Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Vera Ingleby
“Always remember that friends are the family chosen by your heart.”
Tallulah
I’d been wrong about Mary Joy sleeping through the night.
She woke up around three a.m., bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as though she hadn’t had a near-death experience not even twenty-four hours ago.
The resilience of children would never cease to amaze me.
When she woke, she’d been starving. Absolutely famished.
I quickly changed her diaper, then carried her downstairs, where light glowed in the kitchen, guiding us—Papaw always left the light above the stove on at night.
I’d buckled her into her high chair, warmed a bottle, then triple-checked all the ingredients on the rice cereal box. And the yogurt container, too.
When I retrieved a bowl of strawberries from the fridge, I glared angrily at the nearby carton of eggs, as if it were at fault for what had happened.
I’d been researching egg allergies all night.
It was going to be a whole new lifestyle for us, and I had a lot to learn, but I was more than willing. Anything to keep Mary Joy safe.
As she banged a spoon on her tray, I put on some music—not Gilbert and Sullivan—just to chase away the quiet. I made a big pot of coffee, grateful the new machine was set up, because I had the feeling I’d need all the caffeine I could get today.
I hadn’t slept.
I’d known I wouldn’t.
My eyes burned with exhaustion. I was tired to my soul.
After Mary Joy ate and played and showed off her sitting skills, I tried putting her back to bed.
At four.
At five.
At six.
She simply wasn’t tired. I blamed the steroids she’d been given at the hospital.
When the sun came up, we got dressed, and I tucked her into the baby carrier, needing her near, and took her outside. I walked to the sun garden and back, hoping Juliet would see us and come out, say hi, let me hug her.
Vera’s garage apartment remained dark, however. Her house, too. I couldn’t remember if I’d congratulated her on her three blue ribbons yesterday, so I made a mental note to pop by later with the girls. Maybe bring some flowers from the garden.
I did stop and chat for a while with Mr. Daniels, who’d come rushing out to see Mary Joy, and to tell us how happy he was to see her and know she was going to fully recover. He was a sweet old man. I was going to miss having him as a neighbor when we moved.
On the way back to Papaw’s, I’d received a text from Miss Edie, sending her love to Mary Joy.
We texted back and forth for a few minutes, and she mentioned she’d be back in a few days now that her mama was on the mend and promised that Mary Joy would never be exposed to eggs while under her watch.
It was a relief to know how much she cared.
After that, I walked Mary Joy around Papaw’s yard for a while, pointing out birds, showing her the flowers.
I mused aloud, telling her that we ought to take cuttings from his garden so we’d also have pieces of him, of Mamaw, with us at our new house.
I talked about the Library House a lot, told her about her bedroom, and how I envisioned soft tangerine walls, a mural of woodland animals, and twinkle lights hung around the room, because I knew how much she loved them.
Of course talking about woodland animals reminded me of Jake’s tattoo.
Which reminded me of him.
I needed to text him. Or call. Or maybe find out from Evanthe where he was staying and pay him a visit, bring him some shortbread cookies and my eternal thanks.
If he was still in town.
I was in the front yard, introducing Mary Joy properly to Bill—letting her touch his bark—when I heard a soft “Hey.”
Juliet stood on the sidewalk, holding two coffee cups.
She looked a little like a zombie, with her wild light brown hair, pale face, sad green eyes. She was wearing pajamas I didn’t recognize—probably her sister’s.
She said, “I wasn’t sure if the new coffee maker had been set up yet.”
“It has, but I can always use more coffee. Thank you.” I went to hug her, and did so carefully, considering the mugs and Mary Joy. “It’s good to see you. I was worried.”
We walked to the front steps and sat down.
“Sorry I didn’t text back. I just—” She shook her head. Desolation radiated from her, making me want to cry. Again.
Mary Joy lit up at seeing her and reached her arms out of the carrier. I smiled, put down my coffee, and pulled her out. I didn’t even ask Juliet if she wanted to hold her—I simply passed her over.
After setting her mug aside, Juliet wrapped her arms around the baby, held her close, swaying slightly. “I’m so glad she’s okay.”
“Me, too. Are you?” I asked. “Okay?”
“I don’t think so,” she said after a moment, her voice breaking.
I scooted closer to her. “It was a scary day. Give yourself time to sort it out, process.”
She rested her cheek on Mary Joy’s head, rubbed her back, and quietly told me about hearing thunder, how the park had reminded her of her grandfather, and how the panic began before she’d even seen Mary Joy was in trouble.
“I pride myself on taking care of people, on being strong, capable in an emergency. And I was barely able to dial a phone, Tallulah. I want to believe that my schooling and training would’ve kicked in, that it would’ve risen above my panic attack, but I’m just not sure.
I worry that if Jake hadn’t stepped in when he did, Mary Joy might’ve died—”
“Stop.” I put my arm around her. “You were the one who saw she needed help in the first place. If not for you, then she might not have gotten any help until it was too late.”
We sat in silence for a minute before she said, “I’m going to go home with my mom and sister.
Go back to therapy. I realize now I stopped too soon—something my therapist warned me about, but I thought I had my anxiety under control.
I don’t want something like this to happen again. I can’t be a good nurse otherwise.”
My heart was breaking, falling to pieces. “But, Juliet—”
She shook her head. “I have to heal me. I don’t want to live with this fear anymore.”
It was really hard to argue with that, especially when I could hear her pain. Feel it.
Mary Joy had fallen asleep, her hand at her mouth, her head resting on Juliet’s heart.
I held her gaze. “But you’ll come back, right? One day? For good?”
Swimming in the sadness, I saw the tiniest of sparkles in her eyes as she nodded. “I promise.”
Long after Juliet went back to Vera’s, I still sat out front. Mary Joy was back in her carrier, still asleep. Birds were singing and chirping in the trees.
Juliet would be back later, once everyone was awake, to pack and to say goodbye to Papaw and Katy. She’d be leaving tomorrow, at first light.
I tried to pretend I wasn’t crushed, because I knew therapy, picking up where she left off with her Michigan therapist, was what she needed most right now, but I was struggling with my emotions. I was going to miss her something fierce, and I knew my girls would, too.
I forced myself to remember that this wasn’t a goodbye.
It was an I’ll see you soon.
I’d been waiting to go back inside until the house woke up. It was already seven—long past when Papaw would normally be awake, puttering around. It seemed like yesterday had exhausted everyone.
My back rested against a column, and my legs were stretched out in front of me on the porch. I was scrolling through my phone, looking for advice on whether all egg products should be removed from the house, when I heard the jingle of dog tags.
My head came up. My heart started to thrum. I knew that sound. I swung my legs around, putting my feet on the top step.
Jake and Daisy were walking down the sidewalk.
When the puppy realized where they were, she raced ahead, straining the leash. Her backside wiggled. Her tail was a blur of motion.
I searched Jake’s face for any sign, any clue, of why he was here, then realized he’d probably come to check on Mary Joy.
Daisy veered off the sidewalk, trampling flowers to get to the front steps.
I said, “I see puppy training is going well.”
He cracked a smile, drew to a stop so Daisy wouldn’t climb the stairs. “I’m starting to think she’s training me to get used to this behavior.”
I put one hand on Mary Joy’s back and held out the other toward the puppy. She licked and kissed and wiggled. I rubbed her head until she settled down. “She’ll learn. She’s just a baby.”
Jake nodded to the steps. “Mind if I—”
“Not at all.”
He sat and Daisy explored. Jake smiled at Mary Joy, who had a drool bubble on her lips.
I was struggling to find the words to express what I wanted to say. How indebted I felt. The immense gratitude. Finally, I settled on, “I don’t really know how to thank you.”
“You just did.”
“It’s not enough. Not nearly.”
He looked at me. “It is.”
We watched Daisy trot around for a few moments before he said, “It seems Mary Joy is doing well.”
“As can be. I’m still watching for a secondary reaction.” Biphasic, it was called.
“So, you didn’t sleep.”
“Not even a wink.”
“You need to take care of you, too.”
“I’ll nap later,” I said. Maybe. I bumped him with my elbow. “So, a doctor?”
His eyes twinkled. “I was starting to think you’d never guess.”
“I got a big hint yesterday.”
“I don’t like to tell people right off the bat. Some don’t recognize boundaries and start telling me all their ailments or showing me their moles.”
I made a grossed-out face.
“Exactly,” he said.
The breeze rustled Mary Joy’s hair, and I smoothed it back down. “How does a doctor work from home?”
“I’m a radiologist. I work for an orthopedics and sports medicine group who don’t mind where I work from, just as long as I get the studies read in a timely manner.”
“I was thinking that maybe you specialized in pediatrics. So many people told me how cool, calm, and collected you were while taking care of Mary Joy.”
“Only on the outside,” he said. “I did a sub—an internship—in pediatrics when I was in med school. I’d been thinking at the time that I wanted to go into pediatric emergency medicine, but it wasn’t for me. Loved the kids, but I struggled with seeing them suffering.”
His soft heart was one of the things I loved most about him.
Love.
I tried to ignore the ache in my chest as I watched Daisy sniff around Bill’s trunk and said, “I was surprised you were at the festival at all. I thought you left town.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah, about that. Strange story.”
He looked at me and smiled, and I swallowed over the lump in my throat, felt the flutters in my heart as it said, It’s him. He’s the one.
And I told it, I know.
“After I saw you at the library, I only made it a couple of blocks before I started asking myself what I was doing. Where was I going? Why was I leaving town when all I’ve ever wanted is here?”
I could barely breathe, too afraid to believe what I was hearing.
He reached out, one hand curving over my cheek. “A chance at love. A family. Home. I’m sorry. Sorry for walking away, sorry for not realizing sooner.”
Tears rolled down my face. With a quiver, I said, “Better late than never?”
He leaned in and kissed me softly, and I tried to soak in the moment so I’d never forget this feeling. This joy.
“Does this mean you’re staying?” I asked, our foreheads pressed together. “Because I’m willing to try long-distance. I’d rather do that than not have you in my life at all.”
I told him how it had been Evanthe who made me realize what mattered most.
“I’m staying. But it’s funny you mention her,” he said, pulling away but taking hold of my hand, “because she told me to ask you about something.”
“About what?”
His thumb was making lazy sweeps across my skin.
“It goes back to Friday, when I was leaving town. As soon as I had the big realization about you, my truck started acting up. I just barely had time to pull it off the road before it stalled and I couldn’t get it started again.
Aunt Ev came and picked me up. Said my truck breaking down meant I was meant to stay here and that you could tell me all about it. ”
I couldn’t stop smiling. His truck had broken down.
But wait. That didn’t make sense. Unless he had been a little lost after his breakup and had been led to town. Led to me.
No, it didn’t quite fit with the town’s folklore, but I didn’t much care.
He was here.
He was staying.
“Well, you see, it’s all about love,” I began, “and how—”
Just then, I heard the soft hum of a familiar Gilbert and Sullivan song, and I cut myself off just as Papaw pushed open the screen door. His hair was damp, and he was grinning. “Daisy girl! Hello!”
Jake had the good sense to let go of the leash as Daisy bolted past us.
Papaw laughed with glee as he tried to hug the excited dog.
With a smile, Jake looked at me and quietly said, “It’s like watching a love story unfolding.”
My eyes once again filled with tears, remembering the first time he’d said those words, and I nodded. “I hope it has a happy-ever-after.”
“It will,” he said, a big, shiny promise in his gaze.
Papaw said, “Jake, you should stay for breakfast. Not sure what we’re having just yet, excepting it won’t be something with eggs.”
“I just might. I wouldn’t want to miss out on hearing the rest of a story Tallulah was telling me.” He glanced my way. “You were saying something about love.”
I stood and held out my hand to him. “We’ve got time. Loads of it.”