Pewter Angels (30 page)

Michael took the letter and reached for the furnace door again. He and Elaine braced themselves for a repeat of the fiery blast, but as Mike opened the door, they were surprised to see that the fire had settled, as if the envelopes had somehow tamed the burning hell raging behind the heavy steel door. They could scarcely believe their eyes; the gentle flames seemed almost peaceful.

They watched as the last letter landed at the base of the brick-lined opening and slowly lit up. As the letter burned, it twisted open, arching itself towards them as if it wanted to be read.

The name
Henry
glowed and grew clear in the last moments before the letter fell to ash.

She recognized the name. Jenny spent a few minutes waiting for her father from time to time and had been quite talkative about a boy named Henry back in Regina. It was clear she hadn’t wanted to leave Regina because of him. But what did a boy two provinces away have to do with Mr. Sarsky’s drinking problem? If only she had kept the letter, the pieces that puzzled her would have quickly come together.

Unsure if Michael had also seen the name, but unwilling to take the chance of anything private being leaked, Elaine cautioned him, “Thank you for your help, Michael. Please don’t mention this to anyone.”

Michael led her back to the elevator, pausing only to say, “Well, I hope that’s the last of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mr. Sarsky was down here last week burning another bunch of letters. And that was the third time in the last three months.”

“Did he do it himself ?”

“Yes, he insisted on doing it himself.”

Elaine only nodded but inside she was nervous. What was going on? She regretted more than ever not keeping that last letter. It might have made all the difference.

E
ach day henry rushed home
, hoping a letter was waiting for him, and each day his mother had the difficult task of telling him that none had come. Each time Henry went to work he asked Mr. Engelmann if he had heard from Mr. Sarsky, and Mr. Engelmann always gave him the same answer his mother did.

If it weren’t for school and the demands of his job at the store, he would have easily slipped into another serious state of despondency.

One afternoon Mr. Engelmann reminded him of their agreement. “Remember your promise to me when we decided to send the box of letters?” Mr. Engelmann asked, looking into Henry’s eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Henry replied, recalling the details all too well. “I won’t ask you again.”

“No!” Mr. Engelmann said. “You can ask me over and over again, but be prepared for an answer you may not like or want to hear. The fact that you have received no reply from either Jenny or Mr. Sarsky might, in fact,
be
your answer. And you will have to accept it.”

Mr. Engelmann paused before continuing. “Life has no guarantees and makes no promises. We cannot control the lives or actions of others, only our own. We may be frustrated and disappointed by others, but in the end it is futile to try to make others do what we want or expect them to. I have learned this over and over in my life. Furthermore, who is to say what is right or who is right? What you think is right might be very wrong to someone else, based on their life experience. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Oh, he understood what Mr. Engelmann was saying, all right, he was just reluctant to accept it. And saying it out loud somehow made it permanent. “Yeah, I understand, Mr. Engelmann.” “I know it’s a very hard thing to accept, Henry, but that’s the reality of life. When the Nazis came to Austria and tortured so many people, their thinking was so distorted they believed what they were doing was right. I know that is far different from what we think Mr. Sarsky has done, but it is very possible he and his wife feel absolutely certain they are doing the right thing, too. And sometimes, the best thing to do is simply to accept.”

Mr. Engelmann was gearing up for one of his lessons.

“Deal with your own life, Henry, as best as you can. It’s the only life you have control over. Live in the present and try not to crowd it with worry over your past or the future. The present is the only reality. I can predict how you are going to feel if you continue to think about Jenny, how her parents are so unfair, how life is so unfair. Continue to think this way, and an hour from now, you will be in the same boat as you are now … and slowly sinking.

“Abandon those thoughts and move on. The way you live in the present—today—will determine your future and shape your view of the past. To live otherwise is a waste of time and results in absolutely no gain. It’s a very wise man who can accept what he cannot change, change what he can, and get on with his life.”

Mr. Engelmann studied Henry for a moment, and then with a twinkle in his eye, added, “There is an old Chinese proverb: ‘You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow flying over your head but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.’”

Henry forced a smile as his vivid imagination quickly painted a picture of birds nesting in his hair. He’d been spending almost every moment thinking about Jenny, the letters, and life without her. He understood it was self-defeating to blame the Sarskys for not doing what he wanted. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop. Then he remembered what Mr. Engelmann had told him over and over: when all the reasoning in the world doesn’t help, turn to God.

Please God. Please help me to trust in You, that You will somehow turn this sorrow and heartache into good.

How many times had Mr. Engelmann told him to trust in the Lord and not lean on his own understanding? Just saying that helped settle Henry’s feelings. He was not alone. A wave of strength and conviction welled up in him. He would get on with his life and put more faith in God.

“But this much I know,” he said aloud without thinking, “regardless of what happens, someday I’ll see my Jenny again.”

Mr. Engelmann looked at Henry with concern. “Henry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Then, more firmly, “Yes, I will be.”

“Well, then, let’s get back to work. I received eight orders this morning and they’re not going to deliver themselves.”

The installation of
the traffic lights not only brought in their regular customers more often, but also new ones who had avoided shopping there before because of the traffic. And once they came and experienced the personal service Mr. Engelmann and his young partner provided, they just kept coming back.

One day, Henry commented on Mr. Engelmann’s uncanny ability to remember most of his customers’ birthdays.

“You know, Mr. Engelmann, people are so surprised when they come in and you wish them a happy birthday. They can’t believe that you actually remember—some of them even say that you’re the only one who remembered at all!”

“Well, I like to make a point of such things, Henry, just like I want to remember each person’s name. People want to be recognized, appreciated and, most of all, loved. I may be just a simple grocery store owner, and my job may not seem very important, but I know my purpose in life is to serve my fellow man the best way I can. There are many important people out there who have much bigger and better jobs than I do, yet fail because they are only interested in themselves or in making money. True, we need to make money to live, but that is only secondary to what should be our main goal: to be kind, giving, caring and concerned, which all adds up to loving each other.” After a reflective moment, he added, “And isn’t that what the good Lord commands us to do, to love Him with all our strength and mind and heart, and to love our neighbour as ourselves?”

Henry gazed at Mr. Engelmann, thinking. Mr. Engelmann was always saying and doing things like that. Henry tried to store those moments away in his mind, not wanting to forget one precious word.

“I’m sorry for going off like that. What were you saying about birthdays? Are you going to tell me another way to improve my business or not?” Mr. Engelmann probed, snapping Henry out of his reverie.

“Well, yeah,” Henry said, trying to organize his thoughts again. “It makes people so happy when you wish them happy birthday, and then when you give them a little extra salami or bologna, you can just see the way they love it, and how their eyes light up. Even though it’s such a little thing, it’s like you’ve given them the world. I know you do it from the heart and—”

“Yes, yes. I never try to manipulate people in that way, Henry. In whatever I do, I try to be genuine.”

“Yeah, I know, but what I am getting at is this: if it makes some of the customers so happy, why not try to do it with
all
the customers? And if it increases the business, so be it.” He quickly added, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Goodness, Henry, sometimes you are just too smart, too good of a businessman. Let me think … Yes, yes, there is nothing wrong with trying to remember everyone’s birthday, but how is that possible?”

And Henry had the answer.

“Remember the copy you made of that petition? The people who signed had to write down their age and birthdays to show they were of voting age.”

The light in Mr. Engelmann eyes flickered on and almost glowed. “How do you think of such things?”

Mr. Engelmann rushed behind the counter, opened the drawer and pulled out his copy of the sheets of paper people had signed. He rifled through them and kept repeating, “Yes, yes … yes … yes. Henry, almost everyone has put their birthday on the sheet! Can you imagine how surprised and happy we will make all these people? I cannot wait to tell Anna.”

Mr. Engelmann looked at Henry with an appreciative smile. “The Lord has blessed you with the gift of insight. This idea, Henry, will bring us and our customers both much joy.”

Henry was so overwhelmed by Mr. Engelmann’s gratitude that his eyes teared up. He beamed.

Just an hour earlier he had felt terribly low because he hadn’t heard from Jenny or Mr. Sarsky—and now here he was, on top of the world. He was living in the present, serving others and not thinking of himself, just like Mr. Engelmann had encouraged him to do.

“There’s just one more thing I’d like to talk to you about before I go home for the day, Mr. Engelmann.”

The old man smiled again, “Oh, Henry, what more could you possibly share with me today than you already have?”

“My dad gave me a huge calendar with large squares around each date. His company gave them out. If you give me the petition list, I’ll go through it and write the names of the people and their birthdays in the right square. Then all we have to do is just look at the calendar to know whose birthday it is. And we can even check ahead of time and phone them to see if they have the time to come in, maybe for a little extra salami or something like that.”

Mr. Engelmann was beaming and laughing so hard he hopped from one leg to the other. He threw his arms up in the air and raised his head, exclaiming, “
Wir danken dir, lieber Gott
, we thank You, for sending this fine young man to Anna and me!” He rounded the counter and gave Henry a big hug. After a long moment he patted Henry’s shoulder and pulled away. “And thank you, Henry, for being the son we never had.”

Henry was glad he could help Mr. Engelmann almost as much as Mr. Engelmann was helping him.

But what Henry loved the most was the feeling of love between them; and it occurred to him that he truly felt like the Engelmanns’ son.

I
t was the middle of December
; it had been snowing virtually nonstop for more than two weeks, leaving large drifts of snow in front of the Engelmanns’ store. Henry had been shovelling for over an hour after the latest accumulation and decided to take a break.

Bing Crosby was singing “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” on the radio when Henry entered the store. Henry looked at the thigh-high heaps of snow and silently told Bing he could stop dreaming—it was definitely going to be a white Christmas. For a fleeting moment Bing’s voice made him think of “True Love” and Jenny. But only for a moment. He knew that
was
just a dream.

It had been almost four months since Jenny had left and Mr. Engelmann’s observation had proven correct. The answer Henry had been waiting for lay in the fact that neither Jenny nor her father had responded to his letter or any of the letters in the box. It was over … for now.

Yet, the thought of going into Christmas and the New Year without Jenny was terrible. Henry tried to push the thought out of his head. “I’ll be Home for Christmas” came over the airwaves.
Boy, can’t they play someone other than Bing?
It was hard not to conjure a fantasy of Jenny returning home to him. He could picture it: waiting at the train station, watching Jenny step down from the locomotive. She’d wear a white fur coat with a thick collar turned up so only her beautiful heart-shaped face and blond curls peeked out. Her blue eyes would sparkle when she saw him. He raised his arm, reaching out for her as she came down the last step …

“Here, let me have that,” Mr. Engelmann said, taking the dripping shovel from Henry’s outstretched hand. “Anna made some hot chocolate. Take your coat off and go have a drink. It’s in the thermos on the table in the storage room.”

It took Henry a moment to return to real life. He walked to the back of the store, the Christmas songs on the radio reviving all his tender feelings for Jenny. He’d been going along all right, but suddenly he knew that before the New Year began he had to try to reach his girl one last time. With Christmas and all, maybe Mr. Sarsky would have a change of heart. He still had Mr. Sarsky’s business address tucked away in his wallet, carefully memorized from the box Mr. Engelmann had labelled and mailed. But this time, Henry wasn’t going to tell anyone that he planned one final letter—except perhaps his guardian angel.

And he could send a gift for Jenny along with the letter, too! He already knew what he wanted to give her, and even though he’d just come up with the idea, he could hardly wait to get it and send it off. It was four-thirty and the stores downtown would be open until six. It was still snowing and rather cold out, and not many people had been out grocery shopping … maybe he could go right now!

“Would you mind if I left now, Mr. Engelmann? I shovelled the sidewalk and I think it’ll be fine until the store closes. I need to go downtown and do some Christmas shopping.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Engelmann replied without looking up from his invoices, “of course you can go. A present for your parents would be very nice.”

“Yeah.” Henry didn’t tell Mr. Engelmann that he had bought something for his mom and dad almost a month ago.

As Henry sat on the trolley, tossed about as the steel wheels bumped through the snow, he thought that the likeliest place to find the gift he was looking for was Eaton’s. It was the largest department store in the city. As the trolley crossed Broad Street and came within half a block of his destination, Henry reached up and pulled the cord. He stood up, grabbing the steel bar that ran parallel to the signal cord, and worked his way to the trolley’s back door. Finally, the trolley halted, the doors squeaked open, and he jumped off, exchanging the relative quiet of the trolley for the holiday sights and sounds of downtown.

Cars coursed up and down both sides of the street, horns blasted, and people walked to and fro. Snowbanks were piled high on each side of the road. Bright lights and Christmas decorations hung everywhere. Large holiday ornaments adorned each streetlight, each one a candy cane or a wreath or something Christmassy. Every store had a beautifully festive window display. He stopped to admire a nativity scene depicting three wise men standing with Mary and Joseph, overlooking the baby Jesus.

Henry couldn’t believe he and Mr. Engelmann hadn’t thought to put up a display or even lights. He vowed to mention it to Mr. Engelmann first thing.

As he approached Eaton’s, he heard the sound of ringing. By the front door stood a Santa Claus, jingling a small circlet of bells. Beside him was a huge pot suspended from the top of a tripod. Attached to the pot was a red-lettered sign that read
Salvation Army
. As people walked by the
ho-ho-ho
-ing Santa, some dropped in a coin or two. For each donation, Santa nodded his head and said, “God bless you.”

Henry reached into his pocket and dropped five cents into the pot.

Santa responded, “Thank you, son. God will bless you.”

Henry looked at the Santa and smiled. As he turned away, a sparkle on the Christmas tree in the window display caught his eye. He moved closer. Light reflected off a tiny metal angel near the top of the tree, giving it a halo. There was his gift to Jenny— an angel to keep her safe and protect her from all harm, and to remind her of his love for her always.

What luck to have found what he wanted so quickly among the hundreds of other ornaments on display! If he hadn’t come by the Salvation Army Santa, he might never have seen it. Henry turned to thank the man before going into the store, but he was no longer there. Henry looked up and down the street, but Santa was gone and so was the pot—vanished behind the veil of heavy snowflakes now tumbling from the sky. Maybe he’d been looking at the tree longer than he remembered.
Oh well
.

Henry rushed into the store and approached the nearest cashier. “I’d like to buy the little angel ornament hanging under the star on the Christmas tree in the window display, please.”

The cashier looked at him and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry, but those ornaments are for display only. They’re not for sale.”

Henry couldn’t believe his ears. “But they’ve got to be!” he insisted.

A supervisor walked over just then. “Is anything wrong here, Miss Downs?”

“I was just telling this boy that the ornaments on the tree in the window display are not for sale.”

“Perhaps we have a duplicate on the shelf ?” the supervisor inquired.

“No, I’m afraid not. We sold the last one yesterday.”

“I see,” the supervisor nodded.

“But I just have to have that one. Please?” Henry pleaded, unable to believe he’d found the exact right thing but wasn’t allowed to buy it.

The supervisor looked at Henry and Henry hoped he looked desperate enough to convince her to sell him the ornament.

“Could you show me the item you are referring to, young man?”

“We’ll have to go outside,” Henry said, “unless we can go into the window.”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Perhaps it’s best you show me outside.”

Once outside the display window, Henry pointed excitedly.

“Look, there it is at the top, the angel for my girlfriend, Jenny!”

The supervisor’s gaze followed Henry’s finger to the angel. Her eyes widened and she smiled.

She looked at Henry, “The tree won’t be nearly as pretty without that angel, but it’s Christmas and giving is what it’s all about … especially to a girlfriend.” She winked at Henry. “Come on.

Let’s go in and get that angel off the tree before it flies away.”

Henry laughed as they reentered the store. “I just knew I was going to find my gift for Jenny here.”

“Well, of course! We’re the best place in town to shop,” the supervisor replied. “Please, wait here at the counter while I try to catch your angel.”

Henry nodded and smiled, then watched as she carefully climbed into the display window and stood on her tiptoes to reach the angel. The branch of the tree bent slightly as she released the beautiful ornament from its perch. As it rested in her hand, she looked at it and smiled again.

“It’s made of pewter,” she murmured. Henry could tell that she thought it was beautiful, too.

She brought the angel over and handed it to Henry. It was about two and a half inches tall, but quite heavy for its size. It was the first time Henry had seen pewter, a very smooth metal with a silvery satin finish. The arms of the angel stretched before her in a gesture of love and protection, just what Henry wanted Jenny to feel. It was so pretty it could be jewelry;
Jenny might even wear it as a necklace
, he thought. At the bottom of the angel’s garment was an inscription:
Watch Over My Beloved.
It was perfect. He rubbed his thumb over the engraved letters and felt the shiver of goose-bumps.

Henry sensed the two employees watching him with knowing smiles and suddenly felt self-conscious. He handed his treasure back to the cashier to wrap up.

“Yes, this will be just fine,” he said. “Thank you very much for getting it for me!”

The older lady smiled. “Glad to be of help.”

The cashier put the angel in a box and covered it with a cloud of white cotton. “That will be $1.79.”

Henry handed her a five-dollar bill and thanked her as she handed him his change.

“You’re welcome, sir. Merry Christmas!”

Back outside, Henry stopped at the display window and looked in. The Christmas tree, festooned with hundreds of ornaments, simply did not look the same without the sparkle of the angel. Henry had stolen the heart of the tree and clutched it in his hand.

The streets were just about empty as Henry hurried to the trolley stop. It had started to snow again and he hoped it wouldn’t be too long of a wait. In spite of the cold and blowing wind, he felt warm and hugged the bag closer as if to protect it, although he knew it wasn’t the angel who needed protection.

The trolley arrived just as the snowfall sped into a full-blown blizzard. Henry got on gratefully and took a seat near the back. The moment he arrived home he would write the letter then mail it the next day so Jenny would be sure to receive it and her angel before Christmas. As he looked at the bag on his lap, the Eaton’s logo caught his eye and he wondered how he could get the name of Mr. Engelmann’s store on the bags they used. More advertising certainly wouldn’t hurt. He would have to run it by Mr. Engelmann. And for sure they should put up Christmas lights and maybe even a Christmas tree.

Because of the snowstorm, it took the trolley almost an hour to reach Broder Street rather than the usual twenty minutes. Once Henry stepped off the trolley, he ran home as fast as he could down the snow-clogged street, knowing his parents would be worried. His mom was upset but relieved he’d made it home safely.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Sorry, Mom. I went shopping.”

“Well, please phone or something to let us know if you’re going somewhere after work. We were very worried about you out in this storm and all.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Well, tell me, what on earth was so important you had to go shopping in this weather?”

“Sorry, Mom. It’s a secret.”

When she didn’t question him any further, Henry knew she thought the gift was for her.

“Well, come and eat your soup, Henry. It’s already on the table.”

As he ate, he told his mom about the birthday idea he’d thought of for the store.

“What a clever plan,” his mother said. “You sure are a businessman at heart.”

Suddenly thinking of an excuse to go to his room early, he added, “You know, I’m almost finished putting everyone’s name on the calendar. Think I’ll go to my room and finish it off.”

“How was work today?” Henry asked his dad as he passed the living room.

“Oh, it was all right. It was quite cold in the plant today. It’s not insulated enough to withstand this weather.”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed. “Mr. Engelmann’s store isn’t that warm either, even though the furnace hardly shuts off.”

Henry told him about his schoolwork and promised to study for his upcoming exams, then excused himself. He could hardly wait to get to his room and begin writing what might be his most important letter to Jenny.

His desire for Jenny was still so strong he ached inside. After all these months his feelings for her hadn’t waned in the least. In fact, they were stronger than ever. Henry sat at his desk and pulled out a blank piece of paper. For once he was unable to think of the right words.

So many things had happened lately that just seemed beyond coincidence. Like that Santa Claus in front of the Christmas display that held the angel—the very last one in the store. And then for the supervisor to be there just when the cashier told him he couldn’t have the one on the tree, and how kind she’d been to let him have the ornament … very strange.

The words he usually prayed each night flowed into his mind, “Angel of God, my guardian dear—it is you who is watching over me and directing my life, isn’t it?”

Henry got up and walked over to the window. The wind had died down, the snow fallen into sweeping drifts, but clouds still blocked out the moon. The sky looked somber without it, just like his life was joyless without Jenny. Yet he knew that behind the clouds was a silver lining. The moon was up there, somewhere, reflecting the light of the sun. And up there, too, was the brightest star, off to the east. He wondered if Jenny was looking out at the same star tonight?