Unraveling the Pieces

by Terri DuLong

  “But you can’t control love, can you?”

  I shook my head. She might only be about ten years older than me, but I had no doubt that she was a wise woman.

  “Okay. I understand,” she said. “Do you plan to keep the baby?”

  On that question, I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Definitely.”

  “And I’m thinking you don’t want to return home to your mother?”

  “Yes,” I said again.

  She let out a sigh. “Okay. Then we need to figure out a plan for you. You’ve said that you want to take secretarial classes to get a decent paying job, right?”

  “Yes, I do. I have quite a bit of money already saved.”

  Joyce smiled and nodded. “Good. Okay, I think I have an idea. It will involve your leaving this area, but not too far. Are you willing to go to Jacksonville?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. Let me work on this. I’ll meet with you tomorrow morning at ten, okay?”

  I nodded again.

  “There’s only one thing I insist that you do.”

  When I remained silent, she said, “You must see Peter one last time. If you’re not going to tell him about the baby, then you have to break up with him. You can’t disappear without at least giving him that information. It would be cruel not to tell him face to face and give him closure. Can you agree to that?”

  I had been hoping to avoid facing Peter, but Joyce was right. I knew she was. And I also knew it would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do.

  But I nodded and said quietly, “Yes. I will. I will break up with him.”

  * * *

  Peter returned to Amelia Island two days later. I had a letter in my box when I reported for my breakfast shift, telling me he would pick me up that evening at six.

  I wasn’t sure how I got through my work hours. I found it difficult to focus on anything but Peter and what, exactly, I would say to him.

  By the time I walked out to the parking lot at six and saw him leaning against his car waiting for me, I prayed that I’d have the strength to do what I had planned. But seeing him standing there, looking so handsome, seeing the love on his face, made me waver. And when he pulled me into his arms and kissed me, weakness washed over me.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, opening the passenger door.

  I got in and remained silent. He then slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and headed north along A1A.

  Reaching across the seat, Peter grabbed my hand. “I thought we’d park at the beach so we can talk,” he said, and I nodded.

  A few minutes later he pulled into the area overlooking the ocean. The radio played softly, and if I weren’t breaking up with him, it would have been another romantic evening. But I couldn’t let that happen.

  He shifted in his seat and took my hand. “Rhonda, I’m so sorry about that episode with Marion at the restaurant. She is not my girlfriend. She never has been. That’s always been wishful thinking on my father’s part. I need you to know that.”

  I nodded but said nothing.

  “It’s you who I love, Rhonda. I always will. Do you believe me?”

  I nodded again.

  “I see a future for us. I want to be with you forever. But I need to know that you feel the same.”

  My hands had grown clammy, and I prayed that nausea wouldn’t betray me.

  I took a deep breath and finally spoke. “I love you too, Peter. I want you to know that. What I’m about to say has nothing to do with love.”

  I saw anxiety on his face.

  “As much as I love you . . . as much as we love each other . . . we can’t be together.”

  He attempted to say something, but I put my fingers over his lips.

  “Let me finish,” I said. “It just won’t work, Peter. We’re from two different worlds. We could never have a life together. You might think right now that we could, but you’re wrong. In the years to come I think you’ll see that. I’m breaking up with you, Peter, because neither one of us deserves regrets in the future.”

  He pulled me into his arms, and I felt his lips against my ear as I heard him say, “No. No, Rhonda, please. Don’t do this. You’re wrong. Our lifestyles have nothing to do with how we feel about each other. And if you leave me, I’ll have the regret of losing you for the rest of my life.”

  Tears slid down my face as I pulled away and saw Peter was also crying.

  “Please, Rhonda,” he begged. “Please don’t do this to us.”

  For one brief second I thought I might relent. I wanted to. With my entire heart and soul. But I couldn’t.

  I shook my head. “Take me home, Peter. I’m sorry. But please take me home.”

  As soon as I said the words, I heard the Righteous Brothers’ popular song come on the radio, “Unchained Melody.”

  Peter reached for my hand, exhaled, and shook his head. “This can’t be happening,” he whispered.

  Part of me was sorry when he did as I asked, drove on to A1A and headed south. And part of me knew that despite the anguish I saw on his face, I had done the right thing.

  But I also knew that like the words in the song—we would always hunger for each other’s touch.

  Chapter 14

  I hadn’t heard from Ben since the previous week, when I’d had dinner at his home. I had been thinking that perhaps our relationship would remain simple friendship and was surprised to discover during this time that I was disappointed.

  Although I had never been a woman who felt she needed a man in her life, I did welcome the company of a male now and then. My mother had raised me to be an independent female, so I had never depended on a man for security, but I had enjoyed the few serious relationships I’d had over the years. Still, they weren’t destined to be permanent, and by the time we arrived at the end, both of us had been ready to call it quits.

  At age forty-six I now wondered if I would eventually end my days as my mother had. Alone. Growing up, I used to question why she didn’t even date. From the little she ever said about Jim Garfield, it didn’t appear she’d shared a great love with him, which might have prevented her from loving again. So this was always a mystery to me.

  When I thought about Ben I realized that I also thought about Jonah. In my mind, they were a package deal. This also surprised me because by the time I was thirty, I was pretty sure I had been given an extra low dose of maternal feeling. And I was always fine with that. I certainly didn’t feel empty or like I was missing something. That was, until the day I met Jonah. From the moment I met him, I felt we shared an unexplained connection. And although he didn’t voice it, I had a feeling Jonah felt the same way.

  So I began to realize that I was missing both father and son.

  The ringing of the phone interrupted my thoughts. I answered to hear Suzanne from the shelter.

  “Petra,” she said, “I was wondering if you could do me a favor tomorrow.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “We have a benefactor who kindly donates items for us to sell. Elaine Talbot called and said she’s cleared out some closets and has a few boxes to be picked up. Do you think you might be able to get those for us tomorrow?”

  “Not a problem. Give me her address and I’ll be happy to do that.”

  “She lives in a condo at Daytona Beach Shores,” she said and went on to give me the details. “She asked if you could stop by around one?”

  “Yes. That will work for me. I’ll pick up the stuff and then bring it to the shelter.”

  “Thanks so much. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I hung up the phone and headed to the computer, where I was still catching up on business.

  * * *

  By lunchtime I felt I had put in a good morning of work and deserved a few hours at the yarn shop.

  I entered through the tea shop and found Yarrow behind the counter.

  “Hey,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. I’ve been working all morning and needed a break. I’ll have a cup
of jasmine tea and . . .” I looked into the pastry display case. “Give me two of your peanut butter cookies.”

  Yarrow laughed. “Your lunch?”

  I nodded. “Yup. Sometimes a woman has to give in to her basic instincts.”

  “I’ll bring it over to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said and headed into the yarn shop to find Mavis Anne, Chloe, Iris, and Louise.

  “We were hoping you’d stop by today,” Mavis Anne said.

  “Really? Why?” I sat down and pulled out the baby sweater I had been working on to donate to charity.

  “Because we want an update on Ben, that’s why.” Mavis Anne stopped knitting to fix me with a stare.

  I felt heat creeping up my neck. “An update? There’s nothing to report.”

  “Well, I saw the way he was looking at you on Christmas day.”

  “Looking at me? Mavis Anne, you’re way too much of a romantic,” I said, brushing off her statement.

  “I never claimed to be an expert, but I will tell you that the chemistry between the two of you is difficult to dismiss. Didn’t you go to dinner at his home last week?”

  “Yeah . . . but . . .”

  Now Louise leaned forward. “So what happened? Any mention of a date?”

  “No. Not at all. I was only invited so I could meet the new dogs. Jonah wanted me to come.”

  “Ah, so it was all Jonah’s idea?”

  I looked up to see the grin that covered Iris’s face.

  “Well, yes. Probably.”

  “Probably not,” Mavis Anne stated. “You have to admit that Dr. Wellington is mighty nice eye candy.”

  There was no denying that. Despite being a cross between a nerd and a preppie, he definitely possessed a good amount of sex appeal.

  I refused to admit this and said, “You women need to get a life. Stop focusing on mine.”

  Chloe patted me on the back. “Oh, honey, you’d better get used to it. Groups of women are notorious for matchmaking. But Mavis Anne is right. I was there Christmas day, and even Henry remarked that Ben certainly seemed interested in you.”

  What was I missing?

  “Well, I think all of you are wrong.”

  “Oh, by the way,” Chloe said, “we want to do another knit-along here in the shop, and I was thinking of designing something for you, Petra.”

  “For me?”

  “Yeah. I know you’ve been giving a lot of thought to finding your father. And it will involve some unraveling of information. So I thought I’d design maybe a scarf or a shrug, and I want to name it Petra’s Past.”

  “Really? For me?” I was touched by Chloe’s explanation. “That would be very meaningful. Thank you.”

  “Wonderful idea,” Louise said.

  “Yes, I agree.” Iris smiled. “I thought the scarf you designed for Isabelle was just beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Chloe said. “Yes, I’ve sold quite a few patterns for Isabelle’s Challenge. And all of us enjoyed working on the scarf here in the shop.”

  “I also loved the shawl you designed for Chloe’s Dream,” Mavis Anne said. “I think you have another great idea.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll give it a little more thought and then decide if it will be a scarf or a shrug.”

  “Have you been to the shelter this week?” Louise asked me.

  “Yes, I was there on Monday, and Suzanne called earlier. She asked if I could pick up some items somebody is donating. A woman named Elaine Talbot.”

  “Oh, Elaine is a wonderful person. She’s one of our top supporters for the shelter. You’ll just love her. But be prepared to stay awhile visiting with her.”

  I laughed. “Why is that?”

  “Her husband died many years ago, she has no children, and I think she gets lonely. Although she’s in very good health and is quite active with various groups, she always welcomes the chance for company. I went there once to pick up a few things for the shelter and ended up staying for four hours.”

  “That’s good to know, but she does sound nice.”

  Louise nodded. “Yup, she is. Comes from money. From what I hear, scads of it, but you’d never know it to talk to her. Her condo is simply stunning, though. It’s a penthouse on the top floor overlooking the ocean. Way too large for just one person . . . oh, and her three dogs. . . but she loves it there. Moved in with her husband and never left. Wait until you see her decorating and paintings. You’ll think you’re stepping into the pages of Architectural Digest.”

  I laughed. “It sounds very interesting.”

  Louise nodded. “Be sure to tell her I said hello.”

  * * *

  After skimping on lunch, I decided to have a healthy supper. I placed lemon herb chicken breasts in the oven and was making a salad when my phone rang.

  I was surprised to hear Ben’s voice when I answered.

  “Have you got a minute?” he asked.

  “Yes. How are you?”

  “I’m good. And you?”

  “Yes. I’m fine,” I said and was glad he couldn’t see the smile that crossed my face.

  “Good. Good.”

  Was that nervousness I detected in his voice?

  “Well . . . I was wondering . . . if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me?”

  Did he mean just him? Or, as in the past, both him and Jonah? Either way would work for me.

  “Oh, sure,” I said, feeling awkward. “That would be nice.”

  “Great. Are you free Saturday evening?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m pretty sure you like Italian food?”

  “Yes. One of my favorites.”

  “Good. I was going to make a reservation at Mario’s. Have you been there?”

  “No, but I’ve heard it’s good.”

  “Yes, it is. They’ve been there since 1956. It’s a family-run restaurant on South Yonge. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Okay. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Will that work for you?”

  “That’ll be fine. I look forward to seeing you.”

  “Same here, Petra,” he said, before hanging up.

  I disconnected the call and looked down at Lotte, who had been sitting by my feet.

  “Well, what do you think of that, girl?” I asked.

  Her ears perked up, and she wagged her tail.

  “I do believe Ben Wellington just called me for a bona fide date. Imagine that.”

  I smiled as I continued preparing my salad and heard one of my mother’s favorite songs come on the radio. “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers.

  I let out a sigh as I recalled how that one song always moved her. And I felt a twinge of sorrow for the love she probably never had in her life.

  Rhonda May 1969

  I had tossed and turned all night and finally cried myself to sleep. Cynthia had already left to do her breakfast shift by the time I got up at eight. I showered, dressed, and then attempted to have some coffee. But after two sips I was running for the toilet again.

  Sitting outside on the porch and breathing in deep gulps of ocean air helped. I was meeting with Joyce at ten and I wondered where on earth my life would end up. What she might have in mind for me. No matter what it was, it would be better than returning home and causing embarrassment for my mother. I couldn’t do that to her.

  And then my thoughts went to Peter. Peter. Who I knew without a doubt would always be the one great love of my life—and yet we were not destined to be together. Was I wrong? To deny him the knowledge of his child? No. I truly felt I would cause him more harm if I had told him. He led a privileged life, and without me as part of it, he was certain to continue with that life.

  * * *

  At promptly ten o’clock, Joyce ushered me into her office.

  A reassuring smile crossed her face. “How are you this morning, Rhonda?”

  I blew out a breath and nodded. “I’m okay.” I paused for a second. “I met Peter last night and . . . I broke up with him.” />
  She put her head down and then looked up and said, “I’m sure that was terribly difficult.”

  I nodded again. “It was. But he finally seemed to accept what I told him. That our lives are completely different and our relationship has no chance. I’m not sure he believed it, but he honored my request and took me home.”

  “Before I explain how I might help you, I want you to know how very sorry I am that this happened to you. It shouldn’t matter about your different lifestyles, but sometimes it does. Unfortunately. I just want to be sure that you don’t want to give Peter a chance to decide that. To make the choice.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not fair he should have to. So I’m making the decision for both of us.”

  Joyce nodded. “Okay. Well, I have a sister who lives in Jacksonville. Sebine is a bit of a free spirit.” She grinned. “And I don’t mean this in a negative way. But she willingly admits that she’s a feminist. Very independent. Makes her own choices. Lives her own lifestyle.”

  “She sounds interesting,” I said, and I meant it. I wasn’t sure I’d met a woman like her before, but it was the late sixties and society was changing.

  “She is. And she’s quite brilliant and extremely compassionate. Sebine is an artist and does quite well with her paintings. Her studio and gallery are on the same property, detached from the house. She has a large home and shares it with . . . her companion. Lillian is a doctor and has a practice in town. They met in Paris about twenty years ago. Sebine is now forty-two and a truly wonderful human being.”

  “Oh,” was all I said, still pondering the part about her companion. Did she mean a girlfriend?

  When Joyce remained silent, I said, “And she’s willing to let me stay with her?”

  “With her and Lillian, yes. She knows your story, she knows you’re pregnant, and she knows the circumstances. She would like to help you.”

  “I think that’s great, but . . . why would a complete stranger want to help me?”

  “Oh, you’ll come to see that’s just how Sebine is. It’s her nature to help those who need it. They recently had two fellows staying with them who were avoiding the draft. I can’t say she agreed with what they were doing, but she wholeheartedly supported their right to choose not to go to Vietnam. So the fellows stayed for a while to work and get money to relocate to Canada.”