The Mill River Redemption (18 page)

Father O’Brien liked to walk when the weather was good. Walking helped ease the stiffness in his hips and knees, and it also provided him some time for relaxation and reflection. Summer was the nicest time to be outside, when the deep chill of the Vermont winter was long forgotten and the sunlight lingered for hours after suppertime.

For months, since early in the spring, he’d used his daily walks to deal with his grief. It had been almost six months since he’d lost his closest friend and confidante, the reclusive widow Mary McAllister. For seventy years, they’d had an entirely platonic and yet incredibly close relationship, until she had taken her own life in the final stage of her battle with pancreatic cancer. He had never had a better friend; indeed, Mary had helped him overcome his greatest
sin, and she had been his soul mate in every way permitted by his vows.

He looked up toward the white marble mansion on the hill overlooking the town, which had been Mary’s home. Even though Mary had left her house to Fitz and Ruth, he half expected to see her form silhouetted in one of the windows, peering down at Mill River. He could still hear her quiet voice, and sometimes, in his mind’s eye, he saw her face reflect various expressions—happiness, worry, empathy, disapproval—in response to his own thoughts and decisions. His sadness over Mary’s death was manageable now, partly because time had begun to temper the rawness of his emotions, but mostly because he had come to understand that she was still a part of him and always would be.

Father O’Brien took another deep breath and tried to focus on the present. Tonight, he strolled purposefully toward The Bookstop, where he would meet Ivy Collard for tea. He’d wondered how it was going with her great-nieces, and when he’d called to offer his assistance, Ivy had invited him to come by.

As he approached Ivy’s house on the corner, he saw that her porch light was on, as were the lights in the front room. Through the open front door, he could see Ivy organizing books on one of the shelves.

“Is that you, Father?” she called through the screen door as his footsteps sounded on the porch stairs. “Come on in, I’m just straightening up.”

“Thank you,” he said as he pulled open the screen door and stepped inside. “You’re working late.”

“Only catching up on things I procrastinated,” Ivy said. “During the summer, I get sucked into my porch swing and can’t seem to make myself get out of it, even when I’ve got things to do. Just shows it’s true what they say about getting too comfortable, I guess.”

“Comfortable is good. And summer is short,” Father O’Brien said.

“Agreed. Come on back to the kitchen.” Ivy stepped away from a bookshelf and opened the door that led back into her living quarters. “I’ll put the kettle on, and we can chat.”

Father O’Brien followed her through the small house and settled himself at the kitchen table. Ivy put some water on to boil and brought over a small plate of cookies. “They’re oatmeal butterscotch, made ’em this morning.”

He reached for a cookie as Ivy bustled around at the counter, pulling things from cupboards and drawers. Finally, she came over with two mugs and two spoons, as well as a small bowl holding an assortment of tea bags. “I’ve got lemon, sugar, and milk, whatever you like,” Ivy said as she sat down opposite him. “It’ll be a few minutes before the water’s ready, though.”

“Just a bit of sugar would be fine,” Father O’Brien said. He tried very hard not to stare at the shiny silver teaspoon she had placed before him, focusing instead on the soft, chewy cookie he held in his hands. “These are very good,” he added after he took another bite.

“Thanks,” Ivy said. “These were actually Josie’s favorite. I haven’t made ’em since … well.” She paused, and he looked up to find her staring at him sadly.

“I miss Josie, too,” Father O’Brien said. “It’s always horrible to lose someone dear to you, but when it happens suddenly, without time to prepare or say a proper goodbye, it’s a terrible shock. Of course, facing the death of a loved one when you know it’s coming …” He lightly traced a finger around the edge of his cookie and saw Mary’s face in his mind. “I’m not sure whether you feel this way, but it seems that the older I get, the more difficult it is to lose someone. Maybe it’s because, at my age, the few people I’m close to who are still left I’ve known for a long time, so the bonds
are stronger. Or, maybe, getting old has made me a little less sturdy emotionally. I’m not sure.”

“I know what you mean,” Ivy said. “I’m not exactly a spring chicken myself, you know.” Her voice grew a little quieter. “I imagine you’ve had a rough time of Mary McAllister’s passing.”

“It’s been much harder than I anticipated,” he replied, “and I’m no stranger to grief or loss. It’s just that, this time,
I’ve
been the one going through the grieving process. I had a younger sister who died when she was a baby. My one surviving sibling, a brother, passed on many years ago. He was seven years older than me, and we weren’t all that close to begin with.

“Mary was like the sister I never had. When we first met, we had no way of knowing our lives would become intertwined for decades afterward. She became the closest thing I had to actual family.” Father O’Brien felt tears threaten to spill out of his eyes. He rarely allowed himself to remember Mary in the presence of another person, and he seldom spoke of her to anyone. He glanced up at Ivy and found that her eyes, too, were watery with emotion.

“Josie had been in my life for such a long time. Ever since she came to Mill River, she was like a daughter to me. She filled a void in my life, that’s for sure. After Thomas and I split, I pretty much resigned myself to being alone. Never expected to have a family and never realized how much I was missing until Josie showed up. It was a blessing having her here, and her girls, too, until they grew up and moved away.”

Father O’Brien nodded and was quiet a moment. He was surprised to hear Ivy mention Thomas Dearborn, her former fiancé, with whom she had first opened The Bookstop. He’d always been curious about the reason for their parting, but it was none of his business, and Ivy had never sought his counsel on the situation. Now, as they sat together sharing their grief, he considered asking her more about Thomas before he decided against it. It was still
none of his business, and it had nothing to do with the reason for his visit.

“Well, you know I’ve been wondering about Rose and Emily,” he said. “Daisy stopped by my place earlier. She’s still set on getting Rose to forgive her, and this afternoon, she almost gave it another try. I heard that you and Emily talked her out of it. That’s a good thing, if you did.”

“Yes, she doesn’t understand that it’d be best for her to steer clear of Rose right now. It’s funny, though, how Daisy always seems to be in the know about what’s going on. She has a knack for being in the right place at the right time,” Ivy said with a little smile that gave way to a heavy sigh. “Emily was with me when Daisy came by. The girls got into it this afternoon, and Emily came over to see me afterward. She and I have always been pretty close. Rose, on the other hand … we started out close, too, but once she got to be a teenager …” Ivy paused and shook her head. “She’s mostly kept to herself since she got here. I’ve only seen her on the day they arrived and again a few days later, when she came over here with Alex to get him a few books.

“But, as I was saying, Emily came right over after they got into it. She thinks Rose is drinking again, or that maybe she never stopped. I know Rose had Josie convinced she didn’t have a drinking problem anymore. But, maybe she wasn’t being truthful. Or maybe it’s just something that’s too easy to fall back into.”

Father O’Brien shook his head sadly, noticing how the movement was mirrored as a tiny, blurred image in the teaspoon in front of him. “Addiction is a powerful and terrible thing.”

“It is,” Ivy agreed. “And drinking seems to bring out the worst in people. Emily’s actually more worried about Rose’s son. Alex is only nine, and he’s alone over there with her.”

“Do you think the boy’s in danger?”

“No, not at the moment,” Ivy said. “But Emily and I are trying
to keep close tabs on the situation. Emily said Rose gave Alex the chore of listing some of the stuff in the house, but I tell you, it’s poor judgment, leaving that job to a nine-year-old.”

The teakettle on the stove began to whistle, and Ivy jumped up to turn off the burner and pour hot water into their empty mugs.

“I’ve been wondering how I might help those girls,” Father O’Brien said. He selected a tea bag and began to dunk it up and down in his cup. “Maybe I should go over and try to talk with Rose.”

“I’m grateful for the offer, Father, but I don’t know that it’d help, at least, not yet. I think we need to give her and Emily a chance to make a go of things. I’m still hoping the girls will do what their mother wanted on their own. Let’s give them some time. We’ll monitor things as best we can. If the girls don’t make any headway or things continue to deteriorate, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“I’m happy to do whatever I can. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with problems brought about by addiction. I’ve seen all kinds.” Father O’Brien stole another glance at his teaspoon.

“I’m sure you have. You might be able to counsel Emily, too. She’s frustrated and upset, and if things go downhill, I think it would make her feel better if she knew you were trying to move things along. Emily was so close to Josie, and she knew you helped her mother through some difficult times. Emily’s just trying to do what her mother wanted. I think she also came back here this summer to move past what happened between her and Rose once and for all, even if she hasn’t quite admitted that to herself.”

“What if they end up staying estranged?”

Ivy shrugged. “Emily needs closure. I know she’s never been able to escape the accident. It still haunts her. Losing Andy like that was bad enough, but not a lot of people realize that, for all
intents and purposes, she lost her sister that day, too. Those girls used to be so close.”

“I remember,” Father O’Brien said.

“Emily’s been running ever since, but maybe she’s come home to Mill River to make peace with the past, regardless of whether things work out with Rose. I think she knows that’s her only way forward.”

T
EA WITH
F
ATHER
O’B
RIEN ENDED UP LASTING FAR LONGER THAN
Ivy anticipated, but she was glad it had turned out that way. They lingered in the kitchen, talking and laughing, and occasionally dabbing at tears, for close to two hours. She chuckled to herself as she remembered how they’d both risen slowly from the table, stiff with arthritis after sitting for so long. The soreness from the hard wooden chairs aside, it had felt wonderful to visit with an old friend, and she was glad he’d opened up to her about his grief. She imagined that, despite his role in the community and having constant contact with people, dealing with a profound loss of his own might have brought a certain loneliness to his life.

Father O’Brien had left the same way he’d arrived, through the front door of The Bookstop. After she relocked the door behind him, even though it was late, Ivy decided to finish shelving her new inventory. For some reason, she wasn’t sleepy yet, and she was still ruminating over her visit with the priest. Using her cane to steady herself, Ivy pushed a box of books across the carpet with her foot until it was positioned near the children’s bookshelves.

Ivy sat on one of the small, brightly colored beanbags, humming to herself as she labeled the new books and found room for them on the shelves. She loved browsing through the titles already there, especially those that were perennial favorites. So many of the folks in Mill River had grown up coming to her little shop. She
could still recall which children had loved certain books, children who were now grown up with kids of their own.

Memories of Rose and Emily also came back to her as she sat in the Kids’ Corner. How many times over the years had she looked over to see the girls sitting here? Some weeks, especially right after Josie had started working in that god-awful real estate office and the girls needed a supervised place to go until she got home, it seemed as if Rose and Emily had practically lived at The Bookstop. She remembered all those times the girls had done homework at the kitchen table, sat among the books in the front room, played or napped in the attic, and raced downstairs, eager to see Josie when she arrived from work to take them home.

Ivy sighed and hoped that, if she did have to call upon him, Father O’Brien would somehow find a way to help Rose and Emily. She still loved both girls fiercely. It pained her to see them so cold and hateful toward each other and suffering from their own problems on top of that, when she knew how strong their bond had been all those years ago.

S
EVERAL HOURS AFTER
F
ATHER
O’B
RIEN HAD MADE HIS WAY FROM
The Bookstop back to the parish house, Rose DiSanti woke from a fitful slumber on the sofa. It was dark in the living room, and she groped around until she felt the base of the lamp on the end table. The dim light from its fluorescent bulb revealed a haphazard collection of empty glasses and bottles. Beyond that, there were still many unpacked boxes scattered around the room, resting on the floor and the seats and surfaces of unmatched furniture.

Rose pushed herself up into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. Slowly, she remembered that Emily had come by earlier. While most of the exchange was a blurry memory, her sister’s stinging words surged back into her mind. Rose felt enraged all over
again as she remembered Emily’s expression of disbelief at her explanation for not having completed her list. She saw absolutely no problem with having Alex complete the book inventory.

She looked around her chaotic living room and realized that perhaps she had underestimated the length of time Alex would need to sort through the books and other things in the house. Maybe it would take him longer than what Emily would consider reasonable. Just for reassurance, though, or maybe to prove to herself that Emily was dead wrong about his ability to handle the project, Rose decided go upstairs to check on Alex’s progress.