Vigil

by Cecilia Samartin

  I stayed where I was, and Jessie rushed down the stairs to greet her brother. “Teddy, thank God you’re here,” she said, taking hold of his hand. “Daddy’s been asking for you. He’s waiting for you, Teddy.”

  Teddy and Jessie rushed up the stairs together arm in arm, but when they passed me Teddy didn’t acknowledge my presence with so much as a word or even a glance in my direction. After they entered their father’s room, I joined Millie, who was watching me with sad, weary eyes.

  “How did you know he’d come?” she asked.

  “Teddy’s always had a good heart,” I said, taking hold of her arm.

  We walked together toward the kitchen. “While you were upstairs I made a big pot of spaghetti. I’ll serve you some now, and you’ll sleep much better with something in your stomach, you’ll see.”

  Millie served me a plate, and I managed to take a bite or two, but then dropped my fork when a terrible thought occurred to me. What if Teddy mentioned the documents to his father? Incredibly, Benson and I hadn’t discussed this possibility and how to prevent it. I was frantic by the time Benson appeared at the back door moments later. He lifted the pot lid to inspect its contents, and Millie promptly served him a plate, explaining that Fred was expecting her home within the hour, but that she’d be back the following day.

  “Is that Teddy’s car in the drive?” he asked once Millie left.

  “He’s here now,” I replied. “But I’m worried, Benson, very worried. What if Teddy mentions the documents to Adam? I hadn’t thought about that until just now. How could I be so stupid?”

  Benson set his plate aside. “Don’t worry, Ana. When I delivered the documents the same thought occurred to me, so I told Teddy the only thing that came to mind—that he shouldn’t mention the changes while he was here because you didn’t know about them yet and Adam didn’t want you to find out any sooner than necessary.”

  I placed my hand over my chest. “I hope it works,” I muttered.

  Benson ate two full plates of spaghetti and was contemplating a third when Jessie entered the kitchen, her face flush with emotion. “He’s calling for you, Nana,” she said. “You should come now.”

  I left Benson and rushed upstairs with Jessie just as Teddy was coming down. This time he stopped when he saw me. His eyes were large and glistening with tears. His sorrow had carved deep furrows into his face that made him look much older than he was. His eyes met mine, and for an instant it was as if nothing had changed between us. I was once again comforting him in the middle of the night, wiping away his tears and telling him that all the monsters were far away and couldn’t hurt him. But then a shade of resentment fell over his eyes again, and he looked past me.

  Nevertheless, I said, “I’m glad you came, Teddy. It’s good to see you again.”

  He focused his cold eyes upon my face and said, “I came for my father, not for you, Ana.”

  “You don’t have to be rude,” Jessie said. “That doesn’t help things.”

  “Leave it be,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder, and I quickly left them on the landing, realizing that for the first time in his life, Teddy had pronounced my name correctly.

  The evening had descended, and the night-light glowed next to my beloved’s bed, faintly illuminating his face. It had been days since I’d seen him look so peaceful and serene. His eyes fluttered open when he heard me pull up a chair, and when he saw that it was me, he smiled. “Ana,” he whispered, his eyes glistening. “Teddy was here.”

  “Yes, I saw him,” I said, taking his hand, and it felt so cold that I shuddered.

  “I have my son back, and I know in my heart that I have you to thank for it,” he said.

  “Teddy came because he loves you. He loves you very much.”

  His eyes struggled to stay open as he weakly squeezed my hand. “You’ve taught me so much,” he whispered. “My life is complete because of you, and now all I wish is that we had more time.”

  “Adam, please,” I said, unable to control the grief tearing through my heart. “Don’t say anymore.”

  “But I must,” he said, squeezing my hand again. “Neither of us had the chance to say it before, and we can’t let this opportunity slip away, no matter how difficult it is.”

  Although we’d never spoken about it before, I knew exactly what he meant, so I nodded as I kissed his hand and held it to my cheek, bracing myself as best I could.

  “I know the reason,” he whispered. “The reason why you survived the war in your country and came here to us.”

  “Why is it, my love?”

  “Because we couldn’t have survived without you. We’ve always needed you to show us the way, Ana. And my children still need you now.”

  “And I need you, my love,” I replied.

  He shook his head and was about to speak again, but I placed my fingers over his lips to stop him. “No, Adam,” I said, knowing and dreading what would come next. “Please don’t say it.”

  He took my fingers away from his mouth. “Then you say it,” he whispered.

  “I can’t,” I replied, shaking my head and fully sobbing now. He waited until I had stopped crying, and when I saw him gazing tenderly at me, I realized that he was prepared to wait forever in agony if I needed him to, but I couldn’t stand to think that he would suffer one more second because of my cowardice. So I gathered myself together as best I could, looked into his eyes, and said what I wished I could’ve said to my mother and Carlitos the last time I saw them: “Goodbye, my darling. I will always love you.”

  He smiled and responded, barely above a whisper, “And I will always love you, Ana. Tell me that I’ll see you again.”

  “Yes, you will see me again. I promise that you will.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. “Goodbye,” he whispered.

  That very night my beloved and I strolled hand in hand through the streets of my village. It had just rained, and the air was fresh as our feet sunk into the moist earth. Despite the recent storm, the sky was the brightest blue imaginable and the ground, the huts, and the trees shimmered with golden light so that even ordinary rocks appeared as polished jade. And in the distance, the river that had always been muddy was a flowing ribbon of clean, clear water. Never had my little village looked so pristine and beautiful.

  Villagers peeked out their windows and stood in their doorways to look at us. Some smiled and waved while others stared, trying to figure out who we were and why we were there. Stray dogs wandered about, but unlike the way I remembered them, they appeared well fed and content.

  I saw Dolores sitting on her porch relaxing when her husband suddenly appeared from inside and handed her a cup of coffee to enjoy in her repose. When she saw me, she pointed toward a small shop with a glass window displaying many different colored dresses. “You’ll find her there,” she said.

  Two boys were playing dice on the front step of the shop, and I recognized Carlitos and Manolo at once. Manolo’s white tennis shoes looked brand-new, and when Carlitos saw me, he waved his arms exuberantly and beckoned me to come quickly as he always did when inspired by a new game. When we walked up to him, he wrapped his skinny arm around my shoulders and shook my beloved’s hand in a manly fashion, although he still looked like the same little boy I’d vowed to marry so long ago. “She’s been expecting you,” he said and my beloved simply nodded.

  We entered the shop and found Mama sitting at her sewing machine, focused on her work. When she looked up, her eyes gaped in wonder at us and then she smiled broadly. I immediately ran to her and embraced her. “Mama,” I cried. “You look so well, and what a beautiful shop you have. It’s even more beautiful than I imagined it would be.”

  “Thank you, mija,” she replied, pleased by my reaction. “Do you like the dresses I’ve made?”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like them because they’re all for you—each and every one. Why don’t you take a closer look and see which one you like the best?” she said, giving me an
encouraging nudge toward the window.

  Then she turned to my beloved. “And who is this?” she asked, her eyes glittering as they did when she already knew the answer to her question. “Oh, I know. You must be the one I’ve heard so much about—the one who’s made a liar out of me. Come and sit down,” she said, pulling out a chair only for him. Deciding that I’d have plenty of time to admire the dresses later, I looked around for a place to sit as well, but there was no other chair in the shop. There was only the sewing machine and cabinet. This would have to do.

  As Mama and my beloved began to chat, I pushed it toward the table and leaned upon it. All at once the shop, the window full of dresses, my mother, and my beloved became enveloped by a gray misty cloud that thickened before my eyes until I couldn’t see them any longer. I was surrounded by a chilling darkness and I felt myself falling away from them at a fantastic speed. As I fell, the darkness surrounding me became solid as a stone wall that I tried to push away with my hands and my feet, but the harder I pushed, the harder it pressed down upon me, until I was barely able to breathe. Still, in the distance I heard the faint sounds of Mama and my beloved talking and laughing. Their voices were whirling away from me as I called out to them, “Don’t leave me here again. Please…don’t leave me here again.” But I couldn’t hear them anymore, and they could no longer hear me, so again I pushed away the darkness with all of my strength until my muscles ached and my bones nearly splintered.

  Then all at once, a flash of light burst against my eyes, and I found myself lying next to my beloved just as the first ray of sun slid through the window shade. My arms were still wrapped around him, but his chest was no longer rising and falling against me. I kissed his cheek and stayed with him until dawn’s faint glow filled the room.

  Nineteen

  I LEFT THE TRELLIS house immediately, knowing that this is what Teddy wanted. Sister Josepha insisted that I move back to the convent with her for a few days. Once I felt stronger, we would go to New Mexico together where I would begin a new life. I agreed to this plan because I needed to be near her and because I lacked the strength and clarity of mind to propose any other.

  Mother Superior was happy to see me again and made it a point to look in on me from time to time. It seemed that the years had softened her, or perhaps they’d hardened me, because when she stared at me silently for those long discerning moments as she used to do, I met her gaze knowing that whatever she saw in me now, there was very little I could do to change it. I was who I was. And although I was deeply touched by her interest and concern, I was always relieved when our brief meetings came to an end, because it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend I was on the mend.

  The truth is that never in my life had I known such profound and utter silence. It melted through my skin and sunk down into the pores of my bones like molten lava. It hardened into a thick black crust that sealed me off from the rest of the world. Disembodied voices floated about the periphery of my dark island, well-meaning voices talked at me about the sensibility of grief as though it were a benign illness that needed to run its course. “Only time can heal the wound of such a loss,” they said, and, “You must take care of yourself now.” “Pray and give your pain to the Lord. He will never abandon you.” “Go ahead and cry and let your feelings flow. You can’t stop them any more than you can stop a raging river.” “Death is a part of life.”

  I knew that all of these things were true, but I had lost not only my beloved, but the pillar that held the roof up over my life. And I yearned for death like a new day. It was the dark sun rising on the horizon, and when I pictured my skinny corpse lying next to my beloved in a bed of decay, I felt peace envelop me like a silken shroud. “Take me, dear Lord,” I prayed. “Take me so that I can be with those I love and those who love me.” But my heart continued to beat, and I was unable to stop myself from breathing.

  The day before my beloved’s funeral, Benson came by to see me. I could tell by the way he dragged his feet and hung his head that there was something he’d come to say to me and that it was difficult for him.

  “What is it, Benson?”

  “Am I that easy to read?” he asked with a sheepish smile that only accentuated the sadness in his eyes. He sighed. “Teddy called me this morning, and he asked me to ask you not to come to the funeral. Lillian is quite hysterical. It seems that she’s suddenly become the grieving, inconsolable wife,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “and Teddy’s concerned that your presence will be an unbearable humiliation for her in front of her friends and that it just might push her over the edge.”

  “I see,” I replied, not at all surprised to hear it. Lillian typically caved in like this after she’d misbehaved, and even if she wasn’t willing to admit it to anyone else, I knew that she felt badly for how she’d treated Adam those last days. What’s more, I knew that she couldn’t resist the dramatic role of the still young and beautiful widow.

  “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t go, Ana. I’m just relaying his message, that’s all.”

  We sat down on the bench that was situated beneath a willow tree. “What do you think I should do?” I asked.

  “I think you should do whatever is right for you,” Benson replied. “If you want to go, I’ll be by your side and we’ll face Lillian’s insanity together. How bad can it be?”

  Knowing how Benson felt about Lillian and what little help he’d be, I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Benson,” I said. “I’ll think about it and see how I feel tomorrow. Perhaps she won’t notice me.”

  “That’s a distinct possibility. From what I understand, there will be hundreds of people in attendance. Lillian’s hired musicians, and the caterers are already preparing food for the reception.” He paused when he saw the expression on my face. “What is it?”

  “It sounds like another one of Lillian’s grand parties that Adam always tried his best to avoid.”

  Benson nodded sadly. “This time he has no choice.”

  Jessie showed up later that same afternoon with a very different message. “I don’t care what Teddy and Mom want,” she said, clinging to my arm as we sat together in the garden. “I want you there, Nana. I need you there.”

  “But if your mother gets upset, it could make the situation very awkward for everyone,” I replied.

  Jessie shook her head and shut her eyes tight. “Why does everyone always tiptoe around my mother as though she were some kind of porcelain doll that might break into a thousand pieces? The truth is that she’s made out of fortified rubber. She’s always bounced her way through life without a scratch and she always will. Now that Daddy’s gone, she breaks down in tears every five minutes and says that he was the most tolerant and wonderful man in the world. Just last week she was calling him every name in the book. I think she’s full of shit,” she concluded with a humph.

  “I agree with your mother. Your father was the most wonderful and tolerant man in the world,” I replied.

  “I know he was, but—”

  I gently pressed her arm. “Jessie, there are some people who can’t appreciate what they have until they lose it. Knowing your mother, she’s suffering just as much if not more than we are because along with her grief, she has to contend with her guilt.”

  Jessie shook her head fervently, refusing to accept my words, and then she broke down and I held her as she wept. “I want to hate her but I can’t,” she said.

  “Hate is never the answer,” I replied, remembering Sister Josepha’s wise words from long ago, but I lacked the strength to say anything else.

  Jessie gazed at me, her eyes pleading. “Please come tomorrow,” she said. “I miss you so much, and it feels like I’m losing you too.”

  “I’ll try my best,” I said.

  But the next morning I was unable to get out of bed without nearly collapsing. Sister Josepha stationed herself next to me and prayed, but this was unable to quell the sour feeling in my stomach and the incessant aching in my bones. I felt that I would be unable to ke
ep down food or water, but Sister Josepha insisted on bringing meals to my room, which was frowned upon at the convent. Only the most elderly sisters enjoyed such a privilege and then only when they were ill and unable to come to the table. Since she had broken the rules for me, I made an effort to eat a little more, but I was only able to keep down a few bites. I was sinking through the layers of darkness one at a time, and a strong hand was leading me to my death. I was unable to attend my beloved’s funeral, but I knew that I’d be with him soon. And when I closed my eyes and held my breath I could almost hear his music playing in my heart.

  In this state, it was difficult to know how many hours or days had passed. I had no doubt that Benson and Jessie would be by to see me eventually, but I hoped that they’d stay away for a few days. I needed time to rest my mind and body, to meditate and pray and find my bearings again. Sister Josepha was content to spend long stretches of time with me in my room or in the garden. We prayed the rosary together and sometimes we sat in the garden and listened to the birds. She watched me as one would an egg that is beginning to hatch. I knew she was waiting for the fog to lift from my heart and soul, knowing that healing such as this couldn’t be rushed. She brought me broth and tea and kept the other sisters away with kindly assurances that I was fine and had suffered a great shock and that all I needed was time to recover, time to find my way back to my life again. When she said these things, I listened to her as if she were talking about somebody else, for more than ever I felt that I was caught up in a current that would take me far away forever, and I was happy to go.

  She rarely left me, but one afternoon she had to leave the convent to run an errand, and I found myself alone for the first time in days. I sat in a chair in my room, and my eyes settled on my bedside table. It was odd to see it clear and not cluttered with a multitude of Adam’s medications and half-empty water glasses. It was odd to no longer be waiting, and it seemed that finally time had found a way to stand still, but now I wanted it to rush by as quickly as possible. There was nothing to wait for, nothing to hope or live for. Sister Josepha had been gone only for a few minutes, but already it felt as though she’d been away for hours.