The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  A surge of wonder soared through Jenny. This was beyond coincidental…

  Jenny looked at the invoice. “Just give me a minute, Mr. Carson, I’ll write out a cheque and then it’s all looked after.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Ms. Hamilton. I’m not much good at bookkeeping and sending out invoices.”

  Jenny returned in a few minutes and gave the carpenter the cheque and the two men left out the back gate next to the garage.

  “Oh, I just have to meet Camilla. I was so excited when Matilda described Camilla to me and now two more opinions were expressed confirming even more than what Matti had told me.”

  Jenny could hardly wait to speak with Mrs. Blake, the social worker in Ottawa. Jenny had called a few days ago, but rather than take her holidays during the summer, Miss Blake took her holidays for the month of September.

  Well, I’ve waited this long to reconcile with my daughter, thought Jenny, another few weeks won’t matter. I just hope she has some workable suggestions on how to relate with Camilla so that I don’t interfere in any way with Henry and his family.”

  Jenny seemed as if she was on a cloud as she strolled to the backyard to have a closer look at the gazebo.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” Jenny exclaimed.

  She went inside and sat on the swing. It was perfect. Her feet just dangled a couple inches off the floor so she could swing unimpeded. She closed her eyes and imagined Camilla and her swinging side by side. Oh, it would be so much fun!

  Jenny left her haven and looked around at the backyard. It could use just two or three more pyramidal cedars to hide more of the fence and then it would be complete.. The yard for the most part was as she had envisioned it.

  Jenny tossed her hands up in the air trying to entice the remaining few butterflies that hadn’t left for their long trek back to Mexico. She loved it when they landed on her hand. She was thankful that so many were attracted to her yard since that spring.

  Perhaps she will drive to the nursery to see if they had any more milkweed plants to place behind the gazebo now that it was built. She loved the butterflies and how they flitted about like angels. Jenny was certain that she received several messages of love through them from Tammy and her mom and dad over the summer.

  “Oh, Tammy, I wish you were here. I miss our talks so much. I know you would be able to help me to decide how to approach Camilla and the Pederson family. And that reminds me, I have to call Chloe and see how she is doing. She is so much like you, Tammy, so dedicated to saving baby’s lives. It’s all so unbelievable what’s happening because of these silly laws allowing mother’s to kill the precious gift of a child within their womb. And for doctors, who strive daily to heal the sick and save lives, that they could actually perform one abortion after the other is incomprehensible!

  Just then the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Jenny, it’s Joan. Did your company come?”

  “Yes, my friend Matilda only had three days including flying time so it was a short but very sweet visit. However, we did have a chance to enjoy Sunday dinner together, so that was nice, and we had a nice chat.”

  “That’s good. Have you got time to come over for coffee or tea?”

  “I was just thinking of going to the nursery, but I can swing by that way first. You live on Smith Street near College Avenue?”

  “That’s right. The two storey white house with the attached garage. And since Smith Street is a one way street heading south, it’s best to go down Albert Street to 14th Avenue, turn right and then right again on Smith. The Pederson Gallery is on that corner, you can’t miss it. ”

  “Yes, I remember, I’ll see you in about twenty minutes. Bye.”

  Jenny knew only too well where the gallery was. On several occasions she had driven by and always ached to go inside. She had heard so many exciting things about Henry’s shop and how beautiful it was. On two occasions she turned down an invitation from lady friends to have lunch in the café and then browse through the many different shops in the complex. Jenny was perturbed with herself for doing this, but she was adamant not to cause a problem or interfere with the Pederson family in any way.

  Jenny was going to put the top of her convertible down, but it looked like it might rain and so decided against it. She couldn’t get over how quickly she could navigate from one part of the city to the other as compared to Ottawa. In no time she was at 14th Avenue and turned east towards Smith Street. Since 14th Ave. was a one way street, cars traveled in two lanes. To her left was a red SUV. Jenny’s car and the SUV came to the stop sign at the corner of 14th and Smith at the same time. Jenny knew Henry drove a red SUV Escalade as she had spied on him before. Her heart began to race as she wondered if it was him stopped beside her.

  She gazed into the vehicle and her heart stopped. It was him! Subconsciously she prayed to her guardian angel that he would turn her way. Henry’s gaze however, remained fixed straight ahead.

  Suddenly, Henry leaned forward as if something caught his attention. There before him in front of the car was, Julean. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She was like a shadow, transparent somehow, but glowing.

  She stared at him, smiled and then walked towards the car stopped at the corner beside his. She walked around to the passenger side and passed through the closed door and sat beside the driver. Henry still didn’t notice that the driver was Jenny. Julean leaned towards Jenny’s face which was fixed on Henry’s gaze. The reflection of the overhead trees on Jenny’s car window partially obscured Jenny’s face.

  His focus was now on both girls.

  He edged forward ever so slightly to rid himself of the reflection so he could see with more clarity. He stared more intently, but a car that came up behind them moments ago began to honk his horn startling Henry and snapping at his concentration. For but a flashing second a warm feeling singed through him as his eyes locked on Jenny’s reddened and flushed face. At that moment Julean disappeared. He moved his head from side to side desperately trying to rid the annoying reflection and get a better and clearer view. A memory of long ago began to surface carrying with it the same spiritual unforgettable energy he felt that day when he had met Jenny…but neither the reflection nor the dust spotted window wouldn’t go away. He moved this way and that…

  The car behind now honked more vigourously. There was anger in the sound. And now the car behind Jenny honked as well. Julean was no longer there…he had to get a better look.

  “Geez stop the honking,” he muttered.

  If only she would turn down her window and get rid of that damn reflection!

  More honking…Henry crept forward, the reflection was moving away offering a clearer view, but just then another honk spurred Jenny forward giving Henry one final split second glance of the woman before she turned right onto Smith Street and sped off. …It couldn’t’ be Jenny…could it? Or, was it Camilla…?

  Jenny was shaking, she was so excited. My gosh, what was she doing? Here she wants to avoid Henry and there she was praying he would see her. Oh, it would have been so easy to turn down the window and call out to him, but she only did so in her mind. She smiled feeling like a teenager spying on a boy she had a crush on. But this was no crush; it had gone beyond that along time ago.

  Jenny shook her head; this was the closest she had been to Henry in thirty years. It was such a critical moment, one that could have brought them together, but the moment passed them both by, lost and forgotten in the past, only to be relived as a fantasy, at least in Jenny’s mind.

  Jenny drove slowly towards Joan’s place reliving the moment and giving her heart a chance to settle down. Jenny turned towards the passenger side…it had felt as if someone had been in the car with her at the same time she stared at Henry. Almost as if a close friend had been sitting beside her urging her to call out to… “Oh, it all happened so fast it’s probably my imagination getting the
best of me,” Jenny muttered.

  “Hi, Jen, come on in. I’m just loading the dryer with wash, please make yourself at home. There are some old magazines piled up next to the bookcase that I’m clearing out. You’re welcome to any if you don’t mind outdated issues.”

  “No, I don’t, Joan, I’ll have a look through them, you go ahead and finish what you’re doing.”

  Jenny entered the home of her new friend who she had met at the MacKenzie Art Gallery. They were both volunteers and instantly hit it off. The painting hanging above the chesterfield looked like one of the group of seven. It looked like an A.Y. Jackson. Jenny also recognized another one hanging in the living room. She thought it was a Casson but was not certain. She remembered seeing it on the poster rack in the gift shop. Jenny sat down on a rocking chair near the book case and began to scan through the stack of magazines on the footstool. She almost lost her breath when she saw a photo of Henry on the front cover of the Leader Post Sun magazine. It was last year’s magazine. The headline read, ‘Henry Pederson, a Man Always Looking for a New Challenge.’

  If his name hadn’t appeared on the headline, she might have missed it. The eyes and mouth were the same, how could she forget. She’d looked into them so many times during that short summer and kissed his soft lips. She could almost feel him there as she was lost in time. She’d just turned to the page where the article began when her friend returned.

  “Did you find something you might enjoy, Jen?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. May I borrow this magazine, there is an article in here I would like to read?”

  “For sure, actually that’s an old one; you can just keep it and throw it away when you’re done.”

  I would never throw this magazine away!

  “I see you like the work of the group of seven, Joan. Is that a Casson in the dining room? I wasn’t sure.”

  “Yes, it’s called Country Road. I love the bright fall colours. I have a print of another one of his in the kitchen called the Blue Heron. I think that one is my favourite. Why don’t we go there and sit down and I’ll make us some tea?”

  “Oh, I love this one, too, Joan.” Jenny said as she studied the small Casson.”

  “We have some in the hallway and the family room of the other artists as well. They are all prints but Steve and I enjoy them. We have a very small original oil of A.Y. Jackson in the bedroom and I’m afraid that is the extent of our collection. So how are you enjoying Regina?” Joan asked as the ladies sat at the kitchen table.

  “I love it, Joan. I have settled in and the yard is all fixed up and I’m making so many friends already.”

  “That’s good, I was …oh my, that’s a lovely pewter angel hanging from your necklace!”

  Joan reached across the table and took hold of it. “What a lovely inscription.”

  “Yes, it is isn’t it? It’s a gift from a very special friend a long time ago.”

  Joan looked into Jenny’s eyes before letting go and continuing, “As I was saying the girls and I were wondering if you would like to join our Bridge Club? We meet in different homes once a week. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “I think for now, I have my hands full. Last week I joined the Catholic Women’s League at the church I attend and also do some volunteer work which keeps me pretty busy. In fact, I might have to slow down a bit, I am feeling so exhausted lately…I guess with the yard and all.”

  “Well, if you change your mind we’d love to have you join the club.”

  “Thanks, Joan, I must say I love helping out at the MacKenzie Art Gallery. I am learning at little more about art all the time. I’m beginning to really like some of the pottery and am even able to recognize some of the artists who’ve created certain pieces.”

  If the truth be known, Jenny’s motive for volunteering at the MacKenzie was to familiarize herself more with the world of art. If she couldn’t be with Henry, then at least she could live vicariously in his world and be a part of his life and career. She wondered if she should inquire about the Pederson gallery and see if her friend knew more about Henry and his family, but thought better of it.

  The ladies chatted for over an hour. Jenny had to admit however, that she had impolitely tuned out Joan several times during their conversation. Jenny could hardly wait to get home and read the article in the Sunday Sun.

  After picking up some more milkweed plants at the nursery, Jenny went home and immediately set out to read the article about Henry.

  She read and reread the interview that he had with a Sun reporter. It said that Henry was married and had four children. The article confirmed her firm belief that Henry would be a successful entrepreneur and artist, some day. She studied his features in the photo on the front page. Jenny was elated to finally have a picture of him.

  His hair was thinning on top, almost bald, but his beard and mustache made him look distinguished and distracted from his receding hair line. He looked so handsome in his sports jacket and oh, so professional. At one point Jenny decided she would cut out the photo and frame it, but quickly thought better of it. She was already allowing herself to live in the unreality of a relationship that never was and could never be.

  Try as she might, she could not stop reading the magazine or Henry’s letter that her mother had given to her. It only made her think all the more about her first love. How would Henry react to this or that? What were his favourite foods? And when she took a walk in the neighbourhood she would walk on the inside as Henry had always walked on the outside to protect her.

  Memory after memory crossed the screen of her mind of that memorable summer. And, when she caught herself in her reveries and realized that such wishful thinking was all for naught she was so disappointed that she actually became sick. Perhaps moving to Regina was not such a good idea.

  Finally, she placed Henry’s letter in her mother’s hope chest in the bedroom closet. She also saw another large brown envelope there that was still sealed. She had written on the outside what precious contents were inside:

  Love notes from my first love.

  Jenny recalled sealing all the notes that Henry had written to her and hid behind the fence gate post. She knew she should have torn them all up years ago, but could never bring herself to do it.

  She was going to open the envelope and read the notes, but she had already spent too much time thinking on the past.

  She returned to the living room and stored the worn and tattered magazine into the drawer of the round table next to her chair. It was the same drawer that housed the secret compartment where she hid and kept her diary. It was a dangerous link to the past to which she could so easily succumb to live in. She knew she should discard the magazine and move forward, but all she could bring herself to do was to turn the magazine over, so the photo of Henry would be face down in the drawer. It was the only compromise she was willing to make.

  Many days Jenny’s heart ached so strongly for the love of her youth she would call the gallery just to hear his voice, “Pederson Gallery, how may I help you?” then she’d say she had the wrong number.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The phone rang at least eight times and Henry was about to hang up when Mary answered.

  “Hello,” Mary said, catching her breath.

  “Hi, Mom, were you outside?”

  “Yes, just bringing in some fresh vegetables from the garden.”

  “So, are we still on for Wednesday lunch? I can hardly wait to taste the Borscht soup. You said it would be the best I have ever tasted. Last year’s was pretty good, Mom. It will be hard to beat!”

  “Yes, Henry, I’ll do my best. Hopefully it will help you to always think kindly of me. And I will bake some fresh bread for you, too!”

  “Wow, Mom, you’re really going all out. And believe me, Mom, soup or no soup, I will always think of you as the best Mom in the world!”

  “Well, let’s see.
”

  “And, Mom, for the life of me, I can’t think what it is you want to tell me and show me. Can you give me a clue, Mom?”

  Mary looked down at the pink envelope in her apron pocket and patted it. She carried it with her every day since deciding to give it to Henry. The lilac scent soothed her.

  “You will know all about it soon enough, son. If you can spare the time try to book off two hours.”

  “Will it take that long!?”

  “Perhaps even longer.”

  “Now you really have me curious. Okay, Mom, I love you and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. We are starting to hang a new exhibition and should have most of it done by tomorrow. So with that out of the way I should have lots of time for us to spend together.”

  “That will be just fine, Henry. Take care and I love you, too.”

  Henry hung up the phone and went to the fitting room. Shelly was just taking some pottery out of a box.

  The decision to hire Shelly after Allison left for College was a good one. She not only was a good sales associate, but she also brought a little flair to the gallery.

  Still in her early twenties, she was quiet and reserved. She had long brown hair and wore it in many different styles, but usually up in a bun. She walked very erect and together with her soft demeanour possessed an air of elegance. Her clothes were another thing. Everyday she wore something different and on the edge, definitely artsy. She was a very steady worker, but relished her private time.

  When five-thirty came, she’d get on her bicycle and pedal off down the street. Her erect posture on the bike and air of sophistication reminded Henry of Mary Poppins.

  “Well, Shelly, we’d better finish setting up the rest of the exhibition. Doug has all of Lydia’s paintings framed and ready.”

  “I’ve started to put the pottery on display, Anne brought it in this morning. Is her work ever beautiful,” commented Shelly, as she opened another box of Anne’s pottery. “Each piece is so unique. I’m in love with one of her teapots that has an extra long spout and handle. It is so different.”