Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (7 page)

I picked up William McCleery’s
Wolf Story
. “I’ve never met anyone else who read this. I loved it when I was a kid. My mom read it to me so many times.”

“Mom read it to me, too. She loves books. She used to be the kindergarten story lady at the school across the street. She did it the year I was in kindergarten but stopped after that.”

“Why did she stop?” I asked.

“Because she was sick,” Fiona answered sadly.

What might that have been like? To grow up with a mother who was so sick? To have the specter of death always lurking in the background?

It was hard enough to walk into that situation for me as an adult, but for a little girl?

I reached out and patted Fiona’s shoulder. What I really wanted to do was hug her and tell her everything would be all right, but I wasn’t sure that was true.

“Dinner,” Ned called from downstairs.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Fiona. I didn’t know what else to say to this girl who was my sister and yet also a stranger. I gave her shoulder another squeeze for good measure before she led me to the dining room.

Ned was putting serving plates on the table, and Piper was sitting next to Logan, listening to whatever he was saying, and smiling. But her smile seemed thin, like a veneer. As if she were physically forcing her lips into that upturned position. She was wearing a purple scarf over her head and looked even paler than she had that afternoon.

“Piper, are you okay?” I asked.

She turned that smile on me, and it was even more apparent that she was forcing it. “I’m fine. I’m just so glad you’re here and that Logan’s home.”

“I was telling her about our introduction,” Logan said in a chipper—too chipper—voice. “And assuring Ms. Pip that you are a much more preferable roommate than the last batch. One we called Pen. Short for Pigpen, which is exactly what he smelled like.”

“Ew,” Fiona said as she dropped into a chair across from Logan.

Piper patted the vacant chair next to her, and I obligingly sat down as well.

Logan didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, ew. I got a shower maybe once a week, but I washed. Water was scarce and hot water unheard of, but you could still wash. Pen claimed he couldn’t stand the cold water. He also claimed he didn’t smell. He was wrong. One day it had to have been over a hundred with ninety percent humidity. The smell got so bad that we moved his bed into the yard while he slept—on it.”

“Nuh-uh,” Fiona said.

“Honest to Pete.” Logan held up his fingers in a scouting sign. “We moved his mosquito netting, too, so it was all good. The house smelled so much better.”

“How big a house was it?” Fiona asked.

“A bedroom-size house. There was enough room for two sets of bunk beds and Pen’s single bed. There wasn’t room for much else. We kept our clothes in the suitcases, which we stored under the bottom bunk.”

Fiona and Logan saved the early part of the dinner. Every time his story wound down, the conversation ground to a halt until Fiona asked him another question and he wound back up again.

He was a natural storyteller. Some might think that it was the fact he’d traveled all over the world that gave him fodder for his tales, but as I listened, I would have to disagree. He had a way with words. He painted pictures out of his memories. Pictures that were so vivid it was easy to imagine being there.

Piper did more pushing of the pasta than eating it. I noticed her hand was trembling. I wasn’t sure if it was me or her illness.

I reached over and patted her hand without thinking. She turned to me and smiled. She didn’t turn her hand over and demand more from me. She simply accepted the comfort I was trying to give.

As Logan finished a story about his last trip, Piper asked me, “Have you traveled?”

“My parents were teachers. We went on vacations in the summer but not to Africa or South America like Logan. We went to national parks and historic cities. One year we rented a place on Prince Edward Island for a couple of weeks because I’d read L. M. Montgomery’s books and wanted to see it.”

“I’ve read all the
Anne
books,” Fiona cried. “I figure with our hair, she’s a
kindred spirit
for sure.”

I nodded. “I think that’s why I loved her so much. That was such a special vacation. I loved being on the beaches there. I imagined walking along with Diana and Gilbert. I recited poems as I walked along the water’s edge.”

“
The Lady of Shalott
,” Piper and Fiona said together.

The three of us laughed while Ned and Logan looked confused.

“We’ll have to take you to the peninsula while you’re here,” Piper said.

I didn’t want to hurt her by talking about my parents, so I admitted I’d visit the peninsula but tried not to mention Mom and Dad. “I came here one year—to Erie. We rented a place at the mouth of the peninsula. I took pontoon boats through the lagoons and spent the days hiking and swimming.”

“You were in Erie?” Piper asked shakily.

“Yes. And when I found out you were here, I . . .” I shrugged. I didn’t know how to explain just how I felt. “We’ve always lived so close. Both of us on Lake Erie.”

She smiled. “I find the thought comforting.”

I patted her hand again, and she smiled. It looked more natural than her forced one. She had the kind of smile that looked as if it were her default expression—at least before she’d become so sick.

“I had Ned bring down your hope chest,” she said. “It’s in the living room. I’m sure Logan will carry it next door for you. I wrote you a notebook, or journal if you’d rather. And there are other things. Gifts I bought you. Some old family photos. I bought you a notebook, much like the one I wrote in for so many years. I thought that this experience—meeting me—might be hard on you, and I’ve always found writing a way of coping with my pain. The chest—” Her sentence ended abruptly as she jumped up and rushed out of the room.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to help her,” Ned said, racing after her.

“Food makes her sick,” Fiona said. “Dad had to fight to help cook the spaghetti. I told her she didn’t need to have a dinner for you. I told her that you’d understand, but Mom can be stubborn. She said that she’d fed hundreds and hundreds of kids in your name, the least she could do is have dinner with you, even if she wasn’t up to cooking it.”

I’m not sure why, but the thought of her having a dinner for me when food made her nauseous hit me. I could feel tears creeping to the edge of my eyes, but I blinked them back. “I should go.”

“She’s probably done for the night,” Fiona said, sounding much older than nine. “But you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m in town for a while.”

“Don’t you have to work?” Fiona asked.

I shook my head. “I work for myself. I can work anywhere there’s an Internet connection.”

“Just like Mom. She works from home, too,” Fiona said.

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I didn’t need to say anything. Fiona seemed capable of carrying on an entire conversation on her own. “I’ll tell Mom to call you when she’s ready for company. She’ll want to see you as soon as she’s able.”

“Tell her that I’m not going anywhere.”

“I will.” Fiona hugged me. “I’ve waited for you my whole life.”

I patted her back. I knew I was coming to meet Piper, and I’d been prepared for Ned, but Fiona had been a complete surprise.

She led us to the living room. “That’s for you,” she said, pointing at an obviously old wooden box. It had once been blue, but the paint was worn and faded, as were the red flowers that had been hand-painted on the front.

“It’s been upstairs under Mom’s bedroom window my whole life,” Fiona said. “I always called Amanda’s box. For years, she added a charm on your bracelet, and she’s bought you some other little things, but it’s the notebook that you’ll want. I’ve never read it because it was for you. Just Mom and Dad have.”

I started to reach for it, but Logan said, “Let me carry it for you,” and he picked it up without waiting for me to respond.

I wanted to say no. I didn’t want someone else touching this gift. But I nodded at him and turned to Fiona. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell your mom and dad thank you for dinner.”

“
Our
mom,” she corrected. “And I will.”

I didn’t know how to explain to a nine-year-old that while I knew that Piper had given birth to me and I felt a connection, she could never be my mom. My mom had been Margaret Ahearn and my father was Patrick Ahearn. I would always be Pat and Maggie’s daughter. I couldn’t sort it all out, so I didn’t respond. I just followed Logan across the driveway and back to Ned’s old house.

I unlocked the door for him and followed him as he carried the box into the living room. “She’s really sick.”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“If I’m not a match . . .”

“Then someone else will be,” he said with far more assurance than I felt. “Ms. Pip’s strong. She’s fought her cancer for years because of Ned and Fiona. Now she’s got you to fight for, too.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. I walked to where he’d set the box down. I leaned over and touched it.

There were bare spots where the paint had given up completely, and in other places the blue had faded to almost gray. Small red flowers graced the front face of it. Time had changed them into a dusty rose, but it was easy enough to make out what they were.

The top, however, was more difficult. Decades of people putting things on top of the chest had hastened its aging. I could barely make out the letters T. P. E. and the numbers 1837 on the lid.

T. P. E.

I was no antique expert, but most of these boxes were for a woman’s trousseau. T. P. E. would pack the chest with items she hoped she’d use in the marriage she dreamed about.

What had Piper put in mine? Were the items part of her hopes and dreams for me?

Logan cleared his throat, reminding me he was still there. “Do you want me to leave while you open it, or would you rather I carry it upstairs?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can open it tonight.”

“You don’t have to,” he said softly.

“It’s only been a day. I thought I’d meet her and suddenly know just what to do about all this. How to feel about it all. Her being my birth mother and dedicating all those books to me, and now this.” I pointed to the chest. “And her being sick and knowing how much Ned loves her.”

Ned hadn’t said much at dinner, but I could see his love for Piper every time he looked at her. “And a sister. I didn’t expect that. I just don’t know what to do, what to feel. I—”

“You don’t have to sort it all out tonight,” Logan said. “Listen, why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“I need to call my dad first.”

“I’ll head up and leave you to it then. If you need anything, you know where my room’s at.” Logan said the words with a wicked grin and a quirking of his eyebrow.

Despite feeling utterly overwhelmed, I laughed, which I knew had been his intent.

“I’ve got to go to work a twelve-hour shift tomorrow. Seven at night to seven in the morning. I’ll be around during the day if you need me. Afterward, make yourself at home. I didn’t get to the grocery store, but you’re welcome to whatever you find in the kitchen. Ms. Pip and Ned always stock the pantry before someone moves in.” He turned and started up the stairs.

“Logan,” I called, stopping him in his tracks. “Thank you for taking me in and for coming to dinner and—just thanks.”

“Anytime.”

He left, and I slumped on the floor next to the hope chest, my back against the chair. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and hit Dad’s picture. It didn’t ring on my end before he answered.

“I wasn’t sure you’d call tonight,” he said by way of a salutation.

I traced the faint letters on the box with my finger. “It’s been a very long day.”

“How’d it go?” he asked.

That’s all it took. I told him about the drive, about Logan and then meeting Pip, Ned, and Fiona. I told him about Ned finding me all those years ago and coming to my graduation. I told him there was a video and Fiona had watched it on my birthday every year. About her quoting my speech. And dinner.

“Piper had dinner with me, Dad. Even though food makes her nauseous. Fiona told me Piper said she’d fed hundreds of kids in my name, so she was determined to feed me. That’s what she did, Dad. She gave me to you and Mom, and ever since she’s worked in my name. Amanda’s Pantry. Fiona wasn’t exaggerating. She did it for me. And all the books, they’re dedicated to me. I feel . . .”

When I didn’t say anything, Dad filled in, “Overwhelmed?”

“Yes. And humble. And maybe selfish.”

“Selfish? How so?” he asked.

“I could have come sooner. Piper waited for me. And I could have come. I planned to find her, but life got in the way. I never felt like I was missing anything. I had you and mom. I was complete. But she was missing me.”

“Siobhan, you’re there now. You’re being tested to see if you can help her. That’s not selfish, sweetie. And I’ve always believed that things happen in their own time. You can’t rush them. You simply have to take where you are and be content.”

“Thus speaks the philosophy professor,” I teased. Then seriously, I added, “I love you, Dad. No matter what, I need you. You do know that?”

“Honey, I do. I am not threatened by Piper. And if your mom were here, she wouldn’t be, either. We had a discussion like this before, you know.”

“I know. You said you and Mom would support me looking for Piper.”

“No, not then. After we lost your mom and I introduced you to Margo. I was so afraid that you’d think I was replacing your mom. I could never do that. And loving Margo doesn’t mean I loved your mom any less. You and Piper? It’s sort of the same thing, and I understand that. When I told you about Margo, I said—”

“You said, that your heart was big enough to love someone else without displacing anyone,” I quoted. I remembered that conversation and how nervous he had been.

“Hearts are elastic,” he said. “I’m not sure the great philosophers would put it like that, but I think it’s apt.”

I needed this moment of talking to my dad. I still didn’t know how I was feeling, but the swirling emotions had at least slowed down. “Thanks, Dad.”