The Mill River Redemption (46 page)

Rose nodded. “I don’t think he ever envisioned himself leaving New York, but he still hasn’t found a permanent position, and he knows it’s important to me to be here while I get better. Mom’s offering him a job is just another reason for us to stay, for now at least.”

“True,” Emily said. “Besides, Mom can’t work forever, even if she thinks she can. She’ll need someone to take over the brokerage at some point. It’d be nice if it could stay in the family.”

Emily exited the highway onto the smaller road that led into Mill River. Although the fall foliage wouldn’t reach its peak color for another few weeks, the trees were already showing brilliant patches of orange, red, and gold. The road passed through the covered bridge over the river for which the town was named. When they reached the beginning of Main Street, they could see the McAllister mansion high on a hill in the distance.

“I’ve been working with Ruth and Fitz up there,” Emily said, looking up at the white marble home. “It is just the most gorgeous
house. They’re doing some remodeling and updating to convert it to a bed-and-breakfast. If you want, after you’re settled back at home, I’ll take you up to see it.”

“I’d love that,” Rose said. “I’ve always wondered what it was like inside.”

They were at the far end of Main Street now, passing by a variety of small, older houses and trailer homes. Emily startled as Rose suddenly pointed out the window.

“Is that Daisy Delaine?”

Emily squinted to see where her sister was looking. Up ahead, a short, stout woman was standing on the front porch of one of the trailer homes. The yard surrounding the porch was filled with ceramic animals, a large birdbath, and all manner of whirligigs. Daisy’s back was turned to the road, but she was unmistakable as she hoisted a watering can above a large potted mum.

“Yes,” Emily said as she slowed the car. “Why?”

“I need to talk to her,” Rose said. “Could you pull over? I know everyone’s expecting us, but it won’t take me too long, and I need to do it.”

“Okay.” Emily eased the Subaru over to the side of the road and parked along the curb. They were just a few houses past Daisy’s, and she watched in the rearview mirror as her sister walked back to the little woman watering her flowers. Daisy’s mouth fell open as Rose spoke to her. After a moment, they went together inside the mobile home.

Gus stepped through the space between the front seats to press his wet nose to her cheek. Emily smiled and reached up to cup her hand around his soft muzzle.

“We’re just stopping for a minute, Gussie-pup,” she told him.

The weird sense of uncertainty was still with her as she gently pressed her cheek against the dog’s velvety face. Rose’s behavior was surprising, and she wondered whether it was a shallow, short-term
phenomenon or the beginnings of something genuine and permanent. More importantly, if Rose really had changed, what kind of sister would she be? And, what kind of sister was she herself willing to be in return?

R
OSE PUSHED HER SUNGLASSES BACK OVER HER FOREHEAD AND
looked around at the inside of Daisy’s small trailer. The furnishings in the living room, where they stood, weren’t fancy, but the place was neatly kept.

“Would … would you like to sit down, Miss Rose?” Daisy asked. “And would you like something to drink? I’ve got some tasty mint tea in the fridge.” Daisy bustled into the kitchen and removed a large mug from a cupboard.

“Oh, nothing to drink, thank you,” Rose said. “It’s very nice of you to offer, but I can only stay a few minutes.”

Daisy nodded, but she remained in the tiny kitchen, clutching the mug and staring at her with round, curious eyes. Rose noticed that Daisy’s little gray dog, who was sitting quietly on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, was looking at her with much the same expression. Rose followed the woman into the kitchen, pulled out one of the chairs, and sat down.

“Daisy … I owe you an apology … more than one, actually. I was wrong about so many things. I’m not even sure how to begin.” Rose felt her cheeks start to burn, and she took a deep breath before she continued. “The way I treated you at my mother’s wake was so wrong. It was incredibly inappropriate and cruel.”

“Oh, Miss Rose—” Daisy began, but Rose raised her hand to stop her from speaking.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but please, please let me finish everything I need to say,” Rose interrupted. Daisy blinked and nodded. “I have no idea what’s in your potions, but I’ve been told that
people in town have bought them for years. I don’t think people would spend money on something that wasn’t worth it, so there must be something about them, something special, that I just didn’t understand. I had no right to say anything bad about your potions.

“And the last thing,” Rose said, fighting to keep her voice steady, “the most important thing, is the simple fact that without you, I would have lost the most precious person in my life. You saved my son, Daisy. If you had given up on apologizing to me for something that was purely an accident, you and Claudia wouldn’t have found Alex when you did, and he probably wouldn’t have survived his injuries. I owe you so much … so much that I’ll never be able to repay you for what you did.” Rose clutched her hands together between her knees as tears rolled down her cheeks into her lap.

Daisy was still listening quietly, her expressions alternating between childlike wonder and soft sympathy. When Rose finished speaking, she pulled out the chair beside her and sat down.

“Miss Rose,” Daisy said after a moment, “you might not know this, but I didn’t know who my mother was—not the mother who adopted me, but the one who gave birth to me—until the night she died. I got to know her as a person for about a year before that, though, and I still feel so lucky that I had that little bit of time with her. I don’t have any children, but I know how special it was for me to be able to spend time with my mother.

“I didn’t do anything special for Alex, Miss Rose. I guess it was by chance that I ended up being there to find him. I’m just happy he’s all right, and that you’ll get lots more time with your little boy. You don’t owe me anything, though.”

Rose looked into Daisy’s kind, round face, but she couldn’t speak.

“About the ashes,” Daisy said, “I won’t lie and say you didn’t
hurt my feelings, Miss Rose. I know I’m not like most people, and sometimes people get frustrated with me. They even yell at me sometimes. But, I have feelings just like you. When I feel upset about how somebody treats me, I remember what my mother told me. She always said that nobody’s perfect. She also said I should always try to be kind and forgiving, and see the best in people, even when they can’t see it in themselves. Since she died, I’ve thought a lot about what she taught me and I know in my heart that she was right.” Daisy reached out a pudgy hand and patted her knee. “Everything’s okay between us, Miss Rose. Let’s just start fresh from now on.”

“Thank you,” Rose choked. “Thank you.” She reached out to hug Daisy, and afterward, it took her a moment to compose herself enough to speak clearly. “My sister’s waiting for me in the car,” she finally managed to say. “And my mom is expecting us back at her house.”

Daisy smiled. “I’ll walk outside with you. I need to finish tending my mums. Just a few more days, and they’ll be ready for harvest!” The woman opened her front door and ushered her onto the porch. “Chrysanthemum tea is good for lots of things, you know. It makes your skin glow, and it’s good to help you get over a bad cold. In fact,” she said, as her voice dropped to a whisper, “mum juice is one of the ingredients in my special Sick-Away Potion. But don’t tell anybody, okay? It’s a secret.”

“Okay,” Rose said. “Have a good day, Daisy.”

“You too, Miss Rose.” Daisy grinned at her and picked up the watering can.

Back in the car, Rose turned to Emily. “You wouldn’t have any Kleenex in here, would you?”

“No, but there’s an emergency TP roll in the glove box. Help yourself.”

Rose opened the glove compartment, found a half-flattened
roll of toilet paper, and pulled off enough to blow her nose. “Mom’s going to worry if she sees me in such a mess.”

Emily snorted. “A little worry on her part’s nothing compared to what she made us go through over the summer.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve had a lot of time at rehab to think about that. Part of me still can’t believe she did it, but I do think her intentions were good. Anyway, I’m ready to put it behind me and move on.”

“I finally told Mom last week that I forgave her,” Emily admitted, “but I reserved the right to be pissed about what she did for a good bit longer.” Her sister shot her a curious look and glanced back toward Daisy’s trailer. “It’s really not any of my business, but I’d love to know what went on in there.”

“I’m trying to make amends for what I’ve done,” Rose said. “It’s part of the program, but I’d do it even if it weren’t. Daisy is one of many people I’ve hurt.”

“Oh,” Emily said. Rose finished wiping her nose and dabbing her eyes. As she lowered her sunglasses back into place, she glanced over at her sister. Emily’s hands gripped the steering wheel close together at the very top, and her gaze was fixed straight ahead above them.

“While we’re talking about forgiveness, I’ve been wondering whether you have an answer to my question,” Rose said softly. “The one I asked you in the hospital, right before Sheldon got there.”

Her sister remained silent, methodically downshifting as they neared a stop sign. Before they entered the intersection, Rose reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand atop the stick shift. She didn’t say anything to Emily. She merely squeezed the hand under her own, letting the physical connection convey what words of any kind could not.

The old Impreza idled at the stop sign. Emily’s eyes flicked
over toward her before they resumed their gaze straight ahead and filled with tears. Several more moments passed before her sister spoke.

“I’m not at all sure that I can,” Emily said. She shifted her hand to squeeze Rose’s in return. “I can’t promise anything. A lot will depend on you, and what you do from here on. But, if you’re serious about changing your life, if you really make a genuine effort to recover and rebuild what we used to have, then … I guess I’m willing to try.”

“T
HEY SHOULD BE HERE ANY MINUTE
,” J
OSIE SAID TO
F
ATHER
O’Brien as she slid a covered dish of potato salad into the refrigerator. The elderly priest was sitting at her kitchen table with a half-empty cup of coffee before him. “They should just have time to change before we head over to the cemetery. I hope Sheldon’s class lets out on time.” She looked over at Father O’Brien as she washed her hands and dried them on a kitchen towel. He was holding up the teaspoon she’d given him with the coffee, moving it slightly as he stared at it.

“Father? Is everything all right? Don’t tell me the dishwasher missed something on that spoon.”

“No, no, it’s fine. The spoon is perfectly clean. I was just admiring how it catches the sunlight so beautifully.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I’d have been mortified if it was dirty,” she said with a little chuckle. “In fact, my silverware is so old that I’m surprised it still shines at all.”

“Old things may lose their good looks, but they can still be useful a lot longer than you expect them to,” he said.

“That’s true,” Josie said. “And every once in a while, you come across a priceless antique that’s still functional.” She smiled fondly at the elderly priest.

He smiled in return and slowly set the spoon on the table. She watched as he patted the handle of it before picking up his cup.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t seen or heard Alex in a while. “Alex, what are you up to?” she called. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, Grandma,” he answered from the living room.

“Why are you so quiet?” She peered out of the kitchen to check on him. Alex was sitting on the love seat dressed in a smart navy suit. His blond hair was slightly shorter on one side, but the difference was hardly noticeable anymore. He held a framed photograph in his hands.

“I was just looking at this,” he said as he came into the kitchen to show her. It was the photo of her and Tony and the girls from the summer barbeque. “Mom has the same smile as Grandpa did.”

“Yes, she does,” Josie agreed as she looked at the picture. “I think that one might be my favorite, but I’m grateful to have all three. I don’t know that I could go through with a memorial service for your grandfather if I hadn’t been able to get those photos.”

“Even if you hadn’t found the pictures or kept his ashes all this time, he’d still be with you,” Father O’Brien said gently.

“You’re right, Father. Of course you’re right,” Josie said. Her gaze shifted to the fireplace in the living room, and to the small metal box sitting on the mantel, but she was quickly distracted by the sound of car doors slamming out front.

She hurried to the front window and looked outside. Rose, Emily, and Gus were already on the sidewalk, watching as Ivy crossed the street to join them.

“Mom!” Alex yelled. He opened the front door and ran straight for his mother, and Rose knelt down to fold him into her arms. Emily and Ivy waited while they embraced.

Josie closed her eyes. “Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,”
she whispered to herself.
If only things work themselves out from here on
.

Father O’Brien seemed to read her mind. “It’s still a little odd, seeing Rose and Emily together like this,” he said quietly over her shoulder. “Maybe there’s hope.”

“Hope is a wonderful thing,” Josie said. She touched the locket around her neck and smiled.

On the surface, writing a book would seem to be a solitary pursuit, but that could not be further from the truth. So many people were gracious enough to help me with this novel in various ways.

First, I’d like to thank those individuals who kindly took time out of their busy schedules to answer my many queries for technical information. These people include Carl Chilstrom, research librarian at the Gemological Institute of America, who taught me about diamond prices during the 1970s and 1980s; Thomas Scott, unit secretary at Fletcher Allen PICU, for explaining the PICU setup and visitation policy; Andrew Costello, city attorney for Rutland, Vermont, who answered my questions about the process of municipal acquisition of real property; Dr. Steven Shapiro, chief medical examiner for the state of Vermont, for information about regional medical examiners and procedures used to file death certificates in that state; Alan Shelvey, city engineer and public works commissioner in Rutland, Vermont, for historical information about the municipal landfill and the city hall building; Jeff Wennberg, former mayor of the city of Rutland, for a wealth of information on the history, politics, environmental issues, and citizenry of the city and the surrounding county; Bonnie Hawley, owner of Hawley’s Florist, for permission to mention her floral business in this book; Lucy Notte and Lisa Polcaro, for their detailed descriptions of Route 103 and other roadways in the area in which this
story is set; Dr. Viviane Tabar, neurosurgeon with the Brain Tumor Center at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York City, for information on the diagnosis and treatment of pediatric epidural hematomas; and Anita Baiker-Buckholz, wonderful friend and Realtor extraordinaire, for her insightful and entertaining stories of properties bought and sold.