losing her voice to tears. “Much, much better.” She took a deep breath, letting Pinny help her to her feet. “So, I think we all have stories to tell tonight. And maybe now it’s finally time to tell mine.” She smiled at Pinny. “I want to hear about your mama’s shoes. Shall I tell you my story? And then you can tell me yours.”

  “I’d love that,” Pinny said, and Ray nodded.

  Dalya led them through the back of the shop and outside, where they tucked themselves under her Tree of Lost Soles. Then, slowly, holding the shoes that filled her with that same lovely, warm sensation she’d had hours before, when she’d felt something wonderful coming but wasn’t sure what, Dalya told their story. There was still sorrow in their tale, but this time in the telling, there was no ending. Only a celebration of their continued journey, from loss into newfound life.

  RAY

  Ray listened to the words under the city’s canopy of night. First Dalya’s, and then Pinny’s. They fluttered about the tree, swooping in and out of its branches. She imagined them settling on the tips and heels of the shoes, maybe giving them a bit of their own lost stories back. This time when Pinny read the story of the invisible princess, Ray smiled. It was a relief, letting her face do what came naturally, instead of forcing it to harden like she’d always done before. It was a relief, too, that Pinny didn’t share details about Smokebush, that she skipped that part of everything, focusing on her mama instead.

  Listening to Pinny and Dalya made Ray lonely, though, because she wasn’t a part of any of it. Not that she deserved to be. She’d had her chance with Pinny’s story, and she’d mocked it. Not out loud…no. But she’d tossed it under a “lame” label in her mind. Dalya’s interest was so avid, so genuine, that Pinny gained confidence as she talked. Her voice, garbled at first, grew sharper, clearer. Soon, Dalya and Pinny were holding hands, heads bent together, connected by their stories and, even more, by their faith in the magic that had brought them together. A faith that Ray admired from a distance, but couldn’t seem to grasp. It was as if Pinny’s dependence on her was wavering, and Ray felt herself missing Pinny’s company, even as she sat right beside her.

  As Pinny reached the end of her story, her voice broke.

  “Now I have Mama’s shoes back,” she said quietly. “And no Mama.”

  Dalya slipped her arm around Pinny. “And I have my shoes,” she said. “And no Mama. But…we still have their stories to tell, and their love in the words.”

  Pinny caressed the silver stilettos in her lap.

  “Look.” She held one up to Dalya. “You can see the fingerprint of her foot. There on the bottom.”

  Dalya nodded. “The shoes remember her, too.”

  Pinny smiled at that, and Ray hoped it was a sign she was working through her grief in her own way. Would she ever be able to fully understand what had happened to her mother? Ray didn’t know. But maybe it didn’t matter. Understanding the world’s heartbreaks didn’t lessen the pain of them. Ray knew that better than anybody. So why had she worked so hard to kill Pinny’s fantasy about her mother?

  She’d been jealous. Jealous that Pinny could escape to her own happy make-believes when Ray never could. She’d been wrong…so wrong to want to take them from Pinny. She should’ve been protecting them instead.

  Repulsion swept over her. She was sick of herself. Sick of her own cruelty, but maybe—a barb of fear hooked her—she was damned to be trapped in it forever.

  Right now Dalya’s rings weighed against her thigh, warm in her pocket. She’d had the chance earlier to give them up, but she hadn’t. She was still trying to save her sorry self. Without the rings, she’d have nothing. No way to get the money she needed to start over. And of course, she’d have to leave Dalya’s. That wasn’t even a question.

  But she’d be the lowliest kind of scum to take the rings now that she knew who they belonged to, what they meant. Stop it, she chided herself. Don’t let it mess with your head. You need them more than she does. Don’t feel, don’t think. Survive….

  She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder.

  “Ray,” Dalya said kindly. “We’ve been telling our stories all night long, but we haven’t heard yours yet.”

  Ray recoiled as their eyes settled on her in expectation. She thought about confessing, returning Dalya’s rings. But instead, she shrugged. “My story doesn’t matter.”

  “I want to hear it,” Dalya said.

  “No you don’t,” she said. “Not really.” She was the intruder here. She stood up, fighting back tears, and looked toward the shop. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just completely wiped.”

  “Of course.” Dalya stood slowly, then leveled her gaze on both of them. “I do have questions. About who you left behind in Texas. I’m sure they’ll be worried. We’ll need to get in touch with them—”

  “No,” Pinny blurted, and then her face sagged, the gray pall returning. “I have to go back. I know that. But…please. I’m…I’m not ready.”

  Pinny’s voice was so desperate that Dalya’s eyes fogged with concern. “It’s all right.” She pressed her hand to Pinny’s cheek. “You’re not going anywhere for now.” She studied the sky, lost in thought. “It may be for selfish reasons, but I’m not ready to part with either of you yet. Not after everything that’s happened tonight. So I suppose…my questions can wait.” She smiled. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

  “Thank you,” Ray said.

  Pinny nodded. “Wait. I have to do something.” She lifted the red Mary Janes from around her neck and hung them carefully over the lowest branch of the Tree of Lost Soles. She gave them a tender pat. “They like it here,” she said. “They want to stay.”

  Dalya touched their tips gently, setting them rocking on the branch. “I’d like that, too. But you can visit them tomorrow. They’ll be here.”

  Tomorrow. Ray shuddered at the word. She wasn’t sure she’d be here then. Best to run before Dalya asked more questions, before she figured out where Ray and Pinny had come from and how to get them back. The only thing keeping her here tonight was her exhaustion, and the fact that she had no idea where to go, or what to do yet. She’d sleep on it, and decide on things in the morning.

  Dalya guided them inside and up a set of back stairs to a small apartment above the shop.

  “Here you are,” she said, leading them into a guest room with twin beds. Then she left to let them get settled.

  Pinny gratefully crawled into her bed, for once forgetting her nighttime routine and leaving her bulging backpack on the floor. She was asleep in a matter of seconds. But Ray perched warily on the edge of her bed, her body tense, until a gentle tap on the door made her start.

  Dalya peeked her head around the corner, then came to sit next to Ray.

  “I thought you might need some help undressing,” she said. “It might be difficult with your cast.”

  Ray glanced at the floor-length nightgown Dalya laid out on the bedspread for her. Better to stay ready to run. “I’m fine sleeping in my clothes,” she said. “But…I co
uld use some help untying my shoes.”

  “Of course.” Dalya smiled. “What interesting accessorizing.” She fingered the safety pins. “I have a client who would love something like this.”

  Ray winced as Dalya slid the shoes and socks from her feet. As Ray had known she would, the moment Dalya saw her feet, she gasped and pulled back.

  “Darling girl,” she said, “what happened to your feet?”

  Ray shrugged. “It’s just part of my story. Not a good part.”

  Dalya looked at her for a long moment and then, with her weathered hand, smoothed Ray’s hair from her forehead. Ray’s usual response would’ve been to cower from the touch, but Dalya’s fingers were warm and feathery light against her brow, and she thought that this must be the way mothers touched their children while they slept.

  “You know”—Dalya looked out the window at her tree—“ever since the war, I never could stand the sight of abandoned shoes.” She nodded toward the window. “That’s how the Tree of Lost Soles was born. I was walking down Columbus Avenue with my husband years ago, right after our daughter was born, and I saw this pair of white baby shoes lying in the gutter, drowning in sewer water. It nearly broke my heart that anyone could abandon something so full of memories. I had to bring them home with me.” She laughed. “Aaron must’ve thought I was crazy, but he never said so. I tucked those shoes into our closet, but then I brought home a pair of loafers I found on a boulder in Central Park, and some evening shoes I found on the steps of the Guggenheim. Before I knew it, I didn’t have room in the closet for my own clothes and shoes anymore.” She shrugged. “That’s when I started hanging the lost shoes on the tree. As a testament to the people who walked in them, and their stories.”

  She patted Ray’s knee and stood up, then turned back in the doorway. “So, you found my shoes in that Pennypinch store Pinny mentioned, then you threw them away.” Her gaze was curious, unwavering. “Why?”

  Ray plucked at the bedspread, thinking over the question before answering. “I hated them for not being able to give me what I wanted.”

  “What was it you wanted?” Dalya asked, her brown eyes patient and open.

  Ray stared out the window at the lightening sky. “To be loved,” she whispered.

  “Ah.” Dalya smiled. “And do you see? You got what you wanted.” She nodded toward Pinny, who was snoring lightly in her bed. “Maybe not love from the person you expected, but love, just the same. And isn’t it a blessing to have it, in any form?”

  She didn’t wait for Ray to answer but, instead, whispered good night, closing the door. Ray collapsed on the bed, blowing out her breath. Yes, love was a blessing, but it couldn’t feed her or keep her safe. It couldn’t erase what had happened with Carter, couldn’t stop her from getting sent back to Texas. No, she’d need a lot more than love to survive. She sighed, feeling the pull of sleep. Before she gave in to it, she glanced out the window one last time and saw Pinny’s red Mary Janes dancing from their branch in the first, fresh breeze of morning.

  RAY

  Ray woke up to late-afternoon light pouring through the window, the Tree of Lost Soles casting lacy shadows on the floor. She had the grogginess that comes with sleeping long and hard at the wrong time of day, and it took her a few minutes to orient herself.

  Pinny’s bed was empty, her backpack gone. The bedrooms were so still Ray guessed she was alone upstairs. Her adrenaline surged. If Pinny and Dalya were down in the shop, this was her chance to leave.

  She could sneak out through the back, pawn the rings, and be sitting in some diner blocks away, scouring ads for apartments and jobs, in no time.

  The cast made her clumsy with her shoes, and she ended up leaving them untied, but finally, she was tiptoeing down the stairs. Four steps to freedom. Three, two…

  “Ray?” Pinny’s voice came from the shop. “Sleepyhead! You took forever to wake up!” Her bright face appeared around the doorframe. “Come on!”

  Ray let Pinny pull her into the shop. Frustration swelled inside her, but so did relief. Traitor, she chided herself. You’re an idiot to stay. Just tell them you’re leaving.

  But Dalya’s smile was too welcoming, Pinny’s was too hopeful, and the smell of breakfast too enticing to resist.

  “There you are.” Dalya handed her a plate overflowing with food. “Pinny and I have been awake for hours. How did you sleep?”

  “Um…gr—”

  “We have a surprise!” Pinny cried before Ray could finish. “Wait till you see!”

  Ray looked doubtfully at Dalya, but she only smiled.

  “You sit here and wait.” Pinny settled her into a chair, then hurried behind the sales counter and came back carrying a large basin of water.

  “What’s that for?” Ray asked skeptically while she nibbled her food.

  Pinny’s smile swelled as she put the basin down in front of Ray’s chair. “We’re making you some shoes.”

  “Oh, come on. Why waste your time? I won’t wear them.” Ray sniggered, then regretted it when Pinny’s face fell. “Sorry,” she tried again, her voice gentler this time. “I just…I don’t need new shoes.”

  “You may not need them, but your feet do.” Dalya squeezed Ray’s shoulder, then added softly, “I don’t know what’s happened to you. But…you’re safe here. Let us do this for you. Please. It will be all right.”

  Safe. Ray rolled her eyes. When had she ever felt that way? But there was a hushed reassurance in Dalya’s tone—the sort of tone used to keep nightmares from cradles—and some leftover child-part of herself wanted so badly to believe it, and trust it. If Dalya was lying, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt any worse than anyone else’s lies had.

  So, as Pinny slipped off her shoes and socks excitedly, Ray sank into resignation. Didn’t she owe Pinny this much, after what she’d put her through? “Fine,” she mumbled.

  “Yes!” Pinny cried. “You’ll love them. You will. You’ll see.” She pointed to the water. “First, your feet need a bath.”

  “Right, ’cause I left my Odor-Eaters in Texas,” Ray said, trying for lightness. But her heart scuttled as she uncurled her feet from under her. Back in Jaynis, her bare feet had worn out their shock value years ago, and few people ever got close enough to see the scars in all their hideous glory. Here, with unforgiving sunlight pouring through the shopwindows, she felt like Frankenstein reborn. She hurriedly dunked her feet under the suds to hide them.

  She’d worried that Dalya might start with prying questions. But for the moment, Dalya was busy showing Pinny the ins and outs of the shop. A crisp peppermint scent wafted from the basin, and the water made Ray’s skin tingle refreshingly. She leaned back, her feet cocooned in warmth, letting herself enjoy the sensation.

  Relieved not to have to talk, she watched as Dalya gave Pinny a tour of the tools she used. Pinny listened raptly, repeating the names of the tools to commit them to memory. When Dalya handed Pinny a tool called a shave and had her try it on a men’s dress shoe, Pinny worked carefully, trimming the excess leather Dalya pointed out.

  “That’s fine work,” Dalya said, inspecting the shoe. “We make a good team.”

  Pinny nodded. “I like this job. Making shoes. Way better than flipping bug burgers at Fricasweet’s.”

  “Is that where you worked in Texas?” Dalya asked.

  Pinny frowned. “I’m going to. When I go back. They’re making me. Because it’s something I can do. But no one asked if I wanted to. People always forget to ask.”

  Dalya’s forehead crinkled. “Who’s going to make you?”

  Pinny shrugged. “Mrs. Danvers. Mr. Sands. The people who take care of me.”

  “What do you want?” Dalya asked.

  “I want to take care of myself.” Her shoulders sagged as she stared at the floor. “I thought I could. Before. Except I’m…I’m not so good at it.” She ran her hand over the shoe. “But I’m allowed to want More, though. This is the kind of More I want.”

  And why not? Ray thought. Pinny deserved a life s
he liked as much as anybody. What sucked was that nobody ever gave her the chance to get it.

  Dalya studied Pinny’s face, lost in thought, then she looked at Ray. “Well, Apprentice Pinny, let’s get back to our number-one customer, shall we?”

  Pinny’s shoulders straightened with importance at hearing her new title, and she sat down on a stool in front of Ray with a towel.

  “Feet out,” she ordered. “Time for your pedicure.”

  Panic racked Ray’s core, and she yanked her feet out of the water, nearly tipping the basin.

  “No,” she choked, her breath ragged. “No way. I…I can’t.” No one had ever touched her feet…not since the doctors, the scars, the pain….

  “It’s my rule, I’m afraid,” Dalya said matter-of-factly, keeping her eyes on some receipts at her counter. “The beauty of a shoe grows from the foot it belongs to. It’s time for your foot to remember its beauty.”

  Ray shivered as the dampness from her feet seeped into her jeans. There was no way…But then Pinny met her eyes, her smile encouraging. “Nail polish is easy. It’s what sisters do. It won’t hurt. I promise.”

  Maybe it was the certainty in Pinny’s voice, or the sweetness she gave to “sisters,” or how, ever since she’d arrived here, Ray had longed more and more for the words she’d spoken to Pinny, about family and friendship, to be true. Maybe it was that she wanted to allow herself this one morning of sunshine, peace, and safety before she was alone again for good. Whatever the reason, Ray closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and settled her trembling feet in Pinny’s waiting hands.

  Pinny’s hands were butterfly wings fluttering over her skin, alighting here and there with peppermint oil, mapping out the welts and ridges with the tenderest touch. Then there were the cool strokes of the polish sweeping her toenails, and the anticipation she felt wondering how it would look. As golden light soaked through her eyelids, Ray gave herself over to being soothed, being helped, being cared for.

  It was only when Pinny whispered “Done” that Ray’s relaxation jolted into fear again. She reluctantly opened her eyes, but the repulsion she’d expected at the feet she was sure would look pathetic never came.