The Pieces We Keep (10 page)

No ... she would not be manipulated so easily.

She salvaged just enough will to wedge her hands between their bodies and pushed against his chest. Yet he gripped her wrists and raised them to the rungs above. He stilled her head by pressing his cheek to hers and whispered raggedly by her ear.

“I
do
love you, damn it. So much, it’s hard to breathe when we’re apart. I’d marry you tonight if I could. You have to know that.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, told herself not to listen. But the heat of his skin, the raw yearning in his tone, weakened her resolve.

“Look at me,” he said again, and relinquished his grip on her wrists. “Darling, please ...”

She felt his thumb wipe a trail of moisture from her cheek. He leaned into her, his leg touching her thigh, paralyzing her. His mouth brushed her forehead. He stretched slow kisses toward her temple, and the space in her lungs constricted. Every breath took concerted effort.

“I’ll go.” He spoke almost too softly for her to hear. She expected him to pull away and ascend the ladder, before he added, “I’ll go with you.”

She digested the words, the full force of their meaning. Her eyes opened and found his face only inches away. “But-you just said-”

“For Christ’s sake, Vivian. I think I deserved a moment to take it in. Until a few weeks ago, you had me convinced you were in no hurry for anything serious.”

Until a few weeks ago, she had convinced herself of the same. Still, she remained leery of escalating her hopes. “And ... your family?”

His gaze fell to the side, a long quiet beat. “I don’t know. But there has to be a way.”

“Of... ?”

He looked at her. “To take my mother back to the States. Then I’d know she’d be safe.”

Vivian wished her father would help, but his opinions of Germans, particularly after today, would make him utterly inflexible. It was otherwise a wondrous plan. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

One side of Isaak’s mouth hinted at a smile. He tucked away a strand of her hair and again pressed his lips to hers. Vivian’s fingers joined behind his neck, drawing him closer. His hand slid beneath her sweater, over her dress, just below her breast. With his other hand he stretched her collar to the side, and his tongue traced over her shoulder in moist, rapturous strokes. Indescribable heat flared through her middle, arching her back, sending a moan from her throat.

Soon, his fingers left her collar, brushed past the side of her waist and hip, and started their way up under her dress. They traveled over her right stocking and beneath her slip. Once at her garter belt, he slowed his pace as if waiting for her to stop him.

This was the boundary they never crossed, despite the pulsing of temptation. Out of habit, her hand indeed layered over his, but this time she surprised even herself by guiding him to continue.

He complied for an instant but then resisted. He peered into her eyes, his forehead creased. “Are you sure?”

A fresh wave of desire surged through her. More than that, the need to prove just how certain she was-not only of their intimacy, but of her commitment to their future. It was just a matter of time before they would trade vows of forever. Perhaps deep inside she had known this the minute they first met.

Reinforced by the notion, she returned to their improvised blanket. She faced him before removing her shoes and sweater. The lantern light flickered over his captivated features, reducing her modesty to cinders. Unbuttoning her dress, she let the garment fall. She did the same to her slip.

Isaak’s hunter-like gaze roamed over her figure. She fought the instinct to cover herself, already feeling naked, but then he came closer. He said nothing as he stripped away his clothes, picking up speed with each article.

Acutely aware of his arousal, she felt her entire body flush. He finished undressing her, leaving a trail of sensations over every area he touched, and guided her to lie with him. The ground should have been cool through the burlap cloth, yet she scarcely registered the temperature. His mouth, his fingers, sloped over her breasts and down the tautness of her belly, causing her knees to bend.

“Wait,” she said, barely audible. In her mind she felt her toes dangling over the ridge of a cliff, the drop too far to see. She longed for his profession of love, once more, before taking this final step.

But then he raised his head, and the look in his eyes made any pledge irrelevant. No matter the words he crafted, she would follow him regardless.

Fearful though ready, she rose to meet his body and leapt blindly into the void.

N
othing fully prepares you for the ramifications of your first time.

From the start, Audra knew that euthanasia was not only a basic part of the job but a merciful one. The terminal surgeries at veterinary school were supposed to have armed her with the required emotional armor.

They hadn’t.

The first animal she put down was an old black Lab, deaf and half blind, suffering from liver cancer. It would have been cruel to keep him alive. The family, too, understood this. And yet, after it was over, Audra spent an hour in her office sobbing. Although that inaugural act was the worst of them, to this day an ache would hollow her as she pressed a stethoscope to an animal’s chest and confirmed she’d silenced its heart.

She could feel the coming of that ache now as she knocked on the front door.

“We are ready for you,” the mother said, “in the backyard.” Her soft Hispanic accent held a sullen tone. She escorted Audra through her house and out the kitchen door, back into the afternoon light. Two matching Shih Tzus whimpered from an open window, already in mourning.

Audra’s technician, a young sprite of a gal named Jill, was setting up beside the garden. Lush grass led to a serene pond. Here their medical scrubs seemed almost an offense.

The daughter of the family sat on a striped, tasseled blanket. No older than ten, she wore a thin glittery headband over her sable bob. In her arms she cradled a fluffy white rabbit with huge pink eyes. Her parents, clients since the clinic’s founding, had made all of the arrangements earlier that week.

“Hi, Isabella, I’m Dr. Hughes.” Audra cleared her throat, gravelly from another sleepless night. Jack’s dreams had ratcheted up another notch since the festival’s excitement the day before.

Isabella looked up with tear-filled eyes.

Audra knelt on the blanket. Her compiled exhaustion would make it harder to control her emotions. “I heard this spot was Snowball’s favorite, right here by the carrots.”

The girl petted the rabbit’s back and eked out a nod.

“I know she lived a very long life, and I’m sure she was really special to you. So don’t you worry. I’m going to do everything I can to make this as peaceful as possible for her. Now, I’m just going to take her for a few minutes, then give her right back, okay?”

At Isabella’s reluctance, her father stepped closer. “Do what the doctor says,
mija
,” he said gently. She stroked the rabbit’s head, her lower lip quivering, before she obeyed.

Jill assisted Audra in clipping fur from the rabbit’s front leg to place and secure the catheter. Meanwhile, the mother reprimanded her two young sons for bickering over a lightsaber.

Audra attempted to hand the rabbit back, just as promised, but Isabella burst into tears and ran into the house.

“She’ll be fine,” the father told his wife, and gave a signal for Audra and Jill to continue.

It took Audra a moment to recall her standard script. “First,” she said, “I’m going to give Snowball an injection that will literally make her fall asleep. Then, in thirty seconds to a minute, her heartbeat will stop and so will her breathing. Do you have any questions before I start?”

They shook their heads.

After a steadying breath, Audra proceeded as outlined. The rabbit shivered beneath her hand while absorbing enough anesthetic to achieve an overdose. When the time came, Audra held her stethoscope to the animal’s chest. It was over. The rabbit’s eyes remained open, as they always did, staring back like an accusation.

Usually at this point, owners would share fond stories of their pet. With Isabella hidden away, it wasn’t a surprise that the family bypassed a session of nostalgia.

Jill helped Audra pack up the equipment and they headed for their cars. The mother waved to them in gratitude before closing the front door.

“See you at work,” Jill said, her tone subdued, before pulling away. If not for an errand Jill needed to run, they would have driven together. Carpooling was efficient and economical, but also safer when one of them was too emotional to drive.

Alone in her car, Audra relaxed into her seat. The normal rush of sadness didn’t arrive, and she was relieved for it. She had just started the ignition when a face in her periphery caused her to jump.

Isabella.

Audra rolled down the window and offered a smile. “Hey there.”

“Is Snowball gone?” Isabella’s voice sounded so small it could have fit in a ring box. Trails of dried tears marked her face.

“I’m afraid so, honey.”

The girl nodded. Then instead of walking away, she gazed into Audra’s eyes and said, “Is she in heaven now?”

Audra had been asked the same question dozens of times. It had been easier to answer before she knew the truth.

She gathered herself, ready to provide a simple yes. Yet when she opened her mouth, the memory of her own nightmare came rushing back, of another little girl, an apparition in the clinic, confronting Audra about her dog—and the consequence of her lie.

Only when Isabella’s face went hard did Audra realized she’d voiced her thought.

Audra tried to amend her words. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean that.” Which was true; she hadn’t intended to hurt her.

But already Isabella was rushing away.

“Isabella!” Audra called out as the girl went into the house.

A pound of shame landed on Audra’s shoulders, pressing her to the seat. She should go inside, repair the damage. Or would she merely make it worse? At this point, any contrary statement would be discounted as deception. Even children knew that once you’ve exposed the Wizard of Oz for an ordinary man, a return to the myth was an impossible feat.

“I’m sorry,” Audra whispered. The tears came then, not out of grief but longing, for a time when she, too, believed in magic. What she wouldn’t give to have all her problems solved with three clicks of her heels.

 

Tess announced her entry with a swift set of knocks. She closed the door behind her and shoved her hands into her lab coat pockets. She didn’t take a seat.

Audra swiveled in her desk chair to confront the fallout head-on. “I take it you’ve heard.”

“And so has Hector. The girl’s parents called him directly.”

“Lovely.”

“Audra, he thinks you need a break. A chance to ... get your thoughts together.”

Here they went again.

“I told you, Tess. I’m fine.” The last thing Audra needed was too much time to dwell—especially now, with Isabella’s expression ingrained in her mind. The latest addition to her collection of mistakes. “Believe me, I feel horrible about what happened. I’ll gladly call and apologize to the family—”

“Sweetie. This isn’t a suggestion.”

Audra stared. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying ...” Tess took a breath, a grave look in her eyes. “You’ve been put on leave.”

T
he announcement was timely, inevitable really, yet Vivian startled at the words.

“You two ought to get onboard now,” her father said over the din. His black fedora and trench coat matched nearly every man in Euston Station.

Her mother, shockingly, didn’t sprint for the train. Adjusting her white gloves, she conferred over travel details one final time. The netting from her hat reached the narrow tip of her nose.

Vivian checked her watch and begged the minutes to slow.

The cars were bloating with passengers, most of them young children. From open windows they hollered farewells in a clash of thrills and tears. Evacuation tags hung over their travel wear. On the platform, any mother not weeping strained for a portrayal of strength, waiting to break down in private.

On another day, Vivian’s heart would sink from the scene. But in this moment her greatest care lay with Isaak, the anticipation of his arrival. She would not dare cross the ocean without him.

It had been seven days since they lay in that cellar, their limbs interwoven like the roots of a banyan tree. A sheen of sweat had glistened their bodies in the lantern’s soft light. Breath still heavy, he’d rested his head on her chest. She had stroked his hair and stared at the ceiling, where shadows moved in a watery sway. To her relief, there had been no pain from the joining of their bodies, as rumored from other girls, only initial discomfort fully rewarded by the intensity of Isaak’s pleasure. In her arms he’d drifted off for some time, but Vivian had never been more alert. She had given of herself in every way possible, and that vulnerable act left her equally comforted and unsettled.

The next day, she had phoned Isaak from her father’s office with specifics of her travels. She withheld objections over Isaak’s plans to visit Munich. She understood; he couldn’t very well use a telegram to summon his mother across enemy borders. It was an invite to be delivered discreetly and in person. Through the black market he would arrange documents for his mother, his other relatives if possible.
And if they don’t wish to go?
Vivian had dared ask, to which he replied without pause:
Then I’ll meet you at the station alone.

But now, here she was, and he had yet to show.

“Travel safely,” her father said, catching Vivian’s attention. “And don’t misplace your luggage tickets.” He glanced at the train. “Better not delay now.”

“I’m sure we have a little more time before we actually leave,” she insisted.

“The conductor already gave the last call.”

“Yes, but I’m sure—”

“Vivian,” her mother said, “don’t be difficult. If we don’t make it to Liverpool on time, we could miss the ship.”

Steam blasted from the locomotive like a kettle heated for tea. The train would pull away within minutes. Short of throwing herself on the tracks, Vivian could think of no method to stall.

“Wire me when you’re safely in New Hampshire,” she heard her father say. Until he joined them, they were to lodge with her maternal grandmother, a proper though pleasant woman, beyond her smell of mothballs.

He gave his wife a peck on the cheek. Then instead of separating, they simply stood there. Unspoken messages flowed between them before he leaned in and tenderly kissed her lips.

Vivian felt wholly intrusive, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She had never seen them exchange more than cursory affection. Dangers of wartime, she decided, inflated even marital emotions. Yet when their mouths parted, the truth of their good-bye became apparent. It held nothing in the way of passion, only a somberness so palpable it thickened the air.

Vivian’s mother caught her gawking, a jolt of awkwardness. “Say good-bye to your father,” she said, composing herself. She gripped her purse with both hands and strode toward the closest train door.

“Watch over your mother,” he said. “I’ll see you both when I can.”

Vivian nodded, still taken aback.

He took an audible breath and headed down the platform. He was about to veer around a porter, who was hauling a trunk on his back, when Vivian reclaimed her voice.

“Father!”

He twisted to see over his shoulder, and she realized she had no inkling how to fill this moment. Not with words anyhow. She rushed over and embraced him. There was a slight stiffness in his hold, as always, but she took no offense.

“I’ll see you before long,” he said, and patted the back of her wool coat.

She drew away and discovered on his face a wistful smile. It was a look she would carry with her like a lucky trinket in her pocket.

“Be careful,” she said, and he nodded.

Then he sent her off to the train, and she knew neither of them would look back.

As Vivian neared the coach, her thoughts cleared and anxiety over Isaak returned. For him not to be here, something terrible must have occurred. He couldn’t have changed his mind. Considering what they had shared, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Are you boarding, miss?” Atop the coach steps, the conductor extended his hand to guide her in.

She was clutching the railing, but her feet would not leave the platform.

“Well?”

“I ... don’t know.” She could stay with her father, wait for word from Isaak. Tell her mother she would follow.

“Vivian!” A male voice reached from a distance. “Vivian James!”

Her breath hitched. A plaid flat cap moved through the crowd and a hand shot up over heads. He shouted her name again.

She wasted no time running toward him. “Isaak!” She ignored the conductor’s chiding, overtaken by relief and joy.

In her mind she saw it all; together, she and Isaak would marvel at the Grand Canyon, dip their toes in a frothy sea. They would adventure through the plains, resting by campfire, and make love every night until dawn. “Isaak!”

She glimpsed his hat as it passed between people, winking like a star. She could not fathom a grander feeling, though she paused when she lost sight of him. Another man walked toward her, also in a cap, blocking her view. She tried to see around him until he spoke.

“You’re Vivian James. Are you not?”

“Well–yes–”

“This is for you.” He held out an envelope. Her name was penned across the front in familiar script. Isaak always curled the V in such a way.

Vivian was seized by her error. The stranger before her was the man who had called her name, waved a hand over the crowd. Not her beloved Isaak.

The locomotive creaked and hissed, its departure imminent.

“Is Isaak running late?” she demanded. “Shall I wait, take another train? Will he meet us in Liverpool?” Whatever the case, she needed answers this instant, for more than logistics. Prolonging the discovery would be altogether torturous.

The man raised the delivery toward her, an explanation inside.

“Please,” she begged. “You have to tell me ...”

His shoulders rounded downward before he shook his head. “You should go back to the States,” he said. “Without him.”