Making Angels Laugh

by Woods, Karen

  Her phone rang before she could finish reading the email. It was her son, Boris.

  “Mama?” her son Boris said in Russian. “Lyosha texted me saying you had cut your trip short and were returning to the States and he told me why. Do you want me to fly out to be with you and ‘Uncle’ Patrick?”

  “No, Borya. I am fine. And Patrick will understand about you needing to stay home with the babies. But, I don’t think I’ll be able to come to help your family. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not a problem, Mama. We understand. You have your clinic to run and people to take care of there. Sonya is doing well as are the babies. Will you be able to come for the baptism?”

  “God willing, I will be there. Do you have a date set?” she asked as she reached for her pen and notebook.

  When he told her the date, she wrote it in down. “Your grandmother and I will take a hotel room and rent a car.”

  “You will stay with us. I will hear of nothing else. You and Babushka can stay in the granny flat in our backyard. We have already set it aside for the pair of you,” Boris replied, his voice firm. “But your renting a car would be a good idea. The new eleven passenger van leaves very little space for anyone but Sonya and me, the two four passenger folding strollers, and the diaper bag, after we get all seven car seats in it.”

  “I can well imagine the space crunch.”

  “Mama, are you well?” Boris asked again.

  “I will be well. I am grieving for my friend. But, oddly, I am at peace. I haven’t told your brothers yet, as I received word from Vladika only a few moments ago. He has given me his blessing to become a nun. We will be taking the campus of the clinic and making it a monastery. The monastery will operate the clinic.”

  “We?” Boris asked.

  “There will be three of us to start; me, your grandmother, and Em Greer.”

  “When will this happen?”

  “Sometime after the twins are baptized, I should think. I doubt that all the required legal work can be done before that. And we have to resolve Janet’s share of the practice before this can move forward.”

  “Once Papa became a priest, your entering a monastery if widowed was always an option,” Boris said, his tone thoughtful.

  She heard Sonya exclaim, “Your mother is becoming a nun? Are you joking?!”

  “I will talk to you later about this, Sonya,” Boris dismissed lovingly in English. Then he continued in English, “Mama, you will let me know if there is anything I can do for you?”

  “I am well, Borya. Please do not worry about me. Hug Sonya and kiss the children for me. Again, I am sorry. I feel as though I am letting you down.”

  “I shall give them your love. And you are not letting us down, in the least. Give Patrick my love and tell him that I am praying for him.”

  “Will do. Love you, Son.”

  “Mama, travel safely. I will say ‘goodbye’ now.”

  “We will talk soon.”

  After disconnecting with her son, she forwarded the bishop’s email to her mother and to Em. Then she wrote an email to her bishop, in reply, thanking him for his approval, telling him of the changes in her travel plans and why they had changed, asking for Janet to be added to his memorial prayers, and telling him that they would be working on the necessary legalities and decisions about setting the rule for the monastery. Then she wrote an email to her sons and their wives, telling them about the changes coming in her life.

  Clint met her at the airport just outside of Watertown, late that evening. It had been a long and expensive day of travel; from Costa Rica to Miami, Miami to LaGuardia, from LaGuardia by cab to Teterboro, Teterboro by air charter to Watertown. She was exhausted, and she wasn’t home yet.

  “How is Patrick holding up?” Rita asked Clint as he drove them away from the airport.

  “Well enough, I suppose, for a man who has just lost the love of his life. He hasn’t been in to work. The other physical and occupational therapists have been covering for him. I saw him when he drove back to campus from his making funeral arrangements at the mortuary. Talked to him for a few minutes then. I saw him walk around the campus last evening about sundown. And I saw him at the chapel this morning. That was odd for him. We never see him, or Doctor Janet, at services.”

  “No, Patrick is Presbyterian. As was Janet,” she said on a yawn.

  “That would explain the memorial service at the mortuary instead of a Church funeral,” Clint said. “Father Samuel added her to memorial prayers.”

  “Good.”

  “You look very tired. Take a nap, Doc.”

  “Think I will.”

  She slept until the engine of the car was shut off. Then she was suddenly awake.

  “I have your bags, Doc,” Clint said. “I will take them to your cottage.”

  “Thanks, Clint.”

  She walked across the commons to Janet and Patrick’s cottage. She knocked on the front door.

  “Go away!” Patrick called.

  “Come on, Patrick! I flew all the way from Costa Rica today, changing planes twice. The least you can do is come out and talk to me.”

  The door flew open a minute later. “You’re supposed to be on that cruise. I told people not to spoil your vacation.”

  “Well, I’m home now. Are you going to talk to me or not?” she teased him.

  Patrick sighed. He looked at his watch. “Sure. Why don’t we go over to the dining room and get some coffee?”

  As they walked, she said, “You look tired. Have you been able to sleep?”

  “Catnaps. On the couch. I can’t stand the idea of sleeping in our bed. Then I wake up thinking I’ve heard her walking around the cottage. And of course, she isn’t there. I can’t stay here, Rita. I just can’t bear it.”

  “Of course you can’t! Would you like to move to an apartment on campus? We can arrange that easily,” she said as they reached the communal dining hall.

  “I was thinking further away would be necessary. I called an old college friend in Maryland to tell him about Jan. He offered me a partnership in his practice,” Patrick said as they went inside.

  “When were you thinking of leaving?”

  “How soon can you let me go?”

  “Whenever you want. I remember well the feeling of needing to be away, of finding everything too painful, after Dryusha died.”

  Walking into the dining room, they were greeted by the head of dietary, James Andrews, who called to them from the kitchen. “Rita. Patrick. What can I do for you?”

  “What are you still doing here at this hour, James?” Rita asked.

  “Working. Making the food for the funeral reception,” James said.

  Patrick shook his head. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Sure it is,” James said, clearly fighting back tears. “It’s the last thing I can do for her.”

  Patrick sighed, then spoke gently. “Okay. She would have liked whatever you do. I will leave it in your capable hands.”

  “Right now, we could use hot coffee, antipasto, and whatever you have handy in terms of a fruity dessert, James, please. It has been a long time since I ate breakfast on the ship this morning.”

  James sighed and nodded. “You never take care of yourself. Sure thing on the food. Be out in a few.”

  Rita took a seat at a table. Patrick sat across from her.

  “Any word back from the medical examiner on cause of death?” Rita asked.

  “Yeah. It was a burst aortic aneurysm.”

  “Sometimes, there is no warning with aneurysms. She had none of the classical warning signs. She wasn’t hypertensive. Her cholesterol wasn’t elevated. She never complained of pain in her back or shoulders.”

  “Nope, no warning at all,” he said his voice heavy. “She died in her sleep. The last thing I told her was that I loved her. She died in my arms. All in all, there are worse ways to die.”

  Rita tried, and failed, to blink back tears. “There are indeed. I’m so sorry, Patrick.”

  He patted her han
d. “I know you loved her.”

  “What are the funeral plans?” Rita asked after she brought herself back under control.

  “She’s been cremated, as we planned. Her cremains are in an urn. I’ll have them placed in a columbarium space we have already bought. When I’m gone, my ashes will go into the same space with her urn… There will be a memorial service at the funeral home day after tomorrow. And a reception here after that, since James has already been working on that. Then I’ll leave the clinic following the reception, if you agree.”

  “I will never hold you here, as it is painful for you. You have to do what you have to do. I don’t want to make things more difficult for you.”

  “I reread the partnership agreement,” he said as he took his phone from his pocket. “I went through Jan’s papers. She had a complete inventory of what she had contributed to the practice, all the equipment and furnishings for insurance purposes. Here is a copy of this years’ insurance valuation. If you want to have it revalued, that is up to you. But I would be happy enough with a check for the total.”

  James brought out a platter of assorted antipasto, a baked apple which was Patrick’s favorite desert, some fresh blueberries for her, and a thermal carafe of coffee, along with two table settings.

  “Thank you, James,” she said as she took the phone from Patrick and began reading the document.

  Patrick helped himself to a slice of prosciutto wrapped honeydew melon, a couple of deviled egg halves, a generous spoonful of garlic hummus spread on a slice of crusty sourdough bread, some olives, some raw vegetables, and some shelled pistachios.

  Rita handed Patrick back his phone. She poured herself a cup of coffee and added cream, then stirred it.

  She also took food onto her plate, telling herself to eat slowly. There hadn’t been time between flights to search out a decent meal in the airports and the snacks offered on the flights had been uninspiring, to say the least. There was only so far that the couple of hundred calories in a dried fruit and nut bar carried a person. “This seems fair. I will write you a check on the clinic’s operating account. I don’t have sufficient funds in my personal checking account at the moment, but I will sell some stock and reimburse the clinic account.”

  “Why? It’s a solo practice now. It’s all yours. You are the sole owner of the practice.”

  “I still have to make payroll from the clinic account,” Rita dismissed as she cut into her own melon slice.

  “There’s enough money in the clinic’s checking account to pay me, and make payroll a hundred times over and more than enough for a couple of thousand payrolls in the clinic’s ‘Capital repairs and improvements’ account,” Patrick dismissed. “I saw a copy of the last bank statements in Jan’s papers. Where did that money come from?”

  “My initial capitalization of the clinic and the investments made with that money, and I have added some to it over the years from my profits... Now, speaking of payroll, you will have your salary and Janet’s share of profits through the end of this quarter. You will need some money to re-establish yourself in Maryland.”

  “We… I… have… savings and investments. All I need is for us to be paid through the day she died. I haven’t worked since that day,” Patrick said after he swallowed a bite of the hummus on sourdough bread. “I will miss his cooking.”

  “Tell James that. The compliment will mean a lot to him.”

  He sighed. “I have arranged to sell Jan’s car and our sailboat and to sublet our marina slip to the guy buying the boat. Those deals will close tomorrow. As soon as I have certified copies of the death certificate, which should be tomorrow midmorning, according to the funeral director, I will file a claim on her life insurance and finish the filing for the refund of her airfare. My friend whose physical therapy practice I’m joining owns some rental real estate. Part of my compensation is the use of a small, furnished, house near the practice. I’ll be in Annapolis. So I’ll be able to get a new, sea worthy, boat and do some coastal sailing, if I ever get to the place I want to go sailing by myself.”

  “Sounds like you are doing as well as can be expected.”

  “Yeah. I’m trying. It’s hard. But keeping busy helps, I suppose. All I want to do is sit and cry, or crawl into a bottle and never come out.”

  “It is never easy to lose someone you love. Janet and you were together since her residency, married since the first year of her fellowship. Be patient with yourself. Grief is hard.”

  “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever endured,” Patrick confessed, his voice breaking with pain. “She was the best part of me. Neither of us have any family still alive. There will be no one to remember us.”

  “I will remember Janet and you. The patients you served will remember you. My children will remember you. You and Janet were Aunt and Uncle to them… With time, Patrick, the loss stops hurting as intensely.”

  He finished his coffee and poured himself another cup, adding sugar and cream. “I hope that the pain eases. I don’t know how I would live with this long term. I am sorry you cut your much needed vacation short. God only knows when you will get another chance to get away from here.”

  “It is what is necessary. Patients need care.”

  “Jan always said you should have been a nun. You certainly take everything in stride without letting it upset your inner peace.”

  She sighed. “Fooled you.”

  “Then again, I suppose you fool a lot of people. You never did fool Jan. She saw right through the unflappable, capable, exterior to see her best friend, a woman she loved like the sister she never had.”

  “I loved Janet. She was my dearest friend, and the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had. You will always be my brother, at least as long as you want to be.”

  He nodded. “I can’t imagine not wanting to be your brother. I’ll get back to packing up, now. A charity will be coming for Jan’s clothes tomorrow, morning, early. And the moving and storage company will be coming for my things later tomorrow afternoon. The furniture will stay with the cottage. But I’m taking our personal belongings. Would you like something as a remembrance of her?”

  “I have my memories. I need nothing else.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you need help packing?”

  “You need to check on the patients.”

  “I can send a couple of the agricultural staff or Clint to help you pack things,” she offered.

  “No, thank you. I need to finish going through her things, myself.”

  “Finish your meal. I suspect you haven’t eaten since the evening before she died.”

  “I grabbed a fast food burger yesterday after I met with the funeral director. Took one bite and threw it out because it was horrible. It tasted like wet cardboard. Honestly, I haven’t been hungry.”

  “I remember that feeling. I lost fifteen pounds that first month after Dryusha was murdered.”

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  “There is nothing anyone can say or do to make this better. But I’m here for you.”

  “I know. And I love you for that.”

  “By the way, Janet was right about me. I’ll become a nun in a few weeks. My bishop has approved.”

  “And the clinic?”

  “Will continue to run as a major work of the monastery.”

  “You emailed Jan about both Emilia Greer and your mother coming on staff?”

  “Both of them will be joining me in the monastery.”

  He shook his head on a sigh. “I don’t understand this, but I wish you joy, Margarita Aleksandrova.”

  “I wish you a life filled with joy.”

  “I am going to take the long vacation that Jan and I planned, sailing around Australia and New Zealand, this winter. It’s already paid for. And I’m going. I’ve already begun the refund process on her airfare, the airline just needs the death certificate.” His voice broke on those last words.

  “Good for you! You always have enjoyed sailing. You will have a crew to do the heavy work ther
e, so you will be able to relax and enjoy the trip.”

  “Jan was delighted with the news of Boris’ twins arriving. She sent them a baby gift from us. How are you going to manage going out there now for several weeks to help?”

  “I won’t. They understand. I’m sure Sonya’s mother is happy to give them more time. Borya said to give you his love and to tell you that they are praying for you and for Janet.”

  Patrick smiled slightly. That was the first smile she had seen from him since this conversation began, and it was a good sign. “I will phone him.”

  “I’m sure he would be happy to hear from you. He wanted to know if he should fly out to be here for you.”

  “Not with the babies so young. Sonya needs him more than I do. I hope you told him that.”

  “I did.”

  “Good,” Patrick said. He looked down at the table. “I can’t believe we ate all of that.”

  “Not quite. You haven’t eaten that baked apple James brought out for you.”

  “My favorite dessert of his. I don’t know what he does to the apples, but they are beyond yummy.”

  Rita smiled, “I doubt it is a coincidence that he had this in the kitchen.”

  “No. I’m sure he made my favorite foods to comfort me. And I’ve not eaten them. That was an unintentional insult. I will miss his spoiling us.”