Piecing Us Together

When puzzle art imitates life it makes for a happy Labor Day.... and what is it about those handsome guys with salt-n-pepper hair? Find out in this sweet romance by Katie Fitzgerald

“You’re sure you’ll be okay, Mom?” asked Kayla, poking her head out onto the front porch of the lakehouse, already wearing her lifejacket.

Lydia sighed. It was terrible luck to have broken her leg just before her Labor Day weekend getaway. Now she had to sit here in a wheelchair with her leg propped up while her seventeen-year-old daughter went kayaking with Lydia’s brother and sister-in-law.

“Go on, and enjoy yourself.” She shooed her daughter away. “I’m fine here with my puzzle. I’m working on the people here in the middle.” The picture on the box showed a dock with a couple in silhouette leaning in for a kiss under a perfect pink-and-orange sunset. When she’d bought the puzzle, Lydia had imagined this might be the year she met someone at the lake.

She had been single for ages, and with Kayla set to leave home in another year, it felt like time for a new chapter. But who was she going to meet sitting here? Her injury had basically eliminated the possibility of making a romantic connection.

“Okay,” Kayla said, blowing a kiss. “But call if you want us to come back.”

“Will do,” Lydia promised. “If you see any old friends, say hi from me.”

Swirling the pieces around on the card table, Lydia continued hunting for the pieces that comprised the man and woman at the center of her puzzle. When she finally spotted the man’s arm, she grabbed for it, but her finger slipped, sending the desired piece and several others skittering to the wooden porch floor. She tried bending over sideways to grab them, but no matter what she did, the cast wouldn’t allow her into a position where she could reach.

She slid the box closer to herself, ready to pack up the puzzle until movement down by the water distracted her. A man docked his rowboat, wiped his hands on his cargo shorts, and then came up the path.

“Lydia?”

“Henry! What a pleasant surprise!” Henry’s house was two doors down, but he’d been gone during Lydia’s Labor Day visit last year. She hadn’t allowed herself to hope she’d see him this time. She had wondered, honestly, if she’d ever see his salt-and-pepper hair and warm brown eyes again.

“I just saw your girl,” he said. “She told me you’re laid up. What happened? Too many high kicks at Zumba?”

Lydia laughed. “Nothing as glamorous as that,” she said. “I fell down the cellar stairs carrying flower pots.”

“Ouch,” said Henry. He glanced at the porch floor. “I saw that precarious lean you were doing. Did you lose something?”

“Oh, just part of this puzzle,” she said dismissively, but Henry was already bending down. He laid the wayward pieces on the table, then snatched one up and stuck it in its proper place.

“Can I join you for a bit?” He gestured to the Adirondack chair nearby.

“Please,” Lydia said. “But don’t let me keep you too long. It’s beautiful out there today.”

Henry scoffed. “There’s plenty of beauty right here,” he said with an easy grin.

Lydia felt a hint of pink come into her cheeks. Henry was always quick with compliments. “This sunset, maybe,” she said, running her fingers along the finished portion of the puzzle.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Henry, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I was really looking forward to seeing you. Thought maybe I’d take you to the dance over at the clubhouse tomorrow night.”

Lydia felt a pang of disappointment. “I wish I could,” she said wistfully.

“No matter,” said Henry. “We’ll find another excuse to be together.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” said Lydia. “I know how much you love dancing. I’m sure you can find a partner.” Maybe she was being too selfless, but she truly didn’t want Henry to suffer on her account, even if she did very much want to spend as much time with him as possible now that he was here.

“I probably could, but she wouldn’t be you,” Henry said.

Lydia looked down shyly. Suddenly, among the array of jigsaw pieces, her eyes found the man’s legs, torso, and head. She plucked them one by one and added them to the puzzle.

“Nearly there,” Henry commented. Then, reaching past Lydia, he allowed his hand to brush hers before he snatched up the pieces that made up the woman’s silhouette and laid them down in their correct places.

Lydia reached for his hand, pressing their palms together, but kept looking at the puzzle picture. “So romantic,” she said softly.

“Just like this,” Henry said, and he intertwined their fingers and lifted her hand to his lips.

Together, they finished the puzzle. When she locked in the final piece, Lydia smiled over at Henry. The picture was complete, and now, so was her vacation.