The Art of Secrets

By Alison Pierre

Thesis Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the

Requirements for a Degree in Writing

Creative Writing

May 1, 2012

Thesis Advisor: Prof. Vastola

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Thesis Abstract

The Art of Secrets is a fictional story that centers on the rocky relationship between 23-

year-old Pippa Bronson and her mother. Pippa, a recent college graduate living outside

the city, must return to North Carolina after receiving news that her mother is injured and

in need of help at home. Conflicted by her situation, Pippa must face the reality of

returning to the small town she tried to leave behind, while anticipating the distance she

has let grow between her and her mother after the disappearance of her father in Iraq

many years before. She is shocked to find her old living room in complete disrepair,

seeing the years that have passed in the mass of objects that her mother has accumulated

there. While helping her mother sift through the mess, she finds objects that bring up

memories from her childhood, forcing herself to question how things got this way. She

battles with a solution to the problem, unwilling to admit that it may be impossible to fix

a bond that has already been broken.

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The Art of Secrets

Ding…ding…ding. The brass buttons on the panel glowed hazy white as the

elevator slowly made its way up. A pre-recorded piano number drifted lightly overhead.

Pippa stood stiffly in the middle of the small space, clutching a folder to her chest as she

silently counted the floors, watching the numbers light up. Her hands were steady but her

mind was nerve-racked.

Finally, she prepared for the doors to open wide. She took a cautious step into the

room, her two inch heels sinking slightly into a plush grey carpet. The tiny woman at the

desk was simply a blur to her as she was ushered to the right and through a doorway. The

gold nameplate that stuck to the dark chestnut swung towards her, and she could briefly

read “Jack London: Exhibition Coordinator” etched on its surface. This was it.

She didn‟t remember it being very bright that morning, but the shock she received

from seeing the office blinded her. White carpet, white ceiling, white shelving across the

white walls. All she saw was white. Blinking twice, she adjusted her eyes and was

instantly drawn to the back center of the room. Dark brown desk? It seemed out of place,

but she wasn‟t going to nitpick about office attire with the man temporarily in charge of

her fate.

“Good morning!” the man she presumed to be Mr. London said cheerily, already

walking toward her. He had the largest mouth she had ever seen. She saw a speck of

black across one of his giant white teeth and tried to shake the image of a domino out of

her mind as she forced herself to make eye contact. His hand engulfed hers in a strong

grasp.

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“It‟s nice to meet you,” she tried to match his warm welcome perfectly. God, I

sound like a man, she thought, taking note of how low her voice seemed. “How are you

this morning?” she tried again, this time with a slight squeak. Too high, way too high.

“Pretty well, thanks,” he said calmly, luckily not seeming to notice the multiple

personalities in her speech. He motioned toward an uncomfortable looking chair in front

of his desk.

Pippa took a seat and gave the room a real look. The walls were empty and

besides three neatly lined piles of paperwork on his desk, Jack London had little to no

personality present in his office. She thought it strange that someone working for an art

gallery wouldn‟t at least have one painting or even a silly abstract kind of paperweight on

his desk.

“Alright let me cut straight to the point because I haven‟t got all day and I‟m sure

you don‟t want to spend your whole afternoon here either,” he flashed a quick smirk, his

words rushed out in a thick New York accent. “We have an exhibit coming up at the end

of April. It‟s a short one, just a week. We‟re showcasing some of the lesser known,

breakout kind of artists we‟ve stumbled across in the past few months. It probably won‟t

get much publicity, just trying to gain some time before the next big one, know what I

mean?”

She nodded stiffly, realizing she was holding her breath and imagined her face

paling as a result. She exhaled audibly.

“One of the guys who committed to the show is dropping out, and we can‟t have

that empty space, even for this. Now I‟ve taken a look at some of your stuff, and it‟s

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nothing that really excites me but I can‟t deny you got some room to grow. I like what

you work with in your sculptures, very modern. We normally wouldn‟t do this at the last

minute, but I can pull some strings for you…”

A shrill ringing sliced through his voice and Pippa envisioned her eyes popping

out of her head like a Sunday morning cartoon character, the unexpected noise lifted her a

few inches from her seat. She shot the white office phone a nasty look as its buttons

flashed in sync with the sound. Mr. London‟s hand hovered over the receiver as he

mouthed the word “sorry” and held up his index finger for her to wait.

“Heller Gallery, Jack London speaking,” he answered. It couldn‟t have happened

at a worse time. He was just about to offer her a spot in the show, she knew it. This

wasn‟t even at the top of her list and would probably not result in much advance in her

career, but it was the only place so far that had given her a chance. Though a simple

telephone call wouldn‟t derail him from the decision he was about to make, it certainly

ruined the effect.

With nothing in the office to distract her wandering mind, she instead focused on

his end of the conversation. She tried to listen, that is, but the ringing kept repeating

itself, overpowering his words so that she only saw his large mouth moving rapidly, saw

his head bend back in a half-laugh, but heard no noise.

She turned slightly in her chair to look back at the lazy receptionist who should be

answering the call, but when she did she saw no opposite end of the room, no door

slightly ajar to show the woman dozing off at her desk as Pippa expected. Instead she felt

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a light breeze as she looked out over Manhattan thousands of feet below her. Her white

leather chair teetered dangerously close to the edge of the carpet.

Panicked, she jumped, giving her chair the slight angle it needed to fall

backwards. Her mind went blank as her body instinctively jerked, and through the

brightness that engulfed her all she remembered thinking was how annoying that ringing

was as she felt herself fall through the air…

Pippa inhaled sharply as she woke from her dream, her arms flailing among the

tangled layers of covers on her bed. She blindly reached toward the alarm clock and hit it

twice, desperate to stop the horrible noise it was making. The noise sustained, but it was

quieter than she originally thought. She groggily opened one eye as the clock flashed to

8:03. In her half awakened state she swore it was sitting there contently smiling at her

through its digital boxy red numbers, knowing that she had somehow managed to

oversleep.

Aggravated, she kicked until she was free from the sheets. She looked to her right,

squinting through her cloudy vision as she tried to see if her roommate was in the other

bed. The covers lay slightly messy, but flat nonetheless. Of course she isn’t here, Pippa

though, she would have screamed at me to answer my phone by now.

The ringing paused for a second time, only to kick up again moments later.

Someone was intent on reaching her that morning and with her luck it probably wasn‟t

anyone she needed to speak with. She blindly extended her arm in the direction of her

makeshift bedside table, an old wooden chair without the backing, feeling for her glasses.

Her fingers closed around the delicate frames resting in the groove a person would

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normally be sitting in. She snatched them up, knocking over the six empty water bottles

lined neatly beside them in the process. They clattered to the ground like bowling pins.

Swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, she listened for the overworked

ringtone blasting from her junky Motorola. It was close, but muffled. She reached over to

switch on the tiny lamp she kept balanced on her table, allowing herself to turn the switch

three times before she realized her last light bulb had finally burned out last week. Using

the lines of sunlight coming through the missing sections of her blinds, she searched her

cluttered floor.

The small room was just barely large enough to fit two girls comfortably, and

Pippa had grown accustomed to the cramped lifestyle. When she moved to the apartment

three years prior, she had reluctantly given up the luxury of a dresser, using half of the

small shared closet and storage containers under her bed instead. A full-length oval

mirror clung to her wall, streaked with splotches of hairspray and dotted with perfume.

Evidence of dry erase marker ink stubbornly stuck to the edges as she often jotted down

phone numbers and reminders on the reflective surface. Small pictures were taped to the

top and bottom, one from her last day home as she and her best friend Hallie hugged each

other goodbye.

On this morning she looked at her small space and sighed. Rumpled t-shirts, faded

jeans, pages of sketch paper and books were all threaded together in a messy chain across

the floor. Though the room was small enough to clean up in one motion, she was so busy

she barely had time to do anything but stumble into the room and fall into her bed at the

end of the night. Pieces of her art rested atop the textbooks she hadn‟t opened in a year. A

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half-finished horse‟s head stared back at her, perched on a thick psychology hardcover.

Its gum wrapper and tissue papered face mocked her as she dug through the garbage in

her room.

She checked the pockets of pants and jackets and searched the inside of three

different purses. She snatched up the black apron she found under her table, tossing it on

her comforter as she would need it for her shift in a few hours. Peering under her bed, she

found hope in the dim light that hit the bottom of her mattress.

Instinctively she hit the green button to answer the call, but regretted doing so

when she saw the name dissolve seconds after. She would rather have voluntarily buried

the phone under all her mess than talk to Caroline first thing in the morning.

“Hey what‟s up,” she croaked, her voice gravelly from the dry room. She moved

aside some of the toppled water bottles, finding one that had a few sips left and washed it

down.

“Oh I‟m sorry, did I wake you up?” her sister responded, a condescending note in

her voice, not apologetic in the least.

Walking over to the mirror, Pippa set the phone down on a nearby shelf and put

the speaker on. Running a hand through her tangled hair, she scrutinized her appearance

in the reflection, looking for a way to appear presentable in less than twenty minutes.

“Of course not,” she replied, “I‟m just, uh, I just had a little cough the past few

days. Can‟t shake it. Listen Car, I appreciate your endless attempts to talk to your baby

sister but I‟m just about to…do something. Something legitimate though, I‟ve got like an

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appointment that I‟m going into now so can I maybe call you back in a few? A few as in

a few hours though, because actually after this I…”

“Pippa, Mom‟s in the hospital,” Caroline‟s words streamed through the phone too

casually.

“Um, WHAT…?” she screamed back, unable to find any other words.

“Stay calm, everything is fine…” the rest of her sentence was muted as Pippa

rushed to grab the phone and return it to her ear, wanting to make sure she got every

word correct.

“What did you say? Hospital? Hospital? Is she okay? What happened? Did she

just go there now or did you..?”

“Pippa!” her sister had been trying to interject. “Pippa she‟s fine, I promise. Calm

down.”

“But what happened? Did she..”

“I said calm down, can you take a deep breath and relax and then I‟ll tell you?”

she said in an overly motherly voice. Growing up, Caroline had always been the mature,

maternal kind of sister that taught her how to hopscotch and pass algebra. She was always

the teacher‟s pet, always in cahoots with their mother when Pippa and her brother were

doing something she thought was wrong. Pippa always begged for mercy on her future

real children, but ever since Caroline became a mother three years ago she seemed to

have perfected the role. Pippa secretly thought she was just blessed with perfect children

because they knew the world would turn to hell if any of them stepped out of line.

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Rolling her eyes, Pippa exaggerated a deep exhale and paused until her sister was ready

to speak again.

“Okay, that‟s better. As I was going to say, she‟s fine. She got into an accident

last night but she‟ll be released soon, maybe tomorrow. They‟re only keeping her another

night to run a few more tests. She hit her head, but luckily the passenger side didn‟t get

much of the impact so she walked away with just a few bruises and…well, she didn‟t

walk away, she fractured her ankle which is actually why I‟m calling.”

“Passenger side? So it was an accident like a car accident? She wasn‟t driving?

Who was she with? And what do you mean that‟s actually why you‟re calling, you

weren‟t going to otherwise?” A thousand questions ran through her mind and out her

mouth before she was able to process them herself.

“Well no, of course I was going to call to tell you anyway, don‟t be silly. I would

have called last night when I found out, but she made me promise I‟d wait until the

morning because she knew you would be working. I mean if you were easier to reach

then maybe you could have been the first to know...” she criticized.

“That‟s fine Car, but who was driving if Mom wasn‟t?” Pippa asked, suspicious

that her question had been avoided on purpose and feeling a growing rage at whoever

was responsible for the accident. Pippa and her mother didn‟t speak to each other often so

she wasn‟t surprised to find she wasn‟t close to being the first to know. But the image of

her mother in the front seat of whatever kind of car it was, the muted gasp of shock if she

saw the other car, or tree or whatever they hit, made her feel an unexpected sense of

protectiveness.

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“Ehmm, I‟m not sure actually,” Caroline fibbed. Pippa knew she was lying. In her

mind she was far too good to ever tell a lie, but whenever she tried you could always

catch it.

“You‟re lying,” she said bluntly.

“I‟m not lying Pip, there were too many other things to be concerned about at the

moment. I didn‟t ask. That‟s her business. After all, it‟s not my place to say even if I did

know…but that‟s not why I called. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Pippa wasn‟t sure what else could be an appropriate follow-up conversation. Oh

by the way, Mom’s in a cast lying in a hospital bed but let’s talk about Easter dinner

coming up. My place or Grandma’s, cast your vote, she thought sarcastically.

“Are you ready to talk now or would you prefer I call you at a more convenient

time?” Caroline was back to her formal tone.

“Now is fine if you break it to me quick,” Pippa said, pulling a slightly rumpled

button-up over her head. She needed to get a cab by 9 at the latest and time was not on

her side. She put the phone back on speaker and looked for the heels she remembered

wearing in her dream, but only finding the left one.

“Like I said, Mom fractured her ankle. She‟ll recover, obviously, but …you know

she‟s getting older and she can‟t really recover as quickly as you or I would,” she

sounded slightly concerned. Her sister always exaggerated her mother‟s wellbeing. In

truth, their mother was extremely physically healthy for her age. It gave her hope that

when she reached her late 50‟s she would be as well off as her, but the receipts for Main

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Moon takeout and Domino‟s that littered her floor gave her second doubts as she

continued to try and locate her missing heel.

“Mhmmm,” she said louder than normal.

“She‟ll have to be on crutches for at least a month I‟m guessing. You know how

crowded the store is with all that stuff, it‟s hard for her to get around it to begin with and

she‟s worried about keeping up with things. She says she needs someone to help her out.

We don‟t want her to lose out on business, right?” she asked, the answer already obvious

in her voice.

“Yes!” Pippa yelled much louder than she intended as she found and slipped on

her right heel. “I mean, no. Sorry that wasn‟t for you…no obviously we don‟t want that.”

She grabbed a few bobby pins and set to work on her hair, pulling it in different

directions to try and make it lay flat.

“I‟m listening, I promise,” she managed to add, trying to keep the pins between

her lips as they bobbed up and down. Both her hands were engulfed in thick brown hair.

“Okay, if you say so,” Caroline said doubtfully. “I‟ll cut straight to the point

because I haven‟t got all day and you already said you had a…appointment, or

something?”

“Interview,” she interrupted.

“Right. Anyway…Mom is worried about getting around by herself the next few

weeks. So we were talking and it came up that…maybe you could do your part and stay

with her for a little while, until she‟s back on her feet.”

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Pippa spit all six perfectly balanced bobby pins out of her mouth. She stood

before her dirty mirror knowing she looked like a fool, with her mouth wide open and her

hands in her hair. Now she just wanted to tug at it like people did when they were furious.

“You, what?!” Her five year old phone flickered as it often did, though this time

she wondered if it was shivering out of real fear. “I can‟t believe you discussed this with

her without even talking to me first. Now it‟s going to make me look bad when…”

“When what? When you don‟t go home? Are you really going to telling me that?

It‟s our mother for gosh sakes.”

Pippa took a few steps away from the phone now lying silently beside her,

waiting for her answer. She starting to pace back and forth but the clutter on her floor

only allowed for so much room to angrily stalk about. She needed to tread carefully, not

wanting to say the wrong thing and make her situation even trickier to get out of.

The truth was that the idea of going back home for any period of time made her

very uneasy. She hadn‟t been to the house she grew up in in almost three years. After

moving to the city, she saw the family as a whole only a handful of times for holidays or

prearranged get-togethers. These outings, at the request of her mother, had taken place

somewhere other than their home, something that Pippa had never seen as unusual. After

she moved out, her mother finally had the place all to herself. Maybe she didn‟t want

visitors, maybe she enjoyed the freedom, or maybe she was leading a secret life. Pippa

wasn‟t quite clear on the reasoning but she was sure of one thing; she didn‟t want to be

the one to break the pattern, especially not alone.

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When Caroline got married all they heard was, “It‟s Car‟s first Christmas as a

wife” and “Caroline hasn‟t had an Easter dinner at her new dining room table yet, let‟s all

go there.” The rest of the time was split between your choice of distant relatives. The idea

that no one seemed to want to visit her mother started to surface in her mind. She almost

felt something like guilt, but then decided she must just be hungry. The thought alone of

staying in her old room again, seeing how unchanged it was compared to the person who

used to sleep in it nightly, made her unexpectedly queasy.

“I‟m not saying that, exactly…” she said. “This just surprised me, that‟s all. I

haven‟t been home in so long I‟m not sure how I would feel going back there now. Don‟t

you think it‟s a little awkward?”

“Yes, I do. Which is exactly why you need to do it,” Caroline stated.

Pippa rolled her eyes, her short lived patience quickly wearing off. She didn‟t

understand how a fractured ankle required her to hop on a plane and go back to their

dead-end town. What would she do? Hand her mother crutches every morning and

temporarily make the house and store handicap accessible? Their mother owned one of

the only successful antique stores in town, always a bit on the messy side.

“I get that Car, but you two seem to be overlooking a few key factors. I can‟t just

go and tell work that I‟m road tripping it for a few weeks.” She was just your average

worker at a local café, but they needed her regardless.

“I‟m sure they would understand if you told them the situation.”

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“No, actually, I‟m not sure they would. Sorry. It was a nice idea,” she tried to

conclude the conversation quickly, remembering how late she was already running.

“I want you to talk to your boss and see what she says, unless you have another

excuse lined up. Then I‟d like to hear that one too and we can find a way to work it out,”

Caroline put on her mothering act.

“Can‟t someone else do it? You, even?” Pippa started getting desperate.

“You really think I can stay with Mom for a month? I have three kids to take care

of! She‟s an hour and a half away, I can‟t make that commute every day and, oh yeah, I

have a real job, remember? The whole point is to have someone there that Mom won‟t

have to pay, and I can‟t afford to go a month with no salary.”

“You think I can?” Pippa shot back at her. “Even if…if…I got the okay from

work, do you think I have enough to cover rent for the month without being up here?”

“No, I don‟t,” said Caroline, “but I obviously already thought of that and Mom

and I will take care of it. There‟s literally nothing you need to do other than go.”

She hadn‟t considered this possibility. It was insane. Pay for my rent? She

thought. Why would they do that? This all seemed extremely exaggerated. She wondered

if this was another vivid dream she was about to wake up from, hoping that it was so she

could start the day over again.

“I get it; I‟m the only one in the family with no family of my own to take care of.

I‟ve been here for a year and nothing has come from it in your opinion, so of course I

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would be the perfect candidate to give up a life that everyone sees as not even having a

life. Did I leave anything out?” she said dryly.

“Nope, I think that was what I said to Mom too. Abridged, of course.” Caroline

had a smirk in her voice that she didn‟t dare try to hide.

“Well that‟s great. I really have to go sis, it‟s been great catching up,” she said,

about to hang up the phone.

“Wait, wait. Just think about it and call me back, alright? And Pippa? Mom really

misses you. I‟m not trying to sway you to my side, but at some point today try to really

think about that. Before you try to weasel your way out of this completely, that is.”

Before she had the chance to retaliate, Caroline was gone. Pippa felt defeated in a

battle that only lasted 20 minutes. She took one last look in the mirror, though she had no

energy left to fix anything wrong with her appearance if she noticed something at all.

Pushing the confrontation out of her mind, she needed to focus on the obstacle

before her. Grabbing her keys from her purse, she gathered her portfolio and headed out

the door to the busy street four floors below.

Within two hours Pippa had found and entered the building from her dreams.

Though it wasn‟t quite as tall as she had pictured in her sleep, her hopes were so high the

size of the building did not matter. Yet after cramming into the elevator with five other

men, all speaking intently into the iPhones attached to their ears, her positive attitude

soon came to a crashing halt upon meeting the receptionist.

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It took ten minutes for the raspy voiced woman behind the desk to understand

why she was there, and when it was finally revealed that Pippa indeed did not have a

legitimate interview set up with Jack London, the woman took pleasure in tearing just a

little bit more of her pride away.

“I‟m sorry sweetheart but Mr. London won‟t see anyone unless he confirms it,

have you tried to contact him by phone or email?” she said, her voice sounded like Fran

Fine after thirty straight years of heavy smoking.

“Why yes, I did. A few times,” Pippa said through clenched teeth. She had

emailed the man a handful of times and left voicemails. She had sent a letter and copies

of her work. And still she had heard nothing. She thought for sure he would be willing to

see her. After all, her father had been offered a job with Mr. London right when he

became the director of the company. But many years had passed since then. For all she

knew, all memory of her father had been erased from his mind just as easily as he was

erased from her life.

So Pippa again found herself on the sidewalk, on the wrong side of the tinted

windows that glared down at her. She decided to head to Bluebird for a cup of coffee well

before her shift started.

Thoughts whizzed through her mind like the blurred yellow taxi cabs that passed

her by, forming and disappearing too quickly before she could make out what they were.

Maybe deep down she had never expected her plan to work. All her life people had said

that if you just work to put your foot through the door, things would happen. She had

attempted to put her foot through Mr. London‟s door, but that only resulted in Fran

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threatening to have her escorted out by security. The woman‟s baggy skin and sunken

features from too many years of sleeping with makeup on seemed too intimidating even

for Pippa to challenge.

When she arrived at the café, Pippa observed the tiny coffee shop as an outsider

before she crossed the street. It was the first place that had given her a job when she

moved to the big city that was so unlike her small town in North Carolina.

Lisa and Debbie seemed scattered throughout the back counter, both weaving

through each other to take orders and blend drinks. A long line formed, working its way

towards the door. She liked to observe the people sitting at the tables as they happily

gossiped and laughed. Today she saw people sitting alone, reading the Sunday paper and

looking grumpy. A man in line appeared to be yelling at Lisa, possibly urging her to go

faster as he checked his watch and angrily looked at the ceiling.

A woman at the station for sugar hurriedly dumped half-and-half into her cup. As

she reached for a packet of Sweet N‟ Low, she knocked over the white Styrofoam cup,

spilling her caffeinated liquid all over the counter and on to the floor. Pippa watched as

the woman stood and stared at her mess, and though there were three dispensers of

napkins before her, she simply checked over each shoulder to see if anyone had

witnessed. Confident that it was busy enough, she grabbed a handful of the artificial

sweetener and fled the scene.

Pippa knew this happened daily at her job, multiple times. Yet the mixture of her

already subdued aggravation and the annoyance of what she just saw before her took over

in an instant. All of a sudden she thought how nice it would be to get out of the city for a

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little while, how much she needed a break from work, her roommate and her lack of job

opportunities, and how happy she was that Sweet N‟ Low woman happened to be

walking her way.

“Excuse me! Ma‟am, I have a question,” Pippa trotted over to the lady, her voice

making her sound much more innocent than she was.

“What?” the woman snapped at her, clearly not feeling generous although she had

just shared her coffee with an entire Sears countertop.

“Do you know which direction I can find the Keller Gallery?”

“Never heard of „em,” she began turning away.

“You know, artificial sweetener makes you fat. Stick with the raw stuff,” Pippa

said, an extremely serious expression on her face.

“…What did you just say?” the woman was genuinely perplexed.

Pippa said nothing and simply began walking in the opposite direction. When she

rounded the corner, she saw the woman had only just turned around to continue walking

and probably still contemplating what she had just heard. Pippa let out a mad laugh for

her small immature victory.

She headed for the subway, not wanting to walk all the way back to her

apartment. As she did, she pulled out her phone for the second time that morning.

“When do I make my presence?” she said coolly to her sister. Feeling like a heavy

weight had been taken off of her, though she had never noticed its pressure before, she

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walked on to the train and gripped the cold dirty bar above her head. If she wanted to

learn how to overcome obstacles like the one she had faced today, she‟d have to go back

to her roots and start with the one that had been allowed to form and grow stronger over

time.

Pippa walked into the airport, searching for the familiar face of her best friend.

She had called Hallie four days before, preparing her for the shocking announcement that

she would soon be returning to Bakersville in all her glory.

Hallie could not hide her excitement when she finally did catch hold of Pippa.

Jumping up and down madly, her dirty blonde curls bounced along in tune to her body.

Pippa decided that the warmer state had done her well, as she observed her friend‟s tan

legs against her white cotton dress. What I wouldn’t give for some color again, Pippa

thought. She refused to go to a salon and the multiple apartment building windows were

crawling with people that would die to see someone up on the roof of her building.

She had been vague with her friend on the phone about why she was coming

home, only telling her information she was sure the whole town had already found out.

She didn‟t know how much Hallie knew that she was still unaware of and used the hour

car ride to find out.

“Yeah of course everyone heard about the accident, it was right by that old cider

mill we always went to after school,” Hallie said, rehashing the details. “The car was

banged up pretty bad, it was lucky that your mom‟s injuries weren‟t more serious.”

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“She fractured her ankle though, I don‟t really see how this requires me to

become an in-home nurse for her,” Pippa thought out loud for the millionth time, her

surfing through the currents of air as she hung it out the open window.

“Walter offered to help her with everything but I think your mom just really

wanted you home. I don‟t know why but she just kept talking about you at the hospital.

Grace Freedmont, you know from Mrs. Sipe‟s class? She‟s a nurse there now so she told

me what happened,” Hallie confessed.

“Walter who?” Pippa said immediately.

“Oh, Walter…I can‟t remember his last name right now. Police officer, tall, dark

hair, used to come to our classes all the time in elementary school to do those

presentations. You must know him; didn‟t he work with…you know, you‟re dad? But

don’t you know him anyway?” Hallie stumbled upon the realization that her friend was

completely taken aback by his name entering the conversation.

“Should I know him is more like it.”

“I thought your mom would have said something…no? Oh, well, this is a little

weird. I think they‟ve been seeing each other for a while now. I mean it‟s not my place to

say anything but it‟s not really a secret, you know? She really didn‟t tell you?” Hallie

took her eyes off the road long enough to peek at Pippa‟s extremely stern expression.

“I guess I can‟t be surprised,” was all she could say. Her mother was bound to be

seeing a guy, and why would that be any of her business? Pippa never told her mother

when she went on dates either. It was that awkward gray area where emotions would

22

need to be shared in the conversation, and neither of them had seemed to learn how to do

that.

Part of her couldn‟t help but feel betrayed, though it wasn‟t personal betrayal she

really felt. Rather, Pippa felt a sense of hurt that was outside of herself. Her father had

been gone for ten years that December. Having joined the Marines directly after

September 11, the last time Pippa had seen him was in the very airport she had just

walked out of. Months went by and finally they heard that his camp had been attacked,

yet no sign of him was left, positive or negative. Pippa remembered the nights of waiting,

watching the news with her family in the hopes that the ongoing search for a clue would

result in some information. Was he still alive somewhere? Months turned to years, Pippa

eventually began high school and their mother reluctantly began packing his things in

boxes. The tantrum she had thrown the first time she saw her mother packing his worn

out Levi jeans was probably the first to start the ceaseless war in their home. Pippa

wanted to hold on, her mother wanted to let go. Neither of them had been on the same

side since.

And now her mother was dating. Maybe she would find out she had secretly

remarried? She contemplated telling Hallie to turn the car around so she could retreat

back to her lonely apartment fourteen hours north. But as the car turned down the street,

she was greeted with the red brick Town Hall and it was too late to change her mind. She

was finally home.

She wasn‟t in a rush to drop her things off at the house, and her mother had

insisted she stop by the antique shop before anything. The same tiny shops lined the

23

cobblestone sidewalks, probably still run by the same owners that had been there since

she was little. The pizza shop was still filled with the regular lunch guests, a group of

older men stood outside the tobacco store with fat cigars hanging between their lips and

the theatre still displayed only three movies at a time. Though it was only a less than a

three minute walk to the store, Pippa and Hallie found themselves constantly stopped by

people passing by, showering Pippa with hugs and insisting that she update them on her

life that very instant.

Pippa recoiled within herself even more, feeling cornered yet out in the open for

everyone to see. Why couldn’t they just forget about me, she thought to herself, forcing a

smile as the mailman tapped her shoulder and gave her a big welcoming hug. As much as

she loved to use her projects as a conversation piece, she could only stand so many more

“I‟ve saved some trash for you to turn into a masterpiece,” jokes that she was always

bombarded with. Hadn‟t anyone new moved here in the past three years? She could only

hope.

They crossed the street to Bronson Antiques, the only one of its kind in the tiny

shopping area. The stairs creaked under their weight as they walked up to the porch. Old

furniture, boxes of handbags and wind chimes were strewn across the chipped blue

painted deck. A small wooden sign on the door read “Welcome, We‟re Open” and Pippa

knew it would never read anything less, because she had chipped away at the opposite

side until it was unreadable a long time ago. But still her mother kept it hanging.

With a deep breathe of forced confidence and an affectionate hand squeeze from

her friend, she pushed the door open. A bell jingled on the other side, much too loudly.

24

That was a new addition; I wonder if it was a trap just for me, Pippa thought miserably.

And as if her fear was answered, she soon heard the step and thump that she could only

assume belonged to her mother and her newly plastered ankle.

Yet the boy, who reached her first, not only took her by surprise because he

seemed to be working there, but because she knew him. Everything about Logan seemed

to have gotten longer in the past three years; his height, his hair and the intense stare she

received when their eyes met.

“Hey Pippa,” he said slyly, clearly not thinking about the million times Pippa had

denied him in the past. Yet that was all she seemed to occupy her mind when he stood

before her.

“You‟re still here?” she blurted out.

Her face slightly flushed, he didn‟t respond to his question. The two shared a

silence that was only broken by Hallie, who Pippa had nearly forgotten was standing

directly behind her.

“I‟m going to go get your mom,” she said in to Pippa‟s ear.

She took one last look at Logan, still wondering what he could possibly be doing

there, and went with Hallie to the back of the store. There they found her mother, using a

crutch to move aside a box of books near an already packed bookshelf.

“Hi sweetie!” Leianne Bronson didn‟t try to hide the excitement she felt at seeing

her youngest daughter again.

25

“Hi….” she said back, not knowing how to address her and trailing off

awkwardly. She couldn‟t actually remember the last time she had referred to her as

“Mom” to her face.

“Come over here and give your mother a hug,” she said, opening up her arms.

Pippa went to them and returned a stiff hug. Her mother swayed back and forth with her

for a moment, not seeming to notice the happiness was entirely one-sided.

It wasn‟t that Pippa wasn‟t happy to see her mother. She was genuinely worried

about her and understood it had been extremely too long since she had last been home;

but every time the two were together she felt like all social skills went out the window.

When Pippa was a teenager everyone had warned her mother that things would get rocky,

as any relationship with parents do. Yet with her father‟s disappearance, Pippa had lashed

out more than your average angry teen. Her once strong connection with Leianne was

diminished to nothing but disconnected conversations about what to have for dinner and

how she did on that test in school. It was understood that if her mother left her alone,

things would be under control. Neither of them expected the silence to stretch out for so

many years.

They accompanied Leianne up to the front of the store, where Logan still stood

behind the small counter, loading a battery into a giant SLR camera.

“Oh Pip, have you met Logan,” she said nonchalantly.

“We went to high school together,” he responded for her.

26

“Ohhh well that‟s nice. You two should catch up,” she said, not bothering to delay

what Pippa knew she had been thinking ever since she hired him.

“Yes, how about we start right now,” Pippa said mockingly. “So Logan, what are

you doing here exactly?”

“Hooking your mom up with some technology,” he said, not falling victim to her

sarcasm.

“He‟s taking pictures of everything in the shop and cataloging it on a website!”

her mom said excitedly. Pippa stifled a laugh. Her mom barely knew how to work the

email address Caroline had set up for her years ago; she doubted she would be able to

keep up a website. But perhaps that‟s where Logan came in.

“I did graphic design at UNC,” Logan explained, “There‟s not much around here

hiring and your mom was nice enough to offer. It‟ll make selling a lot easier.”

“Well that‟s nice of you,” Pippa said, flipping through some postcards by the

register.

“Logan, are you going to Olympic tonight?” Hallie interjected.

“I think I am actually, seems like a big get-together for once. You going Pippa?”

“Oh, me? I don‟t think so. Hallie‟s really the only person I still talk to from here

so I‟m sure no one would really expect me there,” Pippa had no idea what the two were

talking about.

27

“Nah don‟t be silly everyone would love to see you. We‟re celebrating because

Rob O‟Donnell just landed some big job in Los Angeles, he‟s leaving the day after

tomorrow. Hallie already told them all you‟re coming back for a while, I‟m sure it

wouldn‟t be a problem.”

Pippa turned sharply and gave her friend a menacing look. She grinned widely.

“Please, please, please Pippa? It would be so great to get everyone together,” she clasped

her hands in a praying motion.

“I think it would be a great idea Pipsqueak,” her mother agreed, mortifyingly

using the childhood nickname that Pippa hated hearing from anyone other than her father.

“Don‟t worry about it being your first night back; I had nothing planned for us for

dinner,” she said.

“Yeah we‟ll see. I‟ll go drop my things off and let you guys know,” she figured it

would be more than easy to get out of this by retreating to her old room and never coming

back out. Just like old times, she thought.

“No,” her mom said sharply. Even Logan looked up from the camera he had been

so focused on. Adjusting her voice, Leianne continued. “Why don‟t you spend some time

with Hallie, I‟ll bring your things back for you,” she said through a tight smile, not

meeting her eyes.

“I‟d really like to freshen up at least. You know. Airplane hair,” she said, tugging

at a stand of hair that spilled over her shoulder.

“You look fine Pip, go on, get reacquainted with the town,” her mom pressed.

28

Pippa glanced at Hallie, who looked apologetic. “Sorry Pip I actually have

something to do before dinner too, maybe it would be best if you…”

“I‟ll keep you company,” Logan offered, already packing his camera into a fancy

looking case.

“That‟s quite alright, I can manage on my own,” she said.

“I‟m sure you could. I‟m also sure you could manage just as well with me tagging

along,” he smirked; taking note of how desperate she was to escape.

“Good, good. So you two go run off and I‟ll see you tonight? Or even tomorrow

morning, I might be in bed early,” her mom concluded. Pippa wondered why she was so

hell-bent on having her stay so far from the house. Oh God, if there’s some welcome

home crap set up for when I get back, I’ll just die, she thought to herself. Suddenly she

realized that was the most logical reason. Her mother was all about surprises, and Pippa

avoided them at all costs.

The three of them left the store. Pippa gave Hallie a quick hug and exaggerated a

pinky promise when she enthusiastically requested that Pippa join them all for dinner.

She then turned abruptly and began walking down the sidewalk, allowing Logan to trail

behind her. Before long his lengthy strides caught up with her. She tried not to notice

how much he towered over her now that they were side by side.

“So, what‟s the plan,” he asked her.

“I‟m going home,” she said simply.

“I don‟t think your mom wants that.”

29

“My mom wanted me to come down here, and I‟m here. Other than that I‟m really

not interested in her orders. I came back to be home. That‟s where I‟m going,” she said

matter-of-factly. She adjusted the large pack she had slung over her shoulder, stuffed full

of rolled up clothes and overnight necessities. She felt like a nomad the way she was

easily able to carry her basic necessities on her back like this. The only thing she

possessed that would take up more space was her art supplies, which she painfully had to

leave behind to avoid checking a bag at the airport.

The walk to her neighborhood was always scenic. The downtown area turned into

a small street that seemed as if, only days ago, it had been an old dirt road with horse and

buggy traveling up and down it. Massive oak trees lined the street; wooden fences

bordered it from the green fields in the background. Occasionally there was an old

colonial house. Pippa was two blocks away, thinking intently about everything that had

just happened. It wouldn‟t be distressing to anyone else, but to her the past half hour was

the opposite of what she wanted as a welcoming.

She was always glad to see Hallie, and she wouldn‟t have minded spending the

afternoon catching up with her. Hallie was so much like Pippa, yet opposite in every way.

While Pippa wanted to be anywhere but Bakersville, Hallie knew from day one that she

would stay there forever. Now working as a substitute teacher at their old elementary

school, Pippa didn‟t quite relate to her decisions but she was happy her friend seemed so

at peace with her new life. It was a feeling Pippa envied greatly.

A block away from her house, she realized Logan was still beside her. So lost in

her thoughts, she had entirely blocked his six foot frame.

30

“So were you hired to take pictures of all my mom‟s crap or as a personal security

guard for me?” she asked. “I know it‟s been awhile but I think I can find my house on my

own.”

“I‟m just following you, boss,” he fired back. She was annoyed that he seemed to

think he could read her so easily. She thought it weirder that he seemed so comfortable

stalking her after going years without seeing her. Well that’s Logan, she thought dully.

“Well you‟re not coming in,” she said.

There were obvious reasons she wanted to be alone. She wanted to reacquaint

herself with it on her own. She wanted to walk through the back yard she used to play in

so contently when she was little, run her fingers across the dining room table no one had

sat at after her father no longer occupied the large chair at the end. She wanted to see the

tiny twin bed and poster plastered wall she had so precariously decorated for years. Most

of all, she needed to see the garden.

She turned down her gravel driveway, passed the baby blue mailbox her and

Caroline had painted when Pippa little and immediately passed the porch to go to the

back yard.

“Did you forget where the door was?” Logan asked, hanging back by the foot of

the porch steps.

Pippa ignored him, already turning the corner behind the house. The yard was

overall a simple one. An old swing set sat rusty and unused at the edge of the woods. The

yard was well kept and full of space. A hammock stretched between two pine trees by the

31

stone bird bath their mother had made. Everything appeared to be perfect, but Pippa‟s

eyes were drawn instantly to the edge of the house. Twigs, leaves, grass and overgrown

weeds littered the garden her mom and her had dug up along the base of the house. The

stones Pippa had collected and laid so carefully along the mulch were nearly invisible

with the mess that spilled from the garden.

“You know, my mom and I used to spend hours out here digging this up and

planting all sorts of flowers. It used to be really beautiful, before…” she trailed off as she

peered over her shoulder to find she was alone.

She found Logan sitting on the bottom porch step, drawing circles in the dirt with

his boot. With his attention distracted, she took a better look at him from the corner of the

house. Instead of the early balding disaster that seemed to be affected a lot of the guys

she knew in college, Logan‟s hair seemed to be extra thick and shaggy since she saw him

last. The dirty blonde waves fell over his forehead; shadowing his clear blue eyes that

always had a hint of grey, though she couldn‟t see them from where she was. That was

something she had always remembered about him. Back in their senior year everyone

skipped and went to the beach overnight. That‟s where she finally got a good look at his

eyes, where he tried to kiss her and where she had experienced her first impulse to run.

She wondered why he had so easily accepted her coming back here.

“Hey, I‟m just going to go in real quick and get changed. Do you…want to come

in? I mean, you can sit inside if you want.”

32

“No it‟s fine, you go in. It‟s your place. I‟m fine waiting here,” he leaned forward,

resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up at Pippa and she returned a slight smile

before walking up the steps. She felt eighteen again, but only for a moment.

The porch led to a small dayroom where they stored seasonal things like the lawn

chairs for outside, and equipment for the grill. She walked through and searched the

multiple flower pots for the one that always hid the key to the inside door. She searched

in vain, checking the four closest pots before trying her luck on the door itself. She turned

the cold knob, and to her surprise it twisted. Her mother had always been strangely

paranoid about burglars. Pippa thought she might have just assumed she didn‟t have the

key anymore, or forgot where they hid it. Guess that’s a legitimate thought, she thought

to herself, feeling another small wave of guilt. She pushed open the door, and what she

was met with on the other side of the doorway immediately halted everything in her.

Piles of her mother‟s belongings cluttered the living room, running along the

edges of the wall and spilling out onto the center of the floor, where a large antique carpet

once lay. It might still be there for all Pippa knew, but the amount of junk covering the

floor hid it completely from her view. Only a small pathway along the wall closest to her

would allow her to pass through the room.

“Holy…” she said out loud, trailing off as she fell deeper into disbelief. She stood

frozen just to the side of the doorway, unable to force herself to pass through the room.

Piles of newspapers, books, cd cases and containers were stacked on top of each other.

Pillows, fabric, and assorted clothing wove in between chairs. Pippa looked closer at the

mess and found items that even belonged to her and her siblings. Her brother‟s baseball

33

cards poked out from under boxes, old catcher‟s gloves from his high school baseball

team sat beside Caroline‟s favorite apron and piano lesson books that she had not opened

since she was twelve. And to her horror, Pippa found all too much of her old artwork

from middle school and beyond. Her mother still had pieces from her high school senior

showcase in the wooden hutch in the corner of the room, canvases and other pieces she

tried to experiment with were found throughout the room as well. What the hell is this,

she thought.

“Oh….wow,” Logan‟s voice came out of nowhere from her right side. She didn‟t

even flinch at the surprise, too stunned to do anything but stare. Some of the piles looked

like they would reach her knee.

“Are…are you okay?” Logan repeated, looking at Pippa‟s widened eyes.

“I don‟t know,” her voice fell flatly on the air between them. This was not at all

the kind of awe-inspiring moment that she was supposed to share with a guy, any guy,

even Logan. She was supposed to go somewhere beautiful like the Grand Canyon and

hear the words “oh wow” beside her. She felt like she had picked up a guy from the bar in

town and taken him to a local junkyard art exhibit. The mosaic of junk in front of her

screamed “notice me” just like she had always tried to make her pieces do, and her

mother hadn‟t even been trying. This was not her home.

Logan placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, breaking her from whatever spell she

had seemed to fall under. She moved away from his touch, stepping over flower pots and

trying her best to storm through the room in the direction of her room. Boxes lined the

hall but all seemed normal, then she got to the first door. Her door. She opened it

34

cautiously. She saw sunlight coming through her curtains. Well that’s a good sign, she

thought, she couldn’t do too much damage if my window isn’t blocked off.

She flipped on the light switch to rid her room of the shadows. To her relief, it

seemed unchanged. Some drawers in her desk were halfway opened, where her mother

had clearly been poking around for items that she had just walked past in the living room.

She slid her backpack off her shoulder. If she stayed in here she could force herself into

believing the other room did not exist. She could hide from that reality and stay in her

own, still covered with band posters and magazines clips.

Is that what I’ve done all along? she asked herself. How did this happen? How

did I not see this? Where have I been? She realized she was not literally questioning her

absence, as there was no way for her to have seen this coming while so far away. Yet she

knew enough to know something had to cause this, and there was no excuse for being so

distant that she didn‟t even have tabs on her mother‟s emotional state. For the first time in

a long time, tears clung to the edges of her eyes, full of the sting of confusion and the

inability to understand what she had just walked into.

She knew she couldn‟t hide away in her room like she did when she was sixteen.

She came back willingly and now she had another purpose for doing so. She flipped the

light switch back off and returned to the living room where Logan still stood, patiently

waiting for her. She felt a deep embarrassment that she tried hard to hide, seeing the ways

his eyes would dart from one part of the room to another, even as he tried to retain a

normal appearance. She knew this must freak him out just as much as it did her.

“Come on, let‟s go,” she said, walking past him to go back to the porch.

35

“Do you…should I lock the door behind me?” he called out. Pippa was already

halfway across the yard.

“I will admire and willingly give away anything in that room to any robber who is

patient enough to sift through it,” she called over her shoulder. “Leave the door wide

open for all I care.”

She heard a faint click as he shut the door behind him. Maybe it was the dedicated

look on her face, or the way in which she walked, but Logan didn‟t ask a single question

as to where she was headed or how she felt. She appreciated that and decided he had

grown significantly smarter in the past few years.

The second time Pippa walked through the door to her mother‟s shop it was

nearly five. The bell tinkled overhead, begging for someone in her state of mind to rip it

down forever. This time her mother was easier to find, sitting on a stool behind the

counter. Her reading glasses were on and she concentrated on a thick book, The World of

Ornament.

“Oh Pip, someone just dropped this off for me you would love it!” her head

snapped up when the two entered the store. She began to turn the book around for her.

“Mom,” she said. She tried to keep her cool but anger flared noticeably under her

voice. Her mother looked at her without saying a word, possibly wondering the last time

she had heard her youngest daughter say this. She seemed confused and worried, anxious

that her daughter was about to tell her exactly what she did not want to hear.

36

“What the hell happened to the house?” Pippa continued. Her mother looked

down. She slipped her glasses off and folded them on the book before her.

“I told you not to go home first, it‟s not ready for you yet,” she said.

“Not ready. Not ready? There‟s crap everywhere the minute you walk in! How is

that going to be ready for anyone?”

“I know it‟s gotten a bit out of hand. I‟ve been having some lazy days, I need to

tidy up.”

“Oh, no. No way. That‟s not untidy or even messy. That‟s trashed. How did you

let it get like that?” she held her hands up, any answer would surprise her.

Her mother looked at her with an expression that almost broke her heart. “I‟ve

been sick Pippa, I just haven‟t had the time…” her argument was weak and she knew it.

“Well you‟re only as sick as your secrets,” the disappointment in her voice was

evident. Unwilling to speak anymore, she let her words hang in the air as she walked

back out the door, slamming it shut. Logan was leaning up against the wall, having

silently left the room moments before.

“Are you sure you‟re okay?” he said quietly as she mimicked his stance and let

out a heavy sigh. She seriously contemplated his question this time.

“Let‟s go eat,” she said.

37

She didn‟t exactly want to go to the big gathering Hallie had mentioned earlier,

but any new distraction was more the welcome now. She sat between Logan and her best

friend as the table of twenty swapped inside jokes and spoke about things she couldn‟t

give input to. From time to time the girls from her high school would ask her questions

about what it was like to live in the city and how jealous they were. Pippa perfected her

forced smile, telling entertaining stories that were more connected to her time in college

than to the past year living on her own. Nothing seemed magical anymore about the

crowded city, yet nothing felt familiar here either.

She had welcomed feeling like an outcast at the crowded table just to avoid

returning home. One by one people got up to leave and Pippa realized her options were

running out. She looked to Hallie for a lifeline.

“We barely got to talk today Hal,” she said, “There‟s literally so much I need to

tell you. Want to grab that coffee we were supposed to get earlier?”

“Awe I‟m sorry Pippa, I told Brian I would go back to his place for dessert. It‟s

his little brothers birthday,” her lips smooshed into an exaggerated pout.

“It‟s okay, maybe tomorrow,” Pippa replied politely. Her heart sank as she

grabbed her purse from the floor. She debated how much money she had in her account

and whether it was enough to hitchhike and grab another plane going anywhere.

I just can’t go back yet, she thought. She left the restaurant and began walking in

the direction of caffeine. The old coffee shop a street away had recently been transformed

into a small Starbucks. Back at her apartment, the coffee chain was a relentless omen of

overpriced bitter calories, but the idea of it offered her some comfort tonight.

38

As she was waiting to pick up her order, she wasn‟t at all surprised to see Logan

walk through the door. Exhausted, she even found it possible to smile as her walked over

to her.

“Sorry, Hallie told me you would probably be going here. She feels a little guilty

and said I would be a better replacement.”

“That‟s fine. I could use the company,” she said.

When they left the shop the sun was almost completely down, bright pink and

orange streaks separated the day from the night.

“Looks like tomorrow will be a nice day,” Logan said, motioning to the

disappearing sunset.

Pippa gazed at the sky as well and smiled slightly. For whatever reason, though

she was unspeakably angry with her, images of her and her mother came to mind. When

she was seven they started planting flowers together in the backyard. The orange hue in

the sky reminded her of sitting on the porch as her mother explained the differences

between morning glories and marigolds.

“You know, this time of year when I was little my mom and I used to go to the

library to get gardening books. Don‟t laugh,” she quickly added, “it actually always came

out really nice. We‟d try different flowers every year, and we started getting crazy with

patterns and stuff. It was a lot of fun.”

39

“Sounds like some very mother-daughterly bonding, nothing to make fun of,” he

said sweetly. “I‟m sure that dirt has been itching to get dug up again. Y‟all should do that

while you‟re down here, it‟d be good for her.”

Pippa chuckled at the way he seemed to look at things so simply.

“Yeah, it‟s not that easy,” she said, “we don‟t talk that often anymore, it‟s just

something I was thinking of, that‟s all.”

“Well you could always change that you know,” he countered.

“I‟m sure I could,” she tried to retaliate but couldn‟t think of a response that

wouldn‟t make her seem entirely coldhearted. “I just…don‟t know how.”

“Well,” he coached, “you could start off with something like “Hey! Mom! How

„bout we go out to the garden today, it‟s beautiful outside‟” His mocking of her was

entirely off, making her laugh.

“You‟re right! That totally sounds like something I would say,” she said

sarcastically. “Really though, that would feel completely awkward to me.”

“Maybe it would. But how would it feel for your mom? Do you really only do

things based off of how you feel?”

Pippa felt a thin wall of defense building up. “If you‟re saying I‟m selfish or

something…”

“I‟m not. Here…before I dig myself into the hole, I‟ll explain. You know, my dad

was married before my mom came around? They were very young, married after high

40

school. Madly in love with each other. He got a job at the law firm and he was always

under a lot of stress, after a while it was like she didn‟t exist to him anymore other than to

run his errands and kiss him goodnight when he woke her up getting home late. He knew

there was a problem, he knew he could fix it but he got so comfortable in that distance

that he let it get the best of them.”

“If you‟re trying to feed me some heartbreaking story…it‟s not working. I know

your dad has only been married once,” Pippa said.

“Oh. Right,” he actually seemed embarrassed to have his story revealed. “Fine,

I‟m just trying to say that most of the time you should come first. In work, in happiness,

in whatever you want…but there comes a time when you have to set aside your pride for

a bit if something is important enough. I‟m just saying, what‟s more awkward to

you…asking her to do something together right now and trying to fix whatever barrier

you two have, or…I don‟t know, walking down the aisle on your wedding day and

realizing she‟s not crying because she gave you away a long time ago?”

Pippa walked beside him in silence for some time, his words ringing in her mind

like the bell in her mother‟s shop. They annoyed her, but for good reason. He had a point.

“You know, you‟re better when you aren‟t trying to bullshit me. As girly as that

all sounded” she finally said.

“Yeah, guess I underestimated how much you remembered about me,” he said

embarrassingly.

41

“Thank you for trying to lie to lift my spirits,” she smiled, “you know, you aren‟t

half bad. I‟ve been pretty mean to you today, I‟m sorry.”

“See, that‟s a great start!” his mouth dropped open in forced amazement, waving

his finger at her playfully.

“Don‟t make me take it back” she said, swatting his hand away.

“Apology accepted,” he said, “I‟m sure you can be nice too. When you want to

be.”

The two continued walking, each giving a brief recap of where their lives had

gone in the past few years. Pippa was so caught up in conversation that she didn‟t even

recognize the end of her driveway when she came upon it.

“Home..?” she questioned herself out loud. She had let him lead her back without

realizing it.

“A lady should never walk home alone,” he smiled at her. “Stop by the store

tomorrow if you can. Good luck with everything. Goodnight.”

She thought his departure was too sudden compared to the pace of the rest of the

night. She watched him disappear down the darkened street, his hands in his pockets. He

only looked back once.

The living room windows glowed a light yellow through the curtains. Her mother

was home and awake. When Pippa walked through the door once more, it took

everything in her to once again keep her shock in check. Lamplight highlighted sections

of the room, casting shadows on the wall where the piles grew even taller. She looked

42

down to see her mother sitting on the floor, a space cleared away for her to sit and

slightly stretch out her bandaged ankle. She was furiously stuffing papers into a garbage

bag, not looking up, though Pippa knew she heard her enter the room. Pippa heard the

quick intake of breathe and sniffling that her mother tried to hide.

Crouching down in front of her, Pippa took one of the newspapers from the pile.

It was dated January 2009, three years old. When she looked up from the paper she saw

her mother swipe her wrist across her eyes. She looked up at her daughter; lines from

dried tears streaked down her cheeks like veins, her eyes were swollen and red. Fresh

tears clung to her thin lashes and Pippa felt the urge to hug her immediately. But instead,

she took the paper in her hand and carefully placed it into the black garbage bag that sat

between them, already half full. Neither woman said a word. The rest of the night passed

slowly as they discarded the past.

When Pippa came to her mother offering to help her clear away the mess, she

didn‟t know what to expect. She must have felt ashamed; Pippa knew that much for sure.

Though she was standoffish at first, the silence got the best of both of them in time.

Leianne took time off from the shop, letting her only other employee have free reign for

the time being. They were both amazed at the amount of progress they were able to make

three days in.

After the first night it didn‟t take Pippa long to realize that the items cluttering her

old living room floor weren‟t junk at all. Not to her and certainly not to her mother. Even

the pieces of fabric scraps that were too miniscule to actually be put to use were seen as

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items that were worthy of having a life. I go all over looking for these things, she thought

as she remembered bringing empty sugar containers home from work just so she could

incorporate them into whatever she happened to be working on at the time. Everything in

the room had a meaning for her mother, though Pippa wasn‟t always sure what the

significance was. The process was often painstakingly slow, but together the two filtered

through the items, choosing which ones were unnecessary and which they would keep

and find a home for. It saddened Pippa that she was using this same method with her

mother that her mother had used on her the first time they cleaned her room as a child.

She hoped her mother didn‟t see this similarity.

In fact, Pippa found herself almost enjoying some of the things she found that she

had long ago forgotten. It was like a scavenger hunt. She tried to ignore the obvious

hazard that her old knitting needles posed in this situation, but she still happily pulled

them out of one pile. She remembered Caroline and her mother taking her to the craft

store to get her very own pair of needles and yarn, simply because she was jealous her

mother was teaching Caroline and not her. One messy yarn square after another proved to

Pippa that she was neither skilled nor patient enough to become a master of knitting and

she soon gave up the hobby as quickly as she started it. On the second day of cleaning

Pippa did indeed find these dozen oblong squares of yarn she had given up on, but her

mother hadn‟t.

She found fake flowers filling a basket that was once attached to Pippa‟s bike,

causing her to look down at her own knees and smile. Her father had taken her to the park

with her brand new pink bike when she was six. For each lap she made around the pond,

he had a flower to place in the basket as she scooted past him. After her seventh circle

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she began to get tired, her feet feeling like lead, though she wanted to keep collecting the

flowers he had for her. Her reflexes were completely thrown off when she hit the rock

that toppled her over. When she got home, her mother bandaged up her skinned knees

and battle wounds for the first time.

Each time these memories came to her she found herself sharing them with

Leianne. They found an old copy of Harold and the Purple Crayon, complete with the

drawings Pippa had made on the pages, convinced that there needed to be more than just

one color in the book.

“I thought you were going to kill me when you found this,” she said, opening a

highly decorated page. “It was worse than coloring on the walls here.”

“Well what about this,” her mom held up Where the Wild Things Are. “Remember

how badly you wanted me to make you pajamas like these? You were a wild thing

already.” As the two laughed, Pippa felt the wall between them dissolving, like an

archeologist was brushing away the dust and dirt to get to the prize below the surface. It

was exciting and terrifying to her all at once. By the fourth day, she felt as if she had

made a small breakthrough.

Taking hold of a stuffed teddy bear, her mother patted the plush toy before

speaking. “This was Caroline‟s first bear,” she told Pippa, the wear and tear on the toy

was so extreme she wondered how it was still holding itself together. “I remember taking

this out of her closet one night after you moved out. I just had a glass of wine and sat out

here with it. You know it felt a little lonely, and this little guy brought her here for a bit.

But then of course I had to have you and Chase here too…”

45

“So you thought if you surrounded yourself with us, it would be like having us

here,” Pippa finished for her, confirming what she had been suspecting for days. Though

some of the objects were there purely out of her mother‟s carelessness, many of the items

that had been brought to the room were connected with Pippa and her siblings. Yet

nothing was more shocking than finding some of her father‟s belongings mixed in.

When Pippa uncovered her father‟s old high school football shirt, she couldn‟t

believe she was actually holding it in her hands again.

“I thought you threw this all out,” she said in amazement, running her hands over

the faded letters of his last name.

“No honey,” Leianne sighed, finding it easier to speak as she was organizing the

pile in front of her. “I put them away, but I didn‟t throw them away. I couldn‟t. It‟s all

been in the shed out back.”

“But then why is it in here now?” Pippa asked, wondering what could have

prompted her to return her father‟s boxes to the house. She thought of the ugly fight that

would never leave her memories. It’s been here this whole time, she felt stupid and

immature years too late.

Her mother didn‟t meet her eyes, and simply said she didn‟t have a clue. Yet

Pippa found plenty of his objects as she dove deeper into the fading mess. Baseball hats,

books, their wedding album. As Pippa flipped through the pictures of the bride and

groom, she decided to ask her mother something that had been on her mind since the day

she came to town.

46

“Tell me about Walter,” she tried to sound conversational though it was hard to

do.

“We don‟t need to talk about that, Pip,” her mother said.

Pippa put down the album. “If he‟s part of your life then I‟d just like to know

about him, Mom.” Her voice was quiet.

“Well,” Leianne began, putting down what she was currently looking through. “I

don‟t really know what to say that you don‟t already know…he worked with your father

in the army,” her voice seemed to cautiously mull over what to share and what to keep

silent, and Pippa willed herself to keep an open mind.

“He still works as a police officer now, he sometimes stops by the store to see if I

have any coins that he doesn‟t have yet” she chuckled. “It‟s nothing serious Pippa. He‟s

just been there for me, he‟s a good friend and I owe him a lot.”

Pippa rolled her eyes at her mother‟s sugarcoating, knowing full well that there

were feelings there. It was like the day Caroline got her first boyfriend and tried to

convince their mother that he was “just a friend” while turning ten shades of red.

“How did you two meet?” she said in a singsong voice, moments away from

teasing her with a new rendition of “Leianne and Walter sittin‟ in a tree…”

“It‟s not important,” her mother said quickly, tossing the idea right out of Pippa‟s

mind. “He knew your father, we knew of each other, now we see each other from time to

time.” There was finality in her voice that had Pippa taken aback. Maybe she had crossed

a line after all.

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“Well if he makes you happy…then I‟m glad,” Pippa picked up the album again,

her moment of generosity suddenly felt like too much. A shaky hand was placed over her

own a moment later.

“Thank you,” her mother looked her in the eyes. “And…I‟m thinking of what you

said the other day. About being as sick as my secrets.”

“No, forget that…” Pippa‟s heart skipped a beat as she remembered the evil

words she had directed at her mother.

“No, honey, you were right. And I‟m sorry. I‟ve kept way too many things from

you.”

Pippa didn‟t shrug away from her mother‟s hand over her own, but instead

squeezed it in response. No words were necessary and for once it was supposed to be that

way.

On the sixth day the antique carpet was uncovered once more. They brought it out

to the backyard to clean it, hanging it on the wire clothes line. They laughed and smacked

at the rug as clouds of dust dispersed from it. Pippa motioned to the garden behind them,

where the dead leaves continued to gather.

“Next project?” she offered. Her mother willingly accepted. Okay Logan, you

win, she smiled to herself. With only a small corner of the room left to sort through,

Pippa convinced her mother to return to work the next day.

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“They miss you, they need you,” she urged her. “Trust me, this hasn‟t moved in

three years and I‟m sure it won‟t go anywhere while you‟re gone for a few hours.”

That morning her mother set off to work at her normal time and Pippa rose early

to begin her own plans. The remaining heap was enough for her to tackle in a day‟s time,

but first she needed to gather supplies.

She went to town and found art supplies, never considering that the time home

would inspire her to create anything at all. Yet going through everything had given her

the drive she needed. Unknown to her mother, one bag of garbage was secretly being

stored to go into Pippa‟s new project. I’m hoarding her hoard, she laughed to herself. In

fact, the pieces of old newspaper clippings along with the fabric scraps and old pictures

had formed the creation of something both beautiful and meaningful in her mind. She had

set aside an old pottery vase her mom wanted to toss, already envisioning the flowers she

would make out of her scraps. In Pippa‟s mind, this would make all the difference after

what they went through the past week. As weird as the experience was, she felt closer to

her mom than she had in years and she wanted to showcase it somehow.

She found Logan as she made her way to town, adding to the happiness she

already felt that day. She had seen him now and then over the past few days, the two

having more in common than she ever thought possible.

“Hey you,” he smirked when he saw her carrying her bag filled with glue gun and

paper mache material. “We still on for tonight?”

Pippa had agreed to drive down to the beach with Logan and his friends that

evening for a bonfire. The same beach where years before she had turned him down

49

shamelessly. She had been wondering if tonight he would go for a second shot, but she

didn‟t want to get her hopes up.

“I suppose I still have time to fit you into my oh-so-busy schedule,” she joked.

“But really, 8 o‟clock, right?”

“Yes ma‟am.”

“Cool. I‟ll see you later tonight then. There‟s a few more things I‟ve got to do this

afternoon…I‟m picking up some flowers for the garden I think. I‟ve needed some hands-

on projects,” she added.

Logan smiled, nodding his head as if he was saying “you‟re welcome” for the

favor she never really thanked him for. Maybe tonight…she thought, imagining a dark

blue sky, a bag of marshmallows and a fire to fit twenty people around.

When she got to the flower shop she picked up an assortment of different blooms.

She carried home a basket overflowing with bright pink and purple geraniums, white

petunias, golden marigolds and peonies. Tucked under her arm was the bag from the craft

store as well as a special pot for her mother. The heart shaped buds hung off the stems of

the bleeding heart plant just the way her mother always liked. Pippa thought the plant

would brighten up the house for her mother once she walked in, giving the place some

new life.

She left the flowers on the front porch and assembled one last trash bag. She

sorted through the remainder of the mess, organizing it into three piles now that her

mother was not around. One to keep, one to toss and one to use in her next creation. She

50

didn‟t know how her mother would respond to her work when she was finished with it.

Would she be mad, not wanting to have anything left to remind her of those lonely years

she had let get the best of her? Or would she also be able to see some beauty in it, and

surround herself with the memories in a healthier way? Pippa hoped for the best as she

set aside ripped postcards and coins that had settled under the desk for years.

Within two hours of work, the old desk was spotless once again. Looks like it’s

brand new, she thought, adjusting a picture frame that she found under the pile of books

and papers. It used to lean against the wall in the middle of the desk, displaying a large

picture of her father in his dress blues. The frame was dusty and specked with age from

being submerged in the mess, but Pippa sat it upright once more. The smears across the

glass blurred her father‟s face from her, just as her memories had done. She wondered

how long ago it was that she stopped kidding herself and accepted the fact that he wasn‟t

coming home. He wouldn’t even recognize me if he walked up to the porch, she thought,

he’d think someone else had moved in.

Tearing her eyes away from the frame, she was determined to keep her unusually

pleasant state of mind. Being home had possibly done her more good than it had for her

mother, and as the days crept closer to her departure she felt reluctant to leave. She

picked up the bleeding heart plant from the porch railing and brought it inside.

She scanned the kitchen counter for a pair of scissors to cut away the plastic

protecting the majority of the leaves. Unable to find any, she crossed the floor to open the

middle drawer of the desk she had just cleaned off. Her mother always used to keep extra

pairs of fabric cutters there, but who knows what had been taken out and put in the

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drawers since then. With her right hand, she shuffled through the assortment of papers,

receipts and pens inside the desk. When something sharp pricked her finger, she thought

she had gotten lucky. Yet what she pulled out from the back of the drawer was an old

envelope, thick with paper inside that had been wedged deep between the cracks in the

desk.

Pippa didn‟t think twice about the letter and tossed it back on top of the rest in the

drawer, but the name at the top left of the old envelope caught her attention. Walter‟s

name. She looked down at it, taking in the rest of the faded script. It was addressed to the

family of Andrew Bronson. Wow, how old this must be, she thought. She couldn‟t

remember Walter ever having contact with their family before, only remembering that

her father vaguely knew him when he first joined the service after September 11.

They hadn‟t had a letter addressed to them like that in years. Her heart skipped

beats as she looked down at the letter, though she didn‟t know what about it made her this

anxious. Everything in her was urging her to read what was inside. Well it is addressed to

the family, after all, she thought.

Nonchalantly she swiped up the letter once more, telling herself there was going

to be no real excitement in it. If anything, she should avoid reading it just to stay away

from the past it might bring up. She unfolded the yellowed paper, three sheets in all. Her

eyes squinted to read Walter‟s tiny scrawl at the top of the page. They fastened on the

date: February 28, 2009. She started breathing deeply, as if the air suddenly became

much too thick and heavy for her lungs. “This is more recent than I thought…” she said

aloud.

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Her hazel eyes scanned left to right, taking in the first line. Then paused. They

shot back to the left, back to the right, repeating over and over again. She looked up from

the letter in the direction of her father‟s portrait sitting on the desk. Even with her eyes

open and away from the letter, she could see the words large and before her, covering the

table and running across the picture in the frame. “Leianne and kids, I am deeply

saddened to hear of your loss…”

Pippa‟s hands shook violently, the stiff letter crinkled in her grasp. The pot of

flowers she had balanced on her left hip slipped from under her arm, crashing to the

groun. The dark soil spilled out from the cracked plastic and onto the newly cleaned rug,

just as the warm tears began running down her cheeks.