The House of Roses (22 page)

“
Oh, dammit!  I forgot to put the top on the carafe,” Rita said, grabbing towels from a basket in the corner.

“
There're grounds everywhere.”

“
I know,” Rita said. Coffee and grounds continued to spill over the basket and run down the pot onto the counter. A puddle of coffee had formed, and was running onto the floor in a steady stream. Caitlin grabbed for a handful of paper towels, and shut off the pot.

Rita was on her knees mopping up the floor. She finished and lofted the towels over her head, aiming for the sink, but missing by a foot. She sat on the floor with her back against the counter, looked up at her daughter and sighed. “How does tea sound?” she asked, and Caitlin laughed.

“
Tea's fine, Mom. I'll make it.”

“
While you do that, we need to think about dinner,” Rita said. She clumsily contorted and turned, and struggled to stand, looking as though she were deep into a game of Twister.

“
Can I help you, Mom?”

“
Nope. I know better than to sit like that,” she said breathlessly. “Okay, I'm good now. I need to get back to my exercise class. Bodies like this need work.”

“
Working out is good. You should walk more.”

“
How was your walk?  You were gone a long time,” Rita said, as Caitlin poured tea. 

“
It was good. We walked along the canal, and then I went to visit Daddy's grave. I think I found Charles's grave, Mom. Ella's friend.”  Caitlin couldn't see Rita's face, but she was sure she saw immediate tension in her mother's body. “Mom?  Who was Charles Tayler?  Is he related to us?” Caitlin asked, as Rita reached for a mug of tea.

“
Why do you ask?” Rita said, forcing herself to sound casual.

“
There are flowers planted at his grave. Flowers that look a lot like the ones at Daddy's,” Caitlin said, as she slid herself carefully into a kitchen chair.

“
And that makes you think we're related?” Rita asked.

“
Well, no,” Caitlin said, sipping gently at the hot tea. “The flowers make me think of Ella. It looks like her work. His last name makes me think we're related.”

“
Hollings and Tayler?” Rita asked, sitting across from her daughter.

“
Rita, don't be coy,” Caitlin said, sounding annoyed.

“
Who's coy?”

“
Mom!  Tayler........my middle name. T.A.Y.L.E.R!  Sound familiar?” Caitlin asked, watching Rita carefully to gauge her reaction.

“
What are you asking, Cate?” Rita asked, and to Caitlin she looked genuinely frightened.

“
Am I named after Charles Tayler?”

“
What difference does it make?”  Rita tried to sound casual, but inside she was terrified. She always knew this day would come, but frankly, she'd expected it long before. Forty-four years was a long time to keep a secret.

“
What difference does it make if you answer me?” Caitlin asked, as Rogan began to fuss. Caitlin crossed the room to take her son from the stroller.

“
Do you want me to take him?” Rita asked.

“
No, I want you to tell me what's going on here.”

“
I can't. Not like this.”

“
Then how, and when?”

“
Caitlin, it's a long story, and I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you.”

“
Then who should?  You're my mother!” Caitlin said, nearly shouting, and Rita looked like she had been struck. “You are my mother, aren't you?” Caitlin asked, and although her face was red, her voice was far more gentle.

“
Cate,” Rita said, nearly begging.

“
Mom, please. I'm an adult. Whatever happened, I deserve to know. If not for me, then for your grandchildren.”

“
That's not fair,” Rita said with a sigh.

“
Neither is this.”

Rita sighed again. Caitlin was right. It wasn't fair. She deserved the truth, and Rita paused for only a moment, just long enough to ask for the strength to tell it.

Twenty-seven

Liz Parker had napped for two hours when the phone rang, waking her instantly. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, but then she recognized her living room. The phone rang from the arm of the couch where she had been sleeping.

“
Howie?” Liz said, expecting to hear her husband's voice. The caller was not her husband, and Liz felt frightened as she listened to the strange voice. “Yes, this is Liz Parker,” she said, trying to force the sleep from her voice. She listened carefully, coming fully awake almost instantly. “I don't understand,” Liz said, sounding frantic. “You said she was better.” 

A soft knock sounded at the front door, and Liz rose from the couch on trembling legs. Her son, looking handsome and official in his police uniform, stood on her porch. She opened the door and Nathan Parker stepped into the foyer.

“
Mom,” he said softly, and Liz motioned him to come farther into the house.

“
It's the hospital,” she whispered, and although her voice was calm, fear burned brightly in her eyes. “I'll be there as soon as I can. I understand. I'll call her.”

“
Mom,” Nathan said again, this time without whispering, as Liz Parker laid the phone down on the coffee table. “What happened?” he asked, sitting on the sofa beside his mother, and taking her hand in his. “Did Aunt Ella die?”  Liz could hear the pain in his voice. Death frightened him so, and he'd already had great loss in his life. Liz looked at her son. His eyes looked pained, and she saw the beginning of tears welling there.

“
No.........”

“
But she's worse?” Nathan asked, and Liz began to cry.

“
Yes, she's worse.”

“
What happened, Mom?” Nathan asked, taking his mother into his strong arms.

“
She's diabetic. She never knew. The nurse said diabetes causes heart failure. Ella had a heart attack. They're not sure she'll make it through the night.”

“
I'm sorry.”

“
Me too, Nathan,” Liz said. “I have to call Rita. Ella wants to see her and Caitlin.”

“
I'll call. You go change, Mom.”

“
Thanks, honey. Her cell number is on that pad by the phone.”

Nathan picked up the phone. He felt the sob welling in his throat, but he needed to be strong for his mother, and so, he forced it back. His hand trembled as he read the number and punched it into the phone. His call went to voice mail. He spoke carefully, and calmly,  and when he was done, he laid the phone on the table.

“
What's the number at the house, Mom?  Rita doesn't answer her cell.”

“
It's in my address book in my purse.”

“
We'll call her from the car,” Nathan said. He set his hat on the couch beside him. He was Deputy Nathan Parker, a man who had learned to control his emotions, but to his Aunt Ella, he was “Noonie”, a small boy who loved his mother's sister with all his heart. He listened to the sounds of his mother moving around above him, as one by one his tears fell into his lap.

***

“
Mom, your cell is ringing,” Caitlin yelled up the stairs.

“
Let it go,” Rita called back, appearing at the top of the stairs with a photo album.

“
What if it's important?” Caitlin asked.

“
If it is, they'll leave a message. This is more important,” Rita said timidly, as she descended the stairs. Rita sat at the kitchen table and laid the photo album in front of her. Caitlin stood in the doorway watching her carefully.

“
I gave birth to a little girl almost six years before you were born,” Rita said softly, and Caitlin gasped.

“
I have a sister?” Caitlin asked, crossing the kitchen to sit across from her mother.

“
You did. She was five years old when she died. Her name was Margaret.”

“
After Grandma,” Caitlin said softly.

“
Yes.”

“
What happened to her, Mom?” Caitlin asked, the calm in her tone caused by the sudden numbness she felt.

“
She died from the flu. Children die from the flu, not so much now as then, but they do. It nearly killed your daddy and me to bury her.”

“
I'm sorry. Why didn't you ever tell me?” Caitlin asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“
It's a long story, Cate.” Rita said.

“
I am gathering that. I need to know, Mom, and I think you need to tell me.”

“
I do.”

Rita opened the photo album. Old pictures, yellow with age, stared up at both women.

“
Is that my sister?” Caitlin asked, pointing to a photo of a little girl with blond hair.

“
Yes,” Rita said, choking back a sob.

“
She was beautiful,” Caitlin said, in little more than a whisper.

“
Yes, she was.”

Rita turned the page. Caitlin recognized her father immediately. He held the hand of the little girl who had been her sister. They stared at each other in the photo, and it was obvious how much her father had adored the child whose hand he held.

“
He was devastated,” Rita said. “I don't think I've ever seen a man more heartbroken.”

“
Oh, Mom. I'm so sorry.”

“
Me too, Cate. Me, too. It was an awful time for us. Everyone was so supportive, especially Ella. We lived in Philadelphia then. Ella came as soon as she heard. She was with us night and day. Look, Cate. Look at how young we were,”  Rita said, as she held a loose photo of two very young women.

“
She was so pretty.”

“
She was.”

“
So were you, Mom,” Caitlin said.

“
This was taken the summer I met Ella. We were still teenagers. Ella used to come to Philadelphia every summer to spend time with her cousins. I remember the day I met her, Cate. We were best friends almost immediately. We still are.”

“
Oh, Mom. She looks beautiful here,” Caitlin said, pointing to another dated photo. “She looks so happy.”

“
She was. She was in love, Cate. She was in love with a man named Charles Tayler. She'd planned to marry him.”

“
But he died.”

“
He did. New Hope had quite an Indian summer that year. The weather was crazy. One day it was seventy degrees, the next day, it was twenty. Charles took care of Ella. He loved her maybe more than any man has ever loved a woman. We had a blizzard that year, in November. The heavy snow had taken down the power lines, and we had no electricity. It was pitch dark, and Ella and I were scared. Charles was on his way to see us.”

“
You were here?”

“
Yes. We were here with Ella's grandmother, Ada, who owned this house back then. I had come home with Ella after Margaret passed away. Daddy needed to work, not just because we were young and needed the money, but because he needed something other than heartbreak to occupy his mind. I couldn't be alone, and I needed to be someplace where no one knew me. I needed to be someplace where everyone I passed didn't have sympathy in their eyes. Ella was living here with her grandmother, who wasn't well. They took me in until Daddy found a job here,” Rita explained. She paused to look at her daughter. Caitlin stared down at her hands.

Bravely Rita continued. “I'll never forget the night Charles died. Ella was on the porch waiting for him. She knew. When he was ten minutes late, she knew.”

“
What happened, Mom?”

“
Charles was on his way here. Honest to God, Cate, it was snowing so hard you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The roads were terrible. Charles lost control of his truck. He went off the road. A witness said the truck rolled four or five times before coming to rest on its roof, before coming to rest on top of Charles Tayler.”

“
Oh, Mom. How sad. Poor Ella,” Caitlin said.

“
She never got over that,” Rita said. “I'm not sure she ever got over any of it.”

“
There's more?” Caitlin asked.

“
Yes. Charles Tayler left something behind when he died. Something beautiful and heartbreaking,” Rita said, preparing herself for the words she always knew she'd one day say.