The Mill River Redemption

by Darcie Chan

  “Em—” Rose said, but Emily kept going.

  “How many more are there?” Emily returned to the suitcase and began throwing clothes out onto the floor. She found two more bottles of liquor and held them out toward her sister.

  “You have a drinking problem, Rose. You do, don’t try to deny it. I know, even though you’re good at hiding it.”

  “I don’t have a drinking problem.” Her voice was defensive, haughty. “Sure, I have a few drinks now and then to take the edge off, but that’s no big deal. I’m a bartender, for God’s sake. I know exactly what people with real drinking problems are like.”

  “Do you see these?” Emily screamed at Rose. She thrust the liquor bottles in her sister’s face. “Do you see? Because of these, you killed somebody.” Then, with all her strength, Emily hurled the bottles just as she had the first.

  Rose flinched as the glass shattered and the whiskey they had contained began to form dark rivulets down the ivory-colored wall, but she didn’t speak. Emily was shaking so violently that she could barely get her words out.

  “Have you ever loved anybody more than yourself? Anybody at all? I have. Mom, and Aunt Ivy, and you. And Andy.” Her voice broke as she said his name. “He was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never loved anyone like that before, and I know he felt the same about me. He was my future. And you took his life and mine in your hands and threw them away, just like you do your empty booze bottles. You know something, Rose? It should’ve been you that died in that car. It should’ve been you, and I wish now that it had been. So, you can just go to hell. It’s where you belong.”

  Emily lunged for the door. Her mother was midway up the stairs when she rushed past.

  “Emily? I heard glass breaking. What’s going on? Where are you going?”

  “To get some air. And I’m going back up to school tonight, if Ivy’ll drive me.”

  “What? Why do you want to leave? Is your sister all right?”

  “Ask her yourself,” Emily said. “But she’s not my sister anymore.”

  CHAPTER 29

  CLAUDIA WAS DRESSED AND READY TO LEAVE HER HOUSE when her phone rang.

  Her bubble bath the night before, followed by a good night’s sleep and an intense run on the treadmill, had done wonders. She felt buoyant and energetic, and her mood was boosted even further by the sound of Kyle’s voice on the phone.

  “Hey, beautiful, are you feeling any better than you were last night?”

  “Yeah, I am,” she said, smiling into the receiver. “I felt fine when I woke up this morning, and I was just heading out for a bit. I thought I’d grab some coffee at Ruth’s and then head into Rutland to see if I could find a few new things to wear for work. The summer clothes are going on clearance.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he said. “Well, as fun as shopping can be, I guess. Better than sitting in an office or a patrol car.”

  “True,” she said. “I’ll give you a call this evening, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she said as she smiled again. “Bye.”

  She walked out the door, but it felt more like she was floating on cloud nine.

  WITH HER LITTLE GRAY DOG WATCHING FROM HIS USUAL POSITION on a kitchen chair, Daisy Delaine put the final touches on a gift basket of produce and sweets. Vegetables from her garden, chocolate chip cookies made from scratch, and homemade strawberry preserves were nestled in the basket’s cloth lining.

  “How does it look, Smudgie?” she asked the little dog as she positioned the items in the basket. “Won’t Miss Rose be surprised by our basket? The veggies are perfect and the cookies are oh-so-delicious, even if I do say so myself!” Smudgie barked and wagged his tail.

  The two unpleasant encounters she’d had with Miss Rose might have deterred others from any further attempts at smoothing things over, but Daisy had decided to try one last time. She ripped a blank page from an old notebook and scribbled a simple apology. Then, she folded the note and tucked it into the center of the basket between two large tomatoes.

  “We can only do our best, can’t we, Smudgie? That’s what Father O’Brien always says.” Daisy picked up the little dog and hugged him close. “I hope Miss Rose believes me. I really am so sorry,” she whispered in his ear.

  CARRYING A WRAPPED PACKAGE IDENTICAL TO THE ONE HE HAD given Emily, Father O’Brien found himself walking more and more slowly as he approached Rose DiSanti’s house. True, he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he was about to attempt, but he slowed his gait more because he was contemplating exactly how he should explain the reason for his unexpected visit. As he neared the corner and the side of her house came into view, he decided that the best approach would be his usual one—simple, gentle, and straightforward, with unflinching honesty.

  The door opened quickly after he knocked, but he was surprised to be greeted by Alex.

  “Hi, Father,” the boy said.

  “Good morning, Alex. Is your mother home? I wondered if I might visit with her for a few minutes.”

  “Who is it, Alex?” Rose’s voice called from inside the house, and before the child could answer, Father O’Brien heard footsteps and the door opened wider.

  “Oh, hello, Father,” Rose said. “What a surprise. I didn’t know you’d be coming by.”

  “I realize that, and I apologize for not calling ahead,” he told her. “Ivy invited me for lunch today, but I’m running a few minutes early, so I thought I’d swing by to say hello while I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Oh, well, come in, then,” she said, but it was obvious by the tone of her voice that she wasn’t thrilled to have company.

  Alex looked up at him and then at his mother. “I’m going back up to my room, okay, Mom?”

  Rose nodded, and Alex cleared out in a hurry.

  “Please sit down,” Rose said, motioning to an armchair. “I just poured myself a Coke. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Thank you, no,” he said. Father O’Brien lowered himself carefully into the chair and placed the wrapped package on his lap. Rose sat down on the end of the couch farthest from him. He saw that she had a bruise around one of her eyes, and she noticed that he noticed.

  “I tripped in the night and fell against my bed,” she said, touching her eye lightly.

  “I wondered about that,” he admitted. “But, it’s good that it’s healing up.” He looked away from her and glanced around. There were stacks of boxes and extra pieces of furniture in the room, arranged in such a way as to leave paths where people could walk or reach those furnishings that were actually being used. It was, he imagined, almost like being inside an ant farm.

  “So, how’ve things been at the church, Father?” Rose asked. She took a sip of her drink, staring at him over the top of her glass.

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “It’s still a small, friendly congregation. I sure do miss seeing your mother there, though, and you girls, too, even after all these years.”

  “I know Mom enjoyed the services there,” Rose said. “She liked everything about Mill River, especially how close the people are.”

  “Yes. I expect it’s a very different place from New York in that way. It’s easy to get lost in such a big city.”

  “Mmm.” Rose pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, and he couldn’t tell whether she was agreeing with him or merely trying to avoid saying something unpleasant. He decided to push onward.

  “Your mother was always worried about you being there,” he told Rose. “She knew how it was in the city, you know.”

  “I know. She grew up in the Bronx,” Rose said. “Father, I don’t mean to be rude, but I keep getting the feeling that you’re not just here to make polite conversation.”

  Father O’Brien drew a deep breath. “Well, that’s true. I’m here partly because I’m wondering how you and your sister are doing with your mother’s last directive. From what I’ve heard, things don’t seem to be going too well.”

 
; “Ivy obviously put you up to visiting me. I should’ve known.”

  “Actually, I offered to speak with you, and she accepted my offer. That you and Emily haven’t been following your mother’s instructions is only one of the things she’s worried about.”

  Rose sighed. “We’re doing the best we can, Father. At least, I am. What my sister is doing is really not something I waste time worrying about. In fact, I can’t stand the sight of her, so I try to avoid her as much as I can. There’s still more than a month before Mom’s deadline for finding her key, and these houses are hardly mansions. We will find it. You and Ivy needn’t worry.”

  Father O’Brien nodded. “All right.” He took the wrapped package from his lap and held it out to her. “I also told Ivy that I’d bring this to you. It’s from your mother, something she wanted Ivy to give to you at the appropriate time.”

  “From my mother?” Rose reached forward to accept the package, her expression wary, almost disbelieving. “What is it?”

  Father O’Brien shrugged. “I couldn’t say, but I’m sure you’ll want to open it in private.”

  Rose looked down at the package in her hand and chewed on her bottom lip.

  “There’s one last thing I wanted to talk with you about,” Father O’Brien said. “It’s a sensitive subject, but I’m going to be completely open with you. Your aunt Ivy is convinced that you’re drinking quite a bit, Rose. She’s afraid for you, and Alex, that it’s spiraling out of control.”

  Rose’s face snapped up and her eyes flashed. “I do NOT have a drinking problem, Father, and I take excellent care of my son. I always have.”

  “Your son seems very well cared for,” he countered evenly, “but you do have a drinking problem, Rose, just as sure as Coke isn’t the only thing in that glass you’ve got there. I know you’ve struggled with alcohol for a long time, ever since the accident.” He watched as Rose rolled her eyes and looked away. “There are people who are ready and willing to help you, but you have to admit you have a problem and ask for help first.”

  “Father, I do not need help, and I’m not about to sit here and listen to this,” Rose said, jumping up off the couch. “Maybe you’ve known my family since I was young, and maybe you were good friends with my mother, but you really don’t know me. Not at all. You can’t just come into my home and accuse me of being a … an alcoholic … and neglecting my child.”

  “No one has said you neglect your child.” Father O’Brien worked hard to keep his voice low and soothing. “And as for the drinking, I’m just stating a fact, as difficult as it is for you to hear. Any kind of addiction is hard to admit, I know.”

  “You know?” Rose asked. “You know how? Through your excellent armchair diagnosis?”

  “Of course I’m not a physician, Rose,” he said. “But I do have a very good idea of what you’re dealing with. I’ve counseled many, many people with addictions … and I’m an addict myself.” Father O’Brien paused after his last statement. He hadn’t planned on openly stating that truth; indeed, it was the first time he had done so in decades. It had just slipped out, and now he waited to see Rose’s reaction.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You’re an addict?”

  He nodded solemnly. Rose’s eyes narrowed, and he couldn’t tell whether she was genuinely confused or trying to suppress a smile.

  “Well, what’s your poison, Father? Or is it a drug of some kind? Or maybe caffeine?”

  “None of those, actually. I’m addicted to … stealing. Spoons, in particular. Although I’m currently in recovery.”

  Rose’s mouth fell open. She stared at him for a few moments and then burst into laughter. “You’re a priest and a … recovering spoon addict? That’s hysterical, Father, really. Maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll be sure and lock up my flatware the next time you stop by.” She continued to chuckle until she realized that he wasn’t laughing or even smiling.

  “It’s not at all funny to me, Rose,” he said. “Stealing anything compulsively is a very serious problem, just like yours is. You may not be prepared to acknowledge it yet, but I want you to think about what I’ve told you, and I want you to know that I face a similar struggle every day. So many times, an addict, particularly someone who is addicted to alcohol or drugs, doesn’t ask for help until something awful happens. He or she ends up getting hurt or hurts someone else.” Father O’Brien softened the tone of his voice even further, until he was almost pleading. “The accident all those years ago was enough tragedy for a lifetime, don’t you think? I came here this afternoon because I don’t want anything else, any other horrible thing, to happen to you, Rose, and neither does Ivy. But we can’t help you unless you’re willing to help yourself.”

  Rose clenched her jaw and remained silent.

  Father O’Brien rose from his chair. “I’ll see myself out.” As he reached the front door, he turned back to look at Rose. She was still standing there, biting her lip again, with a pensive expression on her face. “Please think about what I’ve told you, and know that I’m one of those people who are ready to help you,” he said to her. “You are in my prayers.”

  WITH FATHER O’BRIEN SAFELY OUT OF HER LIVING ROOM AND HER glass refilled, Rose sat down on the sofa and ripped the paper from the package he’d brought. The book of Shakespeare’s plays inside was stiff and new, unlike the old copy her mother had used to induce sleep over the years.

  Why would Mom want me to have this? Rose wondered. She flipped it open and removed a small photo that had been tucked within the pages. It was a picture of her and Emily as very young children nestled together on a beanbag in The Bookstop. They had a large picture book spread open across both their laps, and Emily was leaning against her shoulder with a pacifier in her mouth. She realized that the photo must have been taken soon after their arrival in Mill River.

  A bright yellow caught her eye, and Rose turned her attention to the pages marked by the photo. A short passage from Hamlet had been highlighted.

  To thine own self be true,

  And it must follow, as the night the day,

  Thou canst not then be false to any man.

  “Really, Mom?” Rose said aloud. Angry tears began to dribble out of her eyes, and she glanced wildly up at the ceiling and around the room, trying to decide where to direct her voice. “Do you really think I don’t try to do that? Do you not know that I wake up every day, every fucking day, and think about what I am, and what I’ve done, and how I can never go back and change things, even though I’d give anything for that chance?”

  She slammed the book shut and threw it across the room. The photo that she had removed from it slipped from her fingers and fell, landing on the carpet facedown. Only then did she notice the familiar, elegant handwriting on the back of it. She plucked the picture off the floor and held it up to read.

  Rose, it is never too late for a fresh start. It takes strength, bravery, humility, and a real desire to change, but it is never too late. You are and have always been capable of great things. I believe in you, and I love you. Mom

  CHAPTER 30

  2011

  “MOM, I NEED SOME MORE HANGERS,” EMILY SAID. “ARE there extras in your closet? The shirts in the dryer are almost done, and I don’t want them to get wrinkled.”

  “Goodness, Em, you didn’t come all the way from San Francisco to do my laundry!”

  “I know, but it was piled up in your room. I figured I’d help out, since you’ve had a rough week.”

  Josie sighed and turned from the living room window. “I did, and I appreciate it, sweetie. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Me doing laundry, you mean? Or you working too much?”

  “Both.” Josie smiled as Emily rolled her eyes. “There are plenty of hangers in the closet. Help yourself.”

  Emily had just gone back upstairs when a car door slammed outside. Josie jumped up, took a deep breath, and slipped out the front door.

  “Hey, Mom,” Rose said as she climbed out of a shiny maroon BMW parked
along the curb. She pushed her sunglasses back onto her head and smiled.

  “Oh, Rosie, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” Josie walked to her older daughter and caught her up in a long embrace. “You’re a little late. Was traffic bad?”

  “It always sucks getting out of the city, but once I got into Westchester, it was a breeze.”

  “Well, you’re here now. Let’s go in. I’ve got some cold lemonade in the fridge.” Josie was tempted to pull Rose by the arm, but her hands were so cold and clammy that she decided against it. Instead, she held the door open as her daughter maneuvered a small suitcase inside.

  “Come sit down, honey,” she said as she motioned Rose into the kitchen.

  “Just let me stand a minute or two, Mom. I’ve been cramped up in the car for hours. I was going to hit a rest stop along the way, but since I was running late—”

  Rose stopped speaking as the rapid thumping of someone descending the stairs sounded through the house. Her mouth opened slightly as she turned and saw Emily approaching the entrance to the kitchen.

  “What is she doing here?” Rose whirled around and made eye contact with her before turning back to Emily.

  “Mom? What’s going on?” Emily held a cluster of clothes hangers in each hand. She stopped and started to backpedal as she stared at Rose.

  “Girls, please, please, listen to me for a minute,” Josie said. “Now that you’re both here, I just want—”

  “You want what?” Rose said. “For us to kiss and make up? God, I don’t believe this.”