The Mill River Redemption (24 page)

“So, what are you doing with the tire? And this ladder?”

“My flat tire couldn’t be fixed, so I traded it for another old one without steel wires to make a tire swing for you.”

“Cool!” Alex said. “I’ve never been on a tire swing.”

“I suspected,” Emily said. “What’s with the notebook?”

Alex picked up his notebook and removed some papers from a folder inside. “I made a copy of my spreadsheet for you, the one of all the books in our house. He held the sheets out to her.

“You did this all yourself?” Emily asked. She was shocked at the number of entries in the chart. “My gosh, there’s a lot of them.”

“I know. That’s sort of why I wanted to give you a copy now. I thought that maybe you could get a head start on comparing our list to yours.”

“Well, yeah. This will definitely help.” Emily smiled up at Alex, and he was beaming back at her. She leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree as she took a moment to study the spreadsheet. It went on for pages. If one, or both, of the clues was a book, how would she and Rose know? It would take forever to go through them all.

She had to admit that if her mother’s goal had been to force her and Rose to interact, to work together, she had devised a brilliant plan to achieve it. Then again, she wasn’t technically interacting with Rose herself, which was just as well. Alex was endearing, and she was grateful for the opportunity to build a relationship with her only nephew.

“This is just great, Alex,” she said. “I’ll go over it tonight, as
soon as I’m done out here. And when you show this to your mom, ask her to mark which books she’s read and which she hasn’t. I think she and I should focus on those we’ve read first.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll talk to her about it as soon as she wakes up.”

“All right,” Emily said. She folded the papers and slipped them into her back pocket. “I should get working on the swing while it’s still light.”

“I can’t wait until you’re done,” Alex said. He grasped the binoculars around his neck and traced a finger around the circular lenses. “Aunt Emily, is it okay if I don’t tell Mom you gave these to me? She wouldn’t like it if she knew.”

“Sure,” Emily said, “but what will you tell her about how you got them?”

Alex thought a minute. “I can always say I found them in the house somewhere. I can even have her put them on the list.” He gave her a sly grin, much like her earlier one, and she smiled.

I’m really starting to like this kid
, Emily thought.

“I suppose there’s no harm in that,” Emily said. She didn’t exactly want to encourage her nephew to start lying, but she didn’t want Rose to take away the binoculars, either.

“I should get home in case Mom wakes up,” he said. Alex stood up, but instead of leaving, he stood next to Gus, patting the dog’s head. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “You know, I really want to help Mom find her clue. She’s been worried about it … she and Dad argue about it on the phone, and it upsets her.”

“I’m sure it does,” Emily said, and her nephew’s words made her heart ache. “It’s frustrating for me, too, and I know how flustered your mom can get. It can’t be easy for you to deal with that, either. I was always the one keeping her in line and trying to make her feel better about things while we were growing up, just like you are now.” It occurred to her that this sheltered, loving little boy had unwittingly assumed her still-too-familiar role as Rose’s keeper.

“They’re having money problems,” Alex continued. He made eye contact with her, and she tried her best not to tear up at the sad expression on his face. “Dad lost his job a long time ago, and he hasn’t been able to get another one. I hear them on the phone when they think I’m sleeping. They’re going to lose our apartment in New York unless they get money from Grandma’s lawyer.”

Although it was difficult to feel sorry for her sister and Sheldon potentially losing what was most likely a multi-million-dollar apartment, she realized that it was probably the only home Alex had ever known. She was increasingly concerned about her little nephew, and she would do her best to serve as a compassionate outlet—one that wouldn’t ignore him in favor of sleeping on the sofa.

“Money problems can be really stressful for parents,” Emily said, “but I know they wouldn’t want for you to worry or be upset about it. Your mom and dad love you, and your mom will do whatever she has to to take care of you. She’s super-protective of people she loves. She always stuck up for me when we were little.” Emily was surprised to hear herself say such positive things about her sister. She hadn’t thought about her childhood relationship with Rose in years.

“Mom
is
stubborn,” Alex said with a sheepish grin. “Dad sometimes calls her a mule to tease her.”

Emily couldn’t help but chuckle. “Even if they have to find another place for all of you to live,” she continued, “your mom and dad’ll work it out. You should just focus on enjoying your summer, your books, your binoculars. You’ve got the rest of your life to worry about grown-up problems.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “And, I’d love your help in sorting out this mess Grandma got us into. Maybe together, we can figure out what the clues are and find out where she hid her key.”

“That would be cool,” Alex said.

“All right. I’ve got a few jobs lined up—one at Turner’s Hardware, and another that’ll be starting soon, remodeling that big white house on the hill,” Emily said, pointing in the direction of the McAllister mansion. “But, let’s try to meet toward the end of the week, so I’ll have a few days to study the lists and you have time to go over yours with your mom.”

“Okay.” Alex half smiled, turned as if to walk back to Rose’s house, and suddenly rushed forward and threw his arms around her. “Thanks, Aunt Emily, for the binoculars and, uh, everything.”

“You’re welcome.” She returned his hug and grinned as he detached himself. “You know where to find me if you need me,” she added. “And Aunt Ivy’s here for you, too, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said. “She’s offered to loan me some new books if I don’t like the ones in our house, and she said I can come over to The Bookstop anytime.” He grinned and patted Gus one last time before he left. “See you, boy.”

The sun was beginning to go down when Emily finally stood back and looked at the finished tire swing. “Here goes nothing,” she said to Gus, who had been dozing while she worked. She grasped the rope of the swing, pulled it back, and stepped up and onto the tire as she pushed it forward. In that instant, as she gripped the rope with both hands, her feet tucked down inside the center hole and the tire spinning and swaying in the warm evening air, she forgot her sad, lonely, nomadic life, her problems with Rose, her mother’s death.

She was a child again, and there was only joy.

1992

T
IME CONTINUED ITS INEVITABLE MARCH, SEEMINGLY
faster and faster, as Josie became more successful with her brokerage and the girls started middle school. Even though she added a receptionist, several new agents, and an assistant broker to her staff, she rarely had a free moment. Those that she did have were almost always spent with or for Rose and Emily. The girls were good students and well liked at school, and there were more and more school functions and after-school activities in which they became involved. Despite Josie’s best efforts, though, her attendance at spelling bees, school plays, and softball games was never a sure thing. That first time she had failed to arrive home in time to enjoy the supper her girls had prepared became the start of an inevitable parade of missed events. Her schedule was often at the mercy of her clients, and she felt compelled to give deference to a professional obligation if a conflict couldn’t be avoided.

She had to make sure she could pay the bills, so her job had to take priority.

Things were especially difficult on weekends and during the spring and summer, when the real estate market was most active. During those busy periods, she resorted to scheduling her day in thirty-minute increments, trying to make time for the girls in the mornings and evenings and between appointments. Their tradition
of reading aloud together at bedtime was almost sacred, and Josie was pleased that she managed to be there most of the time.

Still, she worried it wasn’t enough.

Josie kept a running mental list of everything she’d missed. The most recent entries were Rose’s first starring role in the school musical and Emily’s winning exhibit at the school’s art show. Every time the list grew longer and she had to face the dejected face of one of her daughters, she felt as if a small piece of her heart was sliced away. Her hugs and the apologies she murmured into the girls’ ears were hardly enough to make up for her absences. She wondered how other single parents managed.

One night, when the girls were thirteen and eleven, she arrived home late and went up to their room. They were still awake. Rose was sitting in her bed reading from a book in her lap while Emily lay on her own bed, her head propped up on one elbow, listening. Josie knocked softly on the open door and smiled as she came in and sat down at Emily’s feet.

“Keep going, don’t stop,” she said when the girls looked up and saw her. “You’re getting to one of the really good parts.”

The book on Rose’s lap was
To Kill a Mockingbird
, and she had almost reached the part in the story where Atticus Finch guns down a rabid dog. As she listened to Rose’s voice, Josie mused over how much she and the fictional father in the story had in common. They’d both lost their spouses and were single, working parents of two children. They were both determined to protect and raise their children well.

“Mom?” Rose’s question jarred her from her thoughts.

“Hmmm?”

“Will you tell us … well, Em and I were wondering if you would tell us about Dad.”

“About how he died,” Emily added.

The question took Josie by surprise. Her girls knew, and had
known from the time they were old enough to understand, that their father had passed away when they were very young. She had never talked much about it, though, and the girls didn’t know the details.

“Where did this question come from, out of the blue?” she asked them.

“I was asking Rose about it before you got home,” Emily replied. “You’ve never told us.”

“Don’t you think we’re old enough to know?” Rose asked. It was clear from her tone that
she
felt she was plenty old enough to hear what had happened.

Josie exhaled slowly, trying to decide how to answer. The girls
were
older now, but they still weren’t adults, and there was no way she would tell them the whole truth. Not yet, anyway. “He died in a fire,” she said. “I was out running errands and came home to find the house burning. Your father was in the kitchen when I found him. He was already gone. You girls were upstairs in your room, and I managed to get you out.”

“What started the fire?” Rose asked.

“It was ruled an arson,” Josie said. “The police finally made an arrest about two years after we moved here.” It had been a long time since she had remembered the sheer terror of seeing the flames, of struggling to breathe as thick smoke twisted down her throat and seared her lungs while her babies cried out for her.

“Is that why we left New York and came to live with Aunt Ivy?” Emily asked.

“Yes. The authorities told me our house had probably been targeted for some reason, and it wasn’t safe for us to stay in New York.”

“I remember that night, when Aunt Ivy came and we all got in the car,” Rose whispered.

“Is the man still in jail?” Rose asked.

“Yes, honey. He’ll be in jail for the rest of his life.”

“Tell us about Dad,” Emily said quietly, after they had all sat in silence for a minute. Josie saw the longing expression on her younger daughter’s face, whose blue eyes matched those of a father she didn’t remember at all. “What was he like? Where did you meet each other?”

“He was a wonderful person, in every way, and he loved you girls so much.”

“Tall, dark, and handsome, right, Mom?” Emily asked, and Josie laughed and nodded. She wished again that she had a photo of Tony that they could see, especially now that his features and expressions were showing up more and more on their adolescent faces.

“We met on a blind date,” she began, relieved that Emily’s questions had changed the subject to one that was somewhat easier for her to remember and talk about. “My old roommate, Darlene Giordano, set us up. She was constantly trying to find dates for me, but the guys she wanted me to meet were always sleazy or smelly, and sometimes both.” Rose and Emily giggled together and wrinkled their noses.

“I told Darlene I was through with her blind dates, but she said she’d finally met a guy who was perfect for me. Someone polite and good-looking, and smart, too.”

“Was it Dad?” Emily asked, and Josie nodded.

“I met him for coffee at a little hole-in-the-wall diner. At the time, your dad was in college, studying to be an accountant. He was working part time at a diamond import company in New York City, and I was working in a jewelry store back then, so we had something in common.”

“Did you think he was cute?” Rose asked.

“Of course. Your father was very handsome,” Josie said, feeling a little color come to her cheeks. “But the longer we talked, the
more I realized that I’d never met a kinder, more compassionate person. That’s what really attracted me to him.

“On that first date, we stayed at the restaurant until it closed, and then he walked me home. I’d had so much coffee by then that I couldn’t sleep, so I was still up when Darlene got home from work. She could tell right away that we’d hit it off.”

“I’ll bet she was happy,” Rose said.

“Yes, Darlene bragged for years afterward how she matched us up,” Josie said to the girls. “I wonder what happened to her. I haven’t thought about her in a long time.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “Your dad has been gone for years now, but I still see him every day, in you girls. When you furrow your brow and concentrate on something, Rose, you look exactly like he used to. You have his stubbornness, and his determination, too. And Em, I’ve told you before that your eyes are just like his, but I think your strong sense of justice also came from him. Your father always insisted on doing the fair thing, the right thing, even when there was an easier way out.”