Pieces of the Heart (8 page)

Margaret approached the table and placed two well-manicured hands on the back of a chair. “Did you tell Caroline about Shelby’s memory quilt you’re making for Jewel?”

Rainy kissed the top of Jewel’s head before stepping away. “No, I didn’t. I was waiting until she’d been here for a while before showing it to her.”

Margaret’s brows creased. “Whatever for? It’s a beautiful quilt, Rainy. And Caroline loves quilting. Remember all those beautiful memory quilts she did back in high school? I’m sure she’d love to see Shelby’s.”

Caroline felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Shelby and Jude had been so close that any memory quilt of Shelby’s was bound to have a reference to Jude. Rainy was right: She definitely wasn’t ready. She looked at her mother with a flash of anger. How could it be that Rainy Martin knew exactly how Caroline would feel, yet her own mother hadn’t a clue?

Jewel stood and tugged on Caroline’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Seeing no way out, Caroline forced a smile and stood. “Thanks. I’d love to see it.”

She followed the young girl into what had once been the dining room in the old house and was now Rainy’s workroom, trying not to drag her feet.

Margaret paused in the doorway and turned back to Rainy. “Are you sure we’re not tiring you out? Maybe you should stay in the kitchen and sit down. Jewel can show us the quilt.”

“I am just fine, Margaret. Maybe you should stay behind and rest. You’re starting to show your age.”

“I am not! And just so you know, dressing like a twelve-year-old in baggy overalls does
not
make you look any younger.”

Caroline rolled her eyes and followed Jewel into the room.

Jewel stood in front of the large worktable in the middle of the room. The old dining room was her favorite, the dark oak paneling and fancy molding around the ceiling still decorating the room long after its final use as a family eating place. Sometimes, when she was alone in this room, she could see the Ryan family—a mother, father, grandmother, and two girls, seated at a large plank table holding hands with their heads bowed. The Ryans had left Hart’s Valley forty years before, but they’d left an impression on their house. Jewel wondered if maybe other people could see them, too, if only they’d open their minds wide enough.

She looked down at the bright scraps of fabrics that littered the table and the double row of squares that had already been stitched together. These first squares were made from her mother’s baby blankets and sleepers, the yellow and pink bunnies and floral patterns completely at odds with the memory of a mother who had favored bright geometric shapes of her own designs.

But, she supposed, that was what a memory quilt was for. It showed a life from the beginning to the end, mapping out the changes of a person in the course of a lifetime, the stitches tying the squares together like days tying together years.

Jewel looked up and saw that Caroline was standing apart, as if afraid to come closer. Her grandmother and Mrs. Collier had finished arguing and were picking up various scraps of fabric and talking excitedly to each other.

Mrs. Collier held up a light-blue-and-white-checked gingham dress. “Oh, I remember this! Was it kindergarten or first grade? For Halloween, Shelby was Dorothy, Caroline was the Wicked Witch, and Jude went as Scarecrow—remember?” She fingered the light cotton fabric in silence for a moment. “I’m surprised this isn’t worn out. Caroline wore hers every day for a month.”

Caroline looked at her mother. “Jude was in second grade, I was in third, and Shelby in fourth. And I was Glenda the Good Witch and Jude was the Lion. He wanted to be Scarecrow, but you had already made the lion costume. The kids made fun of him at school.”

Mrs. Collier put down the gingham dress, her face pinched like she was sucking on a sourball. “I don’t remember that.”

Caroline came closer to the table and lightly touched the pleated skirt of a cheerleading uniform. “You wouldn’t. Jude never told you because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“I never knew,” Mrs. Collier said softly as she laid her hand gently on the gingham fabric again.

Caroline looked as if she wanted to say something else and even lifted a hand as if to touch her mother, but quickly dropped it and with a jerk of her chin went back to examining the items on the table.

Jewel watched as the three women circled the table as if waltzing with memories. She felt a little zing in her head again as the tension in the room became almost touchable. If Caroline and her mother accidentally bumped into each other, Jewel figured there’d probably be lightning.

Caroline leaned closer to get a better look at a class photograph, the one that showed Jewel’s mom in fourth grade holding hands in a playground with a boy who came up to her shoulders. Suddenly Jewel realized who that boy was. A deep blue aura seemed to grow around Caroline and crept into Jewel’s head again, giving her blind spots on the edges of her vision.

Grandma Rainy put a hand on Caroline’s arm. “You made such beautiful memory quilts when you were in high school. I would love for you to help me and Jewel make Shelby’s.”

Caroline’s aura deepened almost to purple. If grief and old sadness had a color, it would be that one. Her dad had it sometimes, too.

Caroline backed away from the table, shaking her head. “I . . . can’t. I haven’t quilted in years. I wouldn’t even know how to begin.”

Jewel watched as her grandmother and Mrs. Collier exchanged glances, and the sharp, stabbing pains in her head nearly obliterated her sight. The door opened and she felt her dad walk into the room, and the tension in the room came crashing down on her head. Whatever was between Caroline and her mother was even worse when it came to Caroline and her dad.

Her father turned to Grandma Rainy. “I’ve put all the chairs in the back room. I’ll bring the table next time.” He glanced around at the solemn faces. “Everything okay in here?” He gave a pointed glance at Caroline. “Anybody throwing things?”

She felt her grandmother put an arm around her shoulders. “Everything’s fine. I’m going to get Jewel another cup of tea; then you can take her home.” She threw a look over her shoulder at Caroline. “And think about helping us out with the quilt. You really have a gift, and I could sure use the help.”

Jewel stared back at Caroline through the pain swallowing her head and saw a lost girl who seemed to be drowning on solid ground and didn’t know how to come up for air. She closed her eyes again and let her grandmother lead her from the room.

Caroline rapped on the neighbors’ door, hoping that Jewel was home. She’d seen Drew drive away in his truck but hadn’t seen anybody in the passenger seat. Knowing this might be her only chance, she’d fled from her house and run next door.

It took a few minutes for anyone to answer, and Caroline was halfway down the back steps before Jewel opened the door, a surprised look on her face.

“Sorry I took so long. I was . . . reading.”

Caroline tried hard to hide her surprise at how much Jewel resembled her mother, Shelby. It would take a while of being around her to get over the shock. But right now it was a little like seeing a ghost. She smiled. “That’s all right. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

Jewel shrugged. “It’ll still be there when I get back to it.” She looked at Caroline expectantly.

Caroline glanced back over her shoulder, making sure she didn’t see her mother marching across the yard toward her. “Um, can I come in? I have a favor to ask.”

“My dad’s not here, but he should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk with you.”

Jewel moved back and Caroline entered the house, quickly closing the door behind her and effectively hiding her from her mother’s sight. She felt all of thirteen years old again, sneaking out to the lake in the middle of the night with Jude.

The young girl motioned for her to follow. “Want a Coke or something?”

“Yes. Thanks.” She tried not to be nosy as she followed Jewel’s bouncing ponytail into the kitchen, but Caroline couldn’t help but notice the incredible furniture that seemed to be crammed against every available wall. The pieces all reflected good lines and artistry, much like her trophy cabinet, and she wondered if they had all been made by the same man.

Caroline slid onto a black-painted bar stool, its four legs twisted like corkscrews. She resisted the urge to squat down next to the chair and examine it more closely and instead focused her attention on Jewel as the girl placed a Coke can in front of her and then, as if on second thought, pulled a glass from the cabinet and placed it on the counter.

Jewel sat down across from her on a matching stool and rested her chin in her hands. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Those eyes were so disconcerting, Caroline faltered in her resolve as she stared into old eyes set in such a young face. To pull herself together, she took her time pouring her drink into the glass before taking a fortifying sip. She smiled. “I was wondering if I could use your phone.”

Jewel looked at her for a moment in confusion. “Is yours out? I’ll have to check, because ours is probably out, too. . . .”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with our phones. I just needed to use one . . . in privacy.” She smiled again. “My cell phone doesn’t work out here, and my BlackBerry’s at the bottom of the lake. I need to call my office in Atlanta, but my mother . . . Well, it’s complicated. To avoid a conflict, I just thought I could pop over here on a semiregular basis to use your phone. I have a phone card, so there’d be no long-distance charges, and we could just sort of keep this between the two of us.”

Caroline waited expectantly for a simple “fine” or “great,” but instead Jewel sat across from her with a frown on her face and began gnawing at her bottom lip as if she were really contemplating a more complicated answer than “yes.”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“Well, I guess you could tell your dad if you’d prefer not to keep anything from him. Just as long as he knows not to mention it to my mother. I know Rainy would let me use her phone, except then I’d have to get in a car and drive instead of just walking next door.”

Jewel continued to stare at her as she worried her lip. Then she smiled. “I think we can work something out.”

“Work something out?”

“Yeah—like a bargain or trade or something.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘a bargain or trade or something’? It won’t cost you anything. All I’m trying to do is make some phone calls in peace.”

“Oh, I understand that. I’m just seeing if I can somehow work this to my advantage.”

Caroline almost smiled. “I see,” she said, nodding her head slowly. “Sort of like, ‘I’ll scratch your back, and you’ll scratch mine’?”

“Exactly.” Jewel smiled broadly. “Except it would be more along the lines of you get to use my phone, and I get coaching.”

For a long moment Caroline felt as if her head were being held underwater and she couldn’t fill her lungs with air. “No,” she finally managed.