Two days after Ted’s funeral the front door bell rang.
“Would you please get that, Jenny?”
No answer. The doorbell rang again.
Mrs. Sarsky emerged from the laundry room.
The doorbell rang again.
“Oh, where is that Jenny? Why isn’t she getting the door?” Edith muttered under her breath as she padded down the hall. She wasn’t at all dressed for greeting guests.
When Edith opened the door, she found a postman on the landing, holding a letter and a clipboard.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Edith replied, looking puzzled.
“I have a special delivery letter for a…” he glanced at his clipboard, “Jenny Sarsky.”
“That’s my daughter. She’s not here right now, but I can sign for that.”
The postman handed Edith the clipboard and she signed on the dotted line.
“And here’s the letter, ma’am. You have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Edith said, though only out of habit as she registered what she held in her hand. She looked at the original post date, December ’56, and then at the stamped date just below, August ’62.
Where on earth had it come from?
Upstairs, the shower turned off. Jenny would be down in a few moments. What should she do? Should she give Jenny the letter after all these years? The funeral had been so hard on her. But she was seeing James and they were planning to be married.
“Oh, what should I do?”
Edith stood frozen in the foyer. Above her, the bathroom door opened—or was it the bedroom door? It was the bedroom door! Edith heard Jenny walk down the hallway towards the stairs, then down them. Quickly she shoved the letter under her arm and ducked into the kitchen as Jenny came down the last few steps. Edith opened a cupboard, tossed the letter behind some dishes, and slammed it shut just as Jenny burst into the kitchen.
“Boy,” said Jenny, “did that shower ever feel good. It was just what I needed. I’ve been feeling so sad and sluggish lately and it just revived me.”
Jenny’s hair was still wet and the amber-blond colour was a shade darker than usual. It would glow and grow lighter as her hair dried. Still, Jenny looked radiant as she stood in the bright sunlit kitchen, the tip of her nose was shiny and her blue eyes sparkled in the light.
Then Jenny’s gaze met her mother’s.
“Is something wrong? You look so flushed.”
“Oh, I’m fine, Jenny. Just a little tired still from the funeral.”
Jenny nodded. She wasn’t herself either. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need help with the laundry?”
“No, I just put the last load in, and Maggie is in tomorrow to do the cleaning. I’ll ask her to do the ironing, too.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have some breakfast. Care for some, Mom?”
Edith’s heart stopped as Jenny opened the cupboard and reached for a bowl.
“Oh, Jenny!” Edith said, trying to distract her.
Jenny grabbed the bowl and turned towards her mother at the same time. “Yes, what is it?”
“Oh…oh, I—” Momentarily lost for words, Edith struggled to continue. “I may be going downtown later. Care to go too?”
Jenny thought a bit. “No, I’m reading a good book. Think I’ll hang out at home and read awhile. I’m also still a little tired myself from all the commotion of the funeral.”
Jenny set the bowl on the table then turned to another cupboard for a box of Kellogg’s Cornflakes. On her way back to the table, she got out a bottle of milk from the refrigerator.
Just as Edith thought it was safe to breathe, Jenny glanced up at her. “What letters was Dad referring to the night he died?”
Edith’s blood ran cold and rushed to her head. She felt faint.
“You sure you’re feeling all right? You look feverish now.”
Edith was at a loss for words. Her hands trembled so much coffee sloshed from her mug onto the countertop. She was cornered and guilty. Ted’s last words had been a plea for her to deliver those letters, and moments ago she’d had in her hand the one that should have been delivered to her daughter, and now she didn’t know what to do. How complicated matters could get when things weren’t done as they should have been right from the start. But it was much too late for all that. She needed time to think it all through.
Trying desperately to avoid further discussion, Edith quickly said, “You know, I do feel somewhat flushed, Jenny. I think I’ll lie down for a bit in the living room.”
Jenny helped Edith to the couch, retrieved the blanket draped over the armchair and pulled it over her mother.
“Thank you, Jenny. Why don’t you go on out to the patio and read your book? It’s such a beautiful morning.”
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll prop the kitchen door open—if you need anything, just call.
“Thanks again, Jenny.” Edith closed her eyes as Jenny stood over her, hoping that would send a signal to her daughter to leave, and end any further conversation.
Edith’s mind churned as she lay on the couch. What should she do with the letter? There must have been another letter, too. Ted had said letters. With an S. He’d also talked about angels. That made absolutely no sense. She wondered what that boy, Henry, was doing now. He could be dead or married for all they knew. Why should she give a letter to Jenny and start that mess all over again?
Jenny was going out with James and seemed content enough. And yet, at times, she sensed that Jenny still thought of that darn boy from Regina. Perhaps she should call that grocery store. Engelmann’s, wasn’t it?
Perhaps the owner could tell me what happened to Henry. Maybe that would help me to decide what to do.
Feeling somewhat better for having made a decision of sorts, Edith relaxed. All the cares of the morning dissolved into a dreamlike reverie. But she couldn’t shut out Ted’s last words: Please deliver them…the letters…the angelic letters…deliver them…. The words were indelibly imprinted on her heart and mind. She had an obligation to fulfill the wish of a dying man, and yet it would go against all she’d believed in over the years.
At first it was a comet streaking across the sky in her dream. As the bright object neared, she saw that it was an angel, its wings spread wide, slowing his speed and finally settling down in front of a young girl. Jenny. The angel held a white, glowing envelope and reached out to give it to the young girl.
“Mom, mom!” Jenny’s voice broke through her dream. Edith blinked and looked up at her daughter’s face etched with worry. “You sure were tired. You slept all morning and most of the afternoon. It’s almost three o’clock.”
“Oh my,” Edith said. She tossed the blanket off her and lowered her feet to the carpet. She shook her head slightly to shake off the drowsiness. “What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been reading all day.”
“What would you like for supper?”
“Oh, just soup and a sandwich will be fine, Mom. Don’t bother making a big meal tonight. I’m going out with James to a movie later, and we usually stop at a café afterwards. I’ll get something there if I’m still hungry.”
“All right, that sounds fine.”
“Well, I think it’s my turn for a nap now.” Jenny went over to her mother, smiled, and kissed her cheek.
As her daughter disappeared upstairs, Edith sat on the couch, sifting through the images from her dream. It had been so vivid and real. An angel delivering a letter to Jenny. Could it be the letter she’d received that morning? Was the dream trying to tell her something? She felt a chill as contradicting thoughts of what to do about the letter flooded her mind.
Oh yes, she was going to call that grocery store to see if she could find out what had happened to Henry. Once she knew, maybe she would know what to do with the letter too. Edith went into the kit
chen, picked up the phone and dialed 0.
When the operator answered, Edith asked for Engelmann’s Grocery Store in Regina. The operator connected her with an operator in Saskatchewan and Edith repeated the request. When the operator told her the number no longer existed, she asked for the number for Pederson on Broder Street. Moments later the operator recited the number and Edith jotted it down, repeating it back to the operator to make sure she had all the digits correct, then hung up.
As she looked at the phone number, heat suffused her body again. She retrieved the letter from the cupboard and stared at it for a long time. She took a brown bag from a drawer and put the letter inside. She set the bag on the kitchen table then made a fresh pot of coffee.
As the water warmed, Edith returned to the phone.
“Operator. How may I help you?”
“Yes, operator, could you please connect me with the Pederson residence in Regina, Saskatchewan.”
“And what is the number, ma’am?”
Edith read the number she’d written down.
“Please hold while I get a Saskatchewan operator to dial that number.”
“Thank you.” Edith wiped her sweaty palms on her slacks so she wouldn’t drop the receiver, but there was nothing she could do about the rivulet trickling between her breasts. What if Henry answers? I hope he’s not there. Oh my, what have I done? I should have thought this through more carefully…
“Hello?” came a female voice.
“Hello,” Edith said, her voice trembling. “Is this Mrs. Pederson?”
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“You may not remember me, Mrs. Pederson. My name is Edith Sarsky. We used to live just three doors down from you. My daughter and your son were good friends.”
“Oh, you’re Jenny’s mom!”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m Jenny’s mother.” There was a long pause. “Is Henry at home?”
“No,” replied Mary, “he’s at work.”
“Good. May I ask you a personal question, Mrs. Pederson?”
“Well, it depends—I…of course.”
“It has to do with a letter that Henry sent Jenny.”
“Yes…?” Mary said after another rather lengthy pause.
“Well, I was wondering, Mrs. Pederson, if Henry has received a letter from Jenny?”
There was complete silence as if the phone had suddenly gone dead.
“Hello? Are you still on the line, Mrs. Pederson?”
“Yes, yes, I am…” There was another long pause. “As a matter of fact, I received a letter from your daughter just this morning.”
“Has Henry seen it yet?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, we also received a letter from your son today, and I’m wondering if I should give it to Jenny.”
“Mrs. Sarsky,” the woman on the other end of the phone took a deep breath, “my son is getting married in less than two weeks. Jenny had more than enough time to write to Henry. I…I’ve decided not to give it to him under the present circumstances.”
“I see,” Edith said, looking down. “Jenny is seeing someone else as well, and they are also contemplating marriage. I also thought it best not to stir things up again.”
“Perhaps, then, it’s best to simply leave things as they are? It’s too late to start things over and it sounds like it would just cause a lot of trouble and heartache for all concerned—”
Edith interrupted. “Yes, I understand. Can we agree then to discard the letters and not concern our children with them?”
There was a long silence. “Yes, I—I agree with that, Mrs. Sarsky. Both our children seem to be happy with their new partners. Why create unnecessary turmoil?”
“Yes, Mrs. Pederson, I understand your point of view completely. I’m very happy that I called. You’ve helped me make a very difficult decision.”
“Well, then perhaps we can just leave it at that?”
“Certainly, Mrs. Pederson. You won’t be hearing from me again, but you can rest assured that Jenny will not get this letter while I am alive.”
“Fine,” Henry’s mom replied, “Nor will Henry.”
After another long pause, Jenny’s mom said, “It’s been a pleasure talking with you. I’m certain you have many things to do. I appreciate your understanding.”
“As I appreciate yours, Mrs. Sarsky. Goodbye.”
Edith held the receiver against her ear long after Mrs. Pederson had hung up. She was still holding the receiver when Jenny came through the kitchen door a moment later.
Edith finally replaced the receiver on its hook.
“Who was that?”
“Oh, no one. I was just going to call a friend to see if she wanted to go downtown but I changed my mind.”
Jenny went to the fridge and took out some orange juice.
“Looks like your coffee’s ready, Mom.”
“Yes, of course,” Edith said. She rushed over to stove, thinking about how long the coffee had been percolating.
After adding cream to her cup, Edith joined Jenny at the table.
“You look better, Mom. Not so feverish.”
“Yes, I do feel more rested. It’s been a very trying time.”
Then Edith noticed the brown bag on the table. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about it. Much to her horror, Jenny followed her gaze, then picked the bag up.
“What’s this, Mom?” she asked, ready to open it.
Edith snatched it out of her hand. “Oh, it’s nothing, Jenny—none of your business. Something your father forgot to deal with.” Edith jumped up from her seat, still holding the bag.
Jenny looked at her mother with a hurt, puzzled expression. “Are you sure you’re okay, Mom? I’m really not trying to pry.”
“Oh, will you quit worrying about me! Of course, I’m fine. I just need more rest.” She stormed out of the kitchen.
Jenny sipped her orange juice and wondered what had gotten into her mother. The funeral had been tough, but she’d been acting strangely all day. And that bag, it sure felt warm. What on earth was in it that she wasn’t supposed to see?
Jenny downed the rest of her juice in a single gulp then rose from the table to set her glass in the sink.
As Jenny walked past the phone, she noticed a telephone number on the pad beside it. Jenny studied the number. It wasn’t an Ottawa number and yet she knew she’d seen it before. Who on earth had her mother called?
“Mom are you up?”
Edith pushed herself out of her chair and opened the door. Jenny stared at her, trying to decide if her mother was all right.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“I told you to stop worrying about me.”
“I don’t have to go to the movie with James. Would you rather I stay home with you?”
“No, no, Jenny, that’s fine. Please run along and have a good time. It’s been such a hard week; I just need some rest.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I am. Positive. Just go. Say hello to James for me?”
Reluctantly, Jenny turned and walked down the hallway. At the head of the stairs, Jenny looked back. Her mom was at the bedroom door.
“Just go,” repeated Edith as she shooed Jenny with her hands “Have a good time. I’ll be just fine. I need some time alone.”
Finally, something that made sense.
Of course Mom needs some time alone.
“All right, Mom, I won’t be too late. See you in a couple of hours. Oh, by the way? This is driving me crazy—the number by the phone looks so familiar, but I can’t remember whose it is. Who were you calling?”
Edith thought she might faint on the spot. How much more of this could she possibly take?
“I…I don’t know. I was just doodling numbers as I talked to Doreen. Now go on. Have a goo
d time.”
Jenny studied her mom. “Really? Because I—“
“Yes! Go!”
As soon as Jenny left with James, Edith emerged from her room with the brown paper bag and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
“How could I be so careless?” She ripped off the top page of the pad with the Pederson’s phone number on it, glanced at it and walked into the living room. She put several logs into the fireplace and lit the fire. Crumpling the paper, she tossed the page into the flames and watched as the evidence of her phone call to Mrs. Pederson burned away.
Whew, that was close.
Edith pulled the letter out of the bag and set it on the coffee table, then crumpled the paper bag and tossed it too into the fire. Edith watched as it unravelled, bursting into flames. Her face brightened momentarily as the bag flared then turned to ash.
Edith picked up the letter next and took it too to the fireplace. Before she placed it over the flames, she remembered Ted doing the same thing almost six years ago when they had decided to destroy Henry’s and Jenny’s letters. She recalled how awful Ted had looked and felt after he’d tossed Jenny’s letter into the fire. She remembered, too, Ted’s dying plea that she deliver the letters. His final wish.
Twinges of guilt tugged at her conscience. For a brief moment Edith questioned her objectives but instantly recovered. Ted had been delirious. Had he been in his right mind, he’d never have made such a request. And furthermore, Mrs. Pederson too had decided not to show her child the letter Jenny had sent. No, she was doing the best thing for everyone concerned.
Edith frowned into the fire, deep in thought. About to drop the letter into the leaping flames, she felt the heavy object inside the envelope slide down its length, jarring her hand when it struck the end. It felt warm in her palm and sent a strange, ominous vibration through her. She withdrew the envelope from the threatening flames. A mixture of guilt and foreboding swept over her. Perhaps that was what Ted had been feeling all those years: sorrow, remorse—and fear.
“I certainly don’t want to end up like he did.”
Edith backed away from the fire and glared at the menacing flames. The pervasive sense of foreboding within her strengthened. All the memories surrounding the letters flooded her mind, weighing her down.
Another Angel of Love Page 47