When Angels Cry

by Jennifer Edwards

  They had several meetings—the park, the diner, and then finally his hotel room.

  When he slipped his hand into hers, she felt a spark that charged all of her senses. He leaned into her, and their lips touched. His were soft, not rough. They rendered her breathless. As their tongues met, it was a new language for them both.

  He had longed to be inside her for days. He would wake in the night with lustful thoughts of her. The stiffness he felt beneath the covers each night was nearly unbearable. And now, here she was, beside him. He wanted to savor each moment . . . each sensation. He wanted to hear how she breathed, to see how her face looked in ecstasy. Slowly, he lifted her blouse and exposed her breasts. He moved his lips and tongue across her nipples, and she gasped. He pressed himself against her thigh making her aware of his manhood beneath his pants. She stroked him evoking a deep moan. His hand slipped between her legs. Hiking up her skirt, he could feel the moistness of her passion. He peeled her panties off and began to tenderly caress her mound. Like the musician he was, he played her as if she was an instrument. His fingers moved over her as if he was playing his violin.

  She had never been touched this way before. It drove her crazy. Unable to control herself, she felt a wave of sensations building with each breath. A crescendo of passion welled inside her. Something began to happen. Her body was doing things she had never experienced. With each touch, each chord he seemed to be playing, her body responded powerfully, her breath stopped and suddenly she burst into an internal flame of ecstasy. She floated on wave after wave with this ocean of sensations.

  Once she could breathe again, he mounted her and slipped himself inside her. They moved in unison. Both home now. Melting into one. She watched him watching her. Their eyes locked. Each a silent mirror.

  Their love making was like a drug. They wanted and needed more. Alas, it could never be.

  I awoke to the sound of rain and mouthwatering aromas from the kitchen. Phoebe had been up since dawn working on the Thanksgiving feast. My brother and Brad showed up together around noon, like BFF’s. They were three hours early, which was fine for Henry, but I could have done without my ex-husband milling around. To make matters worse, they talked about how they had hung out at the motel bar all night! It bugged me that Brad was insinuating himself back into my family. I couldn’t react. I had to keep myself in check, if only for a few hours. At least Mother was happy to see Henry. That took a little of the sting away.

  At two, Sybil’s pink panther pulled into the driveway. Someone was in the passenger’s seat, and I wondered whom she was bringing without telling me. I squinted to try to see better when Sybil turned and kissed her passenger. When they got out of the car and began to sprint toward the front door, I saw that Sybil had just locked lips with Marie. What the? I was shaken. I quickly weighed my options. Should I accost the two of them as soon as they came in from the torrential rain and ask “What’s going on with the two of you?” Or, should I take a deep breath and restrain myself until a more appropriate moment later in the day? Or, maybe I could get Marie alone in the bathroom and pull each hair out of her head slowly. No question, I had to wait.

  Robert and Terry arrived in separate cars at the same time. Robert had his familiar trusty umbrella, but Terry got drenched. He resembled a drowned rat by the time he made it into the house. I didn’t understand why a man, who would take the time putting on beautifully tailored three piece suit and Hermes tie wouldn’t bring an umbrella.

  Manuel offered to get Terry a change of clothes and to hang his wet ones up to dry.

  Appetizers were on hand for about an hour as people mingled. Phoebe had made Mozzarella and tomato skewers with a balsamic glaze. And crudités, with three different dipping sauces. As a gift, Robert contributed Beluga Caviar and blinis to the feast. Heaven.

  Mother was confused by the appetizer thing. She kept asking where the turkey was. Manuel did his best to placate her, but after a while he looked at me and shook his head as if to say, “I don’t know what to do!”

  Watching all these different people under our roof had me feeling slightly out of body. Everyone seemed more than comfortable. I was the only one climbing out of my skin!

  Lily sat on Raj’s lap near the fire. Brad and Henry were locked in football conversation. I could tell Marie was cautious about Sybil’s attention in front of her father, who looked shell-shocked, to say the least. Terry wound up in the kitchen helping Phoebe. Judging from bursts of laughter from them, I would say they were having a good time.

  Once we finally got to the dining room, a demi-cup of roasted chestnut soup was at each place setting as an amuse bouche. There were two perfectly browned turkeys, each on its own platter surrounded by roasted potatoes and root vegetables. A gorgeous winter salad sat beside each plate and a steaming gravy boat took center stage near the turkeys. Lily had hand painted little place cards, and people walked around the table looking for their names. I saw Sybil change her card with Terry’s so she could be next to Marie. Mother picked her card up and tried to stick it on her sweater.

  “Mom, it’s not a name tag,” Henry said.

  “It has my name on it?”

  “Yes, Mom, it does, but it is just to let you know where you are to sit.”

  “Why do I have to know where to sit? I know where to sit!” And she seated herself in the chair that had been marked as Robert’s. No one minded the musical chair routine. As long as this day made Mother happy, I knew we all would be happy.

  When Phoebe emerged from the kitchen everyone applauded her for making this all happen. Manuel poured red wine into everyone’s glasses, and we all toasted the chef and all the people who couldn’t be with us.

  Robert insisted on carving the turkeys, which he did with utter precision.

  Half way through the meal Brad asked, “Who’s that in the driveway?”

  Everyone turned to look out the window. A man stood in the rain looking at us.

  “Oh my God!” I couldn’t suppress my response.

  “Isn’t that your waiter?” Marie asked with a mischievous grin on her face. I shot her a look that could kill.

  “Your waiter? What does that mean??” Brad asked.

  I excused myself to see what Dwight thought he was doing. I heard the buzz in the room get louder behind me.

  Phoebe said, “He’s cute.”

  “Watch it Phoebes! He’s your mom’s,” Marie joked.

  “What does that mean?” Brad asked, concerned.

  “Oh, I recognize him now . . .” Terry began explaining that he was the waiter at the table the night he and I had had dinner at Stone Manor.

  “You and my Mom went out for dinner?” Phoebe asked.

  I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I couldn’t believe that Dwight would have the nerve to show up during my holiday meal, especially after I had told him to take a hike a few days before.

  I opened the front door, and Dwight and I were face-to-face.

  “What are you doing here Dwight?”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, I just needed to see you,” he said, drops falling from the hat he was wearing. We both stood looking at one another under the front door eve. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red. He’d clearly been crying. For some reason, I felt sorry for him. I was still angry at him for not telling me he was engaged, and I was annoyed that he would show up in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. I still felt sorry for him.

  It was very cold, the rain was getting harder, and I have always been a sucker for a lost puppy. And that is what Dwight reminded me of. I invited him in and pointed him upstairs to my room. I said I would get him a change of clothes. Two drenched guys in one day? What are the odds?

  Brad was at my side in no time. The two of us watched Dwight’s cute butt saunter upstairs. “Who is that?” Brad asked through clenched teeth.

  “A friend of mine,” I said looking Brad straight in the eye. He obviously knew what kind of friend I was referring to. Game over.

  “God . . . what is he, fifteen?”
He snorted.

  “Don’t you dare, Brad . . . I’ll kick you out of this house faster than an atomic blast. Now sit your sorry ass back down at the table and enjoy your daughter’s wonderful food and shut up!” I couldn’t believe those words came out of my mouth! But, man, it felt good!

  I grabbed one of Henry’s sweat outfits from the hall closet and went upstairs. When I opened the door to my room, I was greeted by the sound of the shower. “Dwight?” I called into the bathroom. “Um- what are you doing?”

  “Oh, hi, Sarah . . . hope you don’t mind . . . I was freezing!” He reached outside the shower and grabbed my arm. “Come here, you.” He pulled me off my feet.

  I kinda, sorta, tried to fight him off, but I knew he’d get me in there one way or another. I pulled my slip dress over my head and climbed into the shower with him. We stood under the warm water staring at one another.

  “I think I love you, Sarah . . .”

  “No you don’t, Dwight,” I insisted.

  “No . . . really . . . I think I do!! You’re all I think about. I can’t sleep, I don’t eat . . .”

  I pulled him close to me and held him tightly. I could smell his familiar scent. A sort of musty, nutty blend. Add a little rain to that, and I couldn’t resist. Here’s to pheromones. In those few seconds, I wasn’t angry anymore. I just felt badly for him. My heart was bursting. It had been a long time since I heard a man tell me he loved me. It felt pretty darn good, even if he was delusional. I wondered if I was in some kind of mid-life crisis, but I threw total caution to the wind anyway. Why was I allowing this young man to get under my skin? Okay, he was a gorgeous specimen of a man. He certainly pleased me in bed. I hadn’t had this kind of sexual passion in years. Which undoubtedly explains the attraction.

  He told me not only did he tell his fiancé, Violet, that he was in love with someone else, but he also told his mother . . . who instantly uninvited him to Thanksgiving dinner. Violet seemed relieved, he said. She had begun to question whether it was a good idea to get married so young. His mother had other ideas. Violet was from a wealthy family and she had hoped Dwight would not have to work as a waiter much longer.

  “Look Dwight . . . I have a house full of guests downstairs, who are probably wondering where I am about now. Get out of the shower, get dressed, and join us down stairs. We can talk about everything else later.” I kissed him on the nose and got out.

  Everyone knew that something had gone on upstairs. After all, I was wearing a completely different outfit, my hair was wet and my make-up had been washed away.

  “Guess you’re not in Kansas anymore, eh?” Sybil laughed at me.

  Phoebe gave me a thumbs up. Marie shook her head lovingly and smiled. Brad looked as though he might kill someone. Mother didn’t notice that I had been gone at all.

  Most of the wine had been consumed and both turkeys had been picked clean by the time Dwight got to the table. When he walked into the dining room, everyone fell silent. He looked adorable, wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt and rosy from the shower and from crying.

  “Everyone, this is my friend Dwight,” I said. Like an A. A. meeting, everyone answered in unison, “Hi Dwight!”

  I wanted to shoot myself. Instead, I put a plate of food together for him.

  Phoebe asked for help with the desserts, and Manuel jumped up to help her. They set two pecan pies, two pumpkin pies, Raj’s brownies and a variety of cookies on the table. Everyone seemed to be watching as Dwight began to eat.

  Noticing this, he laughed and said, “I know it’s unusual for me to be this side of a table. Usually I’m standing and not eating.”

  Sybil roared.

  “You should enjoy yourself!” Marie chirped.

  There was much discussion as to which dessert to have and how much. Terry had brought a nice dessert wine, which we opened. Robert put a pot of coffee on, and Mother brought the cream and sugar to the table. The food had been pretty much demolished. I was not looking forward to what the kitchen might look like. Dwight offered to help clean up when the time was right.

  As the day wore on and people were sufficiently stuffed, everyone seemed to be getting a little frisky. Sybil and Marie were definitely up to something, probably groping each other under the table. Terry and Phoebe seemed to be getting a little cozy, too! Maybe the wine was going to everyone’s head.

  “So, Dwight?” Brad couldn’t contain himself any longer. “How do you know my wife?”

  “Ex-wife, Brad . . . in case you forgot.”

  To his everlasting credit, Dwight stood his ground. “Sarah and I met at Stone Manor a few weeks ago, where I work. I think she is one of the most beautiful, honest, gracious women I have ever met!”

  Talk about the proverbial pin drop. There was a stunned silence for at least a minute.

  I surprised myself by what I did. I got up from my chair, walked over to him, and kissed him meaningfully on the lips. “Thank you,” I whispered to him.

  “Right on!” Sybil applauded.

  “Sweet!” Lily added.

  “Where’s grandma?” Phoebe asked. We all realized that no one had seen Mother in at least twenty minutes. Manuel, who had been in the kitchen with Terry, said he would look upstairs. Phoebe would check the bathroom.

  Raj stood up with a brownie in his hand. “I don’t know how to say this . . . but it appears that I brought the wrong brownies!”

  “How can a brownie be wrong???” Marie asked, giggling. “I had two. They were amazing!”

  “No, Raj . . . how could that be?” Lily asked with a concerned look on her face.

  “Will someone please explain what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Mom, please don’t get angry, but I think what Raj is saying is that these particular brownies have medical marijuana in them!”

  “Holy shit!” Henry put his head in his hands. “Mom’s had around three of them!”

  Sybil did a spit take. Marie giggled some more. It hit me that my mother was probably stoned out of her mind somewhere.

  Manuel ran back downstairs shaking his head. “She’s not upstairs!”

  Without another word spoken, everyone systematically fanned out searching for her. We looked all over the house calling her name to no avail. The rain had intensified. No one wanted to think that mother had left the house, but it was becoming evident that she had.

  “Where would she go?” Henry asked.

  “I can’t imagine.” I answered. “She not only has Alzheimer’s, but she’s just ingested a substantial sized portion of pot! She could be anywhere!”

  We decided to drive around the neighborhood looking for her. I asked the girls to stay behind in case she showed up. Raj and Terry offered to stay with them. Robert said he would drive and Brad and Henry offered to go with him. Dwight, Marie and Sybil came with me. Manuel wasn’t sure what to do, but thought it would be good for someone to be on foot. He grabbed an umbrella and began walking in the storm toward the street. Armed with our cell phones, each of us clamored into the different cars calling out to one another to call if they spotted her. I made a left out of the driveway, Robert went to the right. The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the pounding rain. Beads of panic sweat formed on my brow. Dwight, who was in the front seat next to me, wiped my forehead dry.

  “Maybe one of us should drive, Sarah,” Sybil said, aware of the state I was in.

  “Thanks, but I’m okay,” I replied. The last thing I wanted was Sybil behind the wheel careening through the rain. “I’m getting used to searching for my mother.”

  We went over the events leading up to Mother’s disappearance to see if something had triggered her to take off.

  “When you guys were upstairs, your mother started to call Lily . . . Rachel. No one corrected her,” Marie said.

  “Mom said she has been seeing Rachel lately. She goes down to the cul de sac and sits on the bench. But I looked at the bench as we left the driveway. She wasn’t there.”

  “I know I am the outsider and all,” Dwight
spoke up, “but where is this Rachel she’s taking about? Maybe she went to wherever Rachel is?”

  Brilliant, Dwight! “I think you are right.” I made a complete 180 turn with a screech and headed in the other direction. “Marie, call your dad. Tell him I’m heading for the cemetery.”

  The security guard at the mouth of Billings and O’Ryan cemetery was fast asleep in his cubicle. He claimed not to have seen anyone dip under the security arm. He certainly would’ve noticed an elderly lady on foot, in this rain. I explained what was going on and that we had family members buried on the hill. He lifted the arm of the security gate and let us in.

  “How could your mother make it this far?” Dwight asked.

  It was only two blocks from the house, but the trek up the hill toward the grave site was a little torturous. “I have no clue Dwight,” I said. “It’s not as though anything mother does now is within the norm.”

  Shivers ran down my back as the thought came to me that this day was like the day of Rachel’s funeral. The rain, my run up this hill trying to get to the top . . .

  As our cars rounded the road, I could spot the graves. A dark shadow was lying on the ground ahead.

  “Oh God,” I said. I knew everyone was thinking the same thing as I. I pulled my car over and jumped out. Everyone followed. As I ran to the family plot, it became apparent that the shadow was my mother. She lay between the graves of her husband and her baby. Soaking wet, she appeared lifeless.

  “Mom!” I yelled as I ran to her. Henry was on my heels. We both reached her at the same time. Henry checked for a pulse as we dropped to our knees. She was alive at least.

  Robert had already dialed 911 on his cell. Henry scooped our mother up into his arms and headed back to the shelter of the car. He laid her down in the back seat of mine.

  “Paramedics are on the way,” he announced. Mom opened her eyes and looked up at the faces bent over her. “Oh, hi, guys!” She laughed. “It’s cold isn’t it?” Her teeth chattering.

  The sirens blared, coming up the hill. I had my usual, Pavlovian response at the sound of a siren. I always feel as though my chest will explode as I fight back tears. This reaction stemmed from the first of Mother’s suicide attempts when the emergency vehicles screamed into our driveway. If I’m stressed, I go right back to that place whenever I hear a siren.