The Mill River Redemption (31 page)

“Ruth told me that Mary McAllister used to keep horses on the property, in the stable down behind the house, and that her father raised Morgans. I thought that would be a nice image to have in the house—something involving horses and the Vermont scenery, I mean.”

“It’s a splendid idea,” he agreed. “I used to go riding with Mary. She had a black mare named Ebony who was very gentle … and very patient with inexperienced riders like me.” He smiled, and Emily saw his eyes glaze over just for a moment as he reminisced. “She had a copper chestnut mare named Penny, too, and a red bay gelding named Monarch. They were all beautiful animals. I’ll look forward to seeing this when it’s finished.”

In the kitchen, Emily prepared a generous serving of ice cream and handed it to him. “Here you go. Spoons are right in that drawer next to the stove.”

“Thank you.” He set the wrapped package on the table so that he could accept the ice cream and, with some trepidation, he pulled open the drawer she mentioned. For a few seconds, he stared down into the silverware tray, admiring the sturdy tablespoons and the smaller, delicate teaspoons that were stacked there. A few mismatched serving spoons of various sizes were tucked in outside the silverware tray, too, and even these were attractive.

So lovely, and such an opportunity
, he thought, but since Mary’s death, he had kept his promise and found the strength to battle his addiction. As he tentatively picked up one of the tablespoons, he could see Mary’s face in his mind, nodding her approval and smiling with encouragement.

“Have a seat, Father,” Emily said as she sat down at the kitchen table. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I’m getting the feeling you’re here to talk about more than my arrival in Mill River.”

“Well, there are a couple reasons, actually,” he said. He pulled out a chair and joined her. Quickly, he took a bite of the ice cream and smiled at her. “This hits the spot, by the way. Thank you.”

Emily smiled and nodded in return, waiting for him to continue.

“I suppose the first thing I wanted to ask you was whether you and your sister have discussed any sort of burial for your mother.”

“Oh, no,” Emily said. “No, we haven’t talked about that at all. In fact, we really haven’t talked all that much about anything. I feel bad about it. I know Ivy still has Mom’s ashes, which puts her in an awkward spot, but we’re no closer to deciding anything about her burial than we were at her wake.”

Father O’Brien nodded. “It’s important that her remains be placed in consecrated ground. Just know that I’m happy to help whenever you and your sister are ready. I’m sure Ivy doesn’t mind keeping the ashes until then, seeing as how she loved your mom so much. Ivy did mention that she was concerned about Rose and Alex because she suspects Rose is drinking again.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Emily said with a bitter edge to her voice. “I don’t think she ever stopped.”

“Addiction is a terrible thing,” Father O’Brien said. He swallowed another mouthful of ice cream as he ran his thumb up the smooth, polished handle of the spoon in his hand. “I’m convinced
that the only way anyone can overcome it is if the decision to stop drinking, or smoking, or whatever, comes from within. It’s troubling, though, to think that Rose has her young son with her if she’s still struggling with alcohol.”

“I know,” Emily said. “But, I’ve been sort of keeping tabs on Alex, and he and I have gotten to know each other a little. Rose has been letting him do a lot of what Mom asked of us, and he’s actually done a good job so far. He’s an amazing little boy, smart and kind and loving, despite his mother. I get the feeling that he takes care of himself most of the time, and I think he takes care of Rose quite a bit, too. I can totally sympathize with that.”

“How do you mean?” Father O’Brien asked.

Emily snorted. “The whole time we were growing up, I was the one covering for Rose, lying to Mom about where she was, taking care of her when she came home drunk after sneaking out or was sick with a hangover in the morning. I did the cooking and the dishes when Mom always had to work long hours. Rose did whatever she wanted, and I don’t see how that’s changed. Alex seems starved for his mother’s attention and approval, but based on what he tells me, she’s passed out on the sofa a good part of the time.”

“Do you think a call to the authorities would be in order?”

“I actually threatened her with it already,” Emily said, “but I don’t see how it would change anything. Rose is good at hiding her drinking and putting her best foot forward when she has to. Alex doesn’t show any outward signs of abuse or neglect. He’s well fed, has nice clothes and a nice place to live, and is so smart and loves her so much that he wouldn’t say anything to implicate her. I think a social worker would be hard-pressed to find anything wrong.”

Father O’Brien was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I know Ivy’s worried about him, too. If what you say is true, even if Alex seems fine, the whole situation just strikes me as one where a child slips through the cracks and where something awful could
happen when we least expect it. But you’re probably right that an official visit from the county would probably be pointless right now. I do intend to talk with Rose myself, though, and soon.”

“Good luck with that,” Emily said. “If you’ve got a suit of armor, you might put it on, just in case.”

“My armor is a spiritual one, and it’s always with me,” he replied with a smile. “I’m still alive and kicking, so I think it’s protected me very well so far.”

“Father, could I ask … well, it’s a little awkward, but I wonder how it is that you’ve stayed here, in Mill River, for so long? I thought priests were moved around quite a bit?”

“Yes, that’s true,” he replied. “Most priests are moved every five years or so, and most Catholic clergy are required to retire at age seventy. I was granted an exception to those rules long ago by a bishop who obtained a papal dispensation on my behalf. To make a long story short, my presence was needed here to help care for someone who could not survive on her own, and I agreed to stay to keep a promise I made to provide that care.”

“You’re talking about the Widow McAllister, aren’t you? After the last town meeting, Mom called me up and told me all about it. She was so touched by what Mary did for everyone here for so many years.”

“Yes. Her husband’s grandfather, Conor McAllister, was a man of considerable influence. When Mary’s husband died suddenly and the rest of the family turned against her, he was the only one who remained committed to her well-being. He was also on very good terms with the Catholic leadership in Burlington, and Bishop Ross was able to secure the dispensation for me at Conor’s request. I’ve been lucky and thankful that the church hierarchy since then has continued to honor it.”

“I hope that Mrs. McAllister’s death won’t jeopardize your staying here now,” Emily said.

“I don’t think it will,” Father O’Brien said. “Mill River is a small parish, and priests are harder and harder to come by. Even though I’m far past the normal retirement age, I expect the current bishop of Burlington will let me serve this community until I no longer can.”

“It sounds like you’re safe, then,” Emily said with a smile. “I’m glad. I think my mom would’ve been glad, too.”

He smiled at her and worked on his ice cream for a moment, which was melting faster than he was eating it, as he debated with himself how to broach the next subject. “Could I ask
you
a somewhat awkward question?” he finally said. “Your aunt Ivy mentioned that you and Rose have basically given up on working together on your mother’s directive, and she’s worried that you won’t come up with the hidden safe-deposit-box key before the deadline.”

“Ah,” Emily interrupted with a wry smile. “Now I see what’s going on. Ivy sent you over here to talk some sense into me.”

“Ivy is very concerned,” he admitted. “In fact,” he said as he pushed the wrapped package across the table toward her, “she asked me to give this to you. Said it was something your mom wanted you to have when the time was right, and Ivy feels that time is now.”

Emily slowly reached out for the package with her brow furrowed, but she didn’t open it.

“I know very well myself how much it hurt your mother that you and Rose have been estranged for so long,” Father O’Brien continued. “I’ve also known both of you since you were little girls. There was a time when you were inseparable, when you loved each other very much. Your mother believed with all her heart that that kind of love never disappears, and I believe that, too. It can be compressed and overrun by negative feelings and horrible deeds, but it can’t be broken. I wonder if there isn’t some way you can
discover within yourself a spark of that love for your sister, enough to find a way to carry out your mother’s final wishes?”

“I’m doing the best I can, Father,” Emily said evenly. “I came here for the summer because of what my mother said she wanted us to do in that letter. I thought being here would be hard, that I would constantly be thinking about what happened between Rose and me. I was right about that, but there’ve been good things, too. I finally feel as if I’m back where I belong. I feel close to Mom here, too, even though she’s gone. But as for Rose … I’m not sure what I feel for her, Father. For a long time, it’s been anger and resentment and disgust all intertwined, and recently it’s been getting worse. I’m pretty sure I don’t love her anymore, and I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“If you still love her at all, you may not recognize it right now. But, I think you do, and that love is the key to forgiving her for what she did. I know it’s not an easy thing to do, but forgiveness is what will help you resolve all of those negative feelings you have. If there’s any hope of you two rebuilding your relationship as your mother hoped you would, you must forgive Rose first.”

“Rose has never taken responsibility for what she did to me,” Emily said. “For what she took from me. My life would have been so different if it hadn’t been for that one night. I don’t think I could ever forgive her unless she admits what she did and that her drinking was the reason it happened. And she needs to truly understand what I lost.”

A
FTER
F
ATHER
O’B
RIEN HAD GONE
, E
MILY SLOWLY OPENED THE
package he’d left her. It was a book of Shakespeare’s complete works, very much like the one her mother had kept on her nightstand as long as she could remember.

There was an old Polaroid wedged into the pages. It was a
yellow-edged image of her and Rose from years ago, taken during a visit to the marble museum in Proctor. They were standing together, in front of a block of white marble, making funny faces. She vaguely remembered posing for that photo while her mother had begged her and Rose to smile nicely instead of crossing their eyes and letting their tongues hang out like drooling monsters.

Emily looked at the page bookmarked by the photo. A passage from
The Merchant of Venice
was highlighted in yellow.

She gazed again at the photo, taking care not to let her tears moisten the image. When she turned it over, her mother’s cursive writing jumped out at her.

2000

A
LMOST FOUR YEARS AFTER SHE HAD WATCHED HER SISTER
leave home, Emily stood beside the Christmas tree in her mother’s house staring out the front window. She was nervous and excited, so much so that the sound of Ivy humming in the kitchen and the feeling of Andy’s arm around her shoulders did little to help.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my sister,” she told him.

Andy laughed and squeezed her closer. “You’ve said that at least a hundred times this past week.”

“I know. I’m just anxious to see her.”

Rose had been living in New York since that terrible day when she’d packed her bags and left. During her sporadic calls home, their mother had always gotten on the line first, and when she’d been satisfied that Rose was alive and well, she’d handed the phone to Emily. Her older sister tended to monopolize the conversations, chattering away about Linx or her latest audition. To Emily, though, it sounded as if Rose’s life in New York was a little too perfect.

Once the letters had started to come, Emily’s suspicion had been confirmed. There were those addressed to their mother, which sounded like written versions of Rose’s happy phone calls. Then, there were those addressed only to Emily. They were written in stream-of-consciousness fashion, some over several days with
various dates scrawled across the pages to indicate the corresponding day’s passages. Those letters revealed just how miserable Rose really was.

Her relationship with Linx had started to deteriorate about a year after they’d arrived in New York. She’d recently ended things completely. Despite the nasty breakup, she still had a job working for Linx’s uncle at the restaurant. As a hostess and now the new bartender, Rose learned that her good looks were so helpful at bringing in business that his uncle considered her too valuable to fire. He’d told her as much himself, right before he’d grabbed her ass and offered her a chance to make a little extra money on the side.

Without Linx to foot some of the bills, money was tight. Rose had moved into a cramped studio in an old building. It was a fourth-floor walk-up and not much bigger than a closet, but it was better than nothing. She spent what little free time she had trying to break into acting, but after dozens of auditions for parts in plays and commercials, Rose had yet to land an acting gig.

It was so upsetting for Emily to read her sister’s letters. Of course, their mother would have been frantic with worry had she read about the true state of Rose’s life, but neither she nor Emily could force Rose to come home. Emily was careful to keep her own letters from Rose hidden from their mother, all the while being thankful every time she received a new one. She sent prompt replies pleading for Rose to come home, get her GED, and make a fresh start, but her sister was stubborn and proud. Rose wasn’t at all ready to admit that she’d made a huge mistake by running off. The letters just kept coming, and Emily did the only thing she could by continuing to offer advice and support.