Pieces of the Heart (34 page)

D
REW PULLED UP INSIDE THE SHADE OF A SCRUBBY PINE IN front of the old cemetery and turned off the ignition. Jewel hadn’t said a word during the short ride and, as usual, he couldn’t think why. For about the hundredth time he wished there were some sort of instruction manual for raising teenage girls. He drove her to school each day and picked her up afterward, and came and sat at the table with her when she did her homework, and he still could coax only the minimum number of words out of her lips. He had no idea what he was doing wrong, but had decided that if he just kept making himself available, she would eventually crack.

He studied her profile now, seeing again her mother’s jaw and nose and gorgeous red, wavy hair. Instead of the familiar pull of grief, he felt only gratitude; gratitude for having been blessed with Shelby’s presence in his life, even for such a short time, and for the gift of the beautiful girl sitting beside him.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, bringing the bunch of mountain laurel blooms up to her nose. “It’s getting better for you, too, isn’t it? I mean, missing her.”

She looked up at him and he nodded, but didn’t say anything. He was too afraid that she’d stop talking.

“It’s not that I don’t think about her every day. It’s just that I sometimes find that I’ve been working on something so hard that I wasn’t thinking about how much I miss her.”

He waited for a while to make sure she was finished speaking. “Yeah. I know what you mean. We’ll carry a little pocket of sadness for your mother for the rest of our lives. And that’s okay. But I think we’re over the worst of it.” He held out his hand to her and she took it.

“I think you’re right. But why? Do you think it’s just because it’s been three years? Or has something else changed?”

He watched his little girl sniff the flowers again, marveling at how damned smart she was. “I would say a little of both. They say time is the great healer, and they’re right. But I also believe that doing what we’ve been doing has helped, too—you with your quilting and me with my furniture. They’ve given us purpose and a reason to call ourselves something other than widower or motherless.” He squeezed her hand. “And maybe you’ve found a good enough parent in me so that you haven’t had to miss your mother so much.”

Those beautiful eyes of hers—not Shelby’s, and not his own, but distinctly Jewel’s—looked back at him. “If I didn’t know you any better, Dad, I’d say you were fishing for a compliment.” And then, in a move that seemed to surprise her as much as it did him, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re more than good enough. Now, can we go? Everybody will be waiting for us.”

Drew pulled his key from the ignition, noticing that the small cross-stitched heart Shelby had given him when they were first married was missing from the key chain. Feeling an odd panic, he searched between the seats and on the floor, but the heart was gone. He looked up to see Jewel watching him.

“It’ll show up, Dad. Come on, we’re late.”

They scrambled out of the truck, and after a backward glance at the floor mat he slammed the door shut.

Caroline stood at the edge of the cemetery watching Rainy and her mother approach a small dogwood tree near the stone wall that bordered the oldest section of the cemetery. She tried to move forward and join them, but something held her back. It was almost a feeling of not being wanted there; of waiting, and wanting, and fear of moving forward.

She turned at the sound of footsteps and spotted Drew and Jewel coming up the gravel path behind her. Jewel carried flowers in one hand and her father’s hand in the other. The sight warmed Caroline, somehow made her feet move. Drew stopped in front of her, and Jewel continued on to where the two older women stood under the dogwood, the two markers lying beneath it.

“I’m glad you came.” His voice reassured her, more than her mother or Rainy had. Despite everything they knew and he didn’t, the fact that he understood why this was so hard for her softened something inside of her and made her reach for his hand. He didn’t look surprised when he took it, and when they moved to stand with the others he didn’t let go.

Jewel knelt by the first marker and placed the beautiful purple flowers next to it. Then she kissed her fingers and touched her mother’s name before standing and stepping back.

Caroline forced her eyes to move to the other marker set into the dark earth close by on the other side of the tree, shaded by its long branches, protected from strong winds and harsh sun the way a mother’s arms had protected Jude and Shelby in life.

Her eyes blurred as she looked at her brother’s grave for the first time and realized that the hand she now held was her mother’s. They knelt together and Caroline leaned forward to read the inscription:

“I remember that,” Caroline whispered, feeling her mother squeeze her hand. “We were in Saint Simons, in that old cemetery there, and Jude read it out loud to us. He said that’s what he’d want on his tombstone.”

Her mother kissed her fingers, then touched the name inscribed on the front.
Jude William Collier.
“I know. I’d forgotten all about it, but you remembered. You told me when you were still in the hospital that that was what needed to be written there. It’s lovely. I’m glad you remembered.”

Caroline only nodded, afraid to speak. She felt as if she were falling into the icy lake again, the brittle awareness of light and feeling. Of being alive. She could hardly breathe, and for a moment she fought for the surface, felt the pressure in her lungs as if they were starved of air. Her mother’s arm went about her, and they were both kneeling in front of the marker, and suddenly Caroline could breathe again. It was as if her mother had reached her hand into the water and pulled her out into the bright sunshine.

Her mother brushed the hair off her face, her expression one of concern. For the first time Caroline wasn’t annoyed by it. “Are you all right? Do you need some water?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Just . . . overwhelmed.” Her mother placed the back of her fingers to Caroline’s forehead. “You feel warm. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

Caroline felt the old familiar flash of annoyance, and it comforted her somehow. It was like knowing things had changed, but not the old things that reminded you of who you were and where you’d been. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.” She looked up at the concerned faces of Drew, Jewel, and Rainy and found a smile. “I’m just . . . thinking about Jude.”

And she was. But now she wasn’t thinking of how he’d died or how much she’d missed him for all these years. She was thinking about the person he’d been, and how he’d always made her smile. Then she remembered the last time she’d seen him, and what he had told her, and some of the joy left, leaving her confused and shaken.

She sat back on the grass that had started browning under the shortened days, following the cycle of the seasons.
Why, Jude? What did you mean?
Her question went unanswered as it had been for the last thirteen years, leaving her empty and wanting.

Her mother spoke softly, keeping her arm around Caroline and pulling her up. “I think we should go. This has been stressful for you, I can tell, and you need to get home and rest.”

Caroline didn’t resist. She allowed her mother to lead her from the cemetery and the two markers that slept side by side under the dogwood tree. She leaned into her mother, feeling the strength and comfort there that she had somehow thought she never needed, and wondering at the same time if it was too late to start needing it now.

The door to the spare bedroom was open, and Drew knew he’d find Jewel there. She’d been silent on the way home, and he hadn’t intruded. She’d seemed preoccupied, and several times during the short trip from the cemetery he’d thought she was about to say something to him, but had remained quiet.

He found her standing by her mother’s trunk, and she jumped when he called her name.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She brushed a strand of bright red hair off her forehead and smiled unevenly. “That’s all right. I was just leaving.”

Disappointed somehow, he stepped back to let her pass before remembering something Rainy had said. “By the way, Grandma Rainy is looking for a quilt your mom might have had in her things. It’s a quilt Caroline was working on for her brother, Jude, before he died. Nobody’s seen it, and we were thinking it might be in here with all of her things.”

Jewel shook her head without even having to think. “Nope. Definitely not in here. And I’ve been through everything, so I’d know.”

He took a step forward, not sure how to read her nervousness. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. I’ve taken everything out of the boxes and put them back, so I definitely would know if I’d seen it.”

“Oh.” He thought back and counted how many times she’d used the word
definitely
. Curious now, he stepped into the room and sat at the edge of the bed. “Did you find anything interesting? I think your mother used to keep a diary when she was younger. I don’t remember seeing it when your grandmother and I packed up her things before we moved.”

Jewel shrugged. “If I do find it, I’ll let you know.”

“I was actually thinking you might like to read it. Sort of a way to get to know her better.”

He thought for a minute she was going to cry.

She cleared her throat. “Well, if I find it, I’ll let you know.”

“Is there anything wrong?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m just . . . tired. Going to the cemetery today made me tired.”

“Me, too. All those emotions, I think. They wear you out.” He touched her arm. “How are you doing? Did the cemetery upset you?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No, it’s not that. I guess I was just feeling sad for all the people she left behind. I sometimes think we have the rougher part of it. Same with Jude. His mother and sister don’t seem to be able to move on. I don’t think he would have wanted that any more than Mama would have.”

He was silent for a long moment, wondering where he had been when his little girl had grown up. “We don’t understand the circumstances, Jewel. It can be harder for some people. I think it just takes time—sometimes a lot of it.”

She fiddled with her fingers for a moment, then came to join him on the edge of the bed. “Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He could tell how uncomfortable she was and he wanted to make it easier for her. “Is it about the swim lessons?”

Her eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Yeah—by accident. Caroline didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I saw you one day and sort of figured it out. But what I can’t figure out is why you didn’t tell me.”

She looked down at her hands. “Oh, no reason.” She still didn’t look at him.

He poked her in the arm. “Yeah, there is. And you can tell me. I promise I won’t be mad or hurt.”

She sighed and finally met his eyes. “It’s just something I wanted to do on my own. I didn’t . . . I didn’t want you to interfere. Or embarrass me. I still haven’t gotten over the time you jumped in the pool with me at the Y and yelled at my coach.”

“I wish you’d stop reminding me and forget it.”

“Like I could.” She rolled her eyes. “I still have nightmares.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I was just so afraid for you. You were so scared of the water, and your coach needed to know that he couldn’t leave you in the deep end by yourself.”

“I’m over it now. Really. I mean, it’s still not my favorite place to be, but Caroline’s really helped me a lot. She went swimming herself this week, you know.”

That surprised him. “She did? Did anybody push her?”

Laughing, she elbowed him. “No. She did it all on her own.” Her face was serious again. “But it was the oddest thing. Before she jumped in I heard her say, ‘Forgive me, Jude.’ It was like she didn’t think her brother wanted her to be swimming, but she was going to do it anyway. It didn’t make any sense.”