How the Heart Runs

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  A series of deep tones chimed. Kate waited. Finally she lifted her hand to ring the bell again. But before she could do so, the door opened.

  Frank Miller stood on the other side of the screen, juggling a crying baby in one arm and a toddler in the other. The toddler, Anna, stared at Kate with solemn eyes before hiding her face in her father’s neck.

  “Hi, Mrs. Hanlon,” he said with a harried smile. “Please come in.”

  Kate opened the screen door and stepped inside, making sure the door latched behind her. She smiled at the frazzled-looking young man.

  “May I?” she asked, indicating the infant girl, Alaina.

  “Please,” he said with such undisguised relief that Kate had to chuckle.

  Kate slid her hands beneath the baby, supporting her little head, and cradled her in the crook of her arm. “There, now,” she said, automatically beginning to rock from side to side. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  If anything, Alaina screamed louder. She had a powerful set of lungs for such a tiny person. Kate shifted the baby up to her shoulder, rubbing her little back, and gradually the child quieted.

  “‘Laina quit cryin’,” observed a little voice from somewhere beneath her. Peeking down, Kate saw Adam, the four-year-old. Adam was always easy to spot at church. The little boy had brilliant red curls all over his head. He was looking up at her with interest.

  “Adam, say hello to Mrs. Hanlon,” encouraged his father. “She’s going to babysit for a little while until Nana can get here.”

  “Okay.” Adam didn’t seem perturbed in the least. “Hello.”

  Anna, the little girl in Frank Miller’s arms, took the news far less well.

  “Nooo,” she shrieked. “Want Mommy!”

  Kate looked down at the little face sleeping on her shoulder and was happy to see that Anna’s protest hadn’t awakened the infant.

  “I know, sweet pea, I know.” Frank’s face fell. “Me too. But Mommy is sick, and she can’t come home just yet. Mrs. Hanlon is going to play with you for a little while.”

  As the toddler continued to protest loudly, Frank looked at Kate. “She just woke up from her nap. You could give both of them an s-n-a-c-k if you like.”

  He took Kate on a whirlwind tour of the pertinent parts of the house, including the children’s bedrooms and baths, the kitchen, and the all-important TV and DVD remote operations.

  As they reached the baby’s room, Kate asked, “Do you think I should lay Alaina down?”

  “Probably,” Frank said. “She just finished a bottle, so she shouldn’t be hungry again until after my mother arrives. She should sleep for at least two hours now.”

  “All right.” Carefully, Kate lay the sleeping infant on her back in the crib. Afterward, she followed Frank to the front door.

  “Stephanie and I cannot thank you enough,” Frank said, grabbing his keys from a hook by the door. “I’m sorry I have to run. Good-bye, Adam,” he said to the little boy playing in the adjoining living room.

  “Bye, Daddy.” Adam didn’t even look up.

  Just as Frank was walking out, Anna began to scream.

  Frank looked apologetic.

  “Go,” Kate told him. “We’ll be fine.”

  Frank managed a wan smile. “Thanks again,” he said as he departed.

  Kate picked up Anna and smoothed her hair, which calmed the little girl down a bit. Then Kate looked down at Adam. “Would you two like some milk and a banana?” she asked. Frank had clued her in to the children’s typical afternoon snack—milk and some type of fruit—and had said bananas were Anna’s favorite.

  “Yeah!” Adam said. The little boy scrambled to his feet and went running to the kitchen table. “Fanks!”

  Kate moved to the counter. Still holding Anna, she awkwardly poured two nonspill cups full of milk and put the lids on tightly. Then she peeled a banana and split it in half, placing the two pieces on two plates Frank had set out for her.

  She set the snack on the table, then sat Anna in a chair beside her.

  The little girl shook her head. “Lap,” she said.

  “All right.” Kate lifted Anna onto her lap, pulling the plate close. “Here you go.”

  As Anna ate, she smashed banana all over her face. While Kate kept a steady vigil with a damp washcloth, her thoughts returned to Emmaline. The woman’s talent was staggering, in Kate’s opinion. But as talented as she was, she clearly wasn’t a happy person. And perhaps not a well one.

  Emmaline seemed so reluctant to discuss her health that it made Kate fear she was hiding something serious. Something like a terminal illness, at the very worst. The things she didn’t say would fill a book.

  The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly. Kate read stories to Adam and Anna after their snack. When baby Alaina awoke, Kate changed her and dressed all three children for a walk down the block and back. Before she knew it, Frank Miller’s mother was walking through the door.

  Kate said her farewells and left, plodding back to her car with far less spring in her step than she had going in. Her arthritic knee was still sore from the fall and she had forgotten how taxing young children could be, but the reminder was good. She was determined to ensure Stephanie had help for as long as she needed it.

  Sliding behind the wheel of the Honda, Kate wondered if anyone would mind if she just took a teeny nap right then and there.

  ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, Kate awoke with a vision. Her discussion with Emmaline two days before must have been working in her subconscious during the night, because all she could think about were irises. She began planning a large stained-glass panel of irises in soft shades of pink and lavender. In her mind, it was an extraordinarily stunning piece. She could already imagine it hanging prominently in the window of Smith Street Gifts.

  The iris panel remained in the back of her mind during her morning prayer time and throughout breakfast. It clamored for attention while she was bolstering Paul’s uncharacteristic lack of confidence about his 10K training. She showered and dressed in a trance as she thought about the detail in the piece. Finally, she rushed off to her studio.

  She hummed “Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken” to herself as she set out her tools. The old standard had been a mainstay of her childhood church, and for some reason, it had popped up in her mind that morning.

  She sat down at her drafting table, picked up a soft lead pencil, and took out a large pad of drawing paper. Carefully, she began to sketch the bottom of the iris stalks. The vision translated surprisingly easily onto her sketch pad.

  She responded with a distracted side hug when Paul came in to tell her he was off to the office. He chuckled and walked away as she kept working.

  An hour later, she added the main stalk and decided to wait to complete the leaf detail until she was finished with the flowers.

  She stretched, then laid down her pencil and rose. Her fingers needed a break. She would call Emmaline and tell her about her idea, she decided, picking up the telephone. Emmaline’s number was right beside it on a piece of scrap paper she had given Kate.

  “Hello?”

  “Emmaline?”

  There was a dead silence. Then Emmaline said, “Yes?” in a wary tone. It was clear that she didn’t recognize Kate’s voice.

  “It’s Kate Hanlon. I wanted to tell you how much you inspired me.”

  “Oh! Kate. Hello.” Her voice instantly sounded livelier. “I inspired you?”

  “Yes. Ever since you showed me your gorgeous iris piece, I’ve had visions of irises dancing in my head. This morning I went right to work sketching out a large panel I’m going to attempt. I hope you don’t mind if I played off your idea.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Emmaline said. “Isn’t it wonderful when inspiration strikes like that?”

  “It is,” Kate agreed. “Except that the finished piece rarely matches the image in my head,” she added with a laugh. “I suspect most artists feel like that.”

  “Frustrated by our limitations.”

  “
Exactly!”

  “I would love to see what you’re working on when you have time,” Emmaline told her.

  “I’ll have you over to see it once I’ve got the glasswork under way. Right now I’m still refining my sketch and choosing colors and materials.” Kate paused, thinking ahead. “Actually, I was going to run some errands this afternoon. I could stop by and show you the sketch if you like.”

  “That would be great,” Emmaline said with enthusiasm.

  After another moment of conversation, Kate said good-bye and set down the handset. She felt inspired by her conversation with someone who understood what it was like to create.

  Eager to complete more of the design, she took her seat again. She began to sketch quickly and decisively as the picture of the irises in bloom continued to flow from her head onto the paper.

  When she finished the sketch, she clipped it to an easel and stood back to study it. The trick now would be to make each piece of stained glass an unobtrusive part of the whole panel, so that the beholder saw irises rather than individual pieces of glass.

  As she worked, she thought about the new friend she had made. Emmaline sounded quite well, although Kate still worried about her health. That afternoon, Kate promised herself, she would ask Emmaline more specifically about her condition.

  PAUL WAS LUNCHING at the Country Diner today, so Kate made herself a tuna-salad sandwich and sliced an apple. Afterward, she packed a basket to take to Emmaline’s, including two jars of vegetable stew wrapped in cold packs, brownies, and a small jelly jar full of zinnias that had resisted the cooling weather. She slipped on a corduroy jacket and tossed a creamy woven-cotton scarf around her neck, then she placed the food and flowers in her car and drove into town to the library.

  Kate loved the library. It looked, to her, exactly like a small-town library should look. The old red bricks from which it was constructed glowed in the afternoon sun. A young mother sat on a bench on the edge of the lawn while her toddler cavorted in the soft grass.

  Entering the library, Kate passed the U-shaped counter and went directly to the office on the other side. The nameplate on the door read: Olivia Jenner, Head Librarian. The door was ajar, and inside, Kate could see Livvy, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, absorbed in some sort of large publication that looked like a reference volume.

  “Hey, you,” Kate said, poking her head into the room.

  Livvy glanced up, smiling when she saw her visitor. “Hey, yourself,” she replied. “What are you up to?”

  “Errands and a visit to Emmaline Ashford,” Kate said. “But first I’d like to do a little online research.”

  Livvy’s hazel eyes sharpened. “Anything I might find interesting?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said honestly. “I want to find out the symptoms of heart disease.”

  “You’re still concerned about Emmaline?” Livvy joined her as she walked toward the stairs. “But didn’t you tell me the doctor who helped at the Bristol didn’t think she was having a heart attack?”

  “Yes,” Kate said. “So I asked Emmaline what Dr. McLaughlin said, but she was very vague and brushed off my concern. When I asked him myself, he wouldn’t give me much information, but he did tell me very pointedly that Emmaline would be just fine.” Kate gave the words the same emphasis the doctor had. “She may not have had a heart attack, but I wonder if she has a heart condition.”

  She frowned as she reached the top of the steps and headed for one of the computers on the second floor. “Even if it’s a chronic disease, it’s as you said: heart trouble is nothing to mess with. If I know what type of illness she has, perhaps I can help the next time—heaven forbid—she has a problem. Plus, it might help me broach the topic with her better if I know specifics about the disease.”

  “Well, there are many kinds of heart disease,” Livvy said. “Do you have anything narrowed down?”

  “No, that’s just it. When she collapsed, she was clutching at her chest as if she was experiencing pain. But the doctor said her color was good, her pulse was a little fast but steady, and she wasn’t sweating.”

  “All right. Call me if you need a sounding board or research help,” Livvy told her. “Oh, also, a library patron asked about the babysitting arrangements for Stephanie Miller this morning. She had heard that you were looking for volunteers. She lives down the street and wanted to offer her services.” She withdrew a piece of paper from her pocket. “Here’s her name and number.”

  “Terrific!” Kate exclaimed. “We have people lined up to help for nearly six weeks. I’m sure Stephanie won’t be able to lift anything until her incision heals, so she won’t be able to be alone with the children for at least that long.”

  “Six weeks. That’s amazing. People are so generous when they learn about a need, aren’t they?”

  “They often are,” she agreed. “Thanks for passing that on, Liv. You’re the best.”

  “That’s not what Justin said this morning when I made him clean out the pockets of his jeans before I washed them.” Justin was the younger of Livvy’s two teenage sons. “I think he was growing a science experiment in there.”

  “Ick.” Kate shuddered, recalling the days of seemingly endless rounds of laundry when she had children at home. Laundry was one of the things she didn’t miss as an empty nester.

  Livvy went back downstairs, and Kate went to a Web site called WebMD, which offered definitive information on all kinds of health issues. She typed “kinds of heart disease” into WebMD’s search engine and sighed when a list of well over a dozen heart conditions popped up. Although she found several that detailed symptoms of the most commonly known heart ailments, as she read about arrhythmias, attacks, and abnormalities, she realized that she didn’t know enough about Emmaline’s health to decide which, if any, of the illnesses might apply. All she knew about were the merest hints of a few symptoms and Dr. McLaughlin’s assurance that Emmaline’s illness was something she could recover from.

  She tried “causes of chest pain” and came up with one thousand seven hundred and twenty-nine possibilities that included such diverse causes as panic attacks, muscle spasms, broken ribs and angina.

  Angina. She had known people with angina. Many of them kept medication with them that would give them quick relief if they began to experience symptoms. She did a search for “angina.” Hmm. It was the most common symptom of coronary artery disease. Unfortunately, most of the symptoms described were ones that only a patient would be able to identify: discomfort, heaviness, pressure, aching, burning, fullness, squeezing or a painful feeling in the chest area. It often was mistaken for indigestion. None of which Kate was able to say for certain were problems Emmaline suffered. Still, angina and coronary artery disease sounded like serious illnesses, not something that Dr. McLaughlin would have made light of.

  With a sigh, Kate closed the browser program and rose from her chair.

  As she descended the stairs, she saw Livvy helping a patron at the desk. Livvy glanced up and their gazes met. Livvy’s face softened. “Any luck?” she asked as the man she had been serving departed.

  “No.” Kate sighed. “I think I was indulging in a little wishful thinking, expecting to learn something from the research when I don’t have enough basic information about Emmaline’s health.”

  Livvy nodded. “You can’t make a diagnosis without adequate knowledge.”

  “Yes. Am I just being nosy?”

  “Concern for another person isn’t necessarily being nosy,” Livvy reminded her.

  “True.” Kate made a face. “I suppose the best thing to do is simply to ask Emmaline again.” She glanced at her watch. “And I promised her I would stop by this afternoon, so I’d better get going.”

  Bidding farewell to her friend, Kate left the library and hopped into her black Honda for the short drive to Emmaline’s home. The address was only a couple of blocks north of the library.

  Emmaline must have been watching for her. The moment Kate’s feet touched the weathered boards
of the wooden porch, the front door opened, and Emmaline said, “Come in. Come in.”

  “Thank you.” Kate lugged the food basket past her hostess, and then she stopped in her tracks. “Heavens, what beautiful flowers!” Kate said.

  On a long, narrow sofa table against one wall stood a handsomely sized vase containing an enormous flower arrangement in shades of pinks and purples. Kate saw roses, stock, carnations, yucca blooms, baby’s breath, Dutch irises, and more.

  “Aren’t they, though?” Emmaline asked with delight. “Someone from the Bristol called yesterday to see how I was, and they sent these today. Wasn’t that sweet?”

  “It certainly was.” And smart, Kate thought. Even though the restaurant staff had done nothing wrong, in this lawsuit-happy age, they were probably holding their breath, hoping Emmaline didn’t try to bilk them out of something.

  “They also sent a very generous gift certificate for my next meal there and a German-chocolate cake that was just made this morning.”

  “Goodness,” Kate said. “Not only sweet but extremely generous.” She lifted the basket slightly. “My goodies aren’t as sophisticated as the things the Bristol sent, but I can guarantee they taste good. Could I take this to the kitchen?”

  “Of course. Follow me.” Emmaline laughed, almost a giggle, as she led the way into the small kitchen. She was dressed in a trim navy sweater and matching slacks, and blonde highlights and silvering strands gleamed in her short, stylish hair.

  Kate set the basket on the table, then slipped off her jacket and scarf, laying them over the back of a chair before she turned to give Emmaline a warm hug. “Still feeling better?”

  “I am. I’ve overdone it a couple times,” she said, smiling, “but I’m fine as long as I’m careful.”

  “What might happen if you overexert yourself? Is there any risk of a relapse or another attack?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Emmaline said. “The doctor said to be careful, so I’m being careful.” She lifted the edge of the towel Kate had draped over the basket and peeked inside. “So what’s all this?”

  Kate drew out her offerings, thinking, Oh well, I tried. Emmaline clearly did not want to talk about her health anymore. Kate hoped the woman was being careful, although she couldn’t help feeling that Emmaline wasn’t taking her health seriously enough. Although, Kate reasoned, perhaps Emmaline was just tired of all the attention—Kate knew she would be—and wanted to move on with her life. Understandable, but still, Kate hoped that Emmaline wasn’t moving on at the expense of sharing her burden with others.