Alice sniffed. “We didn’t know that she was hiding her sleeping pill every night. Your dad would only give her one at a time and he kept the bottle locked up, but she was squirreling them away.”
The faces around me wore an expression I couldn’t name. My curiosity was finally being fed, but with a distasteful meal.
Dad shook his head. “I’ve always wondered if she seemed happier because she knew she her pain would soon be over.”
I ached to comfort my gentle father, but sorrow and curiosity fixed me to the spot where I sat.
“On the last Saturday night of her life, she went to confession, just like always, and when she came home she seemed so at peace,” Dad continued. “The next morning she rose early, full of vim. Went to early morning mass. When she got back she cleaned every inch of the flat and the bar. Polished every surface and fluffed every pillow. When she was done, she took you for a romp in the park and came home and made a big family Sunday supper.”
I remembered that Sunday. Clear and bright for a February day. It had been so long since I’d seen my mother with enough energy to go for a walk. She pushed me on the swings and we smelled every flower in the Arboretum. She pointed out all of my dad’s favorites and told stories of the bouquets of lilies and posies he’d given her when they were courting. She even rode with me on the carousel and made an elaborate meal of roasted lamb with creamed peas and new potatoes, and a fraughan pie for dessert. I willed myself to remember the taste of the tart berries and vanilla cream, the sound of my mother’s voice, and her lavender scent. She tucked me into bed that night and we said the Lord’s Prayer together. I could still feel her gentle kiss on my forehead.
“She came down the stairs bright and early Monday morning with her coat on and said she’d forgotten something at the church,” Alice explained. “Asked me to walk you to school. ‘Look after our Katie,’ she said. ‘Our Katie,’ that’s what she always called you. Those were the very last words she ever spoke to me.” Alice brought her handkerchief to her nose and swiped it under her eyes.
I could feel my breathing quicken, and suddenly felt a chill.
Tully was at the bar extra early for his coffee that morning. Offered to go get whatever she’d left, but my mother would hear nothing of it.
“That has haunted Tully ever since, Kitten. The thoughts of if only torture him. Before she left for the church, she swallowed all of those pills she’d been tucking away and marched up the hill to St. Anne’s.”
Tully had a job painting the church, a job Mother had gotten for him. He found her lying in the church courtyard in the flower bed in front of the statue of the Virgin.
“All those pills in such a little body,” Alice said. She dabbed her nose and tucked her handkerchief back into her sleeve.
In a panic, Tully picked up my mother’s tiny bird body, carried her to the cab of his truck, and brought her back to the flat.
Dr. Schwartz stilled his quaking hands on his coffee mug. “Tully gave Elyse a final kindness by protecting her privacy and driving her home.” He removed his glasses and looked deep into my eyes from under his white eyebrows. “I called my friend at the coroner’s office.”
From his shirt pocket, Dad pulled a folded piece of paper. Despite its years, the paper was still crisp and white. I unfolded it. At the top it said “Certificate of Death” and bore the embossed seal of the San Francisco office of the coroner. My eyes scanned the contents of black rectangles, filled with off-center, typed words and x’s that just missed the centers of tiny boxes. Gender, female. Age, 42. Height, 4 ft. 11 in., Weight, 91 lbs. Cause of death, Heart Failure due to Barbiturate overdose.
Because he detected no foul play, Dr. Schwartz’s friend had omitted any mention of suicide from the death certificate.
“We just sat with her awhile,” Alice said. “Saying good-bye. Then we noticed the card sticking out of her coat pocket. One of those little altar cards with a picture of the Christ child and the Virgin. I’ll never forget the words she wrote on the back of that card.”
Dad pulled the little altar card from his pocket and passed it to Alice. She stroked the card gently, then passed it to me. A haloed Mary held a glowing infant and wore a beatific smile. I turned the card to see my mother’s even, slanted script. Forgive me. I brought the card to my cheek, needing to feel her written words against my bare skin.
Dad cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee that must’ve been stone cold. “I was surely mad as hell at her for leaving us,” he said. “But when I sit with the truth of it, ending her life was the only way she was to find an end to her pain. I don’t know about the ways of God, but it seems any compassionate Creator would understand and extend His mercy.”
Nausea crawled through my belly and my eyes burned. I wanted to cry, but no tears would come. Slapped into awareness, I scooted my way out of the booth.
“But Kitten,” my dad said. “There’s so much more to talk to you about.”
“It’s okay,” I sighed, looking around the table. “I understand.” I leaned down and hugged my dad, then Alice, and reached across the table to touch Dr. Schwartz’s hand.
“Sit with us just a while longer,” my dad pleaded. “There’s more.”
“No, Daddy. I’ve want to go find Tully and thank him for taking such good care of my mother.”
“Katie,” Alice said, her voice sharp and pointed. “Please. I have so much more I want to say to you.”
I stood. “I understand. I understand it all. Why you didn’t tell me. Why Tully still cries when we talk about Mother. I just want to go find him.” As I exited the bar, all I heard was Alice’s voice, saying, “But Katie—“ as the door swung closed behind me.
* * *
“Ooh Katie, he’s over the moon for you,” Alice cooed while we stood at the end of the bar watching Dad pull Jake a thickheaded beer. So much had happened in the two weeks since I’d listened to my family’s explanations about my mother’s death. “The way he looks at you. I’ve never seen you so happy,” she said.
“I am happy.” I was surprised by how easily the words came. The dark cloud of my distance from Mary K was the only remaining shadow. I’d returned to the flat to gather some things, avoiding the times when she might be home. I’d left a check for my half of the rent and utilities.
A sudden burst of laughter erupted from the bar where Jake stood with Tully, Dad, and Dr. Schwartz. “They’re like a bunch of boys, aren’t they?” I said to Alice.
“If you think they ever grow up, I never taught you a thing, honey.” Alice smiled and nudged me with her shoulder.
Alice’s eyes shimmered. “Thanks for finding Tully. He belongs here with us.” Her mouth opened, then she brought her fingers to her lips as if to stop her words from coming out.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, honey. I’m just so glad you’re here with us. The last weeks have been so—” Mascara-black tears spilled. “Will you look at me. Blubbering fool.”
In the bar that night, it seemed that the jagged edges of the truth about my mother had been wrapped in cotton batting: still sharp, but no longer dangerous.
Alice nudged my shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with this one, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“It shows all over your face—and his.”
“It feels exhilarating, but scary, too.”
“Real love is like flying the trapeze without a net, honey. Exciting, but terrifying. I don’t know any other way to do it though.”
Another crack of laughter exploded from the bar. Dad doubled over, holding his sides. Jake wiped tears. Dr. Schwartz bobbed with an inaudible cackle. Alice nudged me with her elbow. “We’d better get over there. No telling what those boys are up to without a woman around to set them straight.”
“Yeah, let’s go spoil their fun.”
As we approached, their laughter wound down to exhausted sighs. “And just what are you rascals hooting about over here? I thought you were going to raise the roof,” Alice sc
olded.
The men exchanged sheepish looks. Dad straightened up, tucking in his chin. “Jake here brought fortune cookies, that’s all.”
“Fortune cookies are not that funny,” Alice scolded. “What, are they dirty ones?” She snatched a cookie from the bag on the bar and cracked it open. “Don’t be afraid of your wild side,” she read.
Tully’s giggling started them all off again.
Alice folded her arms in front of her chest. “What’s so funny about that?”
Jake pressed his palm to his chest. “Just a parlor game, Alice. Something some guys in an Australian bar taught me. You add the words ‘in the sack’ to whatever you read on the cookie.”
“My turn,” Tully said, taking a fortune cookie from the bag. “Let’s see now, this should be good. Tully looked at the white tag, ‘You are a great—’” He stopped, his face looking angry, and crumpled up the paper.
“Come on now,” Dad said, snatching the paper from Tully’s hand. “You are a great lover of animals,” he read. The group burst out in a new roar of laughter.
“Ah, shut up, all of you,” Tully barked. “You sound like a bunch of old ladies.”
Dr. Schwartz held his chest and took off his glasses. “Ooh,” he sighed. “I don’t know if my old heart can take much more.”
I felt myself smile, not at the silly game, but at the easy camaraderie Jake found with the men of my family.
“This pub is fantastic, Mr. Murphy,” Jake said. “Like you moved a bit of Ireland across the pond. Reminds me of a place Burt loves in Australia. He lives in New York now. Says there’s not a real pub in the whole city. I can’t wait for him to see this.”
“It’s just home to us,” Dad said.
Jake turned to Alice. “So you must have been quite a bit younger than your sister.”
Alice’s brows twisted in confusion. “I don’t have a sister.”
“Alice and my mother were close friends, not sisters.”
“Just as good as,” Alice added.
“Oh, I just assumed—” Jake’s expression was hard to read, but he replaced it with a polite smile.
Dad refilled his coffee cup from the carafe on the table. “You’re a lucky man, Jake. Going to all of them exotic locations. Seeing all of the beautiful nooks and crannies of God’s creation. Why I’m convinced that there are shades of green that can only be seen in Ireland. I’m sure such treasures are unique to all kinds of places on this earth.”
Jake stepped toward me and put his arm around my waist. He gave me a look and I replied with a nod. “Speaking of trips to exotic locations, I’ve got a terrific one coming up. I’m headed to Japan. I’ve been commissioned to have one of my sculptures cast in bronze for placement in Ueno Park in Tokyo. That’s where they hold the largest and most beautiful of the cherry blossom festivals, Mr. Murphy. I’ve heard how much you admire flowers.”
“Oh the Prunus serrulata. Nothing prettier,” Dad gleamed.
“I was just telling your young man that I’d seen his sand sculptures in Santa Barbara a few years ago, Katherine,” Dr. Schwartz said. “Exquisite. And my niece gave me one of the books of photographs of his work for Hanukah last year. Isn’t that a coincidence? Your work is extraordinary, Jacob.”
“My friend, Burt, photographs the work,” Jake said. “He’ll be in Japan, too. I’ve designed something special for the town of Kamakura. At the site of the Great Buddha.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the gardens of Japan,” Dad said. “Everyone should grab their chance at seeing the world.”
“I agree, Mr. Murphy. That’s why I’m so glad Kat has agreed to go along.”
Everyone’s eyes found me like searchlights on an escapee. “Katie!” Alice cried.
Words poured out of me in a scatter. “It’s the perfect time. I’ve got a few more weeks until my residency. It’s been so long since I had any time off. I’ve never really been anywhere and—look!” I pulled my new passport from my purse. “Jake’s administrative assistant in New York expedited a passport.”
My dad’s eyebrows drew close to each other. “But Japan. Kitten, that’s half a world away.”
“Don’t worry, it’s safe,” I said.
“Katie, you haven’t even been out of the country since you were an infant,” Dad said. He turned to Jake. “She was born in Ireland. Did she tell you that? But she’s never traveled since.”
“All the more reason to go. Like you said, there’s a whole world to see.”
An uneasy silence replaced the sparkling laughter of only moments before. “You’re not jeopardizing your position at the hospital by leaving, are you?”
“No, Daddy. Of course not,” I reassured him, “I’ve worked it all out.”
Dad looked deep into my eyes, searching for something. “There you have it.” His words were clipped.
“Dad, I—”
“I think your dad has reservations about you going so far away with someone he’s just met. Someone you’ve not known for very long,” Jake said.
Dad looked up, his face wearing surprise at being so easily read. I knew the feeling.
“I’d feel the same way about a daughter of mine. Perhaps you would like to talk privately.” Jake took his arm from my shoulder and tapped Tully on the arm. “Dr. Schwartz, why don’t you and Tully join me at the backgammon table? I imagine you can teach me a few moves.” Jake winked at me and left me there with Dad and Alice.
I turned to my dad. “Is that it?”
“We’ve only just met Jake. And now you’re telling us you’re going to another country together? It’s all so fast.”
“You and Mother went from Ireland to France a month after you met.”
“We were married, Katie. And her father nearly turned the dogs on me anyway. This is the first young man you’ve ever introduced to us. I just think you should know him better before you go gallivanting around the globe.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say that we’d essentially been living together since we’d met. “I know Jake. And just five minutes ago you seemed to like him fine.”
“He seems like a nice lad. That’s different than trusting him to take my daughter a world away.”
“I’m ten years older than my mother was when you married her.” I looked to Alice for backup, but her face seemed frozen in a shocked expression.
“He comes from a world you know nothing about, Kitten. Money and private jets. His father is—well, a different breed from people like us. People that don’t know what it is to wait for what they want, put their shoulder to the wheel.”
“He’s got nothing to do with his father,” I whispered, not wanting Jake to overhear. “He’s not like that. And if you want to know the truth, it was Jake that talked me into reconnecting with you in the first place. He said I was being stubborn and judgmental. I can’t imagine where I learned that.” I wasn’t asking permission. This seemed like an argument a teenager would have with her parents.
“Katie,” Alice said. Her voice stopped me. “You’re acting like a child.”
“I didn’t act like a child when I was a child. Don’t you think it’s about time I actually had a little fun?”
“This is more than fun, I can see it in your eyes,” Dad said.
“Angus!” Alice’s voice was as sharp as a shard of glass.
Dad looked up at her and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Your choices are yours to make. This one just isn’t like you.”
“I’m happy, Dad. Be happy with me.” I ached to have my family fall in love with Jake as I had. “I know it seems fast. But we’re not children. Haven’t I earned the right to have you trust my judgment?”
“I’m always happy when you are, darlin’.” He looked back at Alice. “It’s your family’s job to worry about you. That’s all. I suppose it’s time for us to respect you as the grown woman you’ve become.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” I said.
Alice placed her warm hand on my shoulder. “We are happy for you, sweetheart.”
Dad put his hand out to shake Jake’s. When Jake clasped his hand, I saw my dad’s thick hand squeeze Jake’s thinner one and hold on. His voice softened to a whisper. “You’re taking some precious cargo on this trip and it’s a mighty long way from home. You’ll take care of our Katie now, won’t you, Jake?” It was clear that my father was not making a request but issuing a threat.
Jake returned my father’s handshake. “Don’t worry, Mr. Murphy. I work with priceless art every day. I know precious things require great care.”
Dad gave a single nod. “There it is, then.”
“When do you leave?” Alice asked.
I cringed. “Day after tomorrow.”
Dr. Schwartz lifted his glass of cognac. His voice was feathery thin. “Then we barely have time to raise a glass and wish you well,” he said. He stood, leaning on his cane. His head came only to my shoulder now that he had grown so hunched. “To our Katherine, all grown up. And to our new friend, Jacob. A wonderful adventure to you both.”
My dad looked at me from across the group, his lips smiling but his eyes wearing worry. His brows twitched a little as he raised his mug. “And here’s to coming home,” he said. “The most precious part of every journey.”
“Well said, Angus,” Dr. Schwartz said, patting my dad’s shoulder. “Well said.”
Love Nest
Jake was to have three installations in Japan. One was a simple ceremony, unveiling an enormous bronze piece commissioned by the Japanese Arts Council. It had been cast from one of his original sculptures back in the States, completed over a year before, and shipped to Tokyo. This work was inspired by one of Jake’s nature sculptures that a senior executive at Sony had seen Jake create in Australia. Jake dismissed it as “a tombstone for an already dead piece of art.” The second installation was to be a more organic, temporary sculpture in the tranquil gardens near the Great Buddha in Kamakura. About this installation, Jake talked almost nonstop. Burt’s negotiation and Jake’s reputation had created an unprecedented opportunity to create an art experience near the holy shrine. And then there was the third installation, about which I knew virtually nothing. All I knew was that it would be far off in the remote Japanese countryside.
Fire & Water Page 9
