The Mill River Redemption Read online

  “I know it’s none of my business,” the woman said, “but, are you all right?”

  Emily wiped the tears from her cheeks and nodded. “My mother died a week ago, and I’m on my way home from her wake.” She was surprised that her words spilled out so quickly.

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman said, her expression turning from concern to pity. “It looks like you loved her very much. I have three girls myself, so I know how there’s something special between a mother and a daughter. Of course, my kids are close as sisters, too. I’m glad they’ll have each other when I’m gone. Do you have any siblings?”

  “I have one sister,” Emily said. She began to wonder if her mother had somehow managed to plant this woman in the seat next to her.

  “Well, at least you have each other, then. That, and time, will make things better,” the woman said. Emily managed a half-smile and was thankful when the woman resumed her knitting.

  Maybe time will help, Emily thought. Summer would be the beginning of a new stage in her life. She would honor her mother by trying to do as she had asked. It would be wonderful to spend some more time with dear Aunt Ivy. And, if Rose showed up, well, she wasn’t sure what would happen—although it would certainly be something to see her Park Avenue–apartment sister living in the old Johnson house.

  CHAPTER 6

  1983

  FOR JOSIE, HER FIRST WEEK AT THE BOOKSTOP PASSED slowly. Each day was a blur of looking after the girls and trying to follow Ivy’s advice to not suppress her feelings. Josie realized that she felt a little better if she stayed with her aunt in the front room, helping with customers and listening to Rose and Emily entertaining themselves in the Kids’ Corner. It was a taste of normal life, and it provided just enough of a distraction to keep her grief at bay.

  She clung to that small bit of normalcy two evenings before Christmas as she stood in the upstairs bathroom getting ready to go out. She’d curled her hair and even put on a little makeup. Lipstick added a touch of color to her pale face, and a bit of concealer under her eyes did wonders to hide the dark circles and puffiness from fitful sleep and frequent crying. It seemed like a long time since she’d taken any special care with her appearance. Tonight, though, Ivy was dead set on taking her and the girls to Mill River’s annual holiday pitch-in. Looking at herself, she was surprised to realize that getting fixed up actually made her feel a little better.

  Rose and Emily were already decked out for the occasion in new, matching red and green velvet dresses. She had splurged and purchased them during a shopping trip to Rutland the day before. They had new black patent-leather Mary Janes, too, which they discovered made a distinct tap on the hardwood floor of the attic bedroom. Before long, the girls were stomping, giggling, and chasing each other from one end of the room to the other.

  “What’s all that ruckus?” Ivy called from the kitchen. “You all about ready?”

  “We’ll be down in just a minute,” Josie said. She sprayed a quick veil of Aqua Net over her hair and left the bathroom.

  In the kitchen, Ivy was removing a large casserole dish from the oven.

  “Something smells wonderful in here,” Josie said. “What did you make?”

  “My famous chicken biscuit pie,” Ivy said. “It’s always a hit at pitch-ins. It’s like chicken potpie, but I put the filling in a casserole dish instead of a pie crust, and then I put homemade buttermilk biscuits to bake on top. Learned how to make real biscuits years ago, when your mom and I were growing up in Nashville. Thomas used to rave about ’em. There are folks up here who can really cook, but I’ve never had biscuits as good as they are in the South.” Ivy placed a sheet of aluminum foil over the steaming casserole dish and crimped down the edges.

  “It looks wonderful,” Josie said, wondering who “Thomas” was, but she decided that now was not the time to ask. “The only place I’ve ever had biscuits is Kentucky Fried Chicken.”

  Ivy laughed. “Colonel Sanders makes decent biscuits, but they’re not as good as mine.” She carefully lowered the dish into a canvas carrying case. “All right. It’s only two blocks to the town hall, so it won’t be a long walk.”

  Josie repeatedly glanced over her shoulder as they made their way down the sidewalk. Each time she did, she saw only cozy little houses and businesses awash in light from the lampposts and holiday displays. The cold night air smelled of snow and spruce, with just a hint of wood smoke, rather than auto exhaust. Once they were on Main Street, she looked up and saw a great, white mansion on a hill overlooking the town.

  “That old house has been here longer than I have. It’s almost like it’s watching over all of us, isn’t it?” Ivy asked, following her gaze. “I know you’re nervous being out, but you don’t have to worry anymore. No one followed you here from New York, and only the detectives and the funeral home know where you are. I know it might take you a little time to believe it, but you and the girls are safe now.”

  They’d reached the white town hall building. Josie opened the door for Ivy and the girls and smiled at the scene that greeted her. The large meeting room was already full of people. Garlands and strings of lights were hung across the wood-paneled walls while white paper snowflakes hung from the rustic exposed beams in the ceiling. A cassette deck on a table in one corner played traditional Christmas carols. The room was packed with row after row of tables and chairs, and several long tables positioned end-to-end against the far wall were filling up with covered dishes. Ivy headed that way to deposit her casserole while Josie took the girls and found seats.

  Her aunt knew almost everyone in town. As they were eating, Ivy pointed out or introduced her to more people than she could ever remember. When it was time for dessert, Josie watched as Ivy worked her way from the food tables back through the crowd to their seats. Her aunt handed each of the girls a beautifully decorated gingerbread man and set a slice of pie in front of Josie. “I’ve been hearing about this tart cherry pie,” Ivy said, looking at the piece she’d brought back for herself. “The new police officer they just hired, what’s his name? Joe Fitzgerald? His wife made it. People are raving about it.” She sat down, took up her fork, and scooped a bite into her mouth. “Holy crap.” She closed her eyes and chewed slowly. “Try it, Josie. It’s the duck’s nuts, I tell you! I’ve got to get this recipe.”

  “It is fantastic, isn’t it?” Hearing a voice she recognized, Josie looked up to see Father O’Brien standing next to their table. In one hand, he held a plate bearing a large piece of cherry pie. In the other hand, he held a plastic spoon, at which he was staring intently. As if to snap himself out of his thoughts, he shook his head slightly and then looked down at Ivy with a sheepish smile. “I’m pretty sure it’s the best I’ve ever had. This is actually my second piece.”

  “Oh! Hi, Father!” Ivy said with her mouth full. She swallowed quickly. “Have you met my niece yet? This is Josie DiSanti, and her daughters, Rose and Emily. They just came to Mill River and will be staying with me for a while.”

  Josie looked up at Father O’Brien, and he met her gaze with a question in his eyes. She realized that he didn’t know whether it was all right to divulge the fact that they had already met.

  “I actually met Father O’Brien last Saturday night, while I was out walking,” Josie said quickly. She saw a flicker of relief cross the priest’s face. “I ended up stopping by the church to warm up, since the door was open, and we had a nice talk.” She looked down at Rose and Emily sitting next to her. “Girls, can you say hello?”

  “Hello,” Rose said dutifully. The little girl looked curiously at Father O’Brien’s black attire and white collar, and Josie wondered whether questions about them were forthcoming. Emily stared up at the priest without speaking before turning to hide her face against Josie’s side.

  “Em’s a little shy sometimes,” Josie said.

  Ivy picked up her empty dessert plate and stood up. “Why don’t you take my seat, Father? I’m done eating, and I’ve been meaning to go introduce myself to Ruth Fitzgerald.
I want to ask her about her pie recipe.”

  “Thanks, Ivy, that’s very kind of you.” He set his pie on the table and sat down as Ivy headed across the room. “I’m glad to see you here,” he said to Josie, smiling at her and the girls. “You look like you’re doing a little better.”

  “I’m trying,” Josie said. “I really didn’t want to come here tonight, but Ivy insisted. It’s actually been easier than I expected. Even a little bit fun.”

  “You should try to go out every day, if you can. Getting fresh air and meeting people will do you good. I was actually hoping to see you here, since I have something for you.” Father O’Brien reached inside his jacket and withdrew a padded, sealed envelope. He offered it to her. “It’s a Christmas present for you and your daughters.”

  “A present?” Josie asked. The envelope felt lumpy and uneven, and she heard a muted jingling noise when she took hold of it. “For us?” She turned the envelope over in her hand, but there was nothing at all written on it. “Father, I … I don’t know what to say. I would never have expected you to get us anything!”

  “Oh. Ah, well, it’s actually not from me. It’s from someone in town, someone who wishes to remain anonymous but who wanted to do something to help you and your children. Her only request is that you wait to open it until Christmas morning.”

  “What’s inside it?” Josie asked.

  Father O’Brien pursed his lips and smiled slightly before answering her. “I would be in serious trouble if I told you that.”

  Josie stared at him. His eyes twinkled with delight, but he did a good job at maintaining a poker face in every other way. “All right,” Josie agreed. “I’ll open it on Christmas morning.”

  “Mommy, can I hold it?” Rose asked. She reached out her hand, but Josie carefully slid the envelope into her purse.

  “No, Rosie, we don’t know what’s in it, so Mommy is going to put it in her purse for safekeeping.” She turned back to the priest. “Father, would you please thank the person for us? And tell her that I was truly touched that she would think of my girls and me?”

  “Of course. I would be happy to,” he said as Ivy finally made it back to their table.

  Ivy was flushed and slightly out of breath. “That Ruth is just a darling, but she won’t say a word about what’s in that pie. I’ll have to figure out some way to weasel it out of her.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Father O’Brien said. He prepared to tuck into his second helping just as the doors to the town hall burst open. A man dressed as Santa Claus strode into the meeting room shouting, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”

  “It’s Santa Claus!” Rose yelled. The four-year-old was already down off her chair and jumping up and down. On each side of their table, children of all ages were rushing past. Josie saw that the Santa had opened a large bag and was handing out candy canes and small packages to each of them. “Can I go up, Mommy? Please, can I?”

  “Go ahead,” Josie said, and Rose streaked away from her. “Try to get one for your sister, too,” she called out. It made her happy to see Rose acting like her old self, and not the clingy, withdrawn girl she’d been since Tony’s death.

  “That one’s not shy at all,” Father O’Brien said.

  “Nope,” Josie agreed. “Never has been.”

  “That’s Doc Richardson up there in the Santa suit,” Father O’Brien said as they watched the mob of children receiving presents. “He’s the only doctor in town, has been for years. He’s very good.”

  “He plays Santa each year for the kids here and at the hospital up in Rutland,” Ivy added. “He’s a good doctor and a good person. Everybody loves him.”

  Josie noticed a slight wistfulness enter Ivy’s voice as she spoke those few last words. When she looked up, her aunt’s pensive expression piqued her curiosity. Josie followed Ivy’s gaze across the room to the man in the Santa suit and realized again just how little she knew about her.

  ———

  ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, JOSIE WAS SHAKEN AWAKE BY ROSE.

  “Mommy! Wake up, wake up! We have to go see if Santa came, Mommy!”

  “All right, Rosie, hang on,” Josie said. On the wide bed between them, Emily opened her eyes and stretched. It took only a moment before she, too, was up and yelling, “Santa!” Josie made the girls put on their holiday slippers before they all went downstairs.

  Ivy was already up filling the coffeepot with water. “Merry Christmas!” she said as they entered the kitchen. “Boy, you girls sure got lucky this year. Santa left you some pretty spiffy toys out under the tree.”

  Rose rushed into the sitting room. Josie followed, carrying Emily, and she was shocked by what she saw.

  Ivy’s tiny Christmas tree was almost completely buried in presents. Wrapped boxes and several stuffed animals were piled around the base of the table that held it. Two filled stockings hung from the edge of the table, while some smaller gifts and books were stacked around the tree itself. Only the top of the tiny evergreen was visible.

  Josie was so fearful of exhausting her limited savings that she’d bought just a few gifts for the girls and Ivy during the past week, but nothing compared with the display before her. She turned and glared at Ivy.

  “Let’s see what you got, girls,” Ivy said, with a wink at Josie. “I think I see some Strawberry Shortcake dolls!”

  “I can’t believe Santa brought so much,” Josie said. She set Emily down so that she could join Rose in looking through the presents and then said, much more softly, “Santa didn’t have to do all this.”

  “But Santa wanted to,” Ivy replied in a hushed voice. “Looks like he even brought a few things for you.” Smiling, she reached over, took two of the wrapped packages from the tree table, and handed them to Josie.

  “Ivy, you really shouldn’t have done this,” she whispered.

  “Nonsense. I wanted you all to have a nice Christmas. I know it’s hard this year, but you need every little bit of happiness you can get right now. Just look at them.”

  They watched the girls for a moment. Emily was pawing through the toys, oblivious to everything else, while Rose was sitting off to the side, pulling the scented Strawberry Shortcake dolls from their box.

  “You should open those,” Ivy said, looking pointedly at the gifts in Josie’s lap. Josie sighed and slid the paper from the larger of the packages. It was a book, a heavy hardcover edition of the complete works of Shakespeare. A ribbon was placed as a bookmark in the middle, and when the book fell open to the marked page, Josie saw a highlighted passage from Macbeth:

  Give sorrow words. The Grief that does not speak

  Whispers to the o’erfraught heart, and bids it break.

  She looked at her aunt with tears in her eyes as Ivy took her hand.

  “It’s what I told you, about how it’s important to talk about things,” Ivy said. “This’ll remind you how to heal and help you remember that I’m here for you. And, it’ll help you fall asleep at night, if you need it.” She chuckled. “Shakespeare’s gorgeous stuff, but I can only read a little at a time before it wears me out. It’s real good for insomnia, you know?”

  Josie laughed and shook her head. “Thank you, Ivy. I just … I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for this. For everything.”

  “It’s nothing. Now, open the other one.”

  The second present was small, in a box only a few inches across. Josie removed the paper and lifted the lid to reveal a gold, oval locket nestled in a bed of cotton.

  “Ivy, I can’t accept this. It’s too much,” Josie protested, but Ivy wouldn’t listen.

  “No it isn’t, not at all. It’s something that belonged to your great-grandmother. She gave it to me years ago, since I was the older of her granddaughters, for me to pass along to my oldest daughter someday. Since I never had any kids, it’s just been sitting in my dresser drawer. It’s a family heirloom, really, so it’s something you should have.” Ivy reached over, picked up the locket, and gently popped it open. “There’s space in here for p
ictures of the girls. Maybe wearing it will remind you to keep going when you’re feeling sad.”

  “They … and you … are about the only reasons I’ve made it this far,” Josie said. She reached over to hug Ivy.

  “Mommy?”

  Josie turned around to face Rose. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Are you crying because you miss Daddy?”

  Josie took a deep breath. “Mommy is crying right now because she feels happy and sad at the same time. Happy because it’s Christmas and we’re all together, but sad because Mommy still misses Daddy very much.”

  “I miss Daddy, too,” Rose said, and Josie saw her little face start to crumple. “I like the new toys, but I really wanted Santa to bring Daddy for Christmas.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Josie choked, “not even Santa can bring Daddy back, even though I wish he could.”

  “You know,” Ivy said to Rose, “it’s okay for you to miss your daddy, and to cry when you feel like it. But you know something? Your daddy wouldn’t want you to be sad today. He’d want you to play with all your new things and think about all the happy times you spent with him.”

  “That’s right,” Josie said. “Today, Mommy is going to try very hard to remember all the fun we had with Daddy, because he loved us all very much, and he wouldn’t want us to be sad on Christmas.”

  Rose looked at them with her chin quivering. She put down the doll she’d been holding and laid her head in Josie’s lap. “I’ll try hard, too, Mommy,” she said.

  After a minute, Rose straightened up with an excited expression. “Mommy, what about the envelope?”

  “What envelope?” Ivy asked.

  “Oh,” Josie said as she remembered the mysterious envelope Father O’Brien had given her at the holiday pitch-in. “I completely forgot about it. Just a minute, I’ll go get my purse.” She dashed back through the kitchen and up the stairs to the attic.

  “I guess it slipped my mind,” she said as she returned with the sealed envelope. “Father O’Brien gave me this at the holiday dinner. He said it was a gift from someone who wanted to stay anonymous. I was supposed to wait until Christmas morning to open it.”