The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

  “She's learning,” Rita said to the babies, as Caitlin returned to the kitchen. Rogan looked freshly changed, and both babies were back in the stroller. The coffee pot was gurgling on the counter, and Caitlin arched a brow at it.

  “Mom, what's up with the coffee pot?”

  “Oh, dammit! I forgot to put the top on the carafe,” Rita said, grabbing towels from a basket in the corner.

  “There're grounds everywhere.”

  “I know,” Rita said. Coffee and grounds continued to spill over the basket and run down the pot onto the counter. A puddle of coffee had formed, and was running onto the floor in a steady stream. Caitlin grabbed for a handful of paper towels, and shut off the pot.

  Rita was on her knees mopping up the floor. She finished and lofted the towels over her head, aiming for the sink, but missing by a foot. She sat on the floor with her back against the counter, looked up at her daughter and sighed. “How does tea sound?” she asked, and Caitlin laughed.

  “Tea's fine, Mom. I'll make it.”

  “While you do that, we need to think about dinner,” Rita said. She clumsily contorted and turned, and struggled to stand, looking as though she were deep into a game of Twister.

  “Can I help you, Mom?”

  “Nope. I know better than to sit like that,” she said breathlessly. “Okay, I'm good now. I need to get back to my exercise class. Bodies like this need work.”

  “Working out is good. You should walk more.”

  “How was your walk? You were gone a long time,” Rita said, as Caitlin poured tea.

  “It was good. We walked along the canal, and then I went to visit Daddy's grave. I think I found Charles's grave, Mom. Ella's friend.” Caitlin couldn't see Rita's face, but she was sure she saw immediate tension in her mother's body. “Mom? Who was Charles Tayler? Is he related to us?” Caitlin asked, as Rita reached for a mug of tea.

  “Why do you ask?” Rita said, forcing herself to sound casual.

  “There are flowers planted at his grave. Flowers that look a lot like the ones at Daddy's,” Caitlin said, as she slid herself carefully into a kitchen chair.

  “And that makes you think we're related?” Rita asked.

  “Well, no,” Caitlin said, sipping gently at the hot tea. “The flowers make me think of Ella. It looks like her work. His last name makes me think we're related.”

  “Hollings and Tayler?” Rita asked, sitting across from her daughter.

  “Rita, don't be coy,” Caitlin said, sounding annoyed.

  “Who's coy?”

  “Mom! Tayler........my middle name. T.A.Y.L.E.R! Sound familiar?” Caitlin asked, watching Rita carefully to gauge her reaction.

  “What are you asking, Cate?” Rita asked, and to Caitlin she looked genuinely frightened.

  “Am I named after Charles Tayler?”

  “What difference does it make?” Rita tried to sound casual, but inside she was terrified. She always knew this day would come, but frankly, she'd expected it long before. Forty-four years was a long time to keep a secret.

  “What difference does it make if you answer me?” Caitlin asked, as Rogan began to fuss. Caitlin crossed the room to take her son from the stroller.

  “Do you want me to take him?” Rita asked.

  “No, I want you to tell me what's going on here.”

  “I can't. Not like this.”

  “Then how, and when?”

  “Caitlin, it's a long story, and I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you.”

  “Then who should? You're my mother!” Caitlin said, nearly shouting, and Rita looked like she had been struck. “You are my mother, aren't you?” Caitlin asked, and although her face was red, her voice was far more gentle.

  “Cate,” Rita said, nearly begging.

  “Mom, please. I'm an adult. Whatever happened, I deserve to know. If not for me, then for your grandchildren.”

  “That's not fair,” Rita said with a sigh.

  “Neither is this.”

  Rita sighed again. Caitlin was right. It wasn't fair. She deserved the truth, and Rita paused for only a moment, just long enough to ask for the strength to tell it.

  Twenty-seven

  Liz Parker had napped for two hours when the phone rang, waking her instantly. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, but then she recognized her living room. The phone rang from the arm of the couch where she had been sleeping.

  “Howie?” Liz said, expecting to hear her husband's voice. The caller was not her husband, and Liz felt frightened as she listened to the strange voice. “Yes, this is Liz Parker,” she said, trying to force the sleep from her voice. She listened carefully, coming fully awake almost instantly. “I don't understand,” Liz said, sounding frantic. “You said she was better.”

  A soft knock sounded at the front door, and Liz rose from the couch on trembling legs. Her son, looking handsome and official in his police uniform, stood on her porch. She opened the door and Nathan Parker stepped into the foyer.

  “Mom,” he said softly, and Liz motioned him to come farther into the house.

  “It's the hospital,” she whispered, and although her voice was calm, fear burned brightly in her eyes. “I'll be there as soon as I can. I understand. I'll call her.”

  “Mom,” Nathan said again, this time without whispering, as Liz Parker laid the phone down on the coffee table. “What happened?” he asked, sitting on the sofa beside his mother, and taking her hand in his. “Did Aunt Ella die?” Liz could hear the pain in his voice. Death frightened him so, and he'd already had great loss in his life. Liz looked at her son. His eyes looked pained, and she saw the beginning of tears welling there.

  “No.........”

  “But she's worse?” Nathan asked, and Liz began to cry.

  “Yes, she's worse.”

  “What happened, Mom?” Nathan asked, taking his mother into his strong arms.

  “She's diabetic. She never knew. The nurse said diabetes causes heart failure. Ella had a heart attack. They're not sure she'll make it through the night.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Me too, Nathan,” Liz said. “I have to call Rita. Ella wants to see her and Caitlin.”

  “I'll call. You go change, Mom.”

  “Thanks, honey. Her cell number is on that pad by the phone.”

  Nathan picked up the phone. He felt the sob welling in his throat, but he needed to be strong for his mother, and so, he forced it back. His hand trembled as he read the number and punched it into the phone. His call went to voice mail. He spoke carefully, and calmly, and when he was done, he laid the phone on the table.

  “What's the number at the house, Mom? Rita doesn't answer her cell.”

  “It's in my address book in my purse.”

  “We'll call her from the car,” Nathan said. He set his hat on the couch beside him. He was Deputy Nathan Parker, a man who had learned to control his emotions, but to his Aunt Ella, he was “Noonie”, a small boy who loved his mother's sister with all his heart. He listened to the sounds of his mother moving around above him, as one by one his tears fell into his lap.

  ***

  “Mom, your cell is ringing,” Caitlin yelled up the stairs.

  “Let it go,” Rita called back, appearing at the top of the stairs with a photo album.

  “What if it's important?” Caitlin asked.

  “If it is, they'll leave a message. This is more important,” Rita said timidly, as she descended the stairs. Rita sat at the kitchen table and laid the photo album in front of her. Caitlin stood in the doorway watching her carefully.

  “I gave birth to a little girl almost six years before you were born,” Rita said softly, and Caitlin gasped.

  “I have a sister?” Caitlin asked, crossing the kitchen to sit across from her mother.

  “You did. She was five years old when she died. Her name was Margaret.”

  “After Grandma,” Caitlin said softly.

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to her, Mom?” Caitlin asked,
the calm in her tone caused by the sudden numbness she felt.

  “She died from the flu. Children die from the flu, not so much now as then, but they do. It nearly killed your daddy and me to bury her.”

  “I'm sorry. Why didn't you ever tell me?” Caitlin asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “It's a long story, Cate.” Rita said.

  “I am gathering that. I need to know, Mom, and I think you need to tell me.”

  “I do.”

  Rita opened the photo album. Old pictures, yellow with age, stared up at both women.

  “Is that my sister?” Caitlin asked, pointing to a photo of a little girl with blond hair.

  “Yes,” Rita said, choking back a sob.

  “She was beautiful,” Caitlin said, in little more than a whisper.

  “Yes, she was.”

  Rita turned the page. Caitlin recognized her father immediately. He held the hand of the little girl who had been her sister. They stared at each other in the photo, and it was obvious how much her father had adored the child whose hand he held.

  “He was devastated,” Rita said. “I don't think I've ever seen a man more heartbroken.”

  “Oh, Mom. I'm so sorry.”

  “Me too, Cate. Me, too. It was an awful time for us. Everyone was so supportive, especially Ella. We lived in Philadelphia then. Ella came as soon as she heard. She was with us night and day. Look, Cate. Look at how young we were,” Rita said, as she held a loose photo of two very young women.

  “She was so pretty.”

  “She was.”

  “So were you, Mom,” Caitlin said.

  “This was taken the summer I met Ella. We were still teenagers. Ella used to come to Philadelphia every summer to spend time with her cousins. I remember the day I met her, Cate. We were best friends almost immediately. We still are.”

  “Oh, Mom. She looks beautiful here,” Caitlin said, pointing to another dated photo. “She looks so happy.”

  “She was. She was in love, Cate. She was in love with a man named Charles Tayler. She'd planned to marry him.”

  “But he died.”

  “He did. New Hope had quite an Indian summer that year. The weather was crazy. One day it was seventy degrees, the next day, it was twenty. Charles took care of Ella. He loved her maybe more than any man has ever loved a woman. We had a blizzard that year, in November. The heavy snow had taken down the power lines, and we had no electricity. It was pitch dark, and Ella and I were scared. Charles was on his way to see us.”

  “You were here?”

  “Yes. We were here with Ella's grandmother, Ada, who owned this house back then. I had come home with Ella after Margaret passed away. Daddy needed to work, not just because we were young and needed the money, but because he needed something other than heartbreak to occupy his mind. I couldn't be alone, and I needed to be someplace where no one knew me. I needed to be someplace where everyone I passed didn't have sympathy in their eyes. Ella was living here with her grandmother, who wasn't well. They took me in until Daddy found a job here,” Rita explained. She paused to look at her daughter. Caitlin stared down at her hands.

  Bravely Rita continued. “I'll never forget the night Charles died. Ella was on the porch waiting for him. She knew. When he was ten minutes late, she knew.”

  “What happened, Mom?”

  “Charles was on his way here. Honest to God, Cate, it was snowing so hard you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The roads were terrible. Charles lost control of his truck. He went off the road. A witness said the truck rolled four or five times before coming to rest on its roof, before coming to rest on top of Charles Tayler.”

  “Oh, Mom. How sad. Poor Ella,” Caitlin said.

  “She never got over that,” Rita said. “I'm not sure she ever got over any of it.”

  “There's more?” Caitlin asked.

  “Yes. Charles Tayler left something behind when he died. Something beautiful and heartbreaking,” Rita said, preparing herself for the words she always knew she'd one day say.

  “What?” Caitlin asked, as she watched Rita's eyes fill with tears.

  Rita brushed the tears away, and motioned Caitlin to follow her outside to the porch. Nervously she lit a cigarette as Caitlin watched. Rita's hands were shaking.

  “What did he leave?” Caitlin asked, wondering if she already knew.

  Rita took a deep drag on the cigarette, and watched as the smoke seemed to be drawn to the dim porch light.

  “You,” she said in barely a whisper.

  “Me?” Caitlin asked, as her eyes filled with tears. “I don't understand.”

  “I think you do, Cate.”

  “No, I don't. You had an affair with Charles Tayler?” Caitlin asked incredulously, reaching to take the pack of cigarettes from her mother's hand.

  “Of course not,” Rita said, lighting the cigarette Caitlin held with trembling fingers.

  “Then how is he my father?” Caitlin asked.

  “Because I'm not your mother,” Rita said, and only then did her tears come, hard and fast, and her shoulders shook as Caitlin watched helplessly.

  “What?” Caitlin asked, as she too began to cry.

  Both women wept softly, and neither said a word for several moments. Before either could speak, a car came up the driveway with lights flashing, followed by a second vehicle.

  “What the hell?” Caitlin asked, the news Rita had shared momentarily forgotten.

  Nathan Parker got out of the police car, devastation evident on his face. When he was close enough to be heard, he spoke softly. “Ella's worse. Mom is going to the hospital. You should come, Rita. You too, Cate.”

  “I can't go. What about the babies?” Caitlin asked, suddenly panicked.

  “I'll watch them,” Nathan offered.

  “Okay,” Caitlin whispered, sounding uncertain. She turned to Rita, who looked as if she'd been struck. “Maybe you should go with Liz. I think I should stay here.”

  “No, Cate. You need to come. Ella is your real mother,” Rita said, her voice barely audible.

  “What?” Caitlin whispered.

  “Oh my God!” Nathan said, as Liz Parker walked to his side.

  “It's true, Nate,” Liz said, taking her son's hand. “You're my niece, Caitlin.”

  “I don't understand this,” Caitlin said. Her thoughts were scattered, and she suddenly felt as though she were suffocating. The cigarette she'd lit had burned out in her fingers, and Nathan took it and dropped it to the ground. For a moment no one spoke, until finally Nathan broke the silence.

  “Go, Cate. Go with Rita. She'll explain. You can explain this to me later, Mom. You should be with Ella. You too, Cate. The kids will be fine with me.”

  “Thank you, Nathan,” Caitlin said, reaching out to hug the man she'd known as a friend, the man she just learned was her first cousin by birth.

  “I have your purse, Cate. There are bottles in the fridge, Nathan. You just need to heat them. They're fed again around nine, and then they go down for the night, or however long they'll sleep,” Rita said, without meeting anyone's eyes.

  “Are you sure about this, Nathan? Don't you want to be with Ella?” Caitlin asked, and Nathan sighed.

  “I do, but you need to go, Caitlin,” Nathan said with a weak smile.

  “Where's Erica?” Caitlin was worried about Nathan's daughter. He was a single father volunteering to baby-sit for her newborns. It wasn't an easy task.

  “She's with her friend Becca. They had cheer leading. I've already called Becca's mom. She said it was fine if Erica stayed the night. I'll stay here.”

  “If you're sure,” Caitlin said, still not convinced it was a good idea. Although it wasn't a question, Nathan answered quickly.

  “I'm sure, Caitlin,” he said, taking both of her hands in his much larger ones. “You really need to be with Ella. I don't understand this either, but if it's true, and I can't imagine anyone making something like this up, then you really need to be there, especially if..........,” hi
s words trailed off, and Caitlin nodded.

  “Okay. Call Mom's cell if you need us,” Caitlin said, avoiding Rita's eyes as she reached for her purse.

  “I will. Drive carefully. It's a really dark night.”

  “Thanks, Nate,” Caitlin said. She followed Rita to her SUV. Caitlin's shoulders were slumped and tears still ran down her face. She had two newborns, a lost love she missed so much it hurt, a dead sister she'd never known about, two dead fathers, one dying mother, another who looked like she'd like to die, and a family full of people who'd spent a lifetime deceiving her. She shivered, despite the balmy night air, and steadied herself against the side of the truck. It was too much at once, and she braced herself for what she knew would be a hell of a long night.

  Twenty-eight

  When Colin Thomas returned to his aunt's house, he found her on the patio. The dogs played in the back yard. Tiger ran to Colin's side when he heard him approach.

  “Hey, buddy,” Colin said, picking up the dog and hugging it to his chest.

  “Good to see you've made up,” Aunt Sadie said with an enormous smile. Colin took a chair at the patio set where she sat.

  “I listed the property today. I hope that doesn't upset you.”

  “I'd have been upset if you let it sit there much longer,” Aunt Sadie said. “Lemonade?” she asked, pointing to a pitcher.

  “That'd be nice. Thanks.”

  “How do you feel, Colin?” his aunt asked as she poured the lemonade.

  “Peaceful. Whole. Well......, almost.”

  “What would complete you, son?” she asked. Aunt Sadie had never sugar coated much, and she wasn't afraid to ask the hard questions. Obviously she hadn't changed.

  “A family,” he said softly, surprised it had taken him so long to realize it.

  “Cate?” his aunt asked, handing him the lemonade.

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding defeated.

  “You love her. I can tell.”

  “I do. Crazy, makes you sick to your stomach and so scared you can't breathe, kind of love,” he said, laughing at himself.