Pieces of the Heart

by Karen White

He laughed, then thought about a person with problems closer to home. “What about Caroline? Do you think you’ll have her problems all solved by the time the quilt’s finished?”

  Rainy pushed away from the door. “I wish it could be that easy. There’s a point where a person’s hurts become a part of them, and to set them loose would be like losing a hand or a foot.” She sighed rubbing her hands over her arms. “Not that Margaret and I and a whole heap of doctors haven’t tried—we have, for thirteen years. I don’t know what it will take. I sure was hoping that time spent up here with her mother would help. Caroline hasn’t been back, you know—not since the accident.”

  Drew followed Rainy into the kitchen and sat down at the table while she put a teakettle on the stove. There was something about Rainy’s kitchen table that seemed conducive to solving the world’s problems. He should probably suggest she donate it to the United Nations. He smoothed his hands on the oak surface, remembering Caroline sitting here the day before, still feeling the sting of her words and hearing the hollowness in her voice.

  “Caroline told me about the accident—how Jude died and why she needed a new heart.”

  Rainy set two mugs on the table, with tea bags hanging from them. “I can’t say I’m surprised. She hasn’t talked about it in thirteen years, but I figured you of all people would pry it out of her.”

  She sat down, her face looking drawn and tired. He placed a hand on her arm. “You stay seated. When the kettle boils I’ll get it. You need to be taking it easy.”

  She grinned but it didn’t hide the exhaustion on her face. “Look who you’re talking to. I don’t think after all these years of running this store that I know how to take it easy.” She tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “No worry. It’s a signed deal, and the store will be yours in a month. If you still want it, that is.”

  Drew looked at her in surprise. “Of course I want it. I wouldn’t have signed the contract otherwise.”

  She just nodded, giving him the “I know better” look that she normally reserved for Caroline.

  “When Caroline told me about Jude’s car accident, I got the feeling that she wasn’t telling me the whole story—that she was deliberately leaving something out.”

  Rainy regarded him silently, and he knew he’d guessed correctly. The kettle whistled and he got up to retrieve it, then poured the boiling water into the mugs, the steam rising into the air like kept secrets.

  Rainy put her hands around the mug as if to warm them but kept her eyes on Drew. “Don’t you be asking me to tell you more. It’s not my place. If she thinks you should know, then she’ll tell you. Otherwise, leave it be.” She leaned forward to look in his face. “You don’t know what she’s been through, not really. Most people wouldn’t have survived it at all.”

  “I know,” he said, patting her hand. “I’ve learned that. Once you get through her prickly exterior, there’s a great person hiding underneath.”

  She turned her hand palm up and squeezed his. “I knew you’d see that. Just be patient.”

  He felt embarrassed all of a sudden, as if just now remembering he was talking to his mother-in-law. “It’s not what you think, Rainy. It’s just that Caroline . . . well, it’s hard to miss her, you know what I mean? It’s a small town, and everywhere I go it seems I bump into her and that huge chip on her shoulder. You know I’ve never been able to back down from a challenge.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “Don’t be embarrassed. I understand.”

  He dunked his tea bag into the hot water one more time before pulling it out. He avoided looking into her eyes because he wasn’t sure he wanted to see how much she really did understand.

  “By the way, I had a picture of Shelby in my wallet, but it’s not there anymore. I’m thinking it might have fallen out here in the store but I can’t seem to find it. Have you seen it?”

  Rainy shook her head. “No, but it’s funny you should mention it. I had a small wallet-size photo of Shelby and Jewel when Jewel was born that I’d taken out of the frame to polish it, but when I went to go put it back in, the thing had just vanished. I hope it didn’t get thrown away.”

  Drew nodded absently. “I’m sure they’ll show up. If not, I’ll go through Shelby’s things back at the house and see if she kept negatives or duplicates.”

  The loon thrashed about in the straw bedding in his pen. Rainy stood and bent over to pet him. “He’s getting restless. I think he senses the change of the season and is eager to be on his way.” She stroked his back and spoke quietly to the bird. “Soon, little one. Soon you’ll be strong enough to be out on your own, chasing down the moon.”

  Drew stood to join her, watching as the bird settled under Rainy’s gentle touch, wishing that all problems could be as easily soothed, and imagining Caroline clinging to the wings of the bird, rising up into the night sky.

  CHAPTER 21

  June 9, 1990

  Caroline was right. Always carrying a condom in your purse is a good idea, because you never know when you’re going to be needing it. I can’t tell her, though. Jude is her brother, and even though they’re so close, I just can’t go there.

  I didn’t really plan for anything to happen, and I don’t think Jude did, either. But after our ride dropped us off at our house, my parents didn’t come out. I peeked inside and saw they’d fallen asleep in front of an old John Wayne movie on cable.

  Jude took my hand and led me out to the path that goes around the lake. We walked holding hands for a long time and watched as clouds moved in and hid the moon. I remember smelling rain and Jude’s cologne as he kissed me, then pulled me close so that my arms had nowhere to go except around his neck.

  It was the most natural thing in the world to do. We took off our clothes and lay down together on the rich, dark earth that we know like our own beds. Jude had probably long ago realized that our coming together was something that was going to happen, but I didn’t know it until that moment. I can’t say if the earth moved, but I do know that the moon shifted on its course, taking us both with it, and when I looked up into his face it was like looking into my own. He is mine and I am his, along with the lake and the moon and the lonely loon that always evades capture no matter how much we try.

  Jewel closed the diary slowly, glad she’d read it, but a part of her wishing that she hadn’t. More than ever she needed to keep it hidden from her dad. It wasn’t like her mom had cheated on her dad; they hadn’t even met yet when Jude took her mother to the senior prom. But as strong and confident as her dad appeared to be to everyone around him, she knew he would be hurt.

  She stuck the diary beneath her mattress before going to the room where her mother’s things were kept. The door was kept open now, but she was pretty sure her dad never came in here. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet. Or maybe he just needed an invitation from her to go through everything together. The thought startled her. It was the first time she’d ever thought of her father as unsure or hesitant about anything, but the more she thought, the more she could see the truth in it. Her dad needed her to bring him into this room and deal with old memories he couldn’t quite let go of.

  Jewel opened the trunk, searching for the football jersey she’d seen before. She found it near the bottom, the number 02 emblazoned on the front in bright red. As she pulled it out, it unfolded and she saw the back for the first time. “ ‘Collier,’ ” she read out loud, holding it close to her chest, wanting to capture what her mother had felt, if only for a moment.

  But in her hands it was cool and limp, an empty shirt that had once belonged to somebody she’d never met. She felt the absence, but that was all. Crumpling it into a ball beneath her shirt, she shut the lid of the trunk before returning to her room.

  Caroline sat at the quilting table with Jewel and the two older women, and wondered how it had come about that she was sitting here doing something she had promised herself she’d never do again. She glanced up at her mother, who was squinting through her bifocals as she tried to thread a needle, and kn
ew that his had been her mother’s mission from the start. She just wasn’t sure why.

  Caroline reached over and took the needle and threaded it before handing it back. She warmed under her mother’s appreciative glance and bent back to her own work, to the sewing and stitching of Shelby’s quilt. She was aware of the four pairs of hands that held it, one smaller and three larger, and how all of them had been part of the life they were commemorating. They each added their own patterns, their own thread, their own stitches, weaving them together to make a whole. She supposed that was how Shelby’s life had been: gently enriched by those she knew and those who knew her. It was a celebration, in a way, and Caroline wanted to thank her mother for bringing her here to this table, with these women, but when she looked up to speak, her mother stood, and the moment was over.

  “Can I get anybody coffee or anything?”

  “I’d like a beer.”

  Everybody turned to Rainy in surprise.

  Margaret said, “It’s only nine thirty in the morning, Rainy. You can’t have a beer.”

  “Who says? I’m sixty-nine years old. I’ve lost a husband and a child and I’m recovering from cancer. I woke up this morning and said, ‘Damn—I’ve earned the right to drink whatever I want, whenever I want.’ ”

  Caroline’s mother stood looking at her best friend with her hands on her hips. “That’s ridiculous. You’ll turn into an alcoholic if you start drinking beer in the morning.”

  Rainy pushed her bifocals down her nose to stare up at her friend. “I haven’t had a beer since Bill died. I don’t think having one now will send me on the road to ruin.” She put down the fabric she’d been working on. “You have to learn how to relax, Margaret. Live a little. I find that it’s those times when I do something out of the ordinary that I learn something new. You should try it sometime.”

  Margaret pursed her lips. “Well, you can’t have a beer.”

  Rainy frowned. “And why the hell not?”

  “Because I don’t have any. How about some orange juice?”

  With a heavy sigh of resignation, Rainy said, “Why not? Guess you don’t have any vodka or anything around here to spice it up with, huh?”

  “Definitely not.” Caroline’s mother stalked off in a huff toward the kitchen.

  Caroline called out to her retreating back, “Can I have a cup of coffee, please?”

  When her mother returned, she placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Caroline. “It’s regular, so drink it slowly. You won’t be getting another one.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes and kept sewing, concentrating on making a bird beak with light blue thread. “Thank you,” she said, wishing briefly that she could be alone with her mother so that she might tell her thank you for other things.

  But then her mother disappeared into the kitchen again and returned with a glass of water and a can of fiber supplement. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you’re getting enough fiber. Just in case, I bought this at the grocery store on my last visit.”

  Caroline felt her cheeks flush and kept her head bent, feeling the glances of Jewel and Rainy. “I’m fine, Mom. Can we please change the subject now?” She wondered again at their changing relationship. She’d begun to consider it a symbiotic one that, like a vine growing on a tree, was one of support and mutual benefit. But sometimes, like now, she thought it was more like those of parasites and sharks.

  “Oh, my gosh—look at this.” Rainy had stopped sewing and had been going through a box of Shelby’s papers she’d found in the attic. “It’s that itinerary—remember? The one from when they were going to take that around-the-world trip.”

  Caroline stilled, almost feeling the sting on her rear end from the only belt whipping she’d ever received.

  Margaret reached for the piece of paper. “Oh, yes—I remember that! Do you, Caroline?”

  She nodded, focusing on the material in front of her, not able to face her mother. The whole memory still brought back the feelings of shame and powerlessness, as if the whole episode had happened yesterday. She’d been trying to assert her independence, and her mother had doused it like a bucket of water on a hot flame.

  Her mother laughed softly. “When I saw my American Express bill I remember thinking, ‘Wow, what a smart kid.’ I think the thing that made me angry was that Caroline lied to me when I found the itinerary under her bed. That was the one thing I could never tolerate from either one of my children.”

  Caroline’s hands stilled as she looked at her mother. She remembered the time she’d seen her crying on the back porch, seeing her as a grieving mother for the first time. She felt that way now, seeing not a stranger, but her mother as she’d always known her in her heart, but not in her eyes.

  Her mother continued. “Even when I was yelling at you, and even afterward when I told your father about it, I remember being so proud to have a daughter smart enough to try to pull off something like that.” She looked up at her daughter. “I couldn’t let you know that, of course.”

  “Why not? It would have made all the difference to me. You were so mad I thought you were getting ready to send me to boarding school in Siberia.”

  Her mother chewed on her lower lip, an action Caroline couldn’t remember ever seeing before. “I didn’t want to undermine my authority by lessening your punishment.” She sighed, her shoulders sinking. “I guess in hindsight I should have handled it differently. As a parent I could only do what I thought best. I figured that as long as you knew you were loved, you could handle any mistakes we made. That sort of became my parenting motto over the years. I made lots of mistakes where you and your brother were concerned. But I always loved you, and I could only hope that you knew it.”

  Caroline picked up her needle and thread and continued to sew, afraid to say anything or look at her mother, because if she did she knew she would start crying and never stop.

  They were all silent for a long time until Rainy cleared her throat. “Well, gosh, Margaret, you’re going to make us all cry and then we’ll never get this thing done. Let’s talk about something else now. Jewel—is everything ready for the Harvest Moon festival at school tomorrow?”

  Jewel looked at Caroline and her mother as they both bent over their work, as if making sure they were finished speaking. “Yep—though Coach Dempsey wanted to know if there were any more place mats for our booth. He thinks we could sell them.”

  “Not unless Caroline has more here. We had ten sets of four at the store, and Drew said we’ve sold every last one of them. Real popular merchandise, those. Caroline, you’ll have to talk with Drew about a marketing deal.”

  Caroline snorted. “Right. We’ll do that right after we talk about a marketing deal for his furniture.”

  “What?” Jewel sat straight up in her chair. “Has he finally agreed to let you sell his stuff?”

  “I wish. But he won’t even consider it. What I’d really like to do is just send some photographs of a few of his pieces—like your dining room table—to my boss. Just to get a professional’s opinion. But your dad won’t even talk to me about it.”

  Jewel leaned forward. “I wish you’d try harder. He so needs to have something to occupy his mind—besides me and what I’m doing and where I’m going.”

  Rainy sent her a reproving look. “Now, Jewel . . .”

  “I know, I know. I’m glad, really. It’s been kinda nice spending more time with him. But the man is just sort of floundering, and it makes me feel guilty because I know he gave up so much for me.”

  Caroline and the two older women stared at her for a few moments before Rainy spoke. “Good Lord, Jewel. You sound more and more like your mother every day. Thirteen going on thirty. I won’t ask where you got your brains, because it’s obvious. But please try to act and talk like a child every once in a while, all right? You’re my only grandchild and you’re making me feel old.”

  Caroline’s mother coughed and looked pointedly at Rainy. “You feel old because you are old, dear.”

  The phone rang and
Margaret went to answer it. Caroline paused in her stitching, trying to listen. When her mother returned, she was halfway out of her seat. “Is it for me?”

  “No. Just the bug man reminding me he’ll be here tomorrow morning.” She knitted her eyebrows. “Who were you expecting?”

  “Not my boss, if that’s what you’re wondering. I was actually waiting for a call from Dad. I’ve left about three messages for him on his machine. I know you said he was out of town, but he should be back by now—or at least returning calls from wherever he is.”

  Her mother and Rainy exchanged glances. Rainy kept her head down as she said, “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  Margaret sent her friend a piercing look. “Rainy, please don’t start.”

  “Really, Margaret. You’re way past the age of covering for him. Caroline’s old enough to hear a few things now, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t th—”

  They had Caroline’s full attention now. “What are you talking about?”

  Margaret bent her head to her stitching but her hands didn’t move.

  Rainy said, “Just that your dad will call you when it suits him, and not before. That’s pretty much how he’s always been. If he doesn’t feel like doing something, or there’s a bit of unpleasantness to handle, he’s gone so fast it’s like lightning struck him in the butt.”

  Margaret had both hands on the table now and was staring at her friend furiously. “Stop it now, Rainy. This is neither the time nor the place.” She nodded her head in Jewel’s direction, indicating that there were young ears present.

  “If you say so,” Rainy said, her lips pursed as she began stitching again.

  Caroline looked at her mother, but Margaret had already picked up her needle and was studying the corner of the quilt she’d been working on. Caroline stared at the top of her mother’s head, willing her to look up. After several moments Caroline bent back to her own quilt corner, tucking the thought in the back of her mind to dig out whatever it was her mother didn’t want to talk about.