Colin ignored her question and spoke bravely. “I could come to you,” he offered.
“I still have Tiger,” she said.
“I think it's time I made peace with him,” Colin said softly, and he could almost hear his aunt smile on the other end of the phone.
“I think that would be good,” Aunt Sadie said.
“Me, too.”
“I just started dinner.”
“I could eat,” Colin said, as his stomach growled in agreement.
“Well, come on over then. It's about time you came home.”
Colin said a few more words before ending the call. His aunt was right. It was about time.
He climbed into a taxi and gave the driver his aunt's address. The city of Spokane passed by his window as they drove, but Colin didn't notice. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. As the taxi moved through the downtown streets, he was lost in the recesses of his memory, and the scenery he saw was a more dated version of what lay before him. Ten minutes later the taxi driver arrived at the address his passenger had offered.
The street looked exactly the same, and Colin paid the driver, and heard the taxi drive away. He stood looking at the little house for several minutes. Slowly he walked up the driveway. He was a grown man, for crying out loud. How could a small dog scare him so? It was hard to make peace with one's past, and he was facing his head on, as he stepped up to the door and knocked timidly.
His aunt opened the door and Colin looked into her smiling face. She'd aged, as he had, but he would have known her anywhere. She was only twelve years his senior, born late in the lives of her parents, and almost seventeen years after her sister, Colin's late mother.
“Hi, Aunt Sadie,” he said, as she held the door. He paused for only a moment before stepping inside.
“Colin,” she said, as she reached out to hug him. “You look good.”
“So do you,” he replied, as he stepped back so she could look at him more closely.
“You still look like a kid,” she said, and he chuckled.
“I don't know about that,” he offered, glancing around the house.
It appeared to have changed little over the years, but the orange shag carpet was gone, replaced by a handsome Berber, and the fireplace had been updated. Family photos lined the mantle, many of them memories of Colin's own past.
A small dog appeared in the kitchen doorway and Colin inhaled sharply.
“He looks different,” Colin whispered, and his aunt turned.
“That's not him,” she said, as a second dog appeared behind the first. “That's him,” Aunt Sadie said, as Colin dropped to his knees. The dog was a terrier mix, a handsome mutt with a wiry brown and black coat. His deep brown eyes stared back at Colin.
“Hey, Tiger,” Colin said, in little more than a whisper. He suppressed the urge to cry as he beckoned to the dog. Tiger approached cautiously, and then, as if sensing the magnitude of the moment, stopped. “It's okay,” Colin said, and only then did his tears come. Suddenly he laughed, and the dog jumped. He'd startled him. “I've become quite a crybaby these last couple of days,” Colin said, standing when the dog wouldn't come to him.
“No shame in crying, son,” his aunt said, and Colin smiled as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
“He hates me,” Colin said, looking at the dog who still stood several feet from him.
“He's a dog, Colin. He doesn't understand. He probably just senses the tension. It's hard to face the past.”
“No kidding.”
“Would you like some coffee?” Aunt Sadie asked.
“That would be good,” Colin said graciously.
“Give him a minute. He'll warm up to you.”
Colin followed his aunt into the kitchen, and as he did, he noticed she had updated most of the house. It was different than he remembered, but in many ways the same, and hauntingly familiar.
The coffee mug steamed on the table in front of him, and his aunt took the chair opposite his. She looked at him for several seconds before speaking.
“It was never really about the dog, Colin, was it?” she asked, and Colin inhaled sharply. She knew how to start with the hard questions. She always had. In that way she was like her sister.
“He was an easy scapegoat,” Colin admitted, and his aunt smiled.
As if on cue, the little dog rounded the table and sat at his feet. He stared at the animal for several seconds before patting his lap invitingly. The dog paused, but only for a moment, and then, as if sensing the truce being offered, the wiry mutt jumped into Colin's lap.
“Is this okay?” Colin asked, respectful of his aunt.
“I think it's great,” she whispered.
The dog sat on Colin's lap and stared at him. “I forgive you,” Colin whispered, looking at the dog, his aunt, then back at the dog. The dog looked at him with sad eyes and Colin heard his aunt weeping softly.
The dog, seemingly sensing the man's sadness, whimpered softly, and Colin scratched his head gently. “I miss them, too,” Colin whispered, bending down to kiss the dog's tiny head.
“So do I,” Aunt Sadie said, standing and heading to the bathroom for a box of Kleenex.
When she returned a moment later, she saw a grown man hugging a small dog to his chest, and weeping for the parents he'd lost. She smiled at them through her tears as she watched silently from the doorway.
“It's just who they were, Colin,” she explained, and Colin sniffed loudly.
“I know,” he said, taking the box of Kleenex from her. “I don't think I ever really dealt with their deaths,” he admitted, and his aunt nodded.
“You left so quickly after the funeral. There was so much I wanted to say to you,” she said, and Colin sighed.
“It was too hard,” he said, and she nodded.
“I know. I was here,” Aunt Sadie said, and Colin grimaced. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to sound the way it did.”
“It's okay. I deserved that.”
“I needed you, Colin. I lost them, too,” she said, and he felt his tears come again.
“I couldn't let myself need you. I couldn't even let myself feel anything.”
“I know.”
“Do you ever wonder why it happened? Why they died?” Colin asked, looking at his aunt.
“Of course. Every day,” she admitted.
“Me, too.”
“It's not fair, but life rarely is.”
Colin looked at her. “I know,” he whispered. Unfair was a language he spoke fluently. He'd made a career out of it. “Why did she run into a burning house, Aunt Sadie?”
“It was who she was, Colin. She would have done that for anyone or anything she loved. Even if it cost her her life, which it did, it would have been worth it to her.”
“Dad was like that, too,” Colin said. Tiger whimpered softly, and Colin gently set the dog on the floor beside his feet.
“He was a good man, Colin. And just like your mom he would have died for someone he loved. He was that good a man. You're like that, too,” Aunt Sadie whispered, and Colin looked back at her with a start.
Was he? Was he that good a man? “I'm not sure,” Colin said.
“I am. You'd die for that girl you love. If you think about it, you'll know it's true.”
“We're not together,” he whispered.
“Dear God, what happened?”
“I fucked up.”
“Colin!”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Oh, I don't care about the “f” word. I slip sometimes, myself. In fact, I think I let that one go last week, when that little shit and his girlfriend were on the table, sampling my chili,” she admitted, pointing at the dog.
“I remember that chili,” Colin said, smiling.
“What do you think is simmering on the stove?” she asked, and Colin felt his mouth water.
“I knew I smelled something.”
“We'll give it another few minutes. While we wait you can tell me about Karen.”
“Caitlin.”
&n
bsp; “Right, Caitlin. What happened, Colin?”
“This is going to sound crazy, but I don't know.”
“How are you going to fix it, if you don't know?”
“What makes you think I want to fix it?” he asked.
“I heard your voice when you said her name. I saw your eyes.”
“You were always good with that stuff.”
“I still am.”
“Then why are you alone?”
“What makes you think I am?” she asked, and Colin's jaw went slack.
“Aunt Sadie!” he said, glad to change the subject, something not lost on his aunt.
“You're changing the subject,” she said, seemingly reading his mind.
“Who is he?” Colin asked.
“His name is Stuart. He's an entertainment lawyer. He's fifty. That's his dog,” she said, motioning to the small terrier sleeping beside Tiger. “Her name is Tiffany.”
“You're dating a man with a dog named Tiffany?”
“Not exactly.”
“What then?”
“We're getting married in June,” she said, and Colin noticed she suddenly looked like a young girl, like the Aunt Sadie he remembered from his boyhood.
“That's awesome,” he said. “Where is this lawyer? I'd like to meet him.”
“You will, if you and Caitlin come to the wedding. He's out of town on business.”
“I don't imagine Caitlin will be coming,” Colin said sadly.
“You still love her,” Aunt Sadie said, and although it wasn't a question, Colin nodded.
“Yup,” he said, sounding wistful.
“So, fix it.” Aunt Sadie said.
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.”
“No, it's not.”
“Does she still love you?” Aunt Sadie asked, and Colin shrugged.
“I don't know. I don't even know where she is.”
“I'd suggest you find her.”
“Anything else?” Colin asked.
“Yes, the chili's ready,” she said, and Colin smiled.
“Sounds good.”
“Welcome home, son.”
“Thanks, Aunt Sadie.”
Twenty-one
Caitlin woke on Tuesday morning after a fitful night with little sleep. As she expected, the first night away from the hospital with the twins was difficult, and she groaned as she climbed out of bed. She crossed the room, and peeked into the Sleep-Aways that laid side by side on her bedroom floor. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled.
“Now you sleep,” she said, crossing to the window. A police car sat in the driveway. “Now what the hell happened?” she wondered, heading downstairs as quickly as her still-battered body would allow.
Nathan Parker sat at the kitchen table in a sheriff's uniform. Rita leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“You're a cop?” Caitlin asked from the doorway.
They hadn't heard her approach and both Nathan and Rita turned to look at her.
“Yup,” Nathan said.
“Since when?” Caitlin asked, taking the cup of coffee Rita offered.
“About a year now?” Nathan replied, looking at Rita.
“Sounds right,” Rita confirmed.
“What about Wall Street?” Caitlin asked, lowering herself into the chair beside Nathan.
“It's still there.”
“You left?” she asked, her astonishment evident.
“I got fired,” he admitted.
“Fired. Wow,” Caitlin said, sounding surprised, but feeling ashamed that she hadn't known. How could she have? She hadn't asked.
“Yeah,” Nathan said, and Caitlin realized she hadn't been listening. “I took a month off after Patti died, and I was on the train one day, heading back, and I just couldn't. I called them and told them I needed a little more time. My boss was understanding. About a week later I got a letter telling me I was terminated without cause.”
“What did you do?” Caitlin asked, genuinely interested.
“Well, if I hadn't been so damned sad I may have danced. I hated that job. It kept me away from Patti, and Erica. I missed so much of their lives, and then Patti's life ended. I didn't want to make the same mistake with Erica.”
“Hmm,” Caitlin said, thinking about what Nathan had said. “I'm sorry I didn't know, Nathan. And, I'm more sorry that I never asked. I'm starting to realize how much I've missed. I shouldn't have stayed away so long.”
“It's okay,” Nathan said.
Was it? Was it okay to cut yourself off from people you loved? Caitlin didn't think so.
“How's your hand?” Caitlin asked, avoiding the topic of her thoughtlessness, in favor of the injuries he'd sustained retrieving her cat.
“It's better.”
“Did anyone ask you what happened?” Caitlin asked with curiosity.
“Yeah.”
“What'd you tell them?”
“I was apprehending a perpetrator.”
“Good one,” Caitlin said with a chuckle.
“So, what are you gonna do now?” Nathan asked thoughtfully.
“I'd like to take a shower,” Caitlin said.
“And, after the shower?” Nathan asked, arching a brow,
“Oh,” Caitlin said. “Yeah. What am I going to do?” Caitlin thought about it for several seconds, as Rita and Nathan eagerly awaited her response. “I'm going to write another book.”
“That's great, Caitlin,” Nathan offered.
“I hope it will be. The first one sucked.”
“Caitlin, it didn't suck,” Rita said in her defense.
“It sucked!” Caitlin replied vehemently.
“Okay, it wasn't great, but someone thought it was. It might be published, right?”
“Wrong,” Caitlin said.
“When did that change?” Rita asked.
“It's going to change when I call my agent and tell her I'm starting over with a new book. Besides, I don't want my name on that shit,” Caitlin said with a smile. Rita shook her head, likely at the profanity.
“Well, how about that,” Nathan said.
“I'm going to start another book while I'm here,” Caitlin said. “I have eight weeks to figure out what to do.”
“Eight weeks?” Rita asked.
“That's how long maternity leave is.”
“Gotcha,” Rita said, as the monitor beside Caitlin came to life with baby sounds.
“They're up,” Caitlin said.
“Can I get them?” Rita asked.
“Sure,” Caitlin said, “although I need to get into a routine.”
“Why don't you take a shower, and you can be a single mother starting tomorrow,” Rita offered, and Caitlin sighed with a mixture of sadness and appreciation.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, I gotta go fight crime,” Nathan said, putting his hat on, and tipping it to Caitlin, who smiled at the gesture.
“Is there much crime here?” Caitlin asked, helping herself to a second cup of coffee.
“Not really. Drunken tourists mostly. I primarily patrol, but every once in a while we get something. I love it though. I really do,” he admitted.
“I'm glad, Nathan. You deserve to have something you really love,” Caitlin said.
“So do you,” he said, slipping out the door into the morning sun.
Caitlin sighed at his parting remark, and leaned her ample backside against the counter. Through the baby monitor she could hear Rita talking to the twins. One gurgled in response, and she heard her mother laugh. Suddenly Rita began singing, and Caitlin smiled as she listened. “I Love Rock'n Roll” wasn't exactly a lullaby, but Caitlin had to appreciate Rita's effort.
Caitlin finished her second cup of coffee, rinsed the mug, and left it in the sink. She started the shower in the downstairs' bath, and gingerly stepped into the tub. She swayed slightly from the weakness that lingered in her body, but slowly she felt herself regaining strength. The hot spray felt wonderful, and before she knew it, she
too was serenading no one in particular with the old Joan Jett song.
“It's catchy, isn't it?” Rita asked from the doorway, and Caitlin laughed.
“It is,” Caitlin said, as she squeezed shampoo into her right hand.
“Did you get a towel?” Rita asked.
“No, I was so excited about the shower, I forgot.”
“Want a big one?” Rita asked.
“Have you seen the size of my body?” Caitlin asked in response.
“One day you'll forgive yourself for that, Cate.”
“Can I start that tomorrow, too?”
“I suppose. Your towel is on the sink. I'm going to start the formula and then we can get these kids fed. You can come and hang out with me in the shop later if you want.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Caitlin said. She knew Rita was really trying, and she appreciated the effort.
When Caitlin had finished her shower and towel dried her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom to find Rita in the kitchen with the twins. She had them loaded into their stroller in the middle of the floor.
“I changed them and dressed them,” Rita said, without turning around from the stove.
“Mom, you didn't have to do all that,” Caitlin said. “But, I do appreciate it.”
“I know,” Rita said, without a hint of her normal smugness.
“Boy, you look like a pro. Hard to believe you only had me to practice on.”
If Rita had been facing away from the stove, Caitlin would have seen the dark shadow cross her face. But, the shadow went unnoticed, as did the sadness that accompanied it.
“Mmm hmm,” Rita said, without turning. A moment later she did turn around with a bottle of formula in each hand.
“Which one do you want?” Rita asked.
“I'll take Rogan. I didn't hold him much last night,” Caitlin said.
“Okay, I'll take Hannah then.”
“So, what's going on in the shop today?” Caitlin asked, sitting at the table with her son in her arms.
“Mr. Robles died,” Rita answered, as she lifted Hannah from the stroller.
“Diana Robles's father?” Caitlin asked.
“Yes. He had a heart attack last week.”
“That's too bad. He was a nice man.”
“Yes, he was. He was Ella's friend years ago.”
The House of Roses Page 12