I Love You to Pieces

by Lori Flynn

  “I don’t know how many times I can tell the same story,” her mother said. “Olivia asked me to take her for a walk in the garden. When she became overheated and passed out, I lugged her all the way back by myself. It’s me you should be concerned with. My back will probably never be the same. My masseur should be here any minute now.” Her mother checked her watch.

  “I am so sorry, baby girl. You sleep, and I’ll watch over you,” Nanny said, tears spilling from her eyes.

  Confused, Olivia nodded while she scanned the room. Her stomach fluttered. Her head pounded. A sense of loss swept over her. She surrendered to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia

  Olivia straightened her shoulders before tightly lacing her fingers on the desk before her. Her teacher, Sister Anne, possessed the uncanny ability to make you confess your crime while condemning you to hell, all without so much as batting an eye or raising her voice. Any one of her fourth-grade students at Saint Timothy’s Catholic School would swear it was true. She assumed it to be a skill that nuns were required to master before they received a key to the convent.

  A model student, she strived to do as she was told, paying attention and staying out of Sister’s line of fire. Grades kept her at the top of her class, despite what Olivia considered Sister Anne’s confusing teaching methods, like jumping ahead several chapters at a time. Her favorite seemed to be springing surprise projects on them.

  “Class, today we begin work on our Mother’s Day collages,” Sister Anne informed from the front of the room. “Line up in an orderly fashion, ladies first, to retrieve your photographs from the top of my desk.”

  Why don’t I know about this assignment? Olivia’s stomach churned as she joined the line of eager girls. She leaned over and searched Sister Anne’s desk, closer to heaving than remembering about the collage or bringing pictures. But someone had brought them. There it was: a sealed brown envelope bearing her name, sending her fumbling back to her desk. Who could it have been?

  The first picture catching her eye was her as a newborn in the hospital, swaddled in a pink blanket and hat. Another had her standing between her parents in front of the Christmas tree. In a picture of her holding her doll, Sally, and sitting beside her mother, only Sally smiled. The next was of her sixth birthday. She knew that from counting the candles on the cake. Her hands holding the picture began to sweat as her vision blurred and her stomach cramped.

  She raised her hand. “May I be excused? I need to use the restroom.”

  “Are you ill, Miss Harding?” Sister Anne asked. The smell of bleach radiating from her crisp white habit became stronger with her approach.

  “I’m not feeling well,” Olivia said.

  How could she begin to explain what she couldn’t understand herself? It wasn’t the picture or the birthday or that she didn’t have recall of the day it occured. Sister Anne had no way of knowing that Olivia never wore her hair that way or smiled so broad. The problem was, the wide-mouthed smiling girl with her dark hair neatly brushed behind her ears, sitting on her father’s lap beside her disinterested mother, preparing to blow out the six candles on her birthday cake wasn’t her—she wasn’t there.

  She endeavored to stand, keeping hold of the picture. Her world began to spin. And as the tapping of her mother’s heels echoed through her ears, her knees buckled, sending her spiraling to the floor.

  When she again convinced her sluggish eyelids to open, a glaring overhead light and the pungent aroma of antiseptic greeted her. It startled her to see a needle connected to a clear tube placed in her arm. Although it pinched, she left it alone. The bed itself, with its metal guard rails, made her think of a crib.

  “My head hurts,” Olivia said to the nurse who’d come in with the hard face, clicking her pen. “I know I fainted at school, but why am I here?”

  The nurse raised her eyebrows. “Sweetie, we had a similar conversation the last time I was in here. Don’t you remember? You asked for food.”

  Confused, Olivia closed her eyes.

  “Your family’s down the hall speaking with the doctor. They’ll see you soon. We’re just running a few tests before you go home. Try to rest.”

  *

  The Harding family assembled in the conference room and mulled over the doctor’s report. Alexander pulled the photo his daughter had been holding from his jacket pocket and placed it in the middle of the pitted table.

  “She was such a chatterbox that day,” Catherine said. “I could hardly get a word in. Olivia wanted her party to be at my beach house like she normally does. We collected shells.”

  “I remember,” Alexander said. “She was so animated, excited about turning six. I think she smiled just like that picture the entire day.”

  “Sorry to bring y’all back from fairytale land, but no one remembers what happened,” Elizabeth said, slamming her palms to the table. “One of Olivia’s beloved shells found its way into my piece of cake and chipped my tooth. I had to spend the rest of the day in Dr. Fishman’s office, not that anyone missed me. We should have had that psycho-child evaluated then.”

  “Are you insinuating our daughter put that shell in your cake intentionally to crack your tooth?” Alexander asked.

  “No, I believe she wanted me to choke on it,” Elizabeth answered.

  “We’re talking about Olivia.”

  “Your daughter isn’t always the sweet child you believe her to be. Put any fancy label on it you want: psychotic break, break down. I think she’s crazy.”

  “That’s quite enough out of you, Elizabeth,” Alexander returned.

  “I’m just saying, maybe she’s possessed. Those Catholics you’re so fond of are big on that stuff. I’ll bet you could get them to perform an exorcism.”

  Nanny’s elliptic eyes held wide as she listened to Elizabeth’s assault, while Catherine’s hand covered hers in support.

  “I think she should have used a larger shell,” Catherine contributed.

  Elizabeth turned toward her husband. “Are you just going to sit there while your mother speaks to me that way?”

  “Let’s all calm down and discuss how we can help Olivia.”

  Catherine nodded. “I have a plan, Zander.”

  She shared what she believed to be a viable solution to her granddaughter’s immediate problem. She did so while ignoring the irate woman sitting at her son’s side, wrapped in his arms. With the doctor’s suggestion of a less stressful environment for the present time, and with knowledge of Alexander’s travel obligations, Catherine proposed that Olivia and Nanny stay with her at the beach house. They’d arrange tutors. No one mentioned Elizabeth in the plan to assist her daughter on her road to recovery. It didn’t appear she noticed.

  When approached with the idea, Olivia grinned. Once home with her grandmother, she adapted quickly to her new arrangement. Her tutors told her she was a joy to teach and not once did they threaten with the fiery depths of hell like Sister Anne.

  Olivia meandered through the water, carrying her ever-present bucket with the intention of collecting more shells. It was late afternoon, and the Florida sun lingered, glaring off the ivory sand. She glanced at Nanny who, from under her billowing hat, watched like a mother hawk, ready to pounce should she stumble into harm’s way. Her grandmother joined them, removing her sandals to feel the warmth between her toes.

  “I found some exceptional shells today,” Olivia said to her grandmother. “I think this one is a periwinkle. Is this a good time to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about?”

  “Anytime is a good time.”

  “If another little girl came to your house and said she was me, would you love her too?”

  “I would hope so. What’s this about, sweetheart?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t worry about such things, Olivia. There isn’t anything you could ever do that would make me stop loving you, and wherever you go, I’ll find you.”

  Olivia dragged her feet in the sand, contemplating
her grandmother’s heartfelt words for several moments before once again engaging. “I’ve been thinking about something else. Your beach house is just as grand and wonderful as Mar-A-Lago or even Graceland. It should have a name of its own.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but I’m willing to hear what you have in mind.”

  As they continued their walk down the beach stopping to gather shells along the way, Olivia shared her thoughts and her plan.

  *

  In a few days’ time, the aroma from the special dinner to celebrate Alexander’s return from his business trip spread throughout the house. Olivia had busied herself most of the morning, carefully displaying her artwork for him to admire. She ran as her parents pulled through the long, gated drive, to be there as they first noticed the mosaic sign crafted entirely from crushed shells that read CASA NONNA that had been added near the walkway.

  “Who put that tacky thing there?” her mother asked as she was stepping from the car.

  “The sign’s in Italian and made from shells. I believe it has something to do with our daughter,” Alexander said, admiring the artwork.

  “I knew I should have brought a food taster with me today. Your mother indulges that girl’s every whim. What does it mean anyway?”

  “Grandmother’s house,” Alexander said, smiling wide with Olivia’s approach.

  Olivia hugged her father’s waist before taking his hand so she could show him the remaining pieces of her artwork. She caught a glimpse of her mother’s disapproving face, causing her to drop her eyes.

  “You’re very talented. I love them all, and my favorite is your sign and the name of this house—Casa Nonna.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. I knew you’d think so. I’m glad you’re here. Cook’s prepared a special dinner. And I’m all packed. Grandma Catherine told me you were taking me home tonight.”

  Catching her in his arms, her father said, “That’s right. It’s time to get you back in school. It’s getting close to a month.”

  “I know,” Olivia sighed deeply.

  Once home, Olivia found herself faced with endless hours of studying for final exams. The end of the school year neared, and Sister Anne had warned their grades could haunt them for eternity. Olivia had all but memorized her textbooks yet felt the pressure.

  The frequency of her headaches had increased. She feared time was slipping from her day. If she hadn’t heard her classmates complaining of ailments of their own, she’d have been more concerned.

  Olivia yawned and then swallowed hard as she opened her notebook. Page after page of notes was written in a mysterious script, very much different than her own. She blinked at the precise accounting, and when it remained, promised herself to tell Nanny, should it continue, when the pressure was off.

  Propped on her bed and hemmed in by books while fighting to stay awake, Olivia awaited her father’s return from his latest business venture. Her hand stroked the downy head of her precious kitten, rescued by a groundskeeper from a rotting shed. She’d named him Domino, due to the two white spots that interrupted his black fur. As her eyes slid closed, she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

  “Still up this late on a school night?” her father asked.

  “I’m studying for final exams and waiting for you.” She reached to hug his neck as Domino curled into the pocket of Alexander’s jacket, making her giggle. “He likes you.”

  “Cats can tell good people from bad people,” her father said.

  “He hisses at mother,” Olivia said, her expression somber before noting her father’s struggle to conceal a smile, which prompted her to laugh.

  Alexander laughed in return, while he cleared the books from her bed. “A good night’s sleep will do more for you than studying at this point, judging from those dark circles under your eyes.”

  “I am tired, but it was worth waiting up to see you.”

  “If you hadn’t, I couldn’t have given you this.” He removed a ceramic black cat with crystal eyes from his shirt pocket and placed it on her end table.

  “Thank you, Daddy, I love it. I think it’s just what Domino’s real mother would look like. Would you mind staying with me until I fall asleep?”

  “I would be happy to, sweetheart. You know I love you to pieces.”

  Chapter Four

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth adjusted to Alexander’s frequent trips. To some degree, she found ways to entertain herself. The sting of exclusion, nonetheless, persisted. And as always, she treated her husband’s homecomings as special events.

  She knew she wasn’t the perfect wife. Alexander had cautioned her often about her behavior. He’d also told her, just as often, that her tongue should be in the Smithsonian. Elizabeth did what she did for the power that kept him running back to her, to ensure he preferred her company to Olivia’s. She’d never lost a disagreement naked.

  When receiving word of his arrival, she booked a manicure and pedicure, having Passion Pink polish applied to her fingers and toes. As soon as they dried, she entered a small room for her Brazilian bikini wax, scheduled with Sonya, the esthetician. Touted as the best in the business, the woman seemed to enjoy the pain she bestowed enough to make the procedure disturbing.

  Elizabeth slipped from her clothes, arranging herself under the sheet on the table just as Sonya entered. “Work your magic. Alexander is coming home tonight.”

  Sonya tilted her head in a nod and then lifted the sheet, spreading Elizabeth’s knees wide. “No worries. I’ll make you look like Malibu Barbie. Now you know the drill,” she said, turning to stir the wax, “butterfly pose.”

  Elizabeth’s smile stifled when piping hot wax dripped over her tender skin.

  From there, she drove to a quaint shop in a rustic part of town. The bell above the door jingled as she entered. Classical music played, a melody she’d heard at a wedding, or was it a funeral? She couldn’t remember which.

  “Mrs. Harding, it’s nice to see you. I got some lovely things in this week. Perhaps this ivory teddy or the red peignoir would interest you?”

  “I’ve told you before, Mr. Harding prefers black. Maybe you should write it down. I’ll take that lace negligee, and do you have the massage oils that warm when you touch them?”

  “We do. Which fragrance would you like?”

  “Make it peach. The cherry got a little overpowering.”

  Once home, Elizabeth went straight to the kitchen and located the cook. “Did you find what I wanted?”

  “I believe so, Mrs. Harding. Avocado honey, I have it right here,” the robust man said, sliding the glass jar over the smooth counter.

  Without another word, she took it, along with her packages, to the master bedroom. Sipping the honey, she enjoyed its rich buttery taste. She waited while its thick texture lowered her voice. Elizabeth then recorded a premeditated, sultry message on her husband’s cell phone.

  “Darling, I picked up a new outfit for you. Hurry home, and make sure you hydrate.” She sneered at the ease of her manipulation.

  Elizabeth checked the time while filling the claw-footed tub. She calculated Alexander’s jet had just landed. She knew it was his habit to clear up loose ends on his ride home. Sliding under the bubbles, she waited.

  As she soaked in the elegant tub, admiring its gold faucets, she thought that surely it alone was worth more than the entire single-wide trailer she grew up in. She fumed, knowing that without having to lift a finger, Olivia would never want for a single thing.

  When the water cooled, she dried off and got out before donning the negligee and testing the oil. She checked the time again and picked up her phone.

  “This is Mrs. Elizabeth Harding. I’d like to know when you expect the Harding Enterprises Charter Jet.”

  “Mrs. Harding, I’m looking at it right now,” the airport attendant said. “It’s been here for over two hours.”

  Elizabeth disconnected the call, dropping the phone to the bed before crossing the room to the intercom. She pressed the button that read ‘Ga
rage.’

  “Heading out, Mrs. H?” said the grainy voice.

  “Not tonight, Monty. But I am concerned about Mr. Harding. The airport attendant said he landed a good while ago.”

  “Yes Ma’am, and I drove him home myself. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Elizabeth ended the connection, then slipped into her shoes and pulled open the door. Walking with purpose, her fluid strides took her through the dark hallway. She continued until she noticed light edging from the bottom of the door—Olivia’s door. Her steps slowed at the sound of his voice.

  She pressed her ear to the solid barrier. Not every word was clear, but there was no mistake: they were laughing. What was worse, she was sure they’d made mention of her name with the damned cat’s.

  Alexander had cast her aside. He knew she’d have a homecoming plan of her own. But when arriving home, he’d ventured to Olivia’s room rather than to hers—for the better part of an hour.

  She’d heard enough, had enough, felt like throwing her head back and screaming. Instead, she ground her stiletto heel into the hardwood floor and ran back to the master suite. She knew he would join her, in his own time. And she’d make it worth his while. Didn’t she always? Guaranteed—his precious Olivia would pay for her aggravation.

  Chapter Five

  Olivia

  Summer vacation found Olivia curled under her covers, relaxed for the first time in weeks. She stretched her arm to feel for Domino but sensed something wasn’t right. He’d never strayed much farther than her pillow, regardless of how late she’d slept.

  “If you’re looking for that damned cat of yours, don’t bother.” Her mother’s voice crackled with excitement.

  Shock rendered Olivia instantly awake as she wormed over her bed, her heart pounding against her ribs. Pillows and blankets slid to the floor as she searched for her beloved Domino.