Garden of Nails

By Anne Biggs

Ireland holds the keys ... to love and to life.
 
A late-night phone call, pulls her back to Dublin. A fall in the park; lost memories … a mother’s long buried fears.
 
Catherine is going home.

Things become complicated, as she re-discovers family dynamics overlooked as a teen. The middle of t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paradigm Hall Press
• Release date: Mar 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781943050666

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Garden

of

Nails

Anne Biggs

Garden of Nails Copyright © 2018 Anne Biggs

Paradigm Hall Press

An Imprint of HBE Publishing

Front cover photo copyright © 2018 Aaryn James

Back cover photo copyright © 2018 Anne Biggs

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

All inquiries should be addressed to:

HBE Publishing

640 Clovis Ave

Clovis, CA, 93612

http://www.hbepublishing.com

ISBN:

978-1-943050-64-2 Hard Cover Limited

978-1-943050-65-9 Trade Paperback

978-1-943050-66-6 eBook

February 2018

Dedication

To Billy

I did it. I really did it,

but not without you.

One

On a chilly Boston evening, I left our marriage bed and slipped outside. My bare feet clung to the damp cement of the patio, as I gazed out over the backyard, and let the cold settle into my skin. The damp air awakened my senses.

Michael consumed my thoughts. There was a time I would have never left his arms; never left his warmth.

Times change.

I changed…

The rain began to fall, and I slipped back inside to sit at the hearth, watching as the fire dwindled to ashes.

Michael’s face took shape in the coals, small flames danced in the embers, fixing my gaze with their intensity. The cut of his jaw exposed his anger. Through the heat of the fire, his eyes seared me.

Just past two, I slipped back to bed, pulling the sheets over my shoulders.

Late night awakenings were assumed seductions. I waited for Michael to reach for me and cringed as he pressed into the curve of my back. His hand clutching my breast.

My cell phone vibrated across the nightstand. I grabbed it to keep from disturbing Michael any more than I already had. I stumbled in to the hall, knowing how late-night calls always meant something terrible. My stomach tightened as I looked at the picture.

Catherine, it’s Claire, Francie asked me to call. Your mum’s had a bit of an accident.

What does Izzy want now? Michael asked, calling from the bedroom.

It’s not Izzy. It’s Claire, Mum’s friend. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right there.

I knew I wouldn’t. Calls from Claire were never short.

Call her back in the morning. Come back to bed.

Michael, let me talk. My throat tightened. Something happened to Mum. I’ll be there in a minute.

I went downstairs as Claire gave me the details of Mum’s accident. I could see her gestures, as she laid out the bits and pieces of the accident.

Your Mum hasn’t been doing well for a while. I don’t know if your sisters have told you, but she’s been confused. The day before yesterday, they found her in the park behind the house, walking around, crying uncontrollably.

My God. Is she all right?

A jogger called the Guardia. Her voice softened as she continued. "He saw her walking in circles, calling out a girl’s name, clutching at the arms of strangers, begging anyone for word of a girl named Finn. She fell, and hit her head on a bench. The Guardia called for an ambulance.

I should have been there. Claire began to cry and I couldn’t understand anything she said.

Claire, slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Where is she now?

No one knew who she was—she was in emergency for almost six hours, before anyone called.

Where is she now?

Still in hospital. Come home, Catherine. Your Mum needs you.

Stepping onto the patio, I listened as Claire continued through her tears. The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

What are they doing for her?

Claire regained her composure and I could hear her deep breaths. They’re keeping her for observation, with the fall and all.

Why didn’t Rose or Francie call?

Then I heard the words again. Catherine, come home. Francie hasn’t left her side, and Rose is driving the doctors crazy. Your mum needs you here.

How is she? Is she able to talk? I nibbled on the jagged edge of my nail.

She doesn’t remember anything. She wants to go home, but the doctor is reluctant to release her. I’m guessing he has some concerns about her being home alone.

Claire, you said she called out a name?

They said, Finn.

Who is that? I found myself at a loss.

I don’t know. Claire seemed hesitant. When can you come?

I need to talk to Michael.

Catherine, what is there to talk about? I’ll send you money if you need it.

Claire’s voice trailed to a jumble in my mind. I knew they’d keep Mum in the hospital long enough to check for a concussion or any internal injuries, but what would happen after the tests? Who would watch her? What if it’s dementia? I needed to be with my sisters.

Claire, listen. What did the doctor say?

He didn’t say much, just that tests have been run. Rose is bossing everyone around. Poor Francie, she and Paddy are just sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, and trying not to cry. You need to come.

As the words spilled over the telephone, my heart ached, imagining Mum so helpless, I don’t know. I heard the reluctance in my voice.

Michael won’t let you?

It’s not like that. There’s a lot going on right now, I said, sitting in the lounge chair.

Catherine, your mum needs you… so do your sisters.

I’m just not sure when I can come.

Don’t wait too long.

I clicked off the phone, lay back in the chair and closed my eyes. I had to take this one step at a time. Mum wandering around the park, Rose driving the doctors crazy, and Francie trying to keep everything together.

I curled up in the chair and let my thoughts float back to when she took hold of my hand, squeezed it tight, and asked what brought me out on such a cold night.

Michael wants to take me to Boston.

And? Mum brushed her hair back. You’re all grown up, but you sit in my garden as you did a wee girl.

I’m afraid.

"When have you ever been afraid?

They have attorneys, and houses, and children in Boston, don’t they? Everything we have here?

It’s not as simple as that— I’ll be leaving home. I’ll be leaving you.

Maybe it is time to leave. I don’t have the answer. You need to tell him what’s in your heart. Don’t deny him your truth because of fear.

Would you have gone with Da?

She wrapped her woolen collar up around her neck and pulled me close under her arm. I’d have gone across the world with him.

Maybe Michael doesn’t love me enough, or maybe I don’t love him enough?

Only you can answer that. She kissed the top of my head.

I found myself jarred back to my life when the dogs barked. Mum’s garden held so many memories. As I looked out over the back yard, I realized I had tried to re-create them. Although I had everything I needed, I was missing something. I had no idea how to fill the hole in my soul. I needed to go home to mend my heart.

Two

Isnuck back to bed and burrowed under the covers.

What happened? he asked, wrapping his arms around me, lacing our fingers together.

Mum wandered away from the house and fell. They found her in the park. She’s in the hospital. I whispered into the air.

He let go of my hands and brushed strands of hair from my face, then turned me toward him. I gathered my arms to my chest, he slipped his hand under my gown.

Michael it’s late.

Come on, you’re awake, aren’t you? His body inched closer. Even after so many years, I would have yielded to his touch. He drew me closer and ran his hands down the inside of my thighs. I wanted to be exhilarated. I wanted the sensation. I wanted to be hypnotized. But, too much had happened; too much we couldn’t take back.

What’s wrong? He asked, squeezing my breast to arouse me.

Did you hear what I said about Mum? She wandered off. She’s in a hospital.

Well there is nothing you can do about it now. She’s safe, right? Come on, baby.

Michael, I can’t do this. I can’t just have sex, whenever. My mind is on my mother alone in some hospital. What’s wrong with you?

OK, OK. Tell me what happened. Is she all right?

No, she isn’t. I felt the rise in my voice. She wandered off and got lost in the park. She was calling out for someone, I said, pulling myself up in bed.

Who?

Finn.

Who’s that?

I don’t know. Claire didn’t either.

Why did Claire call? Michael questioned, pulling me back toward him.

Michael, stop it.

Isn’t Claire your mother’s friend? Why didn’t your sisters call?

I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I felt my frustration building. She said Francie asked her to call because she didn’t want to leave Mum alone. What does it matter?

You’re giving me a pretty shabby excuse. What about Rose?

I got up from the bed and turned toward him, only seeing his silhouette in the evening light. Michael, it doesn’t matter who called.

It does. How can you be so stupid?

I’m not stupid. Claire’s been family for as long as I can remember.

But she isn’t ‘blood’ family. You have an outsider calling about your sick mother.

Why do you do that? I pushed back my hair and sat on the edge of the bed.

Do what? I’m not doing anything? I’m just pointing out the truth. Clearly, your family doesn’t care enough to personally call.

Do you realize how much your words hurt? I dropped my head, not wanting to deal with him.

All I asked, Cathy…. Why didn’t your sisters call? I recognized his tone. I’d heard it too many times.

Did he mean what he said? Did I mean so little that they made an outsider call? No— Claire was not an outsider. She’d always been family. I wouldn’t let him fool me again.

I have to go home.

I thought here was home.

You know what I mean, Michael. Don’t do this.

He leaned over, pulling me toward him, trying to kiss me as if nothing had happened. He pulled on my arm to roll me toward him, but I jerked away.

Come on, baby.

Michael, stop. I pulled myself up on the bed. She’s my mother.

And you went back a year ago. For Jonathan….

I froze at the stinging tone of his voice. How is it he could always cut me at the knees?

You knew what Jonathan meant to our family, and that’s how you think of him?

I didn’t mean it that way. Just, you were gone longer than you said.

I propped myself against the headboard, and flipped on the light. I stared into the cold blue eyes that had once mystified me.

Tell me you’re not that selfish or that jealous.

I needed you here. He sat back as well.

Jesus, Michael, you had to go to a fucking dinner party, alone. You said everyone understood.

Do you hear yourself?

Yes. You’re being ridiculous, trying to make me feel bad because I want—no, I need to go home.

He reached into the drawer and took out a cigarette. Don’t ever talk to me like that again.

Why? I’m telling you the truth, Michael. I’m going home.

Just tell me this. What can you do that your family can’t? They’re already there. Besides if she gets worse, or does something crazy, they’ll put her away—that’ll be the end of it.

She’s not crazy, Michael. How dare you say something like that? What is wrong with you? My mother is sick. She is not crazy. There’s a big difference.

That’s even more of a reason why you don’t need to go.

That doesn’t even make sense.

What would you do?

Whatever she needed. I’d only be gone a while. I felt my throat tighten, struggling to remain calm. I would not let my frustration slip out. The smoke from his cigarette swirled above our heads. I had hated the smell when he started, but at that moment, I’d have sold my soul for one.

This is not a good time, Cathy.

It’s never a good time. Give me one good reason.

It’s too expensive— for the flight and all.

I don’t need your money, Michael.

Then how do you expect to buy a ticket?

I’ve been able to put quite a bit aside from working at the Center. Madeline paid me cash when I helped prepare court docs. I opened an account, and the money has added up.

There is no way you have enough to buy an airline ticket.

I have more than enough. I never spent any.

You mean you had money, but you spent mine on all the crap you buy.

No, I spent your money to pay our bills. I saved for emergencies, in case any of us needed it.

He didn’t like the loss of control. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, You bitch.

What? I didn’t do anything. I never spent any of the money. I put it aside for whatever comes up. You knew I had it. I never hid anything from you.

OK, fine. You have money. Look, she’ll be in the hospital for a while, right? Just wait until they make a decision, then if you have to go, we’ll go together.

I’m not waiting, Michael. You’re being ridiculous.

No, I’m being realistic. Look, I didn’t say you couldn’t go, just wait until her condition is clearer.

How is that realistic?

Don’t blow it out of proportion, Cathy. I don’t see why you have to jump the minute somebody calls.

Good God, Michael. I’m not jumping for anyone. I turned back to him.

Maybe Claire exaggerated her condition.

It doesn’t matter Michael. I’m going.

No, you’re not.

"I don’t want to fight about this. Don’t you think we should be thinking about my mother right now?

I’m going home, Michael. I straightened the sheet and blanket, then took hold of the comforter.

Your mother will be fine. She has family there.

I’m her family, too. I turned toward him. He paused. There were tight lines in his face, his knuckles relaxed, and he pushed his fingers through his gray hair.

I sat down on the bed and watched as he moved toward my side.

How long will you be gone? He asked, calming his voice and taking a knee in front of me.

I’ll come home when she’s better.

What if…? He took hold of my knees.

This is not your decision. It’s my family.

Don’t you think you should pay attention to the family you have here? I thought you loved me.

This has nothing to do with my loving you.

It came so fast. I felt the sting before I even saw his hand. I touched the growing puffiness of my cheek, feeling heat beneath my fingers.

I got up from the bed, and shoved past him to the open window.

Come on, Cathy. He grabbed hold of my arm. You have to understand where I’m coming from.

The heat radiated from my face. I jerked free and moved from the window to the mirror and saw the red marks take shape.

I told you, I said, unable to turn toward him because I couldn’t hold back the tears. If you ever hit me again…

You made me, Cathy. You know I didn’t mean it.

Yes, you did Michael, I said, still holding my burning cheek.

He went into the bathroom, slamming the door. I went down stairs to the kitchen, took up a glass and the whiskey bottle, and thundered out the back door.

I sank down on the lounge and stared up at the clouds rolling over the stars. Alone, with my legs tucked under me, I sipped the whiskey slowly, hoping to become numb, to lose myself in its sweetness.

Before I heard his voice, I felt his hand on my thigh. I knew his touch, and for a moment I wanted him to take me in his arms, help me forget what he had said… and done. Instead, I pulled away.

You all right? He patted my leg, and I felt the weight of him as he sat on the lounge.

How do you think I am?

I didn’t mean it that way. God, how do you do that? You turn everything around. He tried to reach out again, but I pushed him away.

I turn everything around?

You made me do it.

Are you kidding? I told you if you ever hit me….

I just want you here, he said. You get all messed up when you go to Ireland. Can’t you just wait to see how she does?

You mean, wait until Francie calls to tell me Mum’s dead?

I didn’t mean that either. He turned away from me.

Jesus, Michael, you keep saying things, then you tell me you don’t mean them. Your words tear me apart. What the hell do you mean? He got up from the chair and folded his hands across his chest.

Look…

What, Michael?

Of course, you can go.

You’re giving me permission? Aren’t you generous.

He threw up his hands. I can’t win, can I? If I say no, I’m a bastard, if I say yes, I’m overbearing. Do whatever you want, Cathy. I’ve never been able to stop you.

You stop me every day. Regardless, I’m going home. In the distance, a horn blew, and the night air froze around me.

Without another word, Michael left me alone with the stars.

Three

The slamming of the front door announced Izzy’s arrival. The scent of lavender, preceding her steps, echoing across the hardwood of the foyer.

Where is everyone?

Kitchen—you’re late.

Only fifteen minutes. That’s early for me.

Michael sat in the living room, reading the paper, vodka-seven on the end table. She swept in behind him, threw her arms around his neck, and scattered the paper across the floor. I watched from the kitchen doorway, and couldn’t help but smile. Isabelle, our only child, had always been able to wrap her father around any finger she chose.

Hey Dad, she whispered in his ear. You miss me?

Always. What’s the occasion? I haven’t seen you in two weeks.

Well, I have some news, and Mom mentioned a free dinner. So, here I am.

So, what’s your news? He reached around, patting her arm.

Nope, sorry, you’ll have to wait until dinner, when I can tell you both.

Well then, sit down. How’ve you been?

Just busy with work, and classes, of course. What are you up to?

From the kitchen I heard their banter. Tonight, would focus on Izzy and her life. No repeat of the dramatics of last night.

Growing up, Izzy understood her father far better than I ever could, but she’d only tolerate just so much of his arrogance.

Come on you two, dinner is ready. What do you want to drink, beer?

Sounds good.

Mom, this is great. Been a while since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.

Izzy moved the plates around the table, as I filled them with roast, pilaf, and broccoli, her favorite. We paused, said Grace, then for a few minutes, ate in silence. I sipped white wine, Izzy and Michael drank their beer from identical mugs. She told him about selling her paintings at the gallery and he nodded his approval.

All right, Izzy, we’re well into dinner, what’s going on? Do you need money?

Why do you do that? Izzy asked, her voice rising, then she calmed when she heard the echo of her words.

Why do I do what?

Always assume the worst.

You sound like your mother, he said with a grimace.

She slammed her mug on the table, so hard the beer spilled onto the tablecloth. You make people feel small. No, that’s not right. You make me feel small.

No, I don’t.

Yes...you do. Pausing, she glanced at me. I grabbed her hand to stop her.

Izzy, why don’t you tell us your news?

She looked at Michael waiting, her face firm with resolve.

I’m sorry, Izzy, I didn’t mean that, Michael added. Tell us what’s going on.

OK, I don’t want you to say anything until I’m done. I watched her take a deep breath. I’m going back to Dublin. I finished my work at Emerson, and I’ve been accepted at The Institute of Art and Design on a scholarship.

Michael put his fork down and pushed his plate away. Well, imagine that. When did all this come about? Michael glared at me.

I doubled up on my courses and applied to the institute last spring.

Izzy, that’s wonderful, but why didn’t you tell us? I asked, feeling an immense pride for my girl.

I wanted to be sure everything worked out before I said anything.

Did you get in some kind of trouble? Michael asked, taking another bite.

God, you’re doing it again I try to tell you something good, and you turn it around, like I did something wrong.

Well, excuse me for caring, he stated sarcastically. I’m sorry. He acted like someone had brought him the wrong order at a restaurant, rather than talking about life-changing events.

No, you’re not. You do it all the time. You even do it to Mom…especially to Mom.

What are you talking about? Michael raised his eyes to my level, then almost squinted. His look of shock disappeared.

I know what you’ve done. I can see the bruises. She tried to cover them with make-up.

Izzy moved from her chair and took my face in her hand. I got up and tried to smooth out the tablecloth, to deflect the direction of the conversation. Then it came.

What happened, Dad? Look at her face, it’s red. I pulled away from her touch, and put my hand to my cheek. I know she didn’t fall.

I stood there in a daze, trying to figure out how to deny it in front of Michael. Oh no, I said, running my hand across my face. It’s just shadows.

Mom, what happened? She asked again. I can see it. It’s not shadows, it looks like you were hit.

I moved away from the table. Michael just sat there. Drinking his beer.

You didn’t do a very good job covering it.

What happened? She turned toward her father this time.

It was nothing, Izzy.

You did this, didn’t you, Dad. She didn’t wait for an answer. God dammit, I knew it.

Izzy, this has nothing to do with you. The look on his face changed, his jaw tightened, and he ran his hand across his mouth.

Tell her, Cathy. It was an accident.

What? She fell? You and I both know that’s not true.

You don’t deserve this, Mom. Izzy wrapped her arm around me, but I pulled away.

You don’t understand—

What’s to understand?

I’m fine Izzy. I promise.

How can you promise that?

Michael slammed his fist on the table. Look, you came to tell us some news, not to criticize our marriage. Now is there anything else you have to say?

This is not the time Izzy, please. I stared at Izzy hoping she would see the apprehension on my face.

Yes, it is the time. There is no better time. He doesn’t even feel bad about it.

I’m not talking to you about this, and I suggest you drop it… now. Michael shoved his plate in front of him.

You’re supposed to protect her. She’s your wife. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

What goes on between us is none of your business.

It is if you leave bruises.

It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hit her, she moved before I could stop my hand. He dropped his napkin on the table. I’m done with this conversation. I’ve lost my appetite.

Michael got up from the table and gave me a hard stare. Later, Cathy. He left the table without another word.

Dad, Izzy called out. He turned toward her. I don’t want anything from you, and I don’t need your money. She took a deep breath and sat back.

Michael left the room. I leaned into the table, pushed my hair from my face, then took hold of Izzy’s arm. You shouldn’t have done that.

Why not? Someone has to stop him.

Do you think you stopped him? It wasn’t your place. You just made it worse.

Mom, if you can’t protect yourself from him, someone has to. I won’t let him treat you that way.

You don’t even know what he said. I got up and pushed my chair against the table. I know you’re trying to help, but—

You think I don’t know, or remember things he’s said? Her whole body shook, as she stood up. There would be no stopping her. I motioned for her to follow her father.

What do you want me to do? Tell him I’m sorry? That it’s OK to beat you?

No. Tell him it wasn’t your place to talk to him the way you did. The relationship your father and I have is different. Regardless of what you may think, it is not your place to change it.

You’re wrong, Mom. If he hits you and I know it, and do nothing…I’m just as guilty as he is.

I understand what you’re saying, but you need to mend your relationship with him. I’ll take care of my own.

In the kitchen, I stared at the water, waiting for the sink to fill. She had to stand up for me. I wouldn’t stand up for myself.

When I finished the last of the dishes, I hung the dish-rag across the towel bar, and moved out to the back yard for privacy. I ran the evening through my head, replayed everything that had been said. I knew how Michael would respond. It might be in an hour, or a day, but Michael would have the last word.

Mom, I gotta go, she called from the kitchen.

I heard Michael’s office door slam as he stomped up the stairs. I knew his gait, how he moved across the room.

No, Izzy, don’t leave. Come out to the patio. Let’s talk.

She walked through the kitchen, leaned against the doorway, and her eyes teared up. The look on her face spoke volumes. She went to the refrigerator and took another beer, then walked through the open French doors and let the cat slip between her legs as she took a seat in the chair.

I’m sorry Mom. I made it worse, didn’t I?

No, Izzy. I patted her leg.

"I should have never done that. He’s going to take it out on you when I leave, isn’t