Johnny Angel (16 page)

She knew his room so well, and him, and his life, all his dreams, and the things he had once hoped for, all the secrets they'd shared with each other.

“I love you, Johnny,” she whispered, and closed her eyes, as he looked at her.

“I love you too, Becky. I always will.” And then as though a force greater than him made him say it, “I want you to be happy. You're going to have a great time in college … and if you want to be with Buzz, and he makes you happy,” he nearly choked on the words but knew he had to say them anyway, “I just want you to have a good life, with him, or someone else. You deserve it, Becky. You know I'll always love you.” She nodded, as though she could hear him, in her head, in her heart, in the dreams they had once shared. She felt peaceful and warm, and after a long time, she got up, and wandered around the room, touching his photographs and treasures and trophies. She stood for a long time, looking at her favorite photograph of him. She had the same one next to her bed at home, but there was one of Buzz there now too. But as she looked at Johnny's picture now, it was as though she could really see him.

“I'll always love you, Johnny,” she whispered, and there were tears in his eyes when he answered her.

“I will too, Becky. Have a great life now,” he told her, and meant it, and she nodded and then wandered to the door of the room, and stood there for a long time. And then, without another word, she left the room, and closed the door silently behind her. She had a sense of peace and freedom and joy that she hadn't had since he died, and when she went to find the others in Charlotte's room, she was smiling as she wiped her eyes. In an odd way, she felt as though she had just said goodbye to Johnny, in a way she could live with. Not with the wrenching agony of six months before, but with a sense of love and peace and letting go. She knew that she would always take him with her now. But she was ready to move on.

The Adamses left at eleven-thirty, just as the Petersons were getting ready to go to midnight mass, and they all hugged and kissed and wished each other a Merry Christmas. The Adams troop drove off in the van Gavin had bought to chauffeur them, and the Petersons waved as they drove off. There were only four of them now. To Charlotte and Jim, it was so obvious that someone was missing. But Johnny was sitting between Charlie and Bobby in the backseat, as his parents chatted, and Jim put on a tape of Christmas carols. In a way, the holidays were painful for all of them this year, but they had to count their blessings too, and lately there had been a lot of them.

Jim dozed through part of the service, and Charlotte fidgeted, as Alice closed her eyes and listened to the music. Every now and then she opened them, and smiled at Bobby and Johnny and Charlie. They were her real Christmas gifts, as Jim was now. She had never been happier with them.

The only thing that marred the day for her was that on the way home she complained to Jim that she had indigestion.

“It's not your ulcer again?” he asked, looking worried. She had been so desperately sick in October that he had nearly lost her, and the memory of that filled him with terror now, but she was quick to reassure him.

“I just ate too much turkey,” she said easily, and Pam's mince pie had been a little heavy. But she forgot about it as they got back to the house, and she started to usher Bobby up to bed. He was wide awake, and he hesitated as she took his hand, and he looked up at her, as though to ask her a question. And she wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it. He just stood there, staring at her, and then at his father, and suddenly she wondered. She looked over at Johnny and he was smiling as he nodded at Bobby. And suddenly Alice understood, as tears filled her eyes, and she looked tenderly at her husband. “I think Bobby has something to say to you,” she said as Jim and Charlotte watched him. Bobby's eyes never left his father's. It was as though it was something he owed him, and had for a long time, and now he was going to give it to him. It was the Christmas gift that would mean more to Jim than any other for the rest of his life.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Bobby said softly, as Jim stared at him and then choked on a sob, as he reached his arms out to him, and held him tight, as the others watched them.

“What happened to you?” Jim asked hoarsely. “How did this happen?” He looked from his son to his wife, as Charlotte cried, and Johnny smiled benevolently on them. He was so proud of all of them, his brother, his dad, Charlie for all she'd done and accomplished, and his mom for all she had endured and believed in, and given.

“I just started talking to…” Bobby caught his mother's eye, which warned him to be careful, and not give away their secret,“… to myself…. I've been practicing since Thanksgiving.”

“And you waited all this time to tell me?”

“I had to,” Bobby said with a smile, “you weren't ready.” Jim pondered the meaning of his words for a moment, and then nodded agreement.

“Maybe I wasn't. But I am now.” It was as though the last five painfully silent years had vanished in a single moment.

“I love you, Dad,” Bobby whispered as his father held him.

“I love you too, son,” Jim said, taking his hand, and the two walked up the stairs, hand in hand, and Alice watched them, feeling the true wonder of Christmas.

Chapter 11

On Christmas morning
, Bobby came thundering down the stairs to find his presents under the tree, and a few minutes later, Charlotte and his parents joined them. Jim had bought Charlotte all kinds of sports equipment that she had wanted, including an automatic ball machine, so she could practice hitting that spring. It was something he knew she longed for.

And he had bought Alice a sweater set, a new coat, and a gold bracelet. And she loved all of it. She had given him a beautiful new leather briefcase, and a suede jacket he had seen and wanted. And he loved it.

Bobby got a small mountain of toys that Johnny had helped their mother pick out for him, and he loved every one of them, and was happily putting together parts, and inserting batteries to make them work five minutes later. Their gifts were all a big success. And it was only when she was cooking breakfast for all of them, the banana waffles they ate every year on Christmas morning, that Alice felt sick again. She knew it was from excitement and the nagging worry now that Johnny would soon be going. But she tried not to think of it as she served them the breakfast they loved every year. And when she turned to look at him, she noticed that Johnny was looking tired. He had done so much work for all of them that it had exhausted him, but he seemed to be in good spirits, when he stood over her, practically drooling for her waffles.

“I sure wish I could eat them, Mom,” he said, looking like a kid again, and Alice smiled at him, wishing he could too. She wished a lot of things, that he had never died, that he could stay here now, that she could hold on to him forever, but she knew she couldn't. And it wouldn't have been fair to him. He had to go on, to do what he was meant to. It was his destiny. But it didn't seem fair to her that he had died, that he had been so young when he left them.

Jim and Charlotte had second helpings of the waffles, while Bobby chattered constantly, explaining his new toys to them, how they worked, and how to assemble them, as his father smiled broadly.

“He's sure making up for lost time, isn't he?” Jim said after their children left the kitchen, except for Johnny, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the dizzying aroma of his mother's waffles. She hadn't eaten any this year, she had just picked at them, but none of them had noticed. Except Johnny. “Why do you suppose he started talking again?” Jim asked, as he looked admiringly at her. Alice had never looked more beautiful to him, as he leaned over and kissed her. “What do you suppose did it?” he persisted about Bobby. For him, it was like the ultimate absolution. Bobby had paid for five years for his father's stupidity, and now he was free of what had seemed to Jim like a curse on all of them. It was the most perfect blessing.

“I think a miracle did it,” Alice said simply, and Jim didn't disagree with her. He was just grateful it had happened.

He went to watch a football game then, and Charlotte joined him, as Alice puttered around the kitchen, and eventually Bobby went to sit with them, dragging half his toys with him.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Johnny asked her, looking worried.

“I'm fine,” she said more out of habit than truth. She wasn't feeling terrific, but she didn't want to worry him. She knew it was her stomach again, and she hated the thought that she might be getting another ulcer. But she had no intention of saying that and ruining Christmas for him, or the others. “Honest, it's nothing.”

“I'm not as sure of that as you are,” Johnny said, sounding very grown up. “You'd better go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“I will if it still bothers me,” she promised.

They spent a lazy afternoon, eating and watching TV, and that night, she cooked the traditional ham that she always made for them at Christmas. Her appetite wasn't great, and she was distracted as she served the dinner. But all afternoon, she had been haunted by the realization that the miracles they'd experienced and the blessings they'd shared had been too numerous. There was nothing left for Johnny to do now. Becky had her scholarship and a new boyfriend who was good to her. Pam had met a wonderful man, who loved her, and her kids, and they were getting married. Charlotte and Jim were closer than anyone could ever have dreamed of. He had stopped drinking. Bobby had started talking. And she had had nearly three months with the son she loved and who had been taken from her, with no warning, all too quickly. They had each had priceless gifts that would change the course of their lives forever. There was nothing left to do. And the more she thought of it, the more she knew that Johnny would have to leave soon. And the prospect of it made her heart ache.

“You're leaving, aren't you?” she asked him when they were alone in the kitchen after dinner. Everything was put away, and it had been a long, comfortable day. Even Johnny's absence hadn't been as painful as usual, for Jim and Charlotte. They seemed to be adjusting to it, and Johnny had explained to Bobby, right from the beginning, that he would leave again one day. He was just there for a little visit.

“Probably, Mom,” Johnny said honestly. “We'll know when it's the right time. You will too. I told you, you'll be ready.” He sounded so certain of it, but she hadn't liked his answer.

“Then it's not the right time,” she said, sounding younger than he did, “because I'm not ready. This is going to hurt too much,” she said, as tears spilled onto her cheeks, and Johnny looked at her sadly.

“Don't cry, Mom. I won't be far away. You know that.”

“I want you here, just like you have been.”

“I know you do. So do I. We all do. But I can't do that. They won't let me. I have to go back.” His stay for the past several months had been the ultimate gift.

“That's mean of them,” she said, as he put his arms around her. “We need you … I need you … and Bobby and Dad, and Charlie.”

“I love you,” he said simply, and for an instant, she got a glimmer of what that meant. The words seemed enormous suddenly, like the feelings that went with them. Bigger than she'd ever imagined they could be. The words were like clouds that enveloped her, and cushioned all the pain she'd ever felt, or been afraid of, since the beginning of time.

“You look tired,” she said, looking up at him. “And you know I love you too.”

“Yes, I do, Mom. I always knew that.” She was relieved to hear it. They stood and hugged for a long moment, and then walked slowly out of the kitchen to find the others. Everyone was looking full and tired and sleepy. And a little while later, they all walked upstairs together, wished each other a Merry Christmas again, and went to their own rooms.

She and Jim went to bed early, and the kids were already asleep, as they lay there talking about what a nice Christmas it had been, despite the painful reality of Johnny's absence. And she felt a little guilty when Jim mentioned it, because only she and Bobby knew that Johnny had been there with them.

“You know, I feel good about him. As though he's in a happy place. I don't know why, but I just feel that,” Jim said, as they lay in the dark, with his arm around her.

“So do I,” she said with a sigh, and then they just lay side by side and held each other. And a little while later, Jim fell asleep, but Alice just couldn't. She was wide awake, no matter how tired she was, or how long the day had been. All she could think of tonight was Johnny. And long after midnight, she got up finally, and walked out into the hallway. She was going to go back downstairs and make herself a cup of warm milk to drink, to soothe her nerves and calm her stomach. And just as she came out of her room, she saw Johnny come out of Charlotte's bedroom. He had been with her for a long time, and held her hand as she fell asleep, and she was smiling now, dreaming of him.

He had been in Bobby's room with him before that, and they'd had a long talk, about what it meant to go on, and take the people you love with you in your heart.

“You're going away again, aren't you?” Bobby had asked him, but he hadn't looked worried about it. It was as though he understood, even though he was a child.

“Yes, I am.” Johnny was always honest with him.

“Will you come back again?” Bobby's eyes were wide with wonder.

“Maybe, but I don't think so.”

“Thank you for helping me talk again,” Bobby said, and they held each other for a long time. Bobby would always remember his brother, and in many ways, he was a lot like him.

Johnny was telling his mother about it, as they started down the stairs, and then he stopped and went to his room, and looked around for a minute. He was going to miss all of them, he knew, as much as they missed him. And he reminded his mother to give Bobby his varsity jacket when he was big enough to wear it. And Charlotte could borrow it in the meantime. Tears sprang to her eyes the minute he said it. It was time for good-byes again. And she had never wanted to say good-bye to him the first time, she had refused to. Maybe that was why he had come back to them, because she had refused to let him go. Or maybe he had come back to attend to unfinished business. But he had finished all of it. All the loose ends were tied up, so neatly and so well, like everything he had done in life. In three months, he had done so much for so many people. Alice couldn't help thinking how blessed they had all been.