Acceptance
By the time they got home, the house was full of “helpful” family members. Grandma was there, along with Grandpa Wilson, from her dad's side. A few aunts and uncles were there, and Megan’s mom, who had brought Megan along. When Rose walked through the door, she ran over to hug her.
“Rose, I am so sorry!”
“Thanks, Megan,” Rose responded mechanically.
She felt awkward and didn't know what to say. Truthfully, she just wanted to be alone. All she wanted was to go lie in her bed and sleep for the rest of her life.
She walked over to the couch and sat down, staring blankly at the flowery design on the curtains.
Megan followed, hovering and looking uncomfortable. “Rose, is there anything I can do for you?”
“No,” Rose answered honestly. “Trust me, there's nothing anyone can do.”
By now, Rose was feeling completely numb. This whole thing felt so surreal, like it was happening to someone else and she was just watching from the sidelines.
“I just want to go lie down,” Rose said.
“Okay,” Megan replied. “Just remember, I'm here to help, so I'll do whatever you need me to.”
“Thanks,” Rose said, remembering she had thought her mom was ridiculous for thanking the cops.
She laughed sadly at the irony of it. Then she got up and went to her room, without even looking back.
Lying down in her bed wasn't helping her, so she sat up, wondering what to do. Digging them out from under her bed, she started reading through her old journals, but there were too many memories about her dad in them. Turning on the T.V., she found a movie, but couldn't pay attention to it. Thoughts of how she should have been able to heal him kept creeping in. She was furious with herself.
Jumping up, she started pacing. There was a soft knock on the door. She ignored it. The second knock was louder.
From the other side of the door, Megan said, “Rose I know you're not sleeping. Can I please come in?”
“Not right now, Megan,” Rose said, annoyed. She knew she couldn't be civil right now.
“Please open the door,” Megan said. “I don't think you should be in there all alone.”
Flinging the door open, Rose strode briskly past Megan.
“Why shouldn't I be alone?” she asked loudly, as Megan followed close on her heals, back downstairs where everyone was gathered.
She flipped around abruptly, so her nose almost touched Megan's. Breathing hard, she said, “Nothing will make me feel better, Megan. Nothing. He's dead. Gone. I couldn't save him. I can heal a stupid cut from a stupid garden tool, but when it's life or death, don't count on me, 'cause this gift I have – it's no good!”
Now she was pacing the living room like an angry caged lion, and everyone in the house was watching her. She didn't care. All she wanted was to go back to the morgue and stay with her dad.
Walking one more circuit around the living room, she stomped back up to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Tearing through her closet, she tried to find her photo album. She ripped boxes off of shelves, and dumped over her jewelry box. Finally, climbing up on top of her old doll house to see better she found the book she was looking for.
Sitting down right on top of her mess, she ripped the book open, and taking deep breaths, she finally slowed herself down, looking for pictures of her dad's childhood. Tears started to flow again, and this time, she didn't fight them. She allowed herself to think about him, and to cry.
He had a good life. There was the picture of his high school prom, his first car, and then pictures of his wedding. Rose's mom was beautiful, standing on the beach in her long, satin wedding dress. With the sun setting behind them, they stood under a flower-draped arch, smiling at each other like nothing else existed.
Rose smiled sadly. She hoped to find love like theirs someday. Her dad had always been so good to her mom – the kind of husband women were lucky to find. He adored her as much as he adored Rose.
“Rose, I have some tea for you,” Grandma said, as she carefully picked her way through the mess.
Rose hadn’t heard her come in. “Tea?” she said, thinking, what is this? England?
“It's an herbal tea to calm your nerves.”
“Grandma, I don't know if I can handle being calm,” Rose said, suddenly realizing how exhausted she was. Today had been an emotional disaster for her.
“I know, darling, and maybe you're right. Maybe we should all be angry, and throw some things. It's not right that he's gone. He was young and healthy. What a good and honest man, he was; a good father and husband. I'm happy he married my daughter. He had a happy life here with you and your mom. Unfortunately, those things are not what make someone live or die. God has chosen to bring him home. Maybe he was needed more there.”
“What, like he's an angel now?”
The thought lifted her a little, and took just a tiny bit of the sting away.
“Maybe,” Grandma said, shrugging. “I guess I don't know, but I sure believe he's in a better place, and that God had a good reason to take him from us.”
Rose contemplated for a minute. She had never put much thought into life after death. Maybe Grandma was right. Maybe her dad was helping people as an angel. That's what he would want to do.
Maybe he was even helping her to get through this; a thought that calmed her.
She took the tea from Grandma. Realizing what a fool she had made of herself with her little fit, she blushed. Of course. It was so stupid, it actually made her roll her eyes.
“I guess I looked pretty silly stomping through the house.”
Shaking her head, Grandma said, “No one thinks any less of you, sweetheart. Everyone is sad for you, and wants to help. You have to be careful about how you talk about your gift, though. Some of the people down there don't know anything about it. We had to give them quite a story to cover what you said.”
Rose's stomach knotted up. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone. How could she have been so stupid?
“Oh, Grandma! I'm sorry.”
Patting Rose's knee, Grandma said, “It's okay, sweetheart, we took care of it. We just told them all how hysterical you are.” Grandma shot Rose a sly smile.
Rose couldn't help but smile back. “Thanks, Grandma.”
Sipping the sweet herbal tea, Rose felt her eyes drooping, but she was afraid to try and sleep. She didn't think she could turn her mind off.
“Want me to lay down with you?” Grandma offered.
Rose nodded. They picked their way through the mess, and together, they lay down in Rose's canopy bed. Wrapped in her grandma’s loving arms, Rose was asleep in minutes.
She slept deeply during the night, giving her exhausted body and mind a much needed reprieve. Waking early to dappled sunlight splashing through her sheer curtains, she felt refreshed.
Sitting up, she stretched mindlessly and studied her room. Seeing the mess she had made, the nightmarish events of yesterday came rushing back to her. Guilt washed over her in a thick wave, making her feel nauseous. How could she forget?
Taking a deep breath, she got out of bed. She needed to go be with her mom.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she found her mom and Grandma at the breakfast table. There was food, but neither one of them were eating. Rose knew she couldn't eat either, so she poured herself a glass of orange juice, and sat down next to her mom.
“How did you sleep, honey?” her mom asked.
“Okay, I guess,” Rose said, ashamed to admit she had slept well.
“How are you feeling this mor--” she was interrupted by a knock at the front door.
With a quick glance at the front window, Rose's mom stood. There was a police car parked in front of the house.
“Rose, honey, I want you to go wait in your room,” she said, with a note of concern in her voice.
“Mom, I’m not a baby anymore. I want to know what happened,” she insisted. “You let me stay yesterday.”
“Rose, I don't know what they're going to say, but I don't want you to hear about the autopsy first hand. I’ll listen to what they say and share with you what you need to know. As a parent, I need to decide this. Now go wait for me in your bedroom, please.”
The finality of her tone made Rose stop arguing. Fuming, she got up to leave. She was devastated about her dad! How could her mom shut her out like this?
Her mom answered the front door as Rose was walking away.
“Come in,” Rose heard her say, “please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Rose recognized the voice of the nervous man from yesterday.
She thought this must be the first time he'd had to deal with something like this. He looked pretty young, for a cop.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” her mom asked, as Rose shut her bedroom door.
“No thank you, Ma’am,” the same officer said. It was muffled, but Rose could make it out. She realized if she could hear them so well from her bed, she could just crack her door, and she would probably be able to hear the whole conversation as if she were down there with them.
The officer cleared his throat. “We've come with the autopsy results for your husband,” he said. “The coroner came back with preliminary findings, identifying the cause of death. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ma’am, but your husband was poisoned. This morning, when the coroner went in to start the autopsy, your husband's coloring led them to the right tests.”
“His coloring?” her mom repeated weakly. Rose could tell she was trying hard to keep herself together.
The lady officer joined the conversation. “Mrs. Wilson, it was cyanide. Have you ever heard of it?”
“Like the Nazis used?” Her voice was sharp, shocked.
“Yes that’s it,” the woman’s voice said, gently.
“And they could figure it out this fast?”
“Yes Ma’am,” the nervous man said and cleared his throat again. “It makes you turn blue. They ran a few tests to confirm it, and it's conclusive.”
Rose heard her mom crying, and shut her door as quietly as she could, unable to bear listening anymore. She fell onto her bed, crying into her pillow.
She had felt so disconnected from this until now. Somehow, having the police downstairs, talking with her mom about the cause of death, made it all so deeply real. This made her heart feel like it would shatter. How would they possibly move on now?