by Holly Jacobs
It reminded me of something Piper had written in Jenny Jangle and the Frisco Kid. “Love just is. You can fall in love after a minute or a week or a month or years. But once you love, there’s no taking it back, at least not if it’s a true love.”
Rereading her children’s books as an adult had shown me that Piper had hidden some beautiful gems in her fiction. Not just her way with words, but the sentiments behind them.
I nodded. “She always loved me. It’s on every page. Every single one of them. She built a life around me and loved me. Every day of my life, she loved me so much. How could I not have felt it? Even not knowing her, how can someone be loved that much and not be aware of it?”
Addie shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re right; it seems as if that kind of love should be palpable. And maybe if someone loves you that much, it’s hard not to love them in return.”
Suddenly Logan was in the door. “Siobhan?”
“Logan, is she okay?” I asked.
“She’s fine.”
I stood up, clutching Piper’s journal. I turned to Addie. “I hope your husband’s okay.”
She took my hand and squeezed it. “I hope she is as well.”
I noticed that she didn’t give Piper a name. I smiled my thanks as I followed Logan back into the hall. He looked as if he belonged here, with his scrubs and stethoscope wrapped around his neck. “They’re done with Ms. Pip and said you’re welcome to come back in.”
“They called you?” I asked.
“I stopped in to check on you,” he admitted.
I laughed. “Thanks, Mom.”
We both realized what I said, but neither of us mentioned it. Instead, Logan said, “Ban, motherly is not the word I’d use to describe how I feel about you.” And then, standing in a hospital hallway, he leaned down and kissed me. It was tender, but he was right, not the least bit motherly.
Neither of us mentioned the kiss or the talk we had about not pursuing anything more than friendship. Nor did I ask for a more specific description of his feelings. He walked me back to Piper’s room, where I scrubbed, gloved, and gowned back up before I let myself back into her room.
She was sleeping, which meant I had nothing to do but sit in the quiet room and think as I looked out the window at all the cars driving by. Snippets from my talk with Addie and from Pip’s books and journal wove their way through my thoughts.
You’re a constant in my life.
The weight of waiting.
A gift.
And as my fingers brushed my lips and I thought about Logan, Love just is.
As I watched the lights of cars pass outside the window, I mixed the words like a game of Magnetic Poetry.
Weight is waiting for a gift.
Love just is a constant.
I looked at Piper. She looked pale and gaunt. Her skin seemed to be stretched over bones, as if that’s all that was left of her, skin and bones.
Her breathing hitched.
I turned back to the window. It was easier. Easier than worrying what would happen next. Easier than wondering if she’d ever leave this hospital room. Easier than praying I was enough to cure her.
I plucked words from all my worries and made another Magnetic Poetry sentence in my head.
Easier than worrying.
Praying a cure.
I sensed Piper was awake before I turned.
“What were you thinking?” she asked.
“Do you remember those Magnetic Poetry games? So many thoughts keep whizzing past. I was grabbing words from all of them and rearranging them in my head like that.”
She nodded.
“I’m worried about you and wondering what happens next.” I didn’t say it, but I worried she’d never leave this hospital room.
“You worry too much,” she whispered.
“You’ve given me a lot to worry about.”
As if sensing what I was thinking, she said, “I could leave the hospital and get hit by a bus.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’ve got to stop worrying. I think we all have a choice. We can live worrying about what happens next. We can make all the plans we want, but eventually we have to admit we have no control. Once you realize that, it’s easier to live in the present. And my present is very good. You’re here with me. I choose to concentrate on that.”
“I loved your books when I was young. You seemed to understand the things I was feeling. And now that I’ve met you in person? Not only do you have empathy, you have a way with words. You’re able to put your feelings into words. You’re able to put my feelings into words.”
“I’m no Shakespeare, but I do love telling stories. But right now, I want to hear a story. So tell me another one until Ned comes back.”
I nodded. “When I was still in grade school, a neighbor lent me a copy of Zenna Henderson’s The People. Have you ever read it?”
Piper shook her head without opening her eyes.
“They were aliens who looked human but who had power. They were stranded here on Earth. Some of their people got lost. I wondered if I was one of them. For weeks I tried to move things with my mind or hear other people’s thoughts. I finally had to admit there was a very good possibility that I was human, not alien.” I laughed.
Piper didn’t. Tears leaked out from beneath her closed eyes.
“Hey, I didn’t tell you that to make you sad. I told you because meeting you was a relief. I mean, having magic mind powers might be cool, but I think being straight-up human, with all our foibles and intricacies, is even more wonderful. But best of all, knowing that I’m related to you is a treasure. I love your . . .” I tried to come up with the right words. “World view. I’m not sure if that’s exactly right, but I can see it in your books, in your journal, and even in our conversation tonight. I love how you see the world. You see the best in everyone. Logan told me what you did for him and his mom. You helped shape his life. Hers, too.”
“When I get out of here . . .”
“You will avoid busses at all cost,” I teased.
Piper laughed, which had been my intent. “Now if you lie back and close your eyes, I’ll tell you one more story before I go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Piper sank back in the bed, and I tried to ignore how small she looked against the stark white sheets.
“When I was maybe ten, my neighbors and I built a tree house near a local creek. It probably has a real name, but to us it was just Salamander Creek because there—”
“There were so many salamanders?”
“I don’t know about so many. We only ever caught one. But we imagined there were more,” I assured her most solemnly.
She laughed again.
Maybe I couldn’t do much for her. But I could do this. I could give her stories from my youth and try to fill in all those missing years for her.
The next morning, I woke up curled against Logan. It was becoming a familiar start to my days. I lifted my head and studied him as he slept. The sound of his breathing wasn’t quite a snore, but it was louder than his waking breathing.
By all measures, I’d known him such a short time. A moment. But he didn’t feel like an acquaintance or even a new friend. I knew him more intimately than I’d ever known anyone, even Carey who I had been with for eight years. Maybe not all the biographical things, but I felt as if I knew him, the inner parts that made him so amazing.
How had I gotten so tangled up with Logan so quickly? Was it simply that circumstance had thrown us together or could it be something more?
“You are the loudest-thinking woman I’ve ever met,” he said without opening his eyes.
“Logan,” I started, but I couldn’t think of what else to say. I knew he was teasing and expected me to tease him in return. He was waiting for me to make some sassy or snarky response. But I couldn’t seem to find my usual casual quips.
When my silence went on too long, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at me. I saw as understanding filled them. Without a word, he pulled me into
his arms. This was no friendly or comforting embrace. It was simply more.
And I didn’t just want more, I needed it.
Neither of us spoke as my familiarity with Logan moved to a new, unexplored intimacy. He was gentle, probably worried about my surgery.
And the feelings for Logan that had been changing became even more.
Chapter Nine
“I hate it when Auggie calls me Julie. I keep telling him that everyone calls me Jules, but he doesn’t listen.”
Her grandma nodded. “Julie is your name.”
“I know, but I didn’t pick it. Your daughter did. Jules is the name I picked.”
“See if you can pick out this knot.” Her grandmother handed her a horrible mess of yarn. After a few minutes of fuming and picking, Jules admitted defeat. “It’s totally tangled.”
“It happens,” her grandmother said. “Strings, like thoughts and feelings, can get tangled without us even being aware it’s happening. And before you know it, they’re in a knot that can’t be undone.”
“We’re talking about Auggie now, not the yarn, right?” Jules asked.
Her grandmother’s laughter was her only response.
—Julie and Auggie, by Pip
I held Piper’s book.
I knew that Piper’s friend Cooper was really named Julie. I imagined she went by Cooper for very much the same reason as Julie in the book went by Jules. I wondered how many little tidbits from Piper’s real life were buried in the pages of her fiction like Easter Eggs in movies—those little hidden tidbits that directors buried in so many films.
I ran my fingers over the cover. I’d picked up this book to reread one particular section. I flipped to the page I’d dog-eared.
“Strings, like thoughts and feelings, can get tangled without us even being aware it’s happening. And before you know it, they’re in a knot that can’t be undone.”
That’s how I felt. As if my feelings, like my thoughts, were a tangled mess.
I’d left my bed before Logan woke up, hoping to sort everything out before I saw him. We’d both talked about all the reasons why we shouldn’t move our relationship beyond the bounds of friendship. But I don’t think either of us had really tried to find reasons why we should.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, handing me a cup of coffee as he sat on the bench next to me.
“How did you find me?”
“Siobhan, you are not that complex,” he said with a grin. “It was an easy guess.”
I laughed and took a sip of my coffee.
“Should we talk about last night?” he asked.
“There’s not much to be said, is there? I was just thinking about one of Piper’s books, Julie and Auggie.” I handed him the copy.
“Here.” I pointed to the passage. “That describes everything about me right now. I’m a knotted ball of string. But there’s one small section that’s emerged from the tangle. You. I know you’ll be gone next summer, but, frankly, I’ll be gone even sooner. I’ve been in Erie longer than I ever intended, and I’m staying awhile yet, just to make sure Piper’s okay. But someday soon, I’ll go back to my old life. And I understand you have a life planned. But right now, we’re both here. I don’t regret last night. As a matter of fact, I plan to repeat it, if you’re willing. No strings for either of us.”
He slid closer, his thigh pressed against mine, and smiled. “I’ve become accustomed to waking up with you in my arms.”
“That’s good because I’ve become accustomed to your snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” he protested.
I was far more comfortable bantering with Logan than trying to delve deeper into what this new aspect of our friendship meant. I grabbed on to the snoring debate. “Not an all-out snore, but there’s definitely some very loud breathing going on. A couple more years down the pike, and it’ll be a full-blown snore.”
He wrapped his arm around me gingerly, so I wouldn’t spill my coffee, and we sat quietly in Piper’s garden, watching the leaves rain down from the trees.
Everything was a tangle, but I was right, the Logan string wasn’t. Whatever we had right now was right.
“Hey, Ban, your dad’s here,” Fiona called from somewhere at the front of the garden.
“He’s early,” I said, disentangling myself from Logan.
“He’s anxious to see you for himself,” Logan said. And then he kissed me tenderly. “I know the feeling,” he said then looked at me.
“We’re good,” I assured him. He nodded, and we hurried along the garden path to the gate.
“You’re here,” I called as I spotted my dad. I ran out to greet them. Well, run might be too generous a description for my speed. Faster-than-I-was-the-day-before walk with a slight hitch was probably closer.
My dad wrapped me in his arms but hugged me gently. “I am. I couldn’t stay away another minute. I’m really trying to give you some space to figure everything out, but . . .”
“I needed you, and you came,” I said, my voice muffled against his chest.
He tightened the hug.
When we finally separated, I turned to say hi to Margo, who was already talking to Logan.
“Margo, I can see you don’t need introductions, but Logan, this is my dad, Patrick. Dad, Logan Greer.”
They shook hands, and Dad said, “So you’re my daughter’s unexpected roommate.”
“I am. I’m not around a lot. I mean between school and work I basically eat and sleep here.”
Speaking of where Logan slept made my cheeks feel warm. My father noticed and raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “I wanted to talk to Siobhan for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”
Logan nodded his understanding. “Margo, I don’t have to leave for work for an hour or so. Would you like a tour of the house?”
“Yes,” she said, patting my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Dad’s new wife really was a sweet lady. “Thanks, Margo. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Logan made a face from behind Margo’s back. I didn’t need words to know he was scolding me for underplaying the surgery.
I ignored his silent rebuke and turned to my dad. “Why don’t I show you Piper’s garden?”
Dad nodded.
As we walked past Logan and Margo, my father’s hand brushed hers, as if he couldn’t resist the urge to make contact with her.
I never doubted that he loved my mother, but I was equally sure he loved Margo.
“I’m glad you found her,” I said as we walked into Piper’s garden.
“I am, too,” he said as we stepped through the gate. “Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty magnificent, isn’t it? Even in the fall as everything is dying off, you can’t miss what a special place it is.” I led him to the bench I’d just left. I pointed out a few of the plants I recognized now. “Fiona’s been teaching me about plants and birds. She’s better at the birds than the plants. Sometimes she points out something, gives me a long lecture about it, and then starts giggling because I bought into her fiction. I think there’s a chance she’s a born storyteller like Piper.”
“I want to meet her,” Dad said.
“She called to let me know you were here, so I’m pretty sure she’ll be out sooner rather than later.” He looked nervous and ill at ease, and I was pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with meeting Fiona. “What did you need to say to me, Dad?”
I could see it, his need to tell me something. It was something he didn’t think I’d like. I felt a spurt of fear. What if he were sick?
“Are you okay? Are you sick?” I asked.
From his expression, I knew he was all right. “No, honey, it’s not that. I planned to tell you sooner, but there was Ned’s visit and Carey, and then you came here. I didn’t want to tell you on the phone and—”
“Dad, you’re killing me,” I said. Not knowing was worse than knowing.
“Margo and I are moving to Atlanta,” he finally said, interrupting my musings.
I let out a long breath. “Okay. Why?”
He looked like a kid who was being sent to the principal’s office. “I was offered a position there. It’s too good to pass up.”
“That’s wonderful, Dad,” I said as I hugged him again. He wasn’t sick. My relief spread over me like a blanket. My dad was okay.
“Seriously, don’t do that to me again. Why were you so nervous?”
“Because this is not a good time for you,” he said. “So many things are changing. Carey. Piper. All of it. I want to be here for you, but I’ll be gone. We’re planning on moving over the holiday break. We put the house on the market last week. I feel as if I’m deserting you.”
“Dad, I would never think that.” When Dad and Margo moved in together, he’d lived at her place for a year before he’d sold my childhood home, and they bought a house together when they married. “I’m happy for you.”
“But I’m worried about you.”
The fact he was worried made me feel loved. “Dad, do you remember my senior year when I got so nervous about going to college? I’d always known exactly who I was and what I wanted in high school. But I’d achieved those goals, and I was moving away from you and Mom, moving into a dorm with a total stranger. I was terrified. I’d had to put undeclared down for a major because I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do. And you said . . . ,” I prompted.
“I have no idea,” he said. “But I’m sure it was wise and sage and all that,” he added with a grin.
“The only constant is change.”
“Well, it was wise, but it’s not original,” he said with a laugh.
“Ah, but you added something more original. You said no matter what you do, things change. You can curse those changes or embrace them. Well, I embraced them. I met Jaylin. And here I am, with a career I’d never dreamed of and a happy life. Even this—Piper, Ned, and Fiona—is more than I ever could have imagined. I didn’t know what to expect, but, Dad, they’re truly wonderful. I’m happy I’ve met them.”
“And Logan?” he asked with that all-knowing dad look I think he took a class on perfecting—a class he’d aced.
“He’s been a good friend.” I thought about how Logan held me at night. No judgments or trying to put moves on me. He’d simply been there for me. “A very good friend.”