The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

  ***

  Caitlin sat quietly in the back seat of Howie Parker's SUV. Liz sat beside her. No one cried, but the mood was somber. The morning sun had shined too briefly and the blue sky had disappeared beneath an ominous cloud cover that seemed to convey a prophecy of death. The clouds shed no rain, but they darkened the day and the mood of the passengers in the silver SUV.

  “I need to go to Ella's house later, Cate. We can drop you off, or you can come. It's up to you,” Liz Parker said softly.

  “I'll go with you. I've only been there once,” Caitlin said. Liz glanced at her and Caitlin could see her own grief mirrored in the older woman's face.

  “I'm sorry for you, Caitlin. This is an awful lot to take in all at once,” Liz said.

  “They should have told her years ago,” Howie Parker commented from behind the wheel. Caitlin was shocked, but not by his words. She'd only met him on a few occasions, but she wasn't sure she'd ever heard him speak more than a word here and there. She'd often wondered if he didn't care for conversation, or if by spending most of his life alone in his truck, he'd learned to live without it.

  “Howie, please. You're not helping,” Liz complained.

  “It's okay, Liz,” Caitlin said. “Honestly, I do wish I'd known Ella was my mother or that we'd had more time once I did. We can't change either situation.”

  “That's a healthy way of looking at it,” Liz said.

  “We're all doing our best,” Caitlin said.

  “How is Rita?” Liz asked.

  “About how she looked. She's a mess.”

  “We all are,” Howie said, adding another unprecedented contribution to the conversation. “I'm worried about my boy, and Erica.”

  “Did Nathan tell her?” Caitlin asked, watching as Howie glanced at her in the rear view mirror.

  “He was on his way to do that when we left,” Liz said, sounding worried.

  “How was he?” Caitlin asked with genuine concern.

  “He was somber, but he's very taken with your friend. It's a good distraction for him,” Liz replied.

  “Maria is a nice woman. She's pretty taken with Nathan, too,” Caitlin said, seeing Maria as more than a mere distraction, but not saying so.

  “I hate the city,” Howie said, as they neared it. “Such a cesspool.”

  “I love it,” Caitlin added, for whose benefit she wasn't sure.

  “Is that it?” Howie asked, as they neared the hospital.

  “Yeah,” Liz said softly.

  “Darn good thing they have parking. I'd never find a place to put this thing,” he whined, and Liz smiled weakly at Caitlin.

  “The lot fills quickly. You may have to park on the street,” Liz said.

  “Ah, found one,” he said, steering the SUV into the first spot he found. “I'll stay in the car,” he added.

  “No you will not,” Liz barked, and Caitlin inhaled sharply. “You are my husband, Howard Parker, and I love you and I know you love me, and this is very hard for me. I'd like you by my side.”

  “Okay, Lizzie,” Howard Parker said, his tone laced with guilt. “I'm sorry, girls. I don't do sad real well. I'm better off doing old and miserable.”

  “It's okay,” Caitlin said. “Where are we going, Liz?”

  “To the nurse's station outside of ICU.”

  “We don't have to go to her room, do we?” Caitlin asked. The idea made her sick. The task at hand was hard enough without seeing an empty bed in the room where Ella had died.

  “No. I couldn't,” Liz admitted.

  “I wouldn't want you to,” Howie said.

  The three got out of the vehicle, as the sky opened up, releasing a sudden torrential downpour. They moved toward the door as quickly as possible. Despite being the younger of the three, Caitlin lagged behind, feeling the exhaustion of the previous week.

  “How are you feeling, Cate?” Liz said. “In all the confusion, I'd nearly forgotten you just gave birth to not one baby, but two.”

  “Honestly, I haven't had much time to think about how I feel. I just keep going.”

  “The rain is fitting,” Howie offered. Caitlin wasn't sure if he was no longer participating in the conversation, or if he was trying to change the subject. It didn't matter. They all stared at the pouring rain as they stood momentarily drip-drying in the hospital lobby.

  The nurse Liz had spoken to the night before was at the ICU desk as promised. She led them to a family room nearby and asked them to wait. She returned less than two minutes later with a suitcase Liz recognized, and a small box.

  “She'd written some letters,” the nurse said, as she handed the box to Liz. Howie reached out to relieve the nurse of the old flowered suitcase.

  “I'm sorry for your loss,” the nurse said. She reached for Liz's hand and squeezed it warmly, before disappearing into the hallway.

  “Letters?” Caitlin asked, as she watched Liz open the small box.

  “There's one for you, Cate,” Liz said.

  Caitlin took the small white envelope. She looked down at her name, recognizing the beautiful handwriting. It matched the card in the flower arrangement Ella had made her.

  “It was the last one,” Caitlin said, not realizing she'd spoken her thoughts out loud.

  “There are more,” Liz said.

  “What?” Caitlin asked.

  “You said it was the last one,” Liz said. She had taken a seat in an ugly blue chair. The letters lay in a pile in her lap.

  “I was thinking about the flower arrangement she made for me. I recognized her handwriting from the card. It occurred to me it was probably the last arrangement she ever made.”

  “Sad,” Howie Parker said, returning comfortably to his monosyllabic conversational style.

  “I'm not going to read this now,” Caitlin said, and Liz looked at her.

  “Me either. I'd like to get out of here. I thought I'd feel close to Ella here, but I don't,” Liz said.

  “She's not here anymore,” Caitlin replied softly.

  The trio left the hospital, and Caitlin was amazed to find the painful task had only taken twenty minutes. It had felt like much longer. She sat once more in the back of the SUV, with her body turned. She watched as the city faded away behind her, and she laid her head on her arm. Suddenly someone was shaking her.

  “Cate?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We're at Ella's,” Liz said softly and Caitlin opened her eyes.

  “We're where?” Caitlin asked, as she fought the urge to drift back to sleep.

  “We're at Ella's.”

  “Oh.” Caitlin opened her eyes. She had slept the entire way, and although she was groggy, she felt physically restored.

  “We only have an hour before we have to go to the funeral parlor,” Liz said sadly.

  “Awful,” Howie said, adding his one word to the conversation.

  “We picked up coffee,” Liz said. “I didn't know what you like, Cate, but there's an extra, and there are creamers and sugar in the bag.”

  “Thanks, Liz.”

  Caitlin stepped out of the SUV in front of the house where Ella Simons had lived. If ever a person and home were perfectly matched, it was Ella and the Victorian house that stood in front of them.

  “It's different than I remember,” Caitlin said, taking in the splendor of the old Victorian home.

  “Ella restored it, about ten years ago. She was so proud of it,” Liz said, sounding equally as proud.

  “Beautiful,” Howie Parker said, and Caitlin smiled at him.

  “The porch is exquisite,” Caitlin said and Liz nodded.

  “Why don't you sit up there a minute and drink your coffee. We'll go inside,” Liz said, sounding as though she'd rather not.

  “I will. Thanks, Liz.”

  Caitlin watched Liz and Howie climb the front steps, and let themselves into the house. She suddenly wondered if houses could feel, and if so, if this grand home would miss the woman who had lovingly restored it. Caitlin imagined it would.

  She started up
the walk, admiring the flowers planted on each side. It certainly looked like a place Ella would live, and although it was grand in appearance, there was a softness about it, so much so that Caitlin fought back tears as she climbed its steps.

  She sat in a huge wicker chair on the front porch and sipped at her coffee. Suddenly she remembered the letter, and she couldn't imagine a more appropriate place to read it. She reached into the bag at her feet and removed the small envelope. It wasn't sealed, and she pulled the letter free. The handwriting on the letter was different than the envelope. Ella hadn't written it. She'd dictated it to someone else. Caitlin felt an immense sadness, greater than her grief. How sad it was that Ella had something so important to say, but had lacked the strength to write it down. Caitlin looked down at the letter and began to read.

  Dear Caitlin;

  If you're reading this, I know I am gone, passed on to another place, perhaps to be with the man I have always loved. There are so many things I want to say, to tell you, but I fear there aren't enough pages in the world for me to write them all. And so, I'll tell you what is most important. First of all, please know that I have always loved you, and if love transcends beyond this life, and I believe it does, I will love you forever. While I wish life had offered me other choices, and easier decisions, I have no regrets. I have always known about your life, as Rita is an open book, and I imagine you know she has told me everything about you. Much of it I was blessed to witness. You delighted all of us when you were a child. Your beauty was limitless and your tolerance, especially of your mother's antics, admirable. You healed their hearts, Caitlin, and you saved my life. I cherished the times I spent with you, and God bless your parents for allowing me to share in so many precious memories. I couldn't have asked for two finer people to raise what I have always considered my most precious gift.

  Although the time we shared after you knew the truth was far too short, I am glad for those moments, and they will remain some of the finest of my life. Your children are precious, my dear sweet girl. Love them, teach them, and when the time is right, set them free to live wondrous lives of their own. Remember what I told you, Cate. Don't let fear govern your life. Do something that frightens you. The reward may be the miracle you seek. I wish I'd been braver, but I say this gently, as remember, I have no regrets.

  I know there is a great story inside of you, Caitlin, and one day when your heart is healed, you will be brave enough to write it. If you feel our story is worthy of print, I have something that may help you in that endeavor. My grandmother's hope chest sits at the foot of my bed. Inside are nearly fifty journals where I have written my deepest thoughts for most of my life. I want you to have them. Perhaps my words will bring you comfort, and help you to better understand my choices. Love your children, and love Rita, and if you know it is right in your heart, love that young man, as I suspect you do. Take care of Rita for me. She is a wonderful human being, with an enormous heart, questionable organizational skills, and very poor taste in fashion. It is all right if you laugh here. Laughter through tears is one of life's greatest offerings. Please don't be angry with Rita. I wouldn't want that, as anger only leads to regret. It is far better to accept. Please accept what has happened, and respect the choices we made, even if you disagree with them. Acceptance brings peace, and peace opens the door to joy, and joy is what I want for you.

  Finally, and this is the most important thing of all, have a glorious life. Embrace today, as life is fleeting, and tomorrow is promised to no one. Find something that makes you blissfully happy, and dedicate your heart and soul to it, but don't let work get in the way of what truly matters. It is family, Cate. It is family and friendship. The relationships we build in our lives are the true treasures, greater than anything tangible. There is nothing in this world greater than love, and no three words with more powerful meaning have ever been spoken. Never miss an opportunity to tell someone you love them. That is how you live without regret. Live with honor, and be a good girl. I know one day we'll meet again.

  Now, stop crying, blow your nose, kiss those babies, and live, love, and be happy. Do that for me. And please remind Rita to take care of my roses.

  With all my love;

  Ella

  Caitlin pulled the pages to her chest, and hugged them to her. She cried, softly at first, then in great sobs that shook her entire body. She cried, and rocked in the weathered wicker chair, which was how Howard Parker found her ten minutes later.

  “Caitlin,” he whispered. One word. She turned her tear-streaked face to him, and saw that he too was crying. She flung herself into his embrace, this man she barely knew. “It's okay, dear girl. It will be okay.” He whispered words of comfort, one word, and then another. She understood why Nathan loved his father so much. Howard Parker said little, but Caitlin knew he felt things, even if he never said them. She would never remember what he whispered into her hair, as she cried into his shoulder, but if one word could have described Howard Parker at that moment, it would have been comforting, for it was comfort she felt in his strong arms as she stood on the white porch with the pink railing and cried for the mother she had lost.

  ***

  Rita Hollings sat on her own porch drinking old coffee and smoking a cigarette. She had spent an hour helping Nathan comfort his Erica, and then watched as they, along with Maria, embarked on a walk into the village, with the twins nestled safely in their stroller. It had rained, but finally the clouds had taken their leave, leaving a balmy afternoon in their wake. It was a good day to walk, but Rita needed to be alone with her thoughts.

  The phone rang on the table beside her, and at first she ignored it. She heard a male voice begin speaking to her answering machine, and only then did she answer the phone.

  “Hello,” she said, stubbing her cigarette into the overflowing ashtray at her feet.

  “May I please speak to Caitlin?”

  “May I ask who's calling?” Rita asked.

  “Rita?”

  “Yes.”

  “It's Colin Thomas.”

  “Yes, Colin. What can I do for you?”

  “I'm trying to find Caitlin. Okay, let me try to say that in a way that makes me sound less like a stalker.” Colin chuckled at himself, and Rita smiled. He was nervous. Served him right.

  “Rita, is she there? I don't know if she told you but I saw her yesterday. I've been really worried about her since then. There's no answer at her apartment, and no machine, and her cell goes right to voice mail. Can you at least tell me if she's all right?”

  “She's going through a hard time, Colin,” Rita said honestly.

  “I'm sure I've contributed to that.”

  More than you know. “That's for the two of you to discuss.”

  “Is she in the city, Rita?”

  “She's staying here with me.”

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, and to Rita he sounded not only concerned, but genuinely frightened.

  “Not really.”

  “Did something happen?” he asked, and Rita sighed.

  You can't imagine. Rita wanted to tell him the truth, but it wasn't her place. In the end, she told him only part of it. “Do you remember Ella? She worked in the flower shop with me. You met her a couple of times.”

  “The rose lady?”

  The rose lady. That was my Ella. “Yes.”

  “Yes, I remember her. She's a nice woman.”

  “Colin, she died last night. It's a very hard time for us right now.”

  “I'm so sorry, Rita. I remember Caitlin telling me she was your best friend.”

  “She was, and she and Caitlin were very close.”

  “I didn't know that.”

  Neither did she. “She's heartbroken. We all are.”

  “I'm sorry, Rita. I'm sorry for all of you. I don't want to impose, but could you give Caitlin a message?”

  “Yes, I'd be happy to do that. I expect her back later.”

  “I'm supposed to see her tomorrow. I can't do that. Okay, that sounds awful.
May I explain?”

  “That might be best,” Rita said.

  “I'm taking care of a dying friend, Rita. I'm not sure I can get away tomorrow. Caitlin met her. I think she'll understand.”

  “I'll let her know.”

  “Thank you. Would you ask her to call me?”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you. Oh, and, Rita, one more thing......,” Colin said, stammering somewhat.

  “What's that?”

  “What is your friend's last name? I'd like to send my condolences.”

  “That's very thoughtful. Her name is Ella Simons. She will be greatly missed.”

  “I'm sure. I want to say again how sorry I am about your friend's passing. If Caitlin loved her, she must have been a wonderful person.”

  “She was. May I ask you something, Colin?” Rita said, sipping the cold coffee and wishing it was something stronger.

  “Of course.”

  “If Caitlin loved you, what does that make you?”

  “I'd prefer not to say that over the phone, or to you, Rita.”

  “I understand. Thank you for calling, Colin, and for your condolences. I'll let Caitlin know you've called.”

  “Please ask her to call me. I really miss her.”

  “I will. She really misses you, too.”

  “Thank you for saying that. Bye, Rita.”

  “Goodbye, Colin.”

  Rita set the phone down, walked into the kitchen and dumped the coffee down the drain. She emptied the last of the previous night's wine into her coffee cup and brought it to her lips. She'd always liked Colin, and the phone call hadn't changed that. He might send his condolences, but Rita had a feeling it was more likely he'd deliver them in person.

  Forty-six