The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  “I agree with you, Jeremiah, but I have this gnawing feeling in my stomach that I can’t shake…”

  “Look, when I go to work today, I’ll ask Dad what the name of his girlfriend back then was. Let’s see what he says.”

  Jeremy hugged Camilla close. “Honey, please stop this and enjoy your day! It’s your birthday, for Pete’s sake! Look, I’ll be home around five, and then we’ll head out for dinner to the Diplomat. Enjoy this beautiful day and don’t upset yourself, sweetie.”

  Camilla put her arms around Jeremy, “I hope I am not upsetting you, Jeremiah… It’s your birthday today, too.”

  “See, honey, just another coincidence, right?”

  The first thing Camilla asked Jeremy as he came into the door was, “Did you ask your father what his girlfriend’s name was?”

  “Oh, geez honey, it was so busy, I forgot. But listen, Grandma knows. When we drop off Joshua at her place on the way to the restaurant we can ask her.”

  “All the way to Mary Pederson’s home, not a word was spoken between Jeremy and Camilla. Even Joshua, perhaps sensing something between his parents, remained silent until they parked just outside of the house.

  “I see Nana at the door. Let me out!”

  “Just hold your horses, Josh.’

  Jeremy opened the door and Joshua scrambled out and ran up the stairs to Mary’s open arms. Both Jeremy and Camilla got out and approached Mary.

  “Thank you so much for watching Josh for us. We shouldn’t be more than two hours.”

  “Oh don’t rush, I love to watch Joshua and happy birthday again, Camilla and to you, too, Jeremy! It’s quite a thing for the both of you to celebrate your birthdays on the same day. Did you have a nice day?”

  “Yes, it was fine. I didn’t eat all day and so my stomach is growling.”

  “Yeah, I’m hungry too, so we better go.” And just as Jeremy turned he asked the big question that was burning in both his and Camilla’s mind, “Say, Grandma, Camilla and I were wondering what Dad’s girlfriend’s name was when he was fifteen? You know the one you said moved to Ottawa and never heard from her again?”

  Mary wrinkled her brow and gazed at them, a puzzled look growing on her face. “Her name was Jennifer, but most of the time I believe Henry called her Jenny. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, we were just curious. You know, it’s kinda cute Dad having a girlfriend back then. We always think of him as having known our Mom forever. See ya in a couple of hours, Grandma.”

  Jeremy took Camilla’s hand and almost floated to the Jeep. Relief clearly evident in their step and demeanour.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Although James had intended to move back to the estate after Jenny left, business commitments hadn’t allow him the time to do so. He had a serious stomach ailment at the time which turned out to be an ulcer and not prostate cancer that had killed his father. Over the winter however, the ulcer got worse and the doctors ordered him to rest for a month or longer. Rather than stay in his condo he elected to convalesce at the estate for the remainder month of June.

  Rising from the patio chair where he had been resting, he walked down the winding path of the grounds. Jenny had made that same journey so many times over the years she lived on the estate, and he could never understand what drew her back down the same walkway time and again. He considered it boring and a waste of time. But, he was stuck on the estate for at least another week and was tired of sitting.

  As he made his way down the path, James had to admit that the grounds were beautiful. The closer he got to the gazebo, the more the immense spray of different flowers teased his vision. Even his hard nose had to twitch, tantalized by the growing aroma. James was not used to such a natural fragrance. It both weakened and strengthened him at the same time. He was relieved to see the chair inside the gazebo. He shuffled towards it as quickly as he could and sat down.

  Letting out a long sigh, his eyes were instantly captivated by the dazzling, brilliant colour of the wildflower patch. While it overwhelmed James, it bothered his sense of order and precision. There was no rhythm or reason to it, just a scatter of flowers, all so different and, yet, so compatible.

  If only people of the world could live in such harmony.

  As quickly as the thought popped into his head, James rejected the notion as preposterous and impossible. He chastised himself for even entertaining such a ridiculous prospect.

  Some of the flowers near one side of the patch appeared more radiant than the others. James’ gaze rested upon them for a moment and then followed the source of light to a statue of an angel with a glowing aura shimmering around it. James became transfixed by the image before him. It truly was a beautiful angel and the bouquet of flowers lying in the angel’s basket seemed almost more glorious and emanated even greater radiance. James rose and walked over to it to study the angel more closely.

  As he approached this extraordinary vision, Thomas walked down the stone-paved lane. They reached the statue at the same time and stood silently before the heavenly sight.

  James’s voice broke the silence. “Where did this statue come from, Thomas? I haven’t been aware of it before.”

  “This is a gift that we gave to Mrs. Hamilton. Me and the other workers. She called it the ‘Angel of Thanksgiving.’ Everyday when she was here she would place flowers in the basket giving thanks to someone or for something.”

  James was stunned by this revelation. Had he known the staff was doing this he would not have allowed it. He vehemently despised patronage or association between themselves and the workers. His perturbed feelings, however were calmed by the freshly cut, glimmering bouquet of flowers in the basket.

  “I assume you are continuing Mrs. Hamilton’s practice of placing new flowers in the basket daily?” James asked in an unsettling tone.

  Thomas hesitated for a moment. “No, Mr. Hamilton. I am not. These flowers were placed there by Mrs. Hamilton herself on the day she left the estate.”

  “That’s preposterous! Marjorie left last fall. At best cut flowers will last two weeks but to survive over the winter is ridiculous. These flowers look as though they were cut this morning. Someone is playing you for a fool, Thomas. You or someone else must be replenishing them and…watering and tending to them somehow…?”

  “I assure you, Mr. Hamilton, neither I nor Ramon have touched or placed any new flowers into this basket. These are the very ones that Mrs. Hamilton placed in here the day before she left the estate. I saw her put them in and the truth of the matter is, I have not touched them or watered them in all that time. It’s astonishing, isn’t it?”

  James was flabbergasted. “Are you certain that neither you nor anyone else has cared for these flowers since last fall!?”

  “Yes, sir. That is the case.”

  “Were you speaking to Mrs. Hamilton that morning when she placed the flowers in the basket?”

  “Yes, sir—”

  “Did she say what they were in thanksgiving for?”

  A quiet silence descended upon them. Even the robin resting in the tree above held its breath waiting for Thomas to answer.

  “Yes, she did, Mr. Hamilton.” Thomas turned from the angel and gazed at his employer. “They were meant for you, sir. She wanted to thank you for giving her such a beautiful garden while she lived here.” And, after a brief reflection, tears welling in his eyes, he added, “It was a gift of love and thanksgiving for you. I believe that is what has sustained these flowers, Mr. Hamilton.”

  It was as if a bolt of lightning came out of a cloudless sky and struck James to the core, cracking through his hard exterior. He began backing away from Thomas and the Angel of Thanksgiving, on his face a look of horror and disbelief. How could Jenny have given him a gift of love and thanksgiving after what he did to her?

  Suddenly, James stopped staggering and, like a statue himself, seemed to begin to break apart, piece
by piece, as the realization of what Jenny had done overwhelmed his heart and soul. As tears filled his eyes, he made no move to stop them. He stood exposed, his guard down, his defensiveness gone, weeping uncontrollably before the angel and his grounds-keeper. His old self crumbled while his heart softly strengthened by the touch of love. He was so awestruck by Jenny’s act, despite his actions towards her that he remained speechless and unable to move. He wanted to reject it all and gain control, but was defenceless to do so.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw tears streaming down Thomas’ cheeks, as well. Feelings of embarrassment and shame crawled their way from James’ rubbery legs to the top of his head. He couldn’t stop his crying or his lips and chin from quivering. Instead of appreciating and accepting the miraculous sight and gift before him, he began to imagine what he must look like in such a weakened state before one of his subordinates. And suddenly, James remembered that it wasn’t he who treated Jenny badly, it was she who had betrayed him! It was Jenny who he reviled! The thought of receiving love from a woman who caused him such revulsion pushed its way through the brief moment of ecstasy he had enjoyed.

  Old thoughts and feelings joined forces to fill James’ mind with ideas he knew and understood and was comfortable with. He could not accept a gift from the woman who was impure, touched by others… and raped. The thought that he had actually made love to her sent him mentally spewing vulgarities.

  Thomas, being a man of peace, stepped back as he sensed anger, hostility and hatred filling James, even though a word had not yet been spoken. As Thomas’ eyes shifted from James back to the Angel of Thanksgiving, he saw the flowers squirming and twisting, as if in pain. Little did he know that for each thought of hatred towards Jenny that entered James’ mind, one of the beautiful wildflowers in the basket began to die. Before their very eyes, the magnificent bouquet that had shimmered with such light for months on end began to dim, shrivel and dry. Within seconds, the flowers were completely dead, so brittle and devoid of life, they cracked apart and became dust. The gentle breeze flowing through the garden lifted the remains and scattered them about until the basket was left empty except for the odd trace and fragment of a dried petal or stem.

  And as the power and wonder of the vision abated, James’ old strength increased. Control was back and his old senses restored.

  “Thomas!” James bellowed, ignoring Thomas’ startled expression. “I want this damn thing taken away. Get it out of my sight. I don’t want to see it anywhere on the grounds.”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  James turned abruptly from the angel. “And these wildflowers, roto-till them up. They lack order and look so wild and haphazard. What are those flowers in front of the house, Thomas?”

  “You mean the petunias and marigolds?”

  “Yes, those are the ones. They are neat and in nice straight rows and easily identifiable. Plant them here, instead.”

  Thomas could barely agree to the order. The life of the garden would be taken away. He gazed at his employer making certain he heard him correctly then slowly hung his head.

  “Yes, sir.”

  As James stormed back to the house he began swatting the butterflies away and spewing curses at them. Just before he entered through the patio doors he turned and bellowed at Thomas.

  “And get rid of these damn butterflies! Spray them, do what you have to and pull up all those stinky milkweed plants. I should never have allowed Marjorie to grow them.”

  Thomas didn’t answer. He was devastated by the order. It would be like killing family.

  Later in the morning, Thomas and Ramon moved the Angel of Thanksgiving into the tool shed. Thomas fought to control the tears and sorrow as he saw the beloved statue amongst the tools, hoses, dirty boxes and gasoline cans.

  “Why do we have to place the angel in here?” asked Ramon.

  “It’s sad, Ramon. Mr. Hamilton’s nature is still not yet open to receive acts of love. Perhaps someday when more tears flow from his heart, he will see.”

  As they turned to leave the shed, they both noticed the nimbus of light coming from the angel. And strangely, instead of the oily and gasoline smell, a sweet fragrance filled the air. Their spirits lifted as they looked at one another then both bowed their heads in prayer towards the shimmering statue.

  “Remind me to pick some flowers and place them in the basket, Ramon. Mr. Hamilton needs our mistress’ continuing prayers.”

  To remove the Angel of Thanksgiving from the grounds was one thing, but to roto-till the wildflower patch was something Thomas could not bring himself to do. It had been such a source of joy and beauty not only for Miss. Jenny, but for them, as well.

  “Ramon, my heart cannot bear to do this task. Would you please till the flowers?”

  Thomas turned and quickly walked away as he heard the tiller fire up. Each time he heard the motor bear down into the lavish thick garden, stabs of pain doubled him over.

  By late afternoon the area around the gazebo looked dead and barren. All the beauty, grace, charm, and radiance of colour which gave the grounds its ethereal atmosphere had been replaced by the cold, hellish world James lived in. He smiled from his second floor bedroom window as he saw Ramon uproot and destroy the last memories of his soiled ex-wife.

  The next day, however, as James made his way back to the gazebo, new wildflowers had already poked their way through the dark rich soil. By mid-afternoon, the dirt was covered with an unbelievable spray of dazzling flowers.

  As James stood there in a daze, Thomas arrived and was also taken aback by the scene. He instantly knew it was his mistress’ love, her gift to James and her heavenly haven that could not be destroyed.

  James was once again struck speechless. His face reddened as anger overtook him. He stormed back to the house and within an hour was dressed and out the front door, determined never to set foot on the estate again. Destiny, however, had different plans. James would be back much sooner than he thought…

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was July 6, and if Julean were alive she would have braced herself for a night of restless sleep. During all the years of her marriage to Henry, his dreams of his teenage sweetheart manifested the most on this day. Julean had come to learn much of Henry and Jenny’s relationship through her dear husband’s dreams. July 6 was the day they had met and fell into a deep, everlasting love that stood the test of time.

  Just as it happened every year, Henry’s dreams of Jenny that night were more vivid than ever. It was as if he were reliving for the first time how powerfully he was stirred when he saw Jenny Sarsky walk past his house on her way to Mr. Engelmann’s store. In his dream, he followed her to the store where they had first met and the moment he gazed into her eyes he was completely smitten all over again. It was love at first sight; the yearning in his heart for Jenny was as strong now as it had been then.

  How many times had he dreamt that dream and played that scene out in his mind over the years? What was it that had such a power to keep this love so alive for all those years? He recalled to this day something being caught in his eyes when their gazes were locked into one another…what was it that had such an electrifying surge of energy?

  Just last year he had slipped into a similar reverie when he was being interviewed by Brenda, the journalist from the Leader Post Sun. He was still amazed how quickly he was drawn back to that summer and the effort he had to exert to pull himself back to the moment.

  In just two short months in 1956 a love was sown that has lasted to the present day. Henry turned over and recalled the phrase that Jenny so often said, “Quickly, hold my hand.” Instinctively he squeezed his hand tightening his grip around Julean’s rosary.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. He brought the rosary to his lips. If she had not encouraged him to seek Jenny or another out he would be guilt ridden for days.

  Henry decided to get up and enjoy the day at home. When he spoke with
Ivania yesterday he was glad that she had a seminar and had to cancel their date for this evening.

  He couldn’t wait for nightfall. He wanted to gaze at the star of the east…

  In the same way she celebrated Camilla’s birthday each year, so too Jenny still thought of Henry and their anniversary as well. Now that she and James were divorced, she no longer felt pangs of guilt for thinking on these thoughts. However, she knew they were just memories, consoling perhaps, but just memories that held no promise.

  Yet, there was something that kept drawing her back to that memorable summer that was filled with such promise for a life of bliss together. She reached up and gently took hold of the pewter angel hanging on the end of her necklace. What if she and Henry had received each other’s letters back then, how would her life have been so different? Would they have married and had children? Would they be living in Regina or on his acreage…?

  “Oh, Jen, don’t torture yourself so. Henry is married and has a beautiful family. What was done was done.”

  Try as she might, Jenny just couldn’t push her first love out of her mind. Being so alone without any family support except for friends, Jenny found thoughts of Henry uplifting and comforting. It was the one time she allowed the past to steal away the precious moments of the present.

  Jenny took her diary out to the backyard. It was coming along so beautifully. The landscaper and his help were doing such a lovely job and each day fulfilling her dreams of what the yard might look like. Many days, she too, worked side by side with the landscaper both in the designing and planting of flowers and plants.

  The carpenters had built the platform for the gazebo so that Jenny could plant all the wildflowers. She even left a spot where the Angel of Thanksgiving would go in anticipation that James would ship it to her. The carpenters promised to finish the gazebo that fall. In the meantime Jenny had set a wooden lawn chair beside a cedar table on the platform so she could still use the partially constructed gazebo until the rest of it was built.