Chapter Thirty Six - The Pieces of My Heart

Lilas woke up hearing the soft cry of her baby daughter--ready for yet another feeding. Her mother sat in the chair cradling the infant in her arms while rocking her, softly humming a lullaby. When Lilas was fully awake, Lilly gently gave the baby to Lilas.

‘How long as she been cryin’?” Lilas asked, taking her baby to nurse.

“Not long,” answered Lilly. Lilly had been notified of her daughter’s condition the evening before. Saborra had been visiting her sister until the wee hours, but then slept out on the couch when it got too late.

Lilas kissed her daughter, then gave her a tender hug before feeding her, “Its all right, love--yer Ma’s awake now.” Rosebud quieted down as her momma held her--and also sensing food was about to arrive. Lilas smiled wearily, “Most times I’m up before she is.”

Eglantine sat in the other chair, having woke up while Rosebud was crying. “Well,” she smiled, “sometimes we need those extra few minutes--especially when the momma is ill herself.”

Lilas looked around the bedroom, “Where’s Pippin? The last time I saw him was when Cassia and ye came t’ visit.”

Eglantine rubbed her back as she stood up. “He’s with his father and Merimas.”

Lilas looked at the clock on the wall; it was a quarter past seven--in the morning. She knew it by the light of dawn seeping through the bedroom window. “Was it another lads’…night out?” Lilas asked, yet she was halfway through her sentence when she heard the outer door lightly open and close, but no one came into the bedroom.

“No, Lilas, he just needed to talk to them is all,” Eglantine answered, kissing Lilas on her brow. “I’m going to my own rooms to wash up for breakfast. I’ll be back to check on you a little later, all right?”

Pippin quietly stepped back into his apartment, having talked and cried throughout the night with his father. One of the many things they talked about was whether he should he tell her, and if so, how? His own reasoning was--why not let her last days be happy--ones without the horror of knowing that they would be few. In addition, they talked about the other “tasks” that would need seeing to. In the sitting room, Pippin rubbed his tired, swollen eyes, sinking deep into the chair to think things over. It was then that he noticed Saborra sleeping on the couch.

Pippin felt somewhat awkward sitting there while his young sister-in-law slept. He heard Rosebud begin to cry inside the bedroom then heard a muffled voice comforting her. Before contemplating anything further, he decided to look in on his family. He rose from the chair when his mother came out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“Is Lilas awake?” Pippin asked, meeting her halfway.

“Yes, she’s feeding Rosebud now,” said Eglantine. “Lilly is in with her.” She watched him stare at some unknown fixture in the apartment. He looked so weary. “She was just asking about you.”

“And what should I say to her?” asked Pippin, though it was a mere reflection of his own thought.

“The truth,” answered his mother. “She’s stronger than you think.”

“Has she vomited…or anything else?”

“No.” Eglantine replied. She had just been through this crisis a year ago with her daughter Pimernel, now she was going through it yet again with her son. Eglantine admitted to herself that for all the misgivings and shaky beginning, she had grown to love the tween-aged lass who grew up across the Water. The young Broadhammer from Hobbiton brought fresh air to the stuffy Smials even though she had not the remotest drop of Took, Brandybuck, or Baggins blood in her. It didn’t take long for her to become a favorite among the serving staff. Lilas possessed an indomitable spirit, and like her young husband, could charm the milk out of a cow.

Pippin looked at his mother with sorrowful eyes. “I need to talk to her--alone, if you please.”

“Very well,” she said, kissing Pippin. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

Pippin remained staining in the middle of the sitting room, listening to the quiet; his thoughts sprinkled here and there among the roomful of memories of Lilas. He gazed at the bookcase that contained a growing number of children’s--books that Lilas and Gelly would often read together. The tablet and lead-stick that she used to write down a list of prospective nurses still lay upon the table. He smiled sadly to himself; Lilas wanted to personally interview each one. A game of Draughts, set and ready to play, sat atop a small board near the hearth. Ever since Merry taught Lilas the finer points of the game, she wanted to practice with Pippin at every opportunity until she felt she could win a game against her brother, Dabo.

“Hullo.”

Pippin startled at the voice. “Good morning, Saborra.”

The young lass sat up on the couch, wrapping herself in the quilt her own mother covered her with during the night. “I s’pose it is,” she replied, gawking at the private chattel of her sister and brother-in-law. She had been in her sister’s apartment many times throughout the course of her visit, but the elaborate tapestries and furnishings still mesmerized the Hobbiton tween. Her eyes fell on Pippin’s sorrowful countenance. “Ye’re sad.”

“I am,” said Pippin. “And so are you.”

“I want my sister t’ get better.”

“As do I.”

Saborra took in a long, deep breath, “Our Pa needs t’ know.”

Up until the wooden chair the old hobbit built for Rosebud arrived earlier in the week, Pippin had nothing nice to say about Mr. Silas, yet held his tongue in the presence of Lilas--and her family. In his reckoning, Silas had rejected his eldest daughter not once, not twice, but three times within the past six months. Granted, Lilas had brought trouble upon herself the first time back in Afteryule, but in Pippin’s mind, he saw nothing of what Lilas did as a reason for continual rejection by a parent--one of the two persons in life that should love their child unconditionally. “I’ll ask my friends if they are willing to ride to Hobbiton to notify your father.”

“I’d go there myself if I knew the way.”

Pippin gave his young sister-in-law a weak smile. It seemed that a feisty character was something that she and Lilas shared. Yes, they were indeed sisters. “That won’t be necessary--that is, unless you want to accompany them.”

“I do!” Saborra suddenly jumped up. “When do we go?”

Pippin answered her, “Not just now--I have yet to ask them, remember? Also, you may want to eat breakfast first. It’s a long ride to your house.”

“I know--I’ll go eat breakfast right now.” Then Saborra called over her shoulder as she exited the apartment, “Don’t let them leave without me!”

“Good morning, Lilas,” Pippin said as he closed the bedroom door behind himself.” He had lingered in the sitting room for a while, contemplating on the grim days to come before summoning the courage to face Lilas.

“G’mornin’.” Rosebud just finished up her breakfast as Lilas reclined upon hers and Pippin’s pillows.

Lilas didn’t know what to think; if it wasn’t a lad’s night out, then what in the Shire would keep him out all night? Should she be angry, or should she be concerned? She decided the latter when her eyes met with his. “What’s wrong, Pippin?”

Pippin sat upon the bed next to his wife and daughter, “Nothing,” he answered, then looked away.

“Ye’re a terrible liar,” said Lilas. “Almost as bad as I am.” Pippin didn’t laugh or even break a smile. Rosebud was once again wrapped and warm in her blanket, getting settled into her cradle by her grandma. Lilas waited until her mother was done before posing her question. “Ma--would ye excuse me an’ Pippin?”

Lilly leaned down to kiss her own daughter, “Ye’re not needin’ anythin’?”

“No, ma--thank ye for staying.”

“No thanks needed, lass,” Lilly replied, giving her bravest smile. Though when Lilas wasn’t looking, Lilly glanced at her mournful son-in-law as she walked towards the door. Pippin held her gaze for a second, then looked away.

Once the door was shut, Lilas laid her hand upon Pippin’s arm, “What’s botherin’ ye? Ye might as well tell me, Pippin--ye know I’ll keep pressin’ ye until ye spill it all out.” She smiled when she spoke the last part, but then caught sight of tears welling in his eyes. Lilas grew serious, “Did I say or do something t’ upset ye?”

Pippin shook his head, wiping his tears with his hands. He had tried so hard to hold them back. He felt her fingers slip between his, taking his hand into her own.

Lilas couldn’t remember her husband looking so wretched. She held his hand and kissed it, “Talk t’ me, love.”

Pippin sighed, sniffling as he wondered where to begin. “Well,” he started in a soft, weak voice. “Merimas told me something yesterday that…” He stopped, fumbling for his next words.

Lilas looked towards Pippin, puzzled at his words. “Merimas told ye what?

“How’s your belly ache?” Pippin asked, avoiding a direct approach, though he strained to control his emotion in his voice.

“It’s not any worse,” she answered.

“But it’s not any better, right?”

Lilas shook her head in confusion, “What are ye gettin’ at, Pippin?”

Pippin sighed loudly, wiping his eyes again. “You’re very sick, Lilas.” There. It was about as blunt as he could be at the moment.

“I’ve been sick before,” she said. “It’ll pass.” Why was her beloved on the verge of tears? When Pippin turned to look at her, Lilas saw the dam of emotion waiting to burst forth in the depths of his green eyes. “Pippin?” Lilas returned his gaze, combing his curls with her fingers as she often did, then pulled him into a tender hug. Suddenly her stomach felt heavy; like the weight of a bag of sand, nauseating her. She lay her own face on Pippin’s shoulder as they embraced; they shook as he sobbed. Her own face became pallid, revealing a blank expression. After a moment she loosed her weeping husband, turned away from him, curling up into a fetal position, stunned at the realization. Her voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not gonna get well this time?”

“Lilas…” Pippin faltered, lying down next to her, holding her close, yet she said nothing. Her back was to him as they nestled together, and for a long time they lay in silence. Only when Rosebud awoke for elevenses did they stir from one another. Pippin tenderly kissed Lilas’ shoulder, “I’ll get her for you.” When he handed the baby to her, he noticed her own red eyes and nose. Both tweens had wept long together. Before totally relinquishing Rosebud, he leaned in to very gently kiss Lilas.

Whether he was “in” love with her or not was a moot point now. Pippin did know in his heart that he loved Lilas dearly--most especially as the mother of his child and a devoted companion--yet his heart was breaking all the same. His next words were every bit as truth: “I love you, Lilas.”

For a moment, a flicker of light danced in her soft, brown eyes, and just as quickly it was gone; her attention being given to her nursing daughter.

Lilas wiped her eyes with her free hand, “I am goin’ t’ get better, Pippin. Just watch and see.” Though deep in her heart she knew that this was just meager hope.

Meanwhile, Saborra waited on no one. That morning, after she ate a good breakfast, she enlisted the help of her eldest brother and Mister Meriadoc Brandybuck, who agreed to guide the siblings through the short-cut across the fields towards Hobbiton. Only Milas and Merry were proficient pony riders, however, that didn’t stop Saborra from keeping up with them--racing whenever possible. Along the way, Saborra rehearsed in her head what she would say to her father--and she would win the argument this time.

Pearl Took held the hand of her three-year-old daughter, Juniper, as they made their way towards the Smials’ kitchen. Approaching the doorway, they heard something drop and loudly clang inside the kitchen--and then some very not-so-nice language. “Pippin!” Pearl stood covering Juniper’s ears with her hands.

Pippin picked up the lid from the floor, letting out a grunt--out of frustration of his burned finger and of embarrassment at uttering vulgarity in front of his young niece. He took it to the water pump to rinse off.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked, fully entering the kitchen with her daughter. Sitting Juniper upon a high stool, Pearl poured her daughter a small mug of milk then set a plate of biscuits next to the mug. “Use both hands, Junie,” Pearl instructed, assisting the little faunt.

Still sucking on his burning finger, Pippin answered, “I’m trying to make a pot of chicken stew for Lilas. She wants to see if her grandmother’s stew will have the same effect on her as it had on me a couple months ago--but it’ll never get it done because I keep burning my fingers.”

Pearl, like the rest of Pippin’s dear family, had learned about the gravity of Lilas’ illness the evening before. Gazing about, she indeed saw the makings of a chicken stew were scattered all over the table. She remembered that Pippin had never been a neat cook. “That’s because you’re not concentrating. May I?” Pearl indicated she wanted the wooden spoon her brother held in his good hand. Taking it, she stirred the boiling contents inside the pot. “Smells good.” Then she used the spoon to taste the stew. “Not bad--though I think it’s missing something…”

“I put in all the seasoning that the recipe called for.”

Pearl took another taste, thinking hard this time. “Celery.” She walked up next to her brother to read the recipe. “See--right…there.” It took Pearl a second, but she understood the elementary cursive writing her young sister-in-law wrote--it helped to have three children of her own in which she had a hand in their learning to spell and write.

Pippin looked closely at the paper, “Oh. I thought she wrote “cellar”--as in, the vegetables are in the cellar.”

Pearl went down to the cellar, returning after she found the missing ingredient then quickly sliced it to add to the stew. She and Pippin stood in subdued reflection while the stew was cooking and Juniper ate her last biscuit.

Pearl loathed to ask this next question of her brother, but it was out of concern for her baby niece. “Have you given any thought as to what you will do with Rosebud?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Have you thought about finding a wet-nurse for Rosebud? You cannot wait until the last minute, Pip.”

Pippin felt his anxiety level rising again; that was one of the things his father brought up during their long talk in the night. That was yet another aspect of this unfolding drama that he did not want to face. “Why is everyone wanting to hasten things?! I don’t--” he stopped when he saw little Juniper gaping at him. He hadn’t noticed how loud his voice was getting with every word, and he certainly didn’t want to appear to be yelling at her momma. Pippin took in a calming breath before continuing. “I don’t think it’s needed just yet.”

Pearl also kept her voice low, “Don’t wait on this matter. Pretty soon Lilas is going to feel too sick to nurse your daughter. You can’t expect Rosebud to suddenly jump from her mother to a strange hobbit-woman in one feeding. Choosing a wet-nurse takes time, brother. Just because a woman is able to nurse doesn’t necessarily qualify her milk.”

“I don’t wish to talk about this right now,” he said tersely. “Please,” he added more softly.

Frustrated by her brother avoiding an important issue, Pearl went to the table to check on Juniper’s progress. The child’s mug was empty, along with the plate of biscuits. “Come along, love. Let’s leave Uncle Pippin to his stewing.” She met Pippin’s sharp glance as she led Juniper by the hand out of the kitchen.

“Mmm,” Lilas swallowed another spoonful of stew. “Almost as good as when I make it.” She smiled, though weakly, at Pippin when he looked at her. “I’m jesting, Pippin. It’s very good.” Her spirits rose a tad when Pippin walked in the room with a tray laden with the chicken stew, though her mood was still laced with a certain melancholy. Her hopes were placed on this pot of stew.

Pippin set his empty bowl on top of his night table. Digging into his breeches pocket he pulled out a folded bit of paper. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a scribbled word.

Lilas glanced at the word on the paper, “Celery.”

“C-e-l-l-a-r-y? That’s not how it’s spelled,” Pippin grinned, doing his best to keep his wife in a light humor.

“That’s how I spell it,” Lilas grinned back, then set aside her half finished bowl. She brought her blankets up, snuggling next to Pippin.

Pippin gasped, nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt her icy hands slip under his shirt and touch is bare skin. He spoke through clenched teeth, “Come here, my little ice block, and get warm.”

“My hands and feet are freezin’,” she replied, nuzzling as close as she could. Just then a soft knock could be heard upon the bedroom door.

“Pip? Are you in there?”

It was Merry. Pippin knew Merry would not enter without his leave, but he had been informed that his cousin had left for Hobbiton with Saborra and Milas. Kissing Lilas’ dark red curls, he got up, “I’ll just be a moment.”

“Hurry back,” whispered Lilas as she nestled upon Pippin’s warm pillow.

Quietly opening the door, Pippin slipped out into the sitting room. “Is he here?”

“He is,” said Merry. “He’s with Lilly and Saborra outside in the hall. While you’re talking to them, I’ll find the caretaker to prepare one of the family suites for the Broadhammers.”

“Thank you, Merry.” Pippin let out a tense breath as he entered the sitting room. What would he say to the hobbit who had done nothing to help his daughter these past six months?

All of a sudden, Pippin felt Merry wrapping his arms around him. Merry spoke softly, “I’ m sorry, cousin.” When Merry broke away, his eyes glistened with tears. “We’re here for you, Pippin--Frodo and I. Anytime you want to talk or just sit in comfortable silence, we’re here.”

Pippin was indeed truly grateful for is friends. “Thanks.”

Merry held the door open for Lilly and Silas to enter, then shut the door as he left to conduct his own task. To Pippin, Mr. Silas had changed quite a bit. He seemed more bent, grayer along his hairline, with somber features on his face. Was this the result of his guilty conscience? He was almost looked too pathetic for Pippin to berate…almost. The young Took went straight to the point. “I won’t have you telling her anything except what a lovely daughter she is and how much she has made you happy all these years. You will not say anything to her that will make her feel inadequate.” He added more firmly, “You will apologize to Lilas for your behavior towards her--for sending her away from her family with no more than a piece of luggage and her wits. And you will tell her you’re sorry for not coming out of your room when we visited a few months ago.”

“Aye,” answered the humbled hobbit. He learned he had truly been a fool to send away his daughter. Lilas may have been the subject of conversation at the Green Dragon for a few weeks, but he had learned the hard way that the cold rejection of his flesh and blood was the topic of discussion all over the Westfarthing these past five months. “Can I see my daughter now…please?”

“Yes, you may.” Pippin stepped aside from his father-in-law’s path, allowing him to see Lilas for the first time since Afteryule, and his granddaughter for the first time ever.