Heart on a Shoestring

by Marilyn Grey

  He extended his hand to me and shook, then reached for Miranda’s hand, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her cheek against his chest. He jerked and bit his lip. I looked at my feet.

  “Not every story has a perfect ending,” he said. “But I want to do my best to make my story turn out a little better. You know, I got to thinking about things . . . at my funeral what would my memory be? When my dad died I was twelve years old, raised to be tough and suck it up, but during his funeral they couldn’t find me. I was hiding under his casket shaking so hard I almost knocked the thing over. When he died I lost something and I’m afraid if I died right now people wouldn’t lose anything, they’d gain something. That’s not what I want.” He shook his head and stepped back into the room, away from the door. “When my father died I remembered fun times. I remembered playing ball and breaking in my gloves. I’m sorry I haven’t given you good memories, Miranda. I want to make it better. I want to die a better man than the one I’ve been. I’ve been through a lot.” He squeezed his eyes shut as though in pain. “But it’s no excuse . . . it’s no excuse. . . .”

  “Dad,” she said, peering up at him through strands of tear-soaked hair. “I always loved you. We all did. That’s why you hurt us so much, because we loved you so much.” More tears. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for all of the horrible things I’ve said throughout my life. I wasn’t the best kid in the world and I know that.”

  “You’re my daughter. I know I’ve never said this before since you’ve come into the world, but I want you to hear it now. And it’s not easy for me to say it. For some reason it feels like pulling hair, but I need to say it.” He drew in a breath. “I love you.” And with that he nodded his head, tipped his hat to me, and put one hand on the door knob. “Thank you both.”

  He closed the door behind him. Miranda and I moved to the front window, peeled back the curtains, and watched him saunter away with his head up.

  She leaned into my arms and sniffed. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t either,” I said. “I think I’m still in shock.”

  “You know, sometimes I wonder if more people would change if we only believed in them.” She let go of the curtains and faced me. “We are so trained into believing the worst, into thinking some people are beyond hope. What if it’s our lack of belief that makes people hopeless? What if we can change the world just by hoping for the best instead of settling for the worst?”

  I kissed her forehead and pulled her into me. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Liz.”

  “I’m serious though.”

  “I know you are. And I love you for it.”

  Ch. 25 | Miranda

  Another lonely park bench called my name. It’s wrought iron frame, wooden slats, and desire to hold another life filled with wonder. I sat down and admired the passing strangers. One by one they entered my life, if only for a brief moment, then exited. Kids licking ice cream off their chins. Teens running their thumbs down their phone screens. Business people briskly walking to their appointments. Couples stopping to kiss underneath the arms of a tree. Life. Passing by. Inspiring me, once again, to pull out my journal. I reclined on the bench, pressed my blue-tipped pen into the paper, and began at the place most stories leave off.

  And they lived happily ever after....

  Most love stories begin with “once upon a time” and end with “happily ever after.” Not Turtle and Lizzy. Their “once upon time” happened to be the beginning of their friendship, but not the beginning of their love story.

  Both Turtle and Lizzy suffered from the same illness disguised in different ways. Lizzy spent her life feeling unworthy of love, so she shut down and turned herself into a revolving door and tried to blend in to her latest attraction. Turtle, on the other hand, made a few wrong decisions and became someone he couldn’t stand, so he reverted to his shell and deemed himself unworthy of the love he so desired.

  Fear.

  That was their illness. They feared themselves. Feared others. Feared opinions, rejections, and, well, each other.

  But they didn’t give up. They tried to, but didn’t know how. So Turtle helped Lizzy learn how to find her own colors instead of being such a chameleon all the time. Lizzy also helped Turtle. He would say she helped him become a man, a real Turtle man. But Lizzy doesn’t see it that way. She believes she simply helped him discover the boy in him. Because to her, it’s the boy in the man that makes a man so valiant.

  Either way, the love between them broke down the walls around their hearts and for the first time in their lives they opened up to another person. Let someone in. Loved. Really loved.

  So, how can we start the Turtle and Lizzy story with “happily ever after?” Easy. Because when two people finally find the courage to do something they’ve been fearing for so long ... they will fight forever to keep the gift they’ve been given. Because now, it’s no longer opening up that they fear... It’s losing the one they’ve let in.

  He sat down by my feet and smiled at me. Serene, soothing. A few months ago the very presence of one another made us both uneasy. Now we felt at home. My best friend turned into my boyfriend and I knew without a doubt, when the time was right, we’d naturally find ourselves as husband and wife.

  I locked my fingers with his and smiled. “I’ll never let you go. You know that, right? You’re stuck with me forever now.”

  He draped his arm over my knee and grabbed my other hand. “Can’t think of someone better to be stuck to.”

  “You know.” I sat up and snuggled into his chest. “I sat on this bench so many times. Wondering if I’d get married. If I’d let someone in and if that person would actually like what they found.” I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Now, I’m sitting here with you and looking at the girl on that bench over there.”

  “Where?”

  I pointed. “She reminds me of myself. I’ve been watching her since I got here. She’s been watching others. Like I do. I can’t help but wonder if she’s looking at us and fashioning her own ideals as she imagines our love story unfolding before her eyes.”

  “Well.” He laughed. “Not everyone has an imagination like you. You wonder far more than the average person.”

  “Yes.” I ripped a blank paper out of my journal. “I have an idea.”

  “That reminds me. Now that I’m living here I need you to help me figure out what I should do for my job.”

  “Live off your savings?”

  He laughed. “You know I don’t feel right spending all that on myself. Plus I need a job. Something to do.”

  “Maybe deliver babies?”

  He gazed into the distance. Probably imagining his son.

  “Think happy thoughts. Replace all of your bad memories with good ones. Bring life into the world.”

  “What was your idea with the paper?”

  “Let’s leave notes on benches. Every time I sit on a bench I want to leave something behind.”

  “Meaning?”

  I drew a heart then tore around the edges. Still had an extra red shoe string in my purse, so I looped it through a hole in the heart and handed it to Derek. “Write something on it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything. Something that will inspire the person who sits here next.”

  He took my pen and thought about it.

  “Don’t think too hard,” I said. “Might hurt yourself.”

  “I have no idea what to write.”

  “Come on. Be inspiring.” I tapped his head. “Feel the inspiration. Be the inspiration.”

  “Very funny.” He took the cap off the pen. “Still clueless.”

  “Imagine a young guy sitting down here after a long day at school. He’s a senior in high school. Scholarship to every university imaginable, but he feels empty. Lonely. Now, tell him something. A quick word of inspiration that will spark his heart and bring him to life.”

  “You’re something else. You know that?”

  I pointed to the heart. His pen
touched the paper, grazed it with gentle strokes, and formed a small paragraph. He put the cap back on the pen and handed me the heart.

  If anyone is going to be the villain in your story, don’t let it be yourself. When you find the right one, give her all of you, not just the good parts, the scraps too. Let her into the worst and if she still loves you, keep her. Jump off the bridge. Leap across the canyon. Fly. You won’t die, and if you do, it’s a good kind of death anyway. Life is waiting on the other side.

  I smiled. “Perfect.” We stood. I hung the shoe string on the back of the bench so the heart dangled in front. We stepped back, admired our work, and then admired each other.

  He took my hand and led me away from the bench. The cool breeze flipped the leaves on the trees, making way for another summer storm, possibly the last before autumn covered the stage of life with a new backdrop. Birds chirped above us, people jogged with headphones in their ears, and the girl with a sweet sparkle in her eyes grinned as we passed her. Strangers crossing paths. Our eyes met and I could see hope beneath her gaze. Like damp soil warmed after a germinating winter, ready and eager for life. Ready for anything. Something.

  Derek swayed our hands as our feet stepped to the same rhythm, carrying us into a dream where princes donned themselves in brown t-shirts and princesses had pink hair and laceless shoes. Together, we inhaled the present and exhaled the future. Every moment meant something. Every action counted. Another memory in our story. Another page in our book. The story we’d write side-by-side until the moon no longer glowed on our faces, but lit our names on neighboring gravetones.

  Somehow, someway, I became a story passing by another. A story worth reading. I never thought I’d be so happy to walk away from my beloved park bench.

  Love not only changes lives … it gives birth to life.

  And I made it my life goal to never go a day without treasuring life with him by my side.

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  Join the Movement!

  Visit marilyn-grey.com to purchase a pre-made pack of hearts on shoestrings to leave your mark of inspiration on the world. Or print out the free hearts, purchase your own shoestrings, and join the movement! Let's see how many hearts we can create to inspire those around us ... tweet or post to Marilyn's facebook page when you do so! She'd love to see your hearts all over the world!

  Bloom

  The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or

  even touched. They must be felt with the heart.

  Helen Keller

  A beautiful, successful, sweet personality with the world at her fingertips, Sarah Jordan falls in love with James, a charming man who adores her. But he comes with broken pieces and a daughter he adopted when his brother and sister-in-law died in an accident he feels he could’ve prevented. When she finally decides to say “yes” to his many proposals, they are both burned in a campfire accident. After a year of hospital beds and stark lights, Sarah is released to go home with everything but her former beauty. As she recovers, James struggles with regret and guilt as Sarah fights to overcome the depression that comes with a new life so different from the one she loved so much. Her joy and security are tested while budding relationships cleanse wounds they never knew they had.

  Bloom

  Book 5 of The Unspoken Series

  Out May 2014

  Pre-Order Now

  Bloom - Book 5

  Sarah's Story

  Prologue

  August

  a year and a half prior

  James and I made s’mores by the fire. Always a careful person, I stayed three feet away from the crackling flames as I roasted my marshmallow, then smothered it between chocolate and crunchy graham crackers. James wiped my face and kissed the side of my mouth. We spent an hour talking about life. Our goals. Our future.

  Near the end of the conversation I yawned. He got down on his knees to clean up the boxes and trash. At least that’s what I thought.

  Staring up at me, he took something out of his pocket. I straightened my back as I sat on the log and a smile wrapped around my face as he took my hand.

  “Sarah, we’ve both been through a lot. I know I’m not like all of your friends. I’m normal. A mechanic. Not artsy like you and all of them. I’ve argued with myself constantly. Had this ring for a while, you know.” He spun it in his hands, looking down. “I didn’t know how to make this romantic and over the top. I didn’t want to ask for help either because, to me, that’s a lie. This is who I am. I may not be the most romantic guy in the world, but you’re my best friend and I want to experience life with you. Forever. So ... what do you think?”

  I covered my mouth as he slipped the ring on my left hand. “Of course, James. You know my concerns about leaving Abby though. She can’t lose a mother figure twice. It would be unbearable.”

  “Your cancer is gone. Doctors say there’s a good chance it’s gone forever.”

  I nodded. “Enough of that talk. I want to relish this moment. I never want to forget the way it felt when you asked me to be your wife.”

  He stood and pulled me into his arms. “How does it feel?”

  “It feels ... normal.”

  We laughed. He carried me into the tent and flopped me onto the pillows. We had a ton of cheap three-dollar pillows stuffed in the tent. James surprised me because I once told him I wanted to sleep on a cloud.

  “Can you go put out the fire?” I said.

  He smiled. “Yes. Right after I kiss my future wife.”

  We kissed as the moonlight lit our faces. That’s the last wonderful thing I remember before waking up to James screaming for me.

  By the time I opened my eyes the tent was orange and a horrible scent clung to my nose. I screamed and backed into the corner of the tent, looking for James as the bed of clouds engulfed into huge flames. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my arm as I clawed at the tent, trying to rip the cloth and bite my way out of the fabric. The flames licked my skin, inching closer.

  I looked down at my legs and hands. Didn’t take long to realize. The ghastly smell was my own skin melting off. Sharp bursts of pain seared through every inch of my body. Skin, black like the marshmallow I burned a little while ago, flapped off my arm and I could see the bone in my left hand, where the ring he gave me no longer resided.

  James screamed my name again. A haunting chill swept over me, cooling my inflamed body. I collapsed in the corner of the tent like a parachute falling to the ground and asked God to take me quickly. A rush of sunny memories terrified me. I’d never see them again. This was the end.

  Then each memory vanished and the world turned black.

  Chapter One

  My room smelled of buttery pancakes and pumpkin pie. I turned on my phone. 9:32a.m. September 15th. I no longer needed help taking off my burn mask. Thankfully. No need to wake Cheyenne this morning, who was still sleeping peacefully in the twin bed beside mine. Ella had been an angel. Not only allowing me to stay in her home, but allowing my cousin Cheyenne to stay with me as well. Ella worried that she wouldn’t be able to help me after she had the baby, but Adelaide Kessler was four weeks and two days old and Ella spent four weeks and one day out of those first weeks of her daughters life checking on me every three hours. At least.

  I stayed in the hospital longer than most of the other burn unit patients. Partly because I had a lot of infections along the way, near death experiences, and trouble learning to walk again. And also because I wanted to. I feared coming home and burdening others. I feared being needy and, most of all, I feared that I’d no longer be able to hide my tears. When someone visited me in the hospital I had enough warning to dry my eyes and put on a happy face. In the world I’d need to hold it in or let it out. And let it known.

  Cheyenne stirred and saw me standing without my burn mask. “You’re getting quite ambitious, aren’t you?”

  “Funny,” I said. “Gone are the days when ten mile runs were ambitious. Now getting out
of bed myself is an accomplishment.”

  “You’ve come so far since the accident. Imagine how normal life will be by this time next year.”

  I toddled toward the bathroom. Ignoring her optimism. I knew the heart of an optimist well. I used to be one. My entire life. Until now. But normal wouldn’t exist for me ever again. A new normal, maybe. But not my old normal.

  Cheyenne closed the bathroom door behind me. “Let me know if you need help.”

  I stood in front of the mirror. Someone’s face stared back at me. Red, swollen, and disfigured. The right side of my face remained somewhat normal, but the left side ... I looked away and positioned myself on the toilet. Took ten minutes to do something I once did in two. I washed my hands and avoided the mirror.

  Throughout my life people complimented my beauty, but honestly, I never though much of it. I didn’t get too into my looks like some girls. Wasn’t important to me.

  Every time I saw my reflection in a mirror I couldn’t help but realize how important it actually was to me. I just didn’t realize it until it was gone.

  Life with a different face is a new life altogether. People treated me like a child now. They talked to me with loud and slow voices as though my ears melted away in the fire. Strangers stared and kids pointed. Men, who once turned their heads to watch me walk away, now turned their heads in disgust. I never needed attention. And I still didn’t. Maybe that’s why it upset me to be looked at so much.