Loving Piper

by Charlotte Lockheart

  “I think it’s time for 911,” Rob said, mostly to himself. He had begun to rise from the pavement, when he heard her moan and saw her begin to move her legs. He could see the faint crow’s feet fanning out from her eyes, which were now squeezed tightly shut.

  “Are you all right? Are you in pain?” he said slowly, enunciating each word. “Do you need a doctor?” Ready to spring into action, he continued to crouch beside her, focused intently on her and waiting for an indication of what he ought to do.

  Mum, I know this is not something you’re expecting to hear from me, not the best timing. I’m pregnant. Kathleen’s announcement echoed in Piper’s mind. She lay on the ground beside her car wishing she could be swallowed up by the driveway and transported to an alternate universe, one where Kathleen wasn’t pregnant and where she, Piper, wasn’t clumsy and in pain, and embarrassed, as well.

  She could hear her prospective landlord speaking softly to her, but she couldn’t force her eyes to open. Maybe if she lay still and continued to ignore him, he’d make that call to 911 and she’d leave, mercifully, in the back of an ambulance. She shouldn’t have worn the high-heeled strapless sandals that were intended for standing only, and Kathleen shouldn’t have called her with her alarming news. And she should have eaten, too. She felt light-headed, even though it was her ankle that actually hurt. Finally she opened one eye and stared into a bright blue sea of concern.

  She had the strange thought that he was too handsome to be a landlord...too handsome, period. His clear eyes and the smooth features that had coalesced into such a serious expression made her even more aware of her unglamorous pose and the humiliation that went with it. “I’ll be right back with…a glass of water…stay still,” he said. He sounded calmer now. “And a cold compress.” With that, he was gone. Piper was grateful to be removed from under the microscope, even for a minute. She closed her eyes again. “Cold compress,” she groaned. “It’s going to take more than a cold compress.”

  She wanted to yell at her daughter. After all, Kathleen was an engineering student, and engineering students didn’t get pregnant. She was too studious to get pregnant. Hadn’t she learned anything at all from her mother about teenage pregnancies? And what about the crushing load of assignments and labs and fieldwork—when exactly had she found the time to get pregnant? Was the sperm donor another engineering student? Had engineering students never heard of birth control? Then again, maybe the father wasn’t a student in the same faculty. Maybe he wasn’t a student at all—maybe he was an unemployed, dope-smoking kid with tattoos and an enhanced sense of entitlement who hoped to be taken care of by a beautiful, bright and industrious engineer.

  She pulled herself back to the present. Rob Mossman. She remembered his name at the same moment he reappeared and she realized the impression she had created was likely not that of an appealingly invisible, trouble-free tenant.

  He was now holding a glass of water to her lips at an awkward angle. She adjusted her head and water dribbled out of both sides of her mouth. He supported the back of her head and dabbed at her mouth with a dry facecloth, then pressed his warm palm to her forehead and remained unmoving for a long moment. Her eyes closed. A wave of relief flowed through her and a sense of safety engulfed her. She felt…peaceful…while at the same time wondering at the strange sensation and the intense longing to stay this way forever. Her sense of loss was immediate when he removed his hand from her forehead and replaced it with the cold compress.

  “Ms. Justice—Piper—is there anything I should be doing? Do you want me to call 911? Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Do you need a doctor? Did you faint…what happened?”

  Rob heard himself asking too many questions and felt skittish and uneasy. Piper Justice was having an unusual effect on him. He was used to being reliable in an emergency, take-charge and calm, and he reminded himself to slow down. She had to be able to get a word in edgewise if she was going to answer him. At least her eyes were open now, staring at him, actually. He waited for her instructions. When no words were forthcoming, he tried again, wondering about the severity of her injuries. A head injury would discourage conversation. “Piper, can you tell me what day it is? Do you remember why you are here? What is your name?” Rob stopped himself, and said quietly, “Even though I’ve just told you what it is.”

  She took a deep breath and held up one hand. The other went to the compress on her forehead. “Look, I’m sorry. Give me a moment…I’ll be okay. I don’t know what happened.” She adjusted her position slightly and exhaled, a loud whoosh of air. “Well, I do know what happened—I never did get my license to wear high heels and they turned on me. My ankle hurts. I hope I haven’t sprained it or shredded my tendons or whatever. I’d like to go slowly, but I’m ready to get up now. Look, I’m more embarrassed than hurt, that’s the truth of it. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to be such trouble.”

  Rob watched her closely as she made ineffective grappling gestures. She was evidently not quite ready to rise.

  “There’s no rush, take your time. And it’s no…uh…trouble.”

  “I suppose you were expecting one of those well-balanced, non-falling-down tenants,” she said, closing her eyes and letting her head roll back against his hand, which he had kept in place.

  Until she closed her eyes, Rob hadn’t realized he was being held hostage by beautiful green eyes, earthy and exotic at the same time. “No,” he said, surprising himself. “I was expecting you.”

  Chapter Three

  WITH A BOOK propped on her bent knees, Piper sprawled on a lounge chair in the backyard, listening to birdsong and the burble of the pond next door. Rob’s yard got the benefit of the pond without the work it required. She had been living on Minor Street for three weeks and, as she thought about it, was surprised at how quickly she’d abandoned her despair over the house. Until experiencing the basement flood that crumbled huge portions of the foundation of the century-old house, she hadn’t known home ownership to be an onerous matter. That innocence had been altered in less than twenty-four hours as the magnitude of the damage was revealed. She had been allowed to go into the house only to retrieve clothes and necessary items—the emergency crew had said the house would be unsafe until additional structural supports were in place.

  It seemed long ago now, sitting in the backyard with Deirdre, crying, miserable. The abruptness of the event had thrown her, all familiarity with her surroundings gone. But after the stroke of good luck in finding the apartment quickly, she had settled down, and the catastrophe felt distinctly noncatastrophic. Of course, there was still the matter of the cost of the repairs, a figure not yet reached as the work continued. Her insurance agent had backtracked from the initial firm commitment that everything would be covered, but Piper was determined not to spend her summer worrying about it.

  Manny was supervising the repairs, and he would be a bulldog about holding the insurance company to their word. Deirdre had said to give him full rein on this and Piper had listened to her. His pugnaciousness, which hadn’t been an ideal attribute during their wedded state, was perfect for this situation. Piper was going to listen to Deirdre.

  She found that there were advantages to living away from home. There was a feeling of truly having a holiday, not simply a lack of school and obligations.

  The white, fluffy cloud she was floating on, however, disappeared when she thought about Kathleen. They had spoken often on the phone and Piper had driven to Oakville three times to treat her to dinner. She’d wanted to check Kathleen out with her own eyes. No sign of pregnancy, but her daughter did look extraordinarily healthy and said she had been to see a family physician. Piper had brought with her an expensive prenatal multivitamin and mineral supplement and Kathleen agreed to take it.

  “Thanks, Mom, you didn’t have to do that. I’m taking care of myself, and it’s still early days,” Kathleen had said, tossing the hefty bottle from one hand to the other, as they sat in the corner of a busy vegetarian café.

  “Oh, darl
ing, I want to do everything that I can. You know that. I wish the house were livable, then you could come home, at least for the summer.”

  Kathleen had remained silent at that.

  Piper had been careful to keep her tone upbeat and tried not to stray into areas that had recently become verboten. But surely the mother of an only daughter had some rights, Piper had thought, justifying another attempt that day to pierce the secrecy surrounding the identity of the baby’s father. She ran over the conversation in her mind. Was he a student? Did she love him? When could Piper meet him? Did she truly want to have the baby? Kathleen had been uncharacteristically vague as she stammered and asked for time to sort everything out. Except for the last question—which she had answered by nodding and smiling radiantly—Piper knew little more than she had when Kathleen had exploded her news.

  Deirdre had counseled Piper to give Kathleen some room. She also offered to call Kathleen and have a chat if Piper couldn’t tolerate Kathleen’s “schedule of revelations.” Piper decided she could wait.

  In the warmth of the day, the heavy book on the history of farm production in western Canada tipped forward and lay open on her belly. Her enthusiasm for improving her knowledge of Canadian agrarian history over the summer was alive but sleepy. Wheat, soybeans, barley, canola… She thought about the federal government scrapping the Canadian Wheat Board. She opened her eyes briefly, clenched her fist and wrinkled her forehead as she mentally railed against megagrowers wiping out small farmers. A July copy of People magazine was lying on the grass beside her, waiting for her interest in grains to yield to Hollywood gossip. Instead of reaching for a little lighter reading, her mind drew her from the unfair farm economy, back to her fondness for grains, and then to her fondness for the wild grasses in this backyard. Rob Mossman’s backyard. Wild Rob Mossman, half-naked on the front of People—she smiled at her crazy daydream visions.

  Rob had one of those perfect, classic noses. Straight, no boxing matches in his past. A skin tone and texture that seemed almost too smooth for a man. And eyes that seemed too blue for an adult. His dark golden hair had a reddish tinge, which she found becoming. He needed a haircut, though, she thought. It was a bit too long, especially on the top, which had some wave to it. A good cut would make him even more handsome. Any objective bystander would judge him to be extremely appealing physically. To be that attractive and so likable. He had a gentle manner coupled with nicely developed confidence. He must be really good at something. She grinned and reveled in the thought that he was probably very good at touching. How much did she care about finding a lover? Deirdre had offered up her suggestion so easily, as if you could order a perfect companion lover like hot pastrami on rye. That was simply not the case.

  On the surface, Rob might appear to be someone’s perfect companion lover, but that was undoubtedly because he had yet to display the flaws, the big flaws. And she would never discover those flaws because those who ignored history were doomed to repeat it. Even pleasing physical appearances and personalities couldn’t disguise the fact that men and women were unpredictable and relationships between the two were difficult, and complicated.

  Still Rob continued to occupy her drowsy thoughts. She hadn’t seen much of him over the past week. And she certainly hadn’t experienced anything like the pleasant sensation that had flowed through her as she lay in his driveway with his hand under her head. She’d been in an altered state, there was no doubt about that. Upset, weak. And Rob had been very accommodating. Even his voice had soothed. Then, on moving day, he had taken the side door off its hinges so her bed could squeeze through the doorway and down the stairs. He had barely blinked an eye when he saw her open the car door and take out Plumpy in his cat carrier, though he had behaved a little oddly, walking around the car and peering in. What had he been looking for?

  And at the end of that tiring day, he had invited her to join him and his daughter, Jennie, out on the deck for nachos. They had chatted about school, Piper’s structural renovations, his daughter’s current favorite movies. Jennie was adorable and Piper had taken to her immediately. The little girl had begged to meet Plumpy and Piper had led her by the hand down the stairs to Plumpy’s open cat carrier. He’d let Jennie pet him and Jennie had fallen in love. Jennie had also been interested in Piper and her situation, particularly her house, what had happened to it and where it was. She’d begged Piper to draw a map showing both their houses. Drawing was not one of Piper’s fortes and the result was clumsy and not to scale, but Jennie was fascinated by it, running her index finger along the wobbly streets that linked the two houses. She treated it like a maze, using different routes to skip from one house to the other. She certainly knew her immediate neighborhood, Piper thought, as the little girl chimed the adjacent street names. Piper found Jennie to be playful, not spoiled, and was impressed that she had gone willingly into the house with Rob when he said it was bedtime.

  Since then, Piper had spent a weekend at a friend’s cottage on Lake Huron and visited small art galleries on day trips to two smaller towns near Toronto. She exchanged pleasantries with Rob and Jennie when she saw them, but they were usually up and out early in the morning, Jennie bound for day care, Rob to his nearby office. Occasionally she noticed a lack of noise upstairs and wondered if they were away. Jennie sometimes had a friend over in the afternoon when her babysitter brought her home from the day care, and on more than one occasion the little girl had knocked timidly on Piper’s door and asked if she could see Plumpy, just for a minute. True to her word, Jennie was satisfied to slowly approach Plumpy, pet him lightly and then run out. She always thanked Piper.

  Rob was more solitary and Piper had not seen any visitors. There had been no more invitations to join them on the deck overlooking the backyard.

  Piper wondered about their lives. Was there a mother of Jennie somewhere, a wife of Rob? Nothing had been mentioned, no references to someone missing. She and Rob were not well enough acquainted for her to ask casually. Maybe there had been a messy divorce, and the subject of mommy was banned from conversation. Well, it was none of her business. She shifted her position on the lounger, irritated by the fact that all thoughts took the turn leading to Rob. She was not interested in the domestic affairs of Rob Mossman, any more than she was interested in the man himself. He was very nice and very good-looking and seemed kind, radiated appealing warmth; if he wasn’t tethered to someone at this point it was certainly in his future. For Piper, he was her landlord—and temporary, at that—nothing more.

  She was protesting too much, she thought. The best way to short-circuit these unwanted speculations was to resume reading, but she was unable to coax her eyes to remain open. She drifted off into what her fuzzy brain was calling the best nap she had ever experienced in the hour leading up to noon. In her vivid dream, Rob appeared. They were obviously on some mission, charging down a busy sidewalk, and he was pulling her along faster than she felt comfortable going. Both of them were laughing at something that wasn’t clear to her. Then he stopped abruptly, forcing pedestrians to flow around their small island. He put one hand on her back, the other behind her head, and gently kissed her. The kiss deepened and lengthened and then she was lying on the cushy sidewalk with him. There was a sense of normalcy about the situation, and the way he cradled her head and said her name…

  “Piper…Piper.” From a distance, she heard the deep voice repeating her name. Her eyes flew open.

  “Piper, I’m really sorry to disturb you like this,” Rob said.

  “No, that’s fine. As you can see, I’m…ah…not awfully busy,” she said, giving her head a shake to try to clear away the remnants of the dream. Piper had a bizarre urge to prolong the dream, to pull Rob down on the lounge with her. But the tone of his voice was verging on urgent, a wake-up call with an edge.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said again. “And I feel I don’t really know you well enough to be asking you for a favor, but, uh, something’s come up.”

  She stared into deep blue eyes,
marveling at their shade. Again, she thought, wasn’t it only babies who had that particular color of eyes, and they usually lost it after a short while. He must have been a beautiful ba—

  “Uh, Piper, are you still with me?”

  “Oh! Yes, of course, I am…just a little discombobulated, you know how naps are…take time to recover from and—wait! Is everything all right? Jennie? You?”

  “Yes, no, I mean, there’s no emergency, just a small problem—and a huge favor to ask of you. Jennie’s day care called. Her tummy’s upset, Mrs. Small said, and she’s out of sorts, not herself. Mrs. Small thinks it’s a flu that’s going around and asked if I could come to pick her up. I have a meeting this afternoon, in about half an hour.” Rob rubbed his face, evidently stressed. “It’s been set up for months and I’m afraid to cancel it because the rescheduling would be a nightmare. I’ve tried to get hold of her regular babysit—”

  “Rob, I’m happy to go get her, poor little thing. Give me a moment to put on some shoes and grab my bag. Can you jot down the directions and just give them a quick call to let them know that I’ll be the one picking up Jennie?”

  Piper snapped into the world of responsibility quickly and hustled to get ready. She felt for the little girl. Though Piper hadn’t spent much time with her, Jennie had indicated she loved her day care, particularly Mrs. Small, and so she must certainly be feeling unwell to want to leave in the middle of the day. Piper sympathized with Rob’s situation, as well. Single parenting was not for the faint of heart.