The Angelic Occurrence

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  There was a long silence before Camilla spoke, “Yes, Father it is so sad…”

  Camilla shook her head and wanted to continue that discussion but thought she better get to the reason for her wanting to see Father.

  “Father, I am here on a confidential nature…” Camilla studied Father, and he nodded,

  “Of course, Camilla, please go on.”

  “This may seem like an odd question to ask, but do you recall the name of the young girl that Jeremy’s dad, or rather Henry, my father-in-law went out with way back when he was fifteen years old?”

  The furrows in Father’s brow deepened. He studied the young lady next to him and wondered where this was leading.

  “Yes, her name was Jenny…”

  Camilla sat on the edge of her seat waiting…

  “And her last name was…?”

  Father continued to study Camilla. He knew Jenny’s last name, how could he forget? How hard he and Henry tried to get Mr. Sarsky to give Henry’s letters to his daughter. Why would Camilla want to know the name of Henry’s girlfriend all those years ago?

  “Yes, her name was Jenny Sarsky.”

  No sooner had the words left Father’s lips than an arrow pierced her heart.

  Henry was her father!

  “Camilla, what is wrong?” Father leaned forward and took hold of her hand. “You look so troubled…what meaning does the name hold for you?”

  Oh, what could Father do other than be totally upset if I told him that Henry was my father and that Jeremy was my half brother, thought Camilla? There wasn’t anything Father, or anyone could do for that matter. What was done was done…but, but what about Peter? Why does his name keep coming up.”

  Tears were in Camilla’s eyes as she asked the next question, “Does Henry have a friend named, Peter?”

  Father imperceptibly shook his head, where on earth is this going? The only Peter he knows is Eddy’s friend who was also one of the boys that took Jenny to the park that night. It was never established what really happened. Surely he could not relate such unsubstantiated information to Camilla.

  “Yes, Camilla, the only Peter I know is the one who came to my anniversary. He was Eddy’s best man and as I understand it Henry did meet him as well and so I suppose in that sense, Peter is Henry’s friend. Why do you ask, Camilla”

  Camilla was finding it harder and harder to sit still. The thought that Henry was her father had her so anxiety filled, she had to leave. Perhaps she should speak to Irene Gilmer again, or even better call the agency in Ottawa. Maybe, just maybe, either could help her to make some sense of all this.

  There was only one further question she wanted to ask of Father, “You said Henry’s girlfriend’s name was Jenny Sarsky. Could it have been Marjorie Jennifer Sarsky?”

  Father tightened his lips wishing he knew what was troubling Camilla so deeply, “No Camilla, I never heard of the name Marjorie connected to Jenny Sarsky in any way. As far as I know the young girl’s name was always Jenny or Jennifer Sarsky.” The only Marjorie he had heard of lately was the lady he was visiting in the Santa Maria Home, Marjorie Hamilton.

  Camilla rose and extended her hand, “Thank you so much Father for your time, I really must get home and prepare dinner for my boys.”

  Father knew something very powerful was in Camilla’s heart. He wished she would share it with him. “You’re welcome, Camilla. Please come at any time, everything we discuss is between us and I am here to help.”

  “Thank you so much again…and it’s okay, I can find my own way out.”

  With that, Camilla rushed off leaving Father standing there scratching his head.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Father Engelmann entered the hospital bedroom and held the doorknob as he surveyed the room. The curtains were drawn, casting a very dim, soft light over the interior. Very similar to a confessional booth, thought Father. It was almost as if the attending nurse was preparing the room to hear Jenny’s confession.

  “Hello, Father,” said the nurse as she passed by, carrying a tray with a syringe and medication vials on top.

  Jenny turned her head towards Father and managed a tender smile as he sat in a chair next to her bed.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Jenny, almost in a whisper.

  Father smiled and nodded slightly. Over the past few weeks, they both had grown very fond of each other. Father held such compassion for Jenny and felt the pain she was going through. Often in his prayers for her, he would ask the Lord to give him her pain, give him her disease, take his life and give Jenny back the life she so much desired. He struggled to control his emotions at the sight of her with the IV, catheter tubes, and monitoring wires protruding from her frail body. The room was quiet and still, filled with a restful peace.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I wanted to be so alert and ready for you, today. But my medicine was wearing off just before you came in and the nurse had to give me another shot. I don’t know how long I’ll make it.”

  Father took Jenny’s hand in his. “Then, let’s use the time we have, Jenny. We have some privacy here now. Is there anything in your heart which you would like to let me know and receive forgiveness for from our good Lord? Whenever you are ready…”

  From years of conditioning in her elementary school upbringing, Jenny squeezed Father’s hand and began to recite the prayer one says when going to confession.

  “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been several years since my last confession…and these, Father, are the sins I ask forgiveness for. I ask, Father, for forgiveness for the lingering feelings of anger and resentment towards my previous husband and our failed marriage. I know he had to be the way he was, from the way he was brought up. I understand and learned enough about life that James has to be James. I know too, Father that much of it was a facade covering the real James that the Lord created. Someday he may see the James that I always tried to see. I forgive him for all the hurts I felt in our relationship and I ask pardon and forgiveness for all the wrongdoing and the way I contributed to that relationship.”

  Jenny’s breathing was laboured, but she went on, “I ask the Lord to lift all my feelings of pain that I feel between my son and me. I want the Lord to know I forgive my son for not forgiving me and perhaps J.J., too, has to be the way he is now, and I ask you, Father, to pray that before I die, my son and I reconcile. He came to visit me a few months ago and it was so painful to see him go, in such a cold, unforgiving, unloving way. I so need to feel, Father, that he no longer harbours any unforgiveness towards me. I don’t want him to carry that sin.

  “And…and perhaps, Father, my greatest sin is that I so desire the love of a man who is married.”

  Father was momentarily taken aback by Jenny’s confession. How could someone in this condition even have such a thought? How could she possibly be a threat to anyone? He felt a loving heart, one which was filled with care, concern, kindness; one which never could harbour unforgiveness, ill will or hurt anyone. No, in all the years of relating to people would he have ever considered Jenny as one who would interfere in another’s marriage.

  Father raised his bushy eyebrows and gazed over at Jenny. In the dim light, he saw that perhaps his assessment had been questionable. Streaks of shame and guilt ridden tears glistened in Jenny’s eyes as they rolled down her sunken cheeks.

  She squeezed his hand and he knew that she was looking for understanding from him. Father placed his free hand on hers gently patting it.

  “Father, I have only known two loves in my life. The one was my former husband, but I realized too late that he was already married…to his business. Even before we wed, there were such strong signs of his almost complete commitment to his company. I thought he would change but unfortunately he didn’t.

  “And the second man was the love of my youth…my first love. We were so in love, but we were young and at that time my parents mov
ed and somehow we lost touch. Over all those years, Father, in my loneliness with my husband and our failing marriage, how I yearned to be with my first love. It was all I knew, it was the only relationship I could fall back on. My fantasy of being with him seemed to fill the emptiness, the void in my heart… But, Father, he betrothed another and…and has children.”

  A waterfall of tears cascaded down her cheeks and trickled onto the pillow.

  “Oh, Father, I love life so much and yet it doesn’t seem to love me. I want so much to love someone, to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed, to look deeply into someone’s eyes and see that care and love reflected…mirrored back…, but there is no one. My life is slipping away minute by minute. The only one who ever gave me that kind of love, Father, was my first love.

  “He is the only one I think about, dream about and so desire. I know it is wrong; only an illusion, but how else can I support my broken heart? There is no one else who can fill the emptiness.”

  Father was smitten by her anguish, her heartache, her utter desolation. Father understood loneliness. Even though Anna had died so many years ago, the love and companionship they shared so often beckoned him. At night when the busyness of the day was over and he lay in bed enveloped by the darkness, he still reached out for his love’s hand.

  If only he could hold her, sit on her bed and cradle her in his arms, to comfort her. His heart went out to Jenny so deeply, wanting to give all he had, yet he thought better of it. She was in so much pain, and all the tubes and cords going to her body monitoring her sickness. No, it was too dangerous. Father just pressed Jenny’s hand between his with increasing tenderness. He slowly nodded his head. Tears of empathy overflowed and began to drip down onto his hands intertwined with Jenny’s, cascading down their fingers, giving some measure of warmth and comfort.

  By now Jenny was spent, nearing exhaustion. The narcotic had spread throughout her body, lifting her pain, clouding her mind with a false euphoria. The kind of ecstasy Jenny so deeply wanted was not from the rapture of a drug, but the touch of a real hand…Henry’s hand. It was he who could send her off into oblivion. It was only he, who could fill the emptiness lying just below the surface of a medication which was only camouflaging her real heart’s desire.

  Father looked lovingly towards this frail, helpless body, sunk so deeply in her bed, the covers barely revealing the presence of a body underneath. He saw Jenny reach up towards her chest and grasp a metal object that was hanging from a chain around her neck. It was silver but he couldn’t recognize what it was. He tried to see it, but Jenny’s fingers were wrapped around it and the room too dim. For a moment he thought he had seen it before, but it was hidden from view too quickly by Jenny’s grasp.

  Jenny was drifting, being transported into another world, she was no longer aware of Father’s presence or that she was going to confession. Yet there was a yearning, so desirous in her heart that not even the morphine could suppress. As she clutched her guardian angel, Jenny made the same wish, she wished so many lonely days and nights before. She knew she shouldn’t hold such a wish in her heart, but it was the only thing which sustained her.

  “Oh, dear guardian angel, I so wish before I die to be kissed by my first love…my dearest beloved…my dear sweet…Henry…”

  Father strained to hear what Jenny said, thinking it was still part of her confession, but her words were too soft. All he could make out before she drifted off, was her wish to be kissed by… it sounded like … her first love—

  “Oh, Camilla, please come to me, too. Forgive me for giving you away. I did not abandon you…”

  Father leaned forward again, he was certain he heard the name Camilla. “Is Camilla your child, Jenny? Did you give her up for adoption? Is that what you are saying?”

  Jenny remained silent and Father knew the drugs had taken over.

  Camilla was such an unusual name. Father liked it the moment he was introduced to Henry’s daughter-in-law. But Camilla had never spoken about being adopted…

  What a coincidence Father thought that Jenny should mention her daughter, Camilla and just the other week when he met with Henry’s daughter-in-law she wanted to know the name of Henry’s girlfriend, Jenny Sarsky.

  The link was so close to Father, just a breath away, but the thought of the two being connected was too remote, too improbable to even give it any kind of consideration.

  “Oh, Lord, I couldn’t hear all she said and wished for…and I do not understand it. But I know nothing passes your discernment and you hear everything that is in the heart. And I am certain, this poor, dear sweet lady’s last thoughts came from her heart.

  Whatever she wished for, I pray you grant her what may very well be her last wish.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  At Henry’s new home, he was making discovery after discovery. He was falling in love with an illusion, a kindred spirit of sorts whose house he had the good fortune to purchase. Henry visited the home daily, just to feel the peace and spiritual sustenance he derived from it.

  Everything he looked at, every book he picked up, every item he discovered in a room, a box, or a trunk immediately appealed to him. He could no longer tell if it was the object itself, or the sense of feeling the touch of the previous person who had owned and held it. Henry was going beyond the physical, natural world and entering the supernatural, trying to connect with the person behind it all.

  Who was the wonderful lady who owned all these things? Who mirrored back to him such a strong unexplainable attraction?

  The books especially overwhelmingly appealed to Henry; most had to do with spiritual or personal development. Remarkably, many of the books Mrs. Hamilton had in her book cases were ones Henry had in his, as well. Books by Eric Fromm, Maslow, The Old Man and The Sea, Catcher in the Rye, Rollo May, C.S Lewis, and on and on.

  Every day, Henry took another book from the bookshelf in the living room or the second bedroom which Marjorie had converted into an office. It was incredibly amazing to find another person with tastes and likes so similar to his, particularly at the cognitive level. Henry was filled with the wonderment of it all.

  With each visit, Henry struggled to accept that it was now his house, his home. It really was someone else’s home, and by some good fortune he had come into this windfall through the misfortune of its owner. He had literally walked into a home that only existed in his dreams. Everything he ever wanted in a home was phenomenally here – no – somehow strangely here.

  Henry was becoming so in tune with the spirit of the previous owner that he found himself unconsciously talking to her. He secretly hoped she would be there; he wanted so much to meet her, to see her, talk to her, share with her, read to her…to hold her.

  Henry searched in vain for a photograph of her, something more concrete to relate to, more so than objects and furniture, but he couldn’t find any photos. All Henry could do was conjure up some image of Marjorie; a lady of grace and beauty, elegant, dignified and tasteful in every respect. A lady who loved life and tried to understand it. A lady who sought self-improvement and spiritual growth, who was hungry for knowledge. Every book he picked up was a clue to her inner mind…her being.

  What Henry didn’t fully realize however, was that his imaginings were invoking an image of what his first love might be like. Ever since discovering Jenny’s letter in his mother’s treasure chest, Henry had been subconsciously trying to bring her into his life some way. He knew she was married and that he could no longer have her in real life, but after purchasing Mrs. Hamilton’s house and discovering this inconceivable sense of appeal and inner peace in this new environment, his mind somehow found an outlet for his desire of Jenny, in Marjorie Hamilton!

  One day, Henry called the Santa Maria home, inquiring about Mrs. Hamilton. For weeks he was hesitant to call, he was afraid that the fantasy of the person he had conjured up in his mind might not fit the illusion. That Marjorie Hamilton was old and
unattractive…and not on the high pedestal he had built up in his mind to be that of his first love. He felt so at peace with his imaginings and the comfort he derived from these fantasies as an outlet for his subconscious desire for Jenny. It would crush him to discover something different. His world would collapse; he did not want to experience any let down.

  He was almost relieved when the nurse at the care home informed him that Mrs. Hamilton was too ill to have visitors and that only members of the family and those requested by Mrs. Hamilton herself were permitted to visit. Yet, Henry felt like a member of her family. He felt he knew Marjorie perhaps better even than her own family, who didn’t seem to want anything of hers.

  And yet Henry desired everything of hers, even Marjorie herself.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  After Father’s visit yesterday and her confession, Jenny was spent. She not only slept right through dinner time but through the entire night as well. Today was the first time in days that Jenny felt alert and rested.

  A respite Jenny was thankful for, as she was about to be visited by one of her favourite people.

  “Chloe! Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you!” Jenny exclaimed as her adopted niece walked into the room.

  “It’s so good to see you too, Auntie!”

  Chloe rushed over and gingerly hugged her dear aunt.

  “Dad was trying to come as well but is just finishing with the conference and promised to be here early next week.”

  “That will be wonderful, I haven’t seen Robbie since Tammy passed away…Oh, I’m sorry, Chloe.”

  “That’s okay, Auntie, I miss Mom terribly but I have accepted it…so how are you keeping, Auntie?”

  “Well, I’m hanging in there. The prognosis doesn’t look that promising but I keep hoping and praying for the best.”