"Ellen, I'm sorry but I don't think I'm in any shape to take you home on that. I got a DWI last year so I don't want to risk it."
"That's okay, I'll just take a cab."
"Where do you think you are, Manhattan? Let's walk back to my place and I'll call you a cab from there. I only live a few blocks away."
We walked in companionable silence along Northport's main thoroughfare, past the overpriced boutiques, ice cream parlors and nautically inspired gift shops. Two blocks from the harbor, we turned right and walked another three blocks until we reached a pale yellow clapboard Victorian. Billy took my hand and we walked up the steep narrow brick steps to the front door. Inside was one big construction site, with only the kitchen marginally habitable.
"I know, I know, but in my defense counselor, I'm so busy working on other people's houses I never have time to finish my own. I do have a refrigerator that works, though. What would you like to drink? Wine? Beer?"
"Coffee, if you have it."
"Sure. Wait on the deck, and I'll be right out." Billy opened French doors that led to a large wooden deck. Outside, the air was warm and I sank into a lounge chair. I was buzzed but unlike my night with Brendan, still in control.
"Here we go." Billy placed a large tray on the side table next to the lounge chair and then sat next to me.
As he handed me the coffee, I asked, "So how long have you lived here?"
"About three years. I moved here after my divorce, but I only started ripping it apart six months ago. It'll be nice when it's finished. If it ever gets finished, that is."
"It must be exciting to renovate your own house. I imagine it must be liberating, not to ask your wife what kind of tile she wants, if you should use granite or marble."
"Yeah, but it's kind of weird too. I guess that's why I lived with wood paneling for two years before I did something about it. I never thought at this stage of my life I'd be living alone. It's freeing, but sad at the same time. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah. I think I do."
We sipped our coffee, silent except for the cacophony of cicadas. My hand brushed against his as I placed my empty mug on the table. He looked at me, his eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. My breath quickened as he reached over and touched my shoulder. He pulled me closer and kissed me, tenderly at first and then more forcefully, urgently.
"I've been wanting to do that for weeks, Miss Murphy," he said softly.
"I know. Me too." I leaned forward to kiss him again. His hand softly brushed against my right breast.
A neighbor's back door slammed. "Maybe we should move this inside."
"I think you should call me a cab now. If you don't call it soon, I might not leave and I really think I should go."
"I wish you wouldn't," he murmured in my ear.
"I have to be at St. Francis early tomorrow. But that's not really the reason. I just, I just don't want to make a mistake here."
"Does this feel like a mistake?" Billy kissed me again.
For some reason, panic overwhelmed me. I pushed him away. "Please Billy, I think I should go."
He looked at me for a moment, his eyes surprised and not a little hurt. "Of course." He stood up. "Let me find the number." He walked into the house.
Not knowing whether to be disappointed or relieved at his acquiescence, I followed him into the house.
Chapter 11
Rose
The morning sun blinded me, even through the thin shades the nurses had not yet opened. It was too early for breakfast. And too early for my morphine shot as well. The jagged edge of pain the morphine kept partially at bay was sharper now. I grimaced, but did not call out. For the past few days I'd tried to pretend that the pain was not so bad so that they wouldn't place me on the continuous drip Sister Elizabeth told me would be the next step in my pain management. Medication brought relief, but at a terrible price. It made me disoriented, sleepy. I didn't have much time left, but what little I did have, I wanted to be awake for. Cogent. So that I could talk with my daughter.
Although our conversations these past few weeks had carefully skimmed the surface, I could sit in this room and listen to Ellen read the phone book. That would be enough for me. I doubted it would be enough for her.
I looked with distaste at the large vase full of carnations next to my bed. Their stench overpowered the room. I'll tell Ellen to throw them out. Carnations. In my mind's eye I saw my mother pin an obnoxious corsage onto my graduation dress.
"See, Rosie. I had them dyed to match your dress."
"Oh, I didn't know carnations came in blue." I kept the disappointment from my voice. Peter stood next to her and I didn't want to give him an excuse to make a scene.
"Red, blue, yellow," Kitty said brightly. "Every color."
I tried to ignore the other graduates who wandered the halls holding their bouquets of roses.
"Darling," my mother said to Peter. "Could you help me with this?" Out of a plastic bag my mother pulled out an even bigger corsage that consisted of at least a half dozen yellow roses. "Doesn't this match my dress perfectly?" Kitty asked me.
"Yes," I said without inflection. "It's perfect."
The squeak of the heavy door to my room brought me back. "Morning, Rosie."
"Good morning, Sister."
"How many times do I have to tell you, knock it off with this Sister business."
I laughed. "Okay. Good morning, Lizzie."
"Much better." Lizzie sat down next to my bed.
"What are you doing here so early?" I asked.
"Mae Broderick down the hall. She passed about an hour ago." Lizzie's face was pale, tired.
"How long was she here?" I asked.
"Three months."
"That was longer than they thought she'd last, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"I might make it to three months," I said hopefully.
"Maybe." She paused for a moment. "Rose, why are you so anxious for the extra time? Many of the patients here are scared of what comes next. They don't have faith, or they frantically grab for it in the end. But you, Rosie, your faith is strong. Stronger than my own. It always has been. So why do you want the extra time when you know it will only involve more pain?"
"I want more time with Ellen," I choked out, my throat suddenly dry. "I need to make things right with her."
"I know you feel guilty about Ellen, but honestly, you have to let that go. You did a good job with her. She's well educated....."
"She's well educated," I interrupted, "thanks to you. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't arranged that scholarship."
"Rosie, you don't need to thank me." Lizzie patted my hand. "I made few calls. What's the point of having an uncle who's a Jesuit if you can't pull a few strings? And besides, she did Boston College proud. Ellen got into law school all by herself, now she has that big government job. That was all her."
"Yes, but if you hadn't helped. Hadn't gotten her out of that house when you did..."
"Maybe she wouldn't be such a bossy miss if she had married the boy down the street. But, ah, who's to know. You make the best decision you can at the time and leave the rest up to God, right? And everything worked out. She's accomplished, successful, happy."
"She's not happy. I don't think she's ever been happy, not really."
"Ellen's an adult now with grown children of her own. Her happiness is her own responsibility, Rose, not yours."
"I suppose you're right." I couldn't say to my childless friend, you're not a mother, you could never understand.
Lizzie leaned towards me. "Is there something else, Rose? Some other reason you're uneasy?"
I spent two years wishing for a helpless old man's death, I wanted to say. I watched him choke to death and did nothing to stop it. No priest's absolution could adequately pardon me of that crime. How could I say that to my friend, my friend who'd put my faith and steadfastness on a pedestal all these years? Instead, I shook my head. "It's hard, Lizzie. Even with my faith. It's difficult to let go."
"Of course it is, Rose." She patted my bony hand. "Forgive me if I upset you."
Pain now split my head in two. "There's nothing to forgive," I whispered.
"You need your medicine. Let me get the nurse." Lizzie hurried out of the room. Relief washed through me. My medication would be here soon; no nurse could say no to the persistent Sister Elizabeth.
Lizzie had been a good friend to me over the years, but she never understood my relationship with my daughter. I made her promise not to tell Ellen about our role in the scholarship. "But, Rosie," Lizzie said at the time, "isn't this the solution to all your problems with Ellen? This will bring you closer."
"You can't tell her we were involved. There's no way she'll go to Boston College if she thinks I'm behind it."
"I don't understand."
"That's right, Lizzie, you don't. And consider yourself lucky you don't."
Lizzie abided by my edict and to this day Ellen still had no idea Lizzie and I were the catalyst behind her great academic career. And her escape from Rose Hill.
When the envelope from Boston College arrived, I placed it back in the mailbox for Ellen or my mother to find. Ellen, trailed by Johnny Griffin from down the street, found the letter. She carelessly threw it on the kitchen counter before she retreated to her room with Johnny where they did God knew what. Johnny was tall, dark and dumb, which was Ellen's taste at the time. He was a freshman at Hofstra University, only twenty minutes from Centerport, and he had been lobbying heavily for Ellen to stay home for college. Kitty was friends with his mother and they were both delighted that the kids were dating. Kitty did everything in her power to push the romance along. Ellen, married and local and still under her thumb, would've been a dream come true for my mother.
Well, not if I could help it. Ellen had been lackadaisical when it came to her college applications. She'd left it up to me to type most of them. It was easy enough to slip Boston College among her other applications.
Later, after dinner, my mother sifted through the mail.
"Ellie," she called, "you have mail."
I busied myself with folding laundry at the kitchen table when Ellen floated into the kitchen. She picked through the mail and spent an inordinate amount of time flipping through a catalog. She finally opened the Boston College letter.
"Mom, did I apply to Boston College?"
"Hmm, I think you might have. Although I don't know why. There's no way I'd let you go there."
"Why not?" she said. "Laurie Nolan's cousin went there and had a blast."
"Exactly," I sniped. "That's why you're not going. Plus, it's way too expensive."
Ellen threw the letter in front of me. "They've offered me a scholarship so it shouldn't be too expensive."
I looked at Kitty. "Mama," I said to her, "can you help me out here? I thought we decided that Ellen was going to Hofstra."
Ellen's fair cheeks flamed with temper. "You decided? You two decided where I'm going to college?"
Kitty for once looked confused. "But, Ellie, I thought you wanted to go to Hofstra and stay home with Johnny?"
Ellen flipped her long blond hair out of her eyes. "Laurie's cousin said the boys at BC are hot."
I stood up and threw the towel I had been folding on the table. "If you think I'm going to allow you to move hundreds of miles away to do God knows what with boys in your dorm room, you've got another thing coming, missy. Right, Mama?"
Kitty looked uncertainly at Ellen. She wasn't used to siding with me against Ellen. My mother liked to be the good guy when it came to my daughter. "Well, I don't know, Rosie. If it's a good school and free and all, maybe we should think about it."
"Over my dead body!" I stormed out of the kitchen and prayed I hadn't overplayed my hand. It turned out I hadn't. By the next week Ellen had sent back her acceptance letter and a four short months later she was packed off to college, away from Johnny Griffin and out of that house.
The sharp pain emanating from my left eye socket brought me back to my room. I couldn't prevent the tears that soon streamed down my poor withered face. I cried for my pain. I cried for the few days left to me. I cried for my guilt. I cried for the daughter who would never know how much I loved her.
"Mom, you okay? Should I get the nurse?" For once, Ellen had turned up on time.
I controlled my sobs and attempted a smile. "Sister Elizabeth has gone to get her. They should be back soon."
"What can I do? Mom, just tell me what you want me to do."
"Sing to me, Ellen. Sing to me until they get here."
Ellen picked up the battered missalette Lizzie had swiped from the chapel and flipped through it to find something she recognized. Soon, her sweet soprano sang a song I recognized from her Holy Communion. I remembered when she sang it for me and Mama in the kitchen, every night for weeks.
"Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin with me..."
Ellen continued to sing her childish song even after the nurse entered and delivered a shot of relief. Even after my eyes closed.
Later I woke, alone. I fumbled for my glasses. Outside my window, Ellen and Sister Elizabeth sat together in the courtyard, deep in conversation. Maybe Lizzie could give Ellen some comfort. God knows, I couldn't.
Chapter 12
Ellen
Sister Elizabeth held out a pack of cigarettes. "Do you want one?"
"You smoke?"
She laughed. "Yeah, I'm the smoking nun. Let me know if you see Nurse Collins, she's a devil for enforcing the rules."
It was nice to know I wasn't the only black sheep at St. Francis. "I will. Did you and my mother sneak ciggies in the convent?"
"Even I'm not that brave. Your mother was a wizard at smuggling in chocolates and chewing gum. I still don't know how she did it. Mother Superior was very strict, especially with the first year postulants. No, I picked up this particular bad habit when I worked as a social worker in San Francisco. But hey, it was the 60s, I could've done a lot worse."
"Bad habits in a convent?"
"Believe me, there were plenty of bad habits to go around. Put twenty women together and you're sure to see plenty. Gossip, petty fights, spitefulness. My smoking was a minor offense. At least now I'm not wearing a habit, so I just look like another nicotine addict. You should've seen the looks I got when I was wearing the penguin suit. Sure I can't tempt you?"
"I'm sure. My neighbor convinced me to ride on a motorcycle and drink a pitcher of beer last night, so I think that's enough decadence for this week." I didn't feel the need to disclose the middle-aged make-out session to the good sister.
"Sounds like fun." Sister Elizabeth blew a ring of smoke.
I laughed. "Now you're just showing off."
"I know. I'm an awful show off. Always have been. I'm the youngest of eight, so I had to do something to stand out."
"Becoming a nun wasn't enough?"
She smiled. "Oh no. They barely noticed I was gone. Well, that's not really true. My mother didn't think I'd last a week so she didn't bother to throw me a going away party. She barely said goodbye. No one thought I'd make it, not even Mother Superior. It wasn't always easy, especially after I took my final vows. I was the youngest nun in the convent by at least twenty years and the older nuns were awful to me."
I shifted my weight to get comfortable on the hard bench. "Did you ever think of dropping out?"
"Oh, all the time, especially that first year at Our Lady of Angels." She dragged on the cigarette. "I swear I wouldn't have made it through the first three months if it wasn't for Rosie. I cried for my mother every night. And I was always getting into trouble. Did your mother tell you how I had latrine duty for a solid year?"
"Latrine duty? Sounds like the army."
"Sometimes it felt like the army too. Except that in the army you at least get a night's leave. Convent life back then was 24-7. But, you must know that. I'm sure your mother told you."
"No. She never talked about it. But then again, she's good at keeping secrets."
Sister Eliza
beth gave me a hard, appraising look. "Well, if you have any questions for her, now is the time to ask them."
"Yeah, right. If I dare discuss anything other than the weather with her, Molly will have my head. My marching orders from Molly are to be bright and cheerful and not upset my mother."
"This isn't about Molly. It's about you and your mother. Sure, it won't be easy for you to ask questions and it may not be easy for Rose to answer them, but you'll regret it if you don't ask. Many times I counsel families not to bring up distressing topics when a patient is this close to the end. In this case I believe it would be good for both you and your mother to have an honest conversation about what you feel she's kept from you. You may not like what she has to say, but at least you'll know."
"So we can have closure?"
"Closure. I hate that word." Sister Elizabeth stubbed out her cigarette. "You can't wrap up a forty year relationship in a neat little package with a few words. But, you can be honest with each other, and that's something more than what you have now, isn't it?"
I nodded. Sister Elizabeth lit another cigarette.
"I almost don't know where to begin," I said, my voice husky with emotion. "I don't know her at all. You say my mother broke the rules by sneaking in chocolate? I can't imagine anyone less likely to break a rule. Or to do anything really. She's spent her life in that house on Rose Hill. Gardening. Cooking dinner for my grandmother. Going to mass. What kind of life was that?"
"Is that really who you think your mother is?" Sister Elizabeth asked. "You make her sound like a housekeeper."
"That's what she was, wasn't she? She wasn't a wife. She wasn't much of a mother. What did she ever do other than serve as my grandmother's skivvy."
"I feel sorry for you, Ellen. I really do, and I'm not saying this to hurt your feelings. Rose is one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She's given up everything to care for her family. Her freedom. Her vocation. Her very life."
"Come on," I scoffed. "You're making her sound like Mother Teresa. This is what I know: she flunked out of the convent because she couldn't hack it. She obviously went out one night, got pregnant and couldn't convince the guy to stick around. Then she hid behind my grandmother for the rest of her life."
The Girls on Rose Hill Page 8