Pray for Us Sinners

by Marilyn L. R. Hall

  Rose had forgotten about it until this particular need arose. This need to get out of the world and she’d managed to steal it that very morning before Jack’s funeral when, for a change, nobody was paying her any attention. She hadn’t had time to check for bullets though, and now she was afraid it might be empty. What would she do then?

  With trepidation, Rose opened the chamber and relief poured over her. It was full and she smiled ironically. Hopefully, she’d only need one. Then she hesitated for a moment because the room seemed so warm and pleasant suddenly. Cozy and full of sweet memories. Not at all a room to die in … death itself seemed remote and out of the question as she let herself gently down onto the edge of the bed and then, on her back, stretched out upon it. She bunched the pillow up under her head and lay there like that for a little while, the gun lying beside her with her fingers wrapped loosely around it.

  Her mind didn’t seem to be with her body anymore. It seemed to have already begun its journey out of the world. Everything around her was so still, and the reflected light in the room ebbed and flowed and mesmerized her with its flickering as her memories began to play before her like a movie on a screen and she watched herself and Jack and their whole life together pass quickly and continuously up there on the ceiling. While she watched she was aware suddenly of another presence in the room.

  “Rose Sharon!” He was really there—pushing her over a little so he could take a seat beside her on the bed, looking down at her with those wicked, teasing eyes as blue as cornflowers and with that rascally grin that bedazzled her. She was so surprised she couldn’t speak and she feared reaching toward him lest he vanish again.

  But this time he was talking to her. “You’re ready to come with me, Rose Sharon?”

  “Can I?” She asked studying his beloved face with anxious eyes.

  He leaned down to her and there came the shocking realization that she could feel his mouth on hers. His sweet kiss pressing against her mouth and she thought she must already be dead since all the other times he’d come she couldn’t touch him at all.

  Then he raised up a little and reached across her, laying his hand on top of her hand that held the gun.

  “Not with that though, Rose. You couldn’t come where I am if you did that and it would leave too mean a memory for our little girl.” Then he unwound her fingers from the weapon and took her hand in his pressing it against her breast between their bodies.

  “You know about Cynthia?” She hardly dared believe her own ears.

  Jack straightened up again and his fingers brushed a coppery colored curl back from her forehead. “I know everything now, Rose. I know that I sinned against you and against her.” He took a deep breath. “I know that I wasted what God meant to be a beautiful life with you.”

  Rose reached up and touched his beloved mouth. Some of his raven-black hair fell forward then framing his face.

  “I can’t bear it here anymore without you, Jack. I want to be with you.”

  “Come then,” he said and instantly they were gone.

  Cynthia Jackleen had not given Mama’s note to Grampa Leo. She used the dime to buy two candy bars and a box of crackerjacks from the counter and then after giving him and Gramma Vi each a polite thank you kiss and hug she had run back up the stairs and opened the door to the apartment.

  The room was shadowy, lit by the misty light outside the windows and Cynthia hurried through the kitchen to the bedroom door. She called to her Mama but there was no response.

  Then she saw the man sitting on Mama’s bed and Mama lying there beside him. Cynthia ran around him to the head of the bed so she could see the man’s face and be close enough to talk to Rose. Just as she reached that position Cynthia saw him bend down and kiss Rose. Mama looked so happy and more beautiful than she’d ever looked before. Then the man raised his head and Cynthia was looking into his eyes. They were bright blue and bottomless and they swallowed her up in their depth so she could only stare at him.

  But she knew right away who he was. He was Jack Nash, the man in the picture. The man Mama always told her was her daddy.

  Wildly excited by then, she tried to talk to them. Called out to Mama … even patted her arm and finally tugged on the man’s vest that was hanging open, but neither of them would acknowledge her. Wouldn’t even look at her. It was beginning to scare her and she started to whimper when suddenly without any warning at all, Jack Nash was gone and somehow, in some mysterious, unfathomable way, Mama was gone with him!

  A short time later, when Leo opened the door from the hall, a fleeting sense of impending doom flickered across his brain. There was an eerie silence and in the midst of it, a faint whimpering that he couldn’t identify. With dread, he called out to Rose but there was no answer. Only the whimpering became more persistent.

  “O my God! Don’t let it be true!” he prayed as he forced himself to look into the bedroom.

  He couldn’t be sure. Perhaps Rose was only asleep. He noticed than the whimpering came from a tiny form curled up on the cot across the room. He could see the blackness of her wide open eyes and the terror that filled them even in this dim light. Should he turn on the light? Or would it make bright a memory it would be better Cynthia not have?

  He went to her and lifted her in his arms. “Let’s go down and see Gramma Vi,”

  Cynthia struggled against him. “Mama,” she whimpered. “I want my Mama.” And by then she was crying openly.

  “Let’s see Gramma Vi first. Then we’ll see Mama.” And although it wasn’t easy, he managed to hold her long enough to get her out of the apartment and down the stairs. She slipped away from him at the door to the grocery but he caught her again and firmly carried her to Viola.

  “Viola, there’s some bad trouble. Please get Cynthia something to keep her occupied while I see what has to be done.”

  Viola took the little girl and from the stricken look on Leo’s face discerned what he had seen upstairs. “No! Dear God!” she breathed trying not to let her growing panic disturb Cynthia further.

  Leo nodded grimly and rushed back up the stairs. This time he turned on the kitchen light and saw the suitcase and the letters and the several items set neatly upon the table. His body sagged back against the door while his brain fought to deny the inevitable.

  It was an endless time before he ventured again to her bedroom and he switched on the electric ceiling light as he entered and took in the scene before him. Rose lay pale and cold. It was obvious her spirit had taken flight from her body. Leo had never seen death so plain before. Beside her on the bed was a gun … small and pearl-handled … he thought he recognized it as something Mary Jean kept for protection. And he heard himself moan her name, rather than consciously speak it. Then he fell to his knees on the floor beside her. “How could you let this happen, God? How could this happen? Why didn’t you let me know it was coming so I could have stopped it? Why didn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I stop it?

  His self-rebuke went on and on while he sought some sign of life in her. At last he had to reconcile himself to the facts as they lay before him and at the same time he saw the futility of self-blame and he closed his mouth and took her small hand and held it between his palms, praying that he might forgive himself … forgive her … forgive Jack Nash … forgive God!

  “Well, my sweet little Rose Sharon. At last you are at peace.” He looked into her face and saw that it was true. She looked serene and happy. So he kissed her cold hand, which already looked like pale marble, and replaced it tenderly upon her chest. Then with his face pressed against the cool chenille spread, he gave into his feelings and wept bitterly.

  On the morning of Rose’s funeral, the sun broke through the gloom that had settled on the city the day Jack was buried. It shone golden and warm and a gentle Indian summer breeze rustled the last of the colored leaves still clinging to the trees in the cemetery, while the leaves that had already fallen crunched underfoot. The sorrowful little band of mourners wound their way past granite tombstones of a
ll sizes and shapes and ages until they stood almost in the same spot they had stood only days before. The earth that covered Jack’s grave was still fresh and now there was a newly dug grave beside his, into which they lowered the coffin holding Rose’s remains.

  Then good Father Paul read from his Bible and spoke some comforting prayers, at least they were meant to comfort, while a youthful altar boy in his starched white blouse atop his long black gown, rhythmically swung the incense burner perfuming the air around them. Nobody who watched and listened felt much better after hearing the words anyway. They had each loved and cherished Rose in his or her own way, but each had cherished her so deeply that losing her … especially by her own hand … was beyond comforting. Eyes, red and swollen from days of weeping remained dry at this, the final contact they would ever have with her in this world. Someday, perhaps, they would remember her without such unbearable sorrow, but for now the sorrow hurt like an open wound … too raw to touch … to gross to look upon, and hearts were too broken to ever think they could be mended and whole again. Rose had stood there with them those few days earlier, her eyes swollen and streaming tears. And now they were leaving her there. Going home without her. Laying her finally and eternally in the cold dark earth beside her one and only love, Jack Nash.

  Claire was trembling so uncontrollably she feared she might lose her ability to stand and grabbed Walter’s arm which she discovered was trembling right along with her. “Walter, I don’t want to leave her out here all alone. How can we just go away and leave her here?”

  But nobody answered her and after a while, the mourners turned away and walked back to their cars. Leo and Viola stopped for a few moments to converse with Father Paul before he and the altar-boy were whisked away in the parish car driven by a parish member who regularly chauffeured the priest on church business. Mary Jean took Scotty’s arm and he walked with her to Leo’s car, where he helped her into the backseat and then left the cemetery on foot to walk home by himself—his three companions didn’t know exactly how far away the apartment he shared with his grandmother was but he didn’t give them an opportunity to suggest he ride with them anyway; he chose not to make them feel the need to do that. It was simpler just to walk away without any conversation.

  Mary Jean rode with Leo and Viola, and all three of them spent that ride in silent contemplation. Following in their own car, Walter and Claire Louise each stared wordlessly forward and the only sound was an occasional sniffle that Claire wasn’t able to stifle.

  The objective of their mission now was to remove the rest of Rose’s things from her apartment. They had already taken the suitcase and letters and gifts she’d left them. Claire Louise and Viola had packed up all her personal things and they were already down at the Bradleys’ to be given either to Cynthia or to Claire’s church. All the furniture belonged to Mary Jean, so this was just a sort of mop-up operation—one last look around to make sure nothing was left behind.

  Never mind that a plethora of tears had already been shed, and their resolve was to be quick and unemotional: when they finally walked into the kitchen, they found themselves standing around awkwardly and without purpose, while their eyes took in, for the last time, the familiar room that seemed so painfully empty now and almost supernaturally quiet.

  Claire Louise’s tears began to flow with renewed vigor. “I’m going to have to get through this quickly,” she pleaded. “I can’t bear to be here with her gone.”

  Leo nodded his understanding. “Isn’t it remarkable the way that girl lit up everything around her? Except for the heartbreak she suffered after Jack left, she always made us look on the bright side.” He sighed, “This is a dark and dreary room without her—and lonesome.”

  Walter was rubbing his eyes with his handkerchief. “Right,” he spoke in a husky, breaking voice. “Let’s make this quick or else I won’t want to leave at all. I may decide to move in and try to hold onto whatever of her spirit she may have left here.”

  Claire grimaced and turned away, hoping that nobody besides herself saw anything but a brother’s love in his remark.

  And then for a while, each of them wandered aimlessly through the rooms, unhappy being there but dreading the end of their mission.

  Walter found a toothbrush in the bathroom, and Claire told him to drop it in the waste basket. There was a writing tablet with some pencils and envelopes in the drawer of the library table that Claire asked if Viola thought Scotty might like to have. Viola gave her a nod so Claire handed them over. The little red enameled cup was discovered with its treasure of nickels and dimes, and Walter took that for Cynthia as a keepsake.

  They seemed to be finished then. Rose and Jack and Cynthia Jackleen Nash appeared to have been wiped off everything that remained in the little apartment. It was no longer anybody’s home … just an empty set of rooms with nothing to remind them that a man and his wife had lived and loved there … begun a family there … separated and cried … suffered years of loneliness and patient waiting and finally died there. Nothing left to recall to mind that life had begun and ended for a family in those barren rooms. Rose and Jack Nash had been scrubbed away, dusted off, and swept out and all that remained were two lonely rooms and a bath and one used toothbrush in a wastebasket. Nothing left of them except some cherished memories in the hearts of their friends.

  Those loving friends and family, who now avoid looking too closely at one another as they file out the door and down the stairs because they don’t want to cry anymore.

  Back downstairs in the grocery, the sadness lifted a bit when Claire Louise and Walter paused to embrace Mary Jean and bid her good-bye before Leo and Viola walked them to Walter’s car and the Wesslemans and the Bradleys found themselves unable to do any more for a while than stare at one another without words.

  Eventually, Walter broke the silence, “I can’t think of anything more to say,” he admitted in a soft voice, and turned to look at his wife with a shrug. Claire Louise shook her head. “Walter and I just want to thank you for all you’ve done for Rose and Cynthia. You’ve been very good to them—and—and,” she was obviously overwhelmed, and both Viola and Leo came to her rescue. “Rose and Cynthia are our family.” “And Jack too, and we didn’t do anything for them that wasn’t returned a hundred-fold.” “They brought only joy and love into our lives.” “We are the ones who were blessed.” and finally, “Gott in Himmel!—nobody has to thank us for anything!”

  They denied the importance of their generosity in turns until Claire sighed and reworded her remark.

  “I’m sorry—I know I said that wrong. I just—I just” she gave them a look of frustration and then turned away. “I can’t talk any more. I need to go home now.” Walter rushed to open the car door for her, talking as he went, “But we’ll be seeing both of you often.” he promised. “Rose was very firm about Cynthia going to church with you and wanting her to stay close to her Gramma and Grampa.” Claire crawled inside the car and Walter closed the door quickly. “We’ll have lots of time to visit once we get—once we recover from this ...” he was struggling to find the word he wanted and he settled finally for “this god-awful tragedy.”

  The Wesselmans agreed.

  “We will come to see Cynthia. And you know how to get to our place too,” Leo reminded them, “So you come on over whenever you feel like it. Please don’t think you have to wait for an invitation.”

  And Viola added, “We are all family now and we won’t worry about formalities like invitations.”

  Walter smiled and walked up to them, embracing Viola and Leo in turn before going back to his side of the car. “You Wesselmans are good people,” he spoke from his heart. “Rose and Jack were lucky to know you and so are Claire and I. We are going to be one big family starting right now. But we’ve got to get home to Cynthia and JC now so they know they haven’t been deserted.”

  “Right!” said Leo, “And Viola and me got to get our minds on stocking shelves or something. We’ll see you folks real soon.” Then he took Viola�
�s arm and the two of them turned away toward the store. But before Walter could take his seat and close the door, Viola shook off her husband’s hand and hurried back to give Walter one last hug. Then she backed off and watched him pull away from the curb and disappear into the traffic down the street. “God bless you both and the babies too,” she called though she knew he couldn’t hear her and then with tears streaming down her cheeks again, she climbed the few concrete steps to catch up with Leo who stood waiting for her at the door. “Oh, Leo!” she sobbed and he slipped his arm around her and just held her awhile. “I know, Liebchen. We are never going to stop missing her. Rose was a true daughter to us. We will pray for strength to get through this, but it is going to be lonesome without her and Cynthia to light up our little grocery store.” He kissed her cheek. “Come inside now, Viola, we have a lot of praying to do.”

  Mary Jean was waiting at the counter and she confronted Leo as soon as he stepped through the door by waving the Closed sign at him to show she’d already taken it out of the window.

  “Did anybody ever tell you how she died, Leo?” She had been horrified to learn that Rose had stolen her gun as a suicide weapon but she had been assured that the gun hadn’t been used after all. Now she was anxious to know how Rose Sharon had ended her life.

  Leo shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “Nobody could say for sure.” He tried in vain to move away from her. He wanted to do something constructive. Empty crates … stock shelves ... move something. But Mary Jean was determined; she pursued him like a hawk after a mouse. Eventually he found himself at the end of an aisle with no place to turn so he had to give up. He stared at the shelves around him, giving the impression this was what he’d been looking for all the time and to his relief found some cans of peas mixed in with the stewed tomato display. With a satisfied grunt, he busied himself restoring order while he considered how best to answer his landlady’s question. It took him awhile. She waited.