by Karen White
Without being asked, Jewel sat on the bed next to Caroline and held out the bread. Unable to deny the hunger pangs that had been hitting her at regular intervals for over an hour, Caroline took a wheat roll and bit into it. “Did you bring any butter?”
Jewel shook her head. “There wasn’t any on the table—I guess your mom doesn’t believe in it or something.”
Caroline rolled her eyes and took another bite. “Thanks anyway.”
“I also brought these. I figure they must be important.” Jewel opened her hand to display the four pills Caroline’s mother had put on the table. “I’ve never met anyone who’s had a transplant before.”
Caroline stared at the pills suspiciously. “Did my mother send you in here?”
Jewel shook her head. “They’re busy cleaning up. The smell of that smoothie was going to make me puke, so I figured I’d come see you instead.” She picked up her own bread roll with her free hand and took a bite.
Caroline grabbed the pills and started popping them one by one, followed by a gulp of iced tea, until they were gone.
Jewel looked at her with somber eyes. “What are those for?”
Caroline leaned back on outstretched arms. “So my body doesn’t treat the heart as a foreign object and reject it. The other pills are to counteract the side effects of the antirejection drugs.” There was something about the girl that made her easy to talk to. Caroline thought it might have been her eyes, and the way they reminded her so much of Shelby. Or maybe it was the open attitude Jewel had about her that made her seem so nonjudgmental. Or maybe it was because it was easy to talk to someone who didn’t know the whole truth and couldn’t be appalled by it.
They sat for a few minutes on the bed, quietly chewing their bread rolls and listening to the clink of china and silverware from the other side of the door. Jewel finally broke the silence.
“So, are you going to coach me?”
Caroline gave a deep sigh. She wasn’t prepared for this conversation at all. “I haven’t decided.”
Jewel turned to look at her again with those eyes that seemed so much older than her face. “Does your not wanting to do it have anything to do with that scar on your chest?”
The air seemed to thin, and Caroline was left gasping for breath. How could she know? Her hand clutched at the part of her shirt that covered the scar, and she was unable to answer.
Jewel continued: “It’s probably not the scar itself but something else—something that it reminds you of?”
Caroline narrowed her eyes and stared at Jewel. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, either. I just want you to coach me to be a better competitive swimmer.” She leaned back on her arms, imitating the way Caroline had been sitting just a few minutes before. “My mom loved this lady called Eleanor Roosevelt. She was a president’s wife, you know? And my mom had this book of quotes where she’d cut out her favorite ones and hang them on our refrigerator, or tack them on my bulletin board in my room if she thought I needed it.” She sent Caroline a half smile. “Anyway, her favorite quote was one from Eleanor that said something like, ‘Find the one thing that scares you the most and do it.’ ”
Goose bumps filtered down Caroline’s spine, as if somebody had blown a breath on the back of her neck. It was the same thing Shelby had told her on the day that Caroline had finally found the strength to get up out of her hospital bed and begin her life again.
Caroline cleared her throat, unable to meet Jewel’s eyes. “So what’s that got to do with me?”
Jewel leaned toward Caroline, their foreheads almost touching, and spoke softly. “I’m afraid of the water. And that’s why I have to make the swim team.”
Caroline closed her eyes, seeing the ten-year-old Jewel struggling to bring her mother’s body in to shore. She opened her eyes, gasping for breath as if she had drowned but had somehow found the strength to break above the surface at the last moment. Caroline looked at Jewel and felt the oddest impulse to hug this strange, brave girl. There was something about the set of her shoulders and the firm jut of her jaw that seemed to give Caroline strength, too. Find the one thing that scares you the most and do it.
Caroline wiped her hands over her face and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll coach you. But I’m not getting in the water. I can do a good enough job on the sidelines.”
A look of triumph passed over Jewel’s face. “All right! Can we start Tuesday? School starts on Monday, but I figure I can just start getting up early to get my swimming done before the school bus comes at eight thirty. My dad usually leaves for Rainy Days at seven thirty every weekday—he’s learning the business from Rainy, so he’s there most mornings. I figure we can start at seven thirty-five.”
Caroline stared at Jewel’s eager expression, trying to remember the last time she had felt like that. But all she could recall was the cold numbness that had taken over her body thirteen years before. She smiled wearily. “How about seven forty, just to make sure. And I’ll talk to my mother about keeping it under wraps from your dad.”
Jewel nearly bounced off the bed. “I can’t wait!” She picked up the breadbasket and the empty water glass. “I’ll bring the gelatin powder—I heard somewhere that it’s what swimmers use to give them an extra boost of energy.”
Tucking her knees under her chin, Caroline smiled. “I like cherry flavored, by the way.”
Jewel opened the door and paused for a moment. “Are you not allowed to go in the water because of your heart?”
Caroline paused a moment before answering. “Not exactly. I’m a little more susceptible to infection than most people, so my doctors would want me to swim in a chlorinated pool instead of a lake. But I’m supposed to be as active as the next person. I just choose not to swim anymore.”
Jewel stared at her for a long moment with Shelby’s eyes. “Okay, then. Tuesday morning at seven forty on the dock. There’s a community center with a pool in Truro we can use when the weather gets nasty and when I’m ready to be timed. I figured we can use the lake at first to work on my strokes.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Caroline waved her hand. “Tell my mom I’ll be out in a minute.”
Jewel nodded, then closed the door behind her. Caroline remained where she was, with her forehead pressed against her knees, and wondered what she had just gotten herself into. Ever since she had returned to Hart’s Valley, people had been trying to make her do the things she had long since relegated to the secret place in her heart she had thought sealed forever.
She stood and walked to the bathroom, where she began filling the sink. The water turned a light green as it reached the shirt, and Caroline had a flash of memory of Drew pushing the breadbasket into the glass, almost as if he’d done it on purpose.
Caroline reached her hands under the tepid water, watching her outstretched fingers warp and bend under the ripples caused by the running faucet, until she no longer recognized them as her own.
March 29, 1987
My mom and I are in Atlanta visiting with the Colliers now. We were invited to come for Jude’s piano recital. He’s really amazing. When he sits at the piano and begins playing such beautiful sounds, it’s hard to remember that this is the same boy who was the star quarterback on his football team, is the instigator for the best practical jokes, and loves fast cars. Maybe that’s why everyone loves him—because there’re so many different parts of him to love. That’s what Caroline says, anyway. Sometimes I think she must be jealous of all the attention he receives, but I know she loves him as much as everybody else does. She seems happy enough to walk in his shadow, but I can’t help wonder if sometimes she wishes she could share the spotlight with him, or even stand in it on her own. Her swimming puts her in the spotlight—but not with their mother. It’s not that Mrs. Collier isn’t proud of Caroline and all her trophies; it’s just that she doesn’t understand it. But Caroline’s mother is a musician, and she shares the love of the piano and music with Jude, and that’s what’s ma
de all the difference. Caroline says it doesn’t matter, but I wonder if it’s a lot like having a bruise that you can usually forget about but then it hurts like heck when somebody presses on it.
Jewel heard the sound of a car door slamming next door and jumped up from the bed where she’d been reading. Looking out her bedroom window on the side of the house, she spotted her grandmother’s truck pulled up in the Colliers’ driveway. Quickly stowing the diary under her mattress, she raced from her room and down the stairs, calling out a quick, “I’ll be next door,” to her father’s closed workroom door as she raced outside.
She’d just caught up with her grandmother on the front porch when Mrs. Collier opened the door. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Grandma Rainy. “I can’t wait for you to see this—it’s going to be such a surprise!”
“Oh, boy,” said Rainy. “Can’t imagine what this could be. Last time I saw you this excited you’d just discovered that fast-acting laxative.”
“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Collier said, eyeing Jewel standing behind her grandmother. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
Rainy snorted and followed Mrs. Collier into the house, Jewel tagging along close behind. Mrs. Collier kept talking as they walked. “Drew helped me with this. He started before Caroline came from Atlanta, and just waited for her to leave the house to put on the finishing touches.”
“Where is Caroline?” Jewel addressed the back of Mrs. Collier’s perfectly curled and sprayed hair that looked as if it would take a hurricane to loosen a strand.
“I sent her to the grocery store for some soy milk. I wanted your grandmother here when Caroline got back so we could surprise her together.”
They wound their way through the kitchen to the laundry room and the connecting storeroom that Mrs. Collier explained had once held old furniture and other stuff from before the house’s most recent redecorating. Jewel hadn’t seen the house before, but she thought it now looked a lot like those pictures she saw in the magazines at the doctor’s office. It was pretty, but she couldn’t imagine putting her feet up on any of the sofa cushions to watch a movie.
As they entered the laundry room, Jewel smelled fresh lumber and paint, reminding her of her dad. Mrs. Collier paused by the closed door to the storeroom and put her hand on the door handle. “Are you ready?”
Both Jewel and her grandmother waited with raised eyebrows, wondering what could be so wonderful about an old storeroom that had just received a new coat of paint. Rainy smirked. “Glad I remembered to take my medication this morning so I won’t have a heart attack from the excitement.”
Ignoring her, Mrs. Collier turned the door handle and pushed it open. “Ta-da!”
Jewel and her grandmother stood looking past Margaret into a room that resembled a small craft shop. Cedar shelves had been built against the longest wall and were now stocked with rolls of brightly colored fabric and batting material. Clear plastic bins lined the lower shelves, all clearly labeled by thread color and needle size to indicate their contents.
Jewel looked up at her grandmother, surprised to see her frowning. Rainy turned to Mrs. Collier. “What’s all this for?”
“For Caroline, of course! Remember how much she loved quilting? I think this is just the thing she needs to get started again.”
Grandma Rainy was still frowning. “Do you think she’s ready?”
“Of course she’s ready—she’s just always too busy with her job to quilt, but now that she’s here for a few months, it’s the perfect time to get back into it.” Mrs. Collier’s expression faltered as she stared at Rainy’s frown.
Rainy continued. “That’s not what I meant. Remember when my Bill was sick in the hospital, right before he passed on? I used to love to knit, always had a knitting project and my needles in a bag at my feet wherever I went. I was knitting a blanket for Shelby and nearly finished it, too, sitting by Bill’s hospital bed. But when he died, I couldn’t stand the thought of knitting. It reminded me too much of a bad time in my life, no matter how much I had used to love it.” Grandma Rainy took one of Mrs. Collier’s hands, as if to soften her words. “I think quilting for Caroline is that way. It makes her think of . . . a tough time. And I don’t think she’s ready to go back there yet.”
Mrs. Collier pulled away, her back to them, and nobody said anything for a long moment. Then her shoulders seemed to droop, reminding Jewel of a flower that had been left in a vase without water too long. “How could I not know this? How can I continue to do the wrong things where Caroline is concerned?”
Grandma Rainy surprised Jewel by leaning forward and hugging her friend. “Just keep loving her. And keep trying. Eventually you’ll both figure it out.” She gave Mrs. Collier a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Assuming you live that long, seeing how long in the tooth you are already.”
Mrs. Collier’s cheek trembled into a small smile, and Jewel saw her grandmother squeeze her friend’s hand again. Feeling the need to say something, Jewel said, “I think it’s pretty cool. I wish I could quilt. Then I could use all this stuff.”
The two older women looked at her with identical gleams in their eyes, but before they could say anything, they heard the front door slam shut and Caroline call out, “I’m back. You can call off the search party.”
Before the three of them could decide on a plan, Caroline had stuck her head through the laundry room doorway. They remained where they were, like three Goldilocks caught by Baby Bear.
Caroline walked toward them, clutching a paper grocery sack in her arms. “What are y’all up to?” As much as they tried to cluster and hide the open doorway behind them, Caroline apparently had no trouble seeing what was there. Jewel saw the light in her eyes fade.
Jewel was the first to speak. “Your mom and my grandma are going to teach me how to make a memory quilt so I can help with my mom’s.” Why did I say that? There was nothing so lame in the world as quilting, and if the kids at school ever found out, they’d never let her hear the end of it.
Caroline looked suspiciously from Mrs. Collier’s face to Rainy’s. “Oh. That’s nice.” She peeked inside the room again, and Jewel could tell from the way she held her body forward that she wanted to go in and look closer. But when she caught Mrs. Collier’s hopeful expression, Caroline backed away. “Well, have fun. I’ve got to go put the milk in the fridge.”
They all watched Caroline’s retreating back until Mrs. Collier said, “Well, that went better than I expected.”
Jewel felt her grandmother’s hand on her back, pushing her forward. “Yep, and it looks like we’d better set up a sewing circle in your living room, Margaret, so we can start Jewel’s quilting lessons.”
Jewel didn’t try to hold back her groan as Grandma Rainy propelled her out the door.
CHAPTER 9
CAROLINE TURNED OVER IN HER BED AGAIN, SEARCHING FOR A comfortable spot, and stared at the sliver of moonlight on the wall. She’d had the dream again, the same one she’d been having since she’d returned to Hart’s Valley. She’d had it the first time the night she’d come home from the hospital after Jude had died. In the dream, she’d been walking down a dark path where she couldn’t see anything except for the path in front of her. She wasn’t scared, because she knew there had been somebody walking with her. She couldn’t see, but she was sure it was Jude.
She glanced at the glow of numbers on her alarm clock. It was still the middle of the night, and a long way until dawn.
She flopped over again and closed her eyes, but still she could see shelves of fabric and quilting supplies, could smell the fresh lumber and paint. She had wanted to go into that back room and explore, feel the cotton beneath her fingers and lay the patterns out in her mind. Sitting up, she pressed her backbone against the headboard and forced her mind to stay in her dark bedroom and out of the back storeroom where her heart and mind were not allowed to go.
The loon called from the lake, its cry strident against the solid wall of night that surrounded Caroline in her bed. Push
ing the covers back, she slid her feet into her slippers and shuffled out to the back door, surprised to find it already open. She paused with her hands on the latch of the screen door as she caught the sound of a sigh coming from one of the chairs on the porch. Pressing her forehead against the screen, she spotted her mother.
Margaret sat unmoving in the rocking chair, her body poised on the edge of the seat as if she, too, had been listening to the call of the loon. Her mother still wore her outfit from the dinner party, and her helmet of hair reflected the moonlight like a solid sheet of steel.
Caroline started to open the door but stopped when she heard a sob and noticed for the first time that her mother’s shoulders were bent forward, like the stem of a flower weighed down by rain.
The crying melded with the loon’s, and Caroline looked toward the lake trying to seek guidance as to what to do next. But the loon lapsed into silence, the night broken only by the soft sobs of her mother.
Quietly Caroline pushed the door open. She stared for a long moment, seeing only a stranger. Her mother didn’t sob, and her shoulders never slouched. Even when she had come to the hospital to tell Caroline that Jude had been buried, Margaret had stood stoically erect, a delicate lace handkerchief occasionally dabbed at her eyes. She remembered her mother looking at her own dry eyes, and how Caroline couldn’t explain to her how mere tears could never express the endless wells of grief that echoed through her body and in the new heart beating there.
She watched her mother turn her face up toward the night sky, her elegant features outlined by the forgiving strokes of moonlight. Caroline froze, her mother’s expression mesmerizing in its awfulness. It startled her, made her want to turn back inside and not look anymore, but she stared hard, and the knowledge of what she saw grabbed her heart and squeezed. For the first time in almost fourteen years, Caroline saw the face of a mother whose child had died. In all those years, Caroline had always known herself to be the girl who’d lost her brother, but she had never—not once—seemed to recall that her mother had also lost a son.