Another Angel of Love Read online

  “Sometimes I wonder if we’re going steady at all,” she said, glancing at him now. “You phoned almost a week ago to ask me to the movies and yet you broke our date twice before tonight.”

  “Sorry, Jen, Dad’s not feeling well and someone has to look after the business.”

  “Well, it’s not like you have a small store or something. Your dad’s business is huge and he has lots of people working for him. That’s what corporations have executives for, James. My father trusts his staff to look after business affairs all the time.”

  “But Jenny, the guys Dad has working for him don’t know anything. I feel like I shouldn’t even start university—maybe just take over right away. I’d have that place humming in no time.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes and looked down. James placed a forefinger under her chin and raised her head until her gaze met his. “Look, Jen, I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep my dates with you in the future.”

  James looked tenderly into Jenny’s eyes, then kissed her. “You’re so beautiful, Jenny.” He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her in, raising his other hand to place it on her shoulder and then slowly letting his fingers trail down over her breast. Jenny quickly pushed his hand away. James kissed her once more then tried again to touch her breast.

  Jenny pushed herself away from him. “I told you before, James, I don’t want to do that.”

  “Come on, Jenny. Everybody does.”

  “Well, that’s their choice. I want to wait until I’m married.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  Jenny turned to face him. “Yes, I am.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and an uneasy silence fell. In the wake of the rape, Jenny also didn’t want to conceive another child until she was married and secure in a relationship, one in which she could raise a child with a man she loved. Her thoughts naturally turned to Henry and the day they’d almost made love. It was Henry who had stopped. It was he who had realized it was important to wait. From that moment, Jenny had decided to remain chaste until she was married.

  Oh, I felt so safe with Henry!

  “Jen?” James asked, but she didn’t hear him. “Jenny? What’s wrong? It always seems like your mind is elsewhere when we’re together. And it’s something else besides this sex thing. What is it?”

  Jenny kept her gaze lowered, tears beginning to surface. She said nothing. She knew James was frustrated with her, tense because of her unwillingness to go further than kiss. She had hoped things would be better now that he was going into his first year of university and not in high school anymore.

  “Is there someone else?”

  Jenny shook her head, wiping away a tear. “No,” she whispered, “no, there isn’t.” For a long time Jenny had been afraid that James would sense the love she still had for Henry. That he would see it in her eyes or sense it in her touch. That it wasn’t he who excited her but rather the memories that lay just beneath the surface. Jenny was afraid to look at James—he knew.

  “Who is it I remind you of Jenny? I remember when I first met you in the cafeteria you said I reminded you of someone. You seemed thrilled at the time. And yet I always have this feeling that I’m competing with some unknown guy.”

  James reached out and gently took hold of Jenny’s chin, tilting her head towards him until their eyes met once more.

  “Just tell me, Jen. Who is this mystery man?”

  “Oh, it’s no one, James, just a friend I had the summer we were in Regina before we moved here.” Jenny felt his fingers stiffen under her chin. She didn’t want to rouse his jealousy and get him upset. “It’s really nothing.”

  But James knew better and Jenny could tell that he did. Even in the darkness of the car she could visualize the red flooding James’ neck and face, his veins swelling. She’d seen it many times when he was around other guys who liked to flirt with her. Jenny took hold of his hand and tried to comfort him, to reassure him he didn’t need to worry. But James persisted.

  “So, tell me about this guy from all those summers ago. What’s his name? How old is he?”

  “James, it’s really nothing—”

  “What do you mean, ‘nothing’? He’s with us all the time! At least tell me something about him so I know what I’m up against!”

  Jenny looked at her boyfriend and in the dim light tried to read on his face if it was okay to indulge in sharing what weighed so heavily on her heart. Would he understand?

  “It’s Henry—”

  “Henry who?” James wanted to know, his voice rising slightly, demanding.

  Jenny tensed and a cold chill ran through her. Still, she continued. “Henry Pederson. You see, when Dad was transferred to Regina from Vancouver we moved in three doors down from his house. I met him a few days later and we became good friends over the summer. He was from the farm and a real nice guy. In the fall we started Grade 9 at the same high school and then, two weeks later, Dad got transferred here.”

  James dark eyes flashed “So, do you keep in touch with this lover boy?” His voice was curt and razor sharp. Before Jenny could answer, the interrogation continued. “Do you write him? Does he call? Does he write you?” James peppered her with one question after another, wanting to know where he stood as quickly as possible and trying to decide just what he’d have to do to correct this situation and ensure his position in her heart.

  “No!”

  James relaxed slightly but wanted more assurances. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Surely you must have written one another?”

  “Yes, I did write him. Many times in fact, but he never wrote back, not one letter…not once.”

  James relaxed still further. “Not one?”

  “No. Not even one.”

  “Some friend…but then, what do farm boys know.”

  “Actually, James, Henry was very sensitive and a real gentleman—there must be some reason why he hasn’t written.”

  “Yeah, sure there is. He found someone else, Jenny. That’s the only explanation and the sooner you accept it, the better for all of us.”

  Jenny sighed. “Yes, I know, James. You’re right. That’s why I told you it was nothing.”

  “So you’re just peeved he hasn’t written you.”

  She nodded. “I guess that probably has a lot to do with it.”

  Jenny knew James’ jealousy wasn’t a good thing and that she should be upset with him, yet she did feel guilty about letting her thoughts stray to Henry so much and comparing him with James. Perhaps James’ sensitivity is justified, well…to a degree anyway.

  “I’m really sorry if I’ve given you the impression I’m not being attentive to you, I must admit my mind does wander at times…I’ll try to be more devoted…” Jenny trailed off and winked at James

  But he was having none of it. “Look, Jennifer, you’re with me now so move on—get over him.”

  “I have…I am, James. Really, you’re overreacting.”

  “I don’t know, Jenny, you seem to be in another world all too often. Sometimes I think I don’t know you.” His voice softened and he looked into Jenny’s eyes, “I’m very sorry for what I did earlier, it’s just…I love you so very much, Jenny.”

  And after a long moment, Jenny replied, “I love you too, James.” I think.

  Their lips met and Jenny made every effort to keep her thoughts on the boy who held her tight in his arms.

  James drew his lips away from Jenny’s and looked long and hard into the eyes of the girl he wanted to possess more than anything. He wanted to make certain there wasn’t anything that could take her away from him. It was obvious she liked this Pederson, missed him and maybe even loved…he couldn’t finish the thought. A deep surge of loathing slammed his guts. Revulsion for his competitor cemented in the core of his being. He was the envy of every other guy at school, and was constantly being challenged by guys phoning his girl at all hours. If it hadn’t b
een for Jenny’s lack of interest in any of them it would have driven him mad. But this guy seems different to her; I’ll have to keep a close watch. If only he could lock her up some place, away from everyone. The name “Henry Pederson” reverberated irritatingly in the confines of his flaming consciousness and with every echo he despised it all the more.

  Chapter Five

  The Pedersons arrived almost an hour before the start of the service and easily found a parking space in front of the church. Since Henry and his dad were pallbearers they headed to the back of the church to meet with the funeral director, while Henry’s mother, Mary, entered through the front door. An usher greeted her and led her to where Mr. Engelmann waited. She took his hand in support.

  St. Mary’s Church held 750 people, and when Henry and his father and the other pallbearers walked in, the church was almost filled to capacity. For a simple grocery store owner with no immediate family to have so many people come to pay their respects was unbelievable. Mr. Engelmann and the funeral director followed behind the casket as it was carried to the front of the altar, and everyone took their seats. As they walked down the aisle, heads turned to get a glimpse of the widower. Those who had not attended the prayer service the evening before were surprised, however, by Mr. Engelmann’s expression and attire, both of which seemed more suitable for a wedding than a funeral, and murmurs were heard throughout the church as the congregants tried to make sense of it. But anyone who had been with Mr. Engelmann twelve hours earlier knew that this was not going to be an ordinary funeral and smiled warmly through their tears as Mr. Engelmann made his way down the aisle. Mr. Engelmann’s light tan suit—adorned with a single, bright yellow carnation in the lapel—and his genial smile were a sharp contrast to those dressed in traditional black, their grief deeply etched on their faces.

  When Henry saw what Mr. Engelmann was wearing, he was immediately reminded of the day he’d met Jenny. He had fallen asleep waiting to take her to Balfour High School to pick up registration forms and had a dream which still haunted him to that day. In the dream, Henry, as Prince Charming, came upon Jenny—who lay sleeping on a bed of white daisies in a vast field of wildflowers. As he approached her, anticipating the touch of her lips on his, she suddenly disappeared and in her place was an older man wearing a tan-coloured suit with a yellow flower in the lapel. Was it Mr. Engelmann? But he hadn’t even really known the Engelmanns back then. Unbidden, the rest of the dream came rushing back: a faceless figure in a black cloak held him back from getting to Jenny and the man in the tan suit… the thought sent quivering coldness down his spine now the way it had then, despite the warm air in the church.

  About halfway down the long aisle of St. Mary’s, the organist began playing “The Lord of the Dance.” Hardly a tune to be played at a funeral. By the time Mr. Engelmann was seated, the mood in the church had shifted from mournful to something approaching jovial.

  While Father Connelly inwardly cringed at Mr. Engelmann’s choice of song, his clothing and demeanour, fearing it would offend some attendees, he nonetheless greatly respected both Mr. and Mrs. Engelmann and had agreed to honour their rather unusual wishes for her funeral. He started the mass by making the sign of the cross. Ten minutes into the ceremony, it was time for Henry’s reading. He was very nervous. He wanted to get up and run away. Mr. Engelmann patted him on the knee and whispered, “You will do fine.”

  Peace and confidence settled over Henry by the time he reached the podium. He vowed he would do the best reading for Mrs. Engelmann that he possibly could. As he looked over the congregation, he prayed for strength and help for him to read well. He remembered last evening how Mr. Engelmann had looked over the crowd and waited until he had everyone’s attention. Henry, too, looked over the crowd, met Mr. Engelmann’s warm gaze, then spoke.

  “Before I do the reading, I would like to tell you about the wonderful gift Mrs. Engelmann left for me. She gave me her Bible.” Henry lifted it up for everyone to see. “When I opened it up last night I found a note she’d left for me, requesting that I read one of her favourite passages on love. I feel very honoured to be reading it now for her and for you, from her Bible.”

  Henry looked again at Mr. Engelmann, who smiled and nodded.

  Henry read verses one, two and three of 1 Corinthians as they were written, but when he reached verses four through seven he replaced the word “love” with Mrs. Engelmann’s name. As he had read the scripture the night before, it occurred to him that although Mrs. Engelmann had been a simple woman running a humble grocery store, she lived her life like a saint. Mrs. Engelmann gave meaning to the words of 1 Corinthians 13. She was a living embodiment of love, a clear example that it was possible to live by God’s Word. At first, saying “Anna” out loud felt odd on his lips; he had always called her “Mrs. Engelmann,” but once he started, it flowed.

  Anna is patient and kind; Anna is not jealous, or conceited, or proud; Anna is not ill-mannered, or selfish, or irritable; Anna never kept a record of wrongs; Anna was never happy with evil, but was happy with the truth; Anna never gave up; Anna’s faith, hope and patience never failed…Anna was love.

  When Henry finished verse 13, he added, “During the times I spent with Mrs. Engelmann she always reflected these very words. I always left her presence feeling I had gained so much more than what I tried to offer by my visit. On one occasion, after I had read this very passage to her, Mrs. Engelmann said to me, ‘There is no hope without love. There is no forgiveness without love. We will never be able to serve the Lord or our neighbour without love. Love your Lord with all your strength, soul and heart. Love your neighbour as yourself. Live by this commandment, and you will be a king and inherit all the worthy treasures on earth and in heaven.’ ”

  Henry walked back to the pew and sat down between his mother and Mr. Engelmann. Mr. Engelmann patted Henry’s knee and whispered, “Well done, Henry.”

  His mother placed her hand on his, on the one that still held Mrs. Engelmann’s Bible, and patted it.

  After Father Connelly read from the Gospel of John, he told them how happy he was to see so many people and welcomed all the newcomers. He added a few words about Mrs. Engelmann, repeating much of what he had said the night before at the prayer service, then called on Mr. Engelmann to say a few words.

  All eyes were on Mr. Engelmann. As he approached the altar, he knelt and bowed his head before the crucifix hanging behind it. After a brief prayer he made his way to the podium, unfolded a letter he had taken from his suit jacket pocket, and with a gentle smile on his face, slowly surveyed the people before him.

  “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for coming today to celebrate Anna’s entrance into heaven. Long before Anna passed on, many an evening we would sit and talk about meeting Jesus. It was as casual as if we were talking about what opera or movie to see. We have no fear of death. Death is as much a part of life as life is a part of death. We are all born to die. From the moment we are conceived, our days are numbered. It is what we choose to do between that is important. If you have lived a Godly life, there are no worries or concerns. Death is simply the key that unlocks eternal life for us in which there is no longer pain or suffering, only pure joy.

  “For the longest time, I wished that I would be the one to go first. But with her illness, it was better that she went, and I am happy for her. She deserves to be with the Lord, to have His love and presence before I do.

  “But I, too, am ready. Like Anna, who is wearing her wedding gown to meet her groom, I am wearing my wedding suit. We both thought it fitting to wear our wedding attire to celebrate our passing from this life to a new life with Jesus in much the same way we celebrated when God joined us together in marriage. And when I too die, I want to wear this same suit—although it may need some alteration if I put on a little weight. One quick cut down the back is all it would take, and no one would be the wiser as I lay in the coffin.” Mr. Engelmann smiled, and the congregation chuckled.
/>   “In any case,” he went on, “before Anna died she wrote a brief letter that she wanted me to read to you today:

  Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

  As many of you know, when David and I left Austria in 1942, we left behind our homeland and the few relatives who had survived the war up to that time. Since then, we have made our home here, and you have all become our family.

  Please don’t cry for me now that I have gone on to be with the Lord. I would rather have you smile and be happy that I lived here in the neighbourhood, and that we have become friends, to be grateful for our visits, and the good and sorrowful times we have shared.

  All of us must someday leave our friends and go through the door to be with the Lord in eternal life. It is not a sad time but a happy one. It is a time to celebrate and cherish the memories we have shared and let them live on.

  Let the love we shared blossom and give fruit to all those lives we touch with ours. Someday soon we will all be together with the angels and saints in heaven, giving praise and glory to our Lord.

  May God bless you and may my memory and love be with you always.

  Love, Anna

  Mr. Engelmann folded the letter, slid it into his breast pocket and patted the outside. Henry knew it would forever be by Mr. Engelmann’s heart. “Anna made one more request,” Mr. Engelmann said. “All the songs you hear today, Anna wanted sung. And before Father Connelly leads us in Holy Communion, I would ask Margaret Tearhorst to come forward and sing ‘Amazing Grace.’ Anna always loved to hear Margaret sing and often said the Lord blessed Margaret with the voice of an angel.”

  Margaret came down the aisle to stand in front of Anna’s casket. Henry waited for the organ to play an introduction, but there wasn’t one. After Margaret finished the first verse it was clear that musical accompaniment was unnecessary. The notes soared to the rafters in Margaret’s clear, strong voice, and each word carried such a melodic flutter he wished it would go on forever. As Margaret sang the fifth verse, “And, when this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease; I shall possess within the veil, a life of joy and peace,” shivers tickled Henry’s spine, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the church.