Chapter 21
After overcoming his anger at losing his sight, and fighting temporary bouts of depression, Stephen was still frustrated with the progress of his rehabilitation training. His sister and rehab specialist attempted to educate him on the floor plan, location of furniture, and essentials for day-to-day living. They coached him on the location of cookware, refrigerator, and the appliances and utensils he could safely use. He would need to reeducate himself on using the bathroom, shaving, and showering. Stephen wasn’t successful with many of the tasks and was becoming discouraged. His new routine proved troublesome. Finding simple items such as his comb and razor blades did not turn out to be as easy as anticipated.
After living in his house for more than five years, he still had to learn to navigate around the furniture. Things he had taken for granted, location of the couch, coffee table, entertainment system, lamps, and other accoutrements in the living room, were now obstacles. The bedroom wasn't as hard with only a few items to work around. In addition, he was familiar with the orientation of the bed and dresser. The kitchen was the most troublesome in the retraining process. Stephen had to relearn how to work with utensils, many having been removed to prevent from hurting himself; the trainer and his sister rearranged the items in the pantry and cabinets with Stephen having to learn the new order.
With so much to learn since becoming visually impaired, each of the last several days had made more evident how powerless and fallible he felt within his own home. It was as if he were a little child. His sister, Brenda, could sense his helplessness, especially during the times he reacted with angry outbursts. The rehab specialist knew Stephen was trying to cram in too much too soon to try to show his independence, especially with his big sister helping in almost all matters. Brenda’s aid added to his sense of inadequacy. It didn't make a difference how hard the specialist tried to nudge Brenda to minimize her assistance; she only became more emboldened to be involved. To change tactics, the trainer used the direct approach of telling her she was more of a hindrance than a help. Offended, Brenda lashed back.
An argument followed. The two agreed to disengage temporarily from their disagreement when Stephen withdrew to the living room couch to sulk. Approaching the end of her four-hour shift, the trainer decided to grab her sweater and purse and dismiss herself for the day. She had learned over the years to maintain patience when training those who were recently blinded. The family, however, was generally not as imposing to the extent of Brenda. Often, in fact, family members were afraid to engage and receded into the background, offering minimal to no assistance. Cordially excusing herself and opening the door to leave, she found Alder on the landing getting ready to push the doorbell.
“May I help you?” the trainer asked, unsettled yet poised.
Alder was startled to see the door swing open without having to ring the doorbell. He suspected that he’d been watched as he approached the doorway. “Uh, yeah, is Stephen here?”
The trainer withdrew, and within a couple of minutes returned to leave the house with Brenda in her wake. “May I help you?” she asked.
“I'm here to see Stephen.”
“And you are?” Brenda demanded, attempting to compose herself while still not calmed down from her quarrel with the trainer.
Alder speculated that this was Stephen's sister. Even though he had visited him a couple of times since he had been in the rehabilitation center, and Stephen mentioned she had come down to assist with his acclamation training, he had yet to meet her. “I'm Alder Dennison. I work with Stephen.”
“I’m so sorry. So you're Alder? Stephen mentions you all the time, come on in,” Brenda said, a huge grin forming on her face and reaching out giving Alder a hug as if he were a welcomed member of the family. “It seems that the times you've been over to the rehab center I've been out running errands for him. You'll have to forgive me for just a minute ago. We still have reporters and religious nutcases coming by here.”
Brenda guided Alder into the home. He realized that this was the first time he had ever visited his coworker’s house. They’d gone out for drinks and attended parties and events together, a couple of times with Maria tagging along, but he’d never been to his home. Alder saw the interior was immaculate. The minimal amount of furniture appeared perfectly squared with the walls; a nominal amount of accoutrements adorned above. Alder had anticipated the home would be in a similar slovenly condition as when he had been single. As they passed through the kitchen to the back patio, the countertops were austere and bare. Alder wondered why a man would want to live this way. Oh yeah, a blind man probably needs to.
Brenda stayed behind in the house when Alder went outside.
“So they're still not leaving you alone huh?” Alder asked Stephen, who was staring into the backyard as if eyeing the rear fence.
“Hey Alder, what brings you by today? How’re things at work,” Stephen asked, thinking today's visit would be similar to previous visits or calls when Alder would vent or scout for help to assist him through his new position. Several times the requests yielded no useful information, especially since Stephen had had only limited access to many of the projects Alder was currently working on.
“One of Michelle's playmates had a birthday party in McForrester Park not too far from here, so I thought I'd stop by and say hey. Things are about the same at work. Still trying to get my head wrapped around a lot of the crap going on there.”
“It's not that bad, is it?” Stephen noted in a reassuring tone.
“You know, sometimes I wonder if Jeffrey was trying to cover up shit more than being just stupid. Hell, maybe both.”
“Well, you don't think they're fixing your stuff in the bull pen do you?”
“I doubt it. Remember how they used to be somewhat secretive about projects hitting the bullpen, and would get upset if something accidentally got processed incorrectly and ended up there? Now they've gotten so tight lipped about projects, barely anything makes it out.”
“Do they still have you signing shit without knowing what you're signing?
“Yeah, they do. I swear it's gonna bite me in the ass one day, watch.”
Brenda decided to break into the conversation and stepped outside onto the patio. “Did you both want something to drink, lemonade, iced tea, water?”
What Alder wanted was a beer or a shot of whiskey or gin. He decided on lemonade. So did Stephen.
“How long is your sister staying here with you?” Alder asked.
“I don't know. She was only down to help get me situated with my rehab trainer but, man, she's getting into some serious rows with her,” Stephen responded. “You should have heard the cat fighting before you got here.”
“Was that the trainer who left when I got here?”
Stephen was unable to mask being a bit unhappy about the situation between his sister and his trainer. “Yeah.”
“So how’s it going? Are you getting situated with, well, you know?” Alder queried, finding himself empathetic for his coworker but not quite sure how to complete his thought.
“I don't know. Sometimes I think if my sister didn't get in the way, it could be going better.”
“She's just watching out for you,” Alder commented, attempting to be supportive.
“She still thinks I'm five years old and needs to watch out for me...”
“Here's your lemonade,” Brenda interrupted, bringing out a platter with two tall glasses filled with ice and a pitcher of pink lemonade. Resting the platter on the patio table, she filled both glasses, placing one directly in her brother's hand. “And I'm going keep watching out for you as long as I need to so I know that you're gonna be all right,” she said, sounding as if she were addressing an adolescent.
Both men were caught off guard by Brenda’s patronizing of her younger brother. They surmised she must have heard part of their conversation. She went back inside after serving their refreshments.
&nb
sp; Alder was almost afraid to continue their conversation. “You think she's upset?” he asked.
“Probably. I think she's just being nice because you're here though,” Stephen snarked.
“That's not true.” Brenda's voice yelled out from inside the house through the patio door.
“Like I said,” Stephen continued, “she's just being nice since you're here.”
“How much older is she than you?” Alder asked.
“Don't you dare answer that,” Brenda yelled out again. “You may be blind, but I hope you're not stupid.”
Stephen revealed a small smile. Alder felt the tension ease for both men the first time since the incident. This was the most lighthearted Stephen had been.
The doorbell rang and caught the attention of all three. Brenda called out she would answer the door. Both Stephen and Alder kept quiet until she returned to announce the visitors.
“Stephen, there's a priest, a nun, and some college professor guy at the door wanting to talk to you. They said they talked to you once already when you were in the hospital and have a few more questions they'd like to ask you.”
Alder saw Stephen's warm expression go stoic. He sensed Stephen didn't want to be bothered.
“I don't feel like any guests right now sis. Tell them maybe later, but not today,” Stephen said.
Brenda went to turn away the unexpected guests. Alder suddenly thought that he should tell Stephen to receive the visitors. Was it the incident in the park? He wasn't sure.
“Stephen, I don't know why, but I think you should talk to them.”
Stephen turned his head in the direction of Alder's voice. “What do you mean? They're just a pain anyway. What good would it do?” Stephen asked. “I already told them everything I knew.”
Brenda returned and broke into their conversation. “They really want to talk to you Stephen, they say it’s extremely important.”
Stephen imagined the look on Alder's face as one of petitioning and disappointment. Although Alder thought Stephen should talk to the three, he wouldn't feel dejected if Stephen refused. Stephen surrendered to Alder's request.
“Go ahead and let them in,” Stephen said. When it sounded like his sister left, he decided to ask his friend a question. “Why do you think I should talk to them?”
Alder paused for quite a while, not sure how to answer. He finally decided. “Just a bit ago, back in the park, there was this strange homeless woman and she... well, she said some weird things.”
“Weird things like what?” Michael asked from inside the house as he approached the patio door, bypassing any formal introductions.
“Sorry about that Mr. Williams,” Father Hernandez apologized, also entering the patio. Then Sister Justine continued. “The first gentleman talking was Michael Saunders, I'm Sister Justine and also here is Father Hernandez from Our Lady of the Light Catholic Church. I don’t know if you remember us. We're researching the angelic visit incident where you lost your sight. We met you before at the hospital.”
Stephen focused on the voices and reached out his hand to shake and greet his visitors. They reciprocated. Stephen noted two of the handshakes were from hands with smooth, supple skin, somewhat weak and limber in their grasp. “I do remember you. What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Your friend here can tell us about that lady in the park,” Michael responded in a cocky tone.
“Really nothing to say, just a homeless lady with a bunch of junk and a weird smell. She said some weird stuff like most crazies who live in a park,” Alder responded.
“We came out here to talk to you Mr. Williams,” Sister Justine said, jumping in on the questioning of Alder to refocus to their original intent, knowing Michael was the one who wanted to come and talk to Stephen again.
Father Hernandez walked over and stood in front of Stephen, then dropped to one knee to meet him at face level. Stephen sensed a slight movement of air and could hear someone breathing directly in front of him, which made him feel rather apprehensive.
“Mr. Williams.”
“Call me Stephen,” he noted, sitting further back in his patio chair.
“All right Stephen,” Father Hernandez continued. “How much of the incident at the funeral home do you remember?”
“Like I told you before when I was in the hospital,” Stephen started, and then went through a synopsis of all the events he could remember. He detailed the sight of the angel, the unique smells, the name of the angel, the beautiful tonal voice that essentially sounded like the creature singing, and ultimately the sense of foreboding and feeling that he should leave the chapel area immediately.
The three unannounced visitors continued to ask probing questions. Soon they were asking the same questions in different ways to see if they could garner anything granular he may have forgotten. After a while, they recognized they were only successful in extracting the same information they already gathered and irritating Stephen.
“So, is there anything else interesting you could remember that could help us?” Father Hernandez asked compassionately while attempting to conceal being flustered.
“The whole event was interesting. But you know what was the most interesting of all?” Stephen answered, irked after being asked an incessant number of questions.
“What's that?”
“The fact that I'm blind,” Stephen jabbed.
The boy toy walked into that one, Michael thought. Also, after nearly 15 minutes of questioning by all three, Michael speculated that it might not have been a good idea to stop by. He had hoped the visit would’ve resulted in a revelation that could somehow tie in the fragments of information previously discovered.
“Well Stephen, we thank you for your time,” Father Hernandez said standing up, his legs cramped from kneeling the entire time they had interrogated Stephen. “We were hoping you could have told us more about the angel since you were the only one to see it,” Father Hernandez continued, getting ready to leave. Michael and Sister Justine were ready to follow the Father, who was heading to the patio door.
“Just like at the TV station. No one else saw the angel there either,” Stephen said.
“Excuse me?” Michael exclaimed, all three amazed by the disclosure.
“Yeah, I could have sworn I saw the same angel at the television studio at the same time I understood an angel showed up at another funeral the Sunday I was on the talk show.”
Alder saw this new information was of great interest to the visitors by their expressions. They were aware of the event at Crestview Funeral Home. Michael had been pondering the incident since it fueled his insistence in wanting to talk to Stephen again. He didn't know they would find out that Abriel had made another appearance apart from a funeral.
“I thought I was going crazy ‘cause no one else said they saw it. But a couple of stagehands and a cameraman said they had this really weird feeling, as if someone was standing there with them, but no one was there. I swear, though, it was right there in front of me. It looked it was the very same angel I saw when I went blind. Everybody thought I was crazy.”
“Mr. Williams?” Father Hernandez asked, returning to formality, “We thought you were blind all this time.” Everyone sensed the skepticism in the Father's question.
“Is that why you jumped out of your chair when you were on the show?” Sister Justine asked.
“You saw that?” Michael asked, “I thought at least you’d be in mass.”
“I had permission to miss that one so that I could watch and see if anything would be revealed during his interview. So Stephen, you said you were able to see the angel even though you're blind?” Sister Justine inquired.
“Look, I can't explain it; I just know that while I was sitting there, an angel shows up scaring the hell ou... sorry Father, Sister, scaring the crap out of me.”
“So what exactly happened?” Father Hernandez asked.
“The angel showed up, stood off in the background, and stared
me down for what I thought was a helluva long time. Then all of a sudden, it charged at me, stopped, stood face to face, and then disappeared. It scared the hell out of me.”
“And what happened after that? Anything else? It could be important,” Sister Justine queried.
“Nothing I can remember right now.”
“The angel didn't do anything else?” Michael asked.
“No, like I mentioned before, I don't recall anything else.”
Brenda stepped out onto the patio and up to the group. “Stevie, remember in the car on the way back, you said you thought it did say something?”
“I'd definitely call that a yes in the anything else category,” Michael quipped, of course earning an irate look from Sister Justine.
Stephen’s face had an astonished look of recall. “Oh yeah. Thanks sis. It did say something. I think it said Aurora.”
The three identified the name hearing it during their recent trip. Brenda could see this was interesting to the three visitors. The long silence made Stephen think maybe his interrogators might have been confused by the response. Michael glanced over to Alder, who’d gone completely pale.
“Excuse me, but does that name mean anything to you?” Michael asked Alder. “You know, I don't think we've been introduced,” Michael continued. Father Hernandez and Sister Justine turned toward Alder and saw his pale skin.
“Alder Dennison. I work with Stephen.”
“Well, it seems like that name means something to you.”
“Not really.”
“Not really or not at all?” Michael pressed.
The color returned to Alder's face as he became infuriated. “No, not at all.” Alder thought about the name Aurora. It had come across their desks several times before as a secretive project title that shouldn’t have been released to their department. Thanks to Jeffrey Bradfield, it had been exposed. Alder had also seen the name several times on his boss’s desk. If it weren't for the nondisclosure agreement associated with his new position, Alder felt he could have freely revealed some of this information but decided to protect it. The problem was that Stephen did not have to sign an agreement. Not being at the junior executive level, he did not have to deal with the same concerns of sensitive information.
“Well it seems odd, we heard the name while we were down in Aguascalientes,” Father Hernandez exclaimed.
“For some reason the name sounds familiar, I just don't know why,” Stephen commented.
Alder knew the reason and was thankful Stephen didn't remember. Even though Stephen was the one unyieldingly blinded, Alder now felt more involved in the shadows of everything currently happening.
“Mr. Williams, please try to remember where you heard the name before,” Father Hernandez pleaded. “Did the angel mention it to you the first time you went blind?”
Michael sneaked long peeks over at Alder, still visibly troubled by the conversation and the name Aurora. “Excuse me, what was your name again? I forgot that fast,” Michael probed, directing his question to Alder. Michael hadn’t forgotten, he wanted to try to keep Alder off guard and get candid responses for the questions he began to formulate in his head.
“Alder, Alder Dennison,” Alder responded, a bit perturbed that he had to announce his name again so quickly.
“Alden, are you sure the…”
“Alder.”
“Sorry, Alder. Are you sure the name doesn't ring a bell in any way? Maybe at church, work, with friends maybe?”
“Now I remember,” Stephen blurted out. “I remember where I saw the name before. It was at work.”
“Are you sure Stephen?” Alder asked, stepping in on the conversation.
Stephen recognized the voice asking the question. “Remember Alder, the name showed up on some of the misappropriations by Jeffrey Bradfield before he died. Those were some of the ones he got irate about.”
“Wait a minute, Aurora isn't the name of an angel?” Sister Justine asked.
“What Stephen doesn't realize is that our company happens to work on some extremely sensitive projects. Everyone isn’t allowed to know all that we do so that our trade secrets aren't revealed,” Alder said, making sure he got the information in.
“Trade secrets? Doesn't that sound a little strange Alder?” Everybody noted the ostentatious sarcasm in Michael's voice. “How could something in your company be associated with what we’re trying to find out?”
“Maybe the name Aurora is just a coincidence. They do happen you know,” Stephen reacted, trying to give a plausible explanation and hoping to close out the subject.
No one believed him. Regardless, Michael, Father Hernandez, and Sister Justine were intrigued by the correlation of the name Aurora from the witness in Mexico, to the visitation at the television station, to a project in a company where many of the employees had died. None of the three could immediately deduce anything to tie the fragments of data together, except perhaps the unique involvement of angels.
“Where do you both work again?” Father Hernandez asked.
Before Alder could answer and divert the attention of the three church visitors, Stephen answered the question. “Everest International Bio-Medical Group.”
Father Hernandez remembered the company name because they had asked Stephen shortly after he was admitted to the hospital. He also knew most of those who died were associated with that corporation, but the name didn't seem as important at the time.
“Mr. Dennison, we just got back a short while ago from the city of Aguascalientes in Mexico and an area outside of the town called El Refugio,” Father Hernandez commented. “Does that ring a bell at all? And please try to remember. We're working just as hard as the police to try and determine why just over a hundred poor souls were killed and to find out if an angel was the cause.”
Father Hernandez hoped the unconscious reflexes in his face wouldn’t reveal to anyone acutely aware of body language that he lied. He knew that the police officially closed the homicide portion of the case; they weren’t actively pursuing it anymore at the request of the Archdiocese.
“Look, I have no idea about anything in Mexico, and because you're not the police, we don't need to answer any more of these questions. Anything about Aurora is considered proprietary to my employer.”
Sister Justine tried to plead for more information. “Alder, Stephen, understand we’re trying to find out...”
Alder interrupted, “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave, and Stephen, please don't answer any more questions about the company and respect that we’re bound by confidentiality to keep our company information protected.”
Father Hernandez considered an attempt for a final appeal, but capitulated. “Mr. Dennison, if you have a change of heart and would like to discuss more of this with us, you can contact me at Our Lady of the Light Church.”
Alder didn't respond. Feeling uncomfortable with the discussion, and hearing the three church representatives discussing the name Aurora, he didn't want to stay and risk revealing any more information. He lied about Mexico. There were general ledger charges and capital expenditures for projects associated with a research lab and clinics in the Aguascalientes area. Without even saying goodbye to Stephen, he dashed to the patio exit. He felt he had already been too forthcoming. Stephen would be fine by himself with his three guests since, as far as Alder knew, the name Aurora had only come up a couple of times as part of misrouted accounting paperwork. As for himself, Alder knew more than he let on because he had gleaned some peripheral information working the projects in his new position.
As soon as Alder left the patio, Brenda sensed the three guests were ready to pounce on Stephen with more questions, but she intervened.
“You know, I think it may be a good idea if the three of you would leave please. My brother needs his rest. It’s been a long day for him.”
“We'd really like to stay and just ask a few more questions,” Father Hernandez urged.
Stephen wearied discussing anything else. Alder's hasty exit caused concern. Working with Alder for a number of years, he could sense in his voice that he was upset. “I agree with my sister, please leave now. Maybe later.”
Father Hernandez was getting ready to make one final plea. Sister Justine grabbed his forearm and squeezed with gentle pressure, which Michael observed. Father Hernandez caught the hint. “Thanks for your time Mr. Williams,” Father Hernandez said.
Brenda escorted the guests to the door and out of the house, her demeanor icy. They weren't worried about her as much as trying to embrace, and comprehend, everything that had transpired in their discussion. With this visit, the entire trip had yielded unique distinct fragments of information to their investigative research. The three had to admit to themselves that their key questions had yet to be answered: Why the visitations, why the two events where so many were killed, and how were they linked by the Everest Corporation?
The three researchers stood in silence by the car, each silently deliberating their next course of action. Michael knew he didn't want to see Bishop Grielle. Sister Justine could sense this but she knew they couldn't continue to avoid returning to see him. Father Hernandez, who had not felt overwhelmed earlier, now felt overcome by the plethora of unconnected data they’d discovered during the last week. It would be best to amass all their notes and consolidate the information into a single presentation as soon as possible. Bishop Grielle would be anxious, possibly impatient, to be briefed on what they’d found. Michael hoped he could remember all that he had just learned to be able to record it into his personal notes, independent of their official journal.
Sister Justine knew they would need to consider the divergent information before they continued doing anything else. “So, do you think it was a coincidence to hear the name Aurora here and down in Mexico?” she asked of her two companions.
“I don’t know if we can really say. But I do think we need to reconcile everything we found out up to this point before reporting back to his Excellency,” Father Hernandez responded. “He can probably wait until Monday or Tuesday and we can brief him then. Besides, I want to get ready and oversee all the services for mass tomorrow now that I'm back in town.”
Michael was taken aback, more so than Sister Justine, that Father Hernandez wanted to defer presenting any information to Bishop Grielle. She had been the one pressing the case to go and visit the bishop.
“We need to at least need to give him the courtesy of stopping by to debrief him about our trip,” she directed. “He is paying you a research fee Michael.”
“And what exactly are we going to tell him? I mean, when you get right down to it, we still haven't found any physical proof of what happened. A secondhand witness to our original witness in Mexico, and a blind man here who saw the same angel, that’s it.” Michael commented excitedly, gesturing with his hand to punctuate his statement. He pointed to Stephen's house and turned his head to emphasize. Father Hernandez and Sister Justine both reciprocated, turning their heads to the house as Michael's eyes widened in amazement. All three saw Brenda standing dead center of the oversized living room window, bordered by blue ruffled curtains, her arms crossed and an expression of contempt on her face.
“OK, that's weird,” Michael whispered loud enough for the other two to hear. “Let's get the hell out of here.”
They agreed to get in the car and drive off, still unsettled about what to do next, mystified by Brenda’s angry demeanor in the window.
As for Brenda, she was extremely hostile toward the Church. Both she and Stephen were raised as Catholics. Their parents felt they both should make their own decision relating to religion and follow their own paths toward belief on their own once they became adults. Both siblings had decided not to partake in any of the Holy Sacraments or pursue other religions or beliefs. Stephen, not wanting to upset his older sister, at times wanted to quench his curiosity about the Church and its doctrines. He would sneak off to talk to their local priest but never fully committed to accepting membership, though he’d come close a couple of times. Their parents, nonetheless, remained active in the Church. Over time, they enthusiastically described how their local parish had veered in a new evangelical direction in its teachings. Both parents abandoned their earlier idea of letting their children decide for themselves and began encouraging Brenda and Stephen to reconsider joining the Church. Both children believed their parents had become extremely religious, reading the Bible more frequently and praying every night. Shortly after, their mother and father, along with many in the congregation of their parish, disappeared, with countless others. Brenda blamed the Church for the loss. Stephen had wondered since then if something religious happened and had always wanted to research more of what the local priest had espoused.
The Fallen and the Elect Page 45