Hold Her Heart (Words of the Heart) (10 page)

“Why?” she asked.

“Because boyfriends come and go, but real friends are like family, they stick around.”

She looked like she was thinking, and then she nodded. “Yeah, that’s good then. Me and Logan are friends, and now you can be, too. But I’m your sister.”

“Yes,” I assured her. “You are my sister.”

We spent the rest of the morning on the beach. Fiona found a small handful of beach glass. We all admired them. She pointed to the browns and greens. “Those are my favorites. They remind me of Mom’s garden.”

After Fiona got dressed again, we went for a hike on one of her favorite paths. She listed off the birds she wanted to find, but we didn’t see anything spectacular according to her.

In my opinion, all the birds we did see were all pretty amazing.

We went back to the house, got lunch, and Fiona ran to a neighbor’s house.

Ned texted as Logan and I did the dishes,
Pip’s being admitted. Everything okay there?

It’s fine here. Tell Piper she’s in our thoughts.

“It’ll be okay, Siobhan. This isn’t the first time,” Logan said very sensibly.

I didn’t feel sensible. It didn’t seem fair that I’d finally met Piper only to have her taken out of reach. “I know it’s a Sunday so I won’t hear anything today, but I want to know if I’m a match. If I am—”

“Even if you are, there’s a lot to do,” Logan said. “You’ll have a battery of tests to go through to be sure you’re healthy enough to donate. Ms. Pip will have to recover from whatever this setback is, and then she’ll have to go through some pretty intense chemo before she could have the transplant.”

“But I—”

He interrupted me by taking my hand and pulling me toward the front door. “Come sit with me.”

Archie barked at the door. “He can come out,” Logan said. “He knows the drill.”

Archie curled into a ball in the corner of the porch, content to be outside with us.

It was late afternoon, and there was a touch of a chill in the air, a reminder that autumn was just around the corner.

“I love this house,” Logan said, sparing me from coming up with anything conversational. “You know, I asked Ms. Pip why she didn’t move. I mean, this is a nice enough neighborhood, but I suspect she could afford to live in one of the more expensive neighborhoods in town.” He laughed. “I know, it’s presumptuous to speculate on someone else’s income, but it was a number of years ago, so I’ll offer up youth as an excuse.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She said,
This is home. Why would I want to live anywhere else?
” He looked at me, and I realized that his dark eyes were actually blue. A very deep grayish blue. Rather like the color of the lake. They stood out against his dark complexion and hair.

“You’re in Ms. Pip’s chair right now,” he said. “I grew up seeing her sit there. It’s where she liked to work.”

“Don’t use past tense,” I said.

He nodded. “She’ll work here again. But it’s been about a year since she wrote something. I know that I’m not the only one who misses seeing her sit here every day.”

The chair felt comfortable, and the porch railing was close enough that I could easily extend my feet and prop my legs against it. My laptop would sit nicely on my thighs if I did. “I can imagine that this would be a good place to work.”

“Ms. Pip’s a fixture. A generation of kids have watched her working in the nice weather and right behind that window,” he pointed to the window just behind the chairs, “in the colder weather. But you could count on her. She’d wave every day. And if you told her you were worried about a test, or about anything, she’d ask you about it. She genuinely cared. Not just the food pantry stuff. She volunteered as the kindergarten story lady, you know.”

“Fiona said something about her at school.”

“She went into the classes once a week or so and read the kids a couple of books. Sometimes they were her books. She says the kindergarten kids were a great testing ground. But she also had stacks of favorites. The one I remember best was
Where the Wild Thing Are
. She came in for a whole afternoon. We read the book, and afterward we made our own wild-thing masks. She had this huge box of stuff. Glitter. Fabric. Tinsel. We had markers, glue, and we went a bit nuts. But so did she. When we finished, we all wore our masks and she read the story again. This time, she had her
wild-rumpus
music, and we all howled and gnashed our teeth and showed our claws.”

I could almost picture Piper—the Piper from the Internet photo—wearing a mask, her red hair flaming above it as she howled and gnashed with the kids. “It sounds like she had as much fun as the kids.”

“She got so excited about everything. She made everything special,” Logan said.

“Makes,” I corrected.

He nodded. “Makes. What was your childhood like?” he asked changing directions.

I realized he hadn’t really told me about his childhood, just the Piper part, but I didn’t press. “I had a wonderful childhood. I was an only child of two educators, so the house was full of books.
Where the Wild Things Are
is probably still in the attic somewhere. And
Little Women
and the Trixie Belden books, and
Anne of Green Gables
. I fell in love with Prince Edward Island. When I was about Fiona’s age, my parents took me there for a summer vacation.” I realized I’d talked about Anne and PEI last night. “Sorry, I’m being redundant.”

“I don’t mind hearing about them again. I never read them,” he said.

“I guess they weren’t high on a boy’s reading list,” I said with a laugh.

“Your parents sound nice.”

“They were. They doted on me, but I don’t think they spoiled me . . . at least not too much.” My happiness had come at Piper’s expense.

Again, as if he could read my thoughts, Logan said, “That’s what Ms. Pip always wanted for you. After Fiona invited me to your party, we talked about you. Me and Ms. Pip. She said she gave you away because you deserved so much more than she could have given you then. She wanted you to have the kind of childhood she had. Wait until you meet your grandparents.”

I wasn’t ready to meet anyone else. But I didn’t say so. Logan let me be. We sat in silence on the porch, and I tried to imagine Piper sitting in this chair, watching a generation of children across the street at the school.

At some point, I realized he was holding my hand. It was as if he knew I needed to feel connected to someone.

I’d only known Logan Greer for a bit more than a day, but he already felt like someone I could count on.

Like a friend.

I didn’t pull away.

Simone had two coats. One was soft and light blue. It fell to her knees. She liked the way it swished against her legs as she walked. The other coat was a fat down coat that made her look like a bright yellow marshmallow but kept her warm no matter how long she was outside.

She was wearing her marshmallow coat on Saturday—along with her bright yellow-and-orange hat and gloves—when she went to the park to sled. She felt bright and warm and excited to spend a day out in the snow. Then she noticed Lena D. from school. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a black knit hat. And no gloves.

—The Marshmallow Coat
, by Pip

Over the next few days, we all fell into a routine. Ned had worked for a law firm for years, but when Piper got sick, he’d cut back at work. The firm had hired a new full-time investigator, so Ned worked per diem when Piper’s health allowed. He also picked up work from other people when he could.

I wondered how they managed financially. I didn’t know much about writing, but I assumed that Piper had enough coming in from her books to support the family. I thought about what Logan had said when he asked about why they lived here.

They lived simply enough. Maybe her career had prepared them both for uncertain incomes.

I lived the same way. When APPlicable sold its first few apps, I’d taken my share of the money and squirreled it away. I continued living as if I were college poor until one day I realized that I had a nice nest egg. I invested that in a house that cost half what the bank prequalified my loan for. I lived frugally, building up a cushion that would tide me over if the business took a downturn.

Although Ned wasn’t working, he spent most days at the hospital with Piper. I went every day as well to give Ned a break. Piper was too exhausted to visit, but I think she liked seeing me.

I made sure I was at the house when Fiona got home from school. If Logan wasn’t working or at school, the three of us had dinner together. If he was gone, it was just Fiona and me. Either way, I stayed with her until Ned got home.

Fiona’s grandparents—my grandparents—had offered to keep her, but Fiona insisted she wanted to stay with me. I’d met them. They seemed nice enough. I met Piper’s friend, Cooper, too. But the two people I was really getting to know were Fiona and Logan.

I’d come to meet my mother, but I felt as if I’d developed a closer bond with the sister I hadn’t known I had and my inadvertent roommate.

Ned got home Friday night at almost eight. I jumped off the couch as I heard him open the door. We met near the doorway. “Is Fi still up?”

I nodded. “Last I saw her she was heading up to take a bath. I hope you don’t mind, but I bought her an orange spa kit.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. No, in his eyes I saw utter exhaustion and maybe the first hints of fear.

“Bubbles for the bath and lotion. She likes the smell of mine, so I got her one. She misses Piper, and I thought a little treat was in order.” If I knew him better, I might hug him. But I didn’t know him well enough for that, so I tucked my hands in my pockets.

“Piper misses her,” he said. “She misses everyone. She’s so torn up that you’re here and she’s stuck in the hospital.”

“How is she . . . ,” I paused and added, “really?”

“She’s getting sicker.”

“I called my doctor again to get the results. He said soon. Hopefully in the next few days.” I paused and asked, “What are we going to do if I’m not able to donate.”

Ned seemed to freeze a moment, as if my question caught him unaware. He fiddled with a picture on a shelf. It was of Fiona as a toddler, wearing a plaid jumper and shiny black Mary Jane shoes.

He turned to me and answered, “We’ll keep hoping they find a donor out there. People join the registry every day. I know that before Pip got sick, I never gave it a thought, but now I give thanks every day for all the selfless people who have signed up. It takes a special kind of person to be willing to do something like that for a stranger. People who are willing to give of themselves—literally—for someone else.”

“There haven’t been any matches yet, though,” I said.

He forced a smile and squared his shoulder. “That doesn’t mean there won’t be one tomorrow.”

Maybe sometimes, when you’re scared to your core, finding the will to act brave is an act of bravery in itself.

I reached out and patted his forearm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Siobhan, if you need to get home . . . ,” he started but trailed off as I shook my head.

“I can work here as easily as there. And I think right now I need to be here.” I paused and added, “I want to be here as long as you don’t mind.”

He hugged me. “Mind? No. Pip would be able to come up with a word that is the direct opposite of
mind
, but I can’t. I’ll just say that we’re thankful that you are here. I just don’t want you to think we’re taking advantage of you. You’ve been such a help with Fi, but I know you have your own life.”

“Ned, I didn’t know I had a sister. And even if I had, I don’t think I could have been prepared for Fiona.” She was a force of nature. “She’s amazing. She had birthday parties for me. She showed me the pictures of them.”

He nodded. “She made me take a picture of your cake every year, and she started her scrapbook. We look at them every year.”

“I couldn’t leave her like this. She’s aching for Piper, and I can’t change that, but I can be here for her and try to make it easier.”

“You have made it easier. Thank you. I’m not sure any of us have remembered to say it enough, but thank you.”

I started for the door, but he said, “Siobhan, I’ve read those articles about nature versus nurture over the years. I never paid much attention to the debate. But since I’ve met you, I’ve decided that I believe in both. Your parents raised you to be a loving, caring woman. But I think there’s a chance that you inherited the size of your heart from Piper. She says that everything she’s done was for you, and I know you were the impetus, but I suspect that even without being nudged in that direction, she would have done those things. It’s in her nature. And I see so much of that nature in you. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done. Thank you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply nodded and hurried out the door. Rather than go back to the house next door, I walked along the side of the house and let myself in the garden gate.

I walked to the bench by the milkweed. There were small solar lights along the now well-trodden path. They provided enough light to outline the path, though I suspected that even a month ago, when the trees were thick with leaves, the lights were less useful.

I wondered if there was any way to find lights that had a collection panel that could be moved to a sunnier location and still power the shady garden lights next summer.

I’d have to look into it. I suspected Piper would love to have a more sustainable lighting source next year.

A tiny voice in my head added,
if she’s still here
.

I sat on the bench and looked back at Piper, Ned, and Fiona’s house. There was a light on in the kitchen, and one shining from the upstairs hall. I could imagine Ned and Fiona sitting together and talking about Piper. Fiona was worried. He’d reassure her.

I heard someone on the path coming from my backyard through the hole in the fence.

“I saw Ned’s car come in, and when you didn’t come home, I suspected I’d find you here.”

Logan sat down next to me on the small bench. His thigh was pressed against my thigh; his arm, pressed against mine. “How is she?” he asked.