Pieces of the Heart (18 page)

Mrs. Collier smiled innocently. “Well, I know you’re not interested in helping us with the quilt, but I thought you might want to go through these old pictures and pull out ones with Shelby in them that might silk-screen well onto a quilting square.”

Jewel smiled to herself. Mrs. Collier might look like a sweet old lady who used linen napkins and knew where to hang a picture, but she could probably run a company, solve the world’s problems, and hire a hit man all at the same time. She was a lot like Grandma Rainy. Maybe that was why they were such good friends.

Mrs. Collier got up from the chair. “You can sit here. I’ll go get the iced tea while Jewel and Rainy start discussing color schemes for the quilt. You can listen with half an ear and give them advice while you’re looking through those pictures.”

Without waiting for Caroline’s response, Mrs. Collier turned toward the kitchen, and Jewel didn’t miss the triumphant smile on her face. It was almost as good as the look Caroline wore—of a person who’d just been hit by an unexpected wave. Her shoulders slumped in a defeated gesture as if she were realizing that it was probably as useless to argue with her mother as it was to fight the incoming tide. Jewel stared at Mrs. Collier’s retreating back and once again wondered how such a thin old woman could be so relentlessly strong.

C
AROLINE WAS UP EARLY, EAGER TO BE OUT OF THE HOUSE BEFORE her mother awoke and fussed over her or, worse, decided to come with her. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to help her navigate a long conversation with her mom over the jagged rocks of the past.

She stood on the back porch and stretched, feeling the resistance of muscles that hadn’t been used to capacity in years. Sometime in the middle of the night the idea had come to her. Maybe it had come from staring at Shelby’s empty quilt the day before. There were boxes and boxes of potential scraps and mementos from a short life well lived. It would be a challenge to decide what would go on it and what wouldn’t fit in the confines of a quilt. She imagined it would be a lot like being asked to evacuate your home and be allowed to take only one small bag.

And then she thought of the possibility of her own quilt. She had never started one for herself, and in her mind’s eye it was yard after yard of empty fabric. When she tried to think of what would go on it she realized there might be one box of mementos, and all of them would be from her first eighteen years of life. The rest would be empty, like Shelby’s, but not because she hadn’t been there to live them.

The thought had saddened and frightened her and had pulled her to the back porch to wait out the rest of the night. It was then that the idea had come to her that she needed to do
something
. Something that would breathe life back into her lungs. Something that would be worthy of filling the empty squares on her imaginary quilt.

Caroline touched her toes, the pain from her tight hamstrings unfamiliar and excruciating. It was hard to remember when she’d been in top swimmer’s form, with all of her muscles supple and strong. That had been a very long time ago, and she wasn’t even sure if that would be her goal. Right now all she wanted to do was take a walk around the lake to see if she could do it. If she got short of breath she would sit down, or call out to one of the nearby houses. However she did it, she just needed to
do
it. And if she hurried, she’d be back in plenty of time for Jewel’s swimming lesson.

She started on the narrow dirt path that circled the lake and bisected the backyards and docks of the houses. Her arms pumped steadily at her sides, but she kept a moderate pace, paying attention to her heart rate. She slowed down if her heart raced too wildly and stopped twice to sit on a dock chair and rest. But her legs tingled and her breath deepened as she gulped in the lake breeze that stirred the water. It felt good to move again.

She was nearly three-quarters of the way around when a movement from a tall stand of grass by the water’s edge caught her attention. Thinking it might be a nesting bird, she cautiously approached, making sure she didn’t make any noise. Peering over the tall grass, she found herself staring down into the frightened red eyes of an injured loon.

She’d seen the loon only from a distance before, outlined against the night sky, and it startled her to realize just how big it was. It jerked its gray-brown-capped head as if to clear its vision and then stared at her again with its red eyes set in a black-and-white face. Only one of its legs was visible, set way back on its body as designed by Mother Nature for superior swimming ability, but it seemed to lie on the ground at an odd angle. It was hurt, and for a moment she felt a prickling of tears in her own eyes. She needed to help it, but had no idea how.

Moving closer, she noticed that one wing appeared to be bent in the wrong direction. It gave her another panicked look and she stopped, doing the only thing she could think of to reassure it: She started singing. Unfortunately the first song that came to mind was a jingle from a fast-food commercial. She wasn’t quite sure who was more startled by the sound—her or the bird.

“If you keep singing like that, you might kill it.”

She hadn’t heard Drew approach. He wore running shorts and a T-shirt, and his face and body were soaked in sweat. Leaning forward, he had his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.

“I’m trying to soothe it. Let me know if you have any better ideas.” She looked back at the loon and felt an embarrassing rush of tears. What was it about this bird that was affecting her so? “He’s really hurt, and he’ll die if I don’t do something.”

Drew’s voice was gentle when he spoke again. “You’re right. We can’t just leave him here.” He looked around the grass and then across the lake to where the distant hum of an engine sounded. “Damned waverunners. That’s probably what happened to our little friend here.” He lifted his shirt, showing off an admirable torso, and wiped his face with the hem. “Why don’t I run back home? I’ve got a box big enough to put him in and some heavy work gloves in case he decides to bite. Once we get him in the box, we can take him to get help. Any idea where the nearest vet is?”

“No—but Rainy’s probably as good as any vet. She’s been patching up pets ever since I’ve known her.”

Drew nodded. “All right. Stay here and I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He took a step and then said, “Just don’t sing to him, okay? He’s suffered enough.”

She looked for something substantial to throw at him but had to settle for grabbing a handful of grass and dirt and throwing it in his direction. “Hurry up,” she said, hiding her smile until she was sure he wasn’t looking.

They found Rainy behind a counter in the store, doing an inventory of hand-knitted sweaters. Drew felt a moment of guilt. He’d said he would do the inventory, but he kept on finding excuses to avoid the store. Maybe it was because Rainy was more than happy to stay where she was until she could finalize the plans for her trip. Or maybe it was because he had no idea what he would do if he found out that he’d made a mistake.

Caroline rushed over to Rainy. “We found a loon. It looks like it might have a damaged leg and a broken wing.”

Drew set the box on the floor, aware that no sound came from the box. He had padded it well with lake grass, but the bird had stopped struggling after it had been put inside. Drew wondered if it was preparing for a fight or had just given up. He was almost afraid to glance inside. If the loon were dead, he didn’t think he could stand the look on Caroline’s face. She had sat in the back of the truck with her arm around the box the whole way to Rainy’s store, and he had to keep stealing looks in the rearview mirror to double-check that this was the same Caroline Collier he knew.

“Let me take a look.” Rainy knelt by the box and carefully opened the top. The bird, with its long flat beak and red eyes, stared up at Rainy, then made a strange cawing sound, as if it had seen something to recognize in Rainy. She ignored the offered gloves Drew held out to her and instead reached inside to gently stroke the back on the short, black-and-white neck. She cooed and spoke gibberish to the loon, seeming to calm it a lot more than Caroline’s singing had.

“What happened to you, sweetie?” Rainy asked as she gingerly stroked the wounded leg, feeling for a broken bone. “Looks like something got you good.” Her hands reached the wing, and the bird reacted by trying to tuck both wings against its side and stand upright on its one good foot.

Caroline reached into the box, settling her hand gently on the back of the loon. “No, no—don’t do that.”

“What’s he trying to do?” Drew asked.

Without looking at anybody in particular, Caroline explained, “When a loon is disturbed, he does this kind of penguin dance to scare away his enemies. It takes a lot of energy, and sometimes, if the danger doesn’t go away, the loon will keep dancing until he dies from exhaustion.”

Drew peered inside the box. “Is that why they call loons crazy?”

Rainy indicated a blanket thrown over a display chest and he went to retrieve it.

“Actually, that’s a myth,” Caroline said. “The Chippewa called him ‘the most handsome of birds,’ and said the loon had magical powers.” She sat back on her heels and watched as Rainy lifted the bird from the box and settled it on her blanket-covered lap. “They also said that—” She cut off her words abruptly, making clear it wasn’t something she wanted to share. Rainy gave her an encouraging look, but Caroline looked away and remained silent.

Rainy sat with the bird on her lap and kept stroking the head, the loon subdued and relaxed under her hands.

Caroline sat nearby, watching the bird closely, and began speaking to no one in particular. “Don’t really know why we have loons on Lake Ophelia—they’re not supposed to be here. They breed and live in Canada and some of the northern states, then migrate down here to the southern coast for the winter. Guess a family made a pit stop here and decided to stay and come back every year.”

Rainy eased her legs out in front of her to better see the bird’s injuries. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of work to do before you fly to the coast for the winter, hmmm?”

The loon nodded as if agreeing, then settled back down.

“I think I’ll stay here today with the loon. Mom wanted me to help her organize something in the quilting room, but I think that can wait,” Caroline said.

“Don’t be silly,” Rainy said. “I’ll be fine. There’s not much I don’t know about fixing broken animals.”

Caroline looked at the bird as if unsure. “I don’t mind staying. . . .”

“I’ll be fine—really. Nothing to worry about.” She smiled down at the bird nestled into her lap. “See? We’re old friends already.”

Standing, Caroline brushed dust off her knees. “All right then. But if my mother calls, please don’t tell her that I touched the bird. She’ll have the rabies shots ready before I get back.”

Drew frowned as he looked at the uncounted inventory. “Do you want me to stay and finish this? You’ll be busy with the bird.”

“I’ll be fine—really. I’d rather do it myself, anyway—harder to mess up. Plus, I don’t really expect a horde of customers, what with it being the off-season. So you two go on and do whatever it is you need, and when you get back I’ll still be here.”

They said their good-byes, then Caroline reluctantly followed him out to the truck.

They traveled silently for a few miles before she asked if she could turn on the radio.

“You’re not going to sing, are you?”

She couldn’t hold back her smile. “No. Promise.”

They rode the rest of the way listening to a country music station, and he watched from the corner of his eye as her fingers seemed to accompany the music on an invisible piano. She caught him looking at her and followed his gaze as if she had been unaware of her actions, then clasped both hands together in a ball on her lap.

“How do you know so much about loons?” he asked.

She looked down at her hands and clasped them tighter. “My brother, Jude. He loved them, so he checked out every book he could find in the library and learned just about everything about a loon it’s possible to know without actually being one.” She smiled at the memory, and her hands loosened their grip.