Blue Heart Blessed

by Susan Meissner

  “Please don’t do this, Daniel.”

  “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “No, it’s not!” I wailed.

  He stood up. “I think I should go.”

  I sprang to my feet as well and reached out my hand to touch him. “Can’t we talk about it this, Daniel? Please?”

  He exhaled heavily. “It won’t change anything, Daisy. I can’t marry you. You shouldn’t want me to.”

  But I did. I did. Even while he stood there ready to leave the apartment and me, I still wanted him to marry me.

  “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll talk about how we’re going to handle this.”

  “Daniel, please!”

  He leaned down and placed the little Jordan almond on my coffee table next to a pile of poufs of white fabric and sweetness.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really very sorry.” He moved past me, walked to my front door and opened it. A second later he was gone.

  I felt for the bench of my father’s piano behind me and sank down onto it. When I leaned back against the keys in my anguish, they made a fairy-like sound.

  I’ve never missed my father as much as I did in that moment, when I realized the man I loved didn’t love me.

  I knew I could—and would—call my mother and she’d be over in a flash to weep with me and hold me tight. But she wasn’t the one who used to sing to me “I’m half-crazy all for the love of you.” She wasn’t the one who called me her little girl. She’s not the one who chose my name.

  It was my dad who did all those things.

  Twenty-six

  Weak rays of morning sunlight weave their way through the bits of colored glass in the window above the little altar, lighting the chapel with hushed hues.

  I am sitting in the front pew.

  Usually I come here to pray.

  Today I am just here to listen.

  I awoke this morning thinking of Daniel. Of how happy he looked yesterday. Of how much he clearly needed assurance that he could marry this girl Dana without any baggage from the past messing things up for him.

  He said I was amazing.

  Smart. Professional.

  That the guy who falls for me will be the luckiest guy in the world.

  Next to him.

  I don’t feel like any of those things are true about me. I don’t feel like I am smart or professional or amazing.

  Father Laurent told me once that there is someone who knows exactly what is true about me and what isn’t and that is God. He also told me on Sunday that I need to shut up and listen if I want to hear what God is saying to me. About me.

  Okay, he didn’t say shut-up.

  But the implication is there.

  So here I am.

  In this quiet place.

  It actually feels really good to be sitting here and not cataloging my woes or ticking off my grocery list of things I want.

  It feels really good to just sit and be silent.

  I close my eyes and let the stillness fill me.

  I don’t notice that the door behind me opens. I am just suddenly aware that someone has taken the seat beside me. I know without opening my eyes that it is Father Laurent.

  I keep my eyes closed. “Good morning, Father.”

  “Good morning, Daisy.”

  “Did you hear about my day yesterday?” I ask, eyes still closed.

  “Yes.”

  “My mom told you?”

  “She did.”

  I open my eyes and turn to him. He is looking at me with utter kindness.

  “Are you okay?” he says.

  I smile. “Daniel says I am amazing.”

  “Daisy.”

  I look down at my feet and laugh. A tiny little laugh. More like a chuckle. But I don’t like the word chuckle. It’s a word for clowns and sitcoms and folks whose only problem in life is that all the raisins fall to the bottom of their Raisin Bran. “I’m doing better than it probably looks, Father. I’m not mad at Daniel. I’m not sad for him. I’m just a little sad for me.”

  Father Laurent leans over to me like he is going to tell me a secret. “Maybe it isn’t the best time to tell you this, but I think you should know that you’ve been designed for a deeper love than what you’re looking for. We all have. The love you find in God and the love he gives you to give away to others is what you’re really after, Daisy. It’s what we all long for. And no one can keep you from having it and having it in abundance. No one but you.”

  I close my eyes again as I let his words—heavy, yet gentle—invade my brain. I know what he is trying to communicate to me is completely profound. I can feel it. And I don’t want to miss it. But it feels like a concept just beyond my reach, just outside of what I can understand.

  “Everything you hunger for, you’ve already been given,” he continues. “You’re already loved beyond your wildest dreams. You are wearing the ruby slippers, Daisy. They’ve been on your feet the whole time.”

  I open my eyes and look over at Father Laurent. He is smiling. He knows my fondness for movies that make me cry. “You make it sound so easy.”

  He pauses just for a second. “It’s not that it’s so easy, it’s that it’s so magnificent. And you don’t have to fight for it. It’s already yours.”

  I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. I hope he doesn’t mind. It is on the tip of my tongue to call him Dad. Dad used to give me advice like Father Laurent is giving me right now. I miss him.

  “Still have the little blue heart I gave you?” Father Laurent says.

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to remember what I’ve told you today. Can you do that? Can you look at that little heart and remember this?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good girl. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t. I don’t quite understand it, but I won’t forget it.” I lift my head. I want to ask him something. “Father?”

  “Yes?”

  “How come you had that heart in your pocket the day you gave it to me?”

  A look of longing seems to cross his face. “I was keeping it for someone.”

  He stands. Waits for a second with his left hand on the back of the pew. And then takes a step. Guess we’re done talking about that.

  “Thanks, Father.”

  He turns his head back around. “C’mon. I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

  I follow him out of the chapel. L’Raine is at the front counter of Something Blue. It is still twenty minutes to opening and she is polishing the glass case where our most expensive hair and veil decorations glisten on a swath of navy blue velvet.

  “Good morning, L’Raine,” I call out and she looks up with a sympathetic, puppy dog look on her face, testing my resolve to stay focused the very minute I emerge from the chapel.

  Ahead of me Father Laurent pauses for a moment. Then he takes a step forward and stops again. He pitches forward a tiny bit and then grabs his left forearm.

  “Father?”

  He turns toward me and I can see fear in his eyes. I rush toward him as he sinks to his knees. A groan escapes him and he screws his eyes shut in pain.

  “L’Raine! Call 9-1-1!” I scream and I rush to my own knees as Father Laurent’s legs give out. He collapses hard against me.

  Please, please, please, God. Don’t take Father Laurent. Don’t take him. Don’t take him.

  I hear L’Raine sputtering to give our address. I hear her saying that she doesn’t know if Father Laurent is breathing.

  I can feel Father Laurent’s chest rising and falling but I cannot seem to turn my head and tell L’Raine this. It’s like if I mention it, it will stop.

  “Daisy?” Father Laurent whispers.

  “Shhh, Father. Help is on the way.”

  “Don’t forget what I told you.”

  Twenty-seven

  The ambulance is several minutes ahead of me as I dash out of the building to get into my own car. Max is with me. When I ran up to my apartment to grab my purse and cell phone I was yelling his nam
e over and over. Solomon appeared first on the stairs, in his bathrobe and clutching a bagel.

  “Get Max!” I yelled as I dashed into my apartment to get my things.

  “What’s he done now?” Solomon called after me. “Hey, did I hear sirens?”

  I didn’t answer and Solomon did what I asked. Max was on the landing when I came out of my apartment; thankfully he was wearing more than just boxers—his usual attire at eight-forty-five in the morning.

  “What’s up?” Max had said, his hair traveling in every compass direction possible. “I thought I heard a siren.”

  “Max, you’ve got to come with me. It’s Father Laurent. He collapsed downstairs. We need to follow the ambulance to the hospital.”

  Max had said nothing. He just burst down the stairs ahead of me. When he and I got to the floor of Something Blue, Father Laurent was on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over his face and paramedics were wheeling him out the door. Mom had come downstairs and was standing next to L’Raine, who was crying softly. Mom’s face was pale. No doubt she was thinking of my dad. So was I.

  “Is he okay? What happened?” Max said this to the paramedics but they just turned to me and told me they were taking Father Laurent to Methodist Hospital and that I should try and contact his family.

  His family.

  It took me a second to comprehend that we—Mom and L’Raine and Solomon and Mario and Rosalina and Wendy and Philip and Max and me—aren’t Father’s family. It just feels like we are.

  Now as Max and I bolt for my car I realize I must find a way to get a hold of Ramsey.

  I run back to the door and throw it open. I poke my head back inside Something Blue. Mom and L’Raine haven’t moved. “Mom!”

  She turns her head to look at me. She is ashen.

  “Go up to Father Laurent’s apartment and go through his desk. Look for an address book or anything that has Ramsey’s telephone number inside it. Or look for the Horn Blower’s number!”

  Her eyes widen.

  “I mean Kristen! Look for Kristen’s number. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  “I’ve got my cell phone. Call me when you find a number.”

  I turn and dash away.

  “What happened to him?” Max says a moment later as I start the car and peel out of the parking lot.

  “We were coming out of the chapel. He hesitated when he first stood up in the pew and then he faltered as he was walking out. Then he collapsed.” Tears of fear are building in my eyes. They sting.

  I turn onto busy Hennepin Avenue and my hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

  “Want me to drive?” Max’s voice is kind, not patronizing.

  “I’m okay. Thanks. Thanks for coming, Max.”

  “Sure.”

  We arrive at Methodist Hospital many long minutes after the ambulance. I find a place to park and as Max and I are walking toward the ER doors, my phone rings. It’s Mom.

  “Honey, I think I found a number for Ramsey. It’s in a little brown phone book. There’s three numbers under his name, actually. One says ‘work,’ though. And one starts with three threes.”

  “That’s probably his cell phone. Give me the rest of that one, Mom. He and Liam are camping at the North Shore. I’m sure he has a cell phone with him.”

  Mom tells me the rest of the number. “Is… is he okay?” she adds. Her voice is weak. Like mine. I can’t imagine running Something Blue without Father Laurent. I can’t. Who will bless my little blue hearts? Who will bless me?

  “I don’t know, Mom. We just got here. I’ll call you when I know.”

  I click the phone off and Max and I walk through the emergency room doors and toward whatever news waits inside.

  It seems like a very long time before Max and I are told that Father Laurent isn’t dead. I suppose it’s only twenty minutes or so. I don’t know. I’m not wearing a watch. And time has no meaning in an emergency room.

  Father has had a heart attack we are told. He survived it.

  I keep saying this to myself over and over.

  I’ve stepped outside twice to try and reach Ramsey. Both times I’ve gotten his voice mail. Both times I’ve left a message for him to call me.

  The nurses understand that Max and I aren’t Father Laurent’s children, though we worry, fret and pace like we are. They’ve told us we’ll be able to see Father Laurent in a few minutes, before they move him upstairs.

  A man in scrubs and a white coat is now walking toward us. Max and I stand in unison. The doctor stretches out his hand to me. “Hello, I’m Dr. Newell. Are you the family of Miles Laurent?”

  “Kind of,” I answer. “He feels like family to us.”

  “Does he have any family?”

  “I’m trying to reach his son, Ramsey. He’s on a camping trip. I’ve left two messages. I’m his… his friend. Daisy Murien. This is Max Dacey.”

  “Okay. Well, I understand you’d like to see Mr. Laurent before he’s moved upstairs. I just want to let you know it can only be for a few minutes. He’s stabilized but his heart has had a pretty rough morning so you’ll need to make the visit short. Mr. Laurent suffered a—”

  “Father Laurent.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He’s a retired priest. His name is Father Laurent.”

  “Oh… I see. Well, as you know, Father Laurent suffered a moderately severe myocardial infarction. A heart attack. He’s got a significant arterial block that we need to take care of or he will likely have another one. We believe the best route for Mr.—ah, Father Laurent is take him upstairs to our cath lab and insert a balloon into the blocked artery to get things running again. We use a catheter so it’s non-invasive surgery and we usually see great results. Father Laurent has been briefed on the risks and benefits and he’s ready to go.”

  “There are risks?” I don’t like hearing the word “risks” while standing in an emergency room.

  “There are risks with almost any medical procedure, Ms. Murien. But we simply have to ease the conditions that led to this heart attack or he will have another episode. The next one could be fatal.”

  Ramsey, Ramsey, where are you?

  “Can you wait until I get a hold of his son?” I ask.

  “If you manage to reach him in the next few minutes we can. Otherwise, no.”

  I hate this.

  “How long will the procedure take? How long will Father Laurent have to stay in the hospital?” Max asks.

  “He’ll be under a general anesthetic and will be hospitalized for a few days while we monitor him. Then he’ll likely be discharged in a couple days. Many people are fully recovered within a month or so after an attack like this one and who undergo angioplasty.”

  “So we can see him now?” I ask.

  “Sure. But just for a minute or two.”

  We follow Dr. Newell into a room with a wide door. Father Laurent is lying on a bed at a forty-five-degree angle. He is wearing a blue, polka-dotted hospital gown. I’ve never seen him wear anything so juvenile. Monitors, tubing and beeping machines are all around him. He sees us and smiles.

  “Guess you’re not rid of me yet.” His voice is weak.

  I reach for one of his hands. “Don’t even joke that way, Father.”

  “Does Ramsey know?”

  “I’m trying to reach him. I have his cell phone number. My mom got it out of your apartment. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.

  “I’ll keep trying until I get him.”

  “Thanks.” He turns his head slowly to Max. “She made you come?”

  “I made ambulance sounds so we could get past all the traffic,” Max jokes.

  “That was nice of you. Thanks, Max.”

  “Father.” I still have hold of his hand. “They’re moving you upstairs soon to the cath lab. They told us we could only see you for a few minutes. But I want you to know I’m coming upstairs, too. I’ll be right outside your door if you need anything.”

  “You don’t have to sta
y, Daisy.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  I wish there was more I could do. He thinks staying is too much and I’m painfully aware of how insufficient it is. I feel for the little heart in my skirt pocket and withdraw it.

  “Want to hold onto my little blue heart?” I whisper.

  He grins. “I don’t have any pockets in this thing. You keep it for now. Add my name when you pray over it.”

  The door behind us opens and a nurse steps in. “Okay, folks, we need to get Father Laurent ready for his transfer upstairs, so, if you don’t mind?”

  I lean down and kiss Father Laurent on the forehead. “Don’t you even think of going anywhere,” I tell him.

  Max and I turn and leave the room. The beeping sounds of the machines match the cadence of our footfalls.

  As soon as we’re back in the lobby my phone rings.

  It’s Ramsey.

  “What’s this about my dad being in the hospital? Which one? Is he okay?”

  Ramsey sounds agitated and afraid. I wonder if Liam is nearby listening to this.

  “He had a heart attack this morning. I’m at Methodist Hospital with him. The doctor in the ER said it was a moderately severe one. They’re taking him upstairs right now to insert a balloon into one of his arteries.”

  “Surgery? Just like that?” His voice is strident.

  “The doctor said it’s not invasive. They use a catheter to put it in.”

  “Can’t they wait until I get there?”

  “I asked, Ramsey. Believe me, I did. The doctor said it’s not safe to wait. Your father could have another attack. And the next one could be worse.”

  There is silence on the other end.

  “Okay, okay,” Ramsey finally says. “Liam and I will get there as soon as we can. We’re in Grand Marais and we have to break camp. But we’ll get there just as soon as we can. Methodist, you said?”

  Grand Marais. That’s practically in Canada. A good five-hour drive from here. “Yes. Methodist.”

  “Okay.” Ramsey pauses. “Thank you. Thanks for being there with him.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Another little pause.

  “Okay. Goodbye.”

  “Bye, Ramsey.”