Pewter Angels (24 page)

F
or the next two
weeks, the pattern repeated itself. Henry woke at seven, had breakfast, went to school with Timmy and Gary, came home, worked at the store, came home, asked if any mail had come for him, had supper, and wrote to Jenny. If time permitted, he studied too. Immersing himself in work and letter-writing and studying was the only way he could cope. Some days he took his frustrations out on Eddy in the gym, but that soon lost its numbing effect.
You can’t solve one problem by creating another
, he thought. Yet he didn’t know how else to deal with the fact that Jenny hadn’t yet written. And he had no way to reach her to find out what was happening. His heart ached with each passing no-letter-from-Jenny day.

One morning as he passed Jenny’s house on his way to school, he noticed the elastic that he and Jenny had used to leave each other notes under was still wrapped around the post. Soon the sun, wind and rain would weaken and break it, leaving no trace of the purpose that piece of rubber had served. It, at least, was a tangible reminder of Jenny’s existence, of her feelings for him. He stretched it over the newel post, astonished to find a bit of paper twisted around it.

The note was partially torn and still damp from the series of showers they’d had, and the elastic snapped as he unraveled the paper. Henry was thankful it had held up this well. The thought of Jenny’s last note blowing off in the wind without ever seeing it sent a chill down his spine.

He walked through the gate to the front steps of the empty house and sat down, pretending Jenny was beside him. His hands trembled as he opened the note. Some of the ink had run, smudging bits and pieces of the words. As Henry’s eyes filled with tears the whole letter blurred.

“Oh, Henry,”

My heart just aches and I feel like it’s being torn in two. Being with you has made this the happiest summer of my life. The thought of not seeing you anymore is more than I can bear.

Always remember: true love lasts forever, it never says goodbye, “for you and I have a guardian angel on high with nothing to do but to give to you and to give to me love forever true.”

Jenny

p.s. If you were a heart, I’d want mine to beat inside yours.

It was as if Jenny were right beside him. He could hear her singing the words from “True Love” in his imagination. Somehow Henry wasn’t surprised that she’d remembered the song lyrics from their first date just as he had. And her postscript made him ache to hold her, to kiss her, to feel her warmth, and, yes, to have her heart beat next to his.

Henry wiped tears from his eyes. He brought the note up to press it to his lips. A faint breath of lilacs rose from the scrap of paper and Henry recalled the walks they’d shared when they’d first met and how Jenny loved the smell of those blooms. It was her favourite perfume. He wished he had discovered the note earlier—the rain had washed most of the scent away.

He read the note again and again. It was a Godsend, giving him something more to hang onto. The words of the song lifted him …
for you and I have a guardian angel on high with nothing to do but to give to you and to give to me
… “Yes,” whispered Henry and silently sent a prayer of thanks heavenward. Henry sat on the steps for over an hour, unwilling to let go of the moment. It was the first time in days he had truly felt any kind of relief.

The morning sun peeked around the front corner of the house. The grass and fallen yellow and orange leaves glittered as the sun spread golden rays across the front lawn and sparkled off the tips of the white points of the picket fence like a row of candles, warming Henry’s spirits.

Henry was so immersed in the world Jenny and he had shared that the thought of school never entered his mind. By the time it did, he was already very late and his eyes, he was sure, were too red. Besides, the Coca-Cola man was going to deliver the new sign for the store today. He decided to go see if he could help.

When he got to the store, the sign was already in the process of being attached to a steel rod workers had secured to the building. Mr. Engelmann was surprised to see him, but after one of his analytical looks, only asked that Henry call his mother right away to tell her where he was.

It took all morning and most of the afternoon to install the sign and get the electrical working. Finally, the sign flickered on. Oh, the Coca-Cola logo was part of it, but the highlight was the red and black lettering covering the centre of the sign:
Engelmann’s Grocery & Confectionary
. The sign lit up like a Christmas tree for all the neighbourhood to see. It was hard to tell whether he or Mr. Engelmann was more proud. As sick as she was, Anna came out to look too. She could hardly contain herself. Even before she turned to look at the sign, tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, David,” she said. “Oh, Henry.” She stood beside them, gazing up, speechless.

Henry admired the crisp clean look; the fresh white paint, the new sign. He wondered how it would look with red trim around the windows and a red door to match. When he’d picked up more white paint at the paint store the other day, he’d seen a gallon of red there, too. The red trim would be the perfect finishing touch.

The next day Henry went to Northern Paint. The gallon of red was still there and had been for a long while. The store manager was ready to throw it out.

“You know what? Just take it,” he’d said when Henry asked if he could buy it.

When Henry opened the can back at the grocery store, he was amazed to discover that the colour almost perfectly matched the red in the sign. He painted the frame of one of the windows and then called Mr. Engelmann to see if he liked it too.

“Very good, Henry! How can anyone miss our store now?”

“That’s the whole idea, Mr. Engelmann. We want everyone to know we’re here.” Henry liked the way Mr. Engelmann had said “our store” as if Henry was a part owner. And in a sense it was true. Henry
did
feel like the store was his and felt proud and motivated to improve it.

And so it went for the next week: painting and landscaping to enhance the store’s appearance. Customers raved about the improvements. The red sign and the red front door drew most of the favourable comments. They were using colour to market the store and didn’t even realize it until customers who’d been going to Safeway began to refrequent Mr. Engelmann’s store.

Only the old grey crate at the back of the store—Mr. Engelmann’s school of life—remained untouched. Henry didn’t want to disturb anything that might interfere with the way he and Mr. Engelmann talked back there.

Both were amazed how the business improved. It was like the neighbourhood, caught up in the store’s revival, was proud to be part of it. Customers talked about Henry and how he’d helped Mr. Engelmann improve the store. Even Mr. Mahoney, the city tax man, heard what they’d done and came to check it out.

Henry was extremely happy to see Mr. Engelmann give Mr. Mahoney another cheque towards what he owed the city. Henry beamed with pride when Mr. Engelmann told the city official it was his good fortune that Henry had come along when he did: “He is my right hand man,” Henry’s boss had said. Henry, busy helping a customer, just beamed.

Mr. Mahoney looked at Henry for a long moment as he had on previous visits, then turned back to Mr. Engelmann. “I see what you mean. Perhaps my earlier assessment was premature.”

Henry was more excited about going to work than going to school. He loved the business, and the challenge of improving it and making it profitable. If it hadn’t been for his job, he didn’t know how he would have coped with Jenny’s leaving.

But walking with his friends
to school during the last week of September, Henry’s feeling of abandonment only increased.

“Geez, Gary, I’m really going to miss you! Why don’t you wait until the end of the year to go to Notre Dame?”

“Well, Dad wants me to attend military college after Grade 12 and figures Notre Dame will toughen me up and better prepare me and ‘the sooner, the better,’ he says.”

“Yeah, I heard the headmaster there has a reputation of being a really tough guy … and he’s even a priest.”

“But that’s an all boy’s school,” chimed in Timmy. “That’s no fun.”

“That’s not correct, Tim. Both girls and boys attend and students come from all over, not just Saskatchewan..”

“Well that’s good, I’d hate to think the guys would have to invite their mothers for school dances,” Timmy smirked, trying to cover up his ignorance.

The guys laughed.

“So when are you leaving, Gary?” Henry asked.

“This will be my last week here. Dad’s coming home for the weekend and we’re all driving out to Wilcox on Saturday.”

“That sucks, Gary. Really sucks.”

“We’re sure gonna miss you, buddy,” Henry added.

“Well, the one nice thing is that the college is only twenty-five miles from Regina, so I’ll be home some weekends.”

“That’s good. Maybe when I get my driver’s license Timmy and I can come out to see you.”

“That’d be swell, Hank.”

Henry wanted to talk about some of the great times they’d had in the past, especially the war games they played in Gary’s backyard. But maybe they were getting to old to talk about that stuff. Still, if Timmy hadn’t been there, he would have.

A silence fell over the boys as they walked along, each absorbed in his own thoughts about their impending separation, at least until Timmy blurted out, “Geez I can’t
wait
for this morning’s math class, I’ve really got the hots for that teacher.”

At least some things never change
, Henry thought as they laughed again. They turned onto the walk leading to Balfour’s front doors. It didn’t seem like Timmy really understood what was happening. The three of them had been together since grade school and now, just like Jenny, their best friend was leaving. It all made Henry’s guts twist.

Ever since Henry had started working at Engelmann’s store, he and Timmy didn’t hang out as much. Even at school, Timmy seemed to chum around more with other guys. Funny, Henry thought, he didn’t mind that they were drifting apart, but it did bother him that Gary was leaving … he was a truer friend in more ways than one.

Three weeks and still
no letter. What could possibly have happened? She’d promised to write.

Every night after work, Henry wrote a letter to Jenny. He had written sixteen so far, but with no address they just collected in his drawer. As he sat at his desk that night, almost at the end of another letter, he just had to pose the questions that troubled his heart.

Dear Jenny,

Have you found someone new? Are you just too busy with your new school or friends and that’s why you haven’t written? Not knowing is worse than knowing. If you want to break up, or take some time to see if you want to still want to be my girlfriend, please let me know. The silence is killing me.

As Henry sat there, he couldn’t help but think how drastically his life had changed that summer. He’d been so bored before Jenny had entered his life. Then there’d been joy and love and new experiences. She had awakened a part of him that had been asleep. He bloomed into manhood when near her, soared like an eagle at the touch of her hand, ached when they had to part for the day. If only he hadn’t needed sleep!

Then, almost overnight, those happy feelings of exhilaration had been replaced by loss and sorrow. It was as though a stone now grew in his heart, its weight swelling with each passing day.

Life is so unfair
. Henry suddenly felt older and emptier. A whole lifetime of meeting and loving someone as beautiful and wonderful as Jenny had been crammed into two short months.

He let his head fall on his arms. Tears that had been dammed inside surfaced and filled his eyes to overflowing as if fed from an underground spring. His chest heaved and throbbed against the edge of the desk. Despair washed over him.

Oh, Jenny where are you? Where have you gone? What has happened to you … to us? Where has it all gone?