Hearts Unfold

by Karen Welch

  Emily shook her head, violently this time. “No! You can't fall in love with someone you don't even know!”

  “Maybe not,” Angela paused, handing Emily a napkin to wipe her streaming eyes. “But your mother did. Do you remember the story of how your parents met?” A venerable story-teller, Angela now had Emily's attention, and she went on gently. “It was at graduation. A group of us from the conservatory had gone together. J.D. was seated on stage with the other faculty and Lilianne said she thought immediately how handsome he was, so distinguished in his robes. Then she noticed that the cuff of his trousers was torn and his shoes were caked with mud. She said she made up her mind right then she would have to marry him.” She laughed softly, remembering her own reaction to her friend's announcement. “J.D. said, once they'd actually met of course, that he was no match for such a force of nature, so he had no choice but to let her sweep him off his feet.”

  Emily had stopped crying, caught up in her parent's love story. Angela took her hand across the table. “Maybe you don't fall in love until you've known someone for at least a little while, but I believe you can fall in love with the idea of someone. Especially when you're watching them draw every breath for hours on end.” Tears welled again and Emily's chin trembled. “That's how it was? You sat there all night, watching over him, afraid he might die at any moment?” Angela stood and took Emily in her arms, hugging her close. “You saved his life, Em. Of course you feel some attachment to him. What makes you think there's anything wrong with that?”

  “But I didn't! I didn't save his life. He just wasn't supposed to die that night. All I did was keep him safe for a little while. I believe with all my heart that God meant for him to live. I just don't understand why I had to be the one to help him. I promised myself I'd let him go, but everywhere I look he's there.” Her tears spent, she sighed wearily.

  “You've always had such strong faith, since you were just a little girl. But faith doesn't make us superhuman, dear. Quite the opposite. Faith acknowledges that we need something greater, outside ourselves. Don't deny yourself the right to grieve, Em. Not for your parents and not for Stani. Take advantage of the comfort that comes from your faith.” She looked pointedly into Emily's eyes. “And from the people who love you.”

  Returning to her chair, Angela studied the tear-ravaged face opposite. “You look so much like your father, I'm afraid we overlook the possibility that you're more like your mother on the inside. Behind that beautiful, calm smile, she was a woman of enormous passion. Like quicksilver, one minute in the clouds, the next in the doldrums. It made her a great musician; but as her friend, I admit I had trouble keeping up at times. I suspect the same may be true of you, very high and then again very low?”

  A slow, sad smile appeared. “I try hard to be practical, like Pop. He taught me so much that’s worth knowing. But I get caught in my own whirlwind at times. Do you think I'll ever learn to just take things in stride?”

  “You already do. But don't try to take so much in one stride. Give yourself a chance to be human. You're only twenty years old, Emily. You should expect a little whirlwind now and then. And promise me you won't try to handle it all alone?”

  “I promise.” She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and smoothed her hair from her face, squaring her shoulders. “Now, shouldn't we explain things to Lil? I'm sure she thinks I've lost my mind.”

  Mentally shaking her head, Angela smiled at the swiftness of Emily’s recovery. “Let me talk to her first. I'm afraid she can be something of a whirlwind herself.”

  In a matter of minutes, Angela returned with Lil, whose wide eyes searched Emily's face as if seeing her for the first time. “I'm so sorry, Em. If I'd known, I would never have gone on like that. I just can't believe it was you who found him. You must have been scared to death!”

  “Pretty scared. But Lil, there's something I want to know. What did you and Stani Moss talk about that night at the party?”

  “Not much really. Music a little. Mostly we just stood there watching the crowd. Then when I got ready to leave, after he gave me his autograph, he told me he'd be on the radio on Christmas Eve. Told me to be sure to listen.” Lil seemed to hesitate, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Then something kind of weird happened, at least weird for me. I shook his hand. And then I don't know why, but I said 'Take care of yourself, Stani Moss.' Then even weirder, in a place like that, I said 'God bless you' and I wished him a Merry Christmas.”

  Emily was smiling, a look of satisfaction in her eyes. “Thanks, Lil.”

  “But you spent all that time with him. I was only with him for maybe an hour.”

  “You talked to him, Lil. I never even heard him speak really. You know him much better than I ever will. I think you did something very important for him. I bet he'll never forget meeting you that night.”

  “Have you heard from him, a thank you or anything?”

  “No, not from him. Just a letter from his manager, right after it happened. I'm sure I won't hear from him. He doesn't know anything about me. I'm just glad to know he's recovered.” For a moment Emily seemed to be remembering. “Now if we're going to make that movie, we'd better hurry. And I want the biggest popcorn they have. I'm starving!”

  Later that night, Emily checked in at the restaurant. Saturday was buffet night, but she was hungry and not much in the mood to be alone. She found Joey in the kitchen, supervising the trays of pasta and pizza as the wait staff kept up the flow to the big buffet in the dining room. At the sight of her, his face became suddenly redder than usual.

  “Emily, you don't have to work tonight. You should just get some rest.”

  She was staring into the vast refrigerator. Taking a carrot, she went to the sink. “I'm fine, Joey. I swear, I think you Salvatores are telepathic. Don't tell me your mother made a special trip down here to warn you I might fall to pieces on the job tonight?” As she washed her carrot, she looked over her shoulder and grinned.

  “She's out there, hostessing. She didn't say that exactly, just that we should treat you with a little extra TLC.” He was busily twisting dough, laying out a pan of bread sticks. “Just sit. I'll fix you whatever you want to eat.”

  Climbing on a bar stool, she leaned an elbow on the steel counter, munching the end of the carrot. “Okay, I want a huge antipasto and half of those bread sticks when they're done.”

  Joey grinned, slamming the oven door. “That's what I like, a girl with a healthy appetite. So are you okay? Lil said you had some kind of meltdown. Something about that violin player she met last Christmas.” He began to pull things from the refrigerator, working with his usual meticulous ease.

  “I'm fine. You don't need to worry. I was just surprised to learn Lil had met him. See, I met him the next day.”

  “Mom said you saved his life.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “You guys don't waste time, do you? I didn't really save his life. I just got him out of the storm. And that's enough talk about that. Were you at the party that night?”

  “Yeah, I saw him, if it's the same guy Lil was talking to. I didn't think he was anything too special. Looked like some rich kid, fancy clothes, long hair. Not even very tall.”

  In spite of herself, Emily grinned. Joey was sensitive about his own lack of height, and she had always felt uncomfortably tall in his presence. “I see. Well, I'm sure we won't be seeing him again. It was just an amazing thing that both of us met him. Small world, I guess.”

  “There you go, madam. Your bread will be out of the oven in just a minute.” He set the platter in front of her, dribbling oil and vinegar over the whole with a skillful sweep of his hands. “You know, Emily, there are lots of guys out there who'd give their right arms for a girl like you. You'll see, you'll forget all about this violin player when a real man comes along.”

  “But that's just it, Joey. I don't need a man, real or not. I have my life all mapped out. My farm, my house and me. As soon as I'm through training, I'll be all set. Why can't everyone understand that I'm happy by myself
? And why can't they stop worrying about me?” She stuffed a big forkful in her mouth.

  “Because you're so special to us, Em. We need to fuss over you. At least some of us do.” He set a basket of bread sticks next to her plate. “It's all we can do for you.” The look in his eyes, which were level with hers as he stood beside her stool, said much more.

  “Thanks, Joey. You're the best god-brother a girl could have.”

  He flinched. “At least no other guy'll ever have that title. But seriously, if you ever need anything, I'm your man. And I'd be happy to trade in that title if you decide you might like to try a short, very talented Italian chef. At least you'd never go hungry.” Picking up a bread stick, he bit off one end.

  “I'll remember. Now what's on the dessert menu tonight?”

  Chapter Thirty

  For the better part of her nurse's training, Emily was busy and content. She had found nursing to be an easy fit once she got past the inevitable grief of losing her first patient. She discovered she especially enjoyed working in the emergency room, where every second mattered and she had to rely on her instincts as well as her knowledge. During the months she spent at the University hospital, studying and training, she made friends with nurses and doctors who encouraged her to join the ER staff full time after graduation. It was tempting; she loved the hard work and being part of a team.

  But she never lost sight of the need to find work closer to the farm; a job that would allow her to schedule her time so that eventually she could restart the garden and work around the growing season. She was single-minded in her determination to make the farm pay for itself and to prove that she could make a successful reality of her dream.

  Emily spent hours calculating what it would take to support herself and run the garden. She read books on truck farming the way other people read novels, investigated new methods of irrigation and fertilization, studied seed catalogs as if they were textbooks. When she could get home for a few days, she visited with her neighbors, talking with other farmers to get advice on reviving the fallow land. She was glad to have their practical counsel and gratified to know they respected her enough to offer their help when she was ready to begin.

  The months spent preparing for her future gave her a stronger sense of herself. She was confident in her decisions, content with the life she felt she had been destined for. She believed she had grown into the kind of strong, giving person her parents had always encouraged her to be. Though her emotions still sometimes caught her off guard, she hoped she had learned to control the tendency to run too quickly from high to low. And she was satisfied that she no longer harbored such romantic ideas regarding her brief encounter with Stani Moss. Jack and Angela had been right in saying she needed time to get over the emotional ordeal of his rescue. Now she could look back at their meeting with appreciation for the chance to help someone in need, just as she looked at her contact with the patients under her care. She had finally learned to give the best possible care without giving away something of herself as well.

  As Emily looked around the restaurant the night of her graduation, she was amazed to see so many faces from home. They had turned out to see her get her cap and pin, and now gathered at the party Angela had tried to surprise her with. Jack and the McConnells, including James, along with at least a dozen others, had driven the two hours to join in her celebration. She had to acknowledge that she was far from the orphan she had once considered herself. Rather, she was part of a sizable family, the members of which seemed intent upon outdoing one another in taking pride in her accomplishments. Though she thought of her parents, hoping somehow they knew what she had managed to do so far without them, she recognized that she had no reason to feel alone.

  However, she cautioned herself against feeling too satisfied too soon. So far, she had only laid the groundwork that would bring her closer to realizing her dream. The next year would tell if she would be able to bring the farm back to life, if she had what it took to work the hours and wait for the rewards. And while at the moment she was content with the idea of living alone, when she was there on the farm, with no one to encourage her or work beside her, would she have the dedication to stick with it?

  If she failed, she told herself, it would not be through hesitation. She was about to jump head-long into the dream she had conceived that Christmas two and a half years ago. Now the real test lay just around the corner, in the furrowed fields behind the house. She had prayed for guidance, found friends who could help her, and dedicated herself to preparing for this moment. Whatever challenges lay in her path, she tried to tell herself that she welcomed them, would face them with all the skill and strength she had; but in her heart, she knew she had set herself on a path that would require all her faith and courage as well, just to make a start.

  The first enemy proved to be the weather. Emily had planted a small plot, just enough to test some of the new varieties and keep her own table in produce for the season. The rain had been abundant in the early spring, but by the time she set her little plants, the earth was hard and dry. She hauled countless buckets of water, set up sprinklers on long green hoses from the pump, and still came home to wilted vines and drooping plants. For the summer, she had accepted a part-time position in the small hospital that sat on the line between three counties, some twenty miles away. She rose early, watered, rushed to work and returned to find the sun had scorched her garden.

  To add to her disappointing start, the water pump, which had been nursed along for the past two years, finally gave up under the strain. For the first time, she was forced to draw money from her trust fund in order to purchase a new one. While Mr. Harris at the bank assured her it was a small percentage of her principal, none the less, she worried. She called Harriet Wilson at the special-duty agency where she was to begin work in the fall. If there was an assignment for her sooner, she would take it.

  The job had been an unexpected blessing. From a fellow nursing student, she'd learned of the small agency and submitted an application, never dreaming she'd be considered just out of training. The agency provided nurses for assignments to hospital and nursing home patients who wanted and could afford round-the-clock private staff. The scheduling was flexible and would be perfect for her needs.

  When she was called for an interview, she was careful to make it clear that she would be available whenever needed. At the same time, she explained that she had responsibilities at home, particularly between the months of April and September. At the conclusion of the interview the agency director asked her pointedly what sort of responsibilities she had at her age.

  “I have a farm,” she explained. She could see the interested sparkle in the woman's eyes, so she went on to explain that she had chosen to go into nursing for a somewhat unusual reason. She hoped it would make it possible for her to follow in her father's footsteps, raising produce to sell locally in the valley. She planned to work to support herself and the farm, at least in the beginning.

  “Miss Haynes, I find that commendable, if not downright remarkable. Why don't I stipulate in your contract that you have the option of turning down any assignment offered during those months, and we won't hold it against you? That is as long as you promise to share the odd melon or eggplant with me.” Harriet's eyes twinkled and for a moment Emily thought she might be making fun of her. She was at a loss for a response, but the older woman went on. “I'm offering you the position, Emily, if you want to come to work for me. Any young woman enterprising enough to do what you're doing should make just the kind of nurse we need. These patients will demand nothing less than your total dedication and given what you've told me about yourself, I'm confident you'll be able to give it.”

  Emily had hoped to start work after the growing season, but now that the drought had all but ended that for her, she was ready to begin. It would mean spending weeks away from home, but the pay was excellent and the jobs would be interesting she had no doubt.

  Her first assignments were brief, a surgical patient who only needed
her for a week, then a man who'd suffered a stroke and entered a nursing home after a few days. She was at home long enough to mourn the dead garden and wilted flower beds, as August drew to a scorching close. With James’s help, she dug out the dried carcasses of the plants, vowing to try again, hoping to make enough money over the winter to put in proper irrigation next spring.

  Her next assignment lasted two weeks and was truly a test of her skill. A young man, not much older than herself, injured in a motorcycle accident; there was little to do but watch him as he lay in a coma. Severe head trauma and numerous broken bones left slim hope for a meaningful recovery. His mother, dreading the worst, was afraid to be left alone in the room with him. Emily did her job, knowing that at least her presence served to ease the mother's fears. The poor boy never knew she was there, and when he died quietly, she was relieved for him. In some cases, she had learned, death was the only healing to be hoped for.

  By mid-September, the leaves had begun to color. The brutal heat had given way to a golden autumn and Emily vowed to put the summer's disappointment behind her. At Lil's invitation, she traveled to the conservatory for the first chamber concert of the semester, spending the night at Angela's and returning home on Saturday morning. Waiting for her in the mailbox was an envelope, white vellum with a Manhattan address on the flap.