Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (12 page)

Then my mom walked into the room and said, “Thank you.”

Piper looked up and said, “Take care of her.”

She handed me/the little girl to my mom, who walked away. But though I’d been the girl who my mother carried away, I was still in the room with Piper who sat at the table and cried as if her heart would break.

I reached for her, but I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t help her. She faded right before my eyes. She tied a scarf over her head, covering her hair, and then she turned pale, thinned, and then turned into a misty gray figure, losing solidity as I watched. She handed me Fiona and said, “It’s your turn now. Take care of her.”

And then I was sitting on top of the hope chest, rocking Fiona who was suddenly an infant with red hair. I cried and said, “I don’t know how to do this.”

And then I woke up.

“Ban, wake up,” someone said.

I woke up and found myself wrapped in Logan’s arms.

“Shh,” he said as he stroked my hair in the same way my mother once had, but the feelings his touch evoked were not filled with childlike innocence at all.

“It’s all right. You’re not alone,” he murmured.

“I feel as if I am,” I admitted. “I feel as if I’m going to lose Piper when I’ve only just found her. I feel as if all the talks I’ve wanted to have with her will never happen. I feel as if all I’ll be able to do is see her through a glass wall or with a mask over my face.”

“You’re not going to lose her,” he said with more confidence than I felt. “Can I get you something? A drink?”

I shook my head. “My mother always did that. Not Piper, I mean my mom. She’d offered me a drink if I had a nightmare. I never wanted a drink; I just wanted her to hold me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as safe and as loved as I did in her arms.”

Until now, I realized.

Here in the streetlight-lit room in Ned’s old house, being held by Logan, I felt safe. I knew I should pull away. I knew I should stand on my own two feet. I’d decided that after Carey had left. And yet, I found myself snuggling closer.

Logan leaned back against the headboard and said, “Close your eyes. If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here with you for a few minutes.”

I should have minded, but I didn’t. “Thank you,” I said.

He smelled of soap. A kind of fresh, clean scent that reminded me of . . . though I realized the scents were dissimilar, I realized the smell reminded me of Piper’s garden. I felt slightly amused by the realization.

And then the next thing I knew, it was morning.

Logan was still propped against the headboard, and I was still curled into the crook of his arm with my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of his chest.

I knew I should move.

I might inadvertently be Logan’s roommate, but I didn’t know him well enough for this.

But knowing and doing are frequently two separate things. I hadn’t realized how much turmoil I was in until now . . . until I had spent a few hours in Logan’s arms. All my worries and cares faded, and I simply felt safe.

Calm.

So I didn’t move.

But even without moving, I felt an ache in my hip where they’d removed my bone marrow yesterday. It throbbed along to the beat of my pulse. It wasn’t an agonizing pain, but it was present.

It reminded me that part of me was even now flowing through Piper. Just as part of her had always flowed through me.

I thought again of mitochondrial DNA. T. P. E.’s DNA linked us both. We had always been connected, and now we were reconnected.

And maybe, if we were lucky, we’d have years to see those connections grow and strengthen.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Logan murmured, his voice scratchy from sleep. “You okay?”

I sat up and disengaged myself from Logan. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m so sorry about last night. Between the stress and the pain pill—”

“And surgery,” he said.

“The surgery wasn’t that big a deal.” At least not compared to what Piper was going through. She’d gone through a course of heavy-duty chemotherapy. It was supposed to kill off her entire immune system, which would then be ready for the transplant. What the doctors had harvested from me would take over producing healthy white blood cells that would become her new immune system. If everything went right, she’d be cured.

But the chemo was grueling. Piper had mouth sores that were so bad that eating became a problem. And what she did manage to eat she couldn’t keep down.

Ned practically lived at the hospital. I’d taken Fiona in a few times, but we didn’t stay for long. Piper wasn’t in any condition for guests, not even her daughters.

Having seen what she was going through, my surgery seemed like a cakewalk.

Logan obviously didn’t agree. “Any time you have surgery it’s a big deal,” he lectured. “You were under anesthesia, and the surgery itself was invasive. I have today off until class tonight, so you are going to be waited on. Like it or not,” he added with a stern expression, indicating he knew I wouldn’t like it.

I snorted. “I don’t need to be waited on.”

Even though we’d been roommates for only a month, he’d become a friend. And I recognized the stubborn look in his eyes. It was a look that said he planned on winning this battle.

“Sometimes not really needing something but getting it anyway makes it even sweeter,” he said. “I thought we’d get you set up downstairs on the couch. And I’ll start a fire. It’s supposed to be really cool today. You can be a lady of leisure. And because it’s your day, I’ll even let you pick what shows we watch.”

I laughed. “I know your secret, Logan Greer. You like to pretend to be all action films and sports, but at your heart you’re a sci-fi fan.”

He snorted and then added, “You did mention
Firefly
. I thought we could have a marathon today.”

I gingerly eased my legs over the edge of the bed and stood . . . slowly. Very, very slowly.

The throbbing turned into a sharp pain that radiated up my spine. I tried to hide it, but Logan, being Logan, noticed. “And we’re going to get you some breakfast and then one of those lovely little pain pills the doctor gave you.”

“It’s not that bad,” I told him.

“Maybe not, but it’s bad enough. Siobhan, you don’t have to grit your teeth and bear it. If you take it easy today, odds are you’ll feel a lot better tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Fine.”

I made my way downstairs with the speed of someone twice my age as Logan made pancakes.

I sat at the counter and watched as he beat the eggs and then added the other ingredients. He poured the first of the batter on the griddle and brought me a cup of coffee.

“This feels like home,” I said. “My dad is an awful cook. I mean, really awful. When Mom wasn’t home for dinner, his specialty was creamed tuna on toast. And maybe if he could make a white sauce I could have managed it, but . . .” I shook my head.

Logan laughed and turned to flip the pancakes; then he looked at me, waiting for the rest of the story.

“The only dish Dad can make is pancakes. We had them almost every Saturday. He’d call Mom and me to the kitchen by bellowing out
Pancake Saturday
.” I smiled at the memory.

“He seemed nice when I talked to him.”

Dad had wanted to come down for my procedure, but I’d convinced him that it wasn’t necessary. Logan had taken his phone number and kept him posted.

“He is very nice,” I said.

“You should have let him come. Sometimes the people we love need to feel needed. Last year I was home for a couple of months and stayed with Mom. I got the flu and she made me a bed on the couch, just like she used to when I was little, then she spent the day rewatching all six Star Wars movies with me. She debated about watching the originals first, or the first three episodes. I was too sick to participate in the debate, but she did fine on her own,” he said with a bit of laughter.

“What did she decide?”

“One, two, three and then the older ones. I kept waking up to Wookiees and lightsabers. She still talks about it being a special day. I remind her that I’d been sick and slept through half of it. I thought she was going to tease me and say something snarky about that’s what made it special, but what she said was,
That’s just it. You needed me again
.”

“Maybe I should call my dad even though I talked to him yesterday is what you’re saying?” I asked.

“Maybe he just wants to be needed a bit, too.”

I nodded, and Logan served me a stack of pancakes. He had real maple syrup and butter.

“They’re delicious,” I assured him.

“Well, it’s no creamed tuna,” he said with a laugh.

I couldn’t help but laugh as well.

Logan brought his own plate over and sat down next to me. We ate in companionable silence. After I finished about half my pancakes, he handed me a pain pill.

“I think I’ll be okay without it,” I said.

“I saw how you walked into the kitchen. Why don’t you take this one and see how you feel by afternoon? I am a medical professional, remember?”

I smiled. “Okay.”

“Follow me ma’am,” he said, offering me an arm as I hobbled out to the living room. He had a pillow and a quilt laid out on the couch.

“You made me an actual bed on the couch.” It would have seemed sweet no matter what, but after the story about his mom, it seemed even sweeter.

He nodded. “And I have all the
Firefly
DVDs and the movie for after.”

I realized he was recreating his day with his mom, and I felt . . . I wasn’t sure what I felt, but it was nice.

“Let me start the fire then clean up the kitchen before we turn them on.”

I called my dad while he was in the kitchen.

He picked up on the first ring. “Ban, you okay?”

I heard the concern in his voice. “Yes. I just called to say good morning and to check in.”

“How are you really? I was going to call later. I didn’t want to wake you up if you were sleeping.”

“I’m fine. Achy but fine. I thought maybe you and Margo would like to take a drive down to Erie this weekend. I’ve been helping with Fiona, but you’ll love her and—”

“Honey, I can’t wait to meet her. I didn’t want to butt in, but these people—they’re a part of you, so of course I want to meet them.”

I felt tears gather in my eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too.” I collected myself and added, “I was talking about you this morning.”

“Oh?” he said.

“Logan made me pancakes, and I said they were your specialty.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “They still are.”

“I might have mentioned creamed tuna, too,” I admitted, trying to hold back the laughter.

“And of course you told him how delicious it is, right?” Dad asked.

I made a delicate gagging noise. “It’s awful, Dad. Utterly awful. But I do love you.”

“I know, honey. Your mom knew it, too.” As if he could read my mind he added, “You’ve got more than enough heart to love us all.”

That was my dad. He’d always known my secret worries without me having to say a thing. “I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

“Yes. Maybe we’ll leave early so that Logan and I can make you ladies brunch.”

“I’ll have to see when he’s working, but if not Logan, I’m sure Fiona would make brunch with you. Margo and I can manage to be waited on.”

Logan came back into the living room as I hung up the phone. “Dad’s coming on Saturday, if that’s okay.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure when you were working—” I started, only to be interrupted by the doorbell.

I glanced at the clock. It was only seven thirty in the morning. Ned was getting Fiona off to school before going to the hospital. Maybe it was them?

Maybe something was wrong with Piper. My worries about not having the time I wanted with her grew like a giant balloon—expanding at a frightening speed as Logan went and got the door.

It wasn’t Ned or Fiona who walked in the room. Cooper, Piper’s best friend, came in with a smile. My balloon of worry popped, and I could breathe again.

“I saw the smoke and lights, so I knew someone was up. I know we’ve only met a couple of times, and I don’t make a habit of popping in on acquaintances, but you’re Piper’s daughter, and you just . . .” She burst into tears and thrust a box at me. “I brought you donuts. I know, it’s utterly absurd, but I wanted to do something to say thank you.”

She brushed away tears and shrugged. “Like, I said, I know, it’s stupid. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I said and set the box of donuts down on the coffee table.

I felt awkward with Piper’s best friend. I felt as if she wanted something more from me, and I didn’t know what, so I didn’t know how to give it to her.

“Well, I should go.” Cooper taught across the street.

“Thanks for stopping,” I said awkwardly. I wasn’t quite prepared when she leaned down and hugged me before she practically ran out of the house.

“You okay?” Logan asked after she left.

I nodded. “I am. It’s just that . . .”

“Just that?” Logan prompted.

“I don’t know what to do with that kind of emotion from people who are practically strangers. Though even as I say the words
practically strangers
, I realized that none of you are that. Not really. With my parents, and now with Margo, I’m connected and I understand the fabric of that connection. With Piper, Ned, Fiona, you, Cooper, my grandparents, and everyone else I’ve met here, I’m connected, but it’s as if I can’t understand the fabric of it. Intellectually, I get it. I’m related by blood to Piper and Fiona.”

“And to your grandparents.”

I nodded. “And there’s an emotional connection to Ned and Cooper that’s almost blood. And you?”

“Me?” he asked innocently.

“You’re the biggest tangle of complicated connections that I don’t understand.” That was the truth. I felt as if I’d known Logan my entire life. I felt as if I could tell him anything.

I thought about how he’d held me after my nightmare. There was definitely a connection there, a complicated one.

“Me? I’m as uncomplicated as they come.”

“I met you half-naked. Moved in with you that same day. You’ve been a friend, now a nursemaid—”