The House of Roses (5 page)

He still felt like a first class asshole for what he'd done to Lorry, but she'd been amazingly understanding, and they'd talked for hours over one beer that had become two, then three, then who knew how many. He suddenly remembered leaving the pub in a cab, and fought another urge to kick the suitcase.
Where the hell had he left his car? 

“
Holy shit. I don't even have my car,” he whined out loud to no one. He was a professional, nearly forty, and he chastised himself for drowning his sorrows in hops and barley.

The phone rang beside him and he nearly flew from the bed. “Doctor Thomas!” he roared into the handset.

Colin listened, feeling like a bigger jerk for barking at the caller.

“
I'm sorry, Caren,” he said, apologizing to the woman who manned his answering service. “Can you give me that again?  Maybe a little slower this time?”

Colin listened, forcing himself to concentrate on Caren's voice and ignore the roaring in his head.

“
All right. I can see them at eleven. My flight doesn't leave until two-twenty,” he said before apologizing again. “Sorry, Caren. I don't mean to bite your head off,” he said. “I had a bad night. I shouldn't be taking it out on you.”

“
Why don't you just call her?” the operator responded and Colin nearly groaned.

“
To think people believe there are secrets in medicine,” he said, and although he was annoyed, he chuckled.

“
No secrets here, Doc,” Caren said.

“
Thanks, Caren. Have a nice day. I'll try to be on better behavior if you have to call me again.”

“
I'd appreciate that. Have a safe trip,” she replied.

Colin hung up the phone and whispered another obscenity. He hated to go away. He had things to resolve, and they needed to be resolved soon. He wasn't sure how long he could exist in his present state of torment. He'd felt like a jackass with Lorry, but as the hours had passed the night before, he realized how he'd treated Caitlin was more of a disgrace. He wasn't sure he deserved her, but he had to try. He led a crazy life, and it was hard to apologize for that. She'd known when she met him that he was a doctor, a pediatrician, specializing in patients with HIV, and his schedule was frightful. What she didn't know was that she'd take second position to his career, to his other interests, and worse yet, he'd let her. He finally understood that he should have never put her second, should have never dismissed her so easily when something came up. It wasn't a matter of scheduling. He'd let her believe she was less important.

“
Stupid jackass fool,” he said out loud. His words sounded strange in the empty condo. He was a fool, and he hoped Caitlin was, too.  She'd have to be to take him back.

F
ive

The morning sun streamed through the slats in the utilitarian blinds as Caitlin Goodrich slept. It was a physically restoring sleep, the kind resulting from an exhaustion words couldn't describe. Caitlin dreamed of Colin, as she longed to do each time she laid down and closed her eyes. The sight of him, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne, the touch of his hand on her arm, each so real she was sure she'd wake to find him beside her. In the dream she wanted to tell him about his babies, but as dreams will sometimes do, this one had stolen her voice. He walked away just as he had in life, and just as she had in life, she didn't stop him. She wanted to cry out, to scream, to beg, but instead she stood, mouth agape, searching for words that wouldn't come. Finally the words came, but only in a whisper.

“
I love you. Please come back to me,” she said softly, and as in life, he didn't.

Caitlin awoke with a start. Rita Hollings dozed in a chair beside her. Caitlin rose from the bed slowly, amazed at the toll the births had taken on her body. She felt almost lethargic, and carefully she padded to the window and looked out at the city. He was out there. Somewhere in a city of over one and a half million people, he was out there. She wondered what he was doing and if he was thinking of her, and as much as she wanted to hope, she doubted it. He'd moved on. She hadn't. Even if she had, when the sun rose again tomorrow, she'd leave the hospital with two reminders of him with whom she'd share the rest of her life. He would be with her always, and although it should have been a comfort, it wasn't. Despite the joy she felt when she thought of the twins, she felt empty. He'd left a void that was astounding, a hole deep inside her, as if he'd stolen a part of her. She supposed he had. She'd given him part of herself, a part of her soul, and when he left, he'd taken them with him. He was forever a part of her, and she held back a sob as she thought of him with someone else. He'd hold someone else's hand, read the paper on Sunday morning with someone else, and at night, when the world lay sleeping, he'd give himself body and soul to someone else. She longed for him, the desire so intense that heat suddenly emulated from her body. Even with her physical being ravaged and torn, the thought of him set her skin aflame.

“
But it was more than that.”  She laid her head against the glass in the small gap in the blinds, the window cool against her forehead, the pause in thought calming her racing heart. The autumn morning was beautiful and she watched as the wind picked up, sending leaves scattering about the lawn below. The sight reminded her of the simple pleasures of life, the simple beauty and the things so many missed or took for granted.

“
I took him for granted,” she whispered in revelation.
I did. I took him for granted.

She stared out the window, amazed at how stupid she had been, how stupid lovers were in general. Why was it that they never realized the beauty of what they had until they walked away? 
I should have opened my heart to him. I should have let him in.

“
Why was I so afraid?” Caitlin asked, looking into the clouds for an answer. None came.

Movement near the ground caught her eye. Two birds chased each other through the limbs of a tree beneath her window. She watched with a gentle smile on her face as one bird moved, and the other followed in perfect rhythm. They made it look so easy to be together, to be sharing something simple.

Life could be simple, and there were times when it had been. Last autumn had been one of those times. They had  both loved autumn, when the leaves began to change and the world in which they lived prepared for winter. They'd walked for miles together through the streets of the city. She could almost feel the weight of his hand in hers, and hear the sound of brittle leaves beneath their feet.

It was like a residual haunting, the sounds and sensations playing again and again in her memory. She remembered their conversations, the debates they'd had, each of them armed with intellect and a desire to be right. Often they'd fought, but afterward they'd laughed. They had shared something beautiful. Two hopelessly flawed beings came together in a symphony of idiosyncrasies.

There was one memory, so strong, that it wouldn't surprise her if it was the last thought she had when she lay old and dying. They'd been sitting in Central Park on a cloudy afternoon the previous summer when for one brief moment the clouds parted and a single ray of sunshine had been released. She'd been toiling over
The New York Times
crossword. He'd been reading
The Post
and drinking coffee. It was something they loved to do. They'd been sitting together on a bench, the way they always did. He lounged with one leg casually crossed over the other. She sat by his side, close enough to feel him beside her. They'd each been lost in their thoughts and had both looked up when the sun finally broke free. He'd leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek, the kiss so soft she'd barely felt it. She'd smiled at him, and he at her, and he'd looked at her for a long moment.

“
What?” she'd asked, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“
I'm taking a picture,” he said, and she'd arched a brow at him.

“
A picture of what?”

“
A picture of us. I want to remember sitting here with you on an ordinary day. I want to remember how much I love you right now at this moment.”

She'd looked at him, before pressing her lips to his, and at that moment her heart had captured a photo of its own, an image of two lovers who had paused long enough on an ordinary day to recognize an extraordinary love.

“
I love you,” she'd whispered, and suddenly the clouds rejoined and the sun disappeared.

She would never forget that day, that moment, the sun on his face, the soft touch of his lips on hers, and the words she would carry forever in her heart. She stood for a long time staring out at the world, a world that looked less inviting because she faced it without him. Tears ran down her face as she opened her heart and felt the pain of losing him once again.

“
Cate?” Rita asked, her voice thick with sleep. “You okay, baby?”

Caitlin turned her tear-streaked face away from the window and sighed deeply. “I'm trying to find a way to be,” she said softly, not quite meeting her mother's eyes.

“
You'll find your way,” Rita said softly.

“
I'm not sure this time. I don't know if I can find my way without him. I need him, Mom. I don't know how to survive without him,” Caitlin replied, her tears falling steadily.

“
You need to tell him that, Caitlin. Did you call him?” Rita asked softly, and only then did Caitlin look at her.

“
I can't. I'm not ready.”

“
He needs to know.”

“
I'll call him soon,” Caitlin said, turning to look out the window again.

She said a silent prayer of gratitude for the miracle of her children. Before she turned away, she asked God for the strength to face the man she knew she would always love. She wanted Colin to know his children, to love his children, but part of her wasn't sure how to exist in a world where he loved the twins, but not her.

“
Mom?” Caitlin said, shuffling slowly back to the bed.

“
What is it, honey?”

“
What am I going to do?” Caitlin asked.

“
I don't know, Cate. It's something you have to figure out for yourself.”

“
You're a lot of help,” Caitlin quipped.

“
What do you want to do, Caitlin?”

“
I don't know.”

“
It will come to you,” Rita offered, and Caitlin sniffed loudly. “Wipe your face, kiddo. Let's take a walk,” Rita said, handing Caitlin a scratchy tissue from the box on the bedside table.

“
Oh God,” Caitlin groaned, wiping her nose. “Mom, no.”

“
You sit. I'll push,” Rita offered and Caitlin relented.

She slid herself with some effort into the wheelchair in the corner of the room. She wondered if she'd ever be a normal size person again.

“
I'm fat,” she whined, as Rita took position behind the chair.

“
You just had twins, Caitlin. I think you could cut yourself a little slack.”

“
I'll be lucky if I ever fit into slacks again.”

“
You will,” Rita said, steering her daughter into the hall.

“
Mom, where are we going?” Caitlin asked. The hospital seemed to be waking up around them as they made their way through its hallways.

“
Do you remember Airplane, Cate?”

“
The movie?” Caitlin asked, wondering what in the world that had to do with her present predicament.

“
No. The Airplane game you and Daddy played.”

“
Yeah. I remember that.”

“
Wanna play Airplane?”

“
What?” Caitlin asked with a slight laugh.

“
Put your arms out,” Rita encouraged.

“
No!”

Rita began making a low rumbling sound, which grew louder as the wheelchair gained speed.

“
Mom!” Caitlin said loudly.

“
What?” Rita said, stopping the engine sound long enough to answer.

“
You're crazy!”

“
I know. Put your arms out.”

“
Will you stop if I do?”

“
Eventually. Just do it.”

Reluctantly, Caitlin did, and the two moved through the hallway at an unacceptable speed, looking as if they belonged on another ward.

“
Okay, enough. Where are we going?” Caitlin demanded.

“
Here,” Rita said, stopping in front of the nursery window. “Look at them,” Rita said.

Caitlin lifted herself from the wheelchair and peered into the nursery window. Her babies lay side by side and her broken heart seemed to heal, if ever so slightly, as she watched them.