The Girls on Rose Hill (22 page)

If it wasn't for the body in the corner, it was almost as if we were at the cocktail portion of a family wedding. Catching up with my various cousins, many of whom I hadn't seen in years, was nice. If it had been someone else's mother in the box I think I would've really enjoyed myself.

Barbara Conroy, elegant in a black suit, grabbed my hand as I passed. "I'm so sorry, Ellen. Rose was such a good woman, such a good neighbor."

"Thank you." I felt a little uncomfortable around Mrs. Conroy, unsure of how much she knew about my relationship with her son. She seemed very caught up in her own social whirl, so perhaps she hadn't noticed how much time Billy had spent on Rose Hill these past few weeks.

She interrupted my thoughts. "Billy's parking the car." She gave me a tight smile. "He'll be in in a minute." I nodded. Barbara was no fool. She had noticed.

Lisa dragged me over to the corner and droned on about a list of the readings for the funeral mass she had worked on with Sister Elizabeth. Billy came in, looking very handsome in a surprisingly well-cut black suit. He smiled at me and rolled his eyes when he saw me cornered by Lisa; his eagle eyed mother didn't miss our exchange.

My sister-in-law Carol saved me from Lisa and introduced me to her mother who I hadn't seen since Carol and Danny's wedding. The mother, who was a bit deaf, was shouting in my ear when Brendan walked in.

"Sweetheart," he said in his booming voice. He confidently strode over to me and almost knocked over Carol's poor mother as he swept me into his arms.

"Brendan." I extricated myself from his embrace. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Ah, boss, I know I'm a little late, but my insider trading case settled today." He looked around, as if he expected a round of applause. "I came here as soon as I could."

"I'm sure you did," I said lightly, not wanting to make a scene in front of the relatives.

"How are you?" Brendan asked.

"As well as could be expected."

"You look great!" He tapped the woman standing near him on the shoulder. "Doesn't she look great?"

My old friend Laurie Nolan, one of the few people I had confided in about Billy, spun around. She smiled hesitantly at me.

"Doesn't she?" Brendan continued to ask. "Miss, um, I'm sorry but have we met."

She extended her hand. "Laurie Nolan."

"Yes, Laurie Nolan," I said. "The maid of honor at our wedding. Ring any bells?"

"Oh, Laurie, of course," Brendan said, trying to recover. "I think you changed your hair."

"Brendan, why don't you walk over with me and pay your respects to my mother."

"Of course, sweetheart, of course. Nice seeing you again Laura."

Laurie rolled her eyes.

As we walked over to the casket, Brendan noticed Billy talking to Timmy and Veronica and his affable countenance quickly evaporated. "What is he doing here?" Brendan spat. "Why is he talking to our children?"

"The Conroys have been our neighbors for years," I said in a low voice. "Don't make a scene."

We knelt in front of the body. With his head bowed, he said, "I want him gone. Now."

"Shush, have some respect for my mother. Please."

Brendan quickly mouthed a Hail Mary, carelessly crossed himself and then stormed off to the men's room. As I made my way over to my Auntie Maura, Barbara Conroy stopped me. "Ellen, dear, I'm not feeling well. Billy and I are going to leave, but we'll see you at St. Ann's tomorrow. All right?"

Barbara didn't look at all sick, but I appreciated her tact. I nodded and accepted her embrace. Looking over her shoulder, Billy smiled at me. Brendan's little scene by the casket didn't exactly go unnoticed.

The rest of the wake went pretty much as I'd expected. Sister Elizabeth led a round of the rosary, the younger people stumbled through it. There was a lot of hugging, a lot of "isn't it a shame we only meet at funerals?" A lot of promising to do a better job of staying in touch. Despite how far the descendants of the O'Connor sisters had spread across both state and socio-economic lines, there was something almost primal in our need to be together to mark the passing of another member.

Brendan of course walked around the room as if he was the mayor. Making jokes with this one, slapping the back of another. I overheard him telling Paul how wonderful Duke is, how much it's made a man of our Timmy. As if he'd know. As if he'd ever even step foot on the campus.

Brendan had taken a cab from the airport so the five of us piled into my car—one big happy family. Of course Brendan along with my children were staying at my mother's house. Well, I guess technically it's my house now. After living alone in the house for so many weeks it felt strange to have them there. Brendan with his booming voice and my boys with their six foot frames overwhelmed the small house.

"Hey, boss, I'm starving. What do you have to eat around this place?"

"I don't think I have much. There might be some snacks in the boathouse."

"Let's order a pizza. Kids, do you want some Lawn Guyland pizza?"

"Sure!" Timmy said enthusiastically, always eager to be Brendan's side kick.

Veronica, who sat in the corner of the small kitchen table said, "Dad, do you really think it's appropriate to throw a pizza party when Nana just died. What about Mom?"

"Aw, come on sweetheart. A guy's gotta eat!"

I was surprised by Veronica. Like the boys, she loved to bask in Brendan's attention, no matter how fleeting. It was not like her to criticize him, to not serve as his permanent cheerleader. Perhaps these past few weeks sharing the house with him alone had given her some insight into her father. Not that I was happy to see it. I preferred that my children live in the happy family bubble I worked so hard to construct. However, given that I suspected I would soon be sticking a pin in that bubble, maybe her new awareness was not the worst thing in the world. "Veronica, it's all right. I don't mind. Let the boys have their pizza."

Thirty minutes later, Brendan and the boys drank the beers Michael found in the boathouse and inhaled pepperoni pizza. Veronica and I sipped ice tea and I was able to eat half a slice.

"Isn't it great to be here all together," Brendan said between enormous bites of pizza. "When we get back, I want to make this a regular thing. How about every Friday being pizza night?"

"Dad, I'm leaving for school next week." Veronica barely looked up from her plate.

"Yeah, me too," said Michael. "But, I'd definitely be up for it when we're back from break."

"Terrific! It'll be a new Mills family tradition. Every Friday. Sound good, honey?"

Veronica eyed me skeptically. I said noncommittally, "We'll see what everyone's schedules look like in the fall. Now Veronica, could you get those sheets out of the dryer? I want to make up the beds."

Veronica would be sleeping in my mother's room, Timmy in my room and Michael in Paul's old bed. The only place for me and Brendan to sleep was in the master bedroom, Kitty's old room. While I didn't look forward to sharing a bed again with Brendan, especially after what happened last time, I wanted things to appear as normal as possible for the children's sake. I needed to get through the funeral with as little drama as possible. I'd deal with my marriage and my affair after that.

I was already in bed, dressed in a very unsexy white cotton nightgown, when Brendan came in. He flipped the light on and then slowly undressed.

"It was great seeing everyone tonight, wasn't it? We should invite them down to the house soon. You could have a little, oh I don't know, a little family reunion. Wouldn't that be great?"

"I don't know, Brendan. You've never been interested in entertaining my family before."

"There a great group of folks, and you know it's a time like this that you realize what's really important. Family. That's what it's all about."

"That's what it's all about, huh?"

"Absolutely." Brendan jumped into the bed, naked.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" Brendan asked, feigning innocence.

"Your pajamas. Aren't you forgetting your pajamas?" This time I didn't even try and hide my irritation.

"Ooops, must've forgotten to pack them."

"Brendan, who do you think you're talking to? Those ridiculous pajamas are always the first thing you pack."

"Well, my lovely bride will just have to warm me up." Brendan snuggled closer to me.

"I'm tired and I don't have the patience for this."

"Sweetheart, I know that you've been under a lot of pressure, stress, these past few weeks. Once we get home everything will be better."

"Better?"

"With us. Things will be better with us. I realized how much you mean to me. I want to do whatever it takes to get us back on track."

"Back on track? Brendan, please be real. We haven't been on any sort of track for years."

"Well, it's never too late, right? We could try that, what's it called? Marriage counseling. We could try that marriage counseling you suggested."

"You mean the marriage counseling I suggested ten years ago? That marriage counseling?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's do that."

"And what's prompted this renewed interest in our relationship? Did Christine break up with your or is it the fact that I'm fucking someone else?"

"Honestly, is it a crime to have a new appreciation for my beautiful wife?"

"I can't deal with this bullshit now. I really can't. I've been begging you for your love, hell even just your attention, for years now. All of sudden you care about me, about the kids? Now you want to have a pizza night? It's pathetic. A day late and a dollar short." I turned over, my back to him. "I have to bury my mother tomorrow. I need to get through the next twenty-four hours without having a complete breakdown. The last thing I need to think about right now is this marriage so can you please act like a normal person and go through the motions tomorrow? If you really do love me, then do that. Show me that for once in your life you can think of someone other than yourself."

"Okay, Ellen. I can do that." He patted my shoulder gently. "You go to sleep now."

The next morning, the five of us got ready in silence. The Griffins from down the street had left us a plate of bagels, rolls and cream cheese. Timmy made a pot of coffee and we ate breakfast. My hand shook a little when I was trying to put on my mascara, but other than that, I held it together fairly well.

We gathered at the funeral home one more time. Sister Elizabeth, dressed in a simple black dress, led us in a prayer. Each of my uncles walked up to the coffin; Danny bravely grabbed her hand, Paul slipped a miniature sailboat into the casket. Each of my children quickly said goodbye to her. And then it was my turn.

I knelt before what remained of my mother and bowed my head. Silently, I begged for her forgiveness. I prayed that she had finally found peace. I stepped back to allow them to close the casket. As the lid fell across her face, my knees buckled. Molly was behind me. She roughly grabbed my elbow and broke my fall.

"You're doing wonderfully, Ellen. Just a few more hours, and you'll be done. Okay?"

"I'm okay. I just..."

"I know."

Molly and I followed my uncles out into the limo. Brendan drove the children in my car. Auntie Maura rode with us while her sons followed behind. We slowly proceeded to St. Ann's. The sun was blazing when we reach the church. My silk blouse clung to me, already damp from the heat. Dizzy as I climbed out of the limo, the sun blinded me. I stumbled slightly. A strong hand grabbed me. Billy.

I turned to him, his golden hair brilliant in the sun. I leaned on him as he wordlessly guided me up the stone steps into the church. The vestibule was dark, cool. I stopped for a moment.

"Are you all right, Ellen? Do you want a drink of water?"

"Yes. I could use some water."

Billy got me a cup from the hall bathroom. I drank the lukewarm water, and felt marginally better. Billy then walked me to the front of the church and held my arm as if he was afraid that I would fall. Like a father walking a bride down the aisle, Billy deposited me at the altar. He squeezed my hand as he left to find his way to a pew in the middle of the church, behind those reserved for close friends and family. I walked over to the organist, a small wizened man of at least seventy. I'd promised my mother before she died that I would sing a song at her funeral mass. It seemed like an easy enough request at the time; I'd always liked to sing. But now, my lungs felt like they were made of lead and the last thing I wanted to do was face a room full of people.

But I was not about to fail my mother again, so I stood at the lower lectern, my shoulders straight. People streamed into the church, and once again I was surprised by the size of the crowd, especially for a weekend in mid-August, the height of vacation time. My mother, who I'd always thought of as a semi-recluse, had clearly touched a lot of people in this town.

When the priest gave us the signal, the organist began his dirge. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Not missing a beat, the organist continued to play, as if this was just part if the introduction. I looked out at my daughter. She nodded her head at me, encouraged me. I tried again, and sang out:

"Be not afraid, for I am with you always,

Come, follow me, and I will give you rest."

The mass was beautiful, every reading and song picked with care by my mother and Sister Elizabeth. By the end of the priest's eulogy, I didn't think I had any more tears left, but then he invited Sister Elizabeth to say a few words and by the end of that I don't believe there was a dry eye in the church. Veronica sat next to me, her arm around me. Brendan sat on my other side where he awkwardly patted my arm from time to time.

My two sons were pallbearers along with my uncles. I followed them down the aisle with Veronica on my right and Brendan on my left. Billy boldly stared at us as we walked down the aisle, his mouth tight.

Brendan insisted on riding in the limo to St. Charles cemetery, as if to stake his claim to me. I was too worn out to protest. I refused to meet Billy's eyes as he stood on the church steps next to his mother.