Pewter Angels (33 page)

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Engelmann,” he said softly, tears shining in his own eyes.

T
he scent of burning logs
rising from two of the three brick chimneys lingered lazily in the moonlit sky. There was not a breath of wind. It had snowed earlier in the day, blanketing the tall pines and maple trees surrounding the Sarsky residence in a soft layer of snow. The Christmas lights outlining the huge Tudor-style home sparkled in the snow crystals that still hung in the air. The ground spotlights peeking through the snowbanks highlighted the front of the dwelling, making the dormers cast long shadows that swept up and jumped over the peak of the roof, while the moonlight made silhouettes of the two slender Gothic pillars shouldering the canopy over the entryway, stretching them down the front steps and across the freshly cleared driveway.

A snowplow operated by one of several grounds-keepers headed towards the entrance gate of the Sarsky estate. The shrubbery outlining the lane on either side guided the tractor as it trundled through the heavy snowfall. The tractor turned into a bend in the winding lane and disappeared, taking with it the drone of its engine. The only evidence of the plow was an intermittent spray of snow into the night between the trees. Skeletons of maples caught the falling snow and glistened in the moonlight.

A group of deer burst into a clearing behind the Sarsky home. Startled by the snowplow, they leaped effortlessly over the snow as if taking flight. It would be easy to imagine Santa Claus following closely behind, calling each one by name.

The Sarsky estate was a winter wonderland, a postcard picture of aesthetic beauty and charm. More than anything else, it was this enchanting setting that helped assuage Jenny’s grief since leaving Regina.

Of the four dormers on the second floor, only the one furthest to the west had a light on inside. The incandescence from Jenny’s bedroom warmed the snow caught on the ledges of her window. Just behind the frosted panes, Jenny sat at her desk, deep in thought. She was writing her very last letter to Henry. She hadn’t planned to write anymore, but recent circumstances had made her change her mind. Oh, all the Christmas music on the radio had stirred up nostalgic feelings for Henry and her time with him, especially anything sung by Bing Crosby, but her decision was mostly based on what had happened that afternoon at school.

The students in her class had each been asked to bring an ornament to put on the twenty-foot high Christmas tree in the main foyer of the school. When one of Jenny’s friends opened up the box containing her ornament, Jenny had been struck by the sight of a beautiful pewter angel. She’d had to get a closer look.

“Can I please see that, Tammy?” Jenny had asked, already reaching for it with excitement.

“Sure,” Tammy had replied, placing it into Jenny’s eager hand. “It’s so heavy and smooth,” Jenny commented as she ran her fingers over it. “And the inscription on the bottom is perfect:
Watch Over My Beloved.”

A surge of pure exhilaration swept through her, “Oh, it’s beautiful, Tammy! It reminds me of … of someone I really liked. We used to talk about guardian angels all the time.”

After a brief moment, Jenny cupped her hands around the tiny angel and brought it close to her chest. Maybe … “Oh, Tammy, could we please trade ornaments?” she blurted.

“Sure,” Tammy had shrugged. “Why not.”

Not daring to let the angel go, Jenny handed Tammy the ornament she herself had brought, a medium-sized Christmas ball of metallic blue with a hand-painted scene of Santa Claus and his reindeer flying through a star-studded sky.

“Oh, Jenny, this is gorgeous! Are you certain you want to trade?”

“Absolutely, Tammy. I’ll bring another one tomorrow. I’m going to send this angel off to Henry right away!”

Tammy looked at her in some confusion. “What?”

“Oh, never mind,” Jenny had said excitedly, already running down the hall. “Thanks again, Tammy!”

Now she rose from her desk and walked towards her bedroom window, the warm weight of the tiny metal angel heavy in her hand. As she looked out, she caught the first bright star in the east and, as she watched it glow more brightly than all the millions of stars in the sky, Henry’s warmth and love seeped through her as if he were holding her in his arms. Words formed in her mind and then on her tongue:

Oh star of wonder, star so bright

I beg you hear my wish tonight.

Send your light to Henry’s heart

and let him know I’ve done my part.

In a letter of love I’ve signed

I send an angel to search and find

a letter from Henry just for me.

Oh, please let there be one under our tree.

Jenny returned to her desk, picked up her Parker pen, and allowed the bright blue ink to flow out and create, on a blank, lilac-scented page, a letter filled with love, hope and longing. As Jenny wrote the last two paragraphs, she was sure something beyond her heart guided the pen:

I made a special wish to the bright star of the east tonight to send out my love to you. I hope and pray you get this letter and my gift. Every night I pray for my guardian angel to talk to yours, so together they can find some way to bring us together again.

Even though we are far apart, you are forever in my heart. I will love you always. Have a merry Christmas!

All my love,

Jenny

Jenny read the letter over, folded it twice, and stuffed it into a pink envelope. She held the angel and stared at it for the longest time. It was the perfect gift. She kissed the angel tenderly and, as she dropped it into the envelope, whispered, “Guardian angel, please watch over my beloved.” Jenny sealed the envelope, locking in the lilac scent to be released when Henry opened it. She placed it on the edge of her desk, ready to give to her dad to mail to Henry in the morning.

“’Morning, mom. ’Morning, dad,”
Jenny greeted her parents a little more brightly than she had of late. The letter was a hard rectangle in her sweater pocket. She was relieved to see her dad was still at home, having breakfast.

“You seem extra cheerful today,” her mother observed.

“Well, it’s just about the start of Christmas holidays, and last night I decided what I would like most for Christmas.” She looked at her mother and father, not sure if she should say what was on her mind. As her parents looked questioningly at her, she finally blurted, “What I want most is a letter from Henry.”

The blood from her parents’ faces drained as they looked at each other then back at her, barely believing what they had heard. Over the past month, she hadn’t once mentioned Henry, and they’d thought, with great relief, that she was finally over him. Now, out of the blue, she was back at it! The mood in the kitchen changed instantly.

“Jenny,” her father started. “Jenny,” he repeated, searching for the right words to say. “Henry hasn’t replied to any of your letters. Please … stop this. You’re only hurting yourself.”

And me.

As Edith opened her mouth to no doubt reinforce what her father had said, Jenny cried out, “Stop! Please just stop, both of you, right now.” Tears rolled down her face. “You might be right—but can’t you see I have to try one more time? It’s Christmas and I miss him, and I want to see him and … and … and I
love
him!”

Neither Ted nor Edith knew what to say. All they could hope was that this was the last time. The three of them sat in the kitchen, trying to soothe themselves in the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the eastern windows. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, each afraid to say anything further lest it lead to another outburst.

Ted rose first. “I best be on my way,” he said. He kissed Edith lightly on the cheek and headed for the front door.

Jenny jumped up and ran to the front entrance, getting there just as her father finished buttoning his coat.

“Don’t forget my letter, Dad,” she said as she handed it to him. Jenny leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Please promise you’ll mail it today,” her words were quiet, but she looked directly into her father’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, Jenny.” Then reluctantly he added, “I promise.”

As Ted looked up, his gaze met Edith’s. She gave her head a slight shake and Ted knew he had just broken another promise to his daughter.

T
ed was late arriving
at his office that morning. An accident on the highway had held him up for over an hour. Elaine was already at work when he entered the office.

“’Morning, Elaine,” he said as he strode through the reception area.

“Good morning, Mr. Sarsky.”

Ted entered his office, closed the door and headed for his desk. He set his briefcase down and stared at it. All his troubles stemmed from Jenny’s letter, he tried to tell himself. But he knew better; his problems were locked inside himself and not in the case. His faltering leadership as company president, his drinking, his marriage, his role as a father all weighed on him with the accumulated guilt of those damn letters.

He removed a set of keys from his pocket. He unlocked the briefcase and took out Jenny’s letter to Henry, lowering himself into his chair. The envelope smelled faintly of lilacs.

This letter was a bit heavier than the others and Ted hefted it in his hand. Something shifted inside. He ran his fingers over it and tried to feel the shape of the object inside. It eluded him. He replayed the conversation that had taken place in the kitchen earlier that morning, but couldn’t recall anything Jenny had said that might give a clue as to what she might want to send to that boy.

As Ted contemplated what to do, Elaine knocked on his door. He sat up, sliding Jenny’s envelope back into the briefcase.

“Come in.”

His secretary carried a small stack of papers with a letter on top. She stopped in front of Ted’s desk. “These three documents require your signature, Mr. Sarsky. I’d like to get them off before noon to ensure they will be in today’s mail. And a letter also came for Jenny Sarsky, care of your attention.” Elaine laid the letter on top of the other documents she’d just spread out before him and Ted sighed inwardly at the sight of Henry Pederson’s return address. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Not right now, thank you. That will be all, Elaine.”

After she closed the door, he picked up the letter Henry had sent. It was nearly identical in size and weight to the one Jenny had handed him that morning. The extra shape in Henry’s envelope felt almost the same as the one in Jenny’s, too.
Odd.
He opened his briefcase, took out Jenny’s letter to Henry, and laid it down beside the one Elaine had just brought in. Except for the colour of the envelope, the size was the same. And whatever the objects inside were, they seemed identical as well. A shiver tickled Ted’s spine.

“Incredible,” he murmured. “How can this be?” He picked up Henry’s letter once more, tipping the envelope on its end. The object fell down the length of the envelope with enough force to make a tiny hole in the well-travelled paper and protrude slightly through it.

It looked like … pewter? He poked at it with his fingertip and overcome with curiosity, pinched the metal. He hesitated before extracting it entirely. Whatever it was could very easily have fallen out already, that much was clear, and the envelope needed to be taped regardless. That was all the rationale he needed. Without further ado, he pulled out the metal object.

“It’s an angel!” He looked at it for a long time, running his fingers over the smooth metal. As he did, his troubled soul quieted. Finally his eyes wandered from the beautifully carved face of the angel down to follow its outstretched hands to the words at the bottom:
Watch Over My Beloved.

The words sent an instant ache to his heart. He considered Jenny’s envelope, eyeing it carefully. Could Jenny’s letter contain the same angel? It defied coincidence.

Ted put the angel Henry had sent down beside Jenny’s letter and ran his finger over the object inside the still-sealed pink envelope. He closed his eyes, visualizing the shape. A blind person, used to seeing by touch, would have been able to tell instantly. Another chill shot through him as he concluded that his daughter and that boy in Regina had, with no means of prior communication, sent each other the same gift. Uneasiness trickled through him. Was he toying with fate? Did God commission His angels, His messengers, to forge a union that was meant to be?

More importantly, was he going to be punished for his interference? Fear gripped him. The only way to alleviate it was to get rid of these letters as he had all the others. He couldn’t bear any reminder of what he and Edith had done to Henry and Jenny. And feeling the finger of God upon him was just too much.

“Yes, that’s what Edith would want. It’s the right thing to do. Out of sight, out of mind.” Without thinking it through any further, he pushed the button on the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Sarsky?”

“Could you please come in here, Elaine?”

Ted suddenly wondered what she’d think. He didn’t want her to see to whom the letters were addressed. Quickly he scrabbled through his desk drawer for a large brown envelope. He’d stuffed Henry’s letter into it and was about to pick up Jenny’s when Elaine walked in and approached the desk.

Uh oh, more letters,
she thought. The name
Henry Pederson
was clear on the pink envelope on her boss’s desk, but he snatched it up too quickly for her to make out any part of the address beyond “Saskatchewan.”

Ted sealed the large envelope and pushed it towards his secretary. It skidded across the desk.

Ted swallowed hard, trying to calm his racing heart as he said, “Please take that down to the furnace and see that it gets burned.”

“Right away, Mr. Sarsky.”

Ted sat back in his chair as Elaine left with the envelope.
Thank God that’s over
. As Ted reclined further back in his chair, he caught a glimpse of metal—the shiny pewter angel hidden behind his briefcase. In his haste to get both Henry’s and Jenny’s envelopes into the larger one before Elaine came in, he had forgotten to include it. Just the sight of it left him cold. Now what?

He could hardly ask Elaine to toss an angel into the flames! Hell, he could hardly even think of doing so himself.

It just doesn’t seem right
to destroy someone’s letter.
Elaine thought as she waited for the elevator to reach the eighteenth floor. “Oh, I pray Mr. Sarsky realizes it’s a mistake before it is too late.”

The elevator doors were just closing when Mr. Sarsky called her name and ran down the hall towards her.

“Elaine, wait! Don’t close the doors. I’d like that envelope back.” Out of breath, he waited for Elaine to extricate herself from the elevator, which had retracted its doors when she’d stuck her hand between them at the sound of her name. “I’m sorry, Elaine. I just realized this is something I must do myself.”

It was as if her prayer had been heard. Elaine studied Ted, relieved that she didn’t have to follow through on an order she didn’t agree with yet felt duty bound to carry out. But she was also worried for Ted. Sweat had popped out across his brow. Clearly this must have been a difficult decision for him. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow his growing drinking problem revolved around these letters. If only she’d kept the one she’d had in her hand, perhaps she could’ve helped by now.

Trying to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, Elaine handed the brown envelope back to her boss and merely asked, “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

“No, that’s fine. Thank you, Elaine.”

Elaine smiled, trying to cheer him up, but Ted didn’t notice. He just took the envelope and hurried back to his office. Elaine watched him walk away. His shoulders slouched; his head was down. He looked troubled, haunted. How long until the board called him on it? For the hundredth time, she wished she could help him.

Ted was relieved he’d caught
Elaine in time, though now he felt weak-willed. He was right back where he’d started. He stared at the brown envelope in front of him. He picked it up and tore open the end, dumping both letters onto the shiny mahogany desktop. He tossed the brown envelope into the waste basket. Picking up the pewter angel, he began to talk to it.

“If it hadn’t been for you getting out of that envelope, you and the letters would be burning in the furnace by now. Are you some kind of warning, an omen of some kind?”

Shivers finger-walked down his spine. His nervousness returned, and a pervasive fear that he didn’t understand settled in. It made him want to get up and flee, but there was no rational reason to do so. He had to get the angel out of sight. He picked up Henry’s envelope, reinserted the angel through the tear he’d made earlier and sealed the edge twice with tape to make sure it wouldn’t come out again. He laid the letter down on top of the other one. Then he sat back, wondering what on earth he was going to do with letters that seemed controlled and destined by heaven itself.

A good half-hour elapsed as he sat absorbed in his thoughts, staring at the two letters. He chuckled humourlessly; it appeared that no matter how hard he and Edith had tried to end Jenny’s relationship, the force of fate—or, or whatever—kept overcoming the obstacles they put in its path.

Here they were, a letter from Jenny and one from Henry, lying on his desk, almost hugging one another, in spite of his and his wife’s efforts to keep the two teens apart. He hated to admit it, but he was actually touched by the whole thing. If he hadn’t felt so despondent, he might have laughed at the entire matter.

Although he desperately wanted a drink, he refused to allow himself to be dulled by alcohol. He had to contemplate the possible consequences of his actions. Could that be the reason he had forgotten to put the angel back inside the envelope? Was it somehow meant to get him to take a closer look at his motivations?

Ted thought over the reasons he and Edith had chosen to keep Jenny and Henry apart. He understood Edith’s worry and concern, yet he knew in his heart their actions, especially his, were wrong. Edith, after all, hadn’t stood in front of a roaring furnace with a batch of love letters in her hand. He mulled that over, spiraling further into confusion and bewilderment. He tried to look at the situation the same way he would an important business decision, probing for all the possible alternatives and all the possible consequences. He freed his mind and allowed it to come up with a solution his instincts would acknowledge as right.

The words
honesty
and
truth
came to him. Ted had lied to his daughter repeatedly. What could he do to correct the situation? Tell her the truth. Explain why they had taken the action they had. Jenny would understand, eventually, and even if she didn’t right away, she would be in communication with Henry and would forgive them in no time. They could then be supportive rather than manipulative and untruthful.

But just as the light of truth started to take hold of him, an image of Edith’s disapproving face popped into his mind. When Edith was firm in her resolve, there was no way he could go against her wishes. It always carried devastating consequences when he tried.

For a brief moment, Ted had known what to do. If only he had reinforced those thoughts with the knowledge of how his decisions would affect Henry and Jenny’s lives. But it was the imagined look in Edith’s eyes that tipped the scale between doing what was right … and what was easy.

Besides, would Jenny really understand? Would she forgive him? Would Edith still love him? What if Edith left him? What if his wife’s worst fears were realized and Jenny became pregnant? Slowly, the arguments built up to blind him; a fog settled over him and clouded his previous clarity.

Ted took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to expel the tension growing within him. As soon as he’d imagined Edith’s stern face and her harsh reprimands, his actions became predictable. He began to sink fast; he couldn’t carry the load any longer.

Almost like an automaton, Ted rose and went to the liquor cabinet. He pulled out the vodka; it gave off the least odour. The bottle was less than half full. He opened the bottle and poured out a splash, trying to ration himself. He didn’t drink it in one gulp the way he usually did. He just sipped at it.

Ted returned to his chair, tilting it back. It amazed him that Jenny had never tried to mail one of her letters herself. She’d had many opportunities when she and her mother went shopping in the city, but she had always left it up to him to mail the letters for her. Because she so loved and trusted him, she never once suspected he was destroying her letters. Guilt gnawed at him and he took another swallow to drown it.

He stared intently at the envelopes, wondering what the letters said. He tried to recall the love letters he had written to Edith when they were apart for a time. But it was too long ago, and the vodka had begun to work its magic. He wanted to read the letters to see if they were as similar as the angels, but that whole thing was eerie. It was as if the letters were protected by angels themselves …. The feeling that he was playing with destiny returned, and he didn’t dare tamper with it any longer.

Ted finished the liquor in his glass and set it down. He reached for the envelopes and re-stacked them, one on top of the other. He took an elastic band from his desk drawer and slid it, like a ring over a finger, around the letters, then reached for another one. As Ted held the elastic, he noticed it was quite frayed, ready to break. He was going to replace it, but felt prompted to leave it. He slipped it over the letters next to the other elastic. It held. The letters were joined, even if his daughter and the boy weren’t, and Ted took a kind of maudlin satisfaction in that.