Henry had shared some of the teachings Mr. Engelmann discussed with him, and he and Julean implemented those suggestions as well. What further helped them to curb their desires and limit their time together in teasing, tempting and inflaming their passions was Julean’s landlady’s strict rule that she had to be in by ten on weekends with no outings during the week. They both began to suspect after awhile, however, that perhaps Julean’s dad had had something to do with Mrs. Saunder’s strict curfew and house rules.
But more and more lately, their desire for one another, to be together all the time, was increasing and they both saw no way forward but marriage.
“I don’t know what my parents will think. Girls on the colony did marry early, many when they were fourteen or fifteen. But both Mom and Dad disagreed with that and strongly felt that was way too early.”
“Well, you’re twenty, Julean, and I’m twenty-one. We’re not teenagers anymore. I think those are reasonable ages for us to tie the knot. And what about your older sister, Joyce, aren’t she and that intern from the University Hospital considering getting married?”
“Yes, Dad seems to be agreeing to that. So maybe that will give us some support. But he’s always stressed that he wants us girls to be finished university before we get married.”
“Well honestly, honey, I know I can’t wait another two years. I love you so much I just want to be with you all the time. “
“And I feel the same, Hank. I have a lot of money saved up.”
“And so do I. I still have all of the money Mr. Engelmann gave me and last summer I managed to add another $450 to my savings account. I’m sure we can make it until we graduate and get jobs—then we’ll be rolling in the dough.”
“Well, besides the financial considerations, there’s the faith issue too. I know my parents don’t like it that I’m going to church with you all the time. I did tell them that I’m drawn to the Catholic faith and that if I marry you I’d want to submit to your leadership of the family. We are very strict about that in our family and church: the man is the head of the household. But I have to admit, Hank, I’m growing to love your church more and more all the time and can’t wait to have Holy Communion. The thought of receiving the body and blood of Jesus in the form of the Host just ignites my heart with such passion. I can’t think of having a greater intimacy with Christ.”
“I’m sure glad you feel that way, Julean, because my faith is very important to me too.”
“It’s so important for a husband and wife to be of one faith in a marriage.”
A comfortable silence fell between them.
“I’m getting so excited just thinking and talking about this Hank,” Julean said, “let’s break the news to our parents this weekend that we’re planning to get married!”
Henry took his right hand off the steering wheel and drew Julean in, pressing her close to him. He loved her so much.
But fear of facing Julean’s dad put a damper on the joy and excitement he should be feeling as well.
A week later as Henry and Julean drove back to Saskatoon, they reviewed the many discussions they’d had with both sets of parents. Neither of their parents really liked the idea of them getting married, but for different reasons. While both maintained that it would be better for them to finish university first, Henry had begun to feel that on Julean’s side it had more to do with his family’s religious faith and social status.
While both Henry’s parents and Julean’s came from a farming background, it seemed to Henry that Julean’s father, in particular, strived very hard to make it in the medical community and establish the status associated with his chosen career. Dr. Carter, Henry felt, wanted a greater social standing for his family. And then there was the religious thing. Both Mr. and Mrs. Carter were opposed to Julean’s growing interest in the Catholic faith.
“I really think it’s got to do more with our religious differences rather than my dad being a doctor and all, Hank,” Julean said, the frustration they both felt clear in her voice.
“But the reason I think that it does is because they’ve given your sister their blessing to marry Brandon, and he’s interning to be a doctor.”
“But don’t forget, Brandon’s also decided to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.”
“Well, that’s just the feeling I get, Julean”
“Well, in any case it’s settled. We’re going to get married with or without their blessing. I told Mom and Dad that I really want them to be happy about our decision and that I was so sorry for not obeying them,” and turning to Henry, she said with tears in her eyes, “I just love you so much, Hank, and want to be with you forever.”
Henry’s heart burst with the same feelings for her. He reached out for her hand and the engine of his 1946 Chevy roared a little louder as they sped down the highway.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The monitor above Ted Sarsky’s bed blipped rhythmically along with the weakening beat of his heart. A second heart attack in detox had landed him in icu with the prognosis that he would likely not live through the night.
Jenny and Edith sat at his bedside, staring at his face, then at the monitor, then back to his face, wondering how much longer they had together before his life ended.
Two months after Elaine had found him on the floor of his office, Ted began experiencing recurring, unpredictable blackouts. One of them had happened as he stopped for a red light on his way home after work. When the light turned green and his car didn’t move, traffic backed up almost four blocks before a police officer arrived to control the angry motorists.
The doctors discovered that his blood-alcohol level was unbelievably high. So high that they wondered how Ted had been able to drive his car at all.
He had no longer been able to hide his alcoholism from the board of directors at Mackurcher and Co., and they delivered an ultimatum: either enter a rehabilitation centre immediately or hand in his resignation.
Ted had agreed. He’d chosen a place near Chicago, far away enough, he’d hoped, to protect his family’s privacy.
His health had improved immensely over the two months of treatment. He gained weight and looked rested. He met with the board of directors and assured them that he was back in control and that the personal problems which had caused his drinking were resolved. The board agreed to extend his role as president for a further six-month trial period.
When Ted returned to his office, the liquor cabinet was gone. All that remained was a drinking glass and a crystal glass pitcher of water. He didn’t have a problem with that.
It was the painting on the wall he couldn’t cope with.
As Ted gazed at the landscape, the two angels he had seen before sat atop the clouds as if they’d never left, not even for a minute. Ted swung his chair abruptly away. A few moments later, feeling a bit more settled and confident, he twisted the chair back and glanced at the painting. They’re still there!
He stormed over to the painting, intending to take it down to the furnace room and burn it, but when he reached the wall, the angels had disappeared.
He stood there, dazed. Then he swung the painting aside, exposing the wall safe. He entered the combination, but the safe would not open. He had misdialed. He tried again and heard a click after entering the last number. Inside sat the two letters he’d placed there, oh, years ago now.
He hesitated, then took a deep breath as he reached in and pulled out the envelopes.
They were still bound together by two elastics, the second still holding despite being frayed. He grunted in mild bemusement; even a frayed, tenuous elastic was holding onto this union like a steel chain. He felt the envelopes and the metal objects inside them. Ted relaxed. The pewter angels were still secure within each envelope. He must have been mistaken. There was nothing perched on the clouds in the painting.
He felt the objects again through the paper envelopes, noticing
a strange warmth emanating through the paper as if the pewter had life. Ted quickly shoved the envelopes back into the safe, way at the back, then closed the door and spun the dial. A whiff of Jenny’s lilac-scented perfume lingered in the air. What should have been a pleasant aroma only reminded him of his deceit. Ted stepped back and swung the painting until it was flat against the wall again, and the movement fanned away the accusation of his daughter’s perfume. He hoped the landscape would hide his treachery.
Somewhat relieved, Ted returned to his desk and tried to set his mind to the report in front of him, except the angels beckoned him. The more he resisted looking at the painting, the stronger the desire to look became. Beads of perspiration sprang up on his brow. He was no longer conscious of what he was reading, his mind was once again on the painting…and the angels.
But the angels are locked in the safe and can’t possibly get out!
Despite his rationalizations, he could no longer fight the growing compulsion to look. He had to know, one way or the other. Slowly, he turned his head as sweat poured over his body, soaking the back of his shirt to his skin. He tried to focus only on the frame and avoid looking at the actual painting, but he couldn’t. And there on the clouds were the two angels, staring directly at him. All the old repressed feelings of guilt and shame swarmed him like demons.
Throughout his eight-week treatment, Ted had never revealed or discussed what had driven him to the bottle. He was too ashamed to let anyone know what he had done to his daughter; how he had lied to her.
He knew he was losing control. He needed help, and he needed it now. He launched himself from the chair and sped past the painting to the bookshelf. Books flew left and right until Ted’s hands landed on the thirteen ounce bottle of vodka he’d hidden there in case of an emergency.
He gazed at his friend for a moment then whispered, “Thank you. Thank you.” Opening it, he pressed the mouth of the bottle to dry, trembling lips and drank non-stop until half its contents were drained.
Within minutes Ted relaxed, the liquor washing away the guilt that had surfaced only moments earlier. In control once more, he returned to his desk to read the report.
But this one lapse turned into another and then another, until within a month Ted’s drinking was out of control once more. This time, he couldn’t hide it from the board and, with further declining sales and his colleagues’ loss of confidence in him, he was forced to resign.
In the month that followed, Ted landed back in the rehabilitation centre, filled with so much shame over the loss of his job, his position as president, and guilt over how he’d lied to his daughter—and so stressed over the strain of detoxification— that he’d suffered a massive heart attack.
Elaine entered Mr. Sarsky’s hospital room just after Jenny and Edith stepped out for dinner and some fresh air. She sat beside his bed and looked at the sorrowful figure lying before her. He had been such an outstanding man in the beginning. She’d so respected and admired him, and had wanted to help him.
Elaine waited for a half-hour or so, watching and praying for Mr. Sarsky. How could someone who had appeared to have everything end up this way? He’d had it all: money, power, the presidency of one of the largest corporations in Canada, an estate, a family and a beautiful daughter. Why did human beings make such destructive choices day in and day out that eventually cost them all they had? How could such an intelligent man be so utterly stu— Elaine, out of respect, could hardly bring herself to think it, but she could think of no other word to describe what Mr. Sarsky had done to himself. It was stupid.
Mr. Sarsky moaned, then opened his eyes. Elaine moved to the edge of her chair.
“Mr. Sarsky?” she said softly, not wanting to startle him. “Ted?”
He turned his head to look at her. She knew he saw the tears in her eyes. He lifted his hand, and she instantly reached out for it and held it tenderly.
“Elaine?”
“Yes,” she nodded. Uncertain whether he’d recognized her, she said again, “Yes, it’s Elaine.”
Ted smiled, but even that simple act seemed to drain him of his remaining energy. She knew this might be the last time she ever saw him alive.
“Mr. Sarsky, the new president is coming in next week. He’ll need documents that I believe are in the wall safe of your office.”
No response.
Did he even have the cognitive abilities to understand what she was asking or to recall the combination?
“Mr. Sarsky? I need to know the combination to the safe.”
Ted stared at her.
“I understand,” he said finally. He closed his eyes as if he were about to drift off again. “Begin at zero and then four…”
Elaine scrabbled in her purse for the small notebook she always carried and jotted down the number as he spoke.
“And then turn left to…twenty-nine…and right…” his voice grew faint and his speech more slurred as he drifted away and then back. “Eighteen…and back to…forty…nine.”
When Elaine looked up from her notebook, Mr. Sarsky was asleep. At that moment, a nurse walked in, clearly surprised to see her there.
“I’m afraid you have to go now, miss,” the nurse said. “You’re not family and Mr. Sarsky needs a lot of rest.”
“Yes, of course,” Elaine replied as she brushed past the nurse with one last look back as she slipped into the hallway.
When Jenny and Edith returned to the hospital after a hurried dinner, Ted was tossing back and forth, muttering about angels and letters under his breath.
Jenny rushed over and laid her hand over his.
“The letters.”
“What letters?” Jenny looked at her mother, who simply stared back.
“Angels. Deliver the letters.”
“What’s he talking about, Mom?”
Her mother shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Ted cried out again, “Please deliver them…the letters….the angelic letters…deliver them…” Ted took a deep breath, “Jenny, I have something to…”
“What is it, Dad?” Jenny gripped his hand.
Edith leaned forward, her eyes widening, her mouth open in anticipation of a long-feared, dreaded confession.
“Jenny, I…I’m so sor…”
Edith drew yet nearer to her dying husband, praying he wouldn’t…
Ted moaned, and opened his mouth to speak…but whatever he had been about to say only God would know.
He let out his last breath on a long, slow sigh that lasted an eternity, as if he were finally letting go of all the turmoil he had buried so deep inside him. The anxious expression on his face eased. His heart stopped beating, the jagged up-and-down on the monitor replaced by a single line. Ted was finally at peace.
When Elaine left Mr. Sarsky’s hospital room, she headed right back to work. It was after six so no one would be there, but she had to know if she had the right combination. If not, visiting hours or no visiting hours, she’d have to return to the hospital and ask Mr. Sarsky again.
The elevator opened at the eighteenth floor, the hall lit only by a few overhead lights. There was something eerie about an office building at night. For the first time she noticed the sound of her footsteps as they tapped across the tile floor to the office door and the loud hum of the florescent fixture above her.
She fumbled in her purse for the keys, then tried to steady her trembling hand as she inserted it into the deadbolt. Uneasiness swept over her. She began to wish she had waited until morning to try and open the safe, but she knew she’d never be able to rest until she knew whether or not she’d written the numbers down correctly.
But if she were brutally honest with herself, she would have to admit that mostly she wanted to see what was in the safe. Her instincts told her that it held more than business documents. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to enter the secret inner world of Ted’s mi
nd. A vague memory surfaced in her thoughts to the time when, oh, three or four years ago, she’d entered the office and seen Mr. Sarsky at the safe, holding some envelopes and, it appeared, talking to them. He was so engrossed with the letters he hadn’t even noticed her standing there. But perhaps those were merely business letters and surely they would be gone by now anyway. Still…
She closed the main doors behind her then walked to what once had been Ted’s office and opened the door. It was dark and silent and cold. She flipped on the light, her eyes on the painting as she went right to it. She swung it open to the left, as she had seen other presidents do over the years.
Exhilaration and anxiety commingled as they flowed through her. She was about to get a glimpse into a mystery that had always troubled her, and yet she was nervous, because to solve the mystery she’d had to venture where she had never before been allowed. She glanced at the notepad in her hand, then with trembling fingers, turned the dial.
The handle did not yield.
Was it forty and then nine or was it forty-nine? she asked herself. She tried again, but the safe still would not open.
Perhaps in the rush to find her notepad she had misheard the first digit. She struggled to recall what Ted had said. His words began to ring out in her mind as if he were standing next to her. Maybe it wasn’t four, but fourteen. A peace washed over her as she re-entered the numbers: 14…29…18…49.
Click.
Elaine stood there, her mouth open and her eyes wide, trying to see into the dim interior. It was an old safe, unusually deep. It used to have an interior light that turned on automatically as soon as the door opened, but the bulb had burnt out years ago, and neither Mr. Sarsky nor previous presidents had replaced it.
Normally, Elaine would feel wildly uncomfortable to be standing there staring into the safe that only presidents were allowed to access. But she was surprised by how at ease she was. It was as if she was meant to be there, a part of some overall plan that had begun long ago.
Another Angel of Love Page 44