Our Fragile Hearts

“Winnie the Poodle?”

Piper nodded. “Yep. It’s a poodle and she likes Winnie the Pooh. Winnie the Poodle. Get it?”

I smiled. “Then that’s a great name.”

“I wish I could have a dog,” Piper said.

I looked up from the health information sheet I was trying to fill out. It’s really hard to fill out a questionnaire about someone’s health when you’ve only know the person for a few months. “Pipe, we talked about this. No animals. They’re too expensive. There’s shots and vet visits, not to mention food.”

Piper’s face deflated like a balloon popped with a pin. Poof! The happiness gone in an instant. “When I get older I’m going to get a dog. I’ll name her Linda.”

Piper’s chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. I knew a storm was brewing in her head and buckets of tears were about to rain down her cheeks. Still, I wasn’t about to agree to a dog. “Come here,” I said.

She slid out of her chair and walked to me. I looked into her eyes and brushed her hair back off her face. “I’m not saying you can’t have a dog because I’m trying to be mean. We just really can’t afford it right now.”

Piper sniffed.

“I need to finish filling out this paperwork. Why don’t you go play for a while?”

Piper nodded and went into the living room but positioned herself on the floor so she could see me while she played with her doll.

“Don’t worry, Linda.”

Every time I heard my dead mother’s name it startled me. It’s like that name is associated with fear and no matter how many times Piper says it my reaction is always the same. It makes me jump and wince. I looked up and watched as Piper hugged her baby doll. “I’ll take good care of you. And you can get a dog. What kind would you like? A Yorkie-Poo? They’re cute.”

I bit my lip and returned to filling out the paperwork. A form sent home from the PTO requested help for school activities. Spirit wear sale. Fall festival. Christmas candy fundraiser. I remember when I was in school I’d always wished my mom would be one of those parents who volunteered for homeroom activities. I remember one time we were going on a field trip and my teacher was looking for chaperones. I begged my mom to volunteer but she said she was too busy, and that was for moms who didn’t have anything else better to do. She did. She had to work two jobs to take care of me. That was a constant reminder. I looked down at the form and checked all of the boxes. I didn’t want to become my mother.

Chapter 4

Mary

The cleaning agency called to tell me they were sending someone the next day. They didn’t tell me much, other than that she was twenty-two and very thorough. I finished reading the paper and then called the florist to have flowers delivered to June’s funeral. She’d moved to Arizona shortly after my parents sent me away and the service and burial were there.

She still had relatives living in the area, which I guess is why the local newspaper carried her obituary. I didn’t plan on attending the service, but I thought a basket of flowers would be a nice gesture.

I showered and made it to my doctor’s appointment with five minutes to spare.

The nurse opened the door to the waiting room. “Mrs. McAlaster?”

I stood and followed her down the hall.

“You’re in room seven today. Do you think you could give me a urine sample?”

I nodded.

She pointed to the bathroom. “There are cups in there. Just leave the cup on the sink when you’re done and I’ll get it. Then go into the room and put on the gown. I’ll be right in to go over your family history.”

By the time I’d undressed and put on the soft pink cover-up that snapped in the front the nurse was knocking on the door.

“Come in,” I said.

“How have you been feeling, Mary?”

“Can’t complain. Little aches and pains here and there, but that’s to be expected for my age.”

The nurse proceeded to go over my family history. Ovarian cancer?

“No.”

“Breast cancer on your mother’s side?”

“Yes.”

“And you had one breast biopsy but that was, let’s see…” She scrolled up the laptop screen. “In 1997. And since then your mammograms have been normal.”

“That’s correct. The 1997 biopsy showed no sign of cancer. I had calcifications but was told they were nothing to worry about.”

She proceeded to go over my history. “And you’ve never been pregnant, correct? No miscarriages or abortions?”

I’ve always said no to this question, but something made me want to say yes. What did it matter now? Hadn’t I kept this secret long enough? Besides, Mother and Father and James were long gone. I kept the secret because they’d asked me to. They’d always been so worried about what other people would think. And I’d kept their secret, too. Again, because they’d asked me to. But the world had changed in the last fifty years. Nowadays women had children out of wedlock and men and women had same-sex partners and some of them had children, either biological or adopted. Sometimes, I wondered what it would’ve been like had I been born twenty years later.

I never had the chance to tell Teddy I was carrying his child. Mother found me throwing up one morning and cornered me in the bathroom. Teddy was on vacation with his family and by the time he’d returned my parents had sent me away. But sometimes I wondered what would’ve happened if Mother hadn’t found me and I had been able to tell Teddy. Would my life have turned out differently?

“Mary?” the nurse asked.

“Yes.”

She looked out over her glasses. “Yes, you’ve never been pregnant?”

“That’s correct,” I said, knowing that even now I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone the truth. The ghosts of Mother and Father and James still haunted me and I guess they would forever.

I suppose never having children is one of the reasons why I’ve done so much to help them now. I think about my daughter. What became of her? Did she grow up and become a mother? Was I a grandmother and didn’t know it? Did she ever try to find me? I’d thought about finding her a time or two, but gave up. I reasoned that not knowing anything about her might be better than learning something terrible. I had enough terrible in my life.

My doctor’s office was located next to the hospital. I’d often go over when I was out this way to look at the babies in the nursery.

I followed an older man into the elevator. “Third floor, please.”

He smiled. “That’s where they keep the babies, right?”

I nodded.

“Are you one of those grandma rockers?”

He must have noticed the puzzled look on my face. “You know, those older women who volunteer to cuddle the sick babies?”

I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I’d plan to find out.

I walked down the hall painted a creamy yellow and turned the corner. I wasn’t the only one visiting babies today. There were four others with their noses smashed against the glass wall. I walked over and peeked through the glass. There were seven babies lined up in two straight rows. The boys had blue caps on their heads and the girls wore pink.

“Aren’t they just darling?” a woman in a wheelchair said.

“Very.”

“Is one of them your grandchild?” she asked.

“No. I just came to visit. How about you?”

She shook her head. “Our grandson is in the neonatal intensive care unit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

She held up her finger as if she were about to lecture me. “But he’s a fighter. He’s getting stronger every day. He was just born a little too soon.”

The woman wheeled away and I went back to watching through the window. Their hands were so tiny and they all had such cute little bow lips. It still amazed me that something so beautiful had come out of me but I never got to see her. Oh, how I would’ve loved to hold my daughter’s tiny hand in mine. To cuddle and kiss her to pieces. A tear slid down my cheek. I turned and saw a nurse headed in my direction.

“Can I ask you something?”

She stopped.

“How do you go about volunteering to cuddle the sick babies?”

She smiled. “Follow me and I’ll get you some information on it.”

So I did just that.

Chapter 5

Rachel

The next day, I pulled up to the ornate wrought-iron gate, which looked like it belonged around a cemetery instead of a mansion. The huge house sat on top of a hill overlooking the city. I’d wondered about Mary. What was her story? Everyone has one. What was hers? Why did she live alone in a house bigger than a hotel? From the little I’d learned, her husband, who was at least twenty years older, had died long ago. She had no children but was a huge philanthropist in town. I’d googled her name and found a ton of stories about her donating huge sums of money to the library and various cultural arts organizations. But who was she really? I wondered.

I followed the long private road, which led to a cobblestone circular driveway, and pulled up in front of the massive stone steps leading up to the main entrance. I parked my car, feeling embarrassed my old Honda Civic with rust spots was sitting in front of such a grand house. It looked as out of place as I felt. I glanced left, admiring the beautiful three-tiered stone fountain hugged by pink flowering shrubs in the grassy area, and opened my car door.

I paused, gazing at the stately columns and imposing brick façade. I felt like I was about to enter a castle. I walked up the stone steps and approached the carved mahogany door. Just as I was about to ring the bell, the door opened.

“Hi! You must be Rachel.” Mary smiled.

Mary was elegantly dressed in white slacks and a periwinkle sweater that matched the color of her eyes. She wore her hair in a bob and it was cotton white, sprinkled with strands of gray.

I held out my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

She waved me in. “Now, don’t look too closely or you’ll see why taking care of this house has been too much for me.”

I followed her across the polished marble foyer, crème colored with black diamond shapes sprinkled throughout. We walked past the sweeping staircase, down the hall and into a sitting area. I did see some dust, but it honestly didn’t look too bad for a woman who had apparently been doing all of the work herself.

Mary sat down on the floral sofa and patted it with her long, slender fingers. “Please, sit.”

I chewed on my lip, puzzled by Mary’s strange request. She was paying me to clean, not to sit and chat.

“Are you sure you don’t have a floor that needs washing or a bathroom that needs cleaning?”

She pursed her lips, the color of a faded red rose. “Rachel, please. Sit. I thought we’d get to know each other first.”

I walked over and sat beside her. Mary pointed to the antique tea set on the cherry coffee table. “Would you like some tea?”

I didn’t want to be rude, even though I prefer coffee, and accepted the fine china teacup rimmed in gold and accented with pink roses.

Mary lifted the sugar bowl. “Would you like a cube or two?”

I picked up the tiny sugar tongs and dropped a cube into my cup, stirring it with the silver spoon Mary had handed me.

She sat back and sipped her tea. “Did you hear that storm last night?”

I nodded. “It woke up my sister. She hates storms. When it storms she usually ends up in my bed.”

Mary smiled. “I hate storms, too. Tell me about your sister. Does she look like you?”

I nodded. Despite having different fathers, my sister was a mini me, with her blonde, curly hair that hung in ringlets and framed her heart-shaped faced.

“A lot of people say we look alike, except her eyes are as bright as bluebells. I’d much rather have her blue eyes than my muddy brown.”

“Nonsense!” Mary waved her hand, adorned with a diamond the size of the sugar cube I’d just dropped into my tea. It caught the sun’s rays coming through the large window and glistened. “You have beautiful eyes. And they aren’t muddy. They’re chestnut.”

I sipped my tea. “Thank you.”

“Now, about your sister. What’s her name?”

“Piper Rose. She’s five and in kindergarten.”

Mary’s lips turned up. “Piper Rose. What a pretty name. And did she end up in your bed last night?”

“Yes. I didn’t sleep very well. She moves around a lot and always seems to end up sideways, her tiny toes digging into my back.”

The small smile on Mary’s face grew. “Enjoy those moments. They’re fleeting. One day here and gone the next. Just like the fringe tree in front of the carriage house. Yesterday, it was in full bloom. Then we had that terrible storm last night. Pea-sized hail and wicked wind so fierce it rattled my bedroom windows. And when I walked outside this morning, the fringes were gone. Poof! Just like that they were torn from the tree and scattered all over the ground.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I said, “when Piper’s tiny toes are scratching my back.”

Mary laughed. “Were you scared of thunder when you were little?”

I nodded. “Actually, my friend Claire and I spent some time living with an older woman. Her name was Evelyn. You remind me a lot of her, actually. Anyway, one night not long after Claire came to live with us there was a bad storm. Claire and I practically ran into each other when we’d both jumped out of bed to go to the other’s room. We ended up in my bed and we played a game to take our minds off the storm.”

Mary smiled. “A game?”

“Yes, sort of. Claire came up with it. She called it the alphabet game. We’d take turns drawing letters on each other’s backs. The one not drawing had to guess what the letter was. E’s and F’s and J’s and I’s were sometimes hard. You really had to pay attention.”

“Sounds like fun,” Mary said. “And are you and Claire still friends?”

“Yes. Miss Evelyn’s was the first foster home we were in together. We only got to stay with her once, though. The foster homes that followed weren’t much better than the places we lived in with our moms.”

Mary’s hand flew to her heart. “Oh, Rachel. I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you live with your mom now?”

“Oh, no. She died. That’s how Piper came to live with me. Or rather, I moved into the apartment she shared with my mom. I didn’t want Piper to end up in foster care like me. That’s why I dropped out of college so I could take care of her. Working for the cleaning agency allows me a more flexible schedule, which I need if I’m going to be there for Piper.”

“It’s great that Piper has you,” Mary said.

“I didn’t even know I had a sister until my mom died. I fled home when I was seventeen, as soon as I graduated from high school. I hated my mom for choosing the bottle over me, for not caring enough to stay sober so my life wouldn’t be a revolving door of foster homes.”

Mary hadn’t taken her eyes off mine. And in those eyes I saw shock and pity.

Mary sighed. “I’m sorry you had such a difficult childhood. I never lived in a foster home, but I didn’t have an easy time growing up. My father was very strict and, to be perfectly honest, he was a mean man. I was always amazed by how nicely he treated Mother and me when we were out in public. Everyone thought we had the perfect family. But they didn’t see what went on behind closed doors.”

“Sounds like we both got shortchanged on childhood,” I said. “So, yeah, like you said. Enjoy the little moments because they don’t last forever. Just like the fringes on your tree.”

Mary smiled. “That tree is probably my favorite spring-flowering tree. I love the Bradford pear trees lining the driveway and the weeping cherry trees circling the gazebo. And the dogwoods and saucer magnolias are pretty, too. But there’s something so dainty and fragile about a fringe tree. What’s your favorite tree, Rachel?”

“I like willow trees. My neighbor had a willow tree in her backyard and we used to play under its draping branches. The shade was nice, especially on a really hot day.”

Mary shifted on the sofa. “Willow trees always reminded me of umbrellas. Or fireworks. What do they remind you of, Rachel?”

“Pom-poms. Like the kind cheerleaders use.”

Mary arched her thin eyebrows, which had been noticeably filled in with brow pencil. “So you were a cheerleader?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fat chance. But I wanted to be. Never made the team. I’m about as coordinated as a moose walking in high heels.”

Mary laughed and returned to talking about trees. “Have you ever seen the giant sequoias in California?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never been outside of Pennsylvania.”

“My, are they big! And old. Thousands of years old.”

Mary’s eyes turned glassy and I wondered if I should change the subject. But she continued.

“Flies might live for days, tortoises and whales for hundreds of years, and trees, like the giant sequoias, for thousands of years. But eventually, they all die. No living thing, no animal or plant, can escape death.”

I listened as Mary poured some more tea. I wondered where she was going with this.

“So often in life we witness beauty too short-lived. Like the fringe tree. We wonder why the fringes can’t hang forever. Maybe what we should ask is why we didn’t enjoy the beauty while we had the chance.”

I mashed my lips together, considering whether to wade into the conversation. “It’s human nature, I think, to believe there’ll always be another day.”

“True,” Mary said. “But sometimes there isn’t. Sometimes wicked weather slams us unexpectedly and we’re caught off guard, standing in the drenching rain and rising water. Oh, I know everything in life has its own season – a time to be born and a time to die. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing the seasons could last longer.”

I sat my teacup on the cherry coffee table. Mary was making me uncomfortable. It was as if she was delivering a sermon meant just for me.

“Would you like more, dear?”

“No, thank you.”

“Rachel, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away in poetic mumbo jumbo. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.”

I held up my hand. “No. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just that I thought you wanted me to clean.”

“Another day. But today I just wanted to talk, to get to know you a little. Can you come tomorrow to clean?”

“I’m sorry. I have another house to clean tomorrow.”

“Can you come the next day?”

I checked the calendar on my phone. “Yes, that will work.”

“Excellent. We can have lunch together.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. Mary looked like she was about to cry.

“Unless you want to, of course,” I quickly added.

“Well, you have to eat, right?”

I nodded. “But please don’t go to a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. It’ll be nice cooking for someone for a change. Do you like tilapia?”

“That’s fish, right? I don’t like fish.”

“Oh, you must try tilapia sometime,” Mary said. “It’s mild. Doesn’t have that strong fishy taste. What’s your favorite food?”

“That’s easy. Steak. But I rarely have it because it’s so expensive. I eat a lot of pasta and hamburgers.”

Mary nodded. “I like steak, too. What’s Piper’s favorite food?”

“Pizza and chicken nuggets.”

Mary smiled. “I’ll have to have you and Piper to dinner some evening. I’d like to meet her.”

I held up my hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

Mary’s shoulders sank and her smile flat-lined.

Darn, I did it again. Said something before thinking. “I mean, I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

Mary shook her head. “It wouldn’t be any trouble. Besides, I’d enjoy the company. I hate eating alone.”

“Before Piper came along, I always ate alone. I miss it sometimes.” I looked away, thinking about how I divided my life into two eras, Before Piper and After Piper. I was struggling with the After part.

Mary poured some more tea. “Do you like to cook?”

I laughed. “No! If I could take a pill that had all the nutrients I needed to be healthy I would. I think I was the only kid in my seventh-grade cooking class that burnt the sticky buns. After that, the teacher made sure I was with a more skilled student. Before Piper, I pretty much ate whatever came out of a can or a box. But now I try to cook. For Piper. But she’s sneaky. She hates vegetables.”

Mary sipped her tea. “Was Piper excited for the first day of school?”

“She was scared,” I said. “Afraid she wouldn’t make any friends. But when I dropped her off at school, she met a girl in her class. They became fast friends.”

We talked some more about everything and nothing. I glanced at the antique cherry grandfather clock sitting in the corner. “I’d better go. I have some errands to run before Piper comes home.”

I stood.

“So you’ll come again on Friday, right?” Mary stood.

I nodded.

Mary walked me to the door. “Thank you, Rachel.”

I furrowed my brows. “For what?”

“For listening.”

As I drove away I glanced into my rearview mirror. Mary waved from the crack of the front door. I wondered what she was going to do the rest of the day. It made me sad to think she was all alone in that big old house. It was obvious she loved children and I wondered why she apparently had none.

Chapter 6

Mary

I watched as Rachel pulled away from the house. I really liked her. It sounded like the poor girl had had it even worse growing up than I did. I’ve always been a decent judge of character, and she seemed like a hard worker. It was a shame she’d had to drop out of college, though. But I admired her for giving up her dreams to take care of her little sister.

And it was nice that she and Claire had maintained their friendship. I wished June and I had. It bothered me that I allowed us to drift apart. We chatted off and on over the years, but it was never the same. Life sometimes unfolds in ways we’d rather it didn’t, and before you know it too much time has passed to go back to the ways things were.

I carried the tea set into the kitchen and washed the dishes. Then I sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out the paperwork I’d picked up at the hospital. I had to fill it out and return it in order to volunteer in the neonatal intensive care unit. I learned that when nurses are busy with other patients and parents cannot make it to the hospital, volunteers step in. They hold the babies, sing and coo to them, rock them and treat them as if they were their own. It sounded like a volunteer position I’d love. But first, I had to fill out the paperwork and undergo a thorough background check. I hoped it wouldn’t take long because, after seeing the teeny tiny babies in the NICU, I wanted to be able to help right away.

I knew James couldn’t have children. He’d told me that the day he proposed to me. We were sitting on the bench in front of the fringe tree.

“Mary,” he had said. “We’ve been going out for months and I know you don’t love me, but I can give you a comfortable life. I need a wife, someone who will be by my side in public and take care of this house and grounds. I promise I’ll be good to you. You can have anything you want. New furniture. New wardrobe. Anything.”

It wasn’t how I’d imagined being proposed to. It was more like a plea or an offer. While James and I were fond of one another, it was obvious neither of us was in love. He continued making his case for why getting married would be advantageous to both of us.

“I’m not home much and I work a lot, so I wouldn’t be in your way and you’d have your own space. As long as everything is taken care of, I’ll be happy.”

I looked into his eyes. “What about children? Can I have children?”

James sighed. “There’s something I have to tell you. When I was young, I got hit hard in the groin. I’m unable to father children.”

I gulped. “But you can, uh…?”

“Yes. But I can’t give you what you most want.”

“But we could adopt, right?”

James nodded. “If that’s what you want, of course.”