Help for the Haunted(50)

My father seemed to be waiting for Coffey to keep the debate alive, but the man stared down at the fast-melting cake on his plate and let the point die.

“Well, then,” my father said. “Since what we are talking about here is a simple birthday wish, I think the rule seems a bit silly. Don’t you, Rose?”

The rest of us had been calling my sister Rosie for a good hour by then, so my mother assumed the question had been meant for her. “Maybe so,” she answered, poking at the dark crumbles with her fork. “Although there’s nothing wrong with keeping something to yourself, Sylvester.”

“And what about you, birthday girl?” he asked. “Do you think it’s silly?”

“A little,” Rose said.

“If you can’t tell your family and your priest what you want most, who can you tell? Besides, depending on the wish, we might be able to help make it come true.”

No one spoke for a moment after that, though the silence in the kitchen begged for the news of what Rose’s wish had been. My sister must have felt it too, because after she took a bite of a baby blue flower on top of that cake, which left smudges on her lips, she said, “Do you all really want to know?”

“Only if you feel comfortable sharing,” my mother said.

Rose eyed my father. “You promise you won’t get mad?”

“Promise,” he told her.

“Okay, then.” It didn’t take my mother’s gift to sense from the way Rose inhaled that she felt nervous. “I wished . . . I wished that I could get my learner’s permit.”

The phone rang. My father excused himself, slid back his chair, and crossed the room to pick it up. As he talked to the person on the other end, my mother took a bite of cake at last, and asked in a quiet voice, “A learner’s permit for what?”

Again, I thought of that disconnect between them and the world. Father Coffey and I both spoke up for my sister, saying, “For her driver’s license.”

My mother mouthed an Ohhh, though that was all. I knew she’d never offer an official answer until my father weighed in, but he was deep in conversation by then. “Of course I remember you,” he said into the phone as he stretched the cord tighter into the living room. “I did get the letter. It was very flattering. But, well, I need to speak with my wife about the matter. We make all decisions together so she gets an equal vote. . . .” And after a pause: “We liked it very much. Thank you again. We will certainly consider your request.” With that, my father hung up and returned to the table. I expected the topic to go back to my sister’s wish, but my mother asked who had called.

“That reporter,” he told her.

“Which reporter?”

“You know, the one from the Dundalk Eagle.”

She squinted, as though reading something in small print. “Samuel Heekin?”

“The one and only.”

“I see,” my mother said. “But we gave him the interview for that paper months ago. The story has already run. What could he possibly want?”

“Says he’s interested in meeting again. He’s got this idea about writing a book.”

“About?”

“What else?” My father smiled. “Us. Who would have thought?”

“Oh, Sylvester. I don’t like the idea. A book only invites more attention.”

“I understand, my dear. But let’s discuss it later. Now Rose, about your wish—”

“I’m sorry,” my sister said, pushing the last of her melting blue flower around her plate. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was a dumb idea.”

“It’s not dumb,” my father told her.

Rose looked up. “It’s not?”

“Not in the least. After all, you’re seventeen now. I think it’s a very smart idea.”

“You do?”

He smiled and looked to my mother to see if she objected, though she gave no sign of it. “Yes, of course. We know how your mother hates to drive, so it will be handy having another person around here willing to get behind the wheel. Of course, there’s just the Datsun, so it’s not like you’d have your own car.”

“That’s all right,” my sister told him. “I don’t need my own car.”

“I hear there’s a driving school right over on Holabird Avenue,” Father Coffey said.

“We don’t need to waste money on a school. I can teach her, same as my father taught me. Except I promise not to yell the way he did if you forget to signal. Okay?”

“Okay!” Rose leaped up from the table and actually hugged him, a sight I had not seen in a long time. She even kissed his forehead, leaving the last of the baby blue smudges from her lips on his creased skin.

Happy as that moment made them both, some part of me still worried and waited for that once hostile Rose to resurface. I thought for certain the driving lessons would end in a screaming match. But I was wrong. Things went so smoothly that within a few months Rose had her license, with a DMV photo that showed her smiling big and wide. And she loved nothing more than being behind the wheel, so she found any excuse. When I stayed after school, she picked me up. Sunday mornings when the four of us needed to get to church in the gym, Rose was always ready and waiting at the wheel. She even began grocery shopping with my mother just so she could drive. Best of all, as far as my father was concerned, she willingly played chauffeur when we headed out on more of my parents’ lecture trips and television bookings.