The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

  “Okay,” Caitlin said, as Rogan let out another scream.

  “He's an unhappy boy,” Rita said, sounding as exhausted as Caitlin felt.

  “Mom, do you still have a baby swing? I remember you had one in the shop once. I never got one. Maybe Rogan would like that.”

  “It's in the storage shed. I can get it,” Rita offered, but Caitlin shook her head.

  “You do enough. I'll get it,” Caitlin said, as she laid her daughter in the stroller. Hannah just looked at her, and Caitlin watched as her daughter's eyelids fluttered, and then closed. “She's gonna be like Daddy. He could sleep anywhere,” Caitlin said, and Rita smiled at the memory. Rogan began to cry again and his mother looked exasperated. “Let's try that swing. I'll be right back,” Caitlin said, disappearing out the side door into the early morning mist.

  The storage shed was only a few feet from the side of the house, and Caitlin reached it in less than a minute. The weathered door groaned in protest, and Caitlin reached into the darkness for the string she knew was attached to a single bulb in the shed.

  “Got it,” she said, as her fingers made contact with the string. The bulb came to life, illuminating the cluttered shed. “Lotta crap in here,” Caitlin whispered, as her eyes adjusted to the light. The swing was in the corner tucked behind an old bench. She reached down to move the bench, but something was wedged between its legs. It was a tiny cardboard box, and Caitlin picked it up, wiped the dust from its top, and gasped.

  “Margaret,” she whispered, reading the single word written on the box's cover. She felt like an intruder as she sat on the bench and laid the box in her lap. She knew she should set it aside, but she didn't. The tape came off easily, and Caitlin removed the top and set it on the floor at her feet. She pulled a small pink teddy bear from the box and held it to her chest. Her eyes filled as she imagined her mother and daddy packing the box so long ago. The contents must have been covered with their tears. Caitlin couldn't imagine what it was like to lose a child, and the thought made her sick. She had listened as Rita told her the story, but until this moment, it hadn't been real. She had a sister who had died. Caitlin's heart broke for her parents, and their loss, and she sat for several moments, crying and rocking back and forth, the pink bear held to her chest.

  “Are you all right?” Rita asked, and Caitlin jumped. Rita stood in the doorway holding the baby monitor. “I'd forgotten that was in here,” she said, and Caitlin looked away.

  “I'm sorry, Mom. I shouldn't have opened it.”

  “It's okay, Cate,” Rita said, sitting beside her daughter on the old bench.

  “I brought her home in this,” Rita said, pulling a pink sweater from the box. “She was so tiny. She was like Hannah.”

  “I am so sorry, Mom. I can't imagine what it did to you, to lose her. And then you kept her a secret, like she didn't exist at all. That must have been so painful for you. I really am sorry.”

  “I'm sorry too, Cate. Margaret was so sick, and so small, and I knew she was going to die, and I just sat there holding her day and night. There wasn't anything we could do. We just sat, and waited, knowing what was coming.”

  “Oh, Mommy,” Caitlin said, as she began to sob into her mother's shoulder.

  Rita took her daughter in her arms, and together they wept for the child Rita had lost, and the sister Caitlin had never known. And although there was still tension, they were joined in their sorrow, and something between them began to heal.

  “We should go back inside. Bring the box, honey. I'd like to go through it. I think there are some things there I'd like your children to have.”

  “I like this pink bear,” Caitlin said, sounding like a child. “Can I have this, Mom?”

  Rita smiled. “Of course, Cate. I wanted you to have it when you were a baby, but I couldn't bring myself to give it to you.”

  “I'll take good care of it.” Caitlin said, pulling it to her chest. She pulled the swing from behind the bench and followed her mother out of the small shed.

  “Mom?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Where's Margaret buried?”

  “With Grandma and Grandpa in Philadelphia.”

  “I'd like to visit her grave, Mom. Maybe I could take the babies to Philadelphia next summer. I'd like you to go with me.”

  “I'd like that, Cate.”

  Thirty-two

  The sun blazed over Manhattan, creating an effect meteorologists called Indian Summer. Despite the beauty of the day, Colin Thomas was troubled. His flight landed just before dawn, and he'd gone to his condo, tried to sleep, then abandoned the idea after staring at the ceiling for more than an hour. He thought a swift jog would tire him to the point where he could nap. He looked forward to seeing Rosario and Mia that evening, but the news they'd share with the child weighed heavy on his heart. How did one tell a child her mother was dying? It was the question he asked himself again and again as he jogged through Central Park. Other joggers passed him, and some raised their hands in greeting, but Colin didn't see them. He was deep in thought as he ran at a steady pace. He had distanced himself considerably from the world around him, which was likely why he didn't see the blond woman approaching, and the leash connecting her to the small puppy who waddled by her side. The leash caught him at his right ankle, and only then did he reconnect with his surroundings. They passed by him in an abstract fashion, as he tumbled to the ground.

  “Shit!” he shouted, as he left knee connected with the root of an aging oak. “Dammit,” he added for good measure, as the blond walked toward him.

  “I'm sorry, I thought you saw us,” she said, offering her hand.

  Colin took it, and struggled to his feet, then dropped to the ground again when he realized his left leg wouldn't hold his weight.

  The woman began to panic, and immediately Colin eased her concern. “I'm a doctor,” he said. “I'll be all right.”

  “I'm a veterinarian,” the woman said, “but I know blood when I see it.”

  Colin glanced at his knee. It was bleeding, although not profusely. “Crap, that looks like hell,” he said, staring at the wound.

  “It does. I'm really sorry. I thought you saw me. You seemed to look right at us.”

  “I was lost in my own thoughts.”

  “Well, now it looks like you're going to be lost in the chaos of the local Emergency Room.”

  “Yeah, looks that way, doesn't it?”

  “Colin?” the woman said, and Colin looked up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun to try to see her clearly.

  “Emma?” he asked, recognizing the woman from his past, and grainy photos from a high school yearbook.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Other than a bit clumsy, I'm good,” he said, glad to be thinking of something other than the injury that was beginning to throb. “How've you been?” he asked, and she smiled.

  “Good. Dad got transferred out here about ten years ago for work. I came out about a year later. I work for the ASPCA now as a vet. Faith is one of our rescue dogs,” she said, motioning to the puppy.

  “She's cute,” Colin said. “I didn't hurt you guys, did I?” he asked.

  “We're all right. I'm trying to get her acclimated to people. When I got her she'd been beaten damn near to death.”

  “Who would beat a puppy?” Colin asked.

  “I have no idea. It makes me sick.”

  “Dogs deserve better than that,” Colin said, momentarily thinking of Tiger and how he'd hated him for so many years.

  “Speaking of dogs, do you remember Roofie?” Emma asked, interrupting Colin's thoughts. He did remember, and the recollection made him laugh.

  “I do. He was the ugliest little thing, but your dad sure loved him.”

  “He's got another one now. Looks almost like Roofie.”

  “There are two dogs that ugly?” he asked, and Emma smiled.

  “You have pets, Colin?” she asked, as Colin returned his attention to his knee.

  “No. Never really had the ti
me,” he admitted, sounding sad.

  “That's too bad,” Emma said. “You have a family?”

  “I'm adopting a little girl,” he said, surprised the words were becoming easier to say.

  “I'm impressed.”

  “She's six.”

  “I'm even more impressed,” Emma said.

  “It's a long story actually,” he said, not feeling up to telling it. Emma didn't press for information, and he was relieved. “How about you, Emma? You married?”

  “Yes. For about ten years now. He's a great guy.”

  “Kids?”

  “No. My pets are my kids.”

  “Is Faith yours?” Colin asked, before he could stop himself.

  “No. She's available for adoption. She likes you,” Emma said. Colin had relaxed against the base of the tree. The dog sat by his side and he pet her, feeling an instant connection with the small puppy.

  “So what's the verdict on the knee, Doc?” Emma asked, and Colin groaned.

  “I think I'm gonna have it looked at.”

  “I can take you, if you'd like,” Emma offered, and Colin shook his head.

  “If I can get to my car, I can drive myself,” he said. He struggled to stand, and was relieved to find the leg held his weight. The pain was minimal, a dull throbbing, although the wound was still bleeding.

  “Here's my card,” Emma said. “It was great to see you, Colin. Shoot me an email. It would be good to catch up.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  “Good luck with the knee. Watch where you're going from now on,” Emma advised.

  “Thanks. That's good advice,” Colin said. Where was he going? What was happening to his life? A week ago it had been so orderly. Now he was adopting a child, and maybe a puppy, and he'd have to find room for both of them, and Rosario, and Caren, in his tiny apartment, and his otherwise small life.

  He watched as Emma walked away, with Faith waddling at her side. Seeing her reminded him of his younger years. She'd hardly changed. Colin looked at her again. Her tall, thin frame and the cascade of blond hair that drifted over her shoulders reminded him of someone else. Caitlin. His life was getting full, and filling with chaos, but still there was something missing. Namely, someone missing. Someone named Cate.

  ***

  Caitlin felt like she'd been in a train wreck. In her younger years it had been fashionable to be sleep deprived. In college, she'd stayed up many nights cramming for exams, acing them on only a few hours sleep. She no longer had any idea how she'd done that. She'd done it again a few years later, during her rocky, three-year marriage to Lance Goodrich, a drummer in an up-and-coming eighties band. The marriage had ended, along with the decade, the band, big hair, and sleepless nights. Caitlin had been twenty-five then. The bad decisions were easier to recover from then, as were the sleepless nights. Now she found both exhausting.

  Liz had called, and Caitlin waited for her on the porch, holding a cup of coffee between her hands. The day was beautiful, the sky a radiant blue, the breeze light, but it did little to quay her restlessness. She had to tell Colin about the babies. He had to know. She saw the pain in Ella's eyes, the pain of being separated from her child, if only by a lie. Not telling Colin was the same as lying. Caitlin had to find a way to tell him. She imagined the words, and her stomach tightened in response.

  “Hey, Colin. I had twins last weekend and they're yours,” Caitlin whispered. “Oh, and Ella is my biological mother.” It sounds insane. He's going to think I'm nuts. Am I?

  It was impossible to process it all.

  Ella is my mother. Ella is my mother. Ella is my mother.

  The thought ran through Caitlin's mind like a chant, but no matter how much she heard the words inside her head, she couldn't quite absorb it. It was simply too impossible to believe.

  I had a sister. She died. I never knew about her. The only people I've ever trusted lied to me.

  Caitlin set her coffee on the porch railing, and laid her head against the worn post. The world looked so still, so serene, so unlike the inner turmoil she felt. Every part of her life had been a lie. She had trusted them, all of them, and they had deceived her.

  How could they do that?

  Suddenly, she knew. She had done the same thing. She remembered the day she found out she was pregnant. She had wanted to call Colin that day. She had paced around the apartment for an hour, her cell phone clutched in her hand. In the end, she didn't call. One day had turned into two, then three, then many. Days had turned into weeks, then months, and each day it became easier to hide the truth. She remembered the guilt she had felt, the guilt she still felt, and she wondered how they had all carried that guilt, how it must have destroyed them, and eaten away at their souls, and their spirits. Suddenly Caitlin felt sorry for them, for the years they had lost to deception.

  Her thoughts returned to Colin as she stood staring at the world around her. She had already called the hospital that morning, but administration had told her that Doctor Thomas was out of town, and wasn't expected back for several days. Relief had flooded over her like a summer rain, but now it filled her with anxiety. I have to tell him. I don't want to live with the guilt.

  Caitlin watched as Liz's SUV pulled into the driveway, then turned at the sound of footsteps behind her.

  “I'm sorry, Cate. For everything,” Rita said softly.

  “Me too, Mom.”

  Rita reached out to hug her daughter, and Caitlin accepted the embrace. “I love you,” Rita whispered, and Caitlin nodded against her shoulder. Before she could pull away, Caitlin whispered three more words.

  “I forgive you.”

  The words had been easy, and when Rita pulled back, Caitlin saw what those three words had meant to her mother.

  “Thank you,” Rita whispered, as her eyes filled.

  “Morning,” Liz said, sticking her head out the driver's side window. “You ready, Cate?”

  “Ready.”

  “Caitlin, can you come to the shop just for a moment? I made an arrangement for Ella,” Rita said.

  “Sure.”

  Five minutes later, Caitlin and Liz were on their way back to Manhattan. The arrangement Rita had made was tucked behind the back seat, secure in a small box. It was beautiful, and Caitlin had fought back tears as her mother handed it to her. There was pain in Rita's eyes, and Caitlin knew how frightened she was. About everything. Caitlin closed her eyes, and a moment later she felt a hand touch her arm.

  “Cate.”

  “Hmm?” Caitlin said, without opening her eyes.

  “We're here,” Liz Parker said softly. Caitlin opened her eyes and saw the hospital in front of them.

  “Wow. I'm sorry, Liz. I wasn't much company.”

  “It's all right. Why don't you get out here,” Liz said, pulling up in front of the hospital. “I'll grab us some coffee and meet you in the ICU waiting room.”

  “Sounds good,” Caitlin said, stepping out of the SUV. She carefully took the flowers from the backseat, and closed the door.

  Caitlin paused and drank in the afternoon sun, willing it to restore her. She took the card from the flower arrangement, and peeked at the writing. The message was simple.

  To my best friend. Get well soon. Love, Rita.

  Caitlin felt tears gather behind her sunglasses. The words were so simple, the feelings so great, and the entire situation so unreal.

  Caitlin entered through the lobby doors, feeling like the hospital was her second home. Although the twins had been born less than a week before, she felt as though she'd spent a lifetime inside the massive structure. Her body ached, and she was distracted as she made her way through the massive lobby. She juggled her purse and the flowers, and nearly walked into a tall man who balanced on a set of crutches, his left knee wrapped in a huge bandage.

  “I'm sorry,” Caitlin muttered, not making eye contact with the man.

  “Cate?”

  Caitlin's heartbeat slowed, and nearly stopped. Time became suspended. Clocks stopped, chaos paused, and th
e world became soundless. That voice. She heard that voice in her sleep; she heard that voice everywhere. For a moment she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, and when she could, she squeaked out his name.

  “Colin?”

  “In the slightly battered flesh,” he said, brandishing a smile. In the slightly battered flesh? Idiot!

  “Are you all right?” Caitlin asked, glancing at his knee. I'm not all right. I have to tell him about the twins. Remember the guilt, Cate. Tell him!

  “I took a nasty spill in Central Park this morning. I got tangled up in a dog leash.” I got tangled up in a dog leash. Right. I've hurt my leg, and suffered a brain injury which has left me with the IQ of a Twinkie. Think, Colin! Say something that doesn't sound stupid!

  “You got a dog?” Caitlin said, interrupting Colin's jumbled thoughts.

  “No.”

  “Oh,” she squeaked.

  “Are you okay? What are you doing here?” Colin asked.

  “I'm fine. I'm visiting a friend.”

  “Oh.”

  “She's expecting me. I should be going.” Say something, Caitlin! Don't let him go, not again!

  “I'd like to talk to you sometime. Can I call you?” Colin asked, and to Caitlin he suddenly looked like a very young man.

  “No,” she said, and he looked crushed. “It's hard to explain, especially when I only have a few minutes. I'll call you.........., if that's all right.”

  “I'd like that,” he said. “Cate, you look good,” Colin offered, and Caitlin swept her right hand through her hair. Her left hand still held the flowers, which Colin hadn't seemed to notice, and her purse, which was cutting painfully into her fingers.

  “Thanks,” Caitlin replied, thanking God and all the saints for Rita's old trench coat that covered the extra forty pounds she still carried. “I'll call you.”

  “Please do,” Colin said. Without thinking, he leaned toward the woman he still loved with all his heart, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss left them both stunned. Before he could say another word, he watched as Caitlin walked away. Colin wondered if this is what it had felt like when she'd watched him leave. As he watched her back, he wondered if he'd ever see her again. He wondered if she'd call. He didn't think so. He waited, certain she would look back. She didn't. He hobbled out into the street, but not before he whispered three words.