Our Fragile Hearts Page 6

  I smiled, removing the crust from the slice of bread. I’d learned early on that Piper hated crust. I do, too. It’s about the only thing we have in common. It’s not much, but at least it’s something.

  I watched Piper devour her spaghetti. “I bought you a special dessert. Do you want to eat it now or later?”

  Piper’s eyes widened and she fidgeted in her seat. “Now.”

  I ducked into the kitchen to prepare my surprise. I’d bought some chocolate pudding cups and a can of whipped topping. I tore off the lid and scooped the pudding into a bowl. I know how much Piper likes whipped topping and I could add more if the pudding were in a bowl. When I carried the dessert out to Piper, her mouth dropped open. Just seeing her reaction made me feel like I’d won a million bucks. Funny that something so little can mean so much.

  There wasn’t a lot that made me feel good these days, so when something did, I wanted to bottle that feeling for times when I needed it most. A swig or two could make my sadness clear temporarily, enough for the sun to shine through. Somehow I needed to clear the fog and find the sun again. Permanently. I just wasn’t sure how.

  Chapter 8

  Mary

  I dropped the paperwork off at the hospital the next day. “How long do you think it will take to hear back?”

  The nurse looked at the paper and then at me. “Are you the Mary McAlaster?”

  I furrowed my brows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Are you the founder of the McAlaster Foundation?”

  I smiled. “Yes. Are you familiar with our work?”

  The young girl’s brows jumped to the top of her forehead. “Am I ever! If it hadn’t been for your generous scholarship I’m not sure I’d be standing here today. Your scholarship helped pay for my nursing school. I’m so grateful.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad the foundation was able to help.”

  The nurse held out her hand. “I’m Stacey. It’s so nice to meet you in person. Wait right here.”

  Stacey returned with another woman. I looked at her name tag. It said Laura.

  “This is Mary McAlaster,” Stacey said. “She’s head of the McAlaster Foundation.”

  “Oh, one of our biggest supporters,” Laura said. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Mary wants to volunteer in NICU cuddling the babies.”

  Laura smiled. “I think we can make that happen right away.”

  My hand flew to my heart. “Really? I’d love that.”

  “Would you like to get started now?” Laura asked.

  I didn’t have anything important I had to do so when Laura offered me the chance to snuggle some little ones, I wasn’t about to say no.

  And that’s how I found myself in the NICU. A huge lump formed in my throat seeing all of the babies whose lives were on the line. They were so tiny. It was probably the only place in the hospital where patients were weighed in grams instead of pounds. I couldn’t imagine what it was like being a nurse or parent caring for one of these precious little ones. No doubt it was a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, good days and bad days. And I was about to join this team. Was I ready emotionally to help care for a child in a place where the margin of error was so incredibly small? I wondered. And yet, thinking about helping the nurses and parents made me feel needed. And I loved feeling needed.

  Laura walked me over to an isolette. The baby, a little more than two pounds, lay inside the small bed that was enclosed by clear, hard plastic.

  “We monitor the temperature very closely,” Laura explained, “because premature infants often have trouble maintaining their body temperature.” She pointed to the holes in the side. “The holes allow access to the infant so we can examine them and parents can touch their babies.”

  “He’s so tiny,” I said. “How premature was he?”

  “About twenty-four weeks,” Laura said.

  “Twenty-four weeks? I had no idea a baby born that young could survive.”

  “You’d be surprised by the impact technology and medical advancements have had on survival rates of children born so young.”

  I looked at the small feeding tube in the baby’s stomach. “What do you feed him?”

  “In this case, breast milk that his mother pumps,” Laura explained.

  I scanned the room full of isolettes. All of the babies had IVs and lines and tiny blood pressure cuffs and many of them were on ventilators to help them breathe.

  Laura pointed to the monitor. “Each infant is attached to a monitor so we can glance at it and see their vital signs.”

  “All of these machines and tubes and lines. It’s a bit overwhelming,” I said.

  “Yes, it can be. But we found that cuddling makes a difference. The baby’s blood oxygenation rises, which means the baby is relaxed and breathing deeper. And it helps to promote more stable body temperature and leads to stronger vital signs.”

  “And the parents don’t mind if strangers help?”

  “The parents love it,” Laura said. “Many can’t be here as often as they’d like. Knowing that someone is cuddling their child when they’re unable to gives them peace. Many feel guilty that they can’t be here and the volunteer program lessens their guilt. Would you like to hold Jax?”

  I could feel my heart rate speed up. “What if I do something wrong?”

  “You won’t,” Laura said. “I’ll be right beside you.”

  “And his parents are okay with a stranger holding him?”

  “Yes. Parents have to consent to their babies being part of the cuddling program.”

  And that’s how I ended up holding Jax, a precious little boy with the tiniest toes and hands and head I’d ever seen. I sat on a leather chair in the corner and he wrapped his straw fingers around mine. I sang him a lullaby and talked to him softly. And right then I knew I’d have to do more for these kids. I just had to figure out what.

  Chapter 9

  Rachel

  Sometimes Piper described Mom and it was like she was describing a stranger. She was. The mom I knew was not the same one Piper knew. I’ll never understand how two completely different personalities, one good and the other evil, could be stuffed so completely inside a person. I always feared that some of her evilness was in me, too. It’s one reason why I never want to have kids.

  Piper walked into the kitchen just as I finished loading the dishwasher. After dinner, I’d sent her to get a bath. She held up a sparkly pink purse. “I found my nail polish, but I don’t think it’s any good.”

  I dried my hands. “Here, let me see.”

  Piper sat down on a kitchen chair while I examined the three small bottles of nail polish stuffed inside her pink purse along with a dozen plastic barrettes. “I think you’re right. I’ll get mine.”

  While I ran to get my nail polish Claire called to chat. “Can I call you back after I put Piper to bed? I’m painting her nails right now.”

  Claire made some kind of comment about sisterly love and hung up. When I walked into the room, Piper was still sitting on the chair – biting her nails!

  “Stop it.” I held up two nail polishes. “Which do you like better? Apple red or perfect pink?”

  “Pink.”

  I shook the pink polish and sat down across from Piper. “Now hold still so I don’t get the polish all over your fingers.” I started painting her tiny nails. She had them chewed down to nubs. “Now, when I’m done, don’t go messing up your pretty hands by chewing your nails. I know someone who chewed her nails and she got a bad infection. She was a customer. Her name was Teresa. And she showed her finger to me. It was a nasty infection.”

  Piper scrunched her freckled nose. “What’s an infection?”

  Sometimes I had to remind myself that Piper was only five. “It’s when you bite your fingernails down to the nubs and they get very sore. Remember when you fell on the sidewalk the other week?”

  Piper nodded.

  “You skinned your knee and we came home and I cleaned out the wound and applied some cream
so it wouldn’t become infected. Infections hurt.”

  Piper scrunched her little nose. “Yuck!”

  “Then you need to stop chewing your nails. Teresa painted her nails with a clear polish that tasted horrible. Every time she’d go to chew on her nails she’d taste the nasty polish. It took a long time, but eventually she stopped biting them. It’s better if you can stop without the icky polish.”

  Piper watched as I finished painting her nails. “Will you do my toes, too?”

  I picked up her right foot and started applying polish, finishing one foot and then the other. “Now, just sit here for a bit to let them dry.”

  “And then you’ll read to me, right?”

  I nodded. I read to Piper every night. It was something she said Mom did and I thought it was a good way for us to bond. But I got tired of reading the same book over and over. “Can we read something other than Cinderella tonight?”

  From the contorted look on Piper’s face you’d have thought I’d asked her to taste Teresa’s icky nail polish or eat vegetables. She hates vegetables and I was forever trying to sneak them into dishes without her realizing it. Like meatloaf.

  “Okay, Sleeping Beauty,” she said.

  She loved all the Disney princesses and I knew she’d go down the line, suggesting one princess book after another if I asked her to pick something else. “Okay, I’ll read Cinderella. But tomorrow night I pick the book. Deal?”

  She nodded. “Deal.”

  After Piper’s nails dried, we went into the living room and sat on the threadbare sofa. I remember sitting on the brown plaid sofa when I was Piper’s age, and it was tattered then. I reached over and turned on the lamp and opened the book. Piper inched as close to me as she could, leaning her head on my shoulder. She reminded me of a puppy I once had. Max liked to snuggle and he always had to be smack up against me while I watched television or read in bed. He was my shadow, following me everywhere. But then Mom got really bad and I was placed in foster care. When I eventually came home, Max was gone.

  “I want to be Cinderella,” Piper said. “And you can still be my sister but you can’t be mean.”

  I smiled. “I’m never mean.”

  “But you get mad sometimes, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And sometimes you say shit.”

  “Piper.” I sat up on the sofa so I was facing her. “You know that’s a bad word and I don’t want to hear you say it again.”

  “But you say it.”

  I shook my finger at her. “I shouldn’t say it, either.”

  “So you’re bad?”

  “Yes, I’m bad. I should know better. But just because I do something or someone else does something doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to do the same thing. You know the rules.”

  Ugh, raising a child was a tough job.

  When I tucked Piper into bed that night, she said her usual prayers but she added something at the end. Dear God, I want a puppy. Rachel says we don’t have enough money. Maybe there’s a magic puppy that doesn’t cost anything. Amen.

  I felt tears pool in my eyes and I bit my lip to keep from crying. I reached for Piper’s baby doll behind me and tucked her in bed next to Piper. “Sweet dreams, Piper. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Piper yawned and rolled onto her side, clutching her doll. I pulled up the blanket, covering her shoulder, and left her room feeling like the meanest sister in the world.

  The next day, I felt like Cinderella going to the ball when I pulled up to Mary’s house. Like the first day I was here, I broke out in goosebumps. I wondered if Mary would let me clean today. I hoped so. I know that most people hate to clean, but it helps me to dust the cobwebs out of my brain. I can think when I clean and work through my problems. I see things more clearly. And for some reason keeping busy calms me. Whenever my life took a wrong turn, I’d clean. I guess being able to make things shiny and bright gave me a sense of control, like I really could make things better or right.

  Mary met me at the door with a wide smile. “How about some tea before you start cleaning?”

  “I’d love to.” I followed Mary into the parlor and sat down beside her. “That’s a different tea set than the one you used the other day.”

  Mary smiled. “Yes. I collect them. This one is a nineteenth-century Austrian Bohemian porcelain by Giesshuebl. Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful. I love the floral design. And the colors are so pretty.” I saw rose, blue, white and purple.

  Mary poured us each a cup of tea and, just like the other day, I picked up the tiny sugar tongs and dropped a cube into my cup.

  “So tell me about Piper and Jacy.”

  I shifted so I was turned toward Mary instead of straight ahead. “They ate together and hung together on the playground at recess. Jacy impressed Piper. She can read an entire book, cross the monkey bars without falling and has a dog. A poodle. Guess what its name is?”

  Mary mashed her lips together and squinted, as if the actions helped her think. “Oh, I don’t know. Snoopy?”

  “That’s a good dog name, but no. Winnie the Poodle.”

  We both laughed.

  “I take it Piper likes dogs?”

  I nodded. “Loves them. She wants one but I told her we can’t afford it. Not now. Maybe someday.”

  Mary nibbled the pastry in her hand and listened as I listed all of the reasons I wasn’t getting Piper a dog. Too expensive. We live in an apartment and there’s not much room. Dogs bark and make lots of noise. We’re not home during the day.

  Mary set down her teacup. “I had a dog growing up. She was my best friend.”

  “What kind?”

  “A poodle. She was white and I named her Snowball. My, how I loved that dog. What type of dog does Piper want?”

  “A Yorkie-Poo,” I said. “Piper saw a picture of one in a magazine at the doctor’s office and asked if she could tear out the page. She taped it to her bedroom wall.”

  “They’re darling,” Mary said. “And they don’t get very big.”

  We talked some more and finally, when we emptied the teapot and finished the pastries, Mary asked me if I was ready to clean.

  “Absolutely. What do you want me to tackle first?”

  “You can start with my bedroom. I noticed dust on the dresser.”

  I grabbed the cleaning supplies from the cabinet in which Mary stored them and headed up the stairs. Finally, I was going to do what I came here to do. Having tea with Mary was lovely and all, but that’s not what she was paying for. She was paying me to clean and I wanted to show her I could do a good job.

  Mary’s bedroom reminded me of a chic luxury hotel room with its earth-tone colors and clean lines. Decorative molding accented large expanses of wall space and pillows of every size were heaped on the bed. It was a far cry from my room, which contained an eclectic collection of flea market finds.

  I dusted the antique cherry dresser, carefully removing the items and setting them on the floor. A silver antique jewelry box. A tray filled with several glass perfume decanters. An antique comb and brush set. I picked up a tiny blue floral china jewelry dish. It slipped from my hands but I caught it before it hit the floor. Any time I dropped a plate my heart went into overdrive. It was a reaction born out of an incident that happened when I was very young. I dropped a plate on the kitchen floor and mother was furious with me. It was her favorite plate and it slipped out of my hands. I once broke a plate at Miss Evelyn’s, too, only she didn’t react like Mom did.

  I remembered cowering in the corner and putting up my arms to shield my face. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t mean it. Please!”

  Miss Evelyn’s hand flew to her heart. She knelt down and took my hands away from my face. “Rachel, I’m not going to hit you. It was an accident. It’s okay. It’s just a plate.”

  “You’re not going to hit me?”

  “No, of course not. It was just an accident. I’ve broken many plates. It happens. Don’t worry. Now, why don’t you go play and I’ll tak
e care of this.”

  I remembered walking away and thinking that Mom had broken a lot of plates, too. But somehow that didn’t seem to matter. She’d hit me anyway.

  Chapter 10

  Mary

  “My, everything looks so clean,” I said.

  Rachel jumped. I guess she hadn’t heard me come up the stairs.

  “Oh, my. I didn’t mean to startle you. I came to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me.”

  “Oh, Mary. You’ve done so much already.”

  I waved. “Nonsense. I have to make something for myself and making enough for two is no trouble at all.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I figured we’d eat in the dining room. I haven’t used it in a long time and it’s always been one of my favorite rooms.”

  We walked into the room and Rachel turned around in a circle. “I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

  I smiled. “Yes, I always loved the wooden panels and crystal chandelier hanging over the double pedestal mahogany table. I bought that table and the matching buffet and hutch after James and I got married.”

  “Seems like an awful big house for two people,” Rachel said.

  I nodded. I considered whether to tell Rachel about James and why we never had any children. In a way, I thought that if she knew what happened to me maybe she wouldn’t feel so all alone, like she was the only one who had bad stuff in life to deal with. But it didn’t seem like the right time to divulge a family secret that I’d spent years keeping. So instead, I told her about my visit to the NICU as we ate the salad I’d prepared.

  “And Jax’s head was no bigger than a naval orange. He was the most darling little thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Wow,” Rachel said. “Twenty-four weeks is really early. Weren’t you scared?”

  I jabbed my fork into my salad, a mix of spring greens tossed with fresh strawberries, sliced almonds and creamy goat cheese with a light vinaigrette dressing. “Yes. I was very nervous. But the nurse showed me what to do and I just sat there for the longest time holding him in my arms.”

  “Sounds like you would’ve made a wonderful mother,” Rachel said. “You never had any children, right?”