By four o'clock Sunday afternoon, the funeral arrangements for Ella Simons had been made. Caitlin's eyes were red-rimmed, and she was physically and emotionally exhausted. Liz Parker looked the same. Howie had said little, adding his opinion from time to time with a nod. Once, he'd stopped to wipe his eyes on his handkerchief, before taking his wife's arm, and leading her from the funeral home.
It was decided that calling hours would be held for three hours on Tuesday evening beginning at six o'clock, and on Wednesday at noon, Ella Simons would be laid to rest beside Charles Tayler, the man she had always loved.
They had selected a cherry coffin with a pink satin lining. Caitlin couldn't imagine Ella inside, so she focused instead on the smooth wooden finish, and imagined it laden with roses, as she knew it would be.
Fifteen minutes later Caitlin was sitting on the front porch of her mother's home, sipping a much needed glass of wine. The day was still warm, and the twins slept side by side in their stroller. Caitlin stared into their faces and smiled weakly.
“You okay, Cate?” Maria asked, and Caitlin nodded.
“Surprisingly so.”
“You seem better,” Maria said gently.
“I feel peaceful. Don't get me wrong, I am sad as hell, but I feel peaceful.”
“It's a good feeling.”
“Yeah. I feel like things might be okay. When I see Colin tomorrow, I'm going to tell him everything. I'm going to tell him I love him, that I am in love with him, and I want to be with him.”
“Um, you should check with your mom,” Maria said.
“Why?”
“Because Colin called.”
“Holy shit, Maria! He called here?”
“That's what Rita said.”
“Mom?” Caitlin called through the open kitchen window.
“You're home, Cate?”
“I'm talking to you, aren't I?” Caitlin asked.
“Yeah,” Rita said, sounding far away.
“Can you come out here for a second?”
Rita appeared in the doorway a moment later. “How you doing, honey?” she asked.
“I'll be better once you tell me about this phone call from Colin.”
“He called here, Caitlin,” Rita said.
“He did?” Caitlin asked incredulously.
“Yes. He was looking for you. Evidently he's pretty steadfast with his efforts.”
“What did you tell him, Rita?” Caitlin asked.
“We're back to Rita?” Rita questioned, feeling a bit struck.
“Sorry, I am a little freaked, Mom. What did you guys talk about?”
“Sports,” Rita said, and Maria laughed. Caitlin threw her a warning look and Maria abruptly became quiet.
“That's not funny,” Caitlin said.
“It was a little funny,” Rita said.
“Don't torture me,” Caitlin said. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him the truth, Cate.” Caitlin went immediately pale.
“You are killing me, Mom.”
“I don't mean to, Cate. Okay, I told him part of the truth,” Rita said, and Caitlin appeared to relax, if only slightly.
“Which part?”
“I told him Ella passed away. He remembered her. He was actually calling to tell you his friend was dying and he wouldn't be able to meet you tomorrow.”
“I met her. She's very sick,” Caitlin said, feeling sorry for Colin, Rosario, and herself. She'd really looked forward to seeing Colin. Caitlin wondered if she should tell her mother and Maria about the little girl. She decided it could wait.
“Cate?” Rita said. “Are you all right?”
Caitlin hadn't realized how long she'd been lost in her thoughts. She looked at Rita and nodded her head. “Yeah. Did he say anything else?”
“He was kind, Caitlin. Very thoughtful. He said he'd like you to call him,” Rita said. She left out the rest, convincing herself it was superfluous. After all, Colin might not come to the funeral. He might just send the condolences he'd offered.
“You're sure you didn't tell him about the twins?” Caitlin said.
“I think I'd remember that, Caitlin, and no, of course I didn't tell him. It's not up to me.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Caitlin, there was one more thing.”
“What was that?”
“He said he misses you.”
“He said that?” Caitlin asked in a small voice.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Mom. I miss him, too.”
“Remember what you told me, Cate? Remember what you said this morning in the shop?” Rita asked. Caitlin looked at her, and although she was crying softly, she smiled.
“I remember.”
“So do I. We're going to find a way to be happy, right?” Rita asked, taking her daughter's hand.
“Yes. Yes, we are.”
***
Colin Thomas opened the front door of his new home. The house was surprisingly quiet.
“Hello,” he called, and the home seemed to echo, its empty spaces swallowing his greeting and shouting it back at him. “Let's go out back, buddy,” he said to the dog, who looked at him inquisitively. “And let's try to be here a while before you start christening the place.”
Colin walked slowly through the house to the French doors off the dining area. He found Caren, Rosario, and Mia out back enjoying the warm autumn day. Mia looked delighted when she saw Faith.
“Puppy,” she said happily and Faith ran to her side.
Rosario sat in a chair on the patio and she turned carefully, making eye contact with Colin. He forced himself not to react. He was amazed to see how much her condition had deteriorated in only a day. She had seemed weak at the festival, but in less than twenty-four hours she had become positively frail. Caren had been right to be concerned. Conjuring up acting skills he didn't know he had, Colin smiled reassuringly at Rosario, who smiled weakly back at him. She knows. She knows it's here.
The thought played over and over in his mind, as he walked to the table and sat between the two women. He took Rosario's hand, which was cool and clammy.
“How are you?” he asked softly, as Mia played in the yard.
“Lousy,” she said honestly.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“I'm in a lot of pain.”
“I called hospice, Colin,” Caren said. “They'll be here in an hour.”
“Good. We'll get you through this, Rosario,” he said, with a confidence he didn't feel.
Rosario leaned in closely and for a moment, he wondered if she might kiss him. She didn't. Instead, she whispered two words that made his blood run cold. “I'm ready.”
“I understand,” he said gently, trying to collect himself. “I need to make a call. I'll be right back.” Colin kissed Rosario's forehead, and called to Mia.
“Sweetheart, can you watch Faith for a minute? I need to go in the house. I'll be right back,” he called.
Mia nodded, and smiled. “Okay, Papa,” she said, and Colin watched her.
He was amazed at his own intuition, and didn't know if it came from wisdom, or some inner quality that prepared him to be a father one day. He saw through Mia's smile, saw the little girl behind the mask. She was frightened. She played with the dog and her laughter sounded authentic, but deep down, he knew she was terrified. Dear God give us strength, he asked as he walked into the house.
He sat at the dining room table, that by some amazing act of God, had found its way to the dining room. Despite the boxes, the house looked somewhat orderly, and he wondered if it was Caren who had orchestrated that, or if he had managed to find the best moving company in the free world. It didn't matter and the thought was fleeting.
He opened his cell phone and dialed the number for his friend, Jim Hartwell, who had drawn up all the necessary paperwork for the adoption, which they were scheduled to sign on Tuesday. Jim answered on the second ring.
“Jim, Colin Thomas. I'm sorry to bother you on Sunday,” Colin said, feeling agonize
d.
“Not a problem, Colin. What can I do for you?”
“I don't think we're going to be able to make it Tuesday.”
“Okay. Is another day better?” Jim asked, and Colin swallowed hard.
“She's dying, Jim. I don't know if she can make it until Tuesday.”
“I'm very sorry, Colin. What can I do to help?” Jim asked, sounding sympathetic.
“Can you come to the house?” Colin asked, hating to inconvenience his friend, but knowing the importance of it.
“I can. How's tonight?” Jim asked.
“Tonight is good,” Colin said. “Jim, the only thing keeping this woman going right now is making sure everything is taken care of for her child. She needs to be set free,” Colin said, as his eyes filled with tears.
“I'll be there in about an hour,” Jim said, and Colin sighed.
“Thank you.” Colin gave him the address and Jim asked for an extra fifteen minutes to swing by his office and get the paperwork.
Colin hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. He sat for several minutes until he heard someone beside him. He turned and looked. It was Mia.
“Don't cry, Papa,” she whispered, and the sincerity in her voice only made him cry harder. “Mama doesn't want us to be sad.”
“I know,” he said, pulling Mia into his lap and holding her to his chest.
“I'm scared, Papa,” she whispered into his shoulder, and Colin sighed deeply.
“I know, sweetheart. I'm scared, too,” he whispered.
“I don't want you to be mad.”
“Mad?”
Mia pulled away from him and looked into his face. “Faith pooped in the yard,” she whispered and Colin smiled.
“She's supposed to, Mia.”
“Yeah, but I'm not supposed to sit in it.”
What would have normally upset him, didn't seem to matter. The dog had pooped in the yard and his little girl had sat in it. He sniffed, then cleared his throat. “Mia?”
“Yes, Papa?”
“Where's the poop now?” he asked, knowing the answer to the question.
“It's everywhere,” she said, and he laughed.
Mia giggled, and the two sat for another minute, as Colin contemplated his next move.
“Hey, Mia,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Why don't we see if the washing machine works.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” she said, and he laughed again.
Forty-seven
Monday turned out to be another glorious autumn day, and the beautiful weather seemed to ease the sorrow of the friends and family of Ella Simons.
Caitlin sat on the porch with a cup of coffee. She held Hannah in her lap, and the baby stared at her.
“Hannah banana,” Caitlin said playfully.
“Hi, sweetie,” Rita said, appearing in the doorway with her grandson.
“Hey, Mom. Is it always this beautiful here?”
“Yes, but this fall has been particularly beautiful.”
“I could definitely write here.”
“Is that what you want to do?” Rita asked.
“Yes. I have stories running through my mind all the time, and suddenly everything I see makes me want to write. It's actually kind of weird.”
“How so?” Rita asked.
“My life has never been this complicated, but I have never felt so free.”
“It makes me so happy to hear you say that.”
“There's something I need to tell you. Liz called me this morning,” Caitlin said.
“How is she?”
“Better.”
“It just takes time.”
“I know. Mom?”
“Hmm?” Rita asked, as she looked up from blowing raspberries on Rogan's belly.
“Ella left me her house.”
“I know, Cate. I've known for a long time.”
“It's okay, Mom.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Ella also left journals. I'm going to start reading them.”
“I knew about the journals.”
“Is there anything you don't know?” Caitlin asked playfully, sufficiently lessening the tension she knew Rita felt.
“Tons of stuff.”
“I feel the same way.”
“I don't want you to leave, Caitlin.”
“I'm not leaving.”
“No?”
“No. I don't know what to do about Ella's house. Liz said we don't have to do anything right away. I'm happy here. I want to stay here, with you.”
“Oh, Caitlin,” Rita said, her voice cracking with emotion. “This is what I've wanted all along.”
“For me to live with you?”
“No, for us to be like this. Just like this. It seems so simple for us to be sitting here, drinking coffee that tasted a little funky this morning. Did you notice that?”
“I noticed,” Caitlin said with a slight grimace. “Don't change the subject.”
“I wasn't. I was apologizing for the coffee in a roundabout way.”
“The coffee's fine, Mom.”
“It's lousy, but that's okay. I'd be happy drinking lousy coffee with you on this old, ratty porch any day.”
“You know....., so would I.”
“We're okay now, aren't we?” Rita asked gently.
“I think we are.”
“Ella would be pleased.”
“I know.”
***
Colin Thomas awoke with a start. Rosario slept in the bed hospice had delivered the previous night. They'd been setting it up as Jim Hartwell arrived. As difficult as it had been, they were prepared for the end.
Colin rose from the mattress on the floor of the den, and padded quietly to Rosario's bedside. She was breathing, but her breathing was very shallow, and he knew the end was close. Mia laid tucked into the crook of her mother's arm, with the old bear pulled to her chest.
“Morning, Papa,” she whispered, and he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
“Where's Faith?”
“Outside with Caren.”
“Can I go?”
“Okay.”
“How's Mama?”
“She's sleeping, Mia.”
“Just sleep?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“Did she die?” Mia asked, looking into her mother's face. “Mama?” she whispered, and Colin felt his eyes fill with tears.
“No, Mia.”
“Do you think she'll die today, Papa?” she asked and he felt faint.
“I don't know, Mia.”
“Soon?” the child asked, and he inhaled sharply.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“I don't want Mama to hurt anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
“Does it hurt to die?”
“Dear God,” he whispered, not realizing he'd spoken out loud.
“Are you praying, Papa?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Me, too. God, please take care of Mama. When you see her, please tell her I love her. Marvin loves her, too,” Mia whispered. Colin watched as the child pressed the bear to her mother's cheek. “That was Marvin,” she whispered to Rosario, who didn't respond. Mia pressed her tiny lips to her mother's face. “That one was me,” she said softly. “I love you, Mama. I'll be right back.”
Colin stood biting his tongue, which failed him miserably. The tears he'd been fighting slid down his cheeks and Mia stood on the bed and wiped them away.
“You're crying again, Papa.”
“I know. I cry a lot all of the sudden.”
“Me, too,” Mia whispered, and Colin picked her up. “Papa?” she asked, as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom.
“Yes, Mia.”
“Will I die?”
“Everyone dies, Mia. You won't die for a very long time, so I don't want you to worry about that.”
“Okay. Does it hurt?” she asked again, and fresh tears filled his eyes.
>
“I don't think so.”
“Will I go to heaven?”
“Yes, Mia.”
“Will you?”
“I'd like to,” he said.
“Will Marvin?”
“Only if he's a very good bear, Mia.”
“He is. He's watching over Mama while we're gone.”
Forty-eight
Caitlin's cell phone rang as she was reading the instructions on the back of the Maxwell House can. For all of Rita's accomplishments, the woman couldn't make a good pot of coffee, and Caitlin had washed the remainder of the first pot down the sink, and was in the middle of making a second.
“Hello,” Caitlin said into the phone.
“Cate?”
“Mom?”
“Can you come to the shop?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Why did you call me?”
“I've been sitting on this stool so long my legs fell asleep. I want you to see something.”
“Okay.”
“Where are the twins?” Rita asked.
“They're right here, sleeping in the stroller.”
“Okay, bring the monitor.”
“I will.”
Caitlin finished the coffee with a peaceful smile on her face. She knew there would be difficult times for her and her mother ahead, but she knew she would never be bored; Rita was full of surprises. Caitlin grabbed the monitor, a jacket from a rusty hook by the back door, and headed toward the shop. Rita was teaching herself to walk again when her daughter appeared in the doorway.
“You look like a wooden soldier, Mom.”
“I know. I can't feel anything below my hips,” Rita said, stepping away from an easel that had been hidden behind her.
Caitlin gasped, and Rita smiled. “Oh my God. Did you do that?”
“Yes,” Rita said proudly.
“How long have you been able to do that?”
“Always.”
“Did Daddy know?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“It was my secret. Okay, this and a thousand others,” Rita said, looking momentarily guilty.
Caitlin stared in amazement at the painting. It reminded her of the young woman in the old photograph, the woman with the long blond hair, the woman who looked like her. It was Ella. An old photo lay on the counter, and Caitlin picked it up and held it under the light.
The House of Roses Page 29