Blue Heart Blessed

by Susan Meissner

  “Can I get you something to eat?”

  He shakes his head.

  “We’ve been trying all afternoon to get him to eat something,” L’Raine calls out from the kitchen. “We’re making tapioca. Homemade. With real vanilla.”

  “Tapioca sounds good,” I murmur.

  Father Laurent makes a face. “Nothing sounds good. But I’ll try and eat it.”

  I pat his arm and he looks up at me. “Did you talk to Ramsey?” he whispers.

  I shake my head. “He’s been avoiding me, I think.”

  “He’s been worried about me. And Liam left this morning for Mexico. He’s had a lot on his mind.”

  “Sure. Of course he has.”

  “Don’t give up on him, Daisy,” he says, in a still softer voice.

  This request catches me off guard completely. I wonder if Father Laurent knows who has given up on whom. I don’t feel like the one who has written someone off. It feels like quite the opposite.

  “Daisy?”

  “I think he may have given up on me, Father.”

  “Don’t let him.”

  “Father, I don’t know that I…” but I don’t finish. L’Raine appears from the kitchen with a little bowl and a spoon in her hands. My mother is following her.

  “Warm tapioca, Father Laurent. The best kind of comfort food.”

  “You ladies are too good to me.” He catches my eye and grins.

  “Daisy,” My mother is looking at my unsleeved arms. “You’re sunburned.”

  I glance down at my shoulders. “Just a little.”

  “You should go put something on it. Or you’ll blister.”

  I stand. “Goodbye Father Laurent.”

  “See you later?”

  “Sure.”

  His eyes follow me out the door.

  Ramsey returns just before twilight but he heads straight for Father Laurent’s apartment.

  I consider walking up to the door, knocking, and asking him when he opens it if I can speak to him.

  But I picture him saying no and it’s easy to talk myself out of it.

  Asking to speak to a man and then having him turn you down is a tad too much like being snubbed and I’m just not in the mood for it.

  Instead, I invite Maria Andréa over to watch Thirteen Going on Thirty. We have a good laugh over the irony of it. I’m going on thirty she’s going on thirteen.

  There’s a tiny bit of a wedding in that movie. It’s toward the end, when Jennifer Garner’s character realizes she can’t be with the man she really loves because she waited too long to get her act together and he’s about to marry someone else. It’s a scene to make you cry.

  So we do.

  When Andréa leaves to go back to her aunt and uncle’s, I have an itching desire to sneak up to the roof and look at it in the moonlight. But there’s the slight possibility that I will meet Ramsey in the third-floor hallway. And I’m in my pj’s. I chicken out.

  Cluck, cluck.

  For the first time in many months, Rosalina and Mario aren’t having Sunday dinner at their apartment. They are attending another niece’s quinceañera in Apple Valley.

  It’s Sunday afternoon and I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. Mom and L’Raine are at a friend’s house playing bridge. Max is with Bettina. Wendy and Philip are on vacation in the Boundary Waters. Solomon is gone, too. I’ve no idea where. The Finland is empty except for me, Father Laurent and Ramsey.

  I spend the better part of the day working up the courage to speak to Ramsey.

  I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to say. Something like, “Ramsey, about me touching you on the shoulder like that. I just want you to know it was because I was eavesdropping and I heard Kristen…” No. “I just want you to know I wasn’t trying to come on to you…” No, no, no. “I just wanted her to feel sorry she had treated you so bad because I got dumped once, too…”

  A thousand times no.

  There’s really nothing I can say except that I’m sorry.

  And then wait to see if he tells me there’s no need to say that.

  At a little after eight, just before sundown, I timidly head to the third floor. When I reach the top step, I see Ramsey disappearing through the doorway to the roof access.

  Good. At least now I won’t have to ask to speak to him. I can go out on the roof, pretend I came to see how the work is progressing and oh, by the way, Ramsey. About the other day…

  I head toward the door to the roof. When I am just in front of it with my hand on the knob, it flies open. I step backwards to avoid getting hit and nearly fall over. Ramsey’s eyes are wide as he reaches out to steady me. He has a pair of sunglasses in his other hand. The reason, I am guessing, he was on the roof less for than a minute.

  “Daisy. I didn’t see you!”

  His hand is on my elbow, holding me steady as I get my balance back. His touch is gentle, but secure.

  “I’m all right,” I mutter.

  He pulls his hand away. “Were you going out onto the roof?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, yes I wanted to see how you’re coming along.”

  “Right now? It’s almost dark.”

  “Well, I just… I…” It’s no good. I can’t lie to him. “Actually, Ramsey, I was coming to apologize to you.”

  He just stares at me for a moment. “Apologize?”

  “If I offended you on the roof the other day when the… when Kristen was here, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention.”

  “Your intention.”

  “I…” I stop and look at him. What exactly does he mean by echoing me like that? “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “Yes. You said that.”

  Oh, Lord, help, help, help. What am I doing wrong here?

  “Did I offend you?” I try to keep my voice steady, but I don’t think I’m successful.

  “You surprised me.”

  “Look, Ramsey. I heard what Kristen said. I shouldn’t have listened to your conversation with her, but I did. Something in me just snapped. I just felt like showing her that you are fine without her. I should’ve minded my own business but honestly I kind of know how you feel. That’s why l did it. I’m sorry.”

  I can’t read anything in his expression. It’s like he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ramsey turns and starts to walk away from me.

  I stand there by the door to the roof watching him.

  He stops after a few steps, turns and nods towards the roof. “I’ll be done tomorrow.” Then he resumes his march to Father Laurent’s door.

  “I said I was sorry!” I call out.

  He turns. “And I said don’t worry about it.”

  Ramsey opens Father’s door, steps inside and it closes behind him. The Finland suddenly seems as still as a tomb.

  Fifty

  Rosalina is proud of our joint effort, I can tell. She is beaming as she looks at Elisabeth Erdahl’s dress. The crushed fabric and lace have been reborn. The wrinkles are gone. The tulle petticoat has been replaced. A crisp hem lines the bottom. The gown looked sallow and lifeless before our hard work. Now it breathes creamy-white elegance.

  “You were right,” I tell her.

  “Of course I was.”

  “It’s a beautiful dress.’

  “Si.”

  I toy with the little blue heart in my fingers, wondering if it’s too brash of me to go up to Father Laurent’s and ask the ailing man to bless it so that Rosalina can sew it into Elisabeth’s dress.

  I’m not unaware that there’s a little blue heart just like it in my pants pocket. The one Father Laurent blessed just for me last month. I feel like pulling it out when I go upstairs and asking him to up his blessing to an extra-strength dose.

  I don’t feel particularly favored at the moment.

  I tell Rosalina I’ll be right back.

  I walk out of the alterations apartment and I head up the stairs. The third floor hallway is quiet. Max is working at his parents’ studio. Sol
omon is giving violin lessons at a parochial school like he does every Monday. Wendy and Philip are still on vacation.

  I inhale and exhale before knocking on Father Laurent’s door. When it opens I plaster a polite smile on my face in case Ramsey is there to greet me.

  But it’s L’Raine on the other side of the door.

  “Hello, Daisy. Come to visit the patient?”

  “L’Raine. What are you doing here?”

  She steps aside and lets me in. “I’m Florence Nightingale today. Ramsey is finishing the roof and I told him I’d keep an eye on his dad and tidy up a bit. You know how bachelors are.”

  L’Raine closes the door behind me. “He’s in the living room.” She disappears into the kitchen. I step into the main room. Father Laurent is on the couch today, reading the newspaper. He looks tired.

  “Good morning, Daisy.”

  “Good morning, Father. How are you feeling today?”

  “A little tired, a little blasé. The doctor said to expect it. It’s not unbearable. How are you?”

  I sink into the chair next to him, the chair he usually sits in. “All right.”

  “No, you’re not.” His tone is gentle.

  I don’t say anything as I lift and lower my shoulders.

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “I tried to apologize but he just said not to worry about it. Like it was no big deal.”

  Father Laurent rubs his chin with his hand. He is thinking. “Do you believe it was no big deal?”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be a big deal. But I think it was. I think it was a big deal. To both of us.”

  “Let me talk to him, Daisy.”

  “Please don’t, Father. He’ll know I’ve been talking to you about him. I don’t think that would go over very well. Please, don’t.”

  He says nothing for a moment. “I hear Reuben’s coming out to see the garden.”

  “Yes. Tomorrow. But Ramsey doesn’t have to move out. Reuben said he’d get a hotel room.”

  “Yes. Your mother mentioned that. But Ramsey doesn’t like the idea. I think he’s planning on leaving later today, Daisy.”

  If Father Laurent is trying to give me advice, I’m not sure what it is.

  “What should I do?” I whisper.

  “Everything your heart tells you,” he whispers back.

  “I don’t know what it is saying.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  I hear L’Raine opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen. She is humming.

  For a moment we are both quiet. Then I show him the little blue heart in my hand.

  “Miss your day job?” I ask.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” His smile is wide and genuine. “Want to tell me about this one?”

  “There is a hundred-year-old dress downstairs that belonged to a mail-order bride. She didn’t know the man she married, but she woke up one morning many months after her wedding and realized she was deeply in love and had been for quite some time. And she wasn’t even aware of when she had fallen for him. Her granddaughter wrote me and told me she never saw two people more in love than her grandparents.”

  Father Laurent smiles. “That’s a lovely story.” He takes the heart from me in one hand and covers it with another. Then he begins to whisper a prayer of consecration. I don’t catch every word. I hear little snippets.

  Love.

  Affection.

  Devotion.

  Trust.

  Blessing.

  Father Laurent smiles and hands the little heart back to me.

  L’Raine sails into the living room. “Tea, Daisy?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got things to take care of.” I stand, lean over Father Laurent and kiss his forehead. “Take it easy.”

  “See you later, Daisy.”

  I leave as L’Raine bustles about the living room, straightening the sections of the newspaper and chattering to Father Laurent about an article she read in Reader’s Digest.

  I tuck Elisabeth’s heart in my back pocket. Mine is in my front pocket.

  I head for the roof.

  I’ve been stealing looks at the roof all along, so it’s not like I’m surprised by what I see when I take the stairs to the top of The Finland and gaze out over all that Ramsey has done.

  Perhaps it’s my knowing that the garden is finished that makes me step back in awe. Or that it’s so beautiful and peaceful. Or that it was Ramsey who created it.

  I walk the stone pathway that circles the roof like the infinity sign, finding my Adirondack chairs at the intersection of the loops. Ramsey has an open toolbox on one of them. I don’t see Ramsey at first. All I see are the colors of Eden. Green, lavender, white, yellow, pink, pale blue. It’s hard to think of this masterpiece as being merely a utility to keep storm water from flooding the gutters and storm sewers.

  I step around the circling shrubs and I finally see Ramsey kneeling at the far end of the roof, pulling off a dead branch.

  I approach quietly. He doesn’t hear me.

  “Hello, Ramsey.” I hope I don’t startle him.

  He snaps his head around. “Oh. Hi.”

  Ramsey stands and brushes his hands against his jeans. “I was just about to come down and get you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m done. I wanted you to see it before I head back to Duluth.”

  “You’re going back?”

  “The owner is coming, I hear. He’ll be needing his apartment. And Dad seems to be tolerating his radiation treatment. I can check in with him by phone. So. Does it meet with your approval?”

  I know he’s talking about the garden. But I want to shout that no, this does not meet with my approval.

  “The garden is absolutely beautiful, Ramsey.” My throat feels sticky.

  “I’m glad you like it.” His voice has taken on an impersonal, professional tone. “I’ve gone over the general maintenance with Mario. He’s all set to manage the plantings. But I will be back once a month as I said in my proposal to check on things. And I might bring a prospective client by to see it from time to time, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course it’s all right.”

  “Great. Well, then. I’ll get my things together and get out of your way.”

  He starts to walk past me and I reach out to touch him. “Ramsey, you’re not in my way.”

  Ramsey looks down at my hand on his arm. I let it fall away.

  “The project is finished. Dad’s doing all right. It’s time for me to go home.” He continues on his way. I follow him.

  “Ramsey, I don’t want you to leave like this.”

  “Like what?” He keeps walking.

  “You’re mad at me!”

  “I’m not mad at you.” He doesn’t turn around.

  We are now at the intersection of the loops. Right by my Adirondack chairs.

  “Will you please at least tell me what it is that I’ve done? Please? What is it that I have done that has so offended you?”

  He turns then, just his head and torso. “You’ve done nothing to me.”

  Before I can mentally process this, Ramsey continues on his way, past the chairs, to the other end of the roof where the stair access is. He disappears down the stairwell. I hear the door open and shut.

  Stunned is a pretty good word for what I’m feeling right now. Stunned out of my mind.

  Why in the world would I be attracted to a man who clearly dislikes me? It defies explanation.

  I just don’t get it.

  All I did was touch his shoulder.

  Yes, it was in front of his ex-wife. But it was just a touch.

  How could that have been so repulsive to him?

  I can’t recall ever disappointing anyone as much as I’ve apparently disappointed Ramsey Laurent.

  I should be insulted. I should be mad at him. I should just write him off.

  But I can’t. I want his forgiveness.

  The air around me is moist
and a light, a humid breeze is tugging at the little branches of my new shrubs. A bird has landed on a bush next to me. She chirps now as if to thank me for giving her such a nice place to hang out.

  Oh, to be a bird without a care in the world.

  I glance down and notice Ramsey’s toolbox on the chair next to me. He will be back for it before he leaves.

  A thought occurs to me as I sit there staring at it.

  I reach into my front pocket and pull out the little heart Father Laurent blessed for me. The one he had been keeping in his own pocket for Ramsey.

  I hold it between my fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whisper over it. Just saying the words makes my eyes sting. I’m not even sure what it is that I have done. But Father Laurent told me to follow my heart’s leading. In my heart I know I have somehow deeply offended Ramsey. And I hate it that I have.

  I lean over to the other chair and tuck the little heart inside the toolbox. I close it shut and place my hand over the top of it.

  What else can I do, Lord. What else can I do?

  Fifty-one

  Dear Harriet,

  I’ve never really thought of myself as an unlikable person. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve got flaws just like everyone else. But I’ve never had anyone truly dislike me for no apparent reason. At least no reason that I can see.

  Yes, there were those mean girls in junior high who made fun of the fact that my parents were as old as their grandparents. But that never felt very personal. Maybe it should have, but it didn’t. I was embarrassed and a little peeved, but I didn’t take it as an insult against my person.

  But this thing with Ramsey. It makes my head spin. Can you honestly still question me about whether or not I’m falling for the wrong man? You want me to define “wrong?”

  Okay, I will.

  Wrong means I am drawn to a guy who doesn’t like being in the same room with me, doesn’t like talking to me, won’t be honest with me and can’t wait to get away from me. Falling in love with a guy like that is falling in love with the wrong guy. I should be falling in love with the guy who does like talking to me, who does want to be in the same room with me and doesn’t keep things from me. That’s the kind of man to fall in love with. That’s the right one.