Pieces of the Heart

by Karen White

  Caroline smiled back. “We’re almost done with the quilt, and I guess at this point I just want to rush and get it finished. I apparently have three more quilts to make, thanks to the raffle—not including the one I already told Jewel I’d make for Coach Dempsey for the end-of-the-year party.”

  Her mother sat back in her chair. “Looks like you’re going to be busy for a while. Are you planning on extending your leave or are you going to cart all the materials back to Atlanta?”

  “Oh. I hadn’t really thought about it. How long have I been here?”

  “Almost two and a half months. I can’t believe you haven’t been keeping track.”

  Caroline walked slowly around the table examining the brightly colored squares. “I was—at first. And then . . . well, I guess I got kinda busy with the quilt and all those place mats.”

  She waited for her mother to say something, but instead Margaret put down the corner of the fabric she’d been working on and stood. “Speaking of which, have you seen your scrapbook? There’s a great picture in there and a party invitation from Shelby’s sixteenth birthday. I thought that would be a nice thing to put on the quilt.” She began rummaging through the pile of pictures that were scattered over the cardboard table.

  Caroline leaned against the table and stared at her mother. “What scrapbook? I never had a scrapbook.”

  Her mother didn’t look up but continued rummaging. “Yes, you did. I gave it to you for your tenth birthday but you never put anything in it. So I borrowed it and have been keeping up with it ever since. As a matter of fact, a couple of weeks ago I took down all of your swimming pictures that I had in the bedroom and hallway and put them in your scrapbook. I figured when I gave it to you, you’d want them all together.”

  “You never mentioned it to me.”

  Her mother finally stopped what she was doing and gave Caroline a cursory glance. “Sure I did. Just about every time I called you back in Atlanta, whenever I didn’t get your answering machine. I talked about it a lot, but you never asked to see it.” She gave an elegant shrug. “But I kept working on it. I figured one day you’d be happy to have it.” She tapped her painted fingernails absently on the tabletop. “Darn. I wish I could remember what I did with it. I could have sworn I left it right here.”

  She turned back to the piles of pictures while Caroline watched her, feeling like a person who’d just stepped though an elevator door to find only an empty shaft. She did vaguely recall her mother talking about a scrapbook. But she had blocked it out, like she usually blocked out her mother’s telephone chatter, seeing it as just an unwelcome interruption in her orderly, predictable life.

  Caroline picked up a needle with bright blue thread hanging from it and absently pricked her thumb with it, not enough to draw blood but enough to remind her of where she was and why she was here and that she was alone with her mother and they weren’t fighting. She had so much to say but couldn’t think of any word to start with.

  The doorbell rang and they both looked at each other in surprise.

  “It might be Jewel wanting to work on the quilt before school,” her mother said as she walked toward the door.

  Caroline craned her neck to see who it was and jerked out of her chair when she recognized the familiar face. She moved to stand next to her mother at the door.

  “Ken—what on earth are you doing here?”

  Her boss, and president of Kobylt Brothers Furniture, wore a golf shirt and pants and held a crumpled golf hat in his hand that he scrunched absently while he stood facing them. His black Mercedes sat in the driveway, covered in dust.

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “Well, Helen has been after me for about a year to come up for a week to our house in Highlands. And when I got those pictures from you, it was just an added incentive.”

  Caroline looked past his shoulder to the car. “Is Helen here?”

  “Oh, no. I dropped her off at the house—it’s only about a half hour away. I told her I was going to go check out the golf course.” He winked. “She hates it when I bring business on vacation.”

  “Business?” Caroline’s mother asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Have we met?”

  Caroline pushed the door open wider and ushered him inside. “Oh, I’m sorry. Mom, this is my boss, Ken Kobylt. Ken, this is my mother, Margaret Collier.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” They shook hands, but Margaret’s demeanor remained cool.

  “What business?” her mother asked again.

  “Mom, could you get us some coffee? I’d like to talk with Ken alone for a few minutes and then I’ll explain.”

  Her mother’s lips thinned with disapproval before she nodded. “All right. But you’re getting decaf.”

  Ken raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t let her bother you—she’s just worried about me.” Caroline wanted to smile at her own words. Had she ever acknowledged that her mother worried about her? Had she even ever realized it herself?

  They moved into the great room and Ken immediately went to the trophy cabinet. “This is the one in the picture, isn’t it?” He ran his hands down the smooth side of the cabinet, in the same way Caroline had when she’d first seen it.

  At her nod, he continued. “I need to meet this guy. I’d like to talk through some ideas I have. I want to mass-produce some of his pieces, but in a very limited way. That way we can keep it exclusive—with a predetermined number to be made. This piece alone I know we could retail for ten grand.”

  Caroline sat down, feeling exhilarated and deflated at the same time. This was certainly good news for her. But she couldn’t even begin to think about how Drew was going to react. “What’s wrong? You don’t look as excited as I thought you’d be.” Ken sat on the opposite sofa and steepled his fingers.

  “It’s not that I’m not excited—don’t get me wrong. I know Drew’s stuff is amazing, and it’s gratifying to know my hunch was right. But we have a little problem.” She could see his eyes lighten. Problems were his forte.

  She continued. “I know I mentioned this in my letter I sent with the photos. It’s just . . . well . . . Drew Reed, the furniture maker, is, um, well, reluctant. He doesn’t want to be a commercial success. He makes furniture for his own pleasure.” She watched as Ken smiled dismissively, and she realized that three months ago she would have had the same reaction. She had been an astute businesswoman, seeing things and making decisions in clear black-and-white. But now, somehow, her black-and-white world was suddenly tinged with yellow. And blue and red and orange, it seemed—all the colors she had used on Shelby’s quilt. Nothing seemed clear at all.

  “Not a problem. If you could arrange a meeting while I’m here, I’m sure I can persuade him to change his mind.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Ken. Drew isn’t motivated by money. The most important things to him are his daughter, his artistry, and his time. He’s found in his past that those three things and making money seem to be mutually exclusive.”

  Ken’s smile didn’t even slip a notch. “Oh, one of those. I see. Well, that will help me narrow my approach, anyway.” He slapped his hands on his knees. “So can you tell me where I can find Mr. Reed?”

  Caroline was starting to get annoyed—a completely unfamiliar feeling where her boss was concerned. They had worked together for almost eight years, sharing the same goals and methods for success. Her reluctance to join him in his enthusiasm startled her while at the same time reassuring her. Maybe she did have Jude’s heart, after all.

  She stood just as her mother entered the room carrying a tray with coffee and pound cake slices. “Look, Ken. I need to talk with Drew first. And then if he wants to talk further, I’ll let him know that you’re staying in Highlands and we can arrange—”

  The doorbell rang again, and the three of them turned to stare at the closed door.

  “I’ll get it,” Caroline and her mother said in unison.

  Caroline put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Mom, please. It’s Drew. He’s
picking me up for our hike. Let me talk with him first, okay? I’ll get everything straightened out.”

  Her mother shook her head, but glided past her with the coffee tray and a bright smile for Ken.

  Drew waited on the doorstep when Caroline opened the door. He was looking curiously at the car in the driveway, and Caroline responded by stepping outside with him and closing the door behind her.

  “You’ve got company.”

  “Yes. We do.” She wanted to talk about the night before, and about the pictures she’d sent and about the man inside. But more than anything she wanted to stand there with him in the silence and just be.

  He waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t he said, “I wanted to tell you in person that I’m going to have to miss our hike today. Jewel’s headache has gotten worse and nothing seems to be helping it. She’s staying home from school, and I’d like to hang around to keep an eye on her.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll stop by later to see how she’s doing. Is there anything you need?”

  “No, I think we’re covered—”

  He was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind them. Ken stuck his hand out toward Drew just as Caroline’s mother appeared in the doorway behind him with a look of annoyance on her face. “Mr. Kobylt, I think this is a private conversation.”

  “I understand you’re Drew Reed.” He pumped Drew’s hand up and down.

  “Yes, I am. And you would be . . .?”

  “Ken Kobylt, president of Kobylt Brothers Furniture. I’m a great fan of your work.”

  “Excuse me?” Drew darted a look at Caroline.

  “I work with Caroline, and she sent me a few pictures of some of your furniture pieces. Most impressive, if I might say. You are a true talent.”

  Drew went completely still, the look in his eyes almost predatory. Caroline could see why he was once considered a formidable court opponent. That one look made her feel as if she were on a witness stand and he was about to wring her dry. She swallowed and faced him, knowing that this was what she and Jewel had been fearing all along, just not so soon.

  “I don’t remember giving her permission to take pictures of anything, much less send them to you.”

  Ken nodded, making an effort to appear compassionate. “Oh, I’m aware of that. She told me up front that you weren’t keen on the idea. But after seeing what you can do, I’m prepared to work with you. Make a mutually beneficial offer.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  Drew stepped off the porch and began striding toward his house. His back door opened and Jewel moved slowly toward him, a white washcloth pressed to her head with one hand. She stopped before she reached him, and Caroline could see that she was swaying on her feet. Caroline began to run.

  She reached Jewel at the same time Drew did.

  “It’s bad, Daddy. It’s never been this bad before. I can’t see right. My eyes are funny.”

  Her knees buckled and Drew caught her, lifting her in his arms. His face was cold when he turned to Caroline. “Call Rainy. Tell her I’m taking Jewel to the emergency room at Highlands Medical. Ask her to meet us there.”

  Margaret appeared, her high heels held in one hand as if she’d taken them off to run. “I’ll call Rainy—you two just go. Let Caroline drive. You’ll want your hands free for Jewel.”

  Caroline could see he wanted to argue, but then he looked down at Jewel, to where her skin had gone a pasty white, and all he did was nod.

  Margaret touched Caroline on the arm. “Take the Cadillac—it’s got a big engine. I’ll meet you at the car with your purse and keys.” Her mother took off at a run again, but Caroline spared only a couple of seconds to watch.

  Drew called out to Margaret just as she reached her back porch and had practically pushed Mr. Kobylt out of the way to jerk open the door. “And could you please bring one of Caroline’s shirts for Jewel—she just threw up.”

  With a quick nod, Margaret disappeared into the house.

  Caroline touched Drew briefly on the arm. “I’ll bring the car out to the driveway so you don’t have to carry her down the hill.”

  He nodded his head stiffly, sending her a brief look that was somewhere between anger and terror. She recognized the expression. It was one that had once greeted her every morning in the mirror, and it made her heart ache.

  She raised her fingers to his cheek. “It’s going to be all right.” She had no reason to believe it, only that she felt it in her heart and knew how much he needed to hear it.

  Jewel moaned, and Caroline began moving quickly toward the garage, but was intercepted by Ken Kobylt dangling car keys in front of her. “No, here. Take my car. It’s real fast and will get you there quicker than any Cadillac.”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the keys and sliding into the black Mercedes to start the engine. Margaret had come out of the house and handed Caroline a shirt for Jewel and then two large bath towels to Drew in the backseat.

  “Drive carefully,” she said to Caroline as she began pulling out of the driveway. “I’m going to call Rainy right now, and I’ve already called Highlands Medical to let them know you’re on your way.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” she said, then watched in surprise as her mother sent her the thumbs-up sign. Torn between wanting to laugh and needing to cry, she carefully backed her way out of the long driveway, then pushed the gas pedal down as far as it could safely go.

  CHAPTER 26

  WHEN CAROLINE FINALLY RETURNED HOME LATER THAT evening, the porch light was turned on, but her mother, Ken Kobylt, and her mother’s Cadillac were gone. She leaned wearily against the closed door for a long moment, wanting to fall down where she stood and sleep for days.

  Instead she found herself moving toward the piano. She remembered how Jude had liked to play when he was feeling bad—after arguing with a friend or playing badly on the football field. She understood it now, and didn’t fight her own desire to find peace and solitude somewhere within the black and white keys.

  Her fingers were surer now, drawing from some inner resource Caroline had never realized she had, or, if she had, had never allowed out. She used both hands, finding the melody with the right hand and the accompaniment with the left. It was a piece she recognized from when she used to lie under the piano when Jude played, unformed and unpracticed, but unmistakably beautiful. The act of moving her fingers on the keys and creating music relaxed her, restored her, and somehow fulfilled her in the same way her swimming once had and the way her quilting still did.

  She was smiling to herself when her mother returned, surprising Caroline by appearing by the piano, having walked in the front door without being heard. Caroline abruptly stopped playing.

  “That was beautiful, Caroline. You never told me you could play.”

  Caroline absently plucked at a note. “I didn’t know I could—not until I came here and saw this piano and just started playing.”

  Her mother nodded. “You always had musical talent, you know. When you were really little, you used to climb up on the piano bench and make up your own songs or repeat something I’d played.”

  “I did? Why did I stop?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe it was when Jude started playing—which was about the same time he learned to walk. He’d do the same thing you did—just pluck out notes or replay favorite tunes. I think at some point you decided he was better at it than you were, so you stopped and became Jude’s audience.”

  Caroline’s forefinger continued to hit middle C as she considered her mother’s words, vaguely remembering a feeling—or was it a scrap of music floating in the air?—of when she was very, very small. She jerked her head up suddenly, remembering Mr. Kobylt. “Where’s Ken? I still have his car.”

  “I took him home. He’s really a sweet man, but I didn’t want him here when you got back, and I think he wanted to get back to his wife. I told him we’d bring his car to him tomorrow. How is Jewel?”

  The pain and worry she’d been trying to forget hit her anew, and
she dropped both hands into her lap. “I stayed for the first CT. It’s a cerebral aneurysm—just like Shelby had. And it’s weird because she had a scan a month ago and there was nothing.” She shrugged. “The doctors said it was just a random event. The good news is that it’s not bleeding—not yet. We got her to the hospital in time, it seems.”

  Her mother placed her hands over her heart. “Thank God. So where is she now?”

  “They’re doing what they can to release the pressure now, but they’re airlifting her to Children’s Hospital in Atlanta tonight. She’ll need to have surgery tomorrow to block the blood flow through the aneurysm so that it doesn’t rupture. Rainy’s with Drew, and he asked if I’d come home and pick up a few things for Jewel and drive to Atlanta tomorrow.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “There’s no need, Mom. I can manage fine.”

  “It’s a long drive and you’re tired. You should have somebody go with you. I’ll go pack my overnight case now.”

  The exhaustion and worry over Jewel pushed at Caroline, making her want to push back. She looked at her mother, her hands in open supplication. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Treat me like a little child.”

  “Because I’m your mother and you’re my daughter. Somewhere, in that unwritten book that’s given to every mother at childbirth, it’s in there.”

  “What—that you should fuss over your children whether they want it or not?”

  “No, that you should love your children whether they want it or not.”

  Caroline left the piano bench and stood, hugging her arms over her chest. She came to a stop in front of Jude’s picture. “You never cared when I was little. Why have you decided that now that I’m thirty years old, you’re going to start trying to be my mother?”

  Margaret sat down inelegantly on the vacated piano bench, as if all the air had flown out of her. “Oh, God, Caroline. No. Oh, God, no.” Her mother took a deep breath before continuing. “Perhaps I made a mistake when you were growing up that made you think that. But when you pushed me away in your desire to be independent, I let you go, no matter how much it hurt me.” She sighed, and Caroline pictured her mother’s slim shoulders rising and falling inside the lemon-yellow jacket.