The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  “Well that’s just it. Camilla has also felt for as long as she can remember that she was adopted.”

  Henry had those same feelings and still does. Could it be possible that his intuition was right after all? Henry just stared at his son and nodded for him to go on.

  “She is even having these dreams of a stork delivering a baby to some woman sitting in a gazebo surrounded by wildflowers. Camilla thinks she is the baby being carried by the stork to her real biological mother…”

  “Really?” Henry didn’t know what to say and Jeremy continued.

  “I think it all has to do with her mother reading a book to her about a stork delivering babies. And lately it’s an angel delivering the baby instead of the stork…but I don’t want to get into that—”

  “But how do I fit into this?” Henry wanted to know.

  “You’re not going to believe this, Dad. Camilla and me have argued over this but I think she is okay with it now. Grandma kind of straightened it out. Anyway, Camilla thought that maybe your teenage girlfriend that Camilla reminds you of is her mother…”

  Those were Henry’s thoughts for the longest time. Henry shook his head from side to side…

  Jeremy grew agitated by his father’s silence. “Geez, Dad, is it true? You didn’t make that girl pregnant, did you?”

  Henry’s face turned red. “No Jeremy, of course not…”

  Henry didn’t know what else to say. He had always thought that Peter had raped Jenny and fathered a child but he couldn’t say that to his son! It was all an assumption that wasn’t based on any facts. And surely he couldn’t even suggest such a thing to his son. The consequences could be devastating to Camilla.

  “Of course not,” Henry repeated more emphatically. “I think this is all some coincidence that Camilla happens to look like the young girl I dated at that time.”

  “That’s what I think, too! But she won’t listen to me. And now she thinks that her dad has some papers in his strong box that will reveal that she was adopted. We brought the metal box home after Stan died and have it stored in the basement but Camilla is afraid to look for some reason and won’t let me either. It’s all so weird.”

  “Look Son, since she was born and raised in Ottawa, tell her to contact Social Services there and talk to someone in the adoption department to see if her suspicions have any validity. Camilla has been involved with that kind of thing for several years working with pregnant girls. She shouldn’t have any trouble sourcing it all out. It seems to me she is creating all these different scenarios in her mind that may have no truth whatsoever.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly right!” Jeremy exclaimed and then said, “There’s another thing, Dad. Do you remember at Father Engelmann’s anniversary party there was a guy there named Peter? I don’t know his last name, but he was Eddy’s best man at their wedding that morning…”

  Once again Henry turned red…

  This is incredible.

  Jeremy stared at Henry for a moment and was going to ask what was wrong, but decided to say instead, “Camilla dreams of that man too, Dad. She doesn’t know why, and that day at the party she saw you and Peter talking to one another and then saw the both of you staring at her…she wonders why?”

  Once again, Henry felt cornered. He could never tell his son that Peter dreams of Camilla too and that Peter feels he raped Jenny, who Camilla thinks is her birth mother! My God, this is getting out of hand. What is going on here?

  Jeremy stared at his father waiting for an answer. Once more he grew concerned over his silence.

  “I was just trying to think back, Jeremy. I think we were talking of our children and I told Peter that Camilla was not my daughter but my daughter-in-law…” Henry shrugged his shoulders as if to say, that’s all he could think of.

  “Well, maybe I’ll suggest to Camilla to check with the agency in Ottawa and hope that I can convince her to look in her father’s metal box. This is affecting our relationship and it’s got to be resolved.”

  “Would you like me to talk to her, Son?’

  Jeremy gazed at his father for a moment, “No, let’s see where this leads to. Maybe the agency can clear things up once and for all.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  This is becoming a habit, Father. This is the second time I’ve helped you move in almost twenty five years.”

  “I know. It must be a considerable burden on you, Henry,” Father Engelmann quipped back. Henry and Father stared at each other and chuckled.

  “Just wait here for a moment; there is a book in the study which I want to take with me. I’ll just be a moment.”

  “Oh, that’s fine, Father, take your time.”

  As Henry stood in the foyer he stared at the suitcase before him. It was the same one he had carried to the car for Mr. Engelmann after he had sold his grocery store and decided to become a priest. All of his worldly possessions: his Bible, the holy cross which hung in their bedroom, and his wedding suit, were in that suitcase.

  Henry smiled at the thought. From a worldly point of view, one would say he really wasn’t very successful. That he didn’t have a lot to show for all these years. Most people amass a small or large fortune during that time and yet, Mr. Engelmann, or rather, Father Engelmann, still carried the same old suitcase with the same contents it had held twenty five years before.

  But, what Father had gained over the years had made him perhaps the richest man in the world. He had freed himself from the pursuit of materialism and devoted his life to seeking and gaining the treasures the Lord gives to those who follow him. His sermon last Sunday was on that very topic. Wow, what a homily. It was his last message to his flock and still reverberated in his mind. One of the scriptural passages he quoted stung his heart: “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers the loss of his soul in the process.”

  Henry had such a good teacher in Father, such a good example to emulate and still he struggled and toiled excessively in making monetary gain his chief goal. His worth, his value as a person, his success all seemed to be so inextricably tied up with what he owned and achieved.

  Will he ever be able to really let go, become detached, content and make the Lord the first and sole centre of his life?

  Well, Father Engelmann certainly didn’t have two masters. He was living proof of one who had placed Jesus at the centre of his life.

  Henry still couldn’t believe that Father was actually retiring. After a lifetime with Anna and the grocery store and another lifetime dedicated to the Lord’s service, it was time for Father to finally step down.

  But was he really retiring?

  He might have freed himself from most of his parish responsibilities, but almost daily he seemed to be expanding his outreach to another flock.

  Wherever he felt there was a need, Father worked tirelessly to fill it. He visited all the hospitals and care homes. One would have thought he’d be exhausted, and would need to slow down and take more time to rest. Amazingly however, the more he gave of himself, the younger he grew, the more energy he received to do God’s work. Henry still didn’t know exactly how old Father was in years. He was getting up there, yet he looked in his seventies, and behaved like he was in his forties.

  Henry was still amazed over the events that had led to Father’s decision to retire. He could still picture Father Knuka standing there before the congregation waiting for the Lord to touch him in a special way and He did; Father Knuka was given the gift of tongues and filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.

  It was shortly after that incredible happening, which many of the people considered a miracle, that Father Engelmann began to talk about leaving. It was the sign he had been waiting for; the church was in good hands and could be entrusted to the young priest.

  Henry wondered what was keeping, Father. He turned and looked through the window out onto the front yard of the rectory. The long side
walk leading up to the rectory made Henry think of the path Father would now follow. He recalled thinking those same thoughts when he dropped Father off so long ago. Henry knew Father would never retire from doing the Lord’s work. The path before him would simply lead to another journey the Lord had prepared for him. Henry suspected the Lord had already shown Father what his next project was.

  After a few more moments, he heard Father approaching from the end of the hall, whistling his favourite melody, ‘His Peace is Flowing Like a River.’

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Henry,” Father said as he stepped into the light of the foyer. “I went to see the cook to remind her that I wouldn’t be here for supper, tonight, and…well, you know how hard it is to say good-bye.”

  “That’s fine, Father. Are you ready to go?”

  “I’m always ready to do the Lord’s work, Henry.”

  Henry picked up Father’s suitcase and made his way to the door. It seemed lighter than before, and by the sounds of it, all that was inside were his Bible and the cross.

  “Boy, this gets lighter all the time, Father.”

  “It may not seem like much, but it contains all the wisdom in the world.” Father winked at Henry and smiled. “When the movers moved my bed to the care home the other day, I sent my priestly clothes and my wedding suit along with them.”

  Henry smiled. He had guessed accurately the contents of the suitcase. It was lighter because his suit was missing. It reminded Henry of the first time he saw Father Engelmann wearing his wedding suit. It was at Mrs. Engelmann’s funeral. Everyone expected to see Mr. Engelmann in a mournful state. Much to everyone’s surprise, however, Mr. Engelmann wore both the attire and an expression that was more appropriate for a wedding than a funeral. His light tan suit with the bright yellow geranium in his lapel and his smile, contrasted with the congregants who were dressed in traditional black and saddened faces.

  A feeling of uneasiness swept through Henry as he continued to think of Mr. Engelmann’s suit as they walked to the SUV.

  It wasn’t the death of Anna that gnawed inside Henry’s stomach, rather it was the unforgettable memory of the prince charming dream he had the day he met Jenny when he fell asleep before taking her to Balfour Collegiate. He had often wondered if the man wearing the yellow suit and yellow flower in his lapel lying on the bed of daisies where Jenny had lain was Mr. Engelmann, especially now that Mr. Engelmann was older and looked so much more like the man in his dream. The thought of the faceless man wearing a black cloak who held him back from getting to Jenny and the man in the tan suit, sent quivering coldness down his spine just as it had done back then. Henry was relieved as the clink of Father Engelmann’s seat belt buckle snapped him out of his reverie.

  “What is wrong Henry, you look flushed and feverish?”

  Henry wiped the perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand and shook his head. “Oh, it’s nothing Father.” Henry forced a smile.

  Father studied Henry for a moment longer then turned and gazed once more at the rectory, “this has been a very good second home and now I am going to my third and…perhaps last.”

  Henry knew that last day would come, and preferred not to think on it. He fired up the engine.

  Neither of them spoke as they drove to Father’s new home, both absorbed in their own thoughts. When Father had first talked about leaving the parish, he had considered the option to go back to Gravelbourg and retire at the seminary or at one of the fine retreat centres on the west coast, but Father declined to go to either. He saw more beauty in reaching out to people in need than mountain scenery or living a secluded life in a seminary.

  He had also considered going into a senior high-rise, which housed about hundred people or so. In the end however, the Archbishop knew Father would consider them all his flock and be just as busy as he had been in the parish, if not more. He convinced Father it would be too much for him. Reluctantly, Father agreed to a smaller facility.

  An ambulance was parked in front of the Nunnery Care Home as Henry pulled up behind. Someone was either checking in or out, Henry thought.

  “Well, here we are, Father, your new home.”

  Father was gazing at the ambulance, his lips moving in prayer… “Ah, yes, here it is my new home…”

  Like the rectory, The Nunnery Care Home had a brick veneer and sprawled across two city lots. There were no windows facing the street and the oak door was devoid of windows, as well. It was almost like a fortress, shutting out the world outside. A long walkway led up to the door. In a sense, the similarity cushioned Father’s transition into his retirement home.

  As they walked up the walkway to the front door, it suddenly opened. An ambulance attendant was backing out guiding a gurney. An attendant was at the other end. Henry grabbed the door and held it open. As the gurney passed through the door it bumped into the door frame wobbling it. Henry instinctively reached out to steady it and in doing so touched the patient’s arm. Instantly, an indescribable energy surged through him. He turned and looked at the patient, but all he saw was the back of the patients head wearing a blue bandana.

  “My good Lord, what was that?” Henry muttered, the energy still zinging through him.

  “Are you okay, Henry? You look so pale and white again…”

  “Oh, … I’m fine Father.”

  Henry continued to stare at the attendants loading the patient into the back. He felt a strong compulsion to go to the patient. He let go of the door and when it slammed shut the sound snapped him back to the reality of the moment. He watched as the ambulance sped down the street, then slowly turned and rang the doorbell.

  As they waited for an attendant to answer the door, Henry reviewed in his mind the reasons Father had selected this care home. First, it was near a Catholic church where he could attend mass if he wanted to. But more importantly, the care home at one time had been a convent. It was occupied by the Sisters of the Precious Blood. As time went on, fewer and fewer nuns were recruited and the ones there, were getting on in age, and were sent back to the Mother House in Ontario.

  Father must have been reading Henry’s thoughts…

  “I would like you to see the chapel before you leave, Henry. It is one of the main reasons I selected this care home. I hope they will allow me to say daily mass.”

  The door opened and a young girl peeked out.

  “Oh, you must be Father Engelmann, our new resident.”

  “Yes, that’s me. I’m here to make my new home.”

  “Well, please come in, Father, my name is Angela.”

  “Your mom and dad must have thought they gave birth to an angel to name you that.”

  “Maybe so, Father, but my yelling and screaming soon made them realize otherwise.”

  They all laughed.

  “This is Henry, Angela, I consider him my son. He is helping me make this move, today.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. It’s good to have some support when starting something new. But I assure you, Father, you will quickly feel at home, here.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure I will.”

  “Please follow me, I will show you to your room.”

  “I think I still remember where it is. I looked at it about three weeks ago.”

  They walked down the long hall which was flooded with light from a huge inner courtyard. All of the bedrooms lay around the perimeter of the care home with a large window facing the hallway to receive the light as well as the beautiful view of the flower-filled courtyard. The rooms also had a small narrow window facing the outside, but it was more for ventilation and didn’t interfere with their privacy. The doors to most rooms were open and occupants just stared with a blank look as they walked by, probably wondering what a priest was doing there.

  They turned at the end of the hallway and passed the kitchen, bright and sunny, as it too faced the courtyard. They stopped and briefly looked at the huge tabl
e.

  “The table of the Lord,” Father muttered under his breath, “I shall soon meet my flock.”

  When Father Engelmann turned towards her, Angela took that as her cue to continue on.

  “Well, here it is,” said Angela, as she stopped, turned, and with the same motion swung her right arm towards the open door to Father’s room. Father passed by her first then Henry followed. Henry didn’t tell Father that he had already been to this room. He had stopped by two days earlier to hang a painting.

  It was a fairly large room, with a single bed against the far wall. A night table with a lamp, which was turned on, stood next to the bed. It gave off a nice warm yellow glow and provided a welcoming atmosphere. Father’s chair sat next to the table and lamp. The window just behind the chair was larger than the ones in the other rooms and faced south. That was another reason why Father liked this care home.

  Father hadn’t noticed his special surprise yet, as they studied another painting Henry had given him shortly after he moved into the rectory. It was a prairie landscape with a full crop swaying in the summer sun. It was ripe and golden and ready to be harvested. In the mid-ground was the town of Lipton with its three grain elevators, several homes and buildings, and the town church just off a bit at the edge of the town. The care home must have hung it after Henry had brought in the other painting.

  The landscape painting hung above a chest of drawers, covered with a long table cloth which Henry surmised Anna had crocheted. On top, sat a single, framed picture of Father Engelmann and Anna on their wedding day. There was no television set, no radio. Henry knew as soon as he left, Father would immediately have his Bible out of the suitcase and onto the night table beside his chair.

  “Well, Father, you should be very comfortable, here.”

  “I feel like I am in the Hotel Saskatchewan, spoiled already.” Father turned towards Angela to thank her for showing him to his room, but she was no longer there. It was then that he noticed the other painting on the wall across from his chair.