The Girls on Rose Hill Read online

  I probably would've stayed in my bubble of denial had it not been for Kitty. Rose and Kitty came down to D.C. for Veronica's Holy Communion party. Brendan was in a corner laughing with Nancy Shanley, my Bunco friend, when Kitty took me aside.

  "Now that your young lady is in school, you could surely get a job," Kitty stated rather than asked.

  "I'm really busy with the kids, Gran. Besides Brendan makes plenty of money. It really wouldn't be worth it for me to work part time."

  She looked over at Brendan. "Do what you want, but if it was me, I'd get something of my own. Just in case."

  My canny grandmother had seen in a few moments what I had blinded myself to for a decade. I didn't know why that conversation made such an impact on me, but after that the blinders were off. I kept track of Brendan's comings and goings, scoured through his credit card bills, even followed him to a hotel in the company of a petite young blonde. It was so easy. He didn't even attempt to hide it from me. Soon after that, I got a job at the SEC. Our sex life together eventually petered out, and when the kids were in high school, I moved Brendan into the guest room.

  I turned from the window and returned to my seat by the bed. My mother's breathing in the last few days had turned ragged. Sister Elizabeth told me that this was to be expected; as they got closer to the end, many developed what the nurses called the death rattle. With a shudder, I read my book. About an hour later, Brendan returned with two coffees and a newspaper.

  "Before you ask, we have another two hours until Paul gets here," I growled without even looking up from my book.

  "Who's asking? You want the main section or metro?" Brendan handed me the coffee.

  "The style section. I can't deal with the real world just yet."

  "Whatever you say, boss." He tossed me the paper and then settled into the chair closest to the window. For the next two hours, we wordlessly passed sections of the paper back and forth as Rose slept.

  Later, Lisa bustled into the room with an enormous bouquet of cheap carnations. "Brendan, I didn't expect to see you here." Lisa panted slightly as she placed the flowers on the side table.

  "Brendan came up for a few days. Lisa, how did you know that carnations are my mother's favorite flower?" I asked sweetly. Rose detested carnations.

  "I think she mentioned it once."

  "Well, they are beautiful," Brendan said in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Brendan didn't know much about my inner life, but even he knew how much I couldn't stand Lisa.

  "How was the wedding?" I asked.

  "Well, your uncle had too good a time, so he's back at the house trying to recover," Lisa said in full martyr mode.

  Brendan stood up. "We haven't eaten, so if you don't mind, Lisa, we'll be off."

  I had wanted to wait until my mother woke up again, but the thought of being trapped in a room with Brendan, Lisa and those obnoxious carnations was not appealing. "Sure. Let's go."

  "Where to now?" Brendan asked when we drove out of the parking lot.

  "Home."

  "Sorry, El, but I'm not up for going back to that house. Why don't we go to the place on the water you took me to last time?"

  "Prime?"

  "Yeah, let's go there."

  "It's only four. Isn't it a little early for steak?"

  "Sweetheart, it's never too early for steak."

  Suddenly, I was starving. I hadn't eaten much more than the occasional sandwich during the last few weeks. The restaurant wasn't open yet for dinner. Brendan slipped the hostess a twenty. She led us to an outdoor patio and brought us two strong martinis. I didn't have the energy or the interest to respond to Brendan's banalities so after a while he stopped talking, and we sat there quietly and drank our martinis while the boats sailed by.

  By the second martini, the restaurant opened and the waiter bought us two T-Bones, which we ate in silence, although the silence was now companionable rather than strained. By dessert and my third martini, I was feeling a bit "merry" as my grandmother would say, and was ready to talk to Brendan. Grateful for a now appreciative audience, Brendan regaled me with his latest office coup, one of his many attempts to displace his law firm's current managing partner.

  We chatted about country club gossip and our sons' complicated love lives during martini number four. I laughed at Brendan's flirty banter; he was a philandering asshole, but he could be very funny, especially after a few drinks. It was still light out when I swayed through the restaurant parking lot to my car. Brendan, who was sober, at least compared to me, drove us home.

  He helped me out of the car and up the steep front steps.

  "Good evening, Ellen," Barbara Conroy trilled from her front porch.

  "Hi, Barbara," I slurred. Brendan poured me in the front door. I stumbled into the hallway and knocked over the brass umbrella stand. For some reason, Brendan found that very funny.

  He laughed. "I can't remember when I've seen you this lit." Brendan steered me toward the stairs.

  "I'm perfectly fine."

  "Of course you are, sweetheart, but you've had a long day. We both have. Why don't we go take a nap." Brendan practically pushed me up the stairs and into Kitty's room.

  "This isn't my room," I protested weakly, as Brendan slipped the linen shift from my shoulders. "I don't think this is a good idea." I moaned as his hands travelled down the front of my body and cupped my still firm breasts. He then gently pushed me onto Kitty's bed. The old bed creaked under our weight. His mouth expertly covered mine and despite the vow I had taken three years earlier not to be seduced by him again, I responded.

  Chapter 8

  Ellen

  I squinted at the mid-day sun. My head pounded and I groaned as I stumbled to the window and pulled the heavy brocade drapes closed. I crawled back into bed and slept for another hour, too shattered by my four martini evening to even wonder where Brendan was.

  The phone rang. I reached across the bed with my eyes closed.

  "Ellen?"

  "Yes," I croaked.

  "Ellen, where are you? It's after two, and I need to get back to the store."

  "Shit, Carol. I'm sorry. I overslept."

  "Overslept?"

  "Yeah, it's a long story," I said, my voice like gravel.

  "I'll call Lisa."

  I sat up. "No, give me a half hour."

  "Ellie, I can't. That stupid teenager will likely leave, if he hasn't left already and Danny's in Queens with a supplier. Look, she's asleep. She won't even notice I'm gone."

  "Okay, Carol, you go. I'll get there as soon as I can." I placed the phone in its cradle and then made my way to the bathroom. I stood in a stream of hot water but felt faint and finished the rest of my shower sprawled on the rough scarred porcelain of the ancient tub. I eventually climbed out of the tub and wrapped my aching body in a threadbare towel. I wiped the small mirror. Eyes, slightly bloodshot, cheeks raw from Brendan's stubble. Lovely.

  I walked into my childhood bedroom and threw on a pair of khakis and a white t-shirt and then rubbed a generous dab of my expensive face cream onto my broken skin.

  Three aspirin and two cups of coffee later, I was ready to leave for St. Francis. I searched for my car keys. They weren't on the hallway table where I usually keep them. My head throbbed as I searched the house. Reluctantly, I went back upstairs to the scene of the crime and cringed when I saw my green linen dress crumpled in the middle of the room, my sandals and bra beside it. My keys were on the bedside table, a torn piece of paper underneath them.

  E,

  Great night,

  B.

  I looked around the room—all trace of Brendan were gone. That bastard. He must've left for D.C. with no intention of coming back. I'd assumed he'd work out of the New York office for the next few days. How could I be so stupid to even be surprised?

  Without time to wallow in my regrets, I returned downstairs, grabbed my bag and a pair of sunglasses and walked out of the house. I swooned slightly as I walked down the front steps and had to grab the iron railing fo
r support. With no breeze, the air was hot, muggy and tinged with the stench of rotting seaweed. A wave of nausea hit me, but I fought it as I walked, slowly, to my car.

  "Hey, Ellen."

  Oh, no. Not another encounter with the beautiful Billy when I looked like I'd been dragged backwards through a hedge. I couldn't very well pretend I didn't hear him. With a smile that almost cracked my sore face, I managed to say hello.

  "Ellen, you okay?"

  "Yeah, I had a few too many drinks with my husband last night."

  "Your husband came up? I thought there was a German carmakers convention here on Rose Hill."

  I laughed, and then winced from the pain in my head.

  "Ellen, you sure you're okay to drive? I can give you a ride if you like."

  I'll bet you could, I thought. Oh man, one sexual experience in three years, and now I'd turned into a sex maniac, in my head anyway. I drove thoughts of a shirtless Billy from my mind and said, "That's very kind of you, but I'll need my car later."

  "Okay, whatever you say. See you around, and stay off the sauce," he scolded.

  "Don't worry. I think I've learned my lesson," I said as I sank into the hot leather seats of my much mocked car.

  Twenty minutes later, I walked, somewhat unsteadily, down the cool tile halls of St. Francis. Molly's voice boomed from my mother's room. Great, that's all I needed.

  "Here she is now, Rosie. I told you she'd be along soon."

  "Hi Mom. Hi Molly," I said, with a bright fake smile. "Sorry I'm late, but I had to see Brendan off."

  My mother's face fell. "He had to go back already?"

  "Yes, and he was so disappointed," I lied, "but they needed him back in D.C. His insider trading case is really heating up."

  "I'm sure he's indispensable," Molly said drily, her finely honed bullshit detector clearly going off.

  "I'm sure he'll call you soon, Mom."

  "Tell him not to worry about me," Rose said. "He should concentrate on his work."

  "Okay, Rose, time for your bath," a big blond nurse's aide announced as she entered the room. "Ladies, if you'll excuse us."

  "Sure," I said, "we'll just go outside for a few minutes."

  Molly and I walked out of the room and down to the courtyard. Once there, I collapsed onto one of the wooden benches.

  "Tough night last night?"

  "A little too much wine at dinner last night, that's all," I said, not a little defensively.

  "Well, Sarah's going out clubbing tonight with her friends. Perhaps you'd like to tag along?"

  "Very funny, Molly. Look, I had a little too much to drink last night, so sue me."

  "I don't care if you drink a gallon of vodka every night, so long as you're here during you assigned times and that woman is not left alone. I thought that's what we all agreed was best for Rose, for her not to be left alone."

  "Carol was here until two and I got here at 3:30. She was asleep when Carol left."

  "And when I got here she was awake and alone, staring out the window," Molly snapped.

  "For heaven's sake, give me a break. I took a leave of absence from work, my children are getting themselves ready to go back to college. I'm here day and night doing the best I can."

  "Showing up like something the cat dragged in is the best you can do?"

  I stood up and fought the nausea from the sudden movement. For a moment I stared at Molly, her thin lips set in a prim, disapproving line. She really was a self righteous bitch, one who would always find fault with me no matter what I did. All my weeks of placating her and playing by her rules had gotten me nowhere. Well, enough was enough. "Molly, I am tired of you and your attitude. We've got a few more weeks together at most and then we never have to see each other again so why don't you keep all your advice and opinions to yourself." I stormed out of the courtyard and walked to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.

  Fifteen minutes later, I returned to my mother's room. She was comfortably dozing. A few moments later, Molly walked into the room.

  I said blankly, "Molly, why don't you go home. I'll stay until Paul shows up for the night shift."

  Molly sat beside me. "I don't want to keep fighting with you. This is a time when family should stick together."

  "I don't want to fight with you either. I know I haven't been the best daughter, but maybe that's because she wasn't the best mother. I know that she's sweet and good, but she didn't give me the one thing I always wanted. A father. But, I suppose that's neither here nor there." I looked at Rose and continued, "I'm just trying to do the right thing by her now, and I can't do that if you point out my every shortcoming."

  "You're right. I'm sorry. This is just so hard," her voice broke. "I've spent my life protecting her, and I can't stop now."

  "I know, Molly. I know how much you love her."

  We sat there for a few moments and looked at my sleeping mother. Then Molly moved closer to me and said in a low voice, "Denis Lenihan was my husband's partner for close to ten years. He retired about five years ago. Last time I saw him was at my Bobby's wake. He and his wife live on Bluebell Lane in Levittown, although they talked about moving to Florida. That's all I know."

  I looked at Molly, stunned. My elusive father has lived fifteen miles away from Rose Hill all this time. "Thank you," I managed to say.

  Molly nodded.

  Chapter 9

  Rose

  The soft breeze moved the now familiar veil across my face. I bent to pull another weed. Mother Mary Ignatius discovered my green thumb and had assigned me to vegetable garden duty. I was grateful, given my rambunctious friend, Sister Elizabeth, had pulled latrine duty. A car door slammed in the distance. We didn't receive many mid-week visitors. I squinted but without my glasses couldn't see beyond the garden gate. I bent down again and attacked the hard ground with my hoe.

  Twenty minutes later my friend Elizabeth walked towards me. "You're wanted in Mother's office." The fact that she spoke at all worried me; Wednesdays were our day of silence.

  "What's going on, Lizzie?"

  "I don't know. She said to come right away."

  I returned my gardening basket to the shed and after I washed my hands in the scullery sink hurried to Mother's office.

  "Sister Rose, please come in," Mother said kindly.

  "Mama?"

  Kitty and Paul sat on the chairs next to Mother's mahogany desk.

  Mother Mary Ignatius led me to an empty chair. "Your mother has some very sad news."

  I looked at Kitty. She'd refused to even say good-bye to me when I left, and it was Auntie Margaret and Uncle John who drove me the six hours to Our Lady of Angels convent.

  "It's Peter. He's had a stroke."

  "Is he..."

  "No, he's not dead," Kitty said matter-of-factly. "He collapsed last week and was released from the hospital two days ago. Auntie Margaret is staying with him now. He's paralyzed, and can barely speak. The doctors say his mind hasn't been affected, more's the shame for him. There's no hope of recovery."

  "I'm sorry, Mama," I said, not feeling the least bit sorry. "But why are you here?"

  She looked over at Mother Mary Ignatius, who said, "Your family needs you, Sister."

  My stomach clenched. With effort, I choked out, "But, I'm a nun now. I live here."

  "You're a postulant, Sister. You know you haven't taken your final vows."

  "But I'm a good nun, Mother. I belong here."

  "You have done wonderfully these past few months, my child. But, sometimes God has other plans for us. Your place is with your family."

  I turned to my mother. "Why do you need me? What do you want me to do about all this?"

  Kitty seemed surprised by my truculence. She reached for my hand but I snatched it away. "I have two young children, a business and an invalid husband. My sisters have their own families and their own responsibilities. Rosie, love, I have no one but you."

  "No, I won't go." Tears streamed down my cheeks.

  "Don't make me beg, Rosie." Mama wiped the
tears from my face.

  "Your place is with your family, Sister," Mother Mary Ignatius said. "In time, if things settle down with your family, you can return to us."

  I looked hard at Kitty. I'd escaped her once. I knew if I left with her now, I'd never return to my beloved convent in the mountains.

  "Fine," I said. "Let's go."

  With a heavy heart, I climbed the polished marble stairs to the first years dormitory. I fought back tears and I packed my few belongings in the too large empty suitcase Kitty gave me.

  "Please tell me you're not leaving," Sister Elizabeth said from the doorway.

  "My stepfather's had a stroke."

  "Rosie, you can't leave me. I'll never make it here without you."

  I looked over at my good friend who had cried every night with homesickness for our first three months, a concept incomprehensible to me. Lizzie, who constantly fought Sister Mary Michael, our dorm supervisor. Poor Lizzie, who's spirit was nearly broken by latrine duty and endless hours spent peeling potatoes.

  "I'll send you chocolates," I promised.

  "You know those old bats will just eat them themselves. Ah, Rosie, promise me you'll hurry back."

  "I'll try," I choked out, knowing that absent a miracle, I'd never be back.

  Two weeks later, the house on Rose Hill settled into its new routine. Kitty took over Peter's responsibilities at the hardware store and the boys helped out after school. Kitty, who Peter had forbidden to work at the store early in their marriage after he caught her flirting with the customers, was clearly in her element. Like a woman possessed, she scoured the dusty, neglected store from top to bottom. She straightened the shelves, held a sale to get rid of old, outdated merchandise, and graced every customer who walked in the door with a big County Kerry hello and her undivided attention. Receipts had already increased.