Irises (34 page)

Mary rested in Marcos's presence, in the thought of Mrs. Fresquez and Renata, in knowing she was not alone. And in t
he midst
of that comfort she found a seed of peace. She lean
ed slightly
to her left and her shoulder touched Marcos's shoulder.

Mary began to draw a second iris. Kate was full of feeling toward life, toward the future. It was the way Mary once felt about her painting: an openness, a freedom, the kind of hope she sometimes felt in front of a blank canvas, where everything was possibility. They both wanted to do something with their lives. They both wanted to give. They were sisters. They were their father's daughters. They were their mother's daughters. She was of the same kind as Kate. How close to her she felt just now, now of all times. They were alike and they were different, like the two irises she had just drawn.

She sat like that, next to Marcos, bathed in the quiet of the church until the sun went down.

“I better go home,” she said.

Marcos took the drawing of the irises. “It's beautiful,”
he said
.

“Thank you,” she answered. She started to get up.

“Can I walk you home?”

She sat down again. It took a long time for her to answer.

“Okay,” she said, and then, after a pause, “I want you to meet my sister.”

 

M
ary sat on a canvas chair, the easel in front of her. She was painting the lemon tree behind Aunt Julia's house. It had rained earlier in the day and the air was cool. The door opened and Kate stepped out.

“Wow! You're almost done,” she said.

“Almost.” Mary continued painting.

“Can I join you?” Kate asked.

“Sure,” Mary answered. Kate brought a green patio chair and sat down next to her.

Sound came from Aunt Julia's bedroom. “Aunt Julia likes to nap with the television on,” Kate said.

Mary smiled. “She falls asleep with it at night also.”

A yellow finch perched on one of the branches of the lemon tree. Mary and Kate were silent. The finch twisted its head to look at them and then flew away. “It's nice out here, isn't it?” Kate said.

“It reminds me of our yard back home.”

“Do you miss El Paso?”

“I miss Renata and . . .”

“Marcos.” Kate completed Mary's sentence. Mary blushed and smiled all at once. “Is he still coming to visit?”

“I was waiting to see how Aunt Julia's checkup turned out. He wants to come for Thanksgiving. He'll only stay for t
wo days
.”

“I'm sure Aunt Julia will be okay with that. You and I can sleep together and he can have the other guest room. Now that I'm more settled in school, I'm going to try to come on weekends.”

“You don't have to. I'm sure you have lots of studyin
g to do
.“

“But I can study here just as easily as I can in my dorm or in the library.”

“Aunt Julia's TV doesn't bother you?”

“No, I like a little background noise.”

Kate watched Mary paint for a few minutes, then she took a deep breath. She spoke slowly, deliberately. “Today is the anniversary of Mother's death.”

Mary put her paintbrush and palette down and stared at her feet. “I know,” she said.

“Are you okay?”

There was a pause and then Mary answered. “I'm okay.”

Kate leaned forward and took her sister's hand. “This is not the right word, but I'm grateful to you. I don't think I would have gone through with it if you had been against it.”

Mary pulled her hand gently away and placed it on her lap. “I'm at peace with everything. It took a long time for me to get to that place, but I did. Thank you for waiting, for giving me that time.”

“Sometimes I look at you and you seem so sad.”

“I miss Mama. I miss Papa too. I don't feel guilty or have doubts, but I do miss them.”

“I miss them too.” Kate tucked her hands under her legs.

“Are you okay?” Mary's voice was kind. “You seem worried. Do you have doubts?”

“Not doubts, exactly, but all kinds of images run through my
mind. Maybe Mother suffered when we disconnected her from her feeding tube. Maybe, in her own way, she felt hunger and thirst. I guess it's normal to have those thoughts.”

“Dr. Rulfo did all he could to make sure Mama wouldn't suffer. He said she didn't. Kate, Mama's in heaven with Papa. I believe she's alive right now in a way she wasn't before. I am certain about it. Aren't you?”

“My faith is not as strong as yours. It never has been.”

“Maybe you have faith and you don't even know it. You want to make something good of yourself, you want to be useful. That takes faith. You told me once that it was Mama's dream that you go to Stanford. And now you're going there and you're doing it for Mama. Aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that's faith. You believe she's watching you, and yo
u believe
she's with you now, even if you don't say it out
loud like
I do.”

Kate shook her head. “How did you get so smart all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean, all of a sudden?”

They smiled.

“I think I hear Aunt Julia snoring,” Kate said. “I better go cover her up. You coming?”

“I'll be right in,” Mary said. “I want to work a little longer.”

Mary picked up the brush. She gazed at the tree and waited. Then she saw a soft light shine among the leaves. And she painted.

 

 

Acknowledgments

I want to thank my faithful agent, Faye Bender, for all her help throughout these long years. I am grateful to Anna Stork for sharing with me her valuable insights into the minds of young women. Most of all, I am indebted to my editor, Cheryl B. Klein. This is a book that came into being thanks to her loving attention.

 

 

 

Text copyright © 2012 by Francisco X. Stork

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Stork, Francisco X.
Irises / by Francisco X. Stork. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Kate, eighteen, and Mary, sixteen, must make some adult decisions about the course their lives should take when their loving but old-fashioned father dies suddenly, leaving them with their mother, who has been in a persistent vegetative state since an accident four years earlier.
ISBN 978-0-545-15135-1 (hardcover : alk. paper) [1. Coma — Fiction. 2. Sisters — Fiction. 3. Death — Fiction. 4. Identity — Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.S88442Ir 2012
[Fic] — dc23
2011023798

First edition, January 2012

Photography by Yolande de Kort/Trevillion Images
Jacket design by Christopher Stengel

e-ISBN 978-0-545-39263-1

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