C
HAPTER
53
A
t 4 a.m. Remy and John hurried into the emergency room and found Piper, Nat, and Sailor all dozing and Birdie watching
Casablanca
on the waiting room TV. When she saw them, she got up and gave them both hugs. “I'm sorry I ruined your weekend.”
“Don't be silly,” Remy said.
“He just came out of surgery,” Birdie said, quickly updating them. “I didn't call you back yet because there's no service in here.”
Their conversation roused Piper and Sailor, who smiled sleepily and stood up to give hugs, too, but Nat seemed dead to the world.
“How was the reunion?” Sailor asked.
Remy looked at John and smiled. “It was fun.”
“That's it?! âFun'?” Sailor teased. “That's all we get?”
“For now,” Remy said.
“Well, I'm going back to see how David's doing,” John said, looking at Birdie, “and to see if we can't get you back there, too.”
“Thank you,” Birdie said, “and thank you for coming home.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and smiled. “Anything for you.”
They all settled back into their chairs to wait, and Remy turned to Birdie. “So, what happened? What was David doing?”
“He was eating pizza,” Birdie said, “and he just started having chest pains.”
“And Birdie gave him CPR,” Sailor announced proudly.
“You did?! I would never be able to give CPR,” Remy said, shaking her head. “I would panic and just sit there and cry.”
“That's pretty much what I did,” Birdie said, “but the emergency dispatcher guided me through it.”
“And the doctor said she probably saved his life,” Sailor added.
Remy smiled and gave her sister a hug. “That
is
truly something, Birdie.”
Birdie smiled. “I just did what I was told . . . for once.”
They laughed and then all eyes turned to Remy. “Well?” Sailor pressed. “Was it as awful as you expected?”
“Not at all,” Remy said. “We had a good time.”
“How was the reunion?” Piper asked.
“We only ended up going to one eventâthe dinner reception on Friday. There were other events on Thursdayâwhich I didn't realize because I didn't read the packet, but as it turned out, one event was enough.”
“What did you do yesterday, then?” Birdie asked.
“We had breakfast at the innâwhich was lovelyâthey have a dog that reminded me of Bailey.” When she said this, Sailor and Piper looked at each other but didn't say anything. “And then, we went to a brewery for lunch, a winery, and hiking on the Robert Frost Trail.”
“What did you do for dinner?”
“We went out for pizza . . . because John had a craving,” she added, smiling at Piper. “And last night,” she added, turning to Birdie, “we were just sitting on the porch talking when you called.”
“It
does
sound like you had a good time,” Sailor said. “Especially the winery and the brewery.”
“Well, we had some excitement here, too,” Piper said, looking at Birdie.
“You mean more than David?” Remy asked.
Piper nodded. “Bailey took off Thursday night and got lost, and we spent all day Friday putting up posters and looking for her. We didn't find her until Friday night.”
“Oh no! Poor thing!” Remy said, and then she frowned. “Hold on! If she took off on Thursday, how come no one told me? I was still home.”
“Because we thought you wouldn't go,” Sailor said.
“I would've gone.”
“No, you wouldn't have,” Nat murmured, opening one eye.
Piper elbowed him. “Have you been listening this whole time?!”
“Do you really think a person could sleep through all this?” he asked, and then grinned at Remy. “Hi, Remy.”
“Hi, Nat.”
Just then, John appeared and motioned for Birdie to follow him. Birdie walked down the hall beside him, her heart pounding, and when she stood in the doorway of the ICU and saw all the tubes and monitors crisscrossing her husband's body, she caught her breath. “Oh, dear Lord,” she murmured as tears filled her eyes, “please take care of him.”
“He's going to be fine,” John assured her, “but he probably won't wake up for a while. He needs rest.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I'll leave you alone.”
Birdie nodded and walked tearfully over to sit next to David's bed. She watched his heartbeat steadily blipping up and down on the monitor, and she listened to it beep every few minutes, checking his blood pressure and pulse. “Oh, David,” she whispered, “I'm sorry I've been such an old shrew. I can't remember the last time I was actually cheerful around youâor anyone else, for that matter.” She shook her head. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I have so much to be thankful for and yet I go around being unkind and intolerant to everyone . . . but especially you.”
She reached for his handâthe strong hand she knew and loved so muchâthe hand that held tiny birds with the gentleness of a whisper; the hand that stroked Bailey's head so lovingly; the hand that knew how to fix anything . . .
and
how to give wonderful back rubs. “Oh, David, if anything happens to you, I don't know what I'll do,” she said, her eyes blurry with tears. “I'm so sorry this happened, and I don't care if we never make love again. I just need you by my side. We've been through so much together and you're always the strong one, you're always the one holding me up when I feel like I can't go on.” She brought his hand to her lips and then rested it against her cheek. “Please get better so you can come home . . . because if you don't,” she whispered in a voice choked with emotion, “Bailey will die of a broken heart . . . and so will I.”
P
ART
III
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
Â
âProverbs 31:25
July 3, 1964
Â
A
t the bottom of the steep wooden steps to the beach, they kicked off their sneakers and sandals and threw them in a pile. “Just like home,” Whitney said, shaking his head.
“I'm going to find a heart stone for Mom,” Sailor announced.
“Me too,” Piper added.
“Me, three,” Easton said with a grin. “I need to make up for dropping the pickle jar.”
Whitney listened to their voices calling back and forth over the sound of the thundering surf and looked down the beach. People were still walking along the water, playing Frisbee, and fishing; there was even a small group sitting around a campfire, but it was definitely getting dark.
“Dad, can we build a campfire again sometime?” Easton asked.
“Yeah, that was fun,” Remy added.
“Sometime,” Whitney replied.
“Can we make s'mores, too?” Piper asked.
He nodded and switched on his flashlight. “Okay, so the rule is: Everyone stays away from the water,” he commanded, shining his flashlight onto each child's face to confirm they understood. They all nodded, but as they walked toward the sound of the crashing waves, Whitney reached for Piper's hand and felt an odd shadow fall across his heart. “East, I want you to hold Birdie's hand.”
“Oh, Dad,” he protested. “I don't need to hold hands.”
“Yes, you do.”
“How'm I going to hold my flashlight
and
my pail?”
“Birdie will hold your pail.”
Easton groaned. “I'm not a little kid anymore.”
“I know you're not,” Whitney said.
“Don't worry,” Birdie consoled her little brother. “We'll work together and find the best heart stone.”
“Okay,” Easton said, his face brightening. He handed his pail to his sister, switched on his flashlight, and reached for her hand, and as the small group trooped along the water's edge, their bobbing flashlights looked like fireflies blinking in the darkness.
They walked in silence. The only sounds were the wind and the waves and the faint
click
of smooth stones and shells dropping into their pails. Twenty minutes later, Whitney looked back. The campfire was just a dancing flicker of gold, and the lighthouse looked as if it was miles away. “Time to head back,” he announced.
“Nooo,” Sailor protested.
“I haven't found a heart stone yet,” Easton moaned.
“Five more minutes,” implored Remy.
“C'mon, Daddy, just a little farther,” Piper pleaded, pulling him along.
Whitney relented. “Okay. Five more minutes, but then we turn around. We still have to walk all the way back . . . and the tide's coming in.”
Piper pulled him to a stop and bent down to examine a tiny gray stone that had been worn into the shape of a heart. “Look at this one!” she exclaimed. “It's perfect!”
“Let me see,” Easton said, shining his flashlight onto her palm. He nodded and then lingered, searching the sand, hoping there might be another.
“C'mon, East,” Birdie said as the rest of the family's flashlights bobbed away.
“Just a minute,” Easton said, pulling his hand free. He stepped closer to the water, and as he shone his flashlight onto a line of stones that had just washed in, a gentle wave circled his ankles and drifted out, pocketing his feet in cold, wet sand.
“Dad said to stay out of the water,” Birdie scolded.
“I'm fine,” he said, shining his flashlight onto another line of stones.
“C'mon, East. It's dark and you're too close to the waves.”
“Hang on,” he said, spying an aqua green stone glistening under the clear water. “I found one!” he shouted, but as he bent to pick it up, it tumbled away.
“Easton, let's go,” Birdie commanded.
“Just a minute. I have to find it again,” he said, crouching down to search the swirling water.
Birdie started to walk away, but hearing a loud thundering sound, turned back. A huge wave was rumbling out of the darkness. “Easton, look out!” she shouted.
Easton looked up, saw a wall of water churning toward him, and started to stand, but before he reached his full height, the rogue wave crashed over him, pulling him under.
“Easton!” Birdie shouted, rushing into the surf, plunging her arms into the frigid, frothy water, and looking around wildly, frantically searching . . . searching . . . praying for him to reappear. . . but there was no sign of him anywhere. She felt a powerful undertow wrap around her legs and try to pull her out to sea as swirling sand rushed from beneath her feet.
“Easton, where are you?” she screamed again and again, the icy fingers of terror gripping her heart. “Da-ad!” she cried, looking down the dark beach, but her voice was drowned by the wind and the crashing waves.
“Oh, God, help me!” she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
C
HAPTER
54
P
iper climbed onto the stepladder she'd just carried up two flights of stairs and, feeling slightly winded, reached up to unscrew the bulb in the rafters. “Oh my goodness! I'm more out of shape than I thought!” She screwed in the new bulb and discovered that having her arms over her head made her feel even more out of breath. “We need to get out running again,” she told Chloeâwho had followed her up the stairs and was now nosing around the dusty, cluttered attic. She climbed down and pulled on the string, and the new bulb flickered to life. “And there was light!” Piper said, smiling.
She set the dead bulb on a table near the door and made her way through the maze of boxes to her mom's hope chest. She lifted the top and the familiar scent of cedar drifted out. She carefully removed the tray of beads and the stack of letters tied together with faded red ribbon, picked up the stack of sweaters, and lifted out the old photo album. When she opened it, the photo of the five of them in front of Nauset Lightâthe one in which they had their arms around each otherâwas on top. She gazed at it and then put it on her dad's old mission chair. She closed the album and started to put it back, but then a small white and blue baseball cap tucked down between the sweaters caught her eye. She pulled it out and ran her fingers lightly over the faded red felt
B
stitched on the front.
“Mom? Are you up here?”
In the back of her mind, Piper heard Elias coming up the stairs. “Hey,” he said, standing in the doorway. “Do you know where the . . . Sheesh! There's a lot of stuff up here.” He started to pick his way through the boxes. “Mom?” he said softly. “What's the matter?” He came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, that's a cool cap. Whose was it?”
Piper swallowed. “It was Easton's.”
Elias frowned. “Your brother's? He was a Red Sox fan?”
She nodded, pressing her lips together. “He was. He loved baseball . . . and he was wearing it that night. . . .”
“The night he died?” Elias asked.
Piper nodded again, the memory of the long-ago night rushing back to her as if it were yesterday . . . the memory of standing on the beach, shivering and crying and feeling utterly lost while her father and sister screamed in anguish.
“Did you know it was up here?”
Piper shook her head, fighting back tears.
Elias picked up the old photo she'd put on the chair and studied it. “Is this you?”
“Yes, that's me.”
“Look how cute you were,” he teased, trying to get her to smile.
She laughed and brushed back her tears.
“And is this Easton?” he asked.
“It is. I always thought you looked like him when you were little.”
Elias nodded. “It's such a great picture. I love how Aunt Sailor is making bunny ears behind Aunt Remy's headâthat is so typical,” he said, laughing.
“It
is
typical,” Piper agreed with a chuckle. “
So
Sailor.”
“What are you going to do with the cap?”
“Put it back,” she said, tucking it back in her mom's hope chest.
Elias watched as she piled sweaters and letters and trays of beads on top of it and then shook his head. “My psychology professor would call that a classic example of literally burying a memory.”
“I'm not burying a memory,” Piper said defensively. “I just don't have time right now. We have a lot of people coming this weekend.”
“Which reminds meâI came up here to see if you know where the trimmer is?”
“It should be in the shed or in the garage. Did you ask Dad?”
“He's not hereâhe had to run up to the sanctuary.”
“He did? Doesn't he know I need help
here,
especially since you guys are going to Boston tomorrow.”
“He said he'd be right back,” Elias said, picking up the album that was still sitting on a box. He slowly turned the pages. “Are these pictures of Grandma and Grandpa?”
Piper looked over his arm and nodded.
“How come you never showed them to me?”
“I don't know . . . because I avoid coming up here.”
“I thought I got my height from Dad, but look at Grandpaâhe was pretty tall.”
“Six-foot-two,” Piper said, nodding.
“Where'd they get married?” he asked, studying the beautiful, old wedding photos.
“In Boston.”
Elias looked at her thoughtfully. “Mom . . . how come you and Dad never got married?”
Piper smiled. “I was wondering if you were ever going to ask that question.”
“I've always wonderedâit's kind of odd to have parents who love each other and who've lived together but never married. All of my friends think you
are
married.”
“And how come you never told them we weren't?”
“They never asked.”
“They never asked . . . and you never volunteered the information because you didn't want them to know.”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug.
Piper nodded. “Well, my dear, life is complicated . . . as are relationshipsâas I'm sure you're figuring out. Your dad did ask me to marry him . . . on a couple of occasions, in fact, but I wasn't ready. I guess I found the idea of being wholly committed to one person a bit frightening because . . . what if something happened? What if I lost him?
“But then, when I was pregnant with you, something changedâI felt that I
was
ready. I was so full of love for you . . . and he was part of you, and as I felt you growing inside me and my love growing for both of you, I began to think I was ready to take a chance, but then, your dad never asked againâI guess he was tired of being turned down.”
“How come you didn't ask him?”
“That's a good question,” she said, smiling, “and I don't know the answer. Why don't we go see if we can find that trimmer?”
Elias nodded, still holding the album. “Is it all right if I bring this downstairs so I can look at it some more?”
“Of course,” she said, tucking the black-and-white photo under her arm to take down, too.