Pieces of the Heart (9 page)

“I’m a good swimmer. I know my dad doesn’t think so, but I am. I just need a coach to help me be a more competitive swimmer so I can make the swim team. And I’d be a quick learner. . . .”

Caroline shook her head. “No. It’s not that. It’s just that . . . I can’t. I haven’t been in the water in almost thirteen years.”

Jewel regarded her silently, her eyes probing where Caroline didn’t want to go. “Why?”

Why?
How could she explain something she didn’t really understand herself?
Because I have a horrible scar that will show in a bathing suit? Because it reminds me of my dead brother?
“Because I haven’t had time. I don’t think I could even float now, so I couldn’t possibly be the right person. . . .”

Jewel leaned forward. “I’ve seen your trophies. I think you’re the perfect person to coach me.” She smiled angelically. “Especially if you need to use the phone in peace.”

Caroline stood abruptly, knocking over her empty Coke can. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Jewel stood too. “My mom died while swimming, you know. But I don’t think she’d want me to stay away from the water. She’d have been the first person to kick my butt and push me into the lake and tell me to get over it.”

A corner of Caroline’s mouth turned up. “Yeah. That sounds like Shelby.” And then she thought of the water again, of the cool weight of it against her bare skin. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest, the feeling of restlessness falling on her again. She needed to get outside. She needed to breathe. “I need to go. Thanks for the Coke.” Taking deep breaths, she made her way to the back door without waiting for Jewel.

Jewel called out to her, “I’ll see you Saturday.”

Caroline turned back, a questioning look on her face.

“At dinner. Your mom invited me and my dad.”

Caroline nodded slowly, then continued walking. Maybe if she walked fast enough she’d be back in Atlanta before anybody noticed.

Drew ran his hand over the smooth wood of the rocking chair, feeling the power of creation under his fingertips. He leaned forward and blew off a small scattering of sawdust, then straightened to get an overall perspective.

He’d have to wait and see what Mrs. Collier thought, but in his own mind it was perfection. The curves of the spindles and arms were soft and round, like a woman’s body, the seat of the chair like the shape of feminine hips. He wasn’t sure where the inspiration had come from; maybe it was the thoughts of Shelby that followed him while he worked. Maybe the outline of a woman’s body embracing empty space was really what his life had become.

Drew propped the back door open, then hoisted the chair and carried it next door. As he approached the back steps he heard the halting notes of a piano. He set the chair down on the porch and paused a moment to listen.

He recognized the Chopin nocturne from one of Shelby’s cassette tapes he kept in the glove box of his truck because he hadn’t had the heart to give them away. The notes from the piano were choppy and unpracticed, but the depth of emotion erased all imperfections. The notes became music, and the music touched that part of him that he’d been able to reach only through woodcarving tools and sandpaper since Shelby’s death. It refreshed him and unnerved him at the same time as he realized he had a fifty-fifty chance of figuring out who the pianist was.

He knocked on the door and the music immediately ceased as if turned off by a switch. There was a long pause and then the sound of footsteps walking across wood floors to the door. He forced a smile when Caroline answered.

She was barefoot and wore jean shorts and a high-necked T-shirt. Her hair was swept back in a ponytail and her face was bare of even a trace of makeup. Her skin was pale, as if it had been kept away from the sun for a very long time. A corner of his mouth quirked up. It would be like her, he thought, to shun the warmth and brightness of the sun, and he wondered again what had made her be like that.

“Was that you playing?”

Caroline turned her head over her shoulder as if seeking another person to answer. Drew followed her gaze to the upright piano set against the wall in the great room. The lid had been closed over the keys as if to hide the evidence. “Yes.”

“Have you been playing for a long time?”

“No.”

“That was Chopin, wasn’t it?”

She sighed, as if the effort of issuing monosyllabic responses were too much for her. “Yes.”

“Is your mother home?”

“No.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away for a moment, trying not to grin. She reminded him so much of Jewel’s pre-pubescent attitude it was hard to believe that Caroline wasn’t thirteen. And then he remembered the smile that had radiated from her face when she’d been examining the quilt in Rainy Days, and he looked back at Caroline, trying to fathom where that woman was and why she was kept hidden.

Drew nodded toward the rocking chair on the porch floor beside him. “I’ve brought a chair over for your mother on approval. If she likes it, I can make three more for her.”

Caroline glanced over at the chair as if noticing it for the first time. She left her position as guardian of the back door and placed both hands on the arms of the chair. Slowly she slid her hands around the curved headrest and down the rest of the chair until she reached the rockers at the bottom. It was like watching a woman caress a new lover for the first time, and Drew had to look away for a moment.

Finally she said, “It’s very feminine, isn’t it? It reminds me of a pregnant woman almost. Sort of lush and round and ripe. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Drew stared at her in surprise.
Lush and round and ripe.
Those were the same words that had bounced around his head as he’d been making the chair. He shifted the chair over so that the seat of it was facing Caroline. “Do you want to take it for a trial spin?”

She gave him a tentative smile before sitting down, placing her hands on the armrests, closing her eyes, and leaning her head back. She was swallowed by the chair like a child in her mother’s arms, and for the second time since he’d known her he saw the wariness leave her face. Once again he was intrigued by this woman and the masks she wore and wondered if getting beneath them would be worth the bruises he’d have to endure.

She pushed her feet against the porch floor and rocked back and forth a few times before opening her eyes again, and for a moment Drew was broadsided by their gray-green intensity. Until she spoke. “You could make a fortune mass-producing your furniture. I’ve seen only two pieces up close, but if there’s more where this stuff came from, the sky’s the limit.”

Something deflated inside of him. He’d thought for a moment that she understood that what she was sitting in wasn’t just a piece of furniture. He should have realized that he’d known her long enough to have known better.

He leaned over her. “Get up. Please,” he added.

She stood, obviously annoyed. “It’s just silly for you to be selling your furniture piece by piece at Rainy’s when you could be making a lot of money. Trust me—I know a lot about it. I’ve worked for a furniture manufacturer for over ten years. Kobylt Brothers Furniture—maybe you’ve heard of them?”

Drew lifted the chair and moved it to safety at the other side of the porch. “I’m not interested.”

“Why not? Your pieces are so unique. I could see an entire line coming from just a few of your designs. It could even be called the Drew . . .” She paused, and he could see she was having trouble coming up with his last name. He didn’t enlighten her.

Caroline waved her hand through the air. “Well, whatever. It could be a big deal for you.”

“I don’t want or need a big deal. I’m happy the way things are.” Despite his words, he felt the old spark ignite inside of him.
It’s been so long.
Pushing the thought away, he moved toward the porch steps. “Just tell your mother I was here and to let me know if she wants more of these chairs.”

She followed him with a determined gait. “Can I come see your workroom and check out more of your stuff? I’d love to tell my boss—”

“No.” He cut her off and kept walking.

She had the decency to stay on the bottom step instead of following him home like a lost puppy. “I just want to come and see what else—”

He turned abruptly, keeping his anger tightly in check. If there was one thing he had learned from his father it was that the only thing anger ever guaranteed was an awkward apology later. “What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand? Maybe in Atlanta it’s different, but up here in the mountains it means ‘absolutely, positively no, not ever.’ ” He turned back around and continued walking.

“Don’t just walk away from me! I’m trying to help you, and you won’t even give me the time of day to listen to a possibly lucrative business arrange—”

He heard something scrape against wood and then shatter, and for a moment he thought she’d thrown something at him. But when he turned around to look he saw a pot and its bright red geranium splattered on the cement walkway at the bottom of the porch steps, and Caroline was slumped next to it on the bottom step, where she’d apparently fallen and knocked over the pot. One pale arm clung to the railing, preventing her body from joining the unfortunate plant.

He reached her in several long strides and was alarmed at how blanched the skin on her face appeared. He placed the back of his hand to her cheek, then drew it back, the feel of it reminding him of Shelby after they had pulled her from the water.

“Where can I find your mother?”

She had managed to fold herself in half and had her forehead resting on her knees. She didn’t look at him, but her voice was full of alarm. “No! I’ll be all right. I just got a little light-headed, that’s all. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

He looked at her doubtfully. “Can I at least bring you inside? Call a doctor?”

She shook her head in response, her forehead still pressed into her knees.

“Go jump in the lake?” The side of her cheek wrinkled and he knew she was smiling.

“Now there’s a thought.”

Relieved that she seemed like herself, he straightened. “I’m going to get you a glass of water and some damp washcloths. I’ll be right back.”

Surprisingly she didn’t argue, so he went inside and quickly found what he was looking for, as well as a cordless phone, and he picked it up, too. When he returned he saw that she hadn’t moved from her turtle-in-a-shell position, her face pressed neatly against the tops of her knees.

He squatted next to her. “Do you want to move to the lounge chair? You might be more comfortable, and the view is better.”

She sent him a sharp look, and he was sure now that she was on the road to recovery. She didn’t brush away his hands when he bent to help her up, so he knew she wasn’t totally herself yet. He settled her into the lounge chair and handed her the glass of water. She took brief little sips, as if she were suspicious of too much of a good thing.

She leaned her head back, and Drew placed one of the washcloths on her forehead. He moved forward to pull the neck of her T-shirt down so it wouldn’t get wet from the second washcloth, but she pushed his hand away, a look of panic crossing her face, then pulled at the neck of her shirt to raise it higher.

“I’m fine. I don’t need another one.”

“But if you put this on your neck, it will cool you off quicker.”

“I don’t want it.” She paused for a moment. “But thank you.”

He sat down on the edge of an adjacent Adirondack chair and placed the unused washcloth next to him. “Are you going to be okay? I still think I should call your mother or at least a doctor.”

Caroline shook her head. “No. Really. I’ll be fine.”

He rested his elbows on his thighs and steepled his fingers. “Does this happen often?”

She didn’t answer right away. “It didn’t used to. It’s happened a couple of times at work—which is why I’m here now. I’m supposed to be staying calm and getting better.” She opened one eye and looked at him meaningfully. “But that doesn’t seem to be happening.”

She closed her eyes again, and he stared down at her pale, fragile skin and saw the blue veins on her hands and arms. Whether or not it was what she’d intended to do, the guilt hit him hard and deep. His father had done a pretty good job of teaching him all about guilt, and Drew had been an avid learner.

Drew was pretty sure he wasn’t the one who’d been arguing before Caroline had collapsed on the porch steps. But when he saw her with her eyes closed and her physical frailty more evident, the guilt almost overwhelmed him. And when he thought of the way she’d looked the one time he’d seen her smile, and he’d seen the woman beneath the mask, he knew it was more than guilt that made him open his mouth.

“Are you supposed to be doing anything while you’re here besides relaxing? Like exercising or something?”

She seemed to answer reluctantly. “Yeah—I’m supposed be doing light cardio. But unless I missed it, there doesn’t seem to be a gym in Hart’s Valley.”