Part 2
Five months to the day after Anna's murder, her mother came into headquarters to talk to me. My heart clenched in my chest at the sight of her. She was gaunt, pale, her eyes, which had once sparkled, now were dull and dim. I thought of the picture I had seen on the internet shortly after Anna's death. It proclaimed that when a wife loses her husband, she is a widow. When a child loses his parents, he is an orphan. But there is no word for a parent that loses their child, because there is no word in any language that is able to adequately describe the sheer agony of it.
"Mrs Montgomery?" I asked, as she looked around the station looking a bit lost.
"Detective Rizzoli," she sighed, grasping my hands in her own. I couldn't help but notice how cold her hands were, as though a part of her had died along with her child.
"Please, call me Jane," I smiled at her.
"Then you must call me Rosa."
"Hi Rosa. Is there anything I can assist you with?"
She shook her head, looking around at all the officers milling about. "Can I... can I just have a chat with you, please?"
I frowned. "Of course you can. We'll go up to my desk..."
"Without anyone else around," Rosa added, her big blue eyes staring up desperately into mine.
"Okay. Okay, we'll find a nice place where we can have a chat by ourselves, all right?" I smiled, patting her hands gently.
"Thank you."
About 15 minutes later found us sitting in an interrogation room, the only place I had managed to find that was completely secluded, the station being unabashedly busy today. I locked both doors so that no one could sneak into the observation room and listen to our conversation. Finally, I dragged my chair over so that I was sitting next to Rosa, and watched as she wrung her hands in her lap.
"What can I help you with, Rosa?" I asked finally, and she looked up at me, tears silently cascading down her cheeks. I had had the foresight to bring some tissues in with me, and I pushed them forward. She touched her cheek before getting a tissue, as though she wasn't even aware that she was crying. I surmised that if I had cried as often as this woman must have over the past five months, I probably wouldn't notice it every time either. She wiped at her cheeks and blew her nose before turning to me and staring deeply into my eyes.
"I want you to tell me I'm not going crazy," she whispered, and I sat back in my chair.
"Mrs Montgomery... Rosa... the loss of a child is beyond anything I could ever imagine, and I'm..." I floundered, searching for the words, "I'm so desperately, desperately sorry that this happened to you. And to Anna," my voice broke when I said her name, and I had to quickly clear my throat to continue, "but I am not a mental health professional. I can advise you as to some excellent grief counsellors, but..."
"No," Rosa interrupted, shaking her head. "I mean, thank you, but I'm already seeing a counsellor. I just... I feel like I can't talk to anyone else about this. For some reason, it has to be you."
"Why me?" I asked, and Rosa looked down at the tissues clenched in her fist.
"Anna told me that she was going to help you."
"Anna? Help... me? I..." I trailed off, staring at Rosa in confusion.
"I've been dreaming about her. Every night," Rosa whispered, and for the first time I could see a little gleam of the sparkle in her eyes that had been so quickly snuffed out when I first met her.
"That's... I imagine that's fairly common, after what you've been through..." I murmured, but she shook her head violently.
"No. No, see, it's not memories I'm dreaming of. It's conversations. I'm sitting down in a chair, conversing with my little girl as though she is an adult. I knew her dreams as a child, but she tells me of the things she wishes could have happened had she been allowed to live a little longer."
"I..." I started, but Rosa pressed on.
"I know you think that's it's just me projecting, pushing my dashed dreams and hopes down into my subconscious and allowing Anna to talk about them with me... that's what my counsellor seems to think anyway, but I know it's not. I know it. She told me she wished she'd been old enough to kiss a girl for the first time."
"A girl?" I asked slowly, confused.
"Yes. And that's why I know it can't be my subconscious. I always dreamed of her falling in love with a man. I wouldn't have cared, but she was always so girly that the thought of her being attracted to females when she got older never crossed my mind."
I sat back and stared at Rosa, waiting for her to continue.
"She wanted to learn how to ride a motorbike. Her little girl self wanted to be a dancer, but her adult self wanted to become a doctor. She wanted to have children." Rosa wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks. "She told me that she had forgiven the man who killed her, and she needed me to forgive him too. She told me that he had been abused extensively as a child, and that was the reason he had killed her. She told me he apologized to her again and again for being so messed up. She told me that before she died, he told her to 'rest in peace, dear heart'." Rosa suddenly sobbed, her hands clenching up and she placed them on her heart. "She told me that if I allowed myself to live in hate for the rest of my life, I would never be able to appreciate fully the gift that she had sent me." One of Rosa's hands drifted down to cover her stomach and I lifted my eyes to hers in question. Rosa nodded and took a deep breath. "She told me that she needed to help the woman who had helped her, who had given her back her dignity in death. She meant you, detective."
"How..." I had to clear my throat to continue, "How do you know she meant me?"
"She showed me."
I shook my head, not in denial but in shock. "How is she going to help me?"
Rosa shook her head. "I don't know. She just said that she was going to open your eyes to what was right in front of you. She said she's been trying for a while now, but you're a challenge." Rosa suddenly leant forward. "Please tell me I'm not going crazy. Has anything weird been happening to you lately? Things you can't quite explain?"
I started to shake my head, then stopped abruptly. The tires, the keys, the dates, the illnesses. On their own, they were not suspicious, but as piled together as they had been over the past few months... "Possibly," I whispered.
Rosa stood up slowly. "Anna told me that she will stay here as long as it takes to help you, and then she will move on. As much as I... as I need my night time chats with her, I know she needs to move on." Rosa pursed her lips, sniffling. "Please, Jane. Let her help you."
I stared up at Rosa while she gathered up her meagre belongings. "I will not bother you again. But please... let me know how things turn out," she stated, turning as though to leave. Without even thinking about it, I stood up, turned her back around to face me and engulfed her in a hug. "Thank you, Detective," she whispered, smiling at me sadly. She slowly walked out the door, and I thought even then that her gait wasn't quite so heavy, her footsteps were a little lighter, and I sighed.
That night, I went over to Maura's place. I had been spending so much time there lately that it was beginning to feel more like home than my actual home.
"Is everything okay?" Maura asked when I came inside.
"Yeah. I... just... yeah."
"Okay. Dinner will be ready soon," Maura replied, staring at me strangely.
"Okay. I'm just going to go... into the garden. Okay?"
Maura frowned. "Okay, Jane. I'll call you when dinner is ready."
"Thank you," I murmured, walking past her. Without allowing myself to think about it, I gently placed a hand at her hip and leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek. Maura's cheeks flamed but her lips curved up in a smile as she continued to stir the contents of the pot on the stove, and I headed outside.
Maura's garden is beautiful. She doesn't get to spend much time out there herself, so she hires people to weed it and mow it, etc, but when she can, she takes a lot of pride in the work she does in it. My favourite part about Maura's garden has always been the natural stairs made out of rocks. I love to sit there and just think, I love to sit there with Maura, I love sitting there at night and in the day time. So it was the first place I headed to. I let my fingers gently stroke the flowers and the bushes as I walked past them, allowing their heady scent to soothe me before I sat down and had this conversation that was, scientifically speaking, going to just be with myself. When I settled down on my favourite stair (the rock there curved perfectly to the shape of my behind, and the stair behind was the perfect height for me to lean my elbows upon), I stared up at the sky. It was almost clear, save for one cloud that covered the moon, and I vaguely started counting the stars, trying to see the various constellations that make up our galaxy, before I took a deep breath.
"Anna? Are you there?" I whispered, and shivered as a breeze suddenly raced across my skin, the murmur of the trees leaves almost sounding like a reply.
"What do you want to help me with?" I asked. "What do I need to see?" There was no reply, and I cursed myself for waiting. She was dead, and no matter what the fantasies of her grieving mother were, there was nothing anyone could do to change that fact. I leaned forward, clasping my hands in front of me and I sighed heavily. A breath through the trees again, but this time I heard no words in the rustling of the leaves. I had come to the conclusion that it had just been a dream before, when suddenly something dropped into my clasped hands. I uncurled my hands slowly, and stared at the item contained within. At that moment the back door opened.
"Jane? Dinner's ready," Maura called out, and I stared at her, then down at the gift I held in my hands.
"Anna," I whispered, just as the cloud moved away from in front of the moon, lighting a path that led directly to the door, to where Maura stood waiting for me. "Maura. You wanted me to find Maura." Another whisper through the leaves, and I heard the words clearly this time.
Yes. Yes. Thank you, Jane. Be happy. Love her.
I stood up slowly, carefully cradling Anna's gift in my hands and walked over to where Maura stood. She stared up at me questioningly, as I tucked the hair behind her ear, then carefully put Anna's gift behind her ear too. The daisy stood out vibrantly in the moonlight as Maura looked at me trustingly.
"Is everything okay?" she asked softly, and I nodded, still gently stroking her hair, looking down into her eyes.
"Yeah. Everything... everything is fine."
"Who were you talking to?" Maura asked, leaning her head slightly into my tender touch.
"Anna," I answered, and smiled as Maura's brow furrowed in consternation. "She wanted to thank me. She wanted to thank us."
Maura just looked at me and I let out a slow breath, leaning my head down, placing both hands on either side of her face. Maura's hands settled on my hips even as her brow remained furrowed. "Jane...?" she asked softly, but I interrupted her.
"Shh. Let her thank us."
"But..."
"Maura," I smiled down at her. "Be quiet."
When our lips finally met, I felt nothing save for Maura's lips on mine, her tongue sweetly entangling with my own, and her hands clenched on my hips as she stood on tiptoes to get better access, but when we finally separated for need of air, there was a perfect ring of daisies surrounding us.
"Daisy means innocence, loyal love and purity," Maura murmured, looking down at the flowers.
"I'd say that fits then, wouldn't you?" I asked and Maura smiled up at me, one hand slipping into my own, the other entangling itself in my hair as she captured my lips again.
R&IR&IR&I
It is now one year to the day since Anna's life was taken. She would have been 5, fully proficient at writing her own name by now (if somewhat messily), learning how to write all manner of other words. She would have perhaps been learning how to ride a bike. She would be excited about the prospect of school, and ecstatic about being a big sister. But Anna is gone, and that's why I'm here at her graveside. Maura stands beside me, her hand in mine and her head resting on my shoulder as we look at Rosa and Timothy Montgomery, crouching in front of their daughter's grave marker.
"This is your sister, Anna. We named her Indie. Indie, say hello to your big sister," Rosa waves the tiny baby's arm as though in greeting. "I'll tell her about you every day, so that she knows how amazing her big sister was."
We've been here for about half an hour now, silently supporting Rosa and Timothy as they talk to their daughter. We were both hesitant to come at first, not wanting to intrude, but both Montgomery's insisted upon it. After a while they stand up, and I smile at the two week old baby, who is sleepily blinking her eyes up at the world.
"Jane? Would you like to say something?" Rosa asks, laying a hand on my arm and I smile at her, nodding. With a slight squeeze of Maura's waist, I move forward, dropping to my knees in front of the simple granite grave marker.
I open and shut my mouth a few times, trying to come up with the right words to say everything that needed to be said. Finally, I reach out and trace over the etched letters in the stone. "Thank you," I whisper.
And as I stand up and turn back to my pregnant wife, I swear I hear a little girl giggling in the distance.
END
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