Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (15 page)

I nodded. “I remember you told me about that.”

“So many of Ms. Pip’s personal philosophies weave their way into her stories,” he said as an aside. “Anyway, this rock reminds me to keep trying.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment. Next to Piper and you, I feel like a slacker.”

Feeding the hungry, taking care of the sick—they seemed to be too good to be true. I don’t think I ever did anything particularly bad, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever done anything that particularly good, either. Something that made a difference.

Logan snorted. “Yeah, you’re so utterly selfish. I mean, you came to Erie and just went through a major medical procedure to help someone out. Do you remember what you said to me when you were coming out of anesthesia?”

I shook my head.

“You said, ‘I’d do that again.’” Logan reached out and touched my cheek, just the slightest brush of his finger against my skin. He pulled his hand back and said, “I’m thinking saving a life is considered pretty altruistic.”

“How could I not help her?”

“You could have shut the door on Ned, but you didn’t. So, let’s just say that I think you’re very much Ms. Pip’s daughter. That being said, I’m off to bed. It was a long, long night.” He started toward the sink as if he was ready to do the dishes.

“Nope. I’m certainly well enough to rinse a few plates. Leave them.”

“You’re very bossy,” he said with a laugh.

“Scary. You forgot; I’m scary.”

He snorted but left the dishes.

After I finished the dishes, I went back to the couch. Cooking and dishes had taken more out of me than I thought. I was not a good patient I realized. But I dozed off for a while and woke when my cell phone buzzed. Jaylin was Skyping me.

I pushed the button and smiled when I saw her. “How’s business? I should be back to work next week—” I started.

“No you won’t. You aren’t touching a bit of work for at least another week. I read up on this. You need to take things easy, and I know you. I bet you’re already plotting some way to do something.” She gave me her stern-Jaylin look.

I laughed. “I might have made a quiche this morning.”

She snorted in a rather Logan-esque way. “I do know you so well.”

“So everything’s okay?”

“Blakesley called and wants a few more
little
changes. We once again had the there’s-no-such-thing-as-a-little-change-in-programing discussion, but he was adamant. I gave him an estimate on how many more billable hours he’d see because of that little change. He told me go ahead.”

“I could take a look,” I offered.

“Or you could lie back against that comfy-looking pillow and take a nap.”

I laughed. “You are very bossy.”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t just call to check on you. I wanted to let you know that Carey’s been calling me. He wants to know where you are.”

I sighed. “He’s called me, too. I finally blocked his phone number.”

“Rumor has it that living with his mom’s not going so hot. Poor Carey,” she said without an ounce of sympathy. “You’re well rid of him.”

“I know. You tried to tell me, but I guess it was one of those I-had-to-figure-it-out-for-myself things.”

“You’re worth more than Carey, Siobhan. You deserve a man who puts you first. A good man.”

As she said the words, I had a mental image of Logan.

Love just is. You can fall in love after a minute or a week or a month or years. But once you’re in love, there’s no taking it back, at least not if it’s a true love.

—Jenny Jangle and the Frisco Kid
, by Pip

On Thursday, I convinced Logan—aka my jailor—that I was indeed well enough to go to the hospital and see Piper. Granted, I was still walking as if I were twice my age. I wasn’t really in pain now as much as I had an ever-present ache. I was aware of every movement. And I was ridiculously tired.

I would rather deal with pain and discomfort than the exhaustion. I was not a sit-around-doing-nothing sort of person. And though work was a lot of sitting around, I was too tired to concentrate.

I’d dressed for comfort, not style. My yoga pants, oversize sweatshirt, and Uggs wouldn’t grace any fashion runway, but they were comfortable.

As we slowly entered the hospital, I really thought that a wheelchair ride to Piper’s room might not be such a bad idea. But I knew Logan would simply get me in a chair and wheel me home. So I made it under my own steam.

Slowly, but I made it.

Logan had to work . I’d ridden to the hospital with him, and Tricia had said she’d give me a ride home. I might have received a brief parole from the house, but no one would hear about me driving.

“Listen, if there’s any problem, you call me. I’ll have my cell on me all night. And I can literally be here in minutes,” Logan said. “I’ll check on you if I have a break.”

I nodded as I gowned up, scrubbed my hands, and added gloves and a mask. “I’ll call if there’s a problem, I promise. But there won’t be. I’m just going to sit in Piper’s room rather than sit at home.”

Neither of us commented on the fact that I referred to the house we were sharing as home, but I realized that’s exactly what it felt like. The house in Ohio that I’d shared with Carey seemed very distant. Like a memory.

I could almost hear the squeaky floorboard. I remembered the spot I’d dinged with the coffee table as we moved it in. But those were just memories. The house felt like a memory of a place that used to be home.

“And listen,” Logan continued. “I want to be sure you understand that Ms. Pip’s not going to look better today. As a matter of fact, she looks worse. That doesn’t mean this isn’t going to work.”

I nodded again as if I understood, but as I walked into the room, I knew I hadn’t really been prepared. Piper had on a rose-colored scarf this time. She was in the center of the bed and looked cadaverous. Her mouth had open sores and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had IV lines pumping her full of fluids.

Ned was sleeping in the chair next to the bed. He’d been with her almost constantly since the procedure. He startled and sat up as I entered the room.

“You shouldn’t be up and about,” he said by way of greeting.

“Thanks. Logan’s already said as much.” After I disagreed with Ned’s diagnosis, I’m pretty sure the word
stubborn
was muttered under his breath. When he realized I’d overheard him, he said it louder just to be sure I understood his opinion.

I looked at Ned. I knew that I looked worse for wear, but Ned looked like he should be in a bed next to Piper. “Listen, why don’t you move out of that very comfortable-looking chair and go home for a bit. Visit Fiona, get a shower, maybe lie down for a nap. I’ll stay here.”

“You’re the one who needs—”

“—to be in that chair,” I said, interrupting him. Then I added, “You keep saying I’m part of the family. Well, prove it. Let me sit with Piper for a bit like a member of the family would.” It was a low blow. I knew it was. But it had the desired effect.

“I’ll be back later,” he said, rising.

“I’ll stay with her, and I swear I’ll call if they need you here.”

“I’m fine,” Piper said, opening her eyes and speaking as if she had a mouth full of crackers. “Go see Fi.”

Ned bent as if to kiss Piper; then he remembered and stood up again. “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. I want to spend time with Siobhan.” It was easy to see each word took effort. I knew the sores—a side effect from the drugs that had eliminated her own immune system—covered the inside of her mouth, too.

I lowered myself into the chair as, with another backward look, Ned left.

“I didn’t mean to be presumptuous, but he needed a break,” I said. Then I realized that more than anyone Piper needed a break, but there was no way to offer her any respite.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” I adjusted myself in the chair, wincing a bit as I aggravated the tender site. “I know we haven’t had a lot of real time to spend together, but I’ve been reading your journal. Every letter is like a conversation with you. I love when you tell me about what’s going on in your life. And I was thinking that I wish I had something like it to give you. If I’d known, I’d have kept a journal throughout my childhood so I could give it to you now.”

She offered me a small smile. “I would have liked that.”

“I thought instead, I’d tell you a few stories from my childhood. I was trying to remember things I thought you’d like to know about—”

“Anything and everything,” she said.

“If you lie back and close your eyes and rest, I’ll do my best. I thought I’d start with Christmas when I was eight or nine.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes.

I said, “Mom and Dad had a tradition. They had to go downstairs first on Christmas morning. They’d light the tree and Dad—a coffee addict—would start the pot before they called me down. I remember sitting at the top of the stairs. There was a bend in the stairway so I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear Mom and Dad as they got everything ready.”

I closed my own eyes. I could remember the scene. The smell of a live tree. The sound of the coffeemaker. Mom and Dad whispering, sometimes laughing.

“Then they’d call me. I tore down that year and went straight to the box with the holly wrapping paper. I’d toyed with it enough to know that it was heavy. I’d shaken it, but that didn’t provide any clues.”

I remembered that sense of anticipation and excitement. Mom loved to torture me with presents, so she’d wrap them and set them out early so I’d have weeks to try and guess what each box contained. That was half the fun.

This particular present had driven me crazy. “I tore into the wrapping paper and found it was full of books. They hadn’t rattled because Mom had cushioned the stack with wadded-up paper. I still have all of them. Mom used to tease me about being a book hoarder.” I added the point of this particular memory. “There was one of yours there.”

“Which one?”

“
Belinda Mae’s Very Bad Year
.”

She smiled and nodded.

“I loved the series. I enjoyed that you aged Belinda Mae in the stories. I wish I could say I read that one first, but there was a three-volume collection of Nancy Drew books. I’d read all the Trixie Beldens, and Mom had found another teenage sleuth to pick up my reading slack. I was convinced I was going to be a world-famous detective someday.”

I’d thought I’d travel the world, solving mysteries like Trixie. Instead, I worked from home like Piper. And I didn’t mind being a homebody at all. I thought again about my house in Port Clinton, and I realized again that it no longer felt like home.

“I opened that Nancy Drew book and started reading. I only stopped when Mom said it was time for breakfast. And by dinner, I’d read the first book and half of the second. After we finished, Dad casually asked if I wanted to finish opening my presents. That’s when I realized that after that first box, I hadn’t opened any of the rest of my presents.”

Piper smiled at my story. “They sound wonderful.”

“They were. I read the journal entry where you talk about starting Amanda’s Pantry. I wanted you to know I was never hungry and I was always loved.

“I’m still sorting out everything—all my feelings—but I do know that giving me up hurt you. I also know you wanted to give me a happy childhood, and you did that. And though it’s taken me some time to get here, I wanted to say I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I’m getting to spend time with you, Fiona, and Ned.”

“I’m so glad,” she said thickly. “Tell me another story?”

I hadn’t thought of a second story, but I immediately knew which one to tell. “I was the last girl in my class to need a bra. Not that I didn’t make Mom buy me some. But it was like putting a pebble in a slingshot . . .”

I continued regaling her with stories from my childhood. And I watched as she fought against falling asleep. I finally said, “It’s okay. I’ll come back tomorrow, and I’ll think of some more stories for you. I’ll ask Dad to come up with some, too.”

When the nurse came to ask me to give them some privacy, I tore off the gown and gloves, picked up my things, and walked down the hall looking for someplace to hide. We’d passed a chapel on the way in, so that’s where I headed.

I sank onto a seat and stared at nothing as I thought about Piper’s journal and my attempt to give her a taste of the same through my silly stories.

I knew I hadn’t come close, because while Piper had shared stories, she’d actually shared so much more. It was as if she had opened a vein on every page of that journal and let raw emotions bleed out.

I’d given her stories but not that emotional wallop.

I ran my finger across the cover of the journal. I’m not sure why I’d tucked it in my purse when we’d come, but I had.

I was about halfway through reading it. I was taking it slowly because I knew I’d never read it for the first time again. I opened the journal and reread a piece of today’s entry.

I don’t want this journal to come off as if I regret giving you up for adoption. I don’t. But knowing I did the right thing doesn’t mean I forgot about you. I miss you. I know, it’s odd to hear that someone you’ve never met misses you, but I do. You’re a constant in my life. You’ve influenced so many of my choices. I believe I’m a better person because of you. And that’s a gift from you to me. A gift I want to thank you for.

I felt tears fill my eyes. She’d missed me.

My life had been full of love and family, and though I’d always known I was adopted, and occasionally my birth parents crossed my mind, I didn’t think of her often.

I wiped at my eyes and tried so sniff back more tears.

Someone asked, “Are you all right?”

I turned around and saw a woman who was about my age looking at me with concern. She had dark hair and a pale complexion. In another time, they might have said she had porcelain skin.

I found myself nodding that I was okay to her, but we both knew it for the lie it was. She was kind enough not to call me on the fib, though. She simply said, “Okay, then.” She started to sink back in her seat.

I could have turned around and gone back to my brooding, but instead I found myself asking, “How do you miss someone you hardly know?”