Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (19 page)

“I did. And I think she had more color in her cheeks.”

“Dad said she’s still gets tired easily and still can get sick easy, but she’s better. If her numbers keep rising, she can come home soon. She’ll need to stick to our house and not go out. And I’ll have to still be careful around her ’cause I’m a kid and get germs from school, but she’d be home.”

“Speaking of home, I need to head back to mine. Maybe next week. Dad’s starting to pack up the house, and I promised to help, and I have to get back to a regular work schedule.”

Fiona gave me a look that was so much older than her years. “It’s okay, Ban. You’ll come back and visit, and when Mom’s better, I’m going to come stay with you. Yeah, I know, you’re wondering how you got so lucky. I figure we have a lot of sister stuff still to do. And when you’re gone, I’ll probably text you so much you’ll get sick of me.”

I laughed. “Never happen.”

“Be careful, I might think that’s a challenge.”

I laughed and I listened to her chatter along happily as she did her homework and I made her dinner. Afterward, I took her to the hospital to see Piper. I didn’t gown up this time but waved at Piper through the window.

An hour later, I got a text.

This is the first of a multitude of texts I’ll be sending you. Spell-check tried to make multitude multiply the first time ’cause I spelled it wrong. Spell-check is my nemesis.

Mine, too.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Take that, spell-check.

I laughed.

For the next three hours, my phone would beep as Fiona sent other attempts at annoying spell-check.

Finally, right before ten she texted,
Tired of me yet?

Never
, I reassured her.

Indupitably. Spell-check doesn’t know how to spell it.

Indubitably, I sent back.

See, sisters are more handy than spell-check. Night.

Night.

It seemed lonely after Fiona’s bedtime. I’d miss seeing her every day after I went home. I’d miss Logan, too. And as I had the thought, he walked in the door.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi, yourself,” he said. “I checked on Ms. Pip before I came home, and she’s still doing great.”

“Good,” I said.

“Siobhan, why are you looking at me like that?” he asked as he stripped off his scrub shirt.

“Like what?” I asked, wishing he’d strip off more.

“Like that.” His eyes narrowed and he nodded, as if that were enough to explain.

I laughed. “I was looking at you like that because I was just thinking about what a good day it was and how happy I was when you walked in. And then I thought how very much I want to take you up to bed.”

“I need to shower,” he said.

“How about I help you with that?”

We walked up the stairs, and I realized how much I’d miss this when I went home. Not
this
.
Him
. How much I’d miss Logan.

But I’d let him go because I cared about him.

Caring about someone means putting their needs in front of yours. And he needed to leave.

But he’d be taking a bit of my heart with him when he went.

I knew that because I’d be leaving it here with him when I went home.

Words have power. They can cut, but they can also heal. They can hurt, but they can also uplift.

But maybe even more than words themselves, names have power.
If a rock weren’t called a rock, would it be as strong? If a cloud weren’t a cloud, what would it be? If I weren’t my mother’s daughter, would I still be me?

—The Naming of Things
, by Pip

Piper came home from the hospital. Her recovery wasn’t over, but she was on the road. All her lab reports were positive. There was no sign of the cancer, and there were signs that her immune system was improving. She had to stay close to home, limit visitors, and take time to recover, but it looked as if she would recover.

I’d finished reading her journal. I’d gone through the trunk. I wore my locket daily and wore the charm bracelet on occasion.

I was wearing it and carrying the journal as I walked through the hole in the fence and let myself in the back door into the kitchen. I no longer knocked. Piper was sitting at the counter. She smiled as I walked in.

“I came to say good-bye. Fiona came over before school, so I already told her.” That had been messy. She’d hugged me and cried. I’d promised to come back this month, and she’d asked if she could text me. I’d said anytime. I’d already had three texts. I would not be losing touch with my little sister.

Piper nodded. “She got up early so she could. She’s going to miss you. We’re all going to miss you.” She didn’t say the words as a recrimination; she simply said them as a statement of fact.

I knew what she meant. “Me too. I know it’s only been a few months, but . . .”

Piper smiled, nodding. “It’s the same for me.”

“And I’ll be back to visit soon,” I promised. “Dad and Margo are packing up the house, and I promised to help. Rumor has it I still have some of my childhood toys and stuff in the attic and—”

“You don’t have to apologize or make excuses, Siobhan. You’re an adult. You have your own life. I’m just so thankful that now I’ll get to be a part of it, even in just a little way.”

“There’s no
little
about it. You are a part of my life. So are Ned and Fiona. You’re part of me. I felt guilty at how quickly I loved you and felt a part of you, but as I finished the journal and read Ned’s letter talking about why it took him so long to figure out he loved you . . .”

I opened the journal that I’d brought for just this reason.

Why didn’t I recognize that last part at first? It seems that I should have known it a lot sooner.

Josiah said it was as obvious to him as the nose on his face.

I’ve thought a lot about that and realized that I didn’t realize it sooner because she was a part of me. Pip was a part of me before I’d even met her. So there was no shock of recognition, no moment when I thought, there she is. I’ve found her.

She’d always been a part of me, and when I finally realized that, I realized what that meant. She never filled a void in my life because she’d always occupied that space. Sort of like a nose.

You have one. You see it every day in the mirror, but you’ve probably never really stopped and looked and thought, that is my nose. You never ask where you would be without it because it’s always been with you, and you know that it always will be with you. You’re used to seeing yourself with it. It’s simply part of your reflection.

I’m pretty sure that’s where the expression originated. And my loving Pip was as obvious as the nose on my face, it was harder to see because it was like a nose.

I closed the journal.

“Ned said it all. You guys are a part of me, like my nose. It didn’t take me as long as Ned to figure it out is all,” I said with a laugh. “I plan to remind him of that fact often. So I’ll come visit, and maybe when you’re up to it, you can come to see me. And we’ll Skype and text and talk . . .”

I threw my arms around Piper. There was no guilt in loving her. My dad was right. My heart had adapted to its new configuration. There was no guilt. No turmoil. No angst.

There was only love.

Just to be sure Piper understood that, I said, “I love you.”

She hugged me back and said, “I love you, too. I have always loved you. You’ve always been a part of me—”

“Like the nose on your face,” I finished, quoting Ned. “He said he wasn’t the family writer, but I think he wrote exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Better not tell him that. Next thing you know he’ll try to help me with my books. He’s tried to give me ideas in the past—they weren’t good.”

I laughed and hugged her again for good measure. She still felt thin, too thin. But I saw beneath her body to the indomitable spirit it held.

Piper said, “I’m thinking about a new story. It’s been a year since I’ve even entertained the idea of a book. I said it was because I was too sick to write, but it was more than that. I didn’t want to squander what time I had left on fictional characters. I wanted to concentrate on the real people in my life. Maybe the fact I’m thinking about a new book means I’m feeling well enough to believe I’ve got enough time for fictional characters
and
the real people in my life. Soon I’ll be going back to Amanda’s Pantry. I feel like I have a future.”

She hesitated. “When you came back, you brought back a piece of my heart that’s been missing all these years. You and your father have given me the gift of stories from your childhood. And now, you’ve given me more time with the people I love, and you’ve given me back my writing. Thank you.”

I felt as if I was going to cry and didn’t want to leave Piper with tears, so I said, “I better go. Logan’ll be home soon, and I can tell him good-bye as well.”

“Will you text me when you get home so I don’t worry?”

I might have laughed, but I knew Piper had spent a lifetime worrying about me. Giving that up might be hard. “Definitely. And I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded.

I walked back through the now autumn-brittle garden. I swear that it smelled like snow. We’d had some frosts but not snow yet, though I knew it was coming. November hit the lakeshore suddenly and frequently with a vengeance.

I walked to the bench at the back of the garden. It was Piper’s favorite thinking spot, and over the last few months it had become mine as well.

The milkweed was now nothing more than wooden stalks. They rustled in the breeze, a lighter sound than the branches. I closed my eyes and simply listened. Fiona’s birds were at the feeder. I could hear them chirping back and forth.

I wondered how many would winter here and how many, like me, were moving on.

I opened my eyes and saw two blue jays were at the feeder. A group of jays is called a band. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever told Fiona that one.

I pulled out my phone and texted her.
A group of blue jays is called a band. Just thought of it, which made me think of you
.

She didn’t answer, which was good, since she should be in class about now and shouldn’t have her phone on. The text would be waiting for her.

I looked toward the house.

When I’d arrived, I hadn’t been able to see it from here, but now that all the plants had died off and the trees had lost all their leaves, it was visible.

Piper was sitting in the kitchen. Later, she’d probably move to the chair near the front window. She wasn’t feeling well enough to write yet, but she was thinking about it.

I’d read all her books now. All the stories I’d missed. I was anxious to add to my collection.

I got up and headed back to the house. I’d packed my bags. I’d washed the sheets and remade the bed. There was nothing left to do but say good-bye to Logan.

I heard the front door open as I came in the back. I went out to the front. He was looking at my suitcases as he stood there in his stained scrubs. I didn’t ask with what. I didn’t want to know.

“I was in the ER last night,” he said, by way of explanation. “It was a rough shift.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re leaving then?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes. I just waited to say good-bye and to thank you for letting me stay here.”

“It’s Ned’s house,” he said, trying to deflect my gratitude.

But we both knew that I wasn’t simply thanking him for sharing the roof over our heads but for so much more. “Thank you for being my . . .”

I didn’t know what to call our relationship, so I said, “Thanks for being here for me. I’m not sure how I’d have gotten through it without you.”

I thought about all the mornings I’d woken up in his arms. The way he’d nursed me after the surgery.

His smiley face underwear.

He smiled. “Anytime.”

“So, I’ll see you when I visit, I’m sure.”

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” he said. “Well, as long as I’m here.”

“Thanks.” I looked at his stained scrubs and added, “I’d hug you but . . .”

The stains were a good excuse not to hug him. On the heels of that thought I asked myself, why was I hesitant to hug him? We’d become friends and lovers. That’s what I was to him, but he was more than that to me. That’s why I didn’t hug him.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t hug me, either,” he said with a happy smile, though beneath the expression I thought I saw something else. Something that didn’t look happy at all. “It was a messy night at work.”

I thought leaving Piper would be hard, but I felt as if we’d said everything we needed to say. And I knew she’d always be a part of my life. Logan wouldn’t be. Oh, I’d see him when I visited, until he finished school next spring and left. Then who knew if our paths would ever cross again.

I drank in one last sight of him, and then I picked up my bag. “Well, good-bye.”

“Drive safe,” he said.

I nodded and walked out the door, trying to ignore the thought that our good-bye was wrong. I should have done something else, but I wasn’t sure what.

The drive back to Ohio was uneventful. The skiy looked ominous, but all the weatherman’s dire threats of snow didn’t come to anything.

I pulled into my driveway and waited for that feeling of coming home. But it never came.

I pulled my bigger suitcase with me up onto the porch and let myself into the house. No dog came running to greet me. No nine-year-old redhead screamed my name. No Piper. No Ned.

No Logan.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, Fiona texted.
Cool. A group of finches is a charm.

A second later another text beeped.

I miss you.

I miss you, too
, I texted back.

I stuffed the phone in my back pocket and simply stood in the foyer for a moment. My house felt very big and lonely.

Then I heard a noise.

“Who’s there?” I called and almost immediately wished I hadn’t. It was dumb to announce your presence to robbers. I started to open the front door so I could step out and call the cops, when Carey called out, “Ban, is that you?”