The House of Roses (46 page)

“
Spaghetti and salad.”

“
I like that.”

“
I do, too,” Caren said.

Colin forced himself to eat, pausing from time to time to smile at Mia.
As normal as possible,
he thought. Nothing felt normal, not even as normal as it had only that morning, but he was doing his best.

They'd nearly finished dinner when Rosario cried out from the next room.

“
I'll go,” Colin said, reaching for Mia's hand. “You stay with Caren, sweetheart. I'll be right back.”

“
Is Mama okay?” Mia asked.

“
I'm sure she is. I'm going to check,” Colin said reassuringly.

He found Rosario wide-eyed, but still breathing. Her lips moved rapidly. He couldn't tell what she was saying, and he bent forward to listen more closely.

“
Eduardo?” Rosario said softly. “Is that you, my love?”

“
Yes,” Colin whispered, looking into Rosario's eyes. She seemed to look past him, at something over his shoulder, and without thinking, he turned, fully expecting to see something behind him. There was nothing. “Rosario,” he whispered. “I'm right here.”

“
Rosa,” she said softly.

“
What did you say?” he asked.

“
Call me Rosa, like you used to.”

“
Rosa,” Colin whispered, wondering where he was finding his strength.

He was a doctor. He'd held patients as they died, children as they took their last breath. And then, when it was over, he'd held mothers and fathers as they wept in his arms. He'd experienced death but he'd never really understood it, not until now. He suddenly knew what it was like to watch someone you love die, to share the last moments of their life. He wasn't in love with Rosario, but he had grown to love her in the short time they'd shared. He loved her as a friend and someone he greatly admired. He was sharing something precious with her, not only her child, but her passing, and in dying, she was teaching him about living.

Without prompting, he leaned closer to her face and whispered softly. “I love you, Rosa,” he said and watched as she smiled. He closed his eyes and held her hand, and listened to her ragged breathing.

“
I love you too, Colin,” she whispered, and he opened his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, before her eyes fluttered closed. It was the last time Rosario Mariposa would speak.

Fifty

Caitlin Goodrich sat on the front porch with the first of Ella's journals in her lap. She had put the babies down to sleep after dinner, and the monitor remained quiet by her side.

She could hear Rita and Maria talking in the kitchen, and they expected Nathan would be stopping by a bit later. Caitlin paused and listened to the soft murmur of their conversation. She couldn't make out their words, but she felt a sense of comfort knowing they were nearby.

She closed the journal she held, and pulled it to her chest. She had cried, but not from heartbreak. Although painfully brief, Ella had had a great love story. She had begun writing the journals after she met Charles Tayler. She described him in great detail, and Caitlin could picture him in her mind.

She opened the journal once more, and stared at the beautiful penmanship. She had marked one passage with a cigarette wrapper Rita had left on the table. Ella would think it appropriate. Caitlin smiled and began reading the passage again.

Dear Diary;

I have known Charles Tayler a little over seven hours, and I already know he is the man I will marry, the man I will love for my entire life. He is kind, and well spoken, although he claims to be uneducated. He called himself a poor farmer, and I don't care if he is poor, as he has a farmer's hands, strong hands, hands not afraid of hard work. He seemed almost ashamed when he cautiously reached for my hand, as he walked me to my father's car, and while his hands were worn from work, his touch was gentle  I first saw him as he was examining a hot dog that had fallen from the grill. I watched as he wiped it clean with his napkin, walked away, then fed it to an old hound dog who was dozing under a tree in the afternoon sun. He knelt beside the dog, patted his head, and he didn't grimace when the dog licked his face. He actually kissed the dog. I watched this young man kiss this ratty hound, and honestly, it was love at first sight. His kindness to the dog warmed my heart, as I recalled watching a neighbor misuse his own animal when I was a young girl. I knew it was wrong. I remember Daddy got his shotgun, and I was terrified he might shoot the dog, but I knew my daddy well, and I didn't really think he would do that. Daddy cocked the gun, at least I think that's what they call it, and pointed it at the man. I remember the man asked my daddy if he was going to shoot his dog. Daddy said no, and told the man he was going to shoot him if he ever lifted his hand and beat the animal again. The man asked my daddy if he wanted the dog, told my daddy the dog was useless. I remember watching, and listening, and thinking, yes, yes, yes, Daddy, please say yes. Daddy did. I still have that dog. He is old and deaf, and going blind, and his name is Lucky, because he is. He sleeps on my bed, and sometimes he smells a little, but I am lulled to the sleep by his snoring, and I am comforted to know he is there. Liz loves him too, although she'd never say so, but Lucky is mine. Mine and Daddy's. Lucky's old, and one day he will die, and although my heart will be broken, I will be glad he was ours, and that Daddy made sure no one ever beat him again.

Oh dear, I am forgetting to write about Charles. Mama always said I would find a man as good as my daddy, and I believe I have found that in Charles. He is like Daddy, but different, too. Daddy has dark hair, at least what's left is dark, and dark, dark eyes, almost the color of coffee. Charles has blond hair, and the bluest eyes, and the first time I looked in them, I was sure I'd never seen a more beautiful shade of blue. His shoulders are broad, and colored a golden bronze from many hours working in the sun. He wore a white tank top, kind of like an undershirt, and blue jeans, that were very worn, but clean. When I saw him from the back, I am sure I blushed a bright red. He looks quite nice from that angle. Goodness, I am blushing now.

His eyes light up when he laughs, and when he smiles, it reaches his blue eyes. He says he is ordinary, but there is nothing ordinary about Charles Tayler. I can still feel him holding my hand, and I can still hear the voice that asked me if I would slap him if he kissed me goodnight. I told him no, and I closed my eyes and waited for his lips to touch my cheek. They didn't. His lips touched mine, and I would not have been surprised to open my eyes and see the world around me on fire. I was on fire, just from that first kiss. I have never been kissed on the mouth. It was wonderful. I'd like to do it a lot more. I wish I could tell someone, but for now it will be my secret. Our secret, dear diary, yours and mine.

Caitlin set the journal aside. She thought of her laptop gathering dust in the corner of her room, and thought it might be time to open it. There were sixty-four more journals, more than even Ella thought, and Caitlin knew it was this extraordinary woman from whom she had gotten the writer's gift.

Caitlin watched as the sun set, announcing night's arrival, their second night without Ella, and although in her heart she felt the pain of loss, she also felt joy. Earlier that day she'd reread the letter Ella had written. When she was done, she spoke promises aloud, promises she prayed would carry beyond the clouds. Caitlin felt as though she had traveled a great distance to this place, to this moment of discovery. She knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, she was certain, and she knew it was a great blessing, this certainty. 

She would write. Her first book had been mere words, strung together, without substance. She would search her heart, her soul, and it was there she would find the stories. She knew this was her purpose in life. She would become a messenger, a story teller, and her first story would be Ella's. Caitlin hoped her words would one day fall upon the ears of someone who had devalued love, or walked away from it, as she had. She would write from the heart, with purpose, and meaning, and it would be her gift, not only to the world, but to herself.

Fifty-one

In the dream, someone was shouting. It sounded like a child, and Colin suddenly realized it was coming from outside the dream.

“
Papa!” Mia shouted, and Colin was immediately awake. He rose from the mattress on the floor, and before he could reach Mia, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

“
It's okay, sweetheart,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. “It's all right, Papa's here.” 

“
Mama made a noise. I'm scared,” Mia said. The little girl was shaking, and Colin pulled her into his arms, and held her tight. A small lamp on the bedside table cast a soft glow, illuminating Rosario's face enough for Colin to see her clearly. He didn't need to check her pulse. Rosario Mariposa was gone. Her body had given out, and while they had slept, her spirit had drifted away.

“
Colin?” Caren said from the doorway of the den. He looked at her. She was dressed in a nightgown and robe, and her blond hair that was always pinned up perfectly, lay loose around her shoulders.

Colin nodded, and watched as Caren's tears spilled over and slid down her face.

“
What can I do?” she asked.

“
Can you take Mia?” he asked.

“
No, Papa!  I want to stay with you. I want to stay with Mama!” Mia shouted, as her body shook in his arms. He fought back tears and closed his eyes for a moment to try to calm himself.

“
Caren will bring you right back. I need to help Mama, just for a minute.”

“
Okay,” Mia whispered reluctantly, and Colin felt her tears on his neck. “Is Mama okay?”

“
Yes, Mia.”

“
Is Mama sleeping?”  Colin shuddered involuntarily. His mind raced. He was Mia's  father now, her only parent. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't lie.

“
No,” he said, never imagining what it would take to say that one word.

“
No?” Mia whimpered into his shoulder.

“
No, Mia. Mama isn't sleeping, but Mama isn't hurting anymore. We don't want Mama to hurt, do we?”

“
No,” the child whimpered again.

“
Can you go with Caren, just for a minute?”

“
Okay,” Mia whispered.

“
Do you want Marvin?”

“
No. He's watching over Mama.”

“
Okay, sweetheart. Go with Caren. I'll come get you in just a couple of minutes.”

Colin watched as Caren left the room, with Mia holding tightly to her hand. He looked at his watch. It was four-fourteen in the early morning. He had checked Rosario at three-thirty. At three-thirty, she had been alive. He noted the time of death on the pad he'd left on the table near the lamp. He was the attending physician. It was something he had to do, although normally he wasn't crying when he did it. He gently closed Rosario's eyes, removed her oxygen tube, and turned the machine off by her side. He took a wipe from the small box in the drawer of her bedside table, and tenderly, he wiped her face. He tucked the blanket under her chin, wiped his eyes on his t-shirt, and leaned down and kissed Rosario's cheek.

“
Goodbye, my friend,” he whispered, and then slowly walked away.

Through blurry eyes, he found the jeans he'd left on the foot of the mattress. He slipped them on over his running shorts, and took the cell phone from his pocket. He dialed the number for hospice, and they answered immediately.

“
This is Doctor Colin Thomas,” he said, stopping between Doctor and Colin, to clear his throat. “I'm the attending physician for Rosario Mariposa. She just passed away.”

He listened carefully, and then closed the phone.

“
Papa?” Mia said from the doorway, and Colin looked at her.

“
She wants you,” Caren said, and he nodded.

“
It's okay, Mia. You can come in now.”

“
Mama's dead?”

“
Yes, Mia.”

“
But she's okay?”

“
Yes, sweetheart. She's okay now.”

“
Are you okay, Papa?” Mia asked, and Colin shook his head. He tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. He shook his head again, as the tears slid down his face. He knelt on the plush carpet, and opened his arms.

Mia flew across the room into his embrace. He held the little girl as they both cried.

Caren Wells stood watching, knowing she'd never seen anything more heartbreaking.

***

Nearly three hours later, Colin sat at his dining room table looking out the window. Hospice had arrived at just before five o'clock, and Rosario's body had been transported to a funeral home ten blocks away. Hospice had agreed to return later that day to retrieve the hospital bed where Mia slept with Marvin held tightly to her.