Pieces of the Heart (30 page)

C
AROLINE KNOCKED ON JEWEL’S DOOR FOR THE SECOND TIME and wondered if she’d forgotten about her lesson this morning, but quickly dismissed the idea. Jewel was usually already on the dock tapping her foot impatiently while she waited for Caroline. If she were late this morning, then something had to be wrong.

She lifted her hand to knock again when the door opened. Jewel stood inside wearing her pajamas, but she had a large beach towel wrapped around her middle.

“Did you forget about our lesson this morning? I can wait while you change, if you’re still up for it.”

Jewel stuck her head out the door and looked both ways, as if checking to make sure her dad wasn’t there watching, before opening the door wider to let Caroline in. “I can’t have my lesson today.”

“Why not? Are you sick?”

“Yes. No. Well, not really.”

Caroline looked at her, trying to decipher Jewel’s answer. The girl certainly didn’t look ill. “Are you sick or not? I can go get my mom if you are. She’s got a medicine cabinet that would make a hospital jealous. She’s definitely the one you want to go to if you have an upset stomach or something. Just not if you have a scraped knee.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just . . . I can’t wear a bathing suit. For about a week.”

Caroline finally realized what was wrong. Gently she said, “Oh, I see. You got your period. Is it your first time?”

Jewel nodded, looking down at her bare feet and wiggling her toes.

“Do you need anything—pads or tampons?”

A small flush covered her cheeks as she shook her head. “No. My dad just went to the store for some stuff. He’ll be right back.”

“Your dad? Your dad went to the store to buy you sanitary products?” She tried to think of the Drew Reed she knew doing such a nonmacho thing, and found that it wasn’t so difficult.

“Well. If you’re comfortable with it, we could still go out to the lake—after your dad leaves, of course.”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“If you don’t want to swim, we could still go down to the dock if you want. I’ve, um, borrowed a bathing suit, and I could show you a few things in the water while you watch—even if you don’t get in.”

Jewel’s eyes widened. “You’re going to actually get in the water?”

Caroline shrugged, trying to act casual about something that was scaring her to death.

“Cool. Then I’ll definitely be there.” She hitched the towel tighter around her middle. “Can I get you something while we wait? My dad just made a pot of coffee; I’ll get you a cup if you’d like.”

“Is it regular?”

Jewel nodded with a grin. “Yep. But I’m only going to let you have one cup, okay?”

Caroline rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “All right. And I like it black—nothing that might interfere with the caffeine.”

Jewel disappeared into the kitchen as she called out, “And I’ll bring a glass of water, too.”

Caroline just shook her head as she wandered into the dining room, noting that two more chairs had been made but not yet stained. She studied the table again, with the intricate inlays on the surface that resembled strokes of paint from a paintbrush. Flattening her hand against the table she once more felt the shock of awareness she remembered from the first time she’d done that. It was almost as if she could feel the passion and see the dreams of the person who had crafted it, almost as if it were a living thing.

She felt exhausted suddenly and sat down, resting her head in her hands. How long had it been since she had felt anything enough to transfer the feeling? To make her utterly exhausted yet exhilarated? She remembered the feeling when she used to race in swim meets, and she sometimes now caught glimpses of it when she played the piano or when she’d been working on Shelby’s quilt. But now it always seemed to her to be something she denied herself.
For good reason,
she tried to tell herself, but the words weren’t as convincing as they used to be.

Her gaze fell on one of the table legs she hadn’t had the time to examine on her last visit. She remembered Jewel telling her that the room and its furnishings were dedicated to Shelby, and she thought about this as she knelt in front of the third leg.

This one had definite waves almost halfway up the table leg, each one a different shape and size, perfectly mimicking the waves in the ocean. She sat back on her heels, puzzled. Shelby had died in the ocean; why had Drew chosen to remember that here?

Placing her hands on the table leg, she slid them upward, feeling the smooth wood against her fingers, then stopped. She’d missed the sky part of the table leg—the empty expanse of wood rising above the water that held only a canoe and two people, both without oars. And above them, flying close to the bottom of the tabletop, was a flat-billed bird with a short neck and a long body soaring through the dark wood of night.

She brushed the tips of her fingers across the faces of the two people in the canoe and understood. She understood what Drew had meant when he’d carved this table leg. And she knew why there were only two people instead of three.
Jude and Shelby. Together forever in a place nobody else can go.
Rocking back on her heels, she fought the urge to cry, wishing that she didn’t understand the depths of the man who’d carved them, and a little bit frightened that she did.

“Here’s your coffee.” Jewel stood behind her, clutching the towel with one hand and handing her a steaming cup of coffee in the other. “Do you like it?” she said, indicating the table leg with her chin.

Caroline stood and gratefully accepted the mug and took a scalding sip to knock down the lump that had formed in her throat. “Yes. Very much. Your dad is . . . an artist.”

Jewel smiled. “Yeah. He’s pretty talented. You’d think with two artistic parents I’d be able to draw more than stick figures.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. At least I look like Mom. Otherwise I’d think I was adopted.”

“No chance of that. It’s uncanny how much you look like her.”

They both turned at the sound of a slamming car door from outside, then simultaneously widened their eyes.

Jewel spoke first. “He can’t know you’re here—or he’ll probably guess why, and I’m not ready to tell him.” She grabbed Caroline’s arm and started dragging her toward the front foyer. Caroline put her coffee cup on the unfinished tabletop and followed, wanting to tell Jewel that her dad already knew, and quickly dismissing the idea. It was between the two of them to work out, and she had no business getting in the middle of it.

Which was why she didn’t protest too much when Jewel shoved her into the coat closet. She stood pressed against the door with plastic-covered winter coats against her back, nearly gagging on the heavy scent of mothballs. Muffled voices, a deep-pitched one and Jewel’s lighter one, came through the door. The cadences were familiar to her as that of a parent and child, and the sound sent a stab of longing through her—a longing for the way things used to be when she’d been part of a family.
And the way things could still be.

She pressed her forehead against the closed door and recalled her mother’s words of hopefulness.
That didn’t mean that there wasn’t something else for us out there—something to help us make a new start. I still think there is.
Caroline shut her eyes, listening to Drew’s rumble of laughter through the door. But wasn’t it thirteen years too late?

Her eyes jerked open as she realized Drew’s voice was getting louder. Before she could burrow deeper, the door opened and Drew thrust her coffee mug at her.

“I believe this is yours.”

She took it and just stared at him, too surprised to find any words.

“Don’t let her know that I know you’re here. I’m going to leave now so you two can have your lesson.”

He closed the door as quickly as he’d opened it, and Caroline couldn’t help but smile. There was something sweet about a dad who would keep a daughter’s secret until she was ready to reveal it.

Caroline sank to the floor and remained in the closet, sipping her coffee, until Jewel came to let her out.

Jewel sat in Caroline’s chair on the dock, their positions reversed this morning. She watched as Caroline slid her sweat suit off, revealing very pale skin and slim, long limbs.

“Ever thought of being one of those underwear models who wear the wings?”

Caroline held the sweatshirt against her chest, fighting a smile. “You’re so full of it. I’m flat as a board, and if I have three more heart surgeries people could play tic-tac-toe on my chest.”

Jewel almost spit out her orange juice. “Please don’t be funny while I’m drinking.” She wiped at the drips of juice on her chin with her sleeve, shocked that Caroline would make a joke about her scar—and just as pleased. “Hey, can I be Xs?”

Caroline threw her sweatshirt at Jewel and hit her in the face. When she’d pushed them away so she could see, Caroline stood at the side of the dock, her toes over the edge, her black one-piece bathing suit making her look like a long, sleek bird.

“No diving.” Jewel smiled at her own joke, but she sobered when she realized that Caroline wasn’t paying any attention to her or to anything except for the dark water of the lake and something else that Jewel couldn’t see.

Caroline moved her lips as if talking, and Jewel felt the telltale prickles of an oncoming headache at the back of her neck as she heard the silent words as if they’d been whispered in her ear.
Forgive me, Jude. Forgive me.
The lapping against the dock pilings seemed to have stopped, offering a gentle quietness like the kind found inside a confessional.

The sun pushed out behind clouds, shining light on the dock and their patch of water, and Jewel watched as Caroline stepped forward into the water, her entry hardly causing a splash. She popped up to the surface quickly, probably the same way Jewel had done in reaction to the cold. Caroline wiped her hair out of her face, then stood perfectly still, like a person who stepped onto a moving sidewalk and wasn’t sure if they should stand or walk.

Then she leaned back in the water, letting herself float as she stared up into the bright sky, fanning her arms slowly to keep herself afloat. Jewel’s head pounded louder now, making it hard to see, but she stood and walked to the edge of the dock so she could watch a miracle.

With long, sure strokes, Caroline began the back crawl, her movements at first choppy and unpracticed but quickly becoming stronger and more purposeful. She flipped after a while and swam back to the dock using her freestyle stroke, her body cutting through the water like a needle through fabric, soft waves in her wake.

Caroline stood up in front of the dock and looked at Jewel. “This water is freezing. How come you never told me it was this cold?”

Jewel shrugged. “I don’t mind the cold. And I wanted to learn.”

Caroline nodded. “You’re doing a great job. I don’t know if I’ve said that to you before.”

“Nope. You don’t have to—I can tell.”

“Really? How?”

“Oh, I don’t know—in the way you tell me to do it again, and the way that you start practically every sentence with, ‘When you’re on the swim team’ like I’m a shoo-in or something.” The headache was nearly blinding her now, but she wasn’t finished. “And in the way you hug me when you’re putting my towel around me at the end of my lesson.” She smiled weakly, needing to see Caroline’s reaction.

Caroline stood completely still in the water, watching Jewel with narrowed eyes. “But don’t you need me to say ‘good job’ so that you know you’re doing the right thing?”

Jewel shook her head. “No. My mom once told me that only your heart can tell you that you’re doing something right. She said her aunt Margaret taught her that—I guess that would be your mother. She said that your mom thought that the trophies gave you the ‘good job.’ A parent’s job was to let you know that she loved you whether you got the trophies or not.”

Caroline continued to look at her, as if trying to translate a foreign language. Finally she dipped her head back into the water, turning her hair black. When she stood again, she said, “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a pretty smart kid?”

“All the time.” She would have winked if the pain around her eyes hadn’t been so intense.

Caroline seemed to notice. “Hey, are you all right?”

“Not really. I’ve got another one of those headaches—kinda hit me suddenly. Can you help get me inside and call Grandma Rainy?”

Without answering, Caroline pulled herself up on the dock and quickly dried herself off. Gently helping Jewel from her chair, she put her arm around Jewel’s shoulders. “It’s probably pressure from that big head of yours. Maybe I should ask Rainy to bring some humble pie along with her tea.”

Jewel could see Caroline’s worried expression despite her attempt at humor, and it warmed her. If only her dad could see Caroline as she and her mother saw her—as a warm, caring person—she was sure her dad would stop picking on her. As if testing out her theory, Jewel let her head fall against Caroline’s shoulder and felt Caroline’s arm tighten around her as they walked slowly up to the house.