The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  “Well, Father, I went over to Mom’s in the morning—”

  “Yes, yes, so, what did you find?”

  “Well, as I was saying, I went over to Mom’s to start cleaning out her things—”

  “You’ve said that three times, go on.”

  “And, when I got into her bedroom, at the very end of sorting things out, I found her treasure chest.”

  “What is a treasure chest, Henry?”

  “Well, that’s what mom used to call it. It is a pine chest in which she stored things she considered treasures of the heart.”

  “I see, so, what did you find?” Father asked again, his voice a little edgy.

  “Well, I was just coming to that, if you wouldn’t interrupt me—”

  “Yes, yes, okay, I will just listen.”

  “Well, Father, as I took everything out of the box, at the very end I realized there was something missing. It was a pink envelope that I had remembered seeing that gave off a lilac flower scent. And then the thought occurred to me it might be in Mom’s apron because the day I found her and was praying over her I smelled lilacs. But, then I realized the ambulance attendants took Mom with her apron still on, back to the funeral home and threw it away, or so I thought!”

  “Henry, you are going on and on. Did you find the letter and is that what you want to tell me!?”

  “Man, are you impatient, Father and…I must admit I am taking advantage of it.”

  “Yes, I suspected as much.”

  “Well, Father, a miracle happened and Mom’s apron was left behind through Julean’s doing, but I won’t get into that…I found the letter! Father are you sitting down? It almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Ach, meine leiber Gott! Tell me, Henry!”

  “It was a letter to me from…Jenny.”

  There was a long silence on the phone. Father immediately knew it was the letter that Mary had confessed to him about just before she died. He could have shared Mary’s side to Henry but was sworn to secrecy. In any case Henry had probably figured out what happened. He would just listen and see where this goes.

  Father simply replied, “Oh, that Jenny.”

  “Yes, that Jenny, Father?”

  “Yes. So what do you know of this letter, Henry?

  For the next fifteen minutes, Henry explained how he had found it, why he thought his mother hadn’t given it him and that it proved that Jenny had still loved him. He also said what Father wanted to hear over all the rest, that he understood his mother’s reasons for not giving the letter to him, and that he had no animosity towards her whatsoever.

  “I just phoned Ottawa, Father, I’m trying to track Jenny down.”

  There was another long silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Henry? What if she has a family and—”

  “Yes, Father, I have thought about that. If I learn she has a family, I will stop trying to reach her. I just thought that maybe there might be the chance that she is still unattached. And remember what I told you when Julean was in the hospital and she came out of her coma? She too, at the time, encouraged me to seek Jenny out. Maybe there is something to this. In any case, it might be nice just to call as a friend to say, ‘hello.’”

  “It is possible she is single, Henry, but very unlikely.”

  “Don’t worry, Father, I will be very careful not to start something.”

  “Yes, I understand, Henry, but I am also concerned about you. I know how long you had waited for a letter from Jenny at that time, and how much you cared for her, but that was a long time ago and things have changed; people change, feelings change. For all we know, Jenny may not even remember you by now. Be careful, Henry. Don’t get your hopes up too high or begin something you may regret.”

  “I understand your concern, Father. Well, I am expecting a call from a lady who used to be Mr. Sarsky’s secretary back in the fifties. Hopefully she will know where things are at and maybe help me to bring some closure to all of this.”

  “Yes, perhaps.”

  “Well, I better get back to work, Father, thanks for listening.”

  “Yes, thank you, Henry, for sharing all this with me. I will keep you in my prayers.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  Elaine hung up the phone. Henry Pederson had contacted her former employer looking for information on Mr. Sarsky. She had never forgotten that name – the boy whose letters she destroyed in the furnace. It had always bothered her. Elaine wondered if Mr. Pederson’s call had anything to do with the two letters she had mailed? But that was at least 30 years ago. Elaine was about to forget the entire matter and resume her plan to take her dog for a walk, but something encouraged her to call him. Perhaps it might in some way absolve her of the wrongdoing.

  Elaine picked up the phone and dialed the number the personnel officer had given to her.

  “Henry’s Gift and Clothing Boutique.”

  “Is a Mr. Henry Pederson in?”

  “Just a moment, please, I will transfer you to his office.”

  “Hello, this is Henry.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Pederson. This is Elaine McIntyre calling from Ottawa. I was given your number to call. How may I help you?”

  Henry was at a loss for words. How should he start this conversation?

  “Thank you for phoning, Ms. McIntyre. I recently came across a letter in my mother’s keepsake chest after she passed away. The letter was from Jenny Sarsky. I understand you once worked for her father, Mr. Sarsky?”

  “Yes, that is correct.” Elaine replied. “You only just received the letter, now!?”

  “Yes. From what I’ve been able to figure out, the letter arrived shortly before my wedding and I believe that was why my mother held on to it. I was wondering, Ms. McIntyre, would you by chance know the whereabouts of Jennifer?”

  “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Pederson, I do not know where you might reach her. I did run into her and her mother a few years ago while shopping downtown. Jenny looked as beautiful as ever. She is married, you know, and at that time, anyway, she had one child. Her mother wasn’t in the best state of health and I recall she was living in a care home.”

  Henry was no longer listening. As soon as Elaine mentioned that Jenny was married and had a child, his heart sank. He had hoped against all hope that Jenny might still be free. Henry knew it was over. It would be unethical for him to interfere with her and her family’s life now.

  “Mr. Pederson, are you still there?”

  “Yes, I am still here.”

  “Mr. Pederson, there is something else I would like to tell you if you have another minute or so.”

  “Yes, I have time, Ms. McIntyre.”

  “Mr. Pederson, I want you to know that it was I who sent that special delivery letter off to you. In fact, there were two letters, one addressed to you, and the other I believe was one which you sent off to Jennifer. I discovered them in Mr. Sarsky’s wall safe just before he died and decided to send them off to their rightful recipients.”

  “So, it was you who sent the letters?”

  “Yes, it was me. I know what your next question is and I don’t have the answer. I don’t know why Mr. Sarsky didn’t send them off, but I do know it bothered him immensely.”

  “Did Jenny receive my letter?”

  “I don’t know. I sent it off to her home by special delivery, just as I sent the one Jenny wrote to you.”

  Jenny would have written me or gotten in touch with me if she had received the letter; I know I would have.

  Her letter had probably been intercepted, too. But then again, as he thought further on it, had his mother given him the letter, would he have really pursued it being so close to his wedding and how in love he was with Julean. Henry began to more fully appreciate the complexity of this entire matter and the decision his mother had made on his
behalf.

  “Ms. McIntyre, do you ever recall seeing a box full of letters addressed to Jenny? It was addressed to Mr. Sarsky because I didn’t have their home address. Did he ever give them to Jenny?”

  Elaine realized that the Lord had opened the door for her to confess what still weighed so heavily on her heart all those years.

  “Mr. Pederson, I have an awful confession to make to you, Mr. Sarsky instructed me to destroy that box full of letters. I had them destroyed in the incinerator in the basement of our office building…”

  Henry was shocked speechless by that revelation. It was as if a part of him suddenly died.

  After a long moment, Elaine continued, “If it’s any consolation, Mr. Sarsky was terribly troubled by it all. For some reason he wanted communication between you and his daughter to be stopped and I don’t know why. I simply did what I was instructed to do and it has bothered me to this day for carrying out that order.”

  “I understand,” said Henry, almost in a whisper. All his love letters, all his words of hope and love had never reached Jenny and had gone up in flames…

  “Thank you for sharing that with me, Ms. McIntyre, that was very kind and considerate of you.”

  “I’m ashamed to say this, Mr. Pederson, but there is a selfish motive behind telling you this. I just had to get it out. It’s something which has been heavy on my heart for a long time. I just hope the truth hasn’t hurt you too much.”

  Henry didn’t answer directly, he sensed she wanted forgiveness and he responded in kind, much the way Father would have. “It’s always good to know the truth, Ms. McIntyre. You did the right thing by telling me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pederson.” The relief in her voice was very evident. “I wish you all the best.”

  “Yes, thank you, again, for calling and sharing. Good-bye.”

  Henry now knew the truth. It should have given him some measure of closure and freedom, but it didn’t. He was still trapped with such a deep love in his heart for Jenny that he couldn’t release. All he had was memories. He knew in his heart that if Jenny had received his letters things would have been very different.

  The discovery of the letter had revealed just how deeply he still was in love with Jenny. He so wanted to hold her, to give and receive her love, as well. Instead, he seemed to be doomed to this emptiness inside, this horrible lack of complete closure and fulfillment.

  Could he suppress all these feelings again and hope time will heal as before? Deep down though Henry knew that even time had lied to him and led him to believe it was over. It was clear however, the torch for Jenny had always been there in his heart, smouldering in the depths of his being like some dormant volcano ready to erupt.

  What pained his heart even more was that his dear sweet Julean had to live with this for all the years of their marriage. That Julean had been the one to tell him that he hadn’t healed as well as he’d thought. That she knew he still loved another. He recalled the words she spoke at the hospital that memorable day… “You shared your love when your defences were down…your dreams revealed her to me. The eve of our wedding after we made love, I will never forget your dream that followed. I tried to wake you, but you were making love to Jenny in your dreams.”

  Henry remembered that night all too well and the guilt he felt for days after for having such a dream and those that followed.

  Henry shook his head and muttered, “Was it all for naught? Was Julean’s painful endurance in vain? Was my longing and yearning for all these years to come down to this…that it was nothing more than a memory and will always continue to be?”

  The hum of the fluorescent fixture above him penetrated the still silence. There was no silence however in Henry’s mind; it was churning, examining every detail of his conversation with Ms. McIntyre searching for any clue he might still pursue. She did mention that Jenny’s mother was living in a care home. He could call every one in Ottawa and assuming that Mrs. Sarsky was still alive he may track down Jenny that way.

  But, no, to what end?

  She was married.

  It was not the right thing to do and he had also promised Father Engelmann he wouldn’t take it any further.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Jenny hemmed and hawed for two days before deciding to phone her son. Just thinking about it made her nervous all day. The clock on the bedside table read 8:00 p.m. Since they were an hour ahead in Ottawa, she assumed J.J. would be home from work by now. If he was like James, a fourteen hour day would be normal. She picked up the phone and her trembling finger dialed the number. She listened with immense trepidation as the phone rang.

  “Hello?” answered a female voice. Nora, J.J.’s wife. Would she still recognize her?

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  “Hi, is this Nora?”

  “Yes, who is speaking?”

  “It’s me, Jenny.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s Jenny, J.J.’s mother.”

  “Oh, Marjorie Hamilton.”

  “Yes, it’s Marjorie. I still go by my second name. Everyone calls me Jenny.”

  “I can call you, Jenny, if you prefer.”

  “That would be very nice, Nora. How is my grandson doing?”

  “He is fine. He’s sits up and is making attempts to walk. Oh they grow so fast.”

  “I would love to see him. Your mom and dad must be so proud of him.”

  “Yes, they are over all the time. Dad’s planning an early retirement just so he can spend more time with him.”

  “Oh, that is so nice to hear, Nora. Do you think you and J.J. and my little grandson can come to Regina for a visit, soon?”

  “Well, I don’t know Marj—I mean Jenny. J.J. is so busy, I hardly ever see him. He is going to start taking over part of the company and he and his father are spending a lot of time together, making sure they are both on track. Well, you know how it is in business.”

  Jenny didn’t answer. She knew only too well. It looked like a similar pattern was occurring in Nora’s life as had occurred in hers. Memories of the spousal agreement she signed stabbed into her mind. Jenny wondered if she should alert Nora, but it was probably too late.

  “Are you still there, Jenny?”

  “Oh yes, Nora, I’m sorry. Is J.J. at home?”

  “No, he isn’t, but I do expect him any time now. It’s almost nine-thirty, and he is usually home between nine and ten. How are you finding Regina?”

  “I love it, here. It’s a much smaller city than Ottawa, but the legislature buildings remind me of Ottawa, so it does feel a little like home.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Yes, and I have made a lot of friends and I love my house and neighbourhood.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.” Nora repeated.

  “I would sure like to see my grandson,” Jenny said again, trying to extend the conversation. “So do you call him James the Third or do you have a nickname?” Jenny was curious.

  “We call him Jimmy. J.J.’s dad said that would be best until he gets older and then wants to refer to him as James the third. It sounds odd, but I guess we can get used to it.”

  Jenny recalled only too well, James preferences and control over others names. Jenny still shivered each time James referred to her as Marjorie.

  “Anyway, Jenny, I think I had written Jimmy on the birth announcement. And actually when it’s in print, James 3rd looks quite impressive.”

  “Oh, I don’t recall receiving one, Nora.”

  “I’m sure I asked J.J. to mail them. I wrote them out in the hospital while I was there. I had a few complications and had to stay in for almost two weeks.”

  Jenny was silent for a brief moment. She wondered if J.J. purposefully didn’t send her an announcement.

  “It must have gotten lost. In any case, I would love to see him.”

  “Perhaps you c
ould come to Ottawa for a visit.”

  “I would love to, Nora, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”

  “Well, perhaps next month.”

  “I’m not sure if I can come then, either.”

  “You must be very busy.”

  “Well, not really it’s just that I…am in the hospital right now.”

  “Oh, no, I’m so sorry to hear. What is the problem?”

  “Well, I don’t mean to alarm you or J.J., but I have cancer.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad, Jenny, I hope everything turns out okay.”

  “So do I.” Jenny’s pillow called to her and she had to hold the receiver with two hands so she wouldn’t drop it.

  “Could you tell J.J.? And ask him to call me when he gets home? Or in the morning is fine, too.” Jenny gave Nora the phone number to her room.

  “Well, I better get to bed, I need my beauty sleep,” Jenny said, with a tired chuckle.

  “Well, I do hope you are feeling better, soon.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

  “Oh, Jenny, I think J.J. just came in. I heard the garage door close. Just a moment please.”

  Jenny’s heart sank. She was hoping he would call later, fatigue and nervousness swarmed over her; she needed rest badly. Loud voices and unpleasant tones carried to the phone. Nora and J.J. were arguing and Jenny was able to make out parts of it. “It’s your mother J.J., …you have to talk to her…”

  “She’s not my mother anymore…”

  The words stabbed at Jenny’s heart like a knife.

  “Oh, J.J., please don’t do this to me. I really didn’t do anything wrong,” Jenny whispered into the phone.

  Finally, Jenny heard the phone move and clang on the counter.

  “Hello, Marj.”

  He sounded just like James.

  “Yes, it’s me, Mom.”

  “So, why the call?”

  “Well, I wanted to see how my grandson is and I wanted to talk to you. It’s been over a year and—”

  “Well, you know how busy we are, the company is growing so fast, Dad and I hardly get time to sleep.”