Pieces of the Heart (21 page)

She grabbed a handful of bandages that had stayed on the edge of the counter and began peeling the wrappers.

He made his voice gentle. “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you. Nobody makes you face what’s hurting you.”

Caroline began sticking three large Band-Aids on his forearm, a few more than necessary in his opinion, but certainly enough to pull off most of the hair on his arm.

“Nothing’s wrong with me. Before I was forced to come here, I was perfectly fine.”

“Fine—but not happy, I would suspect, or you would have used that word.”

She stared at him, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “Stop trying to analyze me. I’ve had plenty of that over the years, and none of it helped. I learned to help myself and have earned the quiet, uneventful, and—yes—boring life that I have. It’s the only peace I’ve found after thirteen years, and I don’t need you digging up old stuff that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Caroline ran out of the bathroom, and he followed, watching her hesitate at her own bedroom door as if that were where she really wanted to be. Instead she turned back toward the great room, where Jewel and the two older women waited. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, then walked in.

He heard the smile in her voice. “Okay, I’m here. I’m going to sit here and sort through these pictures and allow you to pick my brain. But don’t ask me to sew anything. That’s just for beginners and old ladies. I’m merely the consultant on this project.”

Drew watched as she took a seat near the craft table, understanding a little more about what it had cost her to enter that room, and feeling a flicker of admiration for that false bravado that lurked inside of her, occasionally forced to the surface when she was at her most vulnerable.

He said his good-byes, then left the women to their quilt and their memories.

C
AROLINE SAT AT THE FOLDING TABLE AND STARED AT THE BOXES of photographs in front of her. She schooled herself to think like an accountant, in straight black-and-white columns. She would organize the pictures by subject and date and try not to notice the familiar faces that stared at her from the past.

She had just picked up the oldest packet—the ones of Shelby’s infancy and early childhood—when Jewel called out in a strident voice from the craft table, “Caroline! We need your help!”

“Oh, come on. You haven’t even had a chance to get started. How could you possibly need my help already?”

All three faces turned toward her, managing to look as lost and pathetic as she thought possible.

“All right.” She stood and walked toward them, steeling herself to look over their shoulders at the quilt. “What seems to be the problem?”

Rainy flattened her hands against the quilt, her gold wedding band loose on her shriveled finger. “I started the first row without any real plan, which might have been a big mistake. You’ve always been a master at mixing colors and patterns so that it looks like it all belongs. I don’t think we need to redo the first row, but I’d like your help in planning the next one.”

Jewel popped off the bench as if she had been eagerly waiting a chance to escape. “I’m going to find something good on the stereo. I’ll be right back.”

Caroline walked slowly around the table, examining the piles of scraps and the bucket of fabrics Rainy had brought with her. She reached inside and pulled out a multicolored remnant containing every shade of blue. The colors were wrapped around one another like ribbons, each part separate but melding together at the edges to become whole. Blue had been Shelby’s favorite color.

She held it up to Rainy. “You’ll need to get more of this. I think it would be perfect for the border, to tie it all in together.”

“Actually Margaret picked that out. She said it reminded her of Shelby and should be used in the quilt.”

Caroline looked at her mother with surprise. Her mother had known Shelby all her life, but she never would have suspected that Margaret could look at that same piece of fabric and see what she saw. “Good choice, Mom. Can you get more?”

Her mother nodded, looking almost shy at the compliment. “They had a whole roll of it at the fabric store. Shouldn’t be any problem.”

“Great.” Caroline continued her inspection, pulling out different scraps and fabrics and piecing them together, then taking them apart. She felt her heart slow to a steady rhythm, and her breathing quickened as she recognized the old excitement of creating something new and beautiful out of old scraps and memories. The pain was there, too, but it was pushed aside by the thoughts of Shelby and how much she would love it, and by the new purpose Caroline felt. It was almost as if she’d gone too long without water and it was finally beginning to rain.

“I think we should keep going with the idea you started with—soft pastels and baby hues and then each row growing more and more bright and vibrant.”

Rainy took a hold of Caroline’s hand and squeezed it. “Perfect. That’s exactly how I remember her.”

The loud bass of an Avril Lavigne song pounded from the stereo as Jewel joined them again and picked up a scrap of magenta fabric. “Wow—speaking of bright! You practically need sunglasses to look at this one.” She waved it in front of Caroline’s face. “Where will this one go? The year she married my dad?”

The old pain returned, extinguishing the excitement the way a strong breath would blow out a candle. She took the pink fabric from Jewel. “No, I think we’ll use the magenta for when you were born.”

Jewel wrinkled her brow. “Why not when she got married—isn’t that more important on the quilt because it came first?”

Caroline took the cloth and focused on breathing the pain away. “Getting married was a high point in her year for her, I’m sure. But it was also a difficult year, too. She lost a good friend.”

Jewel nodded slowly. “But wouldn’t it be more realistic if on that row we showed a couple of really bright squares alongside some pale ones? My mom wasn’t one of those people who would let sadness take over everything.”

Once again, Jewel’s ability to get to the heart of something without really appearing to try caught Caroline unaware. As she had felt with Jewel’s father earlier, she wasn’t sure if she should hug her or start defending her own actions. She caught her mother’s gaze, and before she could read the “I told you so” look she was sure would appear, she set the fabric square back on the table and stepped away.

“That’s a great idea—why don’t we go with that one? But I think you all have enough to get started right now, so I guess I can leave. I’ll be in my room if you need anything else.”

She’d made it across the room before Jewel called her back. “One more thing—I forgot to tell you earlier. The athletic club at my school is having a booth at the Harvest Moon festival at the end of next month. We’re using the money to buy new uniforms for some of the teams—including Windbreakers for the swim team.” She raised her eyebrows as if to indicate to Caroline that was the main reason she was mentioning it. “We’re looking for more vendors—those are the people who sell things—and I remember Grandma Rainy saying that you used to make these cute quilted place mats when you were in high school and that they always seemed to sell like cheap nail polish.”

She was about to give her automatic response of no, when Shelby’s words floated through her mind.
Find the one thing that scares you the most and do it.
She looked at the eager face of the young girl and remembered how hard she swam each morning and how she still looked at the water with revulsion but dove in anyway. “Yeah, I can make a few place mats. Just tell me how many you want and what else I’ll need to do.”

Feeling as if she’d done her good deed for the day, Caroline turned toward her room, but her mother called her back. With a sinking feeling, she faced the room again.

“Remember how they used to auction off one of your memory quilts? The winner would get to pick out the colors and give you all her memorabilia and you’d make one for them. It was always
the
highest moneymaker for your swim team, remember?”

She groaned inwardly. Having a conversation with her mother felt a lot like being tied to a sinking boat. She didn’t want to be where she was, but she didn’t have any choice about it, either. “Yes, Mom. I remember.”

“Wouldn’t it be great for you to do it again? And since you have so much time now, you could auction off two quilts. Think of all the money you’d bring in for the athletic association!”

Rainy stood, placing her hand on Margaret’s arm. “Now, Margaret—give the girl a chance to breathe. She’s supposed to be here to rest, not spend all of her time and energy making memory quilts for strangers.”

Caroline sent a look of gratitude to Rainy. But when she saw the disappointment on her mother’s face, she had to add, “I’ll think about it,” before saying good night to everyone again and turning toward her bedroom.

Jewel’s voice followed her down the hallway. “Besides—she’s going to help with Mama’s quilt, and that’s going to take a lot of time. And why would she want to help the swim team out, anyway? I’m not allowed to be on the team, and she won’t even think about getting in the water anymore.”

She almost turned back and marched into the room to defend herself. But what Jewel had said was true and there wasn’t anything she could say that would change a thing.

As an afterthought, she turned toward the garage instead of her room, taking her purse off a hook in the back hallway as she passed through it. Staring at Shelby’s quilt, she had realized what needed to be added to the border. But she wanted to see the loon again to study the shape of the bill and the curve of the head to make sure she got it right. Besides, she’d been thinking of the injured bird all day and how she hadn’t heard its call the night before. The lake at night was as lonesome as the stone Ophelia without the loon to cry out to the still water. She wondered if the loon missed the water as much as the water missed the loon.