Pieces of the Heart by Karen White

in several long strides and was alarmed at how blanched the skin on her face appeared. He placed the back of his hand to her cheek, then drew it back, the feel of it reminding him of Shelby after they had pulled her from the water.
    “Where can I find your mother?”
    She had managed to fold herself in half and had her forehead resting on her knees. She didn’t look at him, but her voice was full of alarm. “No! I’ll be all right. I just got a little light-headed, that’s all. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
    He looked at her doubtfully. “Can I at least bring you inside? Call a doctor?”
    She shook her head in response, her forehead still pressed into her knees.
    “Go jump in the lake?” The side of her cheek wrinkled and he knew she was smiling.
    “Now there’s a thought.”
    Relieved that she seemed like herself, he straightened. “I’m going to get you a glass of water and some damp washcloths. I’ll be right back.”
    Surprisingly she didn’t argue, so he went inside and quickly found what he was looking for, as well as a cordless phone, and he picked it up, too. When he returned he saw that she hadn’t moved from her turtle-in-a-shell position, her face pressed neatly against the tops of her knees.
    He squatted next to her. “Do you want to move to the lounge chair? You might be more comfortable, and the view is better.”
    She sent him a sharp look, and he was sure now that she was on the road to recovery. She didn’t brush away his hands when he bent to help her up, so he knew she wasn’t totally herself yet. He settled her into the lounge chair and handed her the glass of water. She took brief little sips, as if she were suspicious of too much of a good thing.
    She leaned her head back, and Drew placed one of the washcloths on her forehead. He moved forward to pull the neck of her T-shirt down so it wouldn’t get wet from the second washcloth, but she pushed his hand away, a look of panic crossing her face, then pulled at the neck of her shirt to raise it higher.
    “I’m fine. I don’t need another one.”
    “But if you put this on your neck, it will cool you off quicker.”
    “I don’t want it.” She paused for a moment. “But thank you.”
    He sat down on the edge of an adjacent Adirondack chair and placed the unused washcloth next to him. “Are you going to be okay? I still think I should call your mother or at least a doctor.”
    Caroline shook her head. “No. Really. I’ll be fine.”
    He rested his elbows on his thighs and steepled his fingers. “Does this happen often?”
    She didn’t answer right away. “It didn’t used to. It’s happened a couple of times at work—which is why I’m here now. I’m supposed to be staying calm and getting better.” She opened one eye and looked at him meaningfully. “But that doesn’t seem to be happening.”
    She closed her eyes again, and he stared down at her pale, fragile skin and saw the blue veins on her hands and arms. Whether or not it was what she’d intended to do, the guilt hit him hard and deep. His father had done a pretty good job of teaching him all about guilt, and Drew had been an avid learner.
    Drew was pretty sure he wasn’t the one who’d been arguing before Caroline had collapsed on the porch steps. But when he saw her with her eyes closed and her physical frailty more evident, the guilt almost overwhelmed him. And when he thought of the way she’d looked the one time he’d seen her smile, and he’d seen the woman beneath the mask, he knew it was more than guilt that made him open his mouth.
    “Are you supposed to be doing anything while you’re here besides relaxing? Like exercising or something?”
    She seemed to answer reluctantly. “Yeah—I’m supposed be doing light cardio. But unless I missed it, there doesn’t seem to be a gym in Hart’s Valley.”
    He couldn’t help himself and laughed out loud. “You don’t need a gym to exercise, you know. There are miles and miles of forest trails here on