Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (9 page)

“Hey, Fiona, would you go ask your dad to come down?” I called.

Fiona looked at me, then Piper, and then bolted from the room without saying a word.

“I’m so sorry,” Piper said. “You’re finally here. All I want to do is sit somewhere quiet and pepper you with questions. I want to know about your childhood, what you do now. I want to know about your best friend. Instead—”

“We’ll have time, Piper,” I promised her and maybe myself. “I have questions, too.”

“I tried to answer most of them in the journal. I wanted to be sure that whenever you came to find me there was something for you. I’m glad I wrote it. If something should happen to me—”

“Don’t talk like that.” I’d just met Piper, but already the thought of a world without her in it hurt.

She patted my hand, trying to give me comfort. “Honey, everyone dies someday. I want you to know that I never forgot you. I might have given you to your parents, but I built a life around you. You were always loved.”

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, too. But I didn’t know her well enough for that. I could tell her I wanted to love her and yet was afraid to love her.

“I—” I didn’t have time to say anything. Ned and Fiona rushed into the room. He took one look at Piper and simply picked up the phone and called the doctor.

“We’re going to meet him at the hospital,” he said when he’d hung up.

“I don’t want—”

I took Piper’s hand and squeezed it. “We’ll have time. Go see the doctor.”

Then an idea occurred to me. “Why don’t I take Fiona? I mean, I understand if you’d prefer she go with someone else. You hardly know me.”

“She’s your sister,” Piper said. In her expression I could see how formidable she must have been before she got sick. “Of course you can take her for the day.”

I wanted to argue against this basic trust she put in me. I knew I was trustworthy, but how could she?

“I checked you out, remember?” Ned said, answering my unasked question.

I nodded. “She mentioned wanting to see some birds on the peninsula. I thought we’d make a day of it.”

“Thank you. I wish I could be there,” Piper said. “I want—”

“We’ll have days,” I promised her again. “Many days. A lifetime of days,” I said, willing it to be true.

She nodded, accepting my words as truth, even though neither of us could know if they were.

“I love you,” she said, as Ned led her from the kitchen.

Susan walked down the beach, leaving the lifeguards and swimmers behind her. Slowly the sand gave way to rocky sand and finally to just rocks. And the sounds of radios and children screaming gave way to the sounds of the waves and an occasional seagull.

She turned the bend, sat on a giant boulder, and stared out at the lake, her feet resting on a huge piece of driftwood.

THE GREAT LAKE. She thought the words in all caps because from where she sat, Lake Erie felt as big as an ocean. And because it seemed so big, she felt dwarfed by it. Small. And suddenly so did all her problems.

They felt smaller and more manageable.

All she had to do was sit here, alone at the water’s edge, and watch the waves and the seagulls. She didn’t have to worry about—

“Hi, Susan.”

She turned, and he smiled at her as he sat down next to her. So much for not worrying.

—Susan’s Summer
, by Pip

We saw Ned and Piper out to the car, and then Fiona and I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Her optimism seemed to deflate as her mother left.

“It’s happened before. Lots of times,” she said. “She gets sick so easy. But she always gets better.”

I could almost hear her think
until one day when she won’t
. I could almost hear it because I felt the same way.

I went next door and Logan was up. “I wondered where you went to,” he said with a smile that slipped as he studied me. “What happened?”

“Piper’s sick. Ned’s taking her to the hospital to meet the doctor, so I’m taking Fiona to the peninsula for the day. Want to come?”

I glossed over Piper being sick because I didn’t want Logan to worry. He hadn’t seen her, but I had. And I was worried enough for the both of us.

He gave me a look. An intense sort of look.

It was as if he could see what I was thinking. It was as if he could see the whirling emotions that I couldn’t seem to slow or even begin to sort out. But he looked as if he could. So he didn’t press and ask me more about Piper. He simply said, “My shift doesn’t start until seven tonight, so sure, if you don’t mind me intruding.”

“You wouldn’t be. Fiona seems happy to get to know me, but still, I’m a stranger. I think she’ll be more comfortable having someone familiar along.”

Logan snorted. “Fiona has never met a stranger, and even if she had, you wouldn’t be one. You’ve been part of her life for as long as she can remember. Not just the birthday parties. I babysat for her sometimes, and she says her prayers every night. You’re always in them. It sounds like a simple thing but it’s not. Every night, she thought about you and hoped you were happy. That’s pretty powerful. So, no, you’re not a stranger to Fiona. But, yes, I’d love to tag along. Let me go get changed.” He left and went back up the stairs.

I started to go as well, but the chest that was still under the window caught my eye. I walked over and ran my hand over the top, tracing the faded lettering T. P. E.

I thought about opening it but didn’t. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I was curious about what Piper had put in it. I’d read the excerpt of the journal that Ned had given me. What other stories had she told me in it?

I turned away from the chest and hurried upstairs to get ready. I didn’t bother to put a bathing suit on. It was too late in the season for me to want to swim. But I grabbed a towel and wore some capris I could easily cuff.

Logan came down in shorts, an Mercyhurst University T-shirt, and a small sports bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Want me to drive?” he asked. “I know the way.”

“Thanks. If you do, I won’t need my GPS then.” Fiona was out front in shorts and a T-shirt that read
Fi Fly Flo
and had a picture of a unicorn on it. I wondered if she’d chosen the shirt to feel closer to Piper. I didn’t ask, but I did tug at her braid. “Logan said he’d drive since he knows the way.”

“Great!”

Fiona was a mini-encyclopedia of knowledge. She spent the drive telling us that Presque Isle peninsula was once the home of the Eriez Nation. It was defeated by the Iroquois , but the name stuck to the lake and the city. The Eriez had a legend of the Sheltering Arm of the Great Spirit, who they believed sent them to the peninsula for the abundant wildlife, the clean water, and the cool summer breezes.

She said that there was a chance we’d see some migratory birds today. The peninsula was a frequent stop for many of them. “Maybe we’ll see some eagles or osprey,” she said in a tone that most kids would use about Christmas.

“She likes birds,” Logan said as he drove past a local amusement park. I could see a huge Ferris wheel, and then we passed under a section of rollercoaster track. “I remember coming to Waldameer when I was a girl,” I said. “But I don’t remember the rollercoaster coming out over the road.”

“It used to, but then they tore it down years ago,” Logan said. “The park just put it back a few years ago. I haven’t ridden in it yet. Too bad the park’s closed for the season or we’d stop.”

“We’ll go in the spring,” Fiona said. “Logan’ll be here because of school, and you’re gonna come visit a lot, right?”

“Yes,” I assured her. “It’s not too bad a drive. I’ll come visit so much you’ll get sick of me.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I waited my whole life for you. I won’t get sick of you.”

Her words reminded me of what Logan had said. “You’re my sister, Fiona. Even when I go home, you can always call me, and we can Skype.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” I assured her.

That seemed to satisfy her. She went back to her running history of the park. She had the same sense of wonder and excitement of a tour guide.

She made us drive out to the end of the peninsula and loop around to Beach 11. “It’s shallow like forever here,” she explained.

She ran out on to the beach, threw her bag down, stripped off her shoes, and raced down to the water. She was up to her knees before Logan and I had made it to her bag.

“Come on in,” she called.

“I’ll come stick a toe in,” I called back. “But I don’t think I’m doing much more than that.”

“Me, too,” Logan echoed.

We stood in ankle-deep water and watched Fiona as she cavorted in the shallows.

“She seems to be doing okay,” I marveled. “I can’t help worrying about Piper.”

“Fi’s grown up with Ms. Pip’s illness. She wasn’t even in school when it all started. This is normal for her.”

“It’s not fair,” I whispered.

“I’ve spent the last few years working at clinics all over the world. I’ve seen so much . . . ,” he paused and his voice was shaky as he continued. “There’s so much need, Siobhan. I could work the rest of my life and never make a dent in the need that’s out there. I said as much to Ms. Pip one day. I felt like I was tossing tiny pebbles into the ocean during a storm. The water’s already churning so much the pebble doesn’t make even the tiniest of a ripple. You know what she said?”

“What?”

“No one person can ever fix all the world’s hurts. All we can do is our best to change our corner of it. She said that’s what she does with Amanda’s Pantry and even with her books.” His voice changed, and he quoted her.

I mean, I realize my little stories won’t end world hunger, but maybe for a few minutes, someone who’s hurting is comforted. Maybe someone who’s sad smiles or even laughs. And even if a sad part in my book makes a reader cry, maybe that’s cathartic. Maybe they don’t feel quite as alone. And maybe that’s enough.

“I never thought about things like that,” I said. I remembered reading Piper’s books when I was growing up. I felt connected to her characters, like they knew me; like they understood what I was going through.

Logan laughed. “Yeah, making you think is something she’s good at. She asked me something about what if everyone tossed their own pebble into the sea in some way? Then she said she thought maybe life would be a whole lot sweeter. So, that’s what I do. Wherever I’m at, I just try to toss my pebble into the ocean. Life will never be fair, but we can all try to make our corner of it a bit better. You’re doing that today for Fiona.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I said. Fiona reached into the water and held up something I couldn’t make out.

“Beach glass,” Logan filled in for me. “And you are doing something. You’re here with her. Spending a day with her. She’s waited to meet you for so long, you being here is making things easier.”

“
Shove
, come in,” Fiona said.

“Ban,” I corrected. “If you’re going to shorten my name, Ban’s much better than Shove.”

She laughed as I reached down and cuffed my pants and waded farther into the water.

“Are you coming?” I called to Logan.

“Go ahead and bond with your sister. I’m going to catch a catnap.”

“Ban,” Fiona called, trying my nickname on for size. “Why that?”

“Think about how my name is spelled. A teacher pronounced it Ceo-ban. The
ban
part stuck.”

“I like it,” she said. “Ban. Okay. Fi and Ban. Mom can write a book for us when she’s better. She’ll . . .”

She went on, deciding that Ban, being Irish, was Fi’s best friend. And she wove book-worthy adventures for them as we walked down the beach. “Watch for beach glass,” she instructed.

Logan, good to his word, had spread out a towel and lain down on it. He seemed to be dead to the world. “He barely woke up and he’s napping,” I said to Fiona.

“When he works nights, he takes a morning then an afternoon nap. He works per diem at the hospital whenever he’s in town.”

“Is he here often?” I asked, glancing back at his inert form on the empty beach. It was late in the season for swimmers. I liked having this little corner of the lake to ourselves.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess he’s home a few times a year. Sometimes he stays with his mom, sometimes next door. He’s been all over the world, you know. He sends me postcards in the real old fashioned mail. But he e-mails and Skypes, too. He’s been everywhere. I’ve got a map on the computer that we mark off every time he goes somewhere new. He was in South America once and worked at a place that helps kids with cleft palates. Have you ever seen them? It’s easier to fix ’em when they’re babies, but sometimes they’re as old as me and still got them. And then—”

The more Fiona told me, the more I realized that Logan hadn’t just thrown a pebble in the ocean of human suffering. He’d already thrown a big handful of rocks.

Fiona reached into the water and came up with something. She opened her hand and showed me a piece of green beach glass and then shoved it in her pocket. “When I get older, I’m going to be a photojournalist and travel to all those places and take pictures. I always make Logan send me some. Seeing the people he helps makes it more real, you know?”

I nodded. “Yes, I think I understand.”

Before Ned had knocked on my door, I’d known in an academic sense that I had a biological mother somewhere. I knew that she’d given me to my parents to raise and in so doing had given me a wonderful gift.

But now that I’d met her, as well as Ned and Fiona, Piper wasn’t just
something
I knew. She was real. Her pain was real. And I’d do whatever I could to help her.

“You can come over, and I’ll show you the pictures if you like,” Fiona was saying.

“I’d like that.”

Fiona gave me a look and said, “You know, you should be his girlfriend. If you were, then he’d be my brother, and he’s always been like one so that would be cool.”

I choked on absolutely nothing but air. “Well, Logan and I just met, so I don’t think we’re quite ready to be more than friends.” I looked back at him and said, “But sometimes a friend is better than a boyfriend.”