Hearts Unfold

by Karen Welch

  Jack watched as the deep red blush crept up her cheeks and her lips parted in a silent gasp. “I thought you might like to see this,” he said softly, embarrassed at the emotions revealed in her face.

  Carefully placing the platter on the table, Emily took the magazine from his hands, and to his surprise, carried it into the front room. She returned a moment later, taking her place calmly at the table.

  “Aren't you even going to look at it, Em?”

  “Later. Thanks for bringing it. That's just what I'd been hoping for.” He could see that she was not about to go into the subject further. Instead, she turned the conversation to the problem she'd been having with the water pump, asking who she should call to find out the cost of a new one.

  Before he left her that night, Jack asked her directly how she felt now about saving that boy's life.

  “I didn't save his life, Jack. I was just in the right place to help him get to someone who could. I told you then that I didn't want to take any credit for what was clearly an act of God. I'm just relieved to know he's all right. It would have been tragic for him if he could never make music again.” Even Emily didn’t sound quite convinced by her reply. But Jack knew for certain there was more going on behind those intense gray eyes.

  When Jack had gone, she spent what seemed hours staring at the pictures and reading the article. Stani was shown practicing his violin with a petite, middle-aged lady at the piano who was named as Jana Scheider, his adopted mother. Did that mean Milo Scheider was actually his father? Other photos showed him working with therapists on equipment that had been moved into the Manhattan apartment following his surgery. In the background was a tall, pretty woman who seemed to be encouraging him with a smile. His sweetheart, or just a friend? She seemed too old for a lover, but then again, the look on her face suggested more than friendship. In the picture of him talking about his recovery with the interviewer, his expression was so intensely expressive, his right hand gripping his left shoulder as he recalled the injury. At the table beside him sat a very dignified older man, who appeared to be watching him closely. Milo Scheider, named as Stani's manager, wore an expression that Emily thought seemed fiercely protective.

  What she could not avoid thinking was how beautiful he was. She remembered his face when she had cleaned away the blood. She had thought so then, but now she was amazed by what these pictures revealed. It was not only his features, but the depth of his eyes and the strength of his jaw, together with his extraordinary coloring, that made his the sort of face a woman would want to touch.

  She pulled herself up sharply. What was happening to her? Had she become obsessed with a face in a photograph? She carefully closed the magazine and placed it in the drawer of the table by the window. Bad enough that she still had dreams of his eyes gazing up at her, his palm laid against her cheek, she was not about to let herself sit around fantasizing over pictures of a man she would never meet again. Surely she was too sensible to indulge in such ridiculous daydreams when her life was so full now of what she wanted most.

  She went out the front door, walked deliberately across the yard to the fence and turned to look back at the house. The night was clear, with only a sliver of a moon. The windows of her home were glowing with lamplight. She could see the familiar furnishings through the open draperies. This was what she had longed for. Home. A place where she could be her best self, live her best life. She breathed deeply of the warm night air, heavy with the scents of waning summer. Whatever meaning she might attach to the time she had spent watching over an injured stranger, it had nothing to do with the life she had promised herself here. Was she imagining herself in love with him because she had no one else with whom to share that life? Surely she was too much of a realist to waste time on such fantasy.

  She gave herself a stern lecture, leaning on the wooden fence rail, gazing at the house outlined against the night sky. There would be other times when she would be reminded of Stani Moss, other pictures, music over the radio, news of his successes. But to go into an emotional tailspin at the sight of his face on a magazine cover was doing herself a disservice. She would do better, she promised, at burying her memories, or at least hiding her feelings. It would never do to let anyone see how attached she had become to what amounted to a ghost. She went back into the house, determined to put Stani Moss out of her mind, at least until the next time someone mentioned his name or thrust his picture in her face without warning.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  James McConnell was home, and Jack suggested she ask him to act as a caretaker for the farm while she was at school. He had taken a part-time job at the hardware store in town and Jack was finding odd jobs for him to do, trying to help him get out in the community more. James, once outgoing and ambitious, seemed to lack the motivation to get on with his life. He was quiet, often brooding, and no one seemed able to draw him out of himself. When Emily invited him to come out and look over the work to be done, she was shocked at how gaunt and hollow-eyed he'd become. But he still had a grin for her, and they talked at length about her plans for the farm and her career as a nurse.

  “You're a brave girl, Em, but then you always were. You never backed down, no matter what came at you. How come no guy's been able to get your attention? I'm sure some have tried.”

  “Not interested. No likely candidates anyway. Who'd want to come back here and work the garden with me? What about you, no one special?” She recalled there had been a girlfriend when James first went into the army.

  “No one, period. I've got to find myself first. I seem to have gotten off track, don't know what I want to do now. I thought about the Peace Corps, and I might still try that. Meantime, there's enough to do around here. Sheriff Deem lets me know if folks need help, you know, older folks who can't manage like they used to. I like that kind of work, outdoors, on my own.”

  “I know what you mean. There's nothing like working the land, just being out in the sun and the wind. I've always loved it. It's healing, James. You'll find yourself out here, I know. Just keep believing.”

  He stared off beyond the fields, as if watching for something. “That's tough sometimes. Where is God in the hard places, when people are hurting each other for no good reason? When you see men die, or worse, and no one back here seems to notice, you start to wonder if God's on vacation, or just gone off in disgust. I know my dad would hate me saying that, but I have to figure it out for myself. You still believe, like you used to, that God is with you every step of the way?” They had talked for hours on end, that year when Emily lived in the parsonage and James was going off to war, but she was amazed that he remembered her theology after so long.

  “Yes, I do. I never doubt it. He's done so much to prove it to me, James. I know you've seen things most of us will never have to, but God hasn't let you down. Maybe some people have, but not God. I think sometimes he's very quiet, waiting until we're ready to listen to him. Sometimes when I pray, he leaves me to figure out the answer on my own. But he's there, even in the hard places. Especially in the hard places.”

  He smiled, just the slightest acknowledgment. “I'll remember that, next time I wake up in a sweat in the middle of the night. You're good to talk to, Em. Calm. Thanks. And don't worry about your farm, I'll take good care of things for you. I know you'd never forgive me if I didn't.”

  With a wave of her hand, she indicated that he should follow her to the barn. “There's one more thing I need you to take care of, or two, actually.” Turning, she sang out, “Cliff! Cat! Here kitties! There someone I want you to meet.”

  From the empty stall that overlooked the paddock, first one and then another gray tabby kitten leapt over the half-open door. When they caught sight of the tall, dark haired stranger, they paused and one arched its back, puffing its tail warily.

  “Oh, don't be so silly, Cliff. This is James and if you behave yourself, he'll see that you get a nice meal every day or two.” Emily bent down and scooped up the other kitten. “This is Cat, Catherine actually, and th
at rude young man there is Heathcliff. They're five months old and I hope they're well enough settled here to stay around if there's food. Jack thinks to feed them every two or three days will be enough. They're supposed to be keeping away the mice, so he says we shouldn't keep them too well-fed. But I'll warn you, they probably prefer milk and tuna to mouse-meat. I've spoiled them, I know, but aren't they sweet?”

  James scratched the kitten under its chin, rewarded with a loud purr for his effort. “Cats. He didn't tell me there'd be cats in the bargain. I like cats, always have. They don't expect much, other than food, and they take care of themselves. Come here, vicious.” He held out a hand to the still cautious Heathcliff and then gently lifted him by the scruff of his neck. “We'll do fine, won't we, Cliff? Although why your mistress here thought you looked like a brooding romantic hero, I've no idea.”

  Emily laughed. “I had to name them something. I'm relieved to hear you like cats, though. I hated to think they'd go unloved while I'm away.”

  “Don't worry. They'll give me something to think about besides myself. Funny, how you can start out believing you're doing this noble thing and end up knowing you just hurt a lot of people. It's easy to beat up on myself, I guess. But I know I have to stop sometime. Helping other people,” he paused to look down at the kitten, now curled against his chest, “or other things, I guess, does seem to help.”

  Emily thought about what James had said, as she sat eating her dinner, watching the sun begin its slow descent behind the hills. In the midst of his suffering, he was reaching out to help others, and drawing comfort from this peaceful place. Perhaps her unforeseen venture into nursing would help her move past this feeling of having lost something she'd never really had. Maybe taking care of lots of patients would blur the memory of that first one, although she reserved the right to consider him more than just a patient. He had been part of a miracle, even if she couldn't understand just what part he had played. Time, she reminded herself, would bring things into better perspective, just as for James time would help bring his future into focus. They had time, each of them, even though as they had talked today she had felt they were two old souls, who had already seen more of life than they might have wished.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The best thing about being at the University, other than the fact that she loved the rigorous pace of nurse's training, was being near Salvatore's Ristorante. Not only did she benefit from endless free meals, but after some gentle persuasion she was allowed in the kitchen. Emily had been cooking since before she could reach the kitchen counter tops, and already had a wide knowledge and appreciation of food. But now, she told Sal, she could learn at the side of a master; and she proved herself an apt pupil. Before long, she was given her own white jacket; and whenever her schedule allowed, she was considered part of the staff.

  Her particular interest was pastry; and she found an excellent teacher in Joey, who had been to New York briefly to study with his uncle, the head pastry chef of a big hotel restaurant. Joey was a carbon copy of his short, broad father but with a much mellower disposition. Always friends, now Emily and Joey were united in the joy of mixing and kneading dough, crafting pastries that both looked and tasted like works of genius. As they worked side by side, savoring the heavenly scents that filled the air around the big brick oven, they laughed and joked, or at times talked seriously of the things that concerned them both, gaining and maintaining their independence. Joey fully understood Emily's desire to be self-sustaining. While he appreciated the value of his position in his father's business, he longed to be out on his own, another generation of Salvatore's, somewhere far away from his volatile parent.

  Being so much in the company of her godmother's family, Emily found their habitual wrangling no longer disturbed her. Instead she learned to laugh at and with them, even occasionally joining in the never-ending debate. Here was a passion so unlike anything she'd known with her own family, yet she understood that the love and respect they shared was deep and binding.

  While Lil was still away at school, when she could get home on the weekend she often joined Emily in her tiny studio apartment, where she said the quiet was like a soothing symphony of silence. Emily resisted the urge to point out that Lil contributed as much noise as anyone else at home. She loved Lil, loved her quirky outlook on life and the way she found something exciting in everything she did. They became shopping partners, plotting their sweep through the shops and coming home to triumphantly display their bargain hunting bounty. They laughingly played along with clerks who mistook them for sisters and suggested they could share their clothes. While both were dark haired and slim, Emily was almost five inches taller than the tiny Lil, with eyes as pale as Lil's were dark. They were a striking pair, laughing and talking vivaciously together; and more than once they were approached by boys who were lured by the prospects of two such attractive conquests. In a matter of minutes, the girls had cast them off with a double blast of icy disdain. Lil was no more interested in a relationship with a man than Emily, although her reasons differed slightly. For Lil, only a musician whose talent equaled or exceeded her own would be considered worth her time. Emily joked that before a boy asked her for a date, he would have to audition.

  It was after one of their marathon shopping excursions, near Thanksgiving, that they stopped in at Angela’s before heading out to a movie. While Lil stowed her day's purchases, Emily browsed along the shelves of record albums that lined one wall of her bedroom.

  “You must spend a fortune on music, Lil.” She ran her finger along the rows of record jackets, calculating the value of such an impressive collection.

  “Feel free to borrow. I hardly have time to listen.” Lil turned to see Emily staring at a small framed square on the wall above the shelf. “Oh, I never told you about that, did I?” In typical breathless fashion, she launched into her story. “It was the most amazing thing ever. I was home from school last Christmas and Dad dragged me along to help with this awful party. So I'm watching all these people making absolute idiots of themselves, and who do I see standing over against one wall, but Stani Moss. The Stani Moss! You know who I mean, the violinist. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. So I took some food and went over to talk to him. He's really very ordinary once you get past how gorgeous he looks. I mean he's not the least bit snobbish or intimidating. Anyway, we talked for a while and then I got his autograph. He even said he liked my name, and I told him I was named for your mom. You know he was in some kind of accident that very night? I guess I was one of the last people he talked to before he left the party. Anyway, he's okay now. I have his new recording. We've got time to listen before the movie if you want to. It's not quite as good as his Mendelssohn, but it's still amazing.” Going to the shelf, Lil started to pull out the record. It was then that she realized Emily seemed to be holding her breath. “Em, do you want to listen to it?”

  But Emily could no longer hear over the roaring in her ears. She thought she might be about to faint for the first time in her life. Right before her eyes, written neatly in slightly blurred ink on a crumpled napkin, were the words “For Lilianne, All my best, Stani Moss.” The napkin had been pressed between two sheets of glass, framed by a simple wooden square. Emily struggled to make sense of what Lil had been saying. She had met Stani the night before the accident, talked to him, told him her name, Emily's mother's name? How could it be possible that they had both met Stani, Lil before and Emily after his accident? What were the odds against such a coincidence? She shook her head slowly in an attempt to clear her mind. She didn't believe in coincidence, did she?

  As Lil eased the record from the shelf, Emily began to back away, moving blindly toward the door. There wasn't enough air in the room for the two of them she was sure. Lil was about to hold the record up for her to see the cover. Turning, she raced from the bedroom, making straight for the front door. Angela was just coming from the kitchen; Emily caught a glimpse of her stunned face, heard herself mutter something about a forgotten appointment as
she pushed her way outside. With her heart pounding, she stopped at the porch railing, gasping for air. What had just happened? How could she have lost control like that? What must they think of her, tearing out of the house that way?

  She felt a hand gently rest on her shoulder and turning around, fell into Angela's outstretched arms, for the first time aware that tears were flowing down her face. As Angela led her back into the foyer, they almost collided with Lil.

  “I'm so sorry, Mom! What did I do?” She stared at Emily in mystified horror.

  “It's all right, Lil. Just give me some time to talk with Emily, please.” Angela's tone gave no indication she’d noticed the girl beside her was near hysterics.

  Lil looked for a moment as if she might argue, then turned back into her room, softly closing the door behind her.

  Leading Emily into the kitchen, Angela urged her into a chair and drew a glass of water from the tap. “Here, Em, drink this.” She seated herself at the table, folding her hands and waiting.

  Struggling for composure, Emily gasped, “I'm so sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me!” She sipped the water, wiping at her eyes with the back of her free hand.

  “I assume you saw Lil's little treasure?”

  With the threat of renewed sobs, Emily nodded.

  “Emily, I want you to listen to me, dear. There are a couple of things you should understand. First, I know what happened last Christmas. Jack told me. I know what you did for Stani Moss. I apologize for not warning you about the autograph, but frankly I wanted to see how you might react to it. The second thing you need to know is that Jack and I are concerned that you've been trying to deal with more of a load than anyone your age could be expected to carry alone.” Emily shook her head, about to protest, but Angela went on. “I know you're strong, but I also know how much has happened in your life in the past few years. First your mother, then your father, having to leave home and not knowing what was going to happen next. I blame myself for letting you go to Florida that first summer. I should have taken you here with me in the beginning. But Marcy is family and I didn't want to intrude.” Emily began to sob again in earnest and Angela realized she was probably being a bit ruthless.. But then again, it might be best to get it all out at once. Emily had been storing too much away for too long. “As for Stani Moss, Jack is worried that you may have fallen in love with him.”