Pieces of the Heart (22 page)

When Drew pulled up in the parking lot of Rainy Days, he saw Margaret Collier’s Cadillac parked outside. Since he knew that the quilting bee was still happening at her house, he figured it had to be Caroline inside.

He looked for the key on his key ring and then remembered he hadn’t put it there yet. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He didn’t officially take charge of the store until November first, but Rainy had made it very clear that she already considered him to be the new owner. Testing the doorknob and finding it unlocked, he entered the store.

A soft humming came from the kitchen, and he walked through the darkened store toward it. The door was half-open and he stood for a moment looking in.

A circular pen made up of chicken wire and rushes took up most of the space in front of the bay window. The loon sat at the edge of the pen, one leg and one arm sporting bright white bandages, allowing itself to be stroked on the back by Caroline, who sat cross-legged on the other side of the chicken wire.

She was humming, but she had an expression on her face that made it clear her thoughts were far away from the kitchen in the back of Rainy’s store. A slight smile curved her lips, as if she were privy to a joke, and it made her eyes sparkle.

“Thinking happy thoughts of me driving out of town and back to South Carolina?”

The sparkle in her eyes left when she spotted him.

“No, of course not.” She bit her lip as if trying to keep from smiling. “I’m thinking of you flying out of town in a plane. That way you’d go faster.”

“That’s sweet of you. Thank you.” He came closer to the pen. “How’s our loon doing?”

“
Our
loon?”

“Yes,
our
loon. I don’t remember you getting your arm all scratched up to get him here. He’s as much mine as he is yours.”

She stopped petting the bird and let her hands fall to her lap. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And if I forgot to say it, thank you for helping me save him.”

Drew nodded and moved to sit next to her. They both stared into the pen at the broken bird as she spoke.

“Do you really want to know what I was thinking about when you came in?”

“As long as it won’t make me blush.”

She looked at him, startled, and her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was only joking.”

She began examining her hands in her lap as he’d seen her do before. It was almost as if she needed to be reminded that it was really her speaking. “I was thinking about the time Jude wanted to catch a loon in the middle of the night. He could always talk anybody into doing anything. He got me out of bed, then went and threw rocks at Shelby’s window until she came out, too. Then he got a huge butterfly net out of the shed and piled all three of us in a two-person canoe. We followed the cry of the loon until we got to its nest next to the shore. We sat really still for almost an hour, waiting for it to take off. Jude should have known better—since he knows so much about loons—because we were right in the middle of its path. See, a loon is a really graceful swimmer, but it’s the clumsiest thing on land and when it’s trying to get airborne. It almost needs a runway to paddle its legs and flap its wings before it can rise in the air.”

Drew rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t think I want to hear the rest of this.”

“Yeah, well, that’s pretty much what my mother said, too, when she heard us come inside at five in the morning soaking wet and the canoe missing.”

“You were lucky nobody got hurt.”

She rubbed her hands over her arms as if still feeling the chilly water of the lake. “Yes, we were. But even after all that, I would probably say it was still one of the best nights of my life.”

He studied her for a moment, the pale skin over the fine bones, and found himself wishing that he had known her then, when she had laughed freely and had once felt the excitement of sitting on a darkened lake waiting to catch a wild bird.

“Did he ever catch one?”

She shook her head. “No. He said it was a good thing. That there should always be something out of reach to wish for.”

“Like crying for the moon.”

She looked at him oddly. “No, not really. Having a real goal is worthwhile. Wanting something you’ll never have is a different thing entirely.”

Drew was silent for a moment. “ ‘Crying for the moon’ was Shelby’s favorite expression. She could never understand why so many people spent so much of their energy wishing for something they couldn’t have that they ignored what they did have.”

Caroline turned away toward the loon, her face still and lovely in the soft evening light. He watched her swallow before she spoke.

“He’s doing fine. He looks ridiculous with those bandages on him, but Rainy swears she knows what she’s doing. She’s always been one to put things back together.”

“Did she help you—after your brother died?”

He didn’t think she would answer at first. But it was as if the loon had somehow become a mediator, a conduit to translate their words while deleting anything the other might take offense to. Somehow the injured bird and the story she had told him had placed them on neutral ground—for now, anyway.

She nodded. “Rainy was there for me. She’s always been there for me.”

He felt his lawyerly instincts surface. He didn’t want to spoil the rare noncombative mood, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What about your mother? Did she help?”

He knew he’d made a mistake when he saw her straighten her back and lift her shoulders. “I couldn’t cry, and all she could do was tell me there was something wrong with me because I wasn’t crying. It was only because of Rainy’s intervention that my mother didn’t send me to a psychiatrist.”

“What about your dad—were they divorced then?”

Her voice had changed. It wasn’t the soft, dreamy voice she’d used to recount the story about Jude and the loon. This was the accountant’s voice, and it had as much emotion in it as if she were calling out the bottom line in a profit/loss statement. “No. We were all one big, happy family before Jude died. And then my mom made it worse by chasing my dad away, too. She wouldn’t even let me go live with him in California after the divorce.”

She stood and brushed off the seat of her jeans with sharp slaps. “I’ve got to go. I wish you would stop dredging up the past. It serves absolutely no purpose but to bring back bad memories.”

He resisted the urge to remind her that she was the one who’d started it. He’d enjoyed it too much to make her mad. “Not all of them were bad.”

She finally met his eyes. “I think you need to leave now.”

“It’s my store.”

“Not yet it’s not. And I was here first.”

He could see her concentrating on deep breathing again, so he backed down. Standing, he said, “Okay. I’ll go now. Don’t forget our shopping expedition in the morning.”

She kept her gaze focused on the loon. “Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out.”

He almost smiled. Instead he said, “By the way, did you know you’ve got a scrap of toilet paper in your hair?”

Her hands went up to her head.

“Just kidding. Figured you needed to lighten up before you stressed yourself out again.”

He had the good sense to quickly leave the kitchen in time to hear the solid sound of a shoe hitting the closed kitchen door.

J
EWEL CLOSED THE LID OF HER MOTHER’S TRUNK, CATCHING PART of the quilt in the latch. As she bent to lift the lid and clear the material, the door of the bedroom opened and her father stood there, his eyes widened in surprise. In fact, it was more than surprise. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said after a brief moment. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

She quickly faced him, her back to the trunk with the piece of quilt still hanging out of it. “Likewise.”

Slowly he stepped into the room. “For a moment I thought . . .” His words trailed away as if he were just realizing who he was speaking to.

“You thought I was Mama?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess I never really realized just how much you look like her until just a minute ago.” He laughed nervously and walked over to the windows, where the stack of unopened boxes still sat.

“What were you doing in here?”

She shrugged, trying to look casual. “Just hanging out. I’m still missing some of my books and was wondering if maybe they might be in one of these unopened boxes.”

She watched as his gaze strayed to the boxes with the still-intact packing tape stretched across the tops.

“Did you find anything?”

“What?” Her breath stuck in her throat.

“Your books. Did you find any of your books?”

“Oh. No.” Without turning around, she tried to pinch the quilt corner into the crease between the lid and the trunk. “Well, I gotta go.” She started moving toward the door but the guilt overtook her before her hand reached the knob. Mama had always told her that a lie was a lot like a hot dog in a microwave: If left alone, it just got bigger and bigger until it burst and made a real mess.

Jewel turned around and faced her dad again. “Sorry.”

He looked at her sharply. “For what?”

“For being in here. I came because I wanted to see what was in here and go through Mama’s things. I know you keep the door closed to keep me out, and I’m sorry that I trespassed.”

He sat down on the bare mattress on the bed frame and let out a heavy sigh and even tried a smile. “Actually, I kept it closed because I didn’t want you to be upset by seeing your mother’s things.” He looked down at his hands before looking up at her again. “I read you wrong a lot, don’t I?”

Jewel spotted the flash of white still dangling out of the trunk and quickly moved to it, putting herself between the quilt and her dad. “You could have asked, you know. And I would have told you that being with Mama’s things makes her a part of me again.” She thought for a moment, trying to think of words that would make him understand without hurting his feelings. “See, I thought you kept the door closed because you didn’t want to be reminded of her.”

He stared at her for a long moment as if seeing her for the first time. “You amaze me. You really amaze me. How did you get to be so smart?”

She grinned. “I inherited it from my mother.”

Her dad smiled, too, as he stood. “So I guess that means that we can start keeping this door open.”

Jewel nodded, but kept her back against the trunk.

Her dad stopped in front of her and indicated the trunk. “Did you find anything interesting in there?”

She shrugged. “No—not really. Just some old stuff. Junk, actually.” She added quickly, “But I’d still like to keep it.”

He reached up and patted her on the head, and she realized it had been a long time since she’d allowed him close enough to touch her.

“I promise that I’ll never take anything out of this room without talking to you first, okay?”

“It’s a deal.” She stuck out her hand as if to shake. He took it, then pulled her closer for a hug. She wanted to pull back at first, before she realized just how good it felt to be hugged by somebody who loved you—even if that person didn’t seem to have the first clue about who you really were. She had always loved being hugged by her father, but after her mom died they had fallen out of the habit. It was as if they needed to draw up new rules now that there were only two players.

“I miss her too, you know. And . . . and I know I wasn’t around a lot before and that you used to always go to your mother with your problems. But, well, if there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here, okay? No matter what I’m doing, if I’m in my workroom or whatever, I want you to come to me and I’ll give you my undivided attention. Promise.”

He ruffled her hair as if she were six again and set her away from him. His eyes looked suspiciously bright, so she looked away, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Well, except for me not being allowed to try out for the swim team, everything is fine in my world right now. But I’ll keep you posted.”