Pieces of the Heart (31 page)

Drew was just finishing hanging Jewel’s poster advertising the quilt auction when Rainy came in after another quilting session at Margaret Collier’s. She leaned against the closed front door and blew out a long breath.

Climbing down the ladder, Drew asked, “Rough night at the quilting bee?”

“You have no idea.” Unbuttoning her thick cardigan, she added, “There’s something about four women, all related somehow, sitting around a table and making a quilt for a dead woman whom they all knew. I always read in those parenting magazines to talk to your child about important things while you’re driving a car or doing something else. It makes talking easier. I guess the same can be said about quilting. You’d think those women had taken a vow of silence for ten years and are now able to finally talk.”

“Gee, sorry I missed it. Maybe next time you can invite me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be so cocky. You know that saying about the hand that rocks the cradle? Same can be said about pulling a needle and thread. We’ll have all the world’s problems solved by the time we’re through.”

He laughed, then thought about a person with problems closer to home. “What about Caroline? Do you think you’ll have her problems all solved by the time the quilt’s finished?”

Rainy pushed away from the door. “I wish it could be that easy. There’s a point where a person’s hurts become a part of them, and to set them loose would be like losing a hand or a foot.” She sighed rubbing her hands over her arms. “Not that Margaret and I and a whole heap of doctors haven’t tried—we have, for thirteen years. I don’t know what it will take. I sure was hoping that time spent up here with her mother would help. Caroline hasn’t been back, you know—not since the accident.”

Drew followed Rainy into the kitchen and sat down at the table while she put a teakettle on the stove. There was something about Rainy’s kitchen table that seemed conducive to solving the world’s problems. He should probably suggest she donate it to the United Nations. He smoothed his hands on the oak surface, remembering Caroline sitting here the day before, still feeling the sting of her words and hearing the hollowness in her voice.

“Caroline told me about the accident—how Jude died and why she needed a new heart.”

Rainy set two mugs on the table, with tea bags hanging from them. “I can’t say I’m surprised. She hasn’t talked about it in thirteen years, but I figured you of all people would pry it out of her.”

She sat down, her face looking drawn and tired. He placed a hand on her arm. “You stay seated. When the kettle boils I’ll get it. You need to be taking it easy.”

She grinned but it didn’t hide the exhaustion on her face. “Look who you’re talking to. I don’t think after all these years of running this store that I know how to take it easy.” She tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “No worry. It’s a signed deal, and the store will be yours in a month. If you still want it, that is.”

Drew looked at her in surprise. “Of course I want it. I wouldn’t have signed the contract otherwise.”

She just nodded, giving him the “I know better” look that she normally reserved for Caroline.

“When Caroline told me about Jude’s car accident, I got the feeling that she wasn’t telling me the whole story—that she was deliberately leaving something out.”

Rainy regarded him silently, and he knew he’d guessed correctly. The kettle whistled and he got up to retrieve it, then poured the boiling water into the mugs, the steam rising into the air like kept secrets.

Rainy put her hands around the mug as if to warm them but kept her eyes on Drew. “Don’t you be asking me to tell you more. It’s not my place. If she thinks you should know, then she’ll tell you. Otherwise, leave it be.” She leaned forward to look in his face. “You don’t know what she’s been through, not really. Most people wouldn’t have survived it at all.”

“I know,” he said, patting her hand. “I’ve learned that. Once you get through her prickly exterior, there’s a great person hiding underneath.”

She turned her hand palm up and squeezed his. “I knew you’d see that. Just be patient.”

He felt embarrassed all of a sudden, as if just now remembering he was talking to his mother-in-law. “It’s not what you think, Rainy. It’s just that Caroline . . . well, it’s hard to miss her, you know what I mean? It’s a small town, and everywhere I go it seems I bump into her and that huge chip on her shoulder. You know I’ve never been able to back down from a challenge.”

She squeezed his hand again. “Don’t be embarrassed. I understand.”

He dunked his tea bag into the hot water one more time before pulling it out. He avoided looking into her eyes because he wasn’t sure he wanted to see how much she really did understand.

“By the way, I had a picture of Shelby in my wallet, but it’s not there anymore. I’m thinking it might have fallen out here in the store but I can’t seem to find it. Have you seen it?”

Rainy shook her head. “No, but it’s funny you should mention it. I had a small wallet-size photo of Shelby and Jewel when Jewel was born that I’d taken out of the frame to polish it, but when I went to go put it back in, the thing had just vanished. I hope it didn’t get thrown away.”

Drew nodded absently. “I’m sure they’ll show up. If not, I’ll go through Shelby’s things back at the house and see if she kept negatives or duplicates.”

The loon thrashed about in the straw bedding in his pen. Rainy stood and bent over to pet him. “He’s getting restless. I think he senses the change of the season and is eager to be on his way.” She stroked his back and spoke quietly to the bird. “Soon, little one. Soon you’ll be strong enough to be out on your own, chasing down the moon.”

Drew stood to join her, watching as the bird settled under Rainy’s gentle touch, wishing that all problems could be as easily soothed, and imagining Caroline clinging to the wings of the bird, rising up into the night sky.

Jewel closed the diary slowly, glad she’d read it, but a part of her wishing that she hadn’t. More than ever she needed to keep it hidden from her dad. It wasn’t like her mom had cheated on her dad; they hadn’t even met yet when Jude took her mother to the senior prom. But as strong and confident as her dad appeared to be to everyone around him, she knew he would be hurt.

She stuck the diary beneath her mattress before going to the room where her mother’s things were kept. The door was kept open now, but she was pretty sure her dad never came in here. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet. Or maybe he just needed an invitation from her to go through everything together. The thought startled her. It was the first time she’d ever thought of her father as unsure or hesitant about anything, but the more she thought, the more she could see the truth in it. Her dad needed her to bring him into this room and deal with old memories he couldn’t quite let go of.

Jewel opened the trunk, searching for the football jersey she’d seen before. She found it near the bottom, the number 02 emblazoned on the front in bright red. As she pulled it out, it unfolded and she saw the back for the first time. “ ‘Collier,’ ” she read out loud, holding it close to her chest, wanting to capture what her mother had felt, if only for a moment.

But in her hands it was cool and limp, an empty shirt that had once belonged to somebody she’d never met. She felt the absence, but that was all. Crumpling it into a ball beneath her shirt, she shut the lid of the trunk before returning to her room.

Caroline sat at the quilting table with Jewel and the two older women, and wondered how it had come about that she was sitting here doing something she had promised herself she’d never do again. She glanced up at her mother, who was squinting through her bifocals as she tried to thread a needle, and knew that his had been her mother’s mission from the start. She just wasn’t sure why.

Caroline reached over and took the needle and threaded it before handing it back. She warmed under her mother’s appreciative glance and bent back to her own work, to the sewing and stitching of Shelby’s quilt. She was aware of the four pairs of hands that held it, one smaller and three larger, and how all of them had been part of the life they were commemorating. They each added their own patterns, their own thread, their own stitches, weaving them together to make a whole. She supposed that was how Shelby’s life had been: gently enriched by those she knew and those who knew her. It was a celebration, in a way, and Caroline wanted to thank her mother for bringing her here to this table, with these women, but when she looked up to speak, her mother stood, and the moment was over.

“Can I get anybody coffee or anything?”

“I’d like a beer.”

Everybody turned to Rainy in surprise.

Margaret said, “It’s only nine thirty in the morning, Rainy. You can’t have a beer.”

“Who says? I’m sixty-nine years old. I’ve lost a husband and a child and I’m recovering from cancer. I woke up this morning and said, ‘Damn—I’ve earned the right to drink whatever I want, whenever I want.’ ”

Caroline’s mother stood looking at her best friend with her hands on her hips. “That’s ridiculous. You’ll turn into an alcoholic if you start drinking beer in the morning.”

Rainy pushed her bifocals down her nose to stare up at her friend. “I haven’t had a beer since Bill died. I don’t think having one now will send me on the road to ruin.” She put down the fabric she’d been working on. “You have to learn how to relax, Margaret. Live a little. I find that it’s those times when I do something out of the ordinary that I learn something new. You should try it sometime.”

Margaret pursed her lips. “Well, you can’t have a beer.”