“There,” she said and put the crayon down. She took a deep breath and smiled. Her face was flushed from excitement.
“Great, I like it,” Jonas said.
There was a knock at the door. It was Anna to pick up Karla from her lesson. Jonas looked at her surprised. She looked different—younger, better. He wanted to make her a compliment but couldn’t figure out what it was that had changed her. A new outfit? She was wearing black slacks and a black-and-blue patterned blouse, which flattered her facial color and emphasized her blue-gray eyes, but that’s not what it was . . . he finally saw it. “Your hair?”
Anna blushed. “Yeah. My hairdresser talked me into adding highlights.”
“It looks great,” Jonas said.
“Thank you.” Anna gave an embarrassed smile, then walked over to Karla and looked at the painting of the monster. “Whoa, that’s one scary picture.”
Jonas shrugged. “We had a little therapy session.”
Anna hugged Karla, then smiled at Jonas. “Thanks.”
Chapter 9
Anna had just finished reading stories from Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book, one of Karla’s favorites. Although Karla was able to read herself, she enjoyed listening to Anna reading before going to sleep. Anna had a soothing voice and it made Karla feel good. She was even better at reading and telling stories than her mama had been. She remembered the times Aunt Anna had come to visit her when she still lived at home. Her mother had always let Anna read stories to Karla. She would sit next to Karla and they would both listen.
Perhaps her mama was listening now as well.
Anna put the book aside and smiled. “More tomorrow, okay? Time to sleep.” She kissed Karla good night and blew out the candle on the small shrine in the corner of her bedroom. Anna and Karla had built the shrine as a memory to Karla’s mother. On a small chestnut-wood table, Karla had set up a few memorabilia from her mother: photos, an amber necklace, and a few colored stones Karla and her mother had collected during a vacation in the mountains. A vase with fresh flowers stood next to a candle, which Anna lit in the evening during story time and when Karla was saying her prayers.
Karla yawned and fell asleep, thinking about the drowsy creatures in Dr. Seuss’s book. In the middle of the night, she woke from a dream. She had been walking around the graveyard together with her mother. They stood in front of her mother’s plot, which was piled high with flowers and wreaths: white, yellow, and pink lilies; dark-blue irises; bright-red tulips; and more. Her mother was standing next to her. She was alive. They looked at her grave, at the decorations, but they weren’t sad. They smiled.
It was a beautiful dream and Karla wanted to go back to it. Lying in the dark, she remembered a story she had heard in Sunday school. It was the story of Lazarus, one of the miracles Jesus had performed. Lazarus had died and Jesus had brought him back from the dead. The story had made a deep impression on Karla. During church on Sunday, the priest had talked about prayers. He had said that God heard our prayers.
All of a sudden, Karla shot up in bed. Her heart was beating fast. It all made sense now. If Jesus made Lazarus alive again, perhaps he could do the same for Karla’s mother. And if Karla prayed really hard, God or Jesus would hear her. Karla turned on the light. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the shrine. Anna had said that the dead didn’t come back, ever. But in the Bible it said that miracles could happen, so perhaps Anna was wrong. Perhaps a miracle would happen for Karla, too.
Karla slipped out of bed. She picked up the box with the matches, then hesitated for a moment. Anna had warned her not to light the candle by herself, that it was too dangerous. But everything looked more beautiful with candlelight and Karla was sure God would like it. It would be all right. He would protect her. Karla carefully struck the match and lit the candle. She smiled as she watched the flame flicker in the light breeze from the half-open window. She turned off the light and kneeled down on the pillow next to the shrine. The flame tossed a pattern of light and shadows on the wall next to the shrine. The scented candle gave off a whiff of lavender. But it was still dark in the room and Karla remembered the many candles in church people lit for dead members of their family or friends. Karla needed more candles. She wanted to do this right; it had to be festive if she wanted to get God’s attention.
She opened and closed the door carefully and tiptoed through the hallway. In front of Anna’s bedroom, she stopped for a moment. Perhaps she should tell Anna, but Anna was probably asleep. She didn’t want to wake her. She knew where Anna kept the candles in the kitchen. She opened the bottom drawer of the kitchen cabinet. The drawer was stuck and squeaked when she pulled at it. It always did that in the hot summer months. Karla held her breath and listened, but nothing stirred in the house. She grabbed a bunch of candles and tiptoed back to the bedroom.
When she opened the door, the draft from the hallway and from the open window blew the curtain back and forth. It brushed against the candle flame, extinguishing it, but the old dry cloth had caught on fire. At first, it was just smoldering, but another draft fanned the flames and made them shoot high up, consuming the curtain and licking at the ceiling.
Karla dropped the candles and stared at the fire, paralyzed. Images of a burning car, of two bodies leaning over the dashboard flashed before her eyes. The sickening smell of burning cloth finally ripped her out of her apathy. She began to scream loud and long. Someone called her and then everything went dark.
When she woke up, she was lying on the sofa in the living room. Anna, her hair tousled, looked at her with fearful eyes. She gently stroked her forehead. A man whom Karla recognized as her pediatrician stood next to her. A few men in uniform were walking back and forth talking loudly. Firefighters, Karla thought.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.
“Okay,” Karla whispered.
The doctor put a stethoscope on Karla’s chest and checked her out, then asked her to sit up. “Are you feeling sick?”
Karla shook her head. “What happened?” Then she remembered and started to cry. “I wanted to light a candle and pray.”
Anna hugged her. “It’s all right. I was able to extinguish it in time. The curtain burned and the wall needs to be painted, but it could’ve been worse. And the neighbors saw the flames and called the fire department.”
“She’ll be okay. She must have fainted from the shock more than from the smoke,” the doctor said. “You caught her in time. Just make sure she doesn’t sleep in her bedroom tonight. There may still be fumes. If she starts feeling ill, let me know right away, but I think she’ll be fine.”
“Oh, no, she’ll sleep in my room,” Anna said. She sounded relieved but she was still pale.
The doctor touched Karla’s cheek. “Sleep tight and no more matches and candles tonight, okay?”
Karla nodded. She was still confused. Everything had happened so fast. One of the firefighters with a hard hat stepped out of her bedroom. “Okay, we’re done. No major damage. You were very lucky.”
Then he turned to Karla, and said in a serious and somewhat commanding voice: “Now listen, little girl. You know this could’ve gone bad. You have to be very careful with matches. Next time, tell your mother to be with you and let her light the candle, okay?”
Karla’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to pray for my mama and it all went wrong.” She began to sob again.
The firefighter looked at Anna startled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize . . .”
“It’s okay,” Anna said. “Her mother died. I’m her aunt.”
“So sorry.” His face softened. He gently patted Karla’s head. “Just be careful, honey, okay?”
Karla nodded and lowered her eyes.
Anna accompanied the firefighters to the door. After they had left, Karla got up and walked to her bedroom. The wall above the window and part of the ceiling was black. The curtain, all black, was lying on the floor. Otherwise nothing was burnt. It smelled icky, though, and Karla began to feel nauseated. She stepp
ed back out of the room.
Anna put her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll call the painter tomorrow. We’ll buy a new curtain. It’ll be okay. But tell me, what happened? Why did you light the candle again? I told you not to play with matches when you’re alone.”
Karla told her about her attempt to make the room look festive, that she had wanted to pray and ask God to bring her mama back, just like he had done with Lazarus.
“Lazarus?” Anna looked at her puzzled.
“The priest at Sunday school told us that Jesus brought Lazarus back from the dead. He called him in his grave and Lazarus stood up and walked around.”
Anna sighed. Great, just what we need. Stupid priest. “I’ll try to explain that thing with Lazarus tomorrow, okay? Now let’s just go to bed and get some sleep.”
Karla was lying next to Anna, listening to her steady breathing. Branches of the tall pine tree next to the window squeaked once in a while in the breeze. The trunk of the tree lit by a lantern behind it cast a long shadow across the bed through the half-open window. It was peaceful after the turmoil of the fire, but Karla couldn’t settle down. Tears kept gathering in her eyes and a feeling of deep disappointment hurt her chest.
It wasn’t fair. She had wanted to do everything right. She had prayed and God hadn’t answered her. He hadn’t protected her. He had let the curtain burn and the ceiling get all black and ugly. And her mama, who they all said was watching over her, hadn’t helped her, either. Slowly, her sadness turned to anger.
For the first time, she began to doubt the stories she was told, the stories of a kind and just God who loved his children. “God is mean,” Karla murmured. She wondered if she would now be punished, but nothing happened. It was dark and quiet in the room, no stern voice sounded from Heaven. Karla disentangled herself from Anna’s embrace. She sat up. “God is mean.” Her voice was defiant.
“Hush.” Anna pulled her down next to her. “Calm down and let’s get some sleep.”
“I hate God. He doesn’t even listen,” Karla said, her voice breaking.
Anna sighed. “I guess we might as well forget about sleep. Okay, let’s get up. I’ll make us some tea and milk.”
Chapter 10
While the Earl Gray tea was steeping, Anna watched through the kitchen window as dawn began to spread. It was going to be another hot day. In the distance, a rooster crowed on one of the last remaining farms in town, which had seen an increase in new homes being built for the growing number of people who moved out of the city to the countryside. The formerly quiet road about a mile away from Anna’s house had been widened and now saw a steady stream of cars and trucks driving into Zurich and out of it during rush hour. Freeways began to take the place of formerly two-lane roads. The country was still far away from the urban sprawl she had experienced in the United States, but Anna watched the development and seemingly increased “Americanization” of her hometown with trepidation.
This morning, however, after the shock of the fire, she was concerned about other things. She heated some milk and checked on Karla, who had finally succumbed to sleep. Anna picked up the down comforter, which had slipped onto the floor as a result of the child’s tossing and turning, and covered her gently. She tiptoed out of the room and closed the door.
She poured herself a cup of tea and went into the living room. Standing by the window, she inhaled the tart bergamot-oil fragrance before taking the first sip. The scent dispersed the still-lingering smell of the fire somewhat. She sighed, trying to think of a way to explain the meaning behind the tales in the Bible, the story of Lazarus and of the miracles that Jesus supposedly had performed.
Anna’s own attitude toward miracles was quite jaded. She had had her share of so-called miracles in her life. While she had lived in the United States, she had been a member of one of the many New Age meditation centers. It was after a disastrous love affair, when she was looking for a higher kind of love, unsoiled from the earthly human betrayals and mistakes. She realized soon enough, however, that the members of spiritual communities were—well—human and had all the flaws the rest of humanity grappled with. And most of the miracles turned out to be mere illusions in the end.
On the one hand, Anna was glad that Karla found some solace in the stories of the Bible and she had done her part to make her believe that God was watching over Karla and her mother. On the other hand, Anna’s own beliefs were on shaky ground. Was there a god?
Anna took a deep breath and watched as the sun rose behind the trees, bathing the tops in a halo of brilliant light. There were moments when she felt that there truly was a benevolent force. At other times, the world and humanity seemed to her rudderless, tainted, convoluted at best, and vicious at worst. And love? Well, she hadn’t had much luck with love, at least not with love for a man. The one she had loved the most had caused her so much heartache that she began to doubt that such a thing even existed.
That was until Karla came along. Her niece had given her back some of the trust in love. The little girl had been able to soften and warm that hard, cold place in her chest. Anna would do anything to help her. But how?
Outside, it was getting light. Anna gazed at the thin strips of crimson and orange on the horizon. The maple tree and the birches in front of the house were ablaze in the first sun rays and the dewdrops on the fleshy leaves of the rhododendron shrubs sparkled in the light. The beautiful scenery soothed her worries. She nodded and gave a smile. All she could do at the moment was to answer the child’s questions as honestly as possible. And it meant saying she didn’t know rather than trying to pretend she believed in something she didn’t. Children knew when you were faking.
“That story about Lazarus,” Anna began as she and Karla sat at the breakfast table. “I’ll try to explain it to you as well as I can. A lot of the stories in the Bible are mysterious. They were written a long, long time ago in a language very different from our own. A lot of very intelligent people have been trying to interpret them and they often disagree.
“So what I tell you is my own opinion and other people may not agree with me. Your priest for instance. But you are a smart girl and, when you are a little older, you will have your own ideas about what the stories mean.”
Karla, holding a piece of bread smeared with butter and jam in her hand, stopped chewing and gazed at Anna with intensity.
Anna smiled. “Why don’t we finish breakfast first and then I’ll tell you. Okay?”
Karla nodded and kept on eating.
After breakfast, they cleared away the dishes and Anna poured another cup of tea for herself and milk for Karla. They sat down on the sofa next to the window. The sun stood tall above the pine trees of the forest. A thin layer of white haze floated around the tree tops.
Anna cleared her throat. “Have you ever heard of ‘near death’ experiences?” she asked Karla.
Karla shrugged, then shook her head.
“Sometimes, when a person is very ill or had a severe accident, he or she almost dies. They even stop breathing for some time, but they’re still alive. Sometimes, someone can be in a coma. That’s a very deep sleep.”
“Like the woman in the hospital?” Karla asked.
“Yes, like that woman.” Anna and Karla had visited a sick friend of Anna’s and in a bed next to her had been a woman who had been in a coma for several years. Karla had been fascinated and somewhat uneasy about the experience and had asked many questions.
“Nowadays,” Anna continued, “doctors can tell if a person is dead or only seemingly dead. But in the past, thousands of years ago, when Jesus was alive, doctors didn’t have that kind of knowledge. So, perhaps, Lazarus was only near death and his family put him into a tomb. That’s not like our graves but rather like a small stone house for the dead. Anyway, when Jesus called him, Lazarus may have just woken up from his coma. And the people thought it was a miracle. Do you understand?”
Karla nodded. She looked disappointed. “Then Jesus didn’t do any miracles?”
“I didn’t say
that. He may have performed miracles. But you know, people have different ideas of what a miracle is. For instance, sometimes a person is very ill and recovers and that’s like a miracle, isn’t it?”
Karla didn’t look convinced. Obviously for her a miracle was something much more magical, something exotic, like Jesus walking on water.
“You were angry at God yesterday because you felt he didn’t help you,” Anna continued. “But think about it. That fire could’ve been a lot worse. The whole house could’ve burned down and you could’ve been hurt badly. But that didn’t happen, did it? I woke up in time because I felt in my sleep that something was wrong.” Anna, try to stay true to the facts here. You heard her scream.
“You think God made you wake up?” Karla’s face brightened.
Anna smiled at Karla. “What do you think?”
Karla nodded. “Cool.”
Anna laughed. “I guess you could call it that.”
There was a sudden lightness in the air. “So, God may have also taught us a lesson. No more lighting candles without me being present, okay?”
Karla nodded. “Can I paint now?”
“Of course you can.”
Karla got up, ran to her room, and dug out her drawing pad from underneath the pile of art utensils.
Did we achieve anything? Anna wondered. At least Karla seemed happier again.
As Anna expected, Karla made a drawing of her experience at night. She drew the inside of her bedroom. A little girl was standing next to the window, looking at flames consuming the curtain. In the next room, a woman was lying in bed. A long arm, clothed in white, reached down from above through the roof, and a large hand touched the woman’s shoulder.
Anna nodded and smiled as Karla showed her the picture.
An Uncommon Family Page 4
