Here in My Heart: A Novella (Echoes of the Heart)

by DeStefano, Anna

  “Dad?”

  “Hey, honey.” Joe’s weathered features broke into a smile. He opened his arms, and she walked straight into the hug he gave her each time they saw each other.

  He was a tall man prone to wearing plaid shirts: short-sleeved and linen in the summer, cotton the rest of the year, except for the long-sleeved flannel he preferred when their Southern weather took a whimsical turn toward the freezing mark, like now. Her foster father always smelled like the peppermints he kept in his front pocket, along with his reading glasses. And he always felt like security and home and permanence to Dru, even though she’d noticed him slowing down lately, and she and Marsha had worried since the summer that he needed to slow down more.

  She pulled back. She brushed a thick tuft of white hair out of his eyes.

  “Are you sleeping?” she asked. “You look tired. What are you doing out this late on a Saturday?” She didn’t have her phone with her to check the time, and she hadn’t worn a watch in years. “I worked closing tonight. It’s got to be almost midnight.”

  “Yeah, but this is important, and I figured you’d still be up.”

  He stepped past her. She shut the door and followed him into the parlor. He looked around and chuckled instead of sitting.

  “I can remember being in here when I was a kid,” he said. “Not much older than Lisa. This was the creepiest room, with all of Vivian’s clocks ticking and whirring at once, sounding off on the half hour while I waited for my parents to come get me. I’d broken her side window and a lamp with a baseball. She made me sit on that red couch and watch her pet a mangy old cat she had back then, until my mother arrived. It took forever. I thought for a minute that maybe no one would ever come, that I’d never get to leave Old Lady Douglas’s house, the way the stories the kids told said other kids hadn’t, because she lived alone and that’s what kids say about old ladies in old houses who act like they don’t like anyone. She couldn’t have been much more than fifty then, but she looked pretty much the same as she does now. I was terrified of her.”

  “Most kids are at first.”

  “Not you.” Joe’s grin spread lightness through Dru. Seeing him proud of her always did that. “You met Vivian when you were six, selling Girl Scout cookies. Of course, you wouldn’t wear your uniform like the other girls when you sold door-to-door. You said your pink dress would make people happy and want to buy more. You were already Miss Do-It-Yourself. You insisted on walking over here alone. You told me later you thought the cranky old lady who answered the door was sad, not scary the way the other kids said. You asked her if you could tell her a joke. Two hours later, Marsha got a call from Vivian demanding that we come pick you up before you talked her ear off—and that we bring you by one afternoon the next week, because you’d agreed to help her with chores around the house in return for making what she called pin money. The most fearless thing about you, Dru, has always been the way you unconditionally love people. You just keep loving them, no matter what they or anyone else say, whether they want to be loved or not, until they relent and let you into their hearts.”

  Dru shook her head and wiped at her eyes with the cuff of her sweatshirt, already missing her friend.

  “When your mom came that day,” she asked, “what did Vivian say to her about the window and the lamp?”

  Joe chuckled again. “She told her I should be in Little League, I had such a good arm. She gave my mom the name of a coach she thought would be a perfect fit—he was her husband’s friend and a regular at the Dream Whip. She said a talent like mine shouldn’t be wasted.” Joe rubbed a knuckle beneath his jaw. “Did I ever tell you I went through college on a baseball scholarship? My family couldn’t have afforded it otherwise. I’ll never know how much of that was because I broke Vi’s window. But she was right. Fred Bricker was one of the best coaches I ever had, thanks to a scary old lady all the kids in town were afraid of.”

  “She . . .” Dru had never heard that story, but it didn’t surprise her. Nurturing wasn’t Vivian’s thing. But she’d made a difference in so many lives. “She treated me like an adult from the start, I think. I liked that. She expected me to be more than just a kid, and with her I always was.”

  “We saw that.” Joe nodded. “Even before she had you working at the Dream Whip when you were Sally Beaumont’s age. It was good for you, gave you a sense of permanence. It was your first real friendship outside our family, except for Brad, when you trailed him and Oliver and Travis everywhere.” Joe looked around them at the kooky, mismatched palette of Vivian’s ancient furniture. “You started growing up here, doing odd jobs for Vi. She took a lot of time helping you become what you are now.”

  “She’s a special lady.” Dru had always admired Vivian’s no-nonsense, irreverent take on life.

  “She called your mother and me again tonight,” Joe said. “She asked one of us to talk to you about—”

  “Brad, and this crazy idea she has about us working together?” Dru had suspected as much as soon as she’d seen her dad at the door. Joe wasn’t one to sleep on a problem when it involved one of his kids. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “It’s late, and I’m tired. Brad spent most of the day with his grandmother. He’ll be back over here eventually, and I’ll deal with him; don’t worry. And then I’ll be by the house, if you don’t mind me crashing there again.”

  “Of course your mother and I don’t mind, but we’re worried.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” No matter how reasonable Brad’s arguments at the Whip had sounded, or what Vivian had said to him since then, Dru would make him understand why she couldn’t get sucked into doing things his grandmother’s way. Not this time.

  “Well, we are worried, honey. About you. So is Vivian. From what she’s gathered from Brad, things didn’t go any better between the two of you at the restaurant this morning than they did with her and Horace last night. And I have to say I agree with her. This has gone on long enough.”

  Dru rolled her eyes. Of course her foster parents would have heard about her and Brad’s showdown in the Whip’s kitchen. After what Sally and Lisa had seen, plus Dru and Brad’s confrontation yesterday in the YMCA lobby, the Chandlerville rumor mill must be in overdrive.

  “There’s nothing going on,” she insisted, “except for Vivian making trouble, wanting the impossible, and Horace and Brad indulging her. I don’t trust Brad. I can’t trust him. How am I supposed to work with him, live with him? Brad’s been talking with her about me for years, after what he did to Oliver.”

  “Oliver left a long time ago, Dru.”

  “And no one’s heard from him since.”

  “Your mother and I have heard from him, after a fashion, every month for the last few years.”

  “Wha . . . What?”

  “He sends us money to help with expenses. He didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Why?” Why wouldn’t Oliver want even Dru to know?

  “Because people keep secrets, honey. Even people we love. I don’t really know why he’s stayed away. He hasn’t talked to us yet, but he’s sincere about wanting to help with the kids. I think he keeps in touch a little more with Travis. All I do know for sure is that Oliver’s choices now have nothing to do with what Brad did seven years ago. And I don’t think Vivian’s do, either.”

  “He . . . Brad talked her into financing my radKIDS classes, after he—”

  “After he asked Vivian to let you move in here, and give you the manager’s spot at the restaurant? Yeah, we knew that, too.”

  Dru shook her head, wondering if she understood anything or anyone anymore. “You and Mom knew?”

  “You wouldn’t have wanted him involved.” Joe sighed. “Vivian asked Marsha and me for advice. She felt bad about not telling you, but we agreed that if she did, you’d never have taken her up on her offer. You were still so broken up about your brother. You were determined to blame everything that had happened on Brad. Eventually, things were working out so well, you hel
ping out around here and taking care of more and more of the business, it didn’t seem important that you knew how it all started.”

  “It’s important.”

  Joe’s eyebrows rose. “Because it means you might have been at least partially wrong about Brad? Or because now you have to either deal with him, or turn your back on the last thing his grandmother will ever ask you to do for her? If Vi really wanted to make trouble between you two, she wouldn’t have waited this long to do it. I honestly believe she means well. She’s convinced that you and Brad partnering up will do even more good for both of you.”

  “I don’t want more.” Dru was exhausted, and her night wasn’t over by a long shot. She looked around her. “This house has been wonderful to live in, but it’s not my home. And I love my job, but I’ll love the next one, too. Of course I want things to stay the way they are. But not like this. Working with Brad—pretending that doing this together would change anything once Vivian’s gone—would be wrong. It would be—”

  “A huge risk, hooking your futures together, even if it’s just on a business level? You’re right; it would be. And more than any of our other kids, you don’t take risks. Your mother and I have always been proud of you, Dru, because of how great you are with people. But you play your personal life so safe, while you focus on taking care of everyone else.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  So Dru wasn’t reckless. So what if she didn’t spend her life shaking things up? Forget about me, Brad had said. Do this for yourself. But how could she, when working with him might get her heart trampled all over again?

  “Is it such a crime to be satisfied with the things that are already mine? Isn’t that what you and Mom have always done, no matter how much more you could have had if you hadn’t taken in one foster child after another?”

  “Of course it’s not a crime.” Joe sounded as accepting as ever of whatever Dru decided to do, even if he didn’t agree with her. “But your mother and I have taken a lot of risks in our time, so we could do exactly what we’ve wanted all these years. And if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have had half of you kids along for the ride. There are no guarantees, even when you play it safe. And love is a risk you shouldn’t protect yourself from. When you let yourself, Dru, you love bigger than anyone I’ve known.”

  “I’m not in love with Brad.”

  “Then what about this house and your job at the Whip? And Vivian? Is not having to deal with her grandson worth turning your back on all of that? She wants to see you two letting go of what’s happened. She wants to see you, especially, not being afraid to reach for something more, once she’s no longer here to help you.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Getting the words out made Dru’s throat hurt, the way it did when she had a cold and she had to swallow whatever medicine the doctor prescribed.

  “Vivian’s offered to give you security, a permanent home here. And it’s upset you so much, you want to sleep on my couch again tonight.”

  This isn’t like you, Dru . . .

  Joe’s gentle demeanor evaporated. “Even if you and Brad end up not being able to stand each other, you can tough it out the next couple of weeks. Or is the problem that maybe you’re not minding having him back nearly as much as you expected to?”

  “Butt out, Dad.”

  Her outburst sounded childish.

  Her foster father’s surprise agreed.

  “If you two can’t get along again,” he said, “that’s fine. You’ll figure out what to do with things once the will is probated. But are you going to tell me that you don’t have what it takes to even give this a shot? You don’t run from things like this, Dru.”

  He sounded so disappointed.

  She couldn’t stand it. “I . . . I know I don’t, Dad. But . . .”

  “Aw, honey.” He pulled her into a hug that was exactly what she needed. “I hate seeing you tearing yourself up over an opportunity most people would jump at.”

  Dru laid her head against the shoulder of the man who’d gifted her and a dozen other lost children with the love and acceptance they’d needed to thrive. He’d been her role model all her life, long before Vivian had become one, too. Neither of them had ever backed down from helping someone else, even if they’d gone about the details of living in very different ways.

  A knock at the door broke the spell between them. Joe stepped away. She checked the time on Vivian’s wall of comically chattering clocks. She and her dad both knew there was only one person in town who’d be barging in at this hour.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Joe promised. “Think about now, Dru, not the past. Think about tomorrow. Be sure of what you want before you throw away something you’ll never get back.”

  Joe’s unhurried stride took him toward the foyer. She longed to cling to him, the way Lisa had last night, when the little girl had been hurting and afraid and needing things she didn’t understand. Dru wanted to tell her dad that for the first time since she’d left home, she had absolutely no idea what she wanted.

  Way too soon, Joe opened the front door.

  “Brad.” He shook hands before walking down Vivian’s steps, leaving Vi’s grandson standing alone on the threshold with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a determined expression on his face.

  “We need to talk,” Brad said to Dru.

  “We already talked.” She didn’t ask him to come in. After dealing with Joe, she felt sixteen again—staring up at Brad and needing him, wanting to trust him and hoping it wouldn’t be the biggest mistake of her life.

  He dropped his bag on the foyer’s worn hardwood and shut the door behind him. He was in front of her so quickly, she had no time to react. His hands cupped her shoulders, and hers instinctively rose to brace herself against him. He leaned in, kissing her as her palms absorbed the warmth and strength of his chest, digging her nails into the muscles she’d glimpsed beneath his loose clothing last night.

  Her fingers, her lips, were still clinging when he inched away.

  You couldn’t be in better hands . . .

  “No,” he said, picking up their conversation without dropping a beat. “We haven’t talked. Not for years. Not since you kissed me.”

  Dru jerked back, but not far enough. It would never be far enough if he could still make her feel this empty as soon as he stopped touching her.

  “Since the night you slept with Selena?” she asked.

  “Since the night I pushed you away, thinking I’d be taking advantage of my best friend’s kid sister.”

  “So you could move on to taking advantage of his girl?”

  “Selena and I were drunk and stupid, Dru. It’s not an excuse, but she and Oliver had broken up already. I was reeling from wanting you so much I ached, and telling myself I couldn’t have you. And none of it has anything to do with now. I made a mess of my life, you got burned in the fallout, and I’ve done my best to make up for it. Things make more sense for me now. You’re doing well for yourself, too. And if I had something to do with that, I’m done apologizing for it. Vivian’s not backing down. So we’re going to cut the bull and figure out how to put up with each other for a while.”

  “Oh, are we?” Dru shot back.

  Chapter Six

  “We’re going to talk this out,” Brad insisted.

  Kissing Dru had been a mistake. But he’d wanted to since that morning, since yesterday, since he was a kid. And he hadn’t been able to resist for another minute. It was likely the last chance he’d get.

  He counted to ten now and kept his hands to himself. It was entirely possible he’d come to the house spoiling for a fight, instead of driving straight to Travis’s place and giving himself time to regroup. But fighting with Dru, just like dragging her upstairs and finally discovering how good it could be between them, wasn’t what he’d promised his grandmother he’d do.

  He was going to talk Dru into not throwing away the future Vivian was offering her. He’d probably finish alienating her in the process. And
that sucked, when seeing her again felt as much like coming home as walking through the front door. But his reckless kiss and her sweet, unrestrained reaction to it were beside the point.

  He’d spent most of the day and evening with Vivian, wrapping his head around the fact that she was ready to die. Not in a throw-your-hands-in-the-air, “I give up” way. Vi was too gutsy a broad to succumb to vapors. Or to rely on anyone but herself to get her where she needed to go, however she decided to get there.

  But this time she was asking for help. His help. And Brad had very little time left to give her what she wanted.

  Her oncologist had confirmed the worst—the breast cancer she’d battled a decade ago had come back in the early fall, metastasized this time to too many organs to be operable. The tumors were aggressive, though she’d kept her condition to herself until just a week ago. The remote possibility of the success of chemo, radiation, or Hail Mary alternative treatments was too low to make their toxic side effects viable. Any potential cure would have killed Vivian faster than her disease.

  So his dame of a grandmother had chosen instead to face the end of her life on her own terms.

  Her mind was still as sharp as ever, when she was lucid. But he’d learned there would be days to come when she’d drift away—a side effect of the cancer invading her brain. She was losing weight at an alarming rate, unable now to digest without pain even soft food and clear fluids. And she wasn’t interested in life-sustaining assistance that would only make the pain hurt longer.

  “Okay”—Dru folded her arms over her sweatshirt—“talk.”

  Brad pulled himself together. Time to clear the air.

  “You should have called me sooner,” he said to the most beautiful woman any man could be this frustrated with. “I should have been here. I could have—”

  “Talked Vivian into staying around longer for us, suffering?” Dru was already grieving, like him. It was there, shifting like spring rain in her eyes. “I felt the same way last weekend, when she finally admitted what was going on, and that she’d decided on hospice instead of treatment. I felt betrayed. But then she said—”