The Mill River Redemption (36 page)

“I know Mom enjoyed the services there,” Rose said. “She liked everything about Mill River, especially how close the people are.”

“Yes. I expect it’s a very different place from New York in that way. It’s easy to get lost in such a big city.”

“Mmm.” Rose pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, and he couldn’t tell whether she was agreeing with him or merely trying to avoid saying something unpleasant. He decided to push onward.

“Your mother was always worried about you being there,” he told Rose. “She knew how it was in the city, you know.”

“I know. She grew up in the Bronx,” Rose said. “Father, I don’t mean to be rude, but I keep getting the feeling that you’re not just here to make polite conversation.”

Father O’Brien drew a deep breath. “Well, that’s true. I’m here partly because I’m wondering how you and your sister are doing with your mother’s last directive. From what I’ve heard, things don’t seem to be going too well.”

“Ivy obviously put you up to visiting me. I should’ve known.”

“Actually, I offered to speak with you, and she accepted my offer. That you and Emily haven’t been following your mother’s instructions is only one of the things she’s worried about.”

Rose sighed. “We’re doing the best we can, Father. At least, I am. What my sister is doing is really not something I waste time worrying about. In fact, I can’t stand the sight of her, so I try to avoid her as much as I can. There’s still more than a month before Mom’s deadline for finding her key, and these houses are hardly mansions. We
will
find it. You and Ivy needn’t worry.”

Father O’Brien nodded. “All right.” He took the wrapped package from his lap and held it out to her. “I also told Ivy that I’d bring this to you. It’s from your mother, something she wanted Ivy to give to you at the appropriate time.”

“From my mother?” Rose reached forward to accept the package, her expression wary, almost disbelieving. “What is it?”

Father O’Brien shrugged. “I couldn’t say, but I’m sure you’ll want to open it in private.”

Rose looked down at the package in her hand and chewed on her bottom lip.

“There’s one last thing I wanted to talk with you about,” Father O’Brien said. “It’s a sensitive subject, but I’m going to be completely open with you. Your aunt Ivy is convinced that you’re drinking quite a bit, Rose. She’s afraid for you, and Alex, that it’s spiraling out of control.”

Rose’s face snapped up and her eyes flashed. “I do NOT have a drinking problem, Father, and I take excellent care of my son. I always have.”

“Your son seems very well cared for,” he countered evenly, “but you do have a drinking problem, Rose, just as sure as Coke isn’t the only thing in that glass you’ve got there. I know you’ve struggled with alcohol for a long time, ever since the accident.” He watched as Rose rolled her eyes and looked away. “There are people who are ready and willing to help you, but you have to admit you have a problem and ask for help first.”

“Father, I do not need help, and I’m not about to sit here and listen to this,” Rose said, jumping up off the couch. “Maybe you’ve known my family since I was young, and maybe you were good friends with my mother, but you really don’t know me. Not at all. You can’t just come into my home and accuse me of being a … an alcoholic … and neglecting my child.”

“No one has said you neglect your child.” Father O’Brien
worked hard to keep his voice low and soothing. “And as for the drinking, I’m just stating a fact, as difficult as it is for you to hear. Any kind of addiction is hard to admit, I know.”

“You know?” Rose asked. “
You
know
how
? Through your excellent armchair diagnosis?”

“Of course I’m not a physician, Rose,” he said. “But I do have a very good idea of what you’re dealing with. I’ve counseled many, many people with addictions … and I’m an addict myself.” Father O’Brien paused after his last statement. He hadn’t planned on openly stating that truth; indeed, it was the first time he had done so in decades. It had just slipped out, and now he waited to see Rose’s reaction.

She raised her eyebrows. “
You’re
an addict?”

He nodded solemnly. Rose’s eyes narrowed, and he couldn’t tell whether she was genuinely confused or trying to suppress a smile.

“Well, what’s your poison, Father? Or is it a drug of some kind? Or maybe caffeine?”

“None of those, actually. I’m addicted to … stealing. Spoons, in particular. Although I’m currently in recovery.”

Rose’s mouth fell open. She stared at him for a few moments and then burst into laughter. “You’re a priest and a … recovering spoon addict? That’s hysterical, Father, really. Maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll be sure and lock up my flatware the next time you stop by.” She continued to chuckle until she realized that he wasn’t laughing or even smiling.

“It’s not at all funny to me, Rose,” he said. “Stealing anything compulsively is a very serious problem, just like yours is. You may not be prepared to acknowledge it yet, but I want you to think about what I’ve told you, and I want you to know that I face a similar struggle every day. So many times, an addict, particularly someone who is addicted to alcohol or drugs, doesn’t ask for help
until something awful happens. He or she ends up getting hurt or hurts someone else.” Father O’Brien softened the tone of his voice even further, until he was almost pleading. “The accident all those years ago was enough tragedy for a lifetime, don’t you think? I came here this afternoon because I don’t want anything else, any other horrible thing, to happen to you, Rose, and neither does Ivy. But we can’t help you unless you’re willing to help yourself.”

Rose clenched her jaw and remained silent.

Father O’Brien rose from his chair. “I’ll see myself out.” As he reached the front door, he turned back to look at Rose. She was still standing there, biting her lip again, with a pensive expression on her face. “Please think about what I’ve told you, and know that I’m one of those people who are ready to help you,” he said to her. “You are in my prayers.”

W
ITH
F
ATHER
O’B
RIEN SAFELY OUT OF HER LIVING ROOM AND HER
glass refilled, Rose sat down on the sofa and ripped the paper from the package he’d brought. The book of Shakespeare’s plays inside was stiff and new, unlike the old copy her mother had used to induce sleep over the years.

Why would Mom want me to have this?
Rose wondered. She flipped it open and removed a small photo that had been tucked within the pages. It was a picture of her and Emily as very young children nestled together on a beanbag in The Bookstop. They had a large picture book spread open across both their laps, and Emily was leaning against her shoulder with a pacifier in her mouth. She realized that the photo must have been taken soon after their arrival in Mill River.

A bright yellow caught her eye, and Rose turned her attention to the pages marked by the photo. A short passage from
Hamlet
had been highlighted.

“Really, Mom?” Rose said aloud. Angry tears began to dribble out of her eyes, and she glanced wildly up at the ceiling and around the room, trying to decide where to direct her voice. “Do you really think I don’t try to do that? Do you not know that I wake up every day,
every fucking day
, and think about what I am, and what I’ve done, and how I can never go back and change things, even though I’d give anything for that chance?”

She slammed the book shut and threw it across the room. The photo that she had removed from it slipped from her fingers and fell, landing on the carpet facedown. Only then did she notice the familiar, elegant handwriting on the back of it. She plucked the picture off the floor and held it up to read.

2011

“M
OM
, I
NEED SOME MORE HANGERS
,” E
MILY SAID
. “A
RE
there extras in your closet? The shirts in the dryer are almost done, and I don’t want them to get wrinkled.”

“Goodness, Em, you didn’t come all the way from San Francisco to do my laundry!”

“I know, but it was piled up in your room. I figured I’d help out, since you’ve had a rough week.”

Josie sighed and turned from the living room window. “I did, and I appreciate it, sweetie. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Me doing laundry, you mean? Or you working too much?”

“Both.” Josie smiled as Emily rolled her eyes. “There are plenty of hangers in the closet. Help yourself.”

Emily had just gone back upstairs when a car door slammed outside. Josie jumped up, took a deep breath, and slipped out the front door.

“Hey, Mom,” Rose said as she climbed out of a shiny maroon BMW parked along the curb. She pushed her sunglasses back onto her head and smiled.

“Oh, Rosie, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” Josie walked to her older daughter and caught her up in a long embrace. “You’re a little late. Was traffic bad?”

“It always sucks getting out of the city, but once I got into Westchester, it was a breeze.”

“Well, you’re here now. Let’s go in. I’ve got some cold lemonade in the fridge.” Josie was tempted to pull Rose by the arm, but her hands were so cold and clammy that she decided against it. Instead, she held the door open as her daughter maneuvered a small suitcase inside.

“Come sit down, honey,” she said as she motioned Rose into the kitchen.

“Just let me stand a minute or two, Mom. I’ve been cramped up in the car for hours. I was going to hit a rest stop along the way, but since I was running late—”

Rose stopped speaking as the rapid thumping of someone descending the stairs sounded through the house. Her mouth opened slightly as she turned and saw Emily approaching the entrance to the kitchen.

“What is
she
doing here?” Rose whirled around and made eye contact with her before turning back to Emily.

“Mom? What’s going on?” Emily held a cluster of clothes hangers in each hand. She stopped and started to backpedal as she stared at Rose.

“Girls, please, please, listen to me for a minute,” Josie said. “Now that you’re both here, I just want—”

“You want what?” Rose said. “For us to kiss and make up? God, I don’t believe this.”

“Is that why you begged me to come for a visit? For this little rendezvous?” Emily snorted. “I’m in the middle of a huge renovation. I had subcontractors and supplies scheduled to show up every day, and leaving totally put me behind schedule. You promised you’d never have us visit at the same time.”

“Honey, I know, but it has been ten years,” Josie said. “
Ten years
since the accident and since you’ve seen each other. I know it was a terrible thing, but this
separation
of yours has gone on too long.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Emily said. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

“You’re sisters. You need each other,” Josie said in a pleading voice. “I know you don’t see it, but you do, and you will.”

“Like hell we do,” Rose said. “And I’ve said everything I intend to say about that night a long time ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving while I can still make it home before rush hour.” She went back to the front door and snatched up the suitcase she’d brought inside.

“Rosie, please wait,” Josie said, but Emily blocked her path. Her younger daughter shoved the clothes hangers into her arms before returning upstairs.

Josie fumbled around, clutching at the curved hooks as several of the wire hangers fell around her feet. By the time she got out the front door, Rose was back in her car with the engine running.

“Rose, please Rose!” she called, but her older daughter stepped on the gas and peeled down the street without looking at her. A few moments later, Emily came out the front door carrying a bulging backpack.

“I’m going to Ivy’s. I’ll be leaving in the morning, if the airline will let me change my ticket.” Emily wiped at her eyes and started toward The Bookstop before Josie grabbed her arm.

“Em, please. I’m sorry I upset you. Won’t you stay with me?”

Emily looked into her eyes for a long while. “You don’t get it, Mom,” she finally said. “Rose and me … it’s not going to happen. It’s not something you can fix, and it’s about damn time you stopped trying.”

Josie watched her run over to Ivy’s and through the side door. She made it back inside her own home and had collapsed on the sofa when Ivy knocked softly and let herself in.

“It was a crazy, desperate idea, and you knew it probably
wouldn’t work to bring them together like that, but at least you tried,” Ivy said.

“I can’t have them hate each other for the rest of their lives. It’ll be the death of me, and they’ll be so alone,” Josie said. “I’ll never give up on them. I can’t. But I don’t know what else I can do.”

Ivy bent over to hug her and kiss her cheek. “Kid, you need to realize that you’ve done all you can.”

2013

A
S TIME PASSED AFTER HER FAILED ATTEMPT TO BRING THE GIRLS
together, Josie found comfort in her little home in Mill River. Every room in the house held happy memories of the girls and their growing up. She could close her eyes and remember sitting with them at the kitchen table, sharing a meal or helping with homework. How many movies and holiday specials had they gathered to watch in front of the television in the living room? In the bathroom, she’d given them bubble baths when they were well, sponge baths when they’d had fevers, and lessons on how to apply makeup when they’d become teenagers. And their bedroom had always been her last stop before she herself had retired for the night.

Even during the hard early years, when the girls were young and she was always exhausted, and later, after her relationship with Rose had started to become more confrontational, she had never grown tired of watching their beautiful faces as they slept. She still sometimes paused at their old room on her way to bed. She could almost hear the giggles and whispers of two sisters sharing their dreams.