Home Fires (24 page)

A wistful smile tugged at a corner of Irene’s mouth. “Regrets? I always wished your father and I could have had more children. And I would have liked a different house… but
not
a condo,” she added with a pointed stare.

Her mother’s words left Rose totally surprised. Irene didn’t like the house? Solid and stately, it had been built by Irene’s own grandfather. Graceful and elegant, filled with antiques, their house was the epitome of her mother and it suited her well.

“You never told me you didn’t like this house. I always assumed you loved living here. You grew up in this house, Mom. It’s a beautiful home.”

Irene nodded. “It
is
beautiful. But to tell you the truth, it took a long time before I felt like it was my very own. When we moved in, most of my mother’s furniture was still in the house, and that wallpaper in the front hallway dates back to when I was in high school. You’re too young to remember, sweetheart, but after your grandmother died and the house came to me, I wanted to sell it. Your father talked me out of it. He said this house was my legacy and that I eventually would be sorry if we let it go. Looking back, I have to say he was probably right. So we stayed put and I’ve grown accustomed to living here over the years. It finally feels like it’s mine now. And it’s
not
a condo,” she added.

Rose struggled with the unexpected confession. How had her mother managed to keep such a secret bottled up all these years?

What else might there be that her mother was in the mood to share?

“Have you ever wished that you’d done things differently, if you could have done what you wanted with your life? You’re so smart, Mom. You’re one of the smartest women I know. Instead, you stayed home and took care of me. Are you sorry you never went to work?”

“Who says I didn’t work?” Irene’s eyes gleamed with soft challenge. “Raising a family is hard work. And as for me not being able to do what I wanted, let me tell you something. Your father never told me what to do, not once in our marriage. Maybe that’s one reason we got along so well. It’s called respect. For one another, as well as for yourself.”

“But what if things had been different? Don’t you ever think about what might have been?”

“
What if
is a dangerous game to play,” Irene replied. “I try and stay away from that kind of thinking. I made my choices early on, and I got exactly what I wanted out of life. I always knew your father was the right man for me. We started dating our freshman year of high school. And I wasn’t about to leave this town, not if it meant leaving him behind.”

Rose smiled as one of her childhood memories flooded to mind. Her father had always lauded the fact that he and Irene had been high school sweethearts.

“Your Daddy wanted to be a teacher. And I wanted…”

Rose held her breath, waiting for a reply. What
had
her mother wanted? Irene’s flowerbeds and backyard garden were famous around town. Perhaps with some encouragement she might have had a little flower shop. And her mother was equally passionate about the written word. She would have made the perfect English teacher or librarian, surrounded by her beloved books.

“All I wanted was to be with your daddy,” Irene said after a moment. “I knew I was meant to make my life with him. And I thank God every day for the time we had together. We had a good life and we loved each other. That’s all anyone can ask.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Rose mulled over her mother’s words, chosen so carefully, lived so gracefully. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she do the same?

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” Irene suddenly asked. “Ever since you came home, you’ve been wandering around the house looking like some lost soul.”

How did mothers do it? They seemed to be equipped with some instinctive radar that allowed them to keep close watch over their children’s hearts, even before those same children—infants or adults—came to know and understand how they felt themselves.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Rose said, and finally shared the news of Andy Sabatini’s offer. The Judge’s proposal needed no mention. Rose could already guess exactly which her mother would choose, if given a vote.

A thoughtful smile hovered about Irene’s face. “Do you remember that time when your daddy and I took you to Washington D.C.?”

“How could I forget? It was wonderful.” Her mother’s words prompted a flood of happy memories. She’d been eight years old when they’d taken a trip in the family car to the nation’s capital. It had been a special summer. Her father had foregone his normal summertime stint of teaching driver’s education, and for two glorious weeks, they’d taken to the highway. They had traveled down the Ohio turnpike, spun through the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, and finally been rewarded by the majesty of Washington.

That same city beckoned to her now. One phone call to Andy and the job would be hers. There was nothing holding her back. Nothing except everything—and everyone—she loved.

“Do you know why we went to Washington that summer?”

Rose shook her head. She had only a child’s memories of a special family vacation, but obviously her mother had seen it differently.

“I’d lost another baby that spring. You know your Daddy and I always wanted more children. I wasn’t feeling too happy with myself, or anyone else for that matter. I insisted he take the summer off so we could go somewhere. I told him I wanted you to see something of the world. I said…”

Irene’s voice quieted and her eyes misted over. Finally, after a deep breath, she continued. “I told him I didn’t want you growing up like I had, thinking James Bay was the only place in the world.”

Rose’s heart softened as her mother’s life opened up to embrace a young girl’s dreams. Irene had sacrificed everything for one special man, for a heart that yearned for children. And the years drifted along.

“I’d been feeling selfish and mean for months, but all that changed once we got on the open road. Being with you and your daddy, my heart felt glad. I was happy again. Maybe all I needed was a little change of scenery. When we got to Washington, I took one look at all the people dressed up in their fancy clothes, going places and moving so fast, and I knew that place wasn’t for me. I was mighty glad we had James Bay waiting back home.”

Rose nodded, lost in memories. She’d forgotten the crowds of the city until now. No one stood still. No one listened.

“Do you remember visiting the White House?”

She nodded again as her thoughts turned to the majestic mansion. The people’s house. The president’s home.

“Jacqueline Kennedy lived in that house. She was little more than a girl herself when she became first lady. She had two small children and a husband with an important job and a country to run. But even with the world at her feet, something she said once got me to thinking. It didn’t take me long to figure out Mrs. Kennedy and I had something in common. That stayed with me while we were in Washington, and long after we got home. And I knew then, if I had it all to do over again, I’d choose exactly the same as I had the first time around.”

Irene settled back amidst the cushions. “Mrs. Kennedy knew how precious and important children are. She’d lost some babies of her own, you know. Even with all the important things happening in her life, she said—I can’t remember the words exactly—if you bungle raising your children, whatever else you do doesn’t really matter. And that set me to thinking. I thought about all the times your daddy and I tried, all the babies we lost, and the gift God gave us when we finally had you, our precious little girl.”

Rose struggled to hold back the unbidden tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She knew her mother had had numerous miscarriages, but until today, they’d never discussed them openly.

“I tried my best to do a good job with you, sweetheart. All I ever wanted out of life was for you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Mom,” Rose assured her. “You did a wonderful job.”

“But are you happy
now
?”

“I am,” Rose said after a moment’s thought, realizing she spoke with the truth. “I always wanted to be a lawyer.”

“Just like the Judge,” Irene added with a smile of her own.

Rose laughed through the tears that finally spilled down her cheeks. “Just like the Judge.”

“Your daddy would be so proud. We always told you that girls could do anything, and you’ve grown up into a strong successful woman. Jacqueline Kennedy knew what she was talking about. I’m mighty glad I took heed of what she had to say.”

Rose reached out and grasped her mother’s hand. How much she loved this dear, sweet woman. The sacrifices she’d made had helped make Rose into what she was today.

Irene’s fingers tightened around her own. “What I’m trying to tell you, honey, is that you mustn’t worry about me. I’m happy in James Bay, doing exactly as I please. But knowing you are where you want to be, living your life the way you want, will make me even happier. I don’t want to bungle raising you, even now that you’re all grown up. So you take that job in Washington D.C. if that’s what you really want. Follow your heart, honey. It won’t steer you wrong.”

Rose drew in a sharp breath.
Follow your heart.
An echo of the very same words someone else had told her just this morning.

“And, Cecilia Rose, one more thing…”

“Yes, Mom?”

Irene’s eyes twinkled but her voice was firm.

“No Florida condo.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

EDITORIAL

____________________________________

By: Charles Kendall

The James Bay Journal

____________________________________

JAMES BAY—The time has come to act. The safety of our community is in peril. Local fire officials have shown little initiative in solving the recent series of arsons plaguing our fair city. We take issue with Asst. Chief Gallagher’s lackluster efforts in spearheading the investigation.

No longer do the citizens of James Bay dare sit by in silence, waiting for our public servants to respond. To date, no lives have been lost; these statistics could change at any moment. How long before this rampant epidemic of fires is halted? Let us join together and take back our town.

Citizens, a call to action! Proclaim your dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs. Demand the arson investigation be immediately turned over to qualified professionals of the State Fire Marshal’s office. Telephone city hall and order the mayor to remove Assistant Chief Gallagher from the investigation before the arsonist strikes again.

____________________________________

The martini pitcher clinked across the room.

“Did you read that garbage they published in the paper yesterday?”

“Exactly which article are you referring to, Lil?” Irene said. “Seems garbage is about all the
Journal
prints lately. Worthless trash. The only thing that paper is good for anymore is recycling.”

Rose glanced up from the book in her lap and surveyed her mother and Lil, facing each other over the card table. “I think she’s referring to the editorial Charles wrote.”

Lil slapped her cards on the table. Her emerald-green eyes glittered over the top of her reading glasses. “I still can’t believe that Kendall character had the nerve to publish such a thing. It’s one thing to complain about the way the fire department is handling things. But to launch a personal attack against Fireman Mike… well, it’s just not right.”

Rose felt her own temper simmering as she thought about the piece in yesterday’s
Journal
. Charles had publicly called Mike’s integrity and dedication into question. He’d practically accused Mike of gross negligence in overseeing the arson investigation. The whole town was talking. And she had no doubt what lay behind Charles’s scathing editorial.

Jealousy was a powerful motive. Charles had made his feelings perfectly clear a few days ago. She stirred in her chair as she recalled their conversation on the back porch and the stinging words of warning he’d spit out as he stomped down the steps.

“Wait and watch. You’ll be sorry. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

How she longed for the Judge’s return. His sage wit and savvy understanding had proved a steady source of comfort throughout the years. The Judge would know what to do about this mess brewing in town.

Irene laid her playing cards on the table. Her eyes were filled with soft understanding. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There are plenty of people in this town who know Michael is hard on the case. Never you mind what Charles is up to. No one pays any attention to what he writes, anyway.”

“Don’t be silly, Irene, of course they do.” Lil shuffled another hand. “Most people are fools. If they hear it on TV or read it in the newspaper, they assume it must be true.”

Rose slapped her book shut. “I think both of you are giving Charles far too much credit. He’s simply after the publicity. He’s like a pesky fly. He’ll disappear once somebody swats him.”

“I’d like to take a crack at him myself,” Lil muttered and took a small, neat sip of her martini.

“He’s certainly created controversy these past few weeks,” Irene said. “The
Journal
must be selling lots of papers.”

Lil sniffed. “We’ll just see about that. He’s already lost one customer. I canceled my subscription this morning.”

“You’re addicted to that paper,” Irene said. “How are you going to live without your daily dose of who’s getting married, having a baby, or got arrested last Saturday night?”

Lil pondered the question by seeking an answer in her martini glass. She brightened after a sip or two. “I just solved your recycling problem, Irene. You can save the newspapers for me.” She flashed a triumphant smile as the telephone’s shrill ring interrupted from the hallway.

Rose threw aside her book and headed for the door. Lil’s voice, full of righteous indignation, trailed her down the hallway. “That Charles Kendall should be ashamed of himself. I’m surprised someone hasn’t written a letter to the editor about this. For all we know, there could be shenanigans going on down at the newspaper office.”