Buffy Andrews - Our Fragile Hearts

“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.