The House of Roses Read online

  “All right, one cup. From where?” Rita asked.

  “There's a coffee cart on the corner. It's the best. If you fly, I'll buy,” Caitlin offered.

  “Pardon?” Rita asked.

  “It's just an expression. If you go, I'll pay,” Caitlin explained, reaching for her purse.

  “Oh, all right. You don't let them leave with my grandchildren while I'm gone, you hear me?” Rita demanded.

  “I'll block the door with this huge butt if I have to,” Caitlin said with a chuckle.

  “Well for God's sake, girl, don't hurt anyone.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Could you just go get the coffee already?” Caitlin nearly begged.

  “All right,” Rita said, disappearing into the hall.

  Caitlin sat on the edge of the bed, grateful for a moment to be alone with her thoughts. She thought of calling Colin, just to ask him if he'd see her. She knew she had to tell him, and it wouldn't be wise to wait long. Thoughts of him brought the familiar pain, and she wondered if she'd ever get over him. She didn't think so, but she had to try. For a moment she thought of her father, of his brave battle with cancer, and his last hours, while death stood patiently waiting. She remembered the moments after he'd passed and how she'd held his hand for an hour until hospice arrived to take his body away. Once they had, she'd sat in the dark, wondering if she'd ever see the sun again. Her world had changed, emptied, as the one man she worshiped had died. Caitlin had been a “daddy's girl” in every sense of the words. He'd been so proud of everything she'd done, and she knew how delighted he would have been by his grandchildren. Cancer had robbed her of her father nearly ten years ago. She had adored him, and no matter how many years passed, she still missed him. It had never been the same, but eventually, it had been okay. She wondered if that's how it would be with Colin. Life would never be the same without him, but eventually, maybe it would be okay.

  Caitlin shuffled to the window and looked at the cloudless sky.

  “Hey, Daddy,” she whispered, and ten years later, the tears still came. “I wish you were here. I wish you could see them, Daddy, and I wish they could know you, and you could help guide them. I screwed up. I love Colin so much, and I was so damned stubborn I let him go. I stood there like an idiot and watched him walk away. So much for being a wordsmith, huh, Dad? All those words you taught me, all those big words we looked up in the dictionary, and dammit, I couldn't find one, Daddy, not even one to make him stay.”

  As tears slid down Caitlin's face, she looked toward the street. She saw Rita, with the old trench coat pulled around her, trying to protect herself from the autumn chill. Caitlin watched her mother disappear around the corner, and began to turn away from the window. If she'd turned just a moment sooner, she wouldn't have seen him.

  “Colin,” she croaked, the name caught in her dry throat. She watched as he turned, and for a moment she wondered if he might look up, if he might see her. Caitlin stepped aside, behind the blinds, and like a Peeping Tom, she peered down at the man she loved. But he didn't look up. He seemed to be watching someone coming toward him, and moments later she saw a young woman, holding the hand of a little girl. Colin gently put his arm around the woman, and offered his hand to the little girl. It was a touching sight, and if Caitlin didn't feel as if she were dying, she might have smiled. He had met someone new, and he'd let her into his life. It was something he had never shared with Caitlin. He discussed his work with her, the mechanics of it, but he never told her what was in his heart. She wanted to know how it felt to do what he did. He wondered if he told this woman those secrets. Caitlin turned away, unable to watch a moment longer. She sat on the edge of the bed, dropped her head into her hands, and wept silently for the love she had lost.

  Seven

  Ella Simons stood in the back room of Hollings House and examined her magnificent creation. The arrangement was, perhaps, the most stunning she had ever made. Beautiful white roses created a backdrop for the hints of pink daisies and blue forget-me-nots. Baby's breath and greenery were inserted perfectly, and the card simply read, To Caitlin, with love from your mother.

  The corners of her mouth turned into a sad smile as she gently caressed the flowers. Her nephew Noonie had left an hour before, promising to return to deliver her work of art, but Ella had shooed him away.

  “It's a nice morning for a drive,” she had said. “I'll take this one myself.”

  True to her promise, Ella wrapped the bouquet carefully in blue, pink and white tissue, and set it in a box to her right. She tucked bubble wrap around the vase to make sure it wouldn't move inside the box.

  Promptly at noon, she walked to the front of the store, locked the door, and flipped a sign that from the outside read, Closed, please come again. She returned to the back of the store, picked up the box, and exited through a side door. She popped the rear hatch on her Honda SUV and gently set the box inside, then returned to her bench for her purse, locked the side door as she had the front, and headed toward the hospital.

  The roadways were laden with travelers enjoying the beautiful autumn Sunday. She glanced at the passenger seat from time to time, her eyes darting to the directions her nephew had printed from the Internet. Ella didn't understand the computer, and had no desire to learn. But, if she needed something, she knew who to ask. She arrived at the hospital and found a place to park with minimal distress, which surprised even her. Her nephew had warned her it might take longer to find a parking spot than it did to drive the entire trip from the shop in New Hope, Pennsylvania, to the hospital in Manhattan. As was her nature, Ella had shooed him off with her hand.

  “Don't be ridiculous, boy,” she'd said to her nephew, forgetting he had turned forty the previous month. “I appreciate your offer to take them, Noonie, but I adore Rita and Caitlin, so you know how important this is to me,” Ella said sternly.

  “Of course I do, Aunt Ella, and please call me Nathan,” he complained.

  “You'll always be my Noonie,” Ella said, and Nathan rolled his eyes.

  She wondered what he would think now, seeing her expertly parallel park her SUV in the parking spot it had taken less than three minutes to find.

  Ella proudly carried the flowers through the lobby, to the information desk.

  “May I help you?” an ancient volunteer asked.

  “Could you please see that these get to Caitlin Goodrich?” Ella asked, and the volunteer smiled and admired the arrangement through very thick glasses.

  “They're lovely,” the volunteer said appreciatively.

  “So is Caitlin,” Ella replied. She walked away with a brief wave, her eyes welling as she thought of Caitlin and her babies getting acquainted somewhere deep within the walls of the enormous hospital. She hid her tears behind dark glasses and pulled the SUV into traffic once more.

  It only took six blocks for Ella to realize she was lost. She passed one one-way street after another, and became more and more confused as she drove. She looked away from the road for a mere moment, but the moment was too long. The driver of the truck never saw her, and Ella never saw him. She saw nothing, and only briefly heard the sound of the impact of the two vehicles, a horrifying medley of breaking glass and twisting metal, before everything went black.

  Eight

  Colin couldn't remember the last time he had been in a McDonalds, but it seemed like the right place. Mia could play on the indoor playground equipment, and he could provide the shoulder he knew her mother desperately needed. They could discuss things Mia didn't need to know, things she wouldn't understand, but would have to try to soon enough.

  “Can I play, Mama?” Mia asked. Rosario looked out the window. Only then did Mia turn to look at Colin with her huge cocoa eyes. “Doctor Colin, is Mama okay?”

  “She's okay, sweetie, and why don't you call me Colin today.”

  “Aren't you a doctor today?” the child asked inquisitively.

  “I'm always a doctor, but right now I'm a friend, and that's more important. And yes, Mia, you can go play,” he sa
id, and Mia hugged him unexpectedly. Equally as unexpected was the fervor with which he returned the child's embrace. She kissed his cheek, and suddenly he had to fight back tears.

  Only then did Rosario turn. “She really loves you, Doctor Thomas,” Rosario said.

  Colin looked at her, and immediately understood why she had kept her face turned away. It was streaked with tears, and they continued to fall as she looked at him. “What am I going to do?” she asked desperately.

  “I don't know,” Colin whispered, and he thought he heard Rosario sigh. “I'm sorry, Rosario, let me try that again.”

  “It's okay, Doctor. I suppose I'd say the same thing. How could you know?”

  “Rosario, please call me Colin. I don't want to be Mia's doctor today, or yours. I'd like to be your friend. I don't know what I can do to help, but I know I can be your friend, and I think you need one right now, maybe even more than you need a doctor.”

  “There's nothing more the doctors can do for me,” Rosario admitted sadly.

  “I know. I'm sorry. I'd change that if I could. I'd do that for you, Rosario, for Mia. I wish I could save your life, I hope you know that. I know Doctor Burns. I know he's done everything he could. He's a good man. He doesn't want to lose you. None of us do.”

  “I know. I just need to figure this out. It's not so much that I'm dying. That part is kind of okay, as weird as that sounds. I can't live in this body much longer. I know I can't. I knew what the doctor was going to say. It was just so damned hard to hear it. It's not that I'm going to die. It's that I'm leaving Mia,” Rosario said, turning away again to hide her tears.

  “I know it's hard, but let's try to look at this reasonably,” Colin said, almost groaning. It was ridiculous to try to apply reason to such a horrific situation. “Do you have any family?” he asked.

  “No. There was only my husband. He died.........of AIDS,” Rosario admitted, looking away. “I met Eduardo in college in Jacksonville, Florida. We were both nursing students.”

  “Were you born in Florida, Rosario?” Colin asked. He needed to know as much as he could about her life to determine how to help her.

  “No. I was born in Puerto Rico. My parents moved to this country when I was a teenager. I remember how proud Papa was the day we became citizens. He wanted a better life for us; it was all he ever wanted. I was an only child. My parents are both gone. After that, it was only me, Eduardo, and Mia. It was only the three of us. Then there were two. Soon there will be just one.........”

  Colin felt an ache deep within him. He couldn't imagine what the woman sitting across from him was feeling.

  “How long ago did your husband pass away?” Colin asked.

  “Mia wasn't even a year old. It's been over five years. We were both nurses then, Colin. We worked at the same hospital, at New York-Presbyterian. Eduardo contracted HIV from a patient. Before we knew what had happened to him, I had it, too. I was already pregnant with Mia. I couldn't give up my baby.”

  “I understand, Rosario,” Colin said. He turned, and Mia waved at him from the playground. He waved back. “I understand,” he repeated, this time in a whisper.

  Colin turned back to look at the child's mother. He knew something was happening. Colin knew the rule. “Don't get involved in your patients' lives.” Maybe the rule was wrong. “Don't have favorites.” How could he help it? Colin wondered, as he looked back at Mia. She smiled at him, and his heart melted. He couldn't help it. Mia was special. She was the most considerate, unselfish and thoughtful child he had ever met. He had feelings for this child, feelings he couldn't explain, feelings he didn't have for his other patients. He prided himself on treating everyone equally. He'd already crossed the line.

  Colin remained lost in thought for several more seconds before realizing that Rosario was speaking and he wasn't listening.

  “I'm sorry, Rosario. You were saying?” he asked, looking sheepish.

  “I was saying that I've really cut myself off from life since I left nursing. I think it's been harder for me because I saw the changes in my body, and having a medical background, I knew what they meant.”

  “You never mentioned you'd been a nurse,” Colin said. “How come?”

  “I guess I didn't want you to think I knew more than you did.”

  “Do you?” Colin asked playfully, grateful for anything to break the tension.

  “I don't know. How much do you know?”

  “I don't feel like I know much today,” he admitted.

  “Then we're even,” Rosario said with a smile. For a moment the tension was gone.

  “When did you leave nursing?” Colin asked.

  “Six months before Eduardo died. After he was gone, I never went back.”

  “I'm sorry, Rosario. Do you miss it?”

  “I do. I always thought I would go back. Now I wish I had.”

  “That's the thing about wishes,” Colin said abstractly, wishing he could change the subject. He was desperate to help, but Rosario wasn't making it easy. He had another idea. “Do you have a church, Rosario?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Is there anyone there who could help you?”

  “I've kept everyone at a distance. I was ashamed, although with my background I shouldn't have been. It happens. It happened to us. I have two good friends. One lost her husband on 9/11 and is a widow with five children. She moved back to Texas to live with her parents. The other lives in Jacksonville. She's divorced with two small children, and is having a hard time financially. I just don't know where to turn. To be honest with you, as much as I love both of these women, I am not sure either is right for Mia. She's special.”

  Colin agreed, but didn't say so. “Any other friends, Rosario? Is there anyone you think might be able to give Mia what she needs?” he asked.

  “Just one person.”

  “Have to talked to this person?”

  “I'm talking to him now.”

  Colin wasn't sure how to respond. He simply stared at the woman across from him, but she had turned back to the window. She's asking me to raise Mia. Colin had suspected the question was coming, but he still felt as though he couldn't breathe. He had no idea how to answer. At a loss, he instead turned to more questions.

  “What happened to your parents?” he asked, and Rosario looked back at him.

  “They were coming to see me after Mia was born. It's funny, they were so afraid to fly........,” Rosario trailed off, sadly.

  “Plane crash?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “No, that's the odd part,” Rosario said, as Colin listened quietly. He suspected she was lost in a memory, and he said nothing, allowing her the moment in her mind. The moment passed, and Rosario looked back at him.

  “They were killed in a car accident in Puerto Rico, on their way to the airport. They moved back after I graduated from college. I moved to New York with Eduardo in 1999. The following year, they moved back home. The trip to New York was their wedding gift to me. I wanted to see them. I wanted them to meet my husband, and by then I knew he didn't have much time. It was just after Mia was born.”

  “I'm sorry,” Colin said softly.

  “Me, too,” Rosario said. “But I'm not sorry they went together. They would have wanted it that way,” she said, with a weak smile. “They really loved each other.”

  “My parents went together,” Colin whispered.

  “I'm sorry,” Rosario said.

  “What?” he said, unaware he'd spoken the words out loud.

  “About your parents.”

  “Oh, I didn't realize I'd said that out loud.”

  “I'm glad you did. What happened?” she asked.

  “It was a house fire. Mom ran back in for her dog. Dad went back for her. The dog was hiding under their car in the driveway.”

  “Oh, Colin, I'm so sorry.”

  “Thank you. God damned dog. I always hated that dog.”

  “So I take it you didn't adopt the dog,” Rosario said with a smile that seemed almost genuine.

>   “No, my aunt did. She's my mom's sister, the only family I have left. I don't have time for a dog,” he replied, and something dark flashed across Rosario's face.

  “I have no family now,” Rosario said.

  “You have Mia,” Colin said, without thinking.

  “Mia will have no family,” Rosario said.

  “We'll figure something out,” Colin offered, and Rosario responded with the weakest of smiles. It didn't reach her eyes. The only thing he saw there was pain, and grief, and terror. He had no idea how, but he knew he had to help her. He was going to help her. Somehow he would find a family for Mia, and he needed to do it soon.

  Nine

  Rita Hollings stepped into her daughter's hospital room with two steaming cups of coffee. The babies slept peacefully in their tiny beds, as rays of sunshine danced off their faces. Caitlin sat quietly, her fingers tapping the keypad of her laptop.

  “Where did that come from?” Rita asked.

  “It was in my suitcase,” Caitlin said, without looking up at her mother.

  “You didn't bring shoes, but you brought that?” Rita asked, setting the coffee cups on the table.

  “This is important.”

  “So are shoes.”

  “Mom, please,” Caitlin said, looking up from the laptop.

  “Do you have any idea how much this coffee was?” Rita asked incredulously.

  “Yes. I used to get it almost every day.”

  “No wonder you don't have shoes.”

  “I have shoes. I just didn't pack them.”

  “What are you working on?” Rita asked, sipping the coffee, which was incredibly good, and almost worth the nearly five dollars she'd paid for it, although she didn't say so.

  “I was looking over my book, and writing...........” Caitlin trailed off, her words so soft Rita couldn't hear them.

  “What?” Rita asked.

  “I am writing a letter to Colin.”

  “Oh.”