Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (16 page)

I didn’t expect her to have an answer for me. So I wasn’t surprised when she said, “I’m not sure.”

“I don’t know her. My mother. My birth mother. And he said—her husband—he said that they’d been waiting for me. I believed him, but I thought it was waiting like waiting for your vacation or even like a kid who’s waiting for Christmas. I thought she was looking forward to meeting me someday. But that’s not it. She wrote this—” I held out Piper’s journal. “And when I read it, I can feel her
aching
. That’s the word. She was
aching
with the waiting.”

As I clutched the locket, I was aware of the bracelet slipping toward my elbow. “I occasionally thought about finding her, you know. But I put it off. I knew I’d look for her someday, but life got in the way. And she was out here waiting for me. Aching.”

The woman nodded, as if she understood my word vomit. She confessed, “I thought earlier that maybe the word
waiting
comes from the word
weight
. I thought I’d be crushed under the weight of my waiting.”

I nodded and pushed at my hair, which seemed to have a mind of its own tonight. “Yes. I can feel her aching under the weight of it on every page. Now the tables are turned and I’m the one who’s waiting, aching under the weight of it all.”

“This is not a normal conversation for two strangers.” She offered me a rueful smile. “I think that everyone here who’s waiting has a common bond. It means none of us are strangers, even if we’ve never met before. I’m Addie.”

“I’m Siobhan. Who are you waiting for?” I asked her gently.

She hesitated a split second before saying, “My husband. He had heart surgery today. They kicked me out of ICU and told me to go home for the night, but I can’t.”

“My . . . I don’t know what to call her. Mother isn’t right. I had a mother who loved me and raised me. A mother I adored. But birth mother seems too formal. Everyone else calls her Piper or Pip, but she’s more than that to me.” I kept circling back to what to call Piper. Of all the things that were going on in my life, I wasn’t sure that was the most important thing, and yet it was a point I kept coming back to.

“Maybe giving her a name doesn’t matter. It’s hard to watch someone you love suffering.”

“I’ve only just met her. How can I love her? How can I love any of them?” I asked.

“Sometimes love comes quickly, sometimes more slowly. Real love comes in its own time,” she said.

It reminded me of something Piper had written in
Jenny Jangle and the Frisco Kid
. “Love just is. You can fall in love after a minute or a week or a month or years. But once you love, there’s no taking it back, at least not if it’s a true love.”

Rereading her children’s books as an adult had shown me that Piper had hidden some beautiful gems in her fiction. Not just her way with words, but the sentiments behind them.

I nodded. “She always loved me. It’s on every page. Every single one of them. She built a life around me and loved me. Every day of my life, she loved me so much. How could I not have felt it? Even not knowing her, how can someone be loved that much and not be aware of it?”

Addie shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re right; it seems as if that kind of love should be palpable. And maybe if someone loves you that much, it’s hard not to love them in return.”

Suddenly Logan was in the door. “Siobhan?”

“Logan, is she okay?” I asked.

“She’s fine.”

I stood up, clutching Piper’s journal. I turned to Addie. “I hope your husband’s okay.”

She took my hand and squeezed it. “I hope
she
is as well.”

I noticed that she didn’t give Piper a name. I smiled my thanks as I followed Logan back into the hall. He looked as if he belonged here, with his scrubs and stethoscope wrapped around his neck. “They’re done with Ms. Pip and said you’re welcome to come back in.”

“They called you?” I asked.

“I stopped in to check on you,” he admitted.

I laughed. “Thanks,
Mom
.”

We both realized what I said, but neither of us mentioned it. Instead, Logan said, “Ban,
motherly
is not the word I’d use to describe how I feel about you.” And then, standing in a hospital hallway, he leaned down and kissed me. It was tender, but he was right, not the least bit motherly.

Neither of us mentioned the kiss or the talk we had about not pursuing anything more than friendship. Nor did I ask for a more specific description of his feelings. He walked me back to Piper’s room, where I scrubbed, gloved, and gowned back up before I let myself back into her room.

She was sleeping, which meant I had nothing to do but sit in the quiet room and think as I looked out the window at all the cars driving by. Snippets from my talk with Addie and from Pip’s books and journal wove their way through my thoughts.

You’re a constant in my life.

The weight of waiting.

A gift.

And as my fingers brushed my lips and I thought about Logan,
Love just is
.

As I watched the lights of cars pass outside the window, I mixed the words like a game of Magnetic Poetry.

Weight is waiting for a gift.

Love just is a constant.

I looked at Piper. She looked pale and gaunt. Her skin seemed to be stretched over bones, as if that’s all that was left of her, skin and bones.

Her breathing hitched.

I turned back to the window. It was easier. Easier than worrying what would happen next. Easier than wondering if she’d ever leave this hospital room. Easier than praying I was enough to cure her.

I plucked words from all my worries and made another Magnetic Poetry sentence in my head.

Easier than worrying.

Praying a cure.

I sensed Piper was awake before I turned.

“What were you thinking?” she asked.

“Do you remember those Magnetic Poetry games? So many thoughts keep whizzing past. I was grabbing words from all of them and rearranging them in my head like that.”

She nodded.

“I’m worried about you and wondering what happens next.” I didn’t say it, but I worried she’d never leave this hospital room.

“You worry too much,” she whispered.

“You’ve given me a lot to worry about.”

As if sensing what I was thinking, she said, “I could leave the hospital and get hit by a bus.”

“What?” I asked.

“You’ve got to stop worrying. I think we all have a choice. We can live worrying about what happens next. We can make all the plans we want, but eventually we have to admit we have no control. Once you realize that, it’s easier to live in the present. And my present is very good. You’re here with me. I choose to concentrate on that.”

“I loved your books when I was young. You seemed to understand the things I was feeling. And now that I’ve met you in person? Not only do you have empathy, you have a way with words. You’re able to put your feelings into words. You’re able to put
my
feelings into words.”

“I’m no Shakespeare, but I do love telling stories. But right now, I want to hear a story. So tell me another one until Ned comes back.”

I nodded. “When I was still in grade school, a neighbor lent me a copy of Zenna Henderson’s
The People
. Have you ever read it?”

Piper shook her head without opening her eyes.

“They were aliens who looked human but who had power. They were stranded here on Earth. Some of their people got lost. I wondered if I was one of them. For weeks I tried to move things with my mind or hear other people’s thoughts. I finally had to admit there was a very good possibility that I was human, not alien.” I laughed.

Piper didn’t. Tears leaked out from beneath her closed eyes.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you that to make you sad. I told you because meeting you was a relief. I mean, having magic mind powers might be cool, but I think being straight-up human, with all our foibles and intricacies, is even more wonderful. But best of all, knowing that I’m related to you is a treasure. I love your . . .” I tried to come up with the right words. “World view. I’m not sure if that’s exactly right, but I can see it in your books, in your journal, and even in our conversation tonight. I love how you see the world. You see the best in everyone. Logan told me what you did for him and his mom. You helped shape his life. Hers, too.”

“When I get out of here . . .”

“You will avoid busses at all cost,” I teased.

Piper laughed, which had been my intent. “Now if you lie back and close your eyes, I’ll tell you one more story before I go.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Piper sank back in the bed, and I tried to ignore how small she looked against the stark white sheets.

“When I was maybe ten, my neighbors and I built a tree house near a local creek. It probably has a real name, but to us it was just Salamander Creek because there—”

“There were so many salamanders?”

“I don’t know about so many. We only ever caught one. But we imagined there were more,” I assured her most solemnly.

She laughed again.

Maybe I couldn’t do much for her. But I could do this. I could give her stories from my youth and try to fill in all those missing years for her.

The next morning, I woke up curled against Logan. It was becoming a familiar start to my days. I lifted my head and studied him as he slept. The sound of his breathing wasn’t quite a snore, but it was louder than his waking breathing.

By all measures, I’d known him such a short time. A moment. But he didn’t feel like an acquaintance or even a new friend. I knew him more intimately than I’d ever known anyone, even Carey who I had been with for eight years. Maybe not all the biographical things, but I felt as if I knew
him
, the inner parts that made him so amazing.

How had I gotten so tangled up with Logan so quickly? Was it simply that circumstance had thrown us together or could it be something more?

“You are the loudest-thinking woman I’ve ever met,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Logan,” I started, but I couldn’t think of what else to say. I knew he was teasing and expected me to tease him in return. He was waiting for me to make some sassy or snarky response. But I couldn’t seem to find my usual casual quips.

When my silence went on too long, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at me. I saw as understanding filled them. Without a word, he pulled me into his arms. This was no friendly or comforting embrace. It was simply
more
.

And I didn’t just want
more
, I needed it.

Neither of us spoke as my familiarity with Logan moved to a new, unexplored intimacy. He was gentle, probably worried about my surgery.

And the feelings for Logan that had been changing became even more.

“I hate it when Auggie calls me Julie. I keep telling him that everyone calls me Jules, but he doesn’t listen.”

Her grandma nodded. “Julie is your name.”

“I know, but I didn’t pick it. Your daughter did. Jules is the name I picked.”

“See if you can pick out this knot.” Her grandmother handed her a horrible mess of yarn. After a few minutes of fuming and picking, Jules admitted defeat. “It’s totally tangled.”

“It happens,” her grandmother said. “Strings, like thoughts and feelings, can get tangled without us even being aware it’s happening. And before you know it, they’re in a knot that can’t be undone.”

“We’re talking about Auggie now, not the yarn, right?” Jules asked.

Her grandmother’s laughter was her only response.

—
Julie and Auggie
, by Pip

I held Piper’s book.

I knew that Piper’s friend Cooper was really named Julie. I imagined she went by Cooper for very much the same reason as Julie in the book went by Jules. I wondered how many little tidbits from Piper’s real life were buried in the pages of her fiction like Easter Eggs in movies—those little hidden tidbits that directors buried in so many films.

I ran my fingers over the cover. I’d picked up this book to reread one particular section. I flipped to the page I’d dog-eared.

“Strings, like thoughts and feelings, can get tangled without us even being aware it’s happening. And before you know it, they’re in a knot that can’t be undone.”

That’s how I felt. As if my feelings, like my thoughts, were a tangled mess.

I’d left my bed before Logan woke up, hoping to sort everything out before I saw him. We’d both talked about all the reasons why we shouldn’t move our relationship beyond the bounds of friendship. But I don’t think either of us had really tried to find reasons why we should.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, handing me a cup of coffee as he sat on the bench next to me.

“How did you find me?”

“Siobhan, you are not that complex,” he said with a grin. “It was an easy guess.”

I laughed and took a sip of my coffee.

“Should we talk about last night?” he asked.

“There’s not much to be said, is there? I was just thinking about one of Piper’s books,
Julie and Auggie
.” I handed him the copy.

“Here.” I pointed to the passage. “That describes everything about me right now. I’m a knotted ball of string. But there’s one small section that’s emerged from the tangle. You. I know you’ll be gone next summer, but, frankly, I’ll be gone even sooner. I’ve been in Erie longer than I ever intended, and I’m staying awhile yet, just to make sure Piper’s okay. But someday soon, I’ll go back to my old life. And I understand you have a life planned. But right now, we’re both here. I don’t regret last night. As a matter of fact, I plan to repeat it, if you’re willing. No strings for either of us.”

He slid closer, his thigh pressed against mine, and smiled. “I’ve become accustomed to waking up with you in my arms.”

“That’s good because I’ve become accustomed to your snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” he protested.

I was far more comfortable bantering with Logan than trying to delve deeper into what this new aspect of our friendship meant. I grabbed on to the snoring debate. “Not an all-out snore, but there’s definitely some very loud breathing going on. A couple more years down the pike, and it’ll be a full-blown snore.”