“I have to acknowledge that Rose is sicker than I thought,” Callie said.
“That was always a possibility, wasn’t it?”
“Like Zee says, it’s denial. And what was that bit about Rose staying at the boathouse? How could that ever work?” Callie asked, confused.
“That was an interesting offer to say the least,” Paul said.
Now Callie’s mood took a dive. “I don’t want to think about you going back to Italy.”
“Let’s not think about that today.”
Neither of them wanted to go back to Pride’s Heart right away. Instead, Paul had Emily’s driver take them over to Nahant, stopping at the old fort, where the ocean view opened up all the way to the Boston skyline.
They didn’t get back until after eight. “Come to the boathouse?”
“I think I’ll check on your mother first.”
Paul walked her to the door but didn’t go inside. “My father’s not ill,” he said. “He’s just being cruel. He wanted Marta to come to dinner, and when she refused, he played sick. He doesn’t care how my mother feels about the whole thing. He never has. I’m afraid of what I might say if I run into him.”
“I’m guessing it’s not ‘Merry Christmas.’?”
“No, definitely not ‘Merry Christmas.’?”
Callie found Emily in the orangerie.
“Where’s Paul?” Emily asked.
“He went back to the boathouse,” Callie said. “He’s trying to avoid Finn.”
“Smart boy.” Emily closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she looked directly at Callie. “I’m not afraid of dying, you know.”
Callie was shocked—especially since Emily was doing so much better.
“I don’t think we need to talk about you dying.”
“Oh, my dear,” Emily replied, sinking farther into the downy cushions of the couch. “We both know how this thing is going to end.”
With cancer, death was always a possibility. But it wasn’t something Callie saw on Emily. She’d been fooled before, of course. There were patients she’d thought she was helping who’d succumbed more rapidly than she’d expected, but Emily didn’t seem like one of them. Ever since the day Callie had lifted her pain, Emily had been looking better and better. Today, sitting on the couch, she seemed the picture of health.
“I’ll tell you what I am afraid of.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m afraid of leaving my son unfinished.”
“?‘Unfinished.’?” The word resonated as odd. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Children of privilege,” Emily said, “confuse having resources with being resourceful. I’m afraid for my son. I’m not sure he has the…survival skills he’s going to need. He’s a good man,” Emily continued. “Any faults he might have come from his youth and privilege. Which is my fault, and Finn’s, not his.”
That Emily believed she was going to die soon bothered Callie in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Somehow, in the past weeks, she’d come to feel really attached to the woman. It was the same way she’d felt about her first foster mother. Callie didn’t want to remember how that had ended.
The oaks take their rest only during the winter months. Winter is the only time it is possible to forget the loss of those they loved.
—ROSE’S Book of Trees
“I don’t know why you’re so happy,” Towner said. “A storm this big is going to create more trouble for you than the exhumation would have.”
The exhumation of the Goddesses had been scheduled for January 27. Now it was delayed because of heavy snow. When they could reschedule was anyone’s guess. Take that, you old biddy, Rafferty said silently to Helen. Maybe Rose does have a bit of magic about her, he thought. She’s certainly got the weather behind her.
Rafferty had caught the four o’clock AA meeting at the Methodist church, then picked up Chinese takeout and walked back to the coach house. Towner had already lit the fire and was setting up for s’mores. They had planned to watch a movie Rafferty liked, a rare copy of an old favorite that Towner had bought him for Christmas, but, in the time it had taken him to get home, the electricity had gone out.
“I love a good snowstorm, don’t you?” she said.
“I love you,” he said, leaning down to kiss her neck.
They’d spent Christmas through New Year’s with his daughter, Leah, in Nyack, New York. Leah had a new boyfriend and now answered to the name Lee.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she’d said to Rafferty. She’d always been uncomfortable with her name, so different from those of all her friends, the Brittanys and Amandas she went to school with. When she was a kid, she’d looked up the derivation. “Do you know what it means?” she’d demanded. “It literally means ‘weary’ or ‘exhausted.’ Plus it’s a Jewish name, which would be fine except that we’re not even Jewish.”
“It’s an Old Testament name,” he’d explained. They’d talked about it for a long time, with Rafferty explaining how Leah was the wife of Jacob, the mother of seven of his children. His explanation did nothing to appease his twelve-year-old.
He’d had some vacation weeks to either use or lose, and it had been the perfect getaway. After Nyack, instead of going into the city as planned, they’d ended up at a B and B near Sleepy Hollow. The escape had done Rafferty a world of good. It was a romantic week, long dinners by candlelight, no interruptions. On the second day, Towner had taken his hand. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time now,” she’d said. “I just never knew quite how to say it. That time we were separated?”
“What about it?”
“I was never unfaithful to you,” she’d said. “I never slept with anyone else. I know you thought I did.”
There was a lot that still remained unsaid between them about that time. What Towner had told him was the last thing he expected to hear.
“I just thought you should know.”
She’d looked at Rafferty curiously. If she’d expected relief on his part, he knew that wasn’t what his face was showing. “Thank you for telling me” was all he could manage to say.
They hadn’t talked about it again in the weeks they’d been back but instead had settled into the welcome routine of New England’s inevitable winter. The snows were late this year, which made some people feel almost giddy, as if they were getting away with something. Others, like Rafferty, knew this wasn’t a good sign. The delay only meant that, when the snows finally fell, they would fall with a vengeance.
Now she laughed and kissed him. “You smell like snow.”