The Girls on Rose Hill (24 page)

Billy ambled over. We had spent many hours discussing my father so Billy wasn't surprised to see Denis. The two men gave each other hearty handshakes while I looked on. The three of us were drinking the last three beers left in the boathouse when Brendan stomped onto the deck.

"Well, isn't this cozy?"

"Hello," I said, barely looking up. Nominally polite, but not inviting.

"I've spoken to our children. They're at Molly's in case you're interested. I'm flying back to D.C. with the boys tonight. Molly said she'd bring Veronica back here for that cake thing. I assume she can sleep here tonight?"

"Of course she can sleep here tonight."

"I didn't know if you'd be busy," he sneered.

"When have I been too busy to care for my daughter? That's your bailiwick, Brendan, not mine."

Brendan ignored my dig. "When can I expect you home?"

Billy wouldn't meet my eyes and Denis seemed slightly uncomfortable so I just said lightly, "I'll be in touch."

"Fantastic. I'll call myself a cab since you're busy." Brendan's face was uncharacteristically flushed with anger. He glared at me for a moment and then spun around and left.

Billy finished his beer in a final gulp. "I'd better get going. My mother's waiting for this fish. I'll call you later, El."

"Okay. I'll be here."

He smiled, did the nice to meet yous with Denis and then walked to his mother's.

After Billy left, Denis smiled. "Was it my imagination or are things a little complicated around here?"

I laughed. "You're some detective. Things are a lot complicated around here. I suspect that I'll have to make a lot of decisions in the next few weeks. I didn't just bury my mother, I feel like I've buried a lot of my past, especially with respect to my marriage. But I've uncovered some things as well. I don't think I ever really appreciated how much not knowing about my father affected me. I think it was one of the things that poisoned my relationship with my mother. I can see now how it impacted the choices I made later on, who I chose to marry. And while I'm disappointed that he doesn't want me in his life, at least I've met him. I know where he is. I feel at peace in a way."

"You're a nice woman, Ellen. I hope that things work out for you. I hope my father changes his mind and that you get to meet my brother and sister. And I hope whether you move to D.C. or wherever, that we can stay in touch."

"I would love that, Denis. You have no idea how much."

Chapter 26

Ellen

Brendan barely looked at me as he walked out the door and into the waiting cab. A few months ago, I would have been thrilled that he showed so much attention to me, to our marriage. I didn't know if it was meeting Billy or losing my mother, but his feelings, his actions, they all now left me cold. If I never had to see him again, I'd be just as happy. How strange. I'd spent twenty years catering to him, tying myself up in knots to get his attention. Although I should've been sad about the death of my feelings for my husband, I wasn't sad. I felt calm. Free.

I stood underneath a punishing stream of hot water for twenty minutes, the rough porcelain of the old tub scratched the soles of my feet. I carefully climbed over the tub onto the old mat and stared at my red face in the mirror. I rubbed my mother's lilac body lotion into my skin and dressed in a blue linen shift. I walked into my mother's room and opened her small wooden jewelry box. Inside were her rosary beads and the silver St Brigid's cross my grandmother had bought Rose on her sole trip back home to Ireland. I slipped the delicate chain around my neck.

Downstairs, I rummaged through the cabinets and searched for the candles that were probably last used for Kitty's
toradh do bhean muirneach
. I arranged the candles around the living room and the adjoining dining room. I opened the small china breakfront and carefully removed the china plates, cups and saucers that were Kitty's pride and joy. I washed and dried them and then set the table. After my performance at the funeral lunch I wasn't sure who was going to show up for the
toradh do bhean muirneach
, but I wanted to be prepared.

It was almost dark when Carol arrived with her a plate of cannoli. Only female blood relations were supposed to attend a
toradh do bhean muirneach
, but Carol was so sweet and had been so good to my mother that I decided to make an exception. No such exception was made for Lisa. Given the now bad blood between me and my uncles I was touched that Carol decided to cross enemy lines.

Molly soon arrived with her daughter Sarah, my Veronica and of course Auntie Maura. Veronica smiled at me, in her funny, wry way. I wasn't sure what to expect from her. She liked to play the worldly miss, but really she's been a very sheltered little girl. I certainly would've liked to break the news of my relationship with Billy in a different way, but oddly she didn't seem too bothered by it. I hoped my sons would be as understanding.

Maura very proudly set out the soda bread she'd managed to make in her Sunny Hills efficiency kitchen. "Who brought cannoli to a
toradh do bhean muirneach
?"

"What? Was that wrong?" Carol asked.

I laughed. "That's what happens when you open up the party to Italians."

"I'll take my cannoli over that pound cake any day!"

Maura took the seat at the head of the table, as was her place as the oldest. "Soda bread, love, and it'll melt in your mouth, I promise you that."

Molly placed her apple cake next to the cannoli. "We've enough cake here to feed an army. Maybe we should've invited some of the men."

"Men!" Maura was horrified. "Men at a
toradh do bhean muirneach
. God forbid."

"Well, they can have the leftovers," Carol said.

"We burn the leftovers, love." Maura said. "For the spirits."

"Oh, the spirits," Carol said. "Of course."

Veronica and Sarah made tea, and I lit the candles. Molly had brought some pictures which she set up on the table. My mother in her holy communion dress, her straight black hair coaxed into ringlets; one of Rose holding me as an infant; Molly and my mother on a beach last year. Molly even surprised me by adding the picture of my mother in her postulant's veil.

The room was lit entirely by candlelight, everyone's face casted partially in shadow.

"Auntie Maura, what do we do now?" Veronica asked. "Do we chant or something?"

"Chanting? For goodness sake, child. What do you think this is, a séance?"

"Well, you did mention spirits."

"It's a custom, that's all. No, we eat cake and bid our dear Rose farewell in our own way. The old people used to think that the spirit needed sustenance to make its long journey to heaven. I don't know about that, but I would like to believe that Rose is here with us now."

"And I happen to know that she loved my cannoli," Carol added. Molly laughed.

"Does everyone in Ireland do this?" Sarah asked. Both she and Veronica were too young to be included in Kitty's
toradh do bhean muirneach
so this was their first one.

"I don't know, love. I know all the women in our family did it and I believe a few other families in Kilvarren did as well. I remember attending one of the Sheehan's, since they're our third cousins. I don't know about other parts of Ireland. Remember, I left there in the 1940s and I've only been back once. I've never even been to Dublin."

"What does that word mean? It sounds like you got some cake caught in your throat," Sarah giggled.

"How dare you mock our mother tongue, you pup.
Toradh do bhean muirneach
," Maura said slowly. "It means wake for a beloved woman, although we always do it after the funeral so I guess technically it's not a wake."

"And why are only women allowed to come?" Veronica asked.

"All these questions." Maura sipped her tea. "Ah, I don't know. To get the men out of our hair for a few hours?"

"I think it's a lovely custom." I poured everyone out their tea. "I wasn't sure I was up for this but now I'm glad you're all here."

Maura bit into the apple cake. "Molly, this is delicious."

"It's my mother's recipe."

"Margaret always did make nice cake," Maura said. "I'll have to be sure to give you the recipe for my soda bread, Molly. For my
toradh do bhean muirneach
. I know I can't rely on this one to make it."

"I can order it from a bakery." I smiled at her and played the fool.

"A bakery? Please, soda bread from a bakery? You might as well serve cannoli."

"I'll take the recipe, Maura," Molly said, "but I hope I don't have to make it for a
toradh do bhean muirneach
for a long, long time."

"Won't be long now, love. Now that those bitches have stuck me in that place. Sunny Hill. They might as well call it Death Hill. I swear, they're dropping like flies on my floor. There were two last week."

Molly rubbed Maura's shoulder. "Auntie, no. Don't say that."

"Death is part of life, girls. It comes for us all. Besides, I miss my sisters. I miss my husband. I want to see my baby daughter again. I know it sounds odd to you, but I'm looking forward to it."

Veronica and Sarah looked slightly horrified.

I smiled at the girls. "We'll just make the most of the time we have together." I poured Maura more tea. "That's a lesson I learned too late with my own mother. I wish I had gotten to know her better and didn't wait until she was on her deathbed."

Maura set down her tea cup. "Hush now, love. You were with her when it counted. A
toradh do bhean muirneach
is not for regrets. It's a time to celebrate. Tell us something good you remember about your mother. Something funny."

"Something funny?" I was stuck, I couldn't think of anything light, anything funny. My last few months with my mother were so heavy with dark emotions: anger, guilt, regret.

Molly seemed to have sensed my confusion. "Give us a song then, Ellen. You're the only one here who can carry a note and your mother loved to hear you sing."

"What should I sing?"

Veronica said, "Anything, Mom. What about that song you sang me as a baby?"

I stood up and sang the snippets of the songs my mother sang to me as a child, the songs I sang to my own children. Some in English, some in fractured Irish. I stumbled over some of the words, but Veronica, in her deep raspy voice, supplied the missing words. Maura clapped along, slightly off beat.

"Oh, that was wonderful, Ellen," Molly said when I was finished. "I'm sure Rosie loved that."

"Thanks, Molly. I hope she did."

"I can't think of anything funny," Molly said. "Rosie was never exactly the life of the party. But, she was always there for me. Always listening, always helping. I loved her so much and I know that I'll miss her every day for the rest of my life."

"She was a dear, sweet girl who had to put up with a lot. But she never complained. Not once." Auntie Maura reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. "Veronica, dear, go get me those glasses out of the cabinet. I want to toast Rosie and I need something a little stronger than tea."

Veronica pulled out the crystal glasses. Maura, her hand shaking, insisted on pouring the whiskey herself. Veronica handed us each a glass.

"
Slainte
, girls. To Rose."

"To Rose," we all repeated.

Epilogue

Two Years Later

"Stop fidgeting or I'll burn your neck."

"Geez, Laurie, you're taking forever."

"Stop, you want this to be perfect, don't you? You only get married once. Okay, twice in your case."

A cool breeze blew through the window. Outside, my future mother-in-law instructed the catering crew how to set up the tents on our two adjoining lawns. One benefit of being a divorced Catholic was that the second time around you didn't have to bother with the Church's rules. No ceremony in a dark church, no boring Pre Cana classes.

Billy had wanted to have a destination wedding in the Bahamas but I surprised him by insisting that we get married on Rose Hill. My first wedding was so rushed that most of my family didn't make it. I'd worn an off the rack shapeless sack with enough room around the middle to hide my baby bump. Now, twenty-odd years on, I was fit from my daily runs with Billy and I wanted to wear something slinky, sexy. I also wanted my family, all of my family, around me for this trip down the aisle.