Pewter Angels (23 page)

How can good come from Jenny leaving?
Sometimes Henry just didn’t understand things.

Again, Mr. Engelmann read Henry’s mind. “The older you grow, the more you will see how the Lord works and turns the seemingly most cruel things around to make good of them. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, Henry, and don’t lean on your own understanding. He will look after you. After all, hasn’t He already sent His guardian angels to look after us?”

Henry liked those last few words, and hung onto them. Their guardian angels would bring him and Jenny together again, he just knew it.

From inside came the faint tinkle of the bell that indicated someone had just entered the store. Mr. Engelmann patted Henry’s shoulder. “I have to go in now. Anna needs her rest. I know this will be difficult for you, Henry, but you will adjust. You will be able to handle it and it will all work out for the good.”

“Thanks for taking the time to talk, Mr. Engelmann.”

Mr. Engelmann patted Henry’s knee and pushed himself up, “You cannot share your heart in a hurry, Henry.”

After Mr. Engelmann went in, Henry thought about what he had said. The old man hadn’t given him a pat answer or definite solution, yet the way he spoke and the examples he gave put everything back into perspective somehow. For the first time since Jenny had told him the news, Henry actually worked up a smile, confident that he could now better handle the situation. The helplessness he felt began to lift. The huge block of ice that had weighed him down and chilled him to the bone melted and lightened, thawed not only by the hot rays of the sun, but by the reassuring warmth of Mr. Engelmann’s words. Time, acceptance and trust in God were what he had to help him. He only needed to take one day at a time.

Mr. Engelmann was writing up an order when Henry entered. When he looked up, Henry said, “I’ve decided to start painting the front of the store.”

Mr. Engelmann nodded and smiled.

Henry headed out front and examined the weathered boards. Most of the paint had dried up and chipped away after years of exposure to the harsh prairie elements. Henry decided to start by washing the windows, then he’d scrape off the rest of the old paint clinging to the siding. He brought up the painting supplies from the basement and got to work.

By five o’clock,
Henry had cleaned the windows, scraped off the siding and painted half the storefront. People complimented him as they came and went. The transformation was incredible. One side was bright white and new, while the other side remained weathered and old.

Mr. Engelmann came out and gasped. “Henry, what have you done? It does not even look like the same store! It’s like a magic wand has touched this side of the building.” He patted his employee’s shoulder, “Well done, Henry. You are renewing our store and making an old man feel happy and young again.”

Now it was Mr. Engelmann’s turn to hide his tears. Before he went in, Henry heard him say, “Wait until my Anna sees this— it’ll put a spring in her step!”

Henry cleaned up and called good night to Mr. Engelmann. He hoped he could see Jenny again before she left.

W
ith his mind still on Jenny
, it took a few minutes for Henry to notice the darkly ominous sky above him. The distinctive smell of rain and the wall of water off in the distance told Henry a storm was headed their way. Clouds as black as night rolled overhead, leaving only a single pinpoint of sunlight. That tiny spark of light mirrored the hope he clung to for Jenny and him. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than the wind shifted and the clouds shut tight.

Henry hopped on his bike and pedalled furiously home. There was a taxi in front of Jenny’s place. Wasn’t it a bit early for Jenny and her dad to be going to the airport? He got off his bike, leaned it against the fence and walked towards the taxi. Jenny’s front door suddenly opened and Mr. Sarsky stepped out, carrying a large suitcase. Jenny followed with a smaller suitcase, her mother close behind. As they made their way through the gate and onto the street, Jenny saw him.

“Henry, you came!” she cried, her eyes brightening. Her suitcase thudded to the ground.

Jenny’s mother took her arm, “No, don’t, Jenny. We have to go.”

Ignoring her mother’s command, Jenny broke loose and ran towards Henry. Mrs. Sarsky started after her, but Mr. Sarsky grabbed his wife’s arm. “Just leave her be.”

Tears streamed down Jenny’s face as she ran to Henry. When she reached him, she flung her arms around his neck. Henry closed his eyes and held her tightly, imprinting her lilac scent in his memory, the feel of her body against his.

Jenny tried to catch her breath. “Oh, Henry,” she said, the words coming in gasps, “I love you so much. I don’t want to go. I’ll write to you, right away.”

“I will, too,” he said, “I promise.”

Jenny stood on her tiptoes for one last kiss. Mrs. Sarsky, face as angry as the dark sky above, appeared behind Jenny. She snatched at her daughter, jerking her back and breaking their embrace. “Come right this minute, Jenny,” she ordered. “The plane is leaving in an hour and you still have to check in.”

“Just one more minute, Mom,” Jenny pleaded. “Please, we have to—”

“No! We have to go now!” She yanked again, hard, nearly tossing Jenny to the ground. Jenny stumbled and her mother tugged her to the waiting taxi her as if she were a rag doll, Jenny looking over her shoulder at Henry the whole time. He stared back at her, helpless, not knowing what to do.

“I’ll write! I love you!” she called.

“I love you too, Jenny,” Henry mouthed. This goodbye sure wasn’t endearing him to Jenny’s parents, he could tell. The Sarskys were already concerned about how close he and Jenny had grown in such a short time, and seeing him and Jenny kiss like that in front of them would probably only add to Mrs. Sarsky’s conviction and determination to keep them apart. And Mrs. Sarsky proved it as she shot him another unfriendly glance.

By that time, Mr. Sarsky had loaded his suitcase in the taxi and had retrieved Jenny’s from where she’d dropped it. The cab driver held the back door open, waiting for Mrs. Sarsky and Jenny to get into the cab.

Jenny’s mother pushed her into the back seat. Jenny tried to see Henry, but the back seat was crowded and she had trouble turning all the way around. Henry ran forward, trying to say a final goodbye. He waved, hoping Jenny could see him.

Jenny leaned forward past her mother and looked out the window. Their gazes met and locked for the last time as the taxi sped off, dust from the road hiding the rear window as the car sped down the street.

By the time the dust settled, the taxi was gone and so was Jenny. Henry was numb. He stared straight ahead, his heart as empty as the street. He tried to recall the words of comfort his mother had said to him at lunchtime and the hope he’d felt after his talk with Mr. Engelmann that afternoon, but nothing could penetrate his utter despair. He was, quite simply, devastated. He could see no future without Jenny. The past few weeks had been so full, so exciting, and so loving. The only thing ahead of him now was emptiness.

Then the warmth of a soft hand touched his shoulder. His mother, watching from behind the curtain of the living room window, had held back until she, like Henry, could no longer carry the weight of the moment alone. So in tune was Mary with the heartbreak her son was feeling, she needed his comfort almost as much as he needed hers.

“It’ll be okay,” his mother whispered, hoping it would be true. At her words, Henry’s dam of tears broke for the second time that day, just as the first drops of rain tumbled from the heavens.

Henry looked towards what had been Jenny’s house. With both doors closed and no light inside, the life of the home was gone. What had brightened all his days would be only an empty reminder of what had been. There would be no more calling on Jenny for school or holding hands or the bright sound of her laughter.

A bolt of lightning streaked across the blackened sky, followed by a thunderous clap, as if the sky itself released a cry of gut-wrenching pain. The storm was almost upon them, growing more foreboding. Lightning and thunder alternated in succession so that it was no longer possible to tell which lightning streak was responsible for which thunder clap. The winds howled and drove the raindrops like pellets against their skin.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” his mother urged. “It’s going to pour any second now.”

They turned in unison, Henry with his mother’s arm around him, guiding him. Raindrops fell faster and in greater numbers, providing a distraction and welcome relief from his troubled thoughts until it was raining so hard Henry couldn’t see the front door only a few yards away. Tiny beads of hail mixed with the rain to bounce off the stairs and sidewalk. Just before Mary guided him through the door, Henry looked up at the sky, begging the storm to drive out the distressing thoughts so firmly rooted in his mind.

They were soaking wet, hair plastered against their scalps, clothes stretched and drooping. They stood in the hallway in a growing puddle of dripping water. In spite of the choking sadness, Henry smiled at his mom, soaked from head to foot. His mother chuckled through her tears. It was one of those rare moments when conflicting feelings coexist with ease. It was exactly the respite Henry needed; a momentary chance to stand back and allow the healing process to begin.

His mother put her arms around him and kissed his wet cheek. “You best go to bed early tonight,” she said. “It’s been a very tough day for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Henry murmured. He turned and walked down the hallway to his room, leaving wet footprints behind on the hardwood floor.

Around eleven o’clock
as Mary headed to bed, she noticed a light shining under the bottom of Henry’s bedroom door. She gently knocked and waited for an answer. When there was no response, she opened the door to find him slouched over his desk, head resting on his arm, sound asleep. She shook him softly, trying to wake him.

“Come on now, Henry. Time for bed.” She tugged at him, gentle but persistent, until he finally wobbled to his feet in a sleepy daze. A pen dropped from his hand onto the desk, the chair he was seated on slid backwards and almost toppled over. Mary held him until he was close enough to the bed that he flopped onto it almost in reflex.
Poor boy
, she thought. At least he was so emotionally drained he couldn’t help but sleep deeply. She covered him with an extra blanket, tucking it around him as she had since he was small.

As Mary reached to turn out his desk lamp, she hesitated for a long moment, then allowed her eyes to wander over the words he had written before falling asleep.

Dear Jenny,

I miss you so much already. I hated to see you go. I so wanted to kiss you just once more before you left. You are my one and only love. I don’t know how I can live without you. Please come back soon.

I love you!

Love,

Henry

Mary clicked off the light and the darkness hid the stain of her teardrop that had fallen on Henry’s very first love letter.

H
is eyes felt swollen
and his stomach muscles ached, and at first he didn’t know why. It took him a few moments to wake up and then the loss hit him.

Jenny
.

She was gone and his life would never be the same. How was he ever going to get over it? Again, Henry felt himself slipping into despair; the day seemed doomed to be cheerless and miserable, and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of it.

Just as panic began to get a foothold, he remembered Mr. Engelmann’s words:
there was always a choice
. He could choose to be happy or sad, to feel sorry for himself or focus on the bright things, on the possibilities of life rather than the negatives— which would only make him depressed and get him absolutely nowhere. Henry struggled to focus on that thought. For added strength he asked God and his guardian angel to help him, the way Mr. Engelmann did every morning.

What would improve the situation? Nothing. A life without Jenny was a life not worth living.
There I go again!
He wrenched his mind back to his decision to focus on the positive, on
now
, and then after a moment, it occurred to him that Jenny wasn’t gone for good; they were only separated by distance. He started to think of her as being on vacation, away only for awhile. And it
would
be fun to write letters back and forth. Some things might even be easier to say in a letter. And, as Mr. Engelmann had said, time was a great healer and passed quickly. In no time, he and Jenny would be back together again, and he would just have to make the best of it until then.

He took a deep breath and started to feel better. Maybe he could make it through the day. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to his desk. There was the first letter he would send to Jenny as soon as she wrote him with her new address. He looked it over. It expressed what was in his heart. There was a water stain on the paper and he rubbed it absently with his finger, thinking of the feel of her skin.
Yes
, he concluded,
it will be exciting to write back and forth to each other.

Henry went to the bathroom, barely recognizing the face that stared back at him from the mirror. His eyes were still red and puffy from crying. He couldn’t go to school looking like this. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would take down the swelling. It didn’t. But the cold water felt good so he did it another couple of times.

His mother was washing dishes when he arrived in the kitchen. Henry was relieved that his father had already gone to work and wouldn’t see how hard he had been crying, how unmanly he’d been.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Good morning, Henry. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I was really wiped out.”

She came over and kissed his cheek, ruffling his hair a bit with her hand before smoothing it back. “Well, sit down and I’ll make you your favourite breakfast.”

Henry smiled at her. Her eyes were as red and swollen as his. She’d been crying too, sharing his loss and heartbreak.

“Thanks, Mom, I
am
a bit hungry. Guess I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“I know.”

As Henry ate his eggs and bacon, he told her what Mr. Engelmann had said to him about choices and looking on the positive side of things, and that he believed he and Jenny would be together again.

His mom’s eyes brightened as he spoke. Her boy was growing into such a thoughtful man. And she’d have to remember to thank Mr. Engelmann for his caring words; that job was turning out to be a real blessing for Henry. But all she said was, “That’s pretty good advice.”

“Is it okay if I don’t go to school today? I look awful, and I don’t think I can concentrate on anything right now anyway. Besides, I want to finish painting Mr. Engelmann’s storefront. I started yesterday and it looks really good.”

Mary reflected on his request for a moment before answering. “Well, I guess one day won’t hurt. But you have to go back tomorrow for sure.”

“I promise, Mom.” He got up and kissed her cheek.

Henry got his bike and wheeled it out the front gate, glancing over at what had been Jenny’s house. It looked silent, vacant, all the life …. Before his thoughts got the better of him, he hopped on his bike and peddled to the store as fast as he could. Maybe he could outrun his feelings. Maybe the wind in his face would blow the seeds of depression away from his mind so they couldn’t take root again.

When Henry rode up to the store, Anna and Mr. Engelmann were standing outside, admiring the newly painted clapboard siding of the storefront. When they saw him, Mr. Engelmann called out, “Look, Anna. Here comes the master painter!”

“This looks so nice, Henry,” Anna said as Henry got off his bike. “You are making us very happy and proud of the store again. And David tells me you get the paint at such a bargain. I never heard of such a thing.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Engelmann. Getting the paint was no problem at all.” Henry told them he had his mom’s permission to work there for the day instead of going to school.

Mr. Engelmann took in his appearance but merely said, “That will be fine, Henry. If your mom says okay, then it’s all right with Anna and me.”

With that, Henry went to get the paint and brush from the basement. By noon he had finished the lower part of the front of the store. He’d need a ladder to do the second storey. A neighbour down the street had one that was tall enough, but Mr. Engelmann felt the second storey was too high for Henry to do; he’d hire another painter to do that part and asked Henry to paint only the sides and back of the store, going only as high as he could with the eight-foot ladder.

Henry began to work on the east side of the store after lunch. It was very hot. With no cloud cover, the sun burned down in all its fury; the wind seemed to have taken the day off, too. Not even the leaves on the trees rustled. The only consolation was that he’d be working in the shade for most of the afternoon.

As he painted, Henry thought of Jenny, wondering if it was this hot in Ottawa and how she was adjusting to her new home and school. He wondered what it would be like to live in Ontario. Cities there were much bigger than in Saskatchewan. And Ottawa was the country’s capital—there was sure to be more to see and do there than here. He made a mental note to ask Jenny those things in his next letter.

The paint went on easily in the shade, and by five o’clock he had finished the first coat on the entire east side of the store. He could do the second coat the next day after school. The store looked a lot better already and again people had commented how nice it looked as they walked by. Henry got great satisfaction from seeing something transformed and become more beautiful.

The front yard of the store was about fifteen feet from the city sidewalk. A four-foot walk split the lawn area in front of the store in two equal halves. But the lawn had been neglected and trampled over. Scraggly patches of weeds and grass had grown tall and turned to seed. When Mr. Engelmann came out to assess his progress, Henry told him he’d clear it all out—he’d had lots of practice at Mrs. Goronic’s over the years, after all. He also mentioned that a strip of flowers in front of the store would look good.

“Yes, yes, that would be nice. Anna loves to garden and could probably manage a small flowerbed. Why didn’t I think of that?”

They walked around to the east corner of the building and admired the fresh paint. It looked pretty impressive.

When Mr. Engelmann spoke, his words were quiet and sincere. “Henry, you are changing the store. You are a good painter for such a young man. You are always thinking about how to improve things and make them look better. Someday you will be a very successful businessman.”

“Thank you,” Henry answered. He was just glad he’d had something else to think about. It was the best he’d felt in two days. “Well, I think I’ll head home now, Mr. Engelmann.”

“Yes, you have worked very hard and now need some rest. By the way, did Jenny and her parents get away yesterday?”

“Yeah, they left last night.” Henry wasn’t sure he wanted to relive their departure.

“You miss her?”

“I do.” The words came out on a troubled sigh.

Mr. Engelmann put his arm around Henry and repeated almost the same words his mom had told him the night before.

“It will be okay, Henry. Things have a way of working out.” He patted Henry’s shoulder.

“I sure hope so.”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow after school. Thank you again for the fine job you did today.”

Henry ran into the house
, and before his mom could say hello, he asked, “Did I get any mail today?”

His mother just smiled. “No, not today. I don’t think any mail from Jenny will come until at least next week, if that’s what you’re waiting for. How was your day?”

“It was very hot, but I painted the store on the shady side. It looks really good.”

“Hello, son,” his father called from the living room.

That was odd. His dad wasn’t usually home this early.

“Oh, hi, Dad.”

“Well, you better wash up and get ready for supper,” his mom suggested.

“Sure, Mom.”

After supper, Henry went outside and sat on the steps. A man came out of Jenny’s house and walked towards his car. When Henry stood up he noticed the
For Sale
sign in the front window. Mrs. Sarsky hadn’t wasted any time.
This is for real
, he told himself.

Henry turned and went inside, directly to his room. He sat down at his desk and began a second letter to Jenny. It was his only link to her now, the only way to be close to her. When he finished, he placed it in the top drawer of his desk. From the bottom drawer, he pulled out the twelve notes Jenny had left him on the fence-post over the summer and read and reread them, caressing each one.