Chapter Five
Father was very concerned about Henry after he hung up the phone. He rushed back to the chapel. The residents were deep in prayer when he returned. They were seated in a semi-circle around the front of the altar. Father felt like a teacher with a group of elementary school children before him. They were all so obedient, so kind, so polite, so childlike, and so eager to help.
‘Unless you become like a child, you will not be able to enter the kingdom of heaven,’ flashed into Father’s mind, as he gazed at the class before him.
Father had just been ready to give the final blessing before he was interrupted by Henry’s call. He decided to tell his flock of the urgent need to pray for a special healing. He began by sharing the incredible story about Henry and Jenny. How they met when they were young, how they were separated and kept apart; how their love letters to each other were kept from them time after time and destroyed. Yet despite others’ efforts to keep them apart, despite the passage of time and even their marriage to other mates, still, in the recesses of their hearts was a first love that just would not fade away.
Then, Father shared the almost unbelievable angelic occurrence of how Henry recently bought a house which included all of the belongings and furniture of the previous owner. And, how over the past few months he began to discover that he actually bought his sweetheart’s home. He told them about Henry’s evidence that confirmed that the lady he bought the house from was really his childhood sweetheart, his first love.
Unfortunately, she was now in the hospital dying of cancer. Henry was rushing over to see her and he just called to ask them to pray to keep her alive. He so much wanted to see her.
Father also told them of Jenny’s desire and wish that she be kissed by Henry before she died. How fervently she prayed to her guardian angel to grant her this last wish. He told them that he had known of her prayer for weeks, but didn’t know until today that the lady he had been visiting was Henry’s teenage sweetheart. Father’s voice pled with the Lord as he told his brothers and sisters in Christ the incredible narrative.
There wasn’t one of them that weren’t moved after Father finished his story. It was like a fairy tale that deeply touched the hearts and minds of everyone in the room. It made them recall their first love, their affairs, their lovers, and thoughts which some of them still entertained. Father knew that their age was no detriment to their understanding of passion and the yearnings of love. What was inside was as real and as alive and as young as the day they were born.
Romance and passion is timeless, ageless. He saw it in their eyes.
Many cried; some were angry that Jenny’s parents had destroyed the letters and over the various circumstances that kept them apart. And everyone was amazed at how, in the end, they were brought back together in this inconceivable way, guided by their guardian angels.
When Father summoned them to pray for a miracle to keep Jenny alive, they all took this task seriously and began to pray with a fervour Father had never witnessed before. Henry could not have asked for a more seasoned group to pray for him and his beloved. They were not timorous or novices in this business with the Lord. Their faith was like tinder ever ready to be inflamed with spiritual power. Father knew the kindling his warriors were made of and the childlike faith they possessed, completely devoid of doubt. And no sooner had he begun to fire them up with the Lord’s words than their faith began to smolder.
A holy fragrance like incense lifted and infused the air.
“Oh, Lord,” Father prayed. “What things so ever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them. We lift our sister, Jenny, up to you and thank you for restoring her body.”
“Yes, yes, we thank You, Lord,” many of the residents chimed in.
“In Matthew 9:29 we are assured that nothing shall be impossible unto you—”
“Yes, Lord, You alone are all powerful—”
“And Mark 9:23 confirms that if thou canst believe, nothing shall be impossible unto you.”
“Yes, Yahweh. Hallelujah, Lord,” they rejoiced. “We thank you for healing our sister, Jenny.” Many were already praising in tongues and lifting their arms.
“We know that according to your faith it will be done unto you,” Father continued. “Our faith is complete, we trust in Your word—”
“Praise you, Jesus. We thank You, Jesus,” Edith chimed in. “You have come to give us life and give it abundantly. We claim your promises—”
“Where two or three are gathered in Your name You shall be amongst us. We feel Your presence.”
“Hallelujah…”
“And John 15:7 says, “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.”
With each Scripture Father and the various members quoted, the spiritual power inherent within the words infused their spirits, taking possession of their very essence. The powerful force in their exuding faith was palpable; the air vibrated between them.
But it was the words of Mark 11:22-23 that brought them all to their feet.
“Verily, I say unto you,” Father boldly commanded, “Whosoever shall say unto this mountain, be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass, he shall have whatsoever he saith!”
The response from his warriors was instant and wholeheartedly resounding. The hurricane of praise, singing, and rejoicing was deafening. It threatened to lift the very roof off the chapel!
Chapter Six
Angie looked up at the monitor and then at Peter. She held his hand as he laboriously breathed his last breaths. His two children, mother and several friends were circled around the bed. The doctor said Peter was in the dying moments of his life…a matter of minutes. Several of his organs had already shut down and a bluish tinge covered his once robust ruddy skin.
“Angelika where are you…? Peter uttered as his hand searched for his dear wife’s hand.
Angie immediately clutched his, “I am here, Peter. You haven’t called me by my full name in a long time.”
“I have always loved your name. You have always been an angel to me…so accepting of my faults.”
“You are too hard on yourself, Peter. There is no other man that could have made my life more complete. And, yes, I do like it when you call me by my Christian name rather than the way my friends have shortened it.”
Peter squeezed Angie’s hand and squirmed painfully more of a guilt ridden conscience than of the physical body. He began to mutter…
Angie strained to hear his last words.
“Forgive me, Jenny, for what I did. I pray you find our daughter and she forgives me too…Oh, Father, I have sinned so grievously…”
“Peter, the Lord has forgiven you. You above all people should know the Lord’s compassion and endless mercy. A sincere repentant heart is always heard by the Father. He erases our transgressions and forgets these sins. They will never be used in our final judgment.”
Tears emerged from Peter’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “…it was good for the Lord to let me see my daughter. I know it is Camilla, Henry’s daughter-in-law. It eases the pain in my heart when Henry told you that Camilla thinks she was adopted. My heart and soul told me that it was so even though she claimed other parents…”
His blood pressure was falling. The monitor recording his heart beat was faltering…a steady line showed, but then a blip and then another. Peter strained to utter what could be his final words…
“Angelika, it is right for you and the children to know Camilla and include her in our family. She has the right to know her father and step-family…thank you for accepting my past and the child that I fathered…without you and your love I would have died a long time ago…”
The blip on the monitor fell and a steady line ran across the screen…then a blip came back. It was hopeful for but a moment…
Chapter Seven
Oh, jenny, plea
se hang on,” Henry repeated as he ran towards the emergency entrance of the Grey Nuns’ Hospital. His heart was thumping, ready to burst.
The doors automatically opened and he ran through them into the large, open lobby. Immediately, off to his left, was the admittance office. He knew he would have to go there first as he didn’t have a clue where intensive care was or even if Jenny was still alive. The lady at the desk looked up at him as he anxiously asked what room Jenny Hamilton was in. She quickly scanned the sheets in front of her as she ran her finger down the list.
“I don’t seem to have a Jenny Hamilton, but I do see a Marjorie Hamilton was admitted this morning.”
“Yes, yes, that’s it! What is the number?”
“She is in palliative care, unit Five West, room 505. Take the elevator at the end of the hall. Here, I will write it on a slip of paper for you.” She picked up a pen and began to write the number, but Henry was long gone, already at the elevator, mashing the button.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors opened and he dashed inside. He didn’t realize when he stepped into the elevator it was going down and so instead of taking him up towards Jenny’s room, he descended towards the morgue and file storage in the lower level.
“For God’s sake, I hope this isn’t an omen of where Jenny is!” Henry muttered as he repeatedly pressed five. Finally, it started to go up and climbed non-stop to Jenny’s floor.
Henry stepped into the foyer and looked for direction. A large sign on the wall in front of him read:
PLEASE REPORT TO THE RECEPTIONIST DESK BEFORE VISITING ANY PATIENT ON THIS FLOOR.
Just below and off to his right were two other signs. Rooms 501-505 was on one of the signs and pointed to the left. He didn’t bother reading the other sign. He turned down the hallway and ran straight ahead towards the nurse’s station.
“Uh, oh. How do I get past this one?”
As he approached the station, he didn’t see anyone. He could use that as an excuse and go directly to Jenny’s room. He rushed past the station to room 505 near the end of the hallway to his right.
His heart raced in anticipation, in addition to exertion. This was the moment he had waited for, for so long. He only wished it weren’t under these circumstances. A mixture of emotions— fear, anxiety, excitement, wonder, exhilaration— swept through as he stood at the door. Would she even recognize him? He had changed, lost most of his hair…probably looked so ragged…
For Pete’s sake, just go in!
Henry inhaled deeply and as he was about to enter, a nurse emerged from room 504 across the hall and saw him.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, as she reached his side. “I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to go in there. Did you check in at the nurse’s station?”
“Nobody was there and since I knew the number to Jenny Hamilton’s room, I thought I would let myself in.”
“Are you a relative of Ms. Hamilton?”
“No, I am not, but I am a very close friend. In fact, I once was her boyfriend,” Henry added, thinking that would bear more weight.
He was wrong.
The nurse studied him for a moment and then said, “Would you please come with me to the counter?”
“But, I have to see Jenny before it’s too late.” Henry pleaded.
“Only her husband or immediate family is allowed to go in there. Please come with me.”
The nurse turned and walked to the station. Reluctantly, Henry followed. Once there, the nurse took out a form from atop of her desk and a pen from her pocket. “What is your name, please?”
“It’s Henry…Henry Pederson.”
“And you say you are her boyfriend?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” he answered abruptly. Here Jenny was dying in room 505 and he was being interrogated with these mundane questions.
“Please, nurse,” he gasped, “I must see Jenny. How is she? Will she make it through the day?” He stared at her with a look of pleading and grave concern on his face.
“As I said, Mr. Pederson, only her husband or relatives are allowed.”
“But, I bought her house and I now know who she is…”
“I’m sorry, but rules are rules. They are for the benefit of the patient.”
“But, you don’t understand, I am her boyfriend, we probably should have been married…”
Henry wasn’t thinking clearly anymore and he could tell by the look on the nurse’s face that what he was saying didn’t make any sense. Time was wasting and he really didn’t want to get into the whole scenario of buying her house and discovering Jenny’s diary and so on, so he kept emphasizing that he was her friend and possible boyfriend.
“What do you mean possible boyfriend? Are you or are you not?”
Frustration and anger were pushing at the urgent feelings swarming inside of him. Jenny was dying and here he was caught amongst hospital rules and regulations and he didn’t know how to quickly resolve it all and get to Jenny’s room.
“Look, I bought Ms. Hamilton’s house and she turned out to be the same person who was my girlfriend over thirty years ago and I know she is critically ill and I have to see her…can’t you understand?”
“Thirty years ago!” she said in disbelief.
“That’s right. There isn’t time to explain it all to you. I know this sounds ridiculous, but this is just one of those rare circumstances in life.”
Just then, an older, more mature nurse walked into the station. She wore a different coloured hat and Henry noticed that in addition to her name, Nurse Johnson, her name tag also identified her as the supervisor.
“What’s going on here, Elsie? Is there a problem?”
Elsie motioned the head nurse to the side. Henry could hear them whispering back and forth and every now and then Nurse Johnson would look up at him. Finally, the head nurse gazed at Henry and gave him one of those analyzing, dissecting stares and walked over to him. The expression she wore appeared understanding and hopefully…relenting.
“You’re Mr. Pederson, the artist, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied, looking somewhat embarrassed in the position he found himself in. Yet, he was relieved in a sense that his notoriety might be helpful in this case.
“I’ve been into your shop many times and I just love it there.”
“Thank you,” Henry said, and instantly got the conversation back to the urgency of the matter at hand. “Could you please make an exception in this case, Ms. Johnson?” Henry asked more personally, hoping that might carry some weight. “I know this all sounds so strange, but I just have to see Jenny.”
“You mean, Marjorie?”
“Yes, Marjorie, Jenny, they are both the same person!”
“Are you related to a Camilla Pederson?”
Now what? What on earth does my family history have to do with this? Time is wasting.
“Yes, yes, she is my daughter-in-law.” Henry blurted, revealing his impatience.
“Well, she came in minutes before you did claiming that she just learned that Ms. Hamilton is her birth mother and had to see her, as well.”
“What!?” Henry’s expression changed from frustration and pleading, to puzzlement, then wonderment. He recalled his conversation with Father Engelmann earlier when they contemplated such a remote possibility. This entire matter was getting crazier and more unbelievable by the minute.
Nurse Johnson looked at her colleague and said something which not only interrupted Henry’s thoughts, but got his immediate attention.
“His first name seems to fit the letter, as well.”
“What name? What letter?”
“Well, when Ms. Hamilton came in this morning, she refused all medication and life support, all she requested was that I read a letter to her. It was a lovely letter and it was signed by a ‘Henry.’ She studied Henry, her expression asking for a response.
“Yes, yes, that’s me. It was a letter I sent to her just before Christmas in 1956, along with a pewter angel.”
“That’s right! The entire time I was reading the letter she was squeezing a metal angel at the end of a chain around her neck—”
“Don’t you see, I just have to see her? Please, may I go in?”
“Follow me.”
Nurse Johnson turned and led Henry to Jenny’s room. She turned into room 505 and held the door open for Henry. His racing heart threatened to choke him. He reached up with his hand and brushed the few hairs on his head to straighten them. Of all times to be concerned about his appearance; he knew he looked wilted.
Would he recognize his Jenny?
As his eyes adjusted to the soft lighting, a tiny figure outlined the sheets on the bed. There were no tubes coming in or out of her body. The blue bandana she was wearing had slipped off her head revealing sparse golden wheat hair. The blue bandana immediately triggered a memory. He had seen a similar one before…yes, the person being wheeled out of the care home on a gurney by ambulance attendants the day he brought Father Engelmann to the Nunnery. He had touched the person’s hand as the stretcher went by and had felt such a surge of electricity flow through his body. He had often wished he would have taken a closer look at who that person was. He wondered now if…
Henry stared at his beloved. There was no mistaking it…
It was Jenny.
She appeared in perfect peace and calm, just waiting for her Maker to come and take her home.
Henry’s heart immediately went out to her—
“Dad, you came too!?” asked Camilla, as she got up from a chair near the side of Jenny’s bed.
Henry was so focused on seeing Jenny, he had forgotten that his daughter-in-law was also in the room.
“Oh my God, Camilla, is…is Jenny really your birth mother?”
Camilla nodded, tears in her eyes. “Yes…she is my mother. I just found out yesterday.”
Henry heard part of what she said, but his mind could not cope with that issue at this time. He was immediately drawn back to Jenny and overtaken by the sight of her.
Angel Promises Fulfilled Page 4