The Girls on Rose Hill (12 page)

Chapter 12

Ellen

Sister Elizabeth held out a pack of cigarettes. "Do you want one?"

"You smoke?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I'm the smoking nun. Let me know if you see Nurse Collins, she's a devil for enforcing the rules."

It was nice to know I wasn't the only black sheep at St. Francis. "I will. Did you and my mother sneak ciggies in the convent?"

"Even I'm not that brave. Your mother was a wizard at smuggling in chocolates and chewing gum. I still don't know how she did it. Mother Superior was very strict, especially with the first year postulants. No, I picked up this particular bad habit when I worked as a social worker in San Francisco. But hey, it was the 60s, I could've done a lot worse."

"Bad habits in a convent?"

"Believe me, there were plenty of bad habits to go around. Put twenty women together and you're sure to see plenty. Gossip, petty fights, spitefulness. My smoking was a minor offense. At least now I'm not wearing a habit, so I just look like another nicotine addict. You should've seen the looks I got when I was wearing the penguin suit. Sure I can't tempt you?"

"I'm sure. My neighbor convinced me to ride on a motorcycle and drink a pitcher of beer last night, so I think that's enough decadence for this week." I didn't feel the need to disclose the middle-aged make-out session to the good sister.

"Sounds like fun." Sister Elizabeth blew a ring of smoke.

I laughed. "Now you're just showing off."

"I know. I'm an awful show off. Always have been. I'm the youngest of eight, so I had to do something to stand out."

"Becoming a nun wasn't enough?"

She smiled. "Oh no. They barely noticed I was gone. Well, that's not really true. My mother didn't think I'd last a week so she didn't bother to throw me a going away party. She barely said goodbye. No one thought I'd make it, not even Mother Superior. It wasn't always easy, especially after I took my final vows. I was the youngest nun in the convent by at least twenty years and the older nuns were awful to me."

I shifted my weight to get comfortable on the hard bench. "Did you ever think of dropping out?"

"Oh, all the time, especially that first year at Our Lady of Angels." She dragged on the cigarette. "I swear I wouldn't have made it through the first three months if it wasn't for Rosie. I cried for my mother every night. And I was always getting into trouble. Did your mother tell you how I had latrine duty for a solid year?"

"Latrine duty? Sounds like the army."

"Sometimes it felt like the army too. Except that in the army you at least get a night's leave. Convent life back then was 24-7. But, you must know that. I'm sure your mother told you."

"No. She never talked about it. But then again, she's good at keeping secrets."

Sister Elizabeth gave me a hard, appraising look. "Well, if you have any questions for her, now is the time to ask them."

"Yeah, right. If I dare discuss anything other than the weather with her, Molly will have my head. My marching orders from Molly are to be bright and cheerful and not upset my mother."

"This isn't about Molly. It's about you and your mother. Sure, it won't be easy for you to ask questions and it may not be easy for Rose to answer them, but you'll regret it if you don't ask. Many times I counsel families not to bring up distressing topics when a patient is this close to the end. In this case I believe it would be good for both you and your mother to have an honest conversation about what you feel she's kept from you. You may not like what she has to say, but at least you'll know."

"So we can have closure?"

"Closure. I hate that word." Sister Elizabeth stubbed out her cigarette. "You can't wrap up a forty year relationship in a neat little package with a few words. But, you can be honest with each other, and that's something more than what you have now, isn't it?"

I nodded. Sister Elizabeth lit another cigarette.

"I almost don't know where to begin," I said, my voice husky with emotion. "I don't know her at all. You say my mother broke the rules by sneaking in chocolate? I can't imagine anyone less likely to break a rule. Or to do anything really. She's spent her life in that house on Rose Hill. Gardening. Cooking dinner for my grandmother. Going to mass. What kind of life was that?"

"Is that really who you think your mother is?" Sister Elizabeth asked. "You make her sound like a housekeeper."

"That's what she was, wasn't she? She wasn't a wife. She wasn't much of a mother. What did she ever do other than serve as my grandmother's skivvy."

"I feel sorry for you, Ellen. I really do, and I'm not saying this to hurt your feelings. Rose is one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She's given up everything to care for her family. Her freedom. Her vocation. Her very life."

"Come on," I scoffed. "You're making her sound like Mother Teresa. This is what I know: she flunked out of the convent because she couldn't hack it. She obviously went out one night, got pregnant and couldn't convince the guy to stick around. Then she hid behind my grandmother for the rest of her life."

"You two do have a lot to discuss. But, I'll tell you what I know about Rose. I know that I wouldn't be a nun today if it wasn't for her. I wouldn't have made it through that first year, and I wouldn't have made it through all these years, when so many of my fellow sisters left, some abandoning the Faith altogether. I couldn't have stuck it out without Rose's constant encouragement, even though for years my only contact with her was through her letters and small gifts of chocolate." She looked at me expectantly, but when I said nothing she continued. "What do you think she's been doing since you left home? She nursed your grandmother once the dementia set it. She was active in her church and in the community. She volunteered here twice a week and started the homeless initiative at St. Ann's. Rose cooked and cleaned for the homeless men who slept in the church basement once a week, did you know that? She may have left the convent, and I will leave it to her to explain the circumstances to you, but she continued her life of service. Service to her family, her community, her God. Rosie's had a beautiful, meaningful life," Sister Elizabeth's voice broke. "I'm sorry that you can't see that."

Sister Elizabeth picked up the cigarette butts at her feet and left me to the solitude of the courtyard, her words reverberating in my skull.

My mother didn't wake up for the rest of the day. I sat in her room for hours and contemplated Sister Elizabeth's words. Lisa relieved me at three and I drove to the house on Rose Hill.

The roar of the mower greeted me. I walked around to the back of the house and found Billy in all his sweaty, shirtless glory. His back muscles were taut as he pushed the lawnmower through the overgrown grass. Billy turned, saw me and gave me a curt nod. That was a bit frosty. Maybe he's hot, it was close to ninety degrees after all. I went into the house and poured us both a glass of lemonade.

"Billy."

He continued mowing and didn't acknowledge me.

"Billy," I said louder.

He turned off the mower and walked over to me.

"It's boiling out here. You must be thirsty."

He took the glass I offered him. "Thanks."

"You didn't have to mow on such a hot day. It could've waited."

"I said I'd take care of it."

"Let me get changed and I'll help you."

"It's all right. I've got it covered," he snapped.

"But Billy, I can't let you do all of this by yourself. I'll only be a minute."

"You'll slow me down. Besides, I'm almost finished." He turned away from me and walked back to the mower.

"Well, at least let me cook you dinner or perhaps we could go out."

He didn't look at me. "I gotta pick up my kid at five."

"Well, how about tomorrow?"

Billy turned back towards me. "Look, Ellen, you don't owe me anything. You don't have to buy me dinner or beer or play pool with me. I'm just doing a neighbor a favor, that's all."

"Is that all I am? A neighbor?"

Billy's brown eyes were a mixture of hurt and anger. "You made it clear last night that's all you want to be."

I walked onto the brown, burnt grass towards him. "Billy, I'm sorry but..."

"No reason to be sorry," he interrupted. "Your mother's dying. You got some type of complicated relationship with your husband. You're going through a hard time. I get it. I don't want to make your life more difficult."

"You haven't made my life more difficult. The truth is, meeting up with you again has been the only good thing that has happened since I came home."

"Maybe I don't want to make my life more difficult. Ellen, I just got my life back on an even keel. My business is doing well, my kid's doing well. I'm not up for this push-pull thing you've got going on." He stepped closer to me and his voice then softened. "You're a beautiful woman, Ellen, but you're married and it seems to me that you plan on staying that way. You already told me you're not into flings, and to tell you the truth, neither am I. Why don't you make this easy on both of us and let me finish up back here and then go. Okay?"

Tears stung my eyes but I fought them back and nodded. I picked the two glasses up from the table and, without looking back at him, walked into the house.

Chapter 13

Ellen

Two days later, I knocked on Denis Lenihan's front door. Denis Junior opened it. "Hey, you're the research lady, right?"

"Yes, I'm Ellen Mills. Is your father in by any chance?"

"Yeah, he got back on Monday. Come in, come in. Take a seat and I'll get him."

"That would be great. Thanks." I walked into the living room and sat on an overstuffed floral couch. Family photos lined almost every available bit of wall space. Denis' wedding photo was closest to me, and based on Denis' long sideburns and his wife's long black hair, it looked like they were married in the mid to late seventies. Was Denis single and available when I was born? A bead of sweat tricked down my t-shirt. What was I doing here? Did I really want to know the answer? Maybe my mother was right to keep me in the dark. Unable to stop myself, I stood up and inspected the family pictures more closely: two dark haired boys in matching baseball uniforms, a blond girl with glasses in a class photo.

Denis Junior walked into the room, a large duffle bag with a NYPD insignia slung over his shoulders. "He'll be down in a few minutes. Listen, I'm late to work, but make yourself at home. Turn on the TV if you like."

My face burned with embarrassment. I couldn't believe he found me snooping. If I had any sense, I would've followed Denis Junior out the door and returned to my home on Rose Hill. I stayed, of course, with my back stiff against the hard cushions of the couch and my hands clenched in tight fists.

Ten minutes later, Denis Lenihan Senior entered the room. He was shorter that I'd expected, shoulders slightly bent, skin ruddy and coarse. He looked closer to seventy than sixty although his light blue eyes were sharp and clear.

He held out his hand. "Hello, Denis Lenihan. You're Molly Connelly's niece?"

I reached out and shook his hand. "Cousin, actually," I said, sounding calmer than I was. "She and my mother are first cousins. I believe you knew my mother, Rose Murphy?"

"No, I don't think so. Can I offer you a drink? I don't keep liquor in the house no more, but maybe some tea, coffee? I think my son has some orange soda in the fridge."

"Soda's fine."

He looked around the room. "Let's talk in the kitchen if you don't mind. I never sit in here. It was more my wife's room."

"Sure." I followed him into a small canary yellow kitchen. The room was hot, with only a window fan to provide relief. I sat at a round wooden table wedged into a corner while Denis found the glasses and the soda. After he poured us both a glass, he sat across from me.

"My son says you're doing some research," he said, his gravelly voice uncertain. "I'm not sure what I can help you with since I retired from the job almost ten years ago. You might have better luck talking with Denis. He's on the job and works narcotics. He's a boss too, made lieutenant last year," Denis said, with some pride. He sipped the soda and then ran his hand through his sparse gray hair. "Me, well, I was never one for tests. I was a patrolman 'til the day I retired. I have some stories I could tell you all right, but I'm not sure what you're interested in."