The Pieces We Keep(102)

“For you, madame.” Audra presented the drink, which Luanne gratefully accepted. As Audra pulled up a stool, Luanne took a sip that caused her to scowl.

“What in heaven’s name did they do to this water?” Luanne studied the pink-tinted liquid.

“I think they soaked rose petals in it. Would you like something else?”

“No, no. It’ll do. Just don’t be surprised if I start sprouting leaves.” Luanne grinned and set the glass down by the photo she’d been studying. A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a bright smile had his arm around Judith at a younger age; beside them hung a landscape painting in an array of vibrant hues.

“That’s my Freddy there,” Luanne said, observing Audra’s attention. “It was the first time a buyer put Judith’s art on public display. By the fuss we made, you’d have thought it was at the Met, not a bar and grille.”

Audra smiled, taking a moment to recognize the natural segue to Luanne’s past. “Sounds like you were great parents to her.”

Behind Luanne’s bifocals, a tinge of somberness entered her eyes. “Yes, well. We weren’t the real thing. Just did the best we knew how.” She wiped a smudge from the frame, and a pensive smile warmed her face. “Freddy was a good man. And strong. Eight years ago, the doctors diagnosed him with colon cancer, gave him six months to live. But that stubborn fool fought for three more years.”

Audra was suddenly tempted to postpone the pending talk. But then she thought of Jack and his nightmares and her longing to care for him until her own graying days.

“Luanne,” she began, “I need to talk to you about something.”

The woman turned to her, tilting her head a fraction. “What is it, dear?”

“It’s about ... well, it’s about Vivian.”

The name clearly came as a surprise. “Oh?” Luanne said.

“I know this might be a strange question. But I was hoping you could tell me about her and Isaak, about what happened between them during the war.”

At this, the wrinkles lining Luanne’s mouth deepened. She dropped her gaze to the lap of her floral dress, as if contemplating. “His name doesn’t sound familiar,” she said, and picked at invisible lint. Her hand appeared to quiver from a cause other than age.

Audra had no desire to interrogate the sweet lady, but a remedy for Jack could be an arm’s length away. She couldn’t give up without reaching.

“I understand how painful it can be, talking about loved ones you’ve lost. I genuinely do. But I’m begging you—as a mother who loves her son, just as much as I know you’ve loved Judith—I’m asking for your help.”

Slowly, Luanne raised her eyes. They were bewildered and heavily guarded, but she was listening. And that was all the prompting Audra needed.

Without reservation, perhaps from repetition, she delved straight into the major highlights. One event after the other, she recapped her skeptical journey. All along Luanne said nothing, not a single act of acknowledgment, yet Audra didn’t stop. She barely took breaths between sentences until she reached the end, at which point silence draped the room, far thicker than any paint fumes.

Luanne stared at her distantly. A flush resembling a rash had crept into her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t blame you at all for thinking I’m nuts,” Audra added, hoping to dispel the idea. “Either way, the fact is, I don’t know how to help Jack without knowing more.”

A long quiet passed before Luanne went to speak. When she did, the words came even but firm. “I wish I could help you, but like I said, I don’t know anything about it.”

Audra’s spirits recoiled. Outside of crawling on her knees, she could think of no other way to ask.

All of a sudden, music and chatter from the gallery rose in volume. From the opened door Jack shuffled over. “Mom, what took so long?”

“Sorry about that.” Audra tried to smile. “I just had to talk to Luanne for a while.”

Sean declared from the doorway, “We need to leave early.” From his cool demeanor, it was clear he’d surmised the gist of the conversation and didn’t approve. He had, after all, warned Audra that dredging up the past would upset Luanne—and based on the woman’s expression, he was right. “Are you feeling well enough to drive home, Aunt Lu?”

Luanne hesitated before nodding. “Yes ... I’ll be fine.” She said this while looking at Jack, who was surveying the shelves, absently rubbing his toy plane.

“Come on, Jack,” Audra said, standing. “Let’s go.”

“But, Mom”—he pointed at Luanne—“it’s Miss Muppet.”