Our Fragile Hearts Page 7

  I thought about how I’d lied on the ob-gyn form for years, and I didn’t want to lie anymore.

  “Actually, Rachel, can I tell you a secret? Something only three people in my life knew, and now they’re all dead.”

  Rachel took a deep breath. “Sure. I mean, if you want to.”

  “Well, I feel like I can tell you and you won’t pass judgment. Besides, I’ve carried this old secret around for so long. Its roots are so deep and tangled inside of me that it would be good to uproot it.”

  I began telling Rachel about Teddy. “I never loved anyone as much as I loved him.”

  “Even your husband?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes. I never loved James and he never loved me. Ours was a marriage of convenience for both of us.”

  “So, why didn’t you marry Teddy?”

  “I wanted to, but my parents sent me away.”

  “Away?”

  I nodded. “I became pregnant with Teddy’s child. When my parents learned about the pregnancy, they sent me away to live in a maternity house. My father had arranged a private adoption. Teddy never knew about the baby and my father made me write a nasty Dear John letter to him. I was forced to say awful things in the letter that I didn’t mean.”

  “That’s terrible, Mary. So you never saw your baby and you never had any more?”

  “That’s correct. I learned James couldn’t father children, which was fine with me. He promised we could adopt, but that never happened.”

  “Why?” Rachel asked. “It’s obvious how much you loved children.”

  I debated whether to tell Rachel the reason why I’d dropped my desire to adopt but decided perhaps I’d already said enough. “That’s a story for another day. Are you ready for the second course?”

  Rachel loved the watermelon soup I’d prepared and by the time I served the tilapia both of us were full. “I guess I sort of overdid it,” I said.

  “I’ll at least try it,” Rachel said.

  I watched as Rachel took that first bite, waiting for her reaction.

  “I like it. It’s mild. Doesn’t taste fishy. I hate when fish taste fishy. Is it hard to make?”

  I shook my head. “It’s quite simple, actually. You just bathe the fillets in lemon juice and melted butter, season with garlic and parsley and bake.”

  Rachel took another bite. “I can’t eat anymore. But everything was delicious.”

  “Thank you. I enjoyed cooking. I’ll pack up the leftovers and you can take them home for you and Piper. Oh, and I also made a special dessert for Piper, something I saw in a magazine at the doctor’s office.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Rachel said. “But thank you. I’m sure Piper will be over the moon about the dessert. She seems to have a real sweet tooth.”

  I smiled. “Good. And I’ll also pack up the dessert I made for lunch since you’re too full to eat it now.”

  “Mary,” Rachel said. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you for the lunch, for being so kind. I’m not used to having someone care about me.”

  I reached over and touched Rachel’s hand. “You deserve to be cared for.”

  “But I’m here to work, to help you.”

  “And you are,” I said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t feed you.”

  “No, but it doesn’t mean you have to feed me, either. I don’t want you to think I expect it.”

  I sipped my water and then dabbed my lips with my cloth napkin. “Can I tell you something?”

  Rachel nodded.

  I sighed and made a sweeping motion with my arm. “I’ve had everything I’ve ever wanted. The best clothes. The best house. More money than I could ever spend. But the one thing I’ve wanted most has always eluded me. I can’t buy it, or trade for it, or even steal it. It’s a gift that has to be given, not something I can take. Do you understand?”

  Rachel looked like she was about to cry. “I think I’m beginning to.”

  Chapter 11

  Rachel

  Piper bounced off the bus and over to me. She held out her small hand and peeled back her thin fingers to reveal a pastel bead necklace.

  “That’s so pretty! Did you make it?”

  “No, Jacy did. And look!” Piper pointed to the six white beads with letters on them – P-i-p-p-e-r. “My name.”

  I smiled. “I see. That’s so special.”

  Piper wrapped her fingers over the necklace, forming a fist. “Except she spelled it wrong, but it’s still special, right?”

  “Of course. It’s special because she made it for you.”

  “And I didn’t tell her she spelled it wrong. I didn’t want to make her sad.”

  “That’s good, Piper. I’m sure Jacy worked hard on making that necklace for you.”

  Piper furrowed her brows. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  I forced a smile. “I just left Mary’s house. Remember I told you about Mary?”

  Piper nodded. “But why were you crying if you just left Mary’s house?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I feel badly for her because she’s alone in that big old house.”

  “We should visit her sometime. Can we? Can we?” Piper bobbed up and down. I smiled. “Actually, Mary invited us to dinner tomorrow. Would you like to go?”

  Piper nodded. “Does she have a dog?”

  I shook my head. “But she has lots of climbing trees in her backyard. And a big fountain in front of her house.”

  Piper’s eyes widened. “I’ve never climbed a tree before. Will you climb it with me?”

  Piper’s bobbing got faster and I didn’t want to crush her excitement. “I haven’t climbed a tree since I was probably your age, but I’ll try.”

  Piper ate a snack while I looked through the homework packet the teacher had sent home. I pulled out a read aloud chart and read the instructions.

  Please read at least one book to your child daily. Write the title on the lines. Return this list at the end of the month. Your child will receive a prize when he or she returns the chart. This is an important part of your child’s homework and participation will be noted on the report card. Thank you.

  That shouldn’t be a problem, I thought. We read every night anyway. And having to record the book titles will force Piper to choose a variety of books. I now had a great excuse for why we couldn’t read Cinderella every night.

  I pulled out a September calendar, which included a different activity for each day. The student was to complete five activities each week and the parent was to initial the block indicating it was completed. There were certain calendar activities that were mandatory. These included tasks like writing in a poetry journal and family projects.

  The calendars were to be returned by the first of each month. If the calendar wasn’t returned on the due date and if Piper didn’t complete the homework, I was the one who would be held accountable. Excuse me, but who’s the student here? I thought. What’s that teaching Piper? If she fails, I’m the one to blame? I don’t think so! How’s that teaching Piper personal responsibility for her actions?

  I gasped. Dear God, when did I start sounding like a parent? I was twenty-two, not forty-two. I was Piper’s sister, not her mom. I pulled out the first family project we were to complete. It was a schoolhouse and the student was supposed to cut it out and decorate, making sure to include either a drawing or photo of themselves. Have fun spending time with your child and be creative! I read. All family projects will be displayed for the month in the hallway outside our classroom.

  Geez! I didn’t remember having this much homework when I was in kindergarten. Good thing I didn’t have these “family projects” or I’d have flunked. Mom was my only family and there’s no way she’d have done homework with me.

  I set the schoolhouse handout aside and stuffed the other papers back into the manila envelope. “When you’re finished eating your snack, let’s do your homework and get it out of the way,” I told Piper.

  “Can I use my smelly crayons?”

  “Sure.” I had b
ought Piper scented crayons at the dollar store when we did our back-to-school shopping. “And maybe you can use the new stickers we bought.”

  Piper finished eating and went to find her crayons and stickers. She returned with a plastic bin filled with art supplies. I read the instructions out loud and Piper pulled her kid-size scissors out of the bin.

  “What do you think you should do? Cut the schoolhouse out first and then decorate it, or decorate it and then cut it out?”

  Piper held up her scissors.

  “Okay, go ahead and cut it out. I’m going to see if I can find some old newspapers or something to cover the table.” I looked at the container of silver glitter Piper had pulled out of the bin. “I have a feeling this project might get a little messy.”

  I couldn’t find any newspapers or drop clothes, so I cut apart a white kitchen trash bag and spread it on the table. I watched as Piper cut out the schoolhouse.

  “Maybe you want to draw yourself first before you start decorating your schoolhouse with stickers and glitter.”

  Piper drew a picture of herself. It consisted of a circle head and a stick body. She used a yellow marker to draw her blonde curly hair. She drew a second figure right next to her. This circle and stick body had black hair and a brown face.

  I pointed to the girl with the black hair. “Who’s that?”

  She grinned. “Jacy.”

  “And who’s the person in between you?”

  Piper grinned. “That’s not a person. That’s my puppy, Linda.”

  I could see Piper wasn’t going to give up on wanting a dog. “But you already have a doll named Linda.”

  Piper shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I want a puppy named Linda, too.”

  I scratched my head. “But won’t you get them confused?”

  Piper put her hands on her hips and huffed. “One has four feet and the other has two feet, Rachel, don’t you know?”

  I laughed. “Guess you do have a point, but dogs can’t go to school.”

  Piper nodded. “Yes, they can. Jacy asked if she could bring Winnie the Poodle in for show and tell and Mrs. Baker said yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” Piper’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Baker said Jacy’s parents could bring Winnie to school to visit and then take him home.”

  Piper picked up the packet of stickers and peeled off the blue stars, strategically placing them on the schoolhouse. She then squeezed droplets of glue onto the paper.

  “Be careful you don’t add too much,” I said. “You don’t need a lot of glue for the glitter to stick.”

  She picked up the glitter.

  “Just sprinkle it on the glue. Not a lot. Then we’ll let it dry.”

  Piper doused the glue dots with glitter. “Do you like it?”

  I nodded. “It’s very beautiful, Piper. You did a great job.”

  Piper smiled. “Can I make a picture to give to Mary?”

  “I’m sure she’d love that. Why don’t you work on it while I call Claire? I’ll be in my bedroom. Then we can read.”

  “And you’ll be in your bedroom, right?” Piper asked.

  “Yes. I promise I won’t leave the house.”

  Piper pulled out a piece of white construction paper and started her drawing while I grabbed by cellphone and headed to my bedroom.

  “Hi, Claire. Sorry I didn’t call you back last night. After I put Piper to bed I passed out I was so tired. I thought I’d call while she’s doing homework.”

  “Homework?” Claire said. “They have homework in kindergarten?”

  I explained the “family projects” and the read aloud chart to Claire.

  “Geez, I’m ninety-nine point nine percent certain I didn’t have homework in kindergarten.”

  I laughed. “Me, too. And I only went a half day. It wasn’t a whole day like it is now.”

  Claire yawned.

  “Am I that boring?” I kidded.

  “No. Sorry, Rach. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Why? What’s up? Your eyes are usually closed before your head hits the pillow.”

  “It’s Harry. I’m sure he’s seeing someone else.”

  “Harry? No way!”

  “He’s been acting strange lately.”

  “How so?”

  “Like leaving the house and not telling me where’s he’s going.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  “Yes. And he says he just needs to run some errands.”

  “Have you asked to go with him?”

  “Of course, but he says I’d be bored.”

  “Hmm. I have to admit that does sound suspicious. Still, it’s Harry we’re talking about. The guy has adored you since the moment he laid his eyes on you.”

  “I know. That’s what I keep telling myself. But still.”

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Maybe he’s planning some kind of surprise. Your birthday’s coming up.”

  “I thought of that, too. Enough about me. What about you?”

  I told Claire about Mary and how much I enjoyed being around her. “She reminds me so much of Miss Evelyn. She’s kind and gentle and loving. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  “Wow, she must be special if you’re comparing her to Miss Evelyn.”

  “She is. I guess that’s why I felt an immediate bond with her.”

  “Does she cook as well as Miss Evelyn?”

  I laughed. “Absolutely. Speaking of which, I made Piper eggs and bacon the other night and guess what I did?”

  Claire didn’t miss a beat. “Arranged the food on the plate to look like a smiley face.”

  We laughed.

  “And I can’t believe you still wear that smiley face pin.”

  “Well, how about our tattoos?”

  “True. We’ll always be two peas in a pod!”

  “I can still remember when Miss Evelyn found us sleeping in the same bed,” Claire said. “She said we were like two peas in a pod. And we asked her what that meant. Remember?”

  “Oh, I remember. And then one day she bought a pea pod and showed us. I can still see her opening that pod and removing those two little identical peas. ‘See, two peas in a pod,’ she said.”

  That night, after Miss Evelyn had gone to bed, Claire and I took markers and drew peas on each other.

  “What color do you want your peas?” I’d asked her.

  “Blue. No green. Peas are green.”

  So I drew two little circles on her arms.

  “How do you spell pod?” I asked.

  “P-a-a-d. But write that in blue.”

  So I wrote “2 pees in a paad” on Claire’s arm right under the two little green circles.

  She did the same to me but used a purple marker for the words.

  A few years ago, we decided to get real pea tattoos as a reminder of our sisterhood.

  I heard Piper call for me. “Piper’s done with her picture for Mary. Guess it’s time to read. I’ll talk to you later. And Claire, don’t worry about Harry. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. You guys are good together.”

  “Thanks. And Rachel, you’re doing an amazing job with Piper. I know it’s hard but think of the difference you’re making in her life. You’re her Miss Evelyn.”

  “Thanks, but I could never be a Miss Evelyn. I’m just not that good inside.”

  “Quit doubting yourself,” Claire said. “You’re better than you think.”

  Piper held up her drawing. It was three stick figures beside a tree and I wasn’t sure what the blue scribble was. “That’s beautiful, Piper. I’m sure Mary will like the picture.”

  Piper pointed to the stick figure that didn’t have any hair. I figured the two with the yellow hair were me and Piper. “What color is Mary’s hair?”

  “White.”

  Piper laid the drawing on the table and scribbled on some white hair.

  I pointed to the scribble on the left. “What’s that?”

  “Her water fountain. And that’s her climbing tre
e.”

  I smiled. “She’ll absolutely love it. Now, ready to read?”

  Piper went to get a book while I put the laundry into the dryer. When she returned she held up a book I hadn’t seen it ages. My hand flew to my heart. “Where did you get that?”

  “Mommy gave it to me.”

  My chin trembled. I could feel my entire body begin to shake. Piper handed me the book and I opened it to the title page and read the inscription: To Rachel, You will always be loved, just like The Little House.

  Below the inscription was a scribble I’d left on the page so many years ago and a smudge, which was probably peanut butter.

  The book, by Virginia Lee Burton, about a little house that enjoyed living in the country and eventually finds itself run down and neglected in a crowded city, was my favorite. I’d begged Mom to read it over and over. I hadn’t seen it in years.

  I remembered the Christmas I’d received it. I was around Piper’s age. It was before Mom’s drinking got bad, when I still felt loved and wanted. But just like the little house that got shabbier and shabbier, so did my life. Pretty soon I was surrounded by skyscrapers that blocked the sun and loud trains that drowned out sweet voices. I was ignored and alone, living in a place where no one noticed how run down I’d become.

  A tear slid down my cheek as I sat on the couch and Piper sat next to me. I started to read and memories of Mom reading me the book flashed before my eyes. I was dressed in a purple nightgown, curled up next to her on the very couch Piper and I sat on now.

  “But why, Mommy, did they let The Little House become so run down?” I had asked.

  “Because people stopped caring,” Mom had said. “No one noticed how run down the house had become.”

  By the time I finished the book, I couldn’t keep the tears at bay.

  Piper hugged me. “Does the book make you sad?”

  I managed a lopsided smile. “A tiny bit. But I’m glad The Little House was returned to the countryside where she belonged. Aren’t you?”

  Piper nodded. “I like happy endings.”

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter 12

  Mary

  I wondered if I had told Rachel too much. I didn’t want to scare her away by seeming like I was an old lady desperate for someone to confess my sins to or tell my secrets. Still, there was something about her that touched my heart. She had her whole life ahead of her. She had dreams and had given them all up to care for her little sister. It was a selfless act in an age when I found most young people cared more about themselves than others.