The Pieces We Keep (15 page)

O
ut on the deck, Audra studied her son from across the table, visualizing the impossible. She added a dozen years to his face, put pilots’ goggles over his eyes, dressed him in a flight jacket marked with a Nazi patch.

Jack looked up at her curiously. “Mom? What is it?”

She squashed the image, outrageous in every way. “Sorry, I was just zoning out.”

“Got the chef’s special for two here,” Robert announced, delivering a plate of veggie patties. His timing was impeccable.

“Wonderful,” Audra said. “Thanks for making those.”

“You betcha.” He wiped his hands on his apron, the caricature type that transformed his torso into that of a bodybuilder. “Buns will be right over.” He swooped back to the barbecue, where he plated the meat patties for him and Meredith and the toasted bread for them all.

Audra was grateful the weather allowed them to celebrate outside. Helium balloons were tied around the deck, adding a rainbow of color to her in-laws’ backyard. Special occasions of any kind could be rough after a loss; that’s why Audra was determined to make this a bright and cheery event.

“Are you excited to see your cake?” she asked Jack.

“Uh-huh.” He took a gulp of his fruit punch, staining his mouth with a joker’s grin.

She stage-whispered, “I hear Grandpa got you something super special this year.”

“Really? What is it?”

“I don’t know yet. Apparently it’s Top Secret.”

He smiled and bounced his legs dangling off the seat. Audra reveled in his delight until he snagged a baby carrot from the veggie tray. Combined with the setting, the sight reminded her of Isabella and her rabbit on a blanket by the garden....

Audra brushed away the thought to make room for anything light. Like an old favorite game.

“I see ... Geppetto,” she said, indicating Robert as the target.

Jack twisted his lips, thinking. “Super Mario.”

“Hmm, good one. How about ... Elmer Fudd with a mustache.”

“Papa Smurf.”

Tied, two to two. Audra was pondering more mustached characters when Meredith returned from the house. She joined them at the table with a bowl of potato salad.

“This one’s a new recipe, so I hope it’s okay.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Audra said.

Robert brought the last of the items over and settled in his chair. “I say we have at it. Okay with you, Mama?”

Meredith hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Let’s dig in,” she said with a smile. She was skipping the blessing on account of her guests. While part of Audra found this refreshing, the rest of her sank with guilt. Her commentary about harps and wings must have spurred the change.

Jack, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice. Though he was accustomed to prayers before meals here—as Audra never discouraged him; he would discover the truth on his own—he appeared just as pleased to dive into his burger.

“Careful now, Jack,” Audra said. “Try not to get ketchup on your cast.” She took care in articulating his name. Ever since last night, when calling him Jakob had distinctly soothed him, she feared making the same mistake—almost as much as she feared the reason it had worked. On the drive over, she had asked him about the name, undeniably similar to his own. As usual, he shook his head.

Whose idea had it been to call him Jack in the first place? Hers or Devon’s, she couldn’t remember. It wasn’t a family name. No specific actor or athlete or character in a book sprang to mind as the inspiration.

Not that it mattered.

“So, Robert, how’s business going?” she asked while scooping up fruit cocktail.

“Pretty well,” he said. “They tell me no walls have fallen down this week. So far.”

“That’s always good news.”

Meredith said, “What about you, Audra? Any word from your interviews?” She seemed more interested than investigative, a welcomed difference from before.

“There might be an opportunity. Nothing set yet.” In actuality, as of this morning, a solid option had materialized. But she would save that for a private discussion. She diverted the subject, perpetuating small talk as they all enjoyed their lunch.

To Meredith’s credit, her mentions of Devon were limited, her efforts for levity clear. Always a teacher, she entertained Jack with fun facts that ranged from the formation of Multnomah Falls to squirrel-proofing her garden with mothballs and cayenne pepper.

When the time came, the couple went inside to prepare for the finale. Audra transferred gifts from the car to the back deck, where Robert assembled a mound of presents. On this day above any, Audra saw the value of a grandparent’s duty to spoil.

They all sang “Happy Birthday” as Meredith carried out the cake. It was shaped like a moon, with candles surrounding a big wax
8.
A sign protruded from airbrushed craters:
Happy birthday to our shooting star!

Robert snapped his camera. “Make a wish, Beanstalk.”

Jack’s concentration rivaled that of a surgeon. The candles dripped into puddles of color. He blew out the flames and the group applauded. It seemed they all shared a common wish, based on the quiet that set in like a low-lying cloud. The tearing of wrapping paper helped hide the tension, as did Jack’s pleasure over his toys, books, and clothes.

Audra had just finished her cake, chocolate with raspberry filling, when Meredith rose to clear the table. “Audra, would you mind grabbing the bowls?”

“Not at all.”

As Audra assisted in gathering, Jack salvaged crumbs from his plate. He chuckled at the frosting that fringed his grandpa’s mustache. The sound, though brief, was powerful enough to make Audra contemplate her plans; there was much to gain from a drastic relocation, but there also would be loss.

“Holy Toledo, I forgot to bring out the best gift yet,” she heard Robert say as she stepped into the house.

In the kitchen, Meredith rinsed off plates and cups for the dishwasher. Without being asked, she shifted away from the sink, giving Audra access to the trash can below. Audra deposited a wad of dirty napkins and closed the cupboard with her foot. The routine here, together, filled her with a rush of the familiar. A choreography she missed.

“Looks like Jack’s still having bad dreams,” Meredith said, without turning from the sink.

“Yeah. He is.”

The drooping of his eyes, or Audra’s, must have given them away. After all, she had provided few updates since the festival. She hadn’t deliberately avoided the woman’s calls, but neither had she raced to return them.

Meredith’s demeanor told her this hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I’m sorry we’ve been out of touch lately,” Audra said.

“There’s just been some issues with Jack, and I’ve been trying to figure it all out.”

“Well, you know Jack’s welfare always comes first for us.”

“I do.”

Meredith scrubbed at a grill spatula, the charred pieces not budging. Her skin grew splotchy from the intensity of her efforts.

Soaking the tool in suds would be better, letting the grime ease gradually rather than forcing it clean. But who was Audra to say as much? The same advice could apply to her own life.

Maybe Meredith was right; distance from family could prove more damaging, and not just for Jack, but Audra too. Her parents were prime examples.

“Meredith,” she said softly. “I could really use your help.”

At this, Meredith shut off the faucet and turned. Her expression underscored how long it had been since Audra had confided in her about anything.

Meredith nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I got a call this morning from the interviewer in Boston. I guess he wanted to tell me before he went on a trip tomorrow. Anyhow, it’s unofficial until they can sort out some details when he gets back, but basically, they’re offering me the job. If all goes well, I’d start in August.”

Meredith’s look of concern grew dim. She seemed to have aged ten years since their last visit. She picked up a kitchen towel, wiped her hands. “And ... you’re going to take it.”

“I am—was. I’m not sure. There’s been a lot going on. More than you know about.”

A pause. “I’m listening.”

Audra heaved a sigh, too tired to filter her words. “All right, then. Here goes.”

Once her internal gate opened, the details rolled out in a long, breathless string. The drawings, the therapist, the book, the soldier. Nazi spies and wartime subs, plane crashes and electric chairs. A German phrase and inscription, the name of a man who remained a mystery.

Even if she wanted to, Audra couldn’t stop purging. Every admission was a burden lifted, a shackle unlocked. When the entire summary had run its course, Meredith leaned back against the counter, her shock betrayed only by her eyes.

“And you believe ... Jack has been reincarnated?” Her tone dragged with the same disbelief Audra had initially directed at Dr. Shaw. The word
reincarnated
in itself conjured visions of infomercials reserved for airings at three in the morning.

“I know it sounds crazy. To be honest, I first thought it was all from Jack watching war movies at your house—even though you said he didn’t.” In hindsight, Audra wasn’t proud of those doubts. “But now, given everything that’s happened, I think there’s more to it. There has to be. I just don’t know what.”

Silence expanded between them, filling every cranny of the room.

Meredith stared at the dishcloth in her grip, as if waiting for it to crawl away. Finally she lifted her gaze. “I need to ask you a question,” she said, and Audra readily nodded. “Has this man ... this soldier ... when he comes over ... has he had anything to do with Jack getting hurt? His bruises and the like?”

Audra was so startled by the question, her voice faltered. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You said he’s been to your apartment.”

“He has, yes. But only once.” Nothing about the guy conveyed a con man or serial killer. “He was just looking for our help.”

“So Jack’s injuries,” Meredith went on, “they’re all from you, then.”

“Yes, I told you that. I ...” The realization came slowly at first, then hit with the force of a grenade. “Meredith, are you accusing me of something?”

Meredith struggled to answer.

That alone said it all.

Just then, Jack ran into the room. “Mom, look!” he exclaimed, raising a rifle in the air. “Check out what Grandpa gave me.”

Now it was Audra’s turn to be shocked. “That was the surprise gift?”

Robert entered with a prideful grin and ruffled Jack’s hair. “It’s just like the one I grew up with. Mere and I happened across it at an antique store in Sellwood last week.”

Audra kept her voice neutral in front of Jack. “I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want him hunting, for birds or anything else.”

“Oh, well, sure. But it’s only a BB gun. Harmless as pie.”

Audra had removed enough BBs from the bodies of defenseless cats to know this wasn’t the case. Besides, the last thing Jack needed was a weapon to amplify his wartime confusion. At the very least, Robert should have asked her first.

“You know what, Jack?” she said. “It’s getting pretty late. We should get going.”

“But Grandpa said we could go shoot at soup cans.”

“Another day.”

His shoulders dropped along with his smile, tempting her to give in. But a single glance at Meredith eliminated the notion.

It went without saying that Audra had made her decision about moving, and now there would be no delay.

She immediately packed up Jack’s gifts, except for one. “We’ll keep the BB gun here where it’s safe. Okay, buddy? Now, say good-bye to your grandparents.”

He obeyed without protest and followed her to the car.

While driving away, Audra looked at Jack in the rearview mirror. How could anyone, much less a family member, believe she would ever abuse her son?

A single thought tamped her outrage: the chance that Meredith wasn’t alone in her suspicions.

Audra’s craving for a solution had never been greater.

She had lost her chance to save Devon. If she’d examined each of his symptoms to uncover the truth, the outcome could have been different. She wasn’t about to repeat her error, not with Jack. If necessary, she’d search the earth, the sea, the sky for the answer.

M
ore than two hundred feet hung between Vivian and the ground. As the ascent continued, she shut her eyes tight. She had made a mistake. She wanted to get off. Yet with the ferocity of her grip, removing her from the ride could prove impossible without pliers.

“This was a horrible, awful idea,” she said to Gene, who was harnessed beside her on the canvas seat. She only vaguely recalled that the idea had been hers.

Created for the World’s Fair, the Parachute Jump had always appeared a thrilling ride with a partner. The open-air steel structure possessed all the sturdiness of the Eiffel Tower. This had been her claim whenever trying to sway Luanne, whose aversion to heights had prevented the adventure.

Vivian now recognized her roommate’s sensibility. Confidence came in greater supply when at the bottom gazing up.

“Focus right here,” Gene told Vivian. “Not down below, just on me.”

At first, she suspected pliers might be needed to lift her eyelids too, but the warmth in his tone lured them partially open. Her vision moved over his khaki tie, his collar, his face.

“That’s my girl.” He issued a casual smile, as if sharing a booth at a diner, not dangling in midair. “We’re almost at the top.”

She appreciated his efforts, and most of all the withholding of mockery, but a flimsy, overused chute couldn’t possibly slow their fall. A few faulty metal rings could send them
splat
into Steeplechase Park, flat as a strip of gum. It didn’t help that the scruffy men operating the cables were less interested in their jobs than the shapely females on Coney Island.

“Will it help if I hold on to you?” Gene asked.

She replied with a tiny nod, though internally the motion was vigorous.

He navigated his hand around the straps behind her. Over her pedal pushers, he wrapped the side of her waist. “I’ve got you, see?”

She did, and a small part of her relaxed.

Gene glanced up toward the release mechanism. “Remember, now, don’t look down.”

Vivian nodded again, a split second before they dropped toward the earth. She sucked in a breath, the air thin from altitude and fear, and buried her face in Gene’s shoulder. His firm hold braced her for a jerk of the straps. A sudden weightlessness followed, breezy and soothing-hopefully not from a trip to heaven.

“Wow,” he said. “Would you get a load of that.”

The sheer awe in his voice gradually lifted her head. Their parachute had mushroomed, enabling a dramatic, bird’s-eye view. Afternoon sunrays had formed the fingers of a wizard, turning canals into gold, softening buildings made of brick. All the bustling stilled and noises ceased, as if the world took a moment to rest.

“Sure is somethin’ else,” he said. “Feel like you’re seeing all of New York from here, don’t ya?”

“No,” she said in amazement. “More like the whole country.”

It was hard to fathom that at this very minute, on Pacific shores and European borders, young men were engaged in battle. Although Vivian lacked the naivety to believe so, way up here-above bridges connecting islands, the grand statue affirming liberty-even perpetual peace seemed possible. In fact, with Gene at her side, a sense of safety enfolding her, anything seemed possible.

 

They rode the Parachute Jump three more times in a row. Each went off without a hitch, thanks to Gene tipping the operators. Passengers otherwise risked getting stuck halfway-much too long for the “mishap” to be romantic, just an amusing pastime for the workers.

Powered by adrenaline, Vivian continued the charge for adventure. Together, they laughed and hollered while conquering every ride in the vicinity. They dipped on the Tornado, wound through the Cyclone, and zipped down the Thunderbolt, seizing each other’s hands or arms when needed. By the time they broke for a meal-a couple of Nathan’s Famous hot dogs-their physical interaction felt like an old hat.

It wasn’t until they were out on the pier, the sun retiring over the sea, that his touch caused her to tense. Gene’s thumb brushed her cheek and followed the slant of her jaw. The salt-scented air mingled with soap and pine from his skin.

Could a kiss come so soon?

They had known each other for years, but not like this. Always she had considered him handsome, but in a different way: as the brother of a friend, with a manner more reserved than her usual taste. In two short days, her perspective had pleasantly broadened.

At his second stroke to her face, she held her breath, anticipating the next step.

“You missed some,” he said.

She stared, confounded, as he dropped his hand.

“There was paint on your cheek. From yesterday.”

“Oh. Yes.” Blindly she rubbed at the spot. “Thank you.”

He nodded and angled toward the water.

Inside, she flamed with embarrassment. She had sorely mistaken his intentions. After her episode at the dance, maybe his care was only the protective, brotherly kind.

But that couldn’t be right. His side-glances all day had affirmed his attraction. True, he hadn’t poured with conversation, yet she had found the trait refreshing. There was no pressure for idle chatter. Already they were so familiar, as if his arm were a shawl she was always meant to wear.

Until now.

With only waves lapping the quiet, she sensed that comfort receding. For a reason she could not pinpoint he had begun to pull away.

“So,” he said. “You ready?”

She smiled and replied, “Absolutely.”

 

Awkwardness solidified with every stop of the streetcar. Vivian willed its pace to quicken. Any eye contact from Gene amounted to a flicker. He appeared deliberate in allowing strangers to divide them, though he had insisted on escorting her home.

After disembarking, they wound through the moonlit streets, trading only the sounds of their footsteps. At the sight of her brownstone she imagined his relief.

“Here we are,” she said at the base of the stoop.

He looked up at the building, as if surprised by the destination.

“Well,” she said. “Thank you for the day.”

“Yeah. It was fun.” He extended his hand for a formal shake, which she accepted while gritting her teeth.

“It was certainly memorable.”

Not bothering with a good-bye, she wheeled around and headed up the steps.

“Vivian.”

She grasped the banister. Against her irritation, she forced herself to face him. “Yes?”

“On Tuesday,” he said, his hands in his jacket pockets, “Ringling Brothers will be in town. I was wondering if you’d like to go. To see the circus.”

For years, uncertainties of the heart had left her emotions in a frenzy. As if riding the Cyclone, they had been twisted and turned, raised and dropped. She had no desire to revisit the turbulent ride.

“Before I answer,” she said, “I have to know why.”

“Why ... ?”

“Why you’re asking.”

The corners of his eyes creased. “I’m not sure I follow.”

She was aware of how brash she sounded, possibly neurotic, but the need for self-preservation trumped all else.

“Gene, the truth of the matter is, I like you. Very much. But from one minute to the next, I can’t tell what you’re looking for. If it’s only friendship, that’s perfectly fine. I’d just prefer to be clear from the start.”

He said nothing as he stood there, as one would do while strategizing an escape. But then he slowly climbed the stairs and stopped when their eyes became level. As he leaned in, her breath hitched in her throat. He hovered an inch away for a torturous, wondrous second before placing his mouth on hers. He tasted of butterscotch, or taffy, from penny candies at the pier. It was a perfect match to their kiss. Rich, smooth, and sweet.

“Does that answer your question?” she barely heard him say.

She dragged her eyes open, and nodded.

“Good.” He smiled at her. With the side of his broad hand, he caressed her cheek. “I’ve had eyes for you for a long time, Vivian. Just didn’t think you were ready for anything-with what Lu mentioned, about some old steady. And what you said after the USO. I sure wasn’t going to push if-”

Her finger gently touched his mouth. No reason to hear more. She slid her hands onto his shoulders and brought him in for a kiss. Though more intimate than the first, it had all the warmth and patience of lazing in the sun. All the comfort of a heated bath.

When they finally drew apart, his hands light on her hips, she reflected on the day, such an unexpected path. She could not keep from grinning.

“Pick you up on Tuesday?” he said.

Vivian agreed, reluctant to let him go. But he kissed her hand before descending the stairs and fading into the darkness.

Once he had disappeared, she turned for the door. Her hand was on the knob when a chill skimmed her spine. Not from the air, not from Gene. She surveyed her shadowed surroundings.

Somebody, she swore, was watching.