Going Home

Going Home

John Lyons’ office hadn’t changed at all, as far as Rose Murphy could tell, though Lyons himself had aged some. He welcomed her into his office, sat at his desk, and gave her a quizzical look. “You’re the last person I could have imagined showing up here.”

A decade before, when Rose got pregnant by her 16-year-old student, Sergio Garrido, Lyons is the lawyer the Garrido family hired to force her to a convent and to give up the child to them to avoid criminal charges.

“This is where I should be. You’re the right lawyer for what I need,” Rose said.

She told Lyons the story—the whole truth.

“I want to make it as right as I can. Nothing will bring Sergio back, but Ben Holmes shouldn’t be in prison. I want to confess.”

“I have to say, I’ve never had anyone come to me wanting to confess to any crime, much less murder. You know, I can’t tell anyone you confessed to me. I don’t owe that even to the Garridos. You can walk out that door and go live your life, and no one will be the wiser. The police closed the case.”

“Ben loved me and I used him. And Sergio . . ..” She sighed. “He was a bad person, but I take responsibility for making him that way. He certainly didn’t deserve to be executed. Mr. Lyons, I can’t live out here with all that on my conscience.”

“I’m sure the Colorado Springs police have never had two people confess to the same murder. They aren’t going to be happy about it.”

“That’s why I’m here. I know you will figure it out. It’s not enough that they accept a guilty plea from me. They have to free Ben. Do you think they kept Sergio’s laptop? The evidence of his blackmail is on it.”

“Hmm. It’s likely in some evidence locker collecting dust. They obviously never broke into it or you might have become a suspect.”

“That’s what I figure.” She sighed. “I need to go to Texas and see a few people. I’ll be gone a week or so. When I get back. I want to turn myself in.”

***

Rose called her sister Maddie to tell her she was coming, packed a bag, and headed to Texas. She arrived in Alpine after dark, but she knew she couldn’t sleep until she confessed to Maddie.

“I had hoped you came here to tell me you and Michael were getting married,” Maddie said, sounding devastated by Rose’s story. “Oh, Rosie, I’m so sad. I’ve been worried about you for a long time, but I never imagined anything this terrible. Why didn’t you tell me you lost another child. I might have been more understanding of the negative turn I saw you take.”

“Oh, Maddie, I was so ashamed about Sergio.”

“I thought you were mad at me when I didn’t hear from you for months.”

“I’ve never been mad at you about anything. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you more.”

They finally went to bed. Rose slept soundly—no bad dreams.

Day was just breaking when she joined Maddie in the kitchen.

“I woke up with a thought.”

“What’s that?” Maddie asked.

“To go see Papa and Mama.”

“Goodness, that’s quite a thought. I told you Papa finally left her and quit drinking, right? He has the saddest little house, but I think he’s happy now—as happy as a broken old man can be.”

“When I was a little girl, I thought he hung the moon.”

“He did a good job hiding his dark side. He always left for his benders.”

“When he said he was out of town working?”

“Right. Why would you see Mama? To tell her off?”

“No. I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m just following an instinct. Would you come with me?”

***

Marfa looked different. Must be my new eyes.

Maddie directed her to an unpaved street on the edge of town, to a small wood framed house backed up to a pasture.

“Papa doesn’t have a phone, but I don’t think he goes anywhere,” Maddie said.

Rose knocked on the screen, then heard a cough and a chair squeak. When the door opened, she was shocked. He had aged so much in the than two decades since she saw him last. His hair was thin and white, his face, pale with red blotches. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and was wearing an undershirt, pajama pants, and slippers.

His eyes opened wide. “Rose? Is that you?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He ushered them in, gathered old newspapers off the sofa, and brushed the cushions with his hand. “Please sit. You want coffee? Water?”

“We are fine,” Rose said. She and Maddie sat on the sofa, and he returned to his old brown Naugahyde recliner, which squeaked again.

“Oh, Sweet Pea, it’s been so long.”

For the first time in forever, his term of endearment didn’t bother her.

“Yes, Papa. A very long time.”

“Do I have grandchildren?” His voice was strained and sad.

“Joel . . . we couldn’t have children. I’m not still with him—divorced in the past year. But there is a grandson, who I just met for the first time.”

“The baby you had in high school?”

“Yes. Michael found him. Michael found me, too. Michael lives in New York. I moved up there, too, briefly. I returned to making art.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. You were so good at drawing.”

“Michael and I came to Texas a few days ago and met the couple who raised Adrian, up in Andrews.”

“Oil money?”

“I think so. They’re wonderful people and did right by my child. And Adrian . . . he is something. He graduated from Harvard Medical School and is now training to be a brain surgeon in Dallas.”

“I don’t suppose—”

Rose heard the question in his voice.

“I don’t know, Papa. That would have to be up to Adrian, if he wanted to meet his biological family. I don’t know that I will see him much myself.” She paused. “I’m going to prison.”

“What?” The chair squeaked as he burst up then fell back down. “Prison? What are you saying?”

“I killed a young man that I had an affair with. Another man is in prison for it. That was my doing, too. But I plan to get him out. When I get back to Colorado, I’m turning myself in and confessing. I . . . I just thought I should let you know about me.”

“We didn’t do right by you. I see that clearly since I quit drinking and left your Mama. We didn’t do right by any of you kids. Maddie, I’m so sorry. I’m proud how you always stood up to her when I was too big of a coward.”

Maddie reached for his hand. “I don’t hold anything against you.”

“Me either, Papa,” Rose said. “You seemed helpless. But I knew you loved me, even when you went along with her.”

“Say, . . ..” Papa put his finger to his lips and smiled for the first time since they walked in—Rose saw the Papa she once knew. “Do you remember when you were little, and we drove out to Reata?”

Reata. She had forgotten it until she went to the restaurant in Alpine that carried its name.

She struggled to speak. “I remember.”

“Stay here.”

He got up from the squeaky chair and walked like a younger man to the bedroom of the tiny house. A drawer opened, papers rustled, and the drawer closed. He came back holding a sketch pad.

“I kept ‘em. The drawings you did that day. The drawings . . . of my memories. I never knew how . . ..” He handed the pad to Rose.

Maddie looked over her shoulder as Rose turned each page. Was I only six? Did I really drawn these things.

“When did you draw these?” Maddie asked.

“The first year you were away at college.”

Maddie shook her head. “When you were in first grade?”

“Yes,” Papa said. “Those things,” he said, pointing at the pad, “really happened. How did she know?”

“Wait,” Maddie said, taking the pad from Rose. “Is that supposed to be Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor on those horses?”

“I’m not sure,” Rose said. “It’s just what I saw.”

“Yes, yes,” Papa interjected. “That’s what they did. We ran the cattle right by them.”

“I remember you telling us about that,” Maddie said.

“Do you know why you drew these things, Rose?” Maddie asked.

Rose turned to the last drawing and pointed. “I think it was about Papa.” She looked at him. “I think that’s what made you sad.”

“Jimmy Dean dying,” Maddie added, in a somber voice.

He covered his eyes with his wrinkly hands and sniffled. Rose walked over and put her hand on his shoulder; he squeezed it.

After a minute, he looked up, red-eyed.

“We have to go, Papa,” Rose said.

“I hope you will come again.”

Maddie and Rose hugged him. They did not tell him they were going to see Mama.

***

When they pulled up in front of their childhood home, Rose turned off the car, but didn’t get out. She just stared at it. It had been nearly thirty years. The few times she had come to Marfa since then, she didn’t go by the house or the high school. She avoided those memories. As she stared at the house now, she could almost hear Evelyn Murphy complaining that Rose wasn’t normal, calling her a slut.

Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she saw clear, blue sky through the windshield. She got out and felt the sunshine, the air cool and crisp, her vision clear. The house was just another old house in a small town—the ghosts were gone.

“Come on,” she said to Maddie.

She rang the bell and waited, as she heard sounds inside, then footsteps approaching; then, the door opened. Like Papa, Mama was a shadow of her former self. She wore a plain house dress, her white hair was tied up in a bun. She was thin and pale—frail.

Mama stared at Rose for the longest time before anything resembling recognition appeared on her face. Rose allowed her lips to form a small smile as she waited patiently.

“Rose and Maddie. My loving daughters.” Her raspy voice was that of an old, angry, hateful woman. And wounded. By what?

“Hi Mama.” Rose spoke gently. “Can we come in?”

Mama backed away from the door and they stepped in. Rose looked around . Other than a new easy chair and a small TV sitting on a table against the wall, the living room looked exactly as she remembered it.

“Y’all want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Rose and Maddie both said.

They followed Mama to the kitchen and stood by the breakfast table as Mama got cups and poured coffee from her old Pyrex pot sitting on the stove.

“We stopped by Papa’s,” Maddie said.

“Yeah? Did he talk bad about me?”

“Not really, Mama.”

“Well, he either did or he didn’t. He blames me for everything.”

“We can sit here,” Rose said, taking a seat at the breakfast table. Mama set the cups down and they all sat.

“Well, what brings you here?” Mama was looking at Rose.

Rose squeezed her fingers into her hands. “I want to tell you something, Mama.”

Evelyn raised her eyebrows, as if to say, Ok. I’m listening.

“I saw you as very unhappy when we were growing up.”

“Unhappy? What you say? My life was a bowl of cherries.”

“I know it wasn’t, Mama. I understand now. My life has been like that for almost thirty years. And I’ve done some terrible things. But I’ve changed in the last few months.”

“Bully for you.”

Rose brushed aside Mama’s snide remark. “I want to thank you for something.”

“You don’t say.”

“You were right to make me give up my baby. I couldn’t have raised him. I wouldn’t have been a good mother.”

“You were too selfish.”

“Maybe.” She took a deep breath, then let it out.

“So, Michael found me.”

“The artist boy from New York who knocked you up?”

“The boy who loved me—who I loved. He also found our son. We went to see the couple who raised him, and we went to see our son. Adrian is his name. He is an amazing young man. He’s studying to be a doctor.”

Mama seemed out of snide remarks. Rose thought she detected some more admirable emotion cross her face. She is really listening.

“Michael, Adrian, and Adrian’s parents cleared the fog from my eyes. They forced me to see that who I had become wasn’t worthy of any of them.”

“I see.” Mama’s voice was subdued, but Rose heard something in it. Hope?

“Mama, I’ve discovered we’re never too old to change. I believe I have found who I was meant to be, the girl that got lost in all my tragedies. I want to be her for the rest of whatever life I get.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, daughter? Just spit it out.” Mama didn’t sound snide or even angry, but like she really wanted to understand.

“I am. I don’t think you and I are so different. We manifested our unhappiness differently. But I think it was the same.”

Mama didn’t speak; nor look away.

“I hit rock bottom. I killed a young man who I thought wronged me and let another man take the blame. It doesn’t get worse than that. I’m going to turn myself in and may spend the rest of my life in prison. But for the first time since I was five years old, I’m happy.”

Mama raised her eyebrows. “Goodness.” She leaned in. “You blame me for your unhappiness?”

“Not anymore. The malice in my heart before is no longer there. Whatever you did that I thought was wrong, I have forgiven. I wanted you to know that forgiving is possible. That happiness is possible. That’s all. That’s what I came to say.”

Maddie, who had watched Rose without a word, slowly got up from the table. She put her hand on Mama’s shoulder.

Mama looked up, surprised. “You? You never liked me.”

“That’s not true.” Maddie was calm. “I just tried to stick up for myself and for my sisters.”

Mama nodded and closed her eyes. “Yes, you did.”

There was no hugging when they left, but Mama stood on the porch and watched them drive away.

They drove in silence back to Alpine. When they got to Maddie’s house, Maddie embraced Rose. “I’m glad we did that, Rose. Thank you.”

“I think today is the first time I ever saw Mama as human—that I had no hate in my heart.”

“I think you got to her. I don’t know if she will think she is too old to change.”

“For a moment, I saw hope.” Rose sighed. “I’m going to hit the road now.”

“You could stay another night.”

“I know. But I’m ready for what’s next. I’ve got two days of driving to not change my mind in.”

***

Somewhere on the road between Alpine and Midland, Sam Cooke sang to her.

Goin' home

Goin' home

I'm goin' home

Quiet like some still day

I'm just goin' home

It's not far

It's just close by

Through an open door

Work all done

Care laid by

Goin' to fear no more . . .

Rose didn’t know if there was a Heaven or a Hell, but, in the moment, she felt that rebirth was possible, into a world where only the best in people existed, where all cares and fears had been vanquished. As she hummed along with Sam Cooke, she understood why people needed to believe in Heaven.

She thought about what she told Mama. I am happy. It seemed like someone else was speaking the words, but they were true now.

“I am happy,” she said out loud as she drove across the quiet Texas plain.

***

When she arrived at her aunt Jean’s house in Colorado Springs, her best friends Lisa and Valerie were there waiting, along with Michael.

“Michael?” Rose ran up the driveway and almost knocked him down with her hug.

“I had to be here for you,” he said.

The next few days were like vacation, with just a few serious interruptions.

On Monday, Rose went to see John Lyons, who assured her everything was arranged for her to turn herself in. On Tuesday, made a statement to the police—a full confession.

On Wednesday, Rose went to see her high school art teacher and former boss, a woman who had always looked out for her and supported her. She told her everything. Her old teacher was in tears and shocked that Rose might end up in prison.

But then, she said, “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

***

Rose scheduled a visit on Thursday with Ben at the Colorado State Penitentiary. Jean, Lisa, and Michael insisted on accompanying her. When she parked in the prison parking lot, Lisa took her hand. “You’ll be in a state when you get out, honey. I was after I went to see him. We’ll be here waiting when you come out, and we’ll drive you home.”

Rose handed Lisa the keys.

The all got out, and they all hugged Rose.

“You are loved,” Jean said, as Rose finally turned to go in.

About halfway between the car and the door to the prison, Rose did this thing she had taken to doing when she crossed the finish line at marathons. She jumped in the air and clicked her heels together. It always made her smile, no matter how she had been feeling just before. She smiled like that now.

I am loved. I am loved.

THE END