Pewter Angels (22 page)

“We … we … were just saying goodbye,” Henry stammered, taking a step back.

“Surely, it doesn’t take hours to say goodbye,” she sputtered. “Didn’t you once think that we would be concerned?”

Henry didn’t know how to respond. Silence was probably his best and safest defense anyway.

Jenny squeezed his hand and shot him a sad look of apology. Mrs. Sarsky stared down at their tightly joined hands and stepped between them, grabbing Jenny’s wrist to pull her towards the house. Jenny kept looking over her shoulder at Henry, and each time she did, her mother yanked on her arm all the harder. Jenny pleaded with her mom to let her say goodbye once more, but Mrs. Sarsky would not relent. Jenny’s tears turned to heart-wrenching sobs as they walked up the steps to their front door. Jenny turned, looked at Henry with love and desperation one last time, then disappeared inside.

I
s that you, Henry?”
his mother called as the screen door slammed shut behind him.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Henry could hardly speak.

She emerged from the kitchen. “What are you doing home?” Studying his face a little longer, she added, “Have you been crying?”

Her sympathy was all it took to bring the tears flooding to his eyes.

“Goodness! What’s wrong, Henry?” she rubbed his arm, scanning for injury, but the hurt was too deep to see. “Why are you crying?”

Trying with all his might to control the tremble in his voice, Henry answered, “Jenny’s leaving, Mom. They’re moving away.”

“What? Why? They just moved in!”

“I know, but Jenny’s dad got this big promotion because someone in his company died, and he has to go and take over right away.”

“Oh, dear.” Not knowing what else to say, knowing there was no way to help, Mary opened her arms to her boy. Weak with fear and desperation, Henry fell into them.

He’d been ten or eleven when he’d started to feel embarrassed by his mother’s hugs. It just wasn’t manly, was maybe even a sign of weakness to show affection. When his father had problems, he usually bottled them up inside—he didn’t want to be comforted; he put on a brave front. Henry wanted to be strong like his dad, but at that moment, he just needed his mom to hold him. He rested his chin on her shoulder and, unable to hold back the tears any longer, he sobbed out loud. The slow, steady beat of her heart and the even rhythm of her breathing contrasted his racing pulse and shuddering gasps. Gradually, her calm seeped into him.

They stood together in the dim light of the hallway. The sun had not yet travelled far enough to the west to flood it with light. In a way he was glad, there was some comfort to be found in the shadows instead of being exposed to the bright scrutiny of the sun. A sudden, cool breeze wafted through the screen door, adding to the chill of Henry’s grief, and he wished the wind would carry his troubles away. But it wasn’t possible. He was in the eye of a storm, having been tossed around by uncontrollable circumstance before having to get used to living in the destruction of its wake.

His mother stroked his shoulder. His anguish slowly released some of its hold.

“Things have a way of working out, Henry,” she said now. “What seems impossible at the time has a way of resolving itself.” Maybe there was a glimmer of hope: if his mom understood, perhaps Jenny’s parents would as well.

“Would you like some soup?” she asked as she let him go.

“I’m not really hungry, Mom.”

“I understand.”

“I can’t go back to school this afternoon, either.”

She let out a small sigh, then smiled gently. “It’s okay.”

Mr. Engelmann
, he suddenly thought, maybe he can help. “I think I’ll go to the grocery store. I have some work I want to do.”

Henry rode his bike to the store. Whenever he was troubled, riding his bike and feeling the wind on his face somehow made him feel free, with no burdens or worries. And though a bike ride wouldn’t fix the problem, it might help relieve a bit of the tension gnawing his guts.

There was no movement at Jenny’s when he left his house. His gaze stayed pinned to her door for the longest moment. She’d be gone tonight. He wanted to see her, talk to her, but he knew better.

Mr. Engelmann looked up then at his watch when Henry walked in.

“It’s not even one o’clock, Henry. How come you are here and not at school? Is there some kind of holiday?” As Henry got closer, Mr. Engelmann saw the expression on his face and his tear-stained cheeks. Before Henry could say anything or offer an explanation, Mr. Engelmann said, “Anna is feeling better today. Go out back and sit on the crate. I will be out shortly.”

Henry looked at his feet as he walked past Mr. Engelmann, knowing if he caught the older man’s eye, he wouldn’t be able to keep from crying. He’d had enough of that already. But it was uncanny how Mr. Engelmann knew what he needed.

He heard Mr. Engelmann call out, “Anna, can you come down and watch the store for a little while? Henry and I need to talk.” Mr. Engelmann’s friendship and concern touched Henry. The tears perched on the raw edge of his emotions surfaced, spilling over his eyelashes.

He sat on the weathered crate like he usually did, closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sun. The heat felt good and quickly dried his wet face. Henry quickly dashed a hand across it, wiping away whatever tracks remained. As much as he respected Mr. Engelmann’s wisdom, Henry doubted there was anything he could say that would make him feel better.

The door handle turned and the back door swung open. Mr. Engelmann came out, glancing at him over the rim of his smudgy glasses before taking his usual seat. His brief look was both penetrating and analytical. In that split second, Henry knew Mr. Engelmann had figured out where Henry was at, both mentally and emotionally, and all he had to know was why.

Mr. Engelmann sat down on the crate next to him.

“I can see you are very troubled today, Henry. Can I be of some help?”

“You know how much I like Jenny,” Henry said, staring straight ahead, his voice almost monotone with his effort not to rage.

“Yes, I know you love her very much.”

He just cuts right to it.
Henry’s confidence in Mr. Engelmann rose a few notches. “She’s moving away. Today. Her dad has accepted a big position with his company in Ottawa and needs to go there right away. They need him to take over immediately.

Jenny is going with him tonight so she can start school as soon as possible. I don’t know if I can …” Henry hesitated, his voice now trembling so much despite his best efforts that he couldn’t complete the sentence.

“Live without her?”

“Yeah!” he exploded. “What am I going to do?”

Mr. Engelmann nodded, considering. He turned to Henry, his expression as sorrowful as Henry’s own. “This is a very sad and serious matter, Henry.”

“Yes, it sure is! How can I stop it?” Henry looked up at him.

Mr. Engelmann returned his look but remained silent. They both knew there was nothing that would stop Mr. Sarsky from moving his family away.

“It’s so unfair to uproot Jenny again, and just when she is making friends and … meeting me … and we like each other so
much
. Don’t they understand how
wrong
this is?”

Mr. Engelmann didn’t respond right away. He patted Henry’s knee several times. “It’s a very difficult thing when someone you love suddenly goes away. I understand the heartache you are feeling.”

Tears spilled over again and Henry dashed them away angrily.

“You know that Anna and I are from the old country. We came to Canada halfway through the war. We used a lot of our money to get away from the Nazis.”

What has that got to do with anything? Henry thought.

“Anna is of Jewish faith. We met just as the war broke out. Just before we left Austria, the Nazis started rounding up all the Jews and sending them to concentration camps. One day as I walked Anna home, we saw the Gestapo in front of her apartment. A minute later, two soldiers brought out her mother and father. If she had yelled out or tried to stop them, she would have been taken away also, or perhaps shot on the spot. So in silence, we watched as her parents were herded onto the back of a truck and taken away. They were not seen again. In the same way, I too lost a brother and sister in the war for sheltering a Jewish family.

Henry looked over at Mr. Engelmann, fists slightly clenched, anguish etched in his eyes. But Mr. Engelmann, more than anyone, understood this pain.

“Perhaps you are angry with Jenny’s parents, for taking away your loved one.”

“Yes, yes!” Henry raised his voice. “It’s not fair, to Jenny or to me. Jenny was just barely getting settled, and suddenly she’s forced to go away? She doesn’t want to go and I don’t want her to go!”

“Yes, yes, Henry, it isn’t fair, and it is very painful when something like this happens. When Anna and I left Austria, we were devastated and thought we could never go on.” Here it seemed that Mr. Engelmann, too, might get emotional, but he swallowed and went on, “But slowly we accepted what life handed to us and eventually even forgave the Nazis who murdered our loved ones. I know you are waiting for me to give you some answer that will immediately solve your problem, but I don’t want to fool you, Henry. I don’t have the answer you may want. But this I do know: time is a great healer, regardless of the outcome.”

His words were not what Henry wanted to hear at all.

“It will be very hard for you to see Jenny go away tonight, but it is not the end. You can write to her. And time is not only a great healer, it also passes very quickly. I am a lot older than you, Henry, and I know this. You are just starting Grade 9. In a few years you will be graduating and then perhaps going off to university. This time will go very fast.”

Henry tried to imagine where he’d be in three or four years. It seemed like an eternity.

“I don’t know if I can even wait a day … or a week,” Henry said, hopelessness transparent in his voice.

“I remember when I first bought this grocery store and used to walk around the block, seeing you on your tricycle. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

“And do you remember a time when you wanted to ride a two-wheel bicycle?”

“Yes, I could hardly wait for my mom and dad to buy me my first bike.”

“And that’s the one you have now, no?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember you could hardly wait? Here we are now, and you have it. See how quickly the time went?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“And now, what about driving a car? Are you thinking about that, too?”

“Yeah, sure. All the time.”

“Well, when you are sixteen, less than a year away, you can apply for your license. Do you think that time will come soon enough?”

“I suppose so,” Henry replied.

“Now that you look back, wanting a tricycle and then a bicycle and now a car, you see that time moves very quickly, and before you know it, you have it! The older you get, the more you will want time to slow down, Henry. That day will come all too soon.” After a brief pause, he added, “The point, Henry, is that you and Jenny may have to be separated for a while. People are separated all the time. Men go away to war. Children leave their parents to go to school. Soon they are back together again. If it’s meant for you and Jenny to be back together, you will be together again before you know it.”

“And, what if it’s not?” Henry asked, fearing the answer.

“Well, if it’s not, then it’s simply not, Henry. Sometimes people fall in love, and after a while, they realize they are not meant for each other. I know right now you may think that could never be the case with you and Jenny, but others who have felt the same way as you do now were proven wrong over time.

“Trust an old man. What looks so dark and heavy to you now will soon brighten up. Things happen that give us hope. I remember an old saying: ‘Life by the yard is hard, but life by the inch is a cinch.’” Mr. Engelmann glanced at Henry to see if he understood. “Time is a great healer, but don’t be controlled by it. If you focus too much on the future and how long things will take, you can become overwhelmed by it. Take one day at a time. Live fully in the present and a happy future will be in store for you.”

Finally, Henry thought he understood. He and Jenny were at the mercy of time. Time was their greatest obstacle. They were so young now. If they were three or four years older, they would be more in control of the future, with more solutions at hand to realize the dreams they held in their hearts. But for now they needed to wait and take it one day at a time.

“Patience, Henry. You must be patient,” Mr. Engelmann said. “Yeah,” Henry sighed, “I know, I need to accept—”

“Yes, yes, Henry, acceptance right now is very important for you to understand.” Mr. Engelmann said it with such conviction, Henry had to turn and look at him. “There is another saying that applies not only to your situation, but to most of life’s troubles: ‘Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’” Mr. Engelmann paused for a long time. Henry knew he wanted to let what he had said sink in.

Mr. Engelmann was right. He could cry, rant, rave and scream, but it wasn’t going to change anything. Mr. Sarsky was going to do what was best for himself and for his family. Henry simply didn’t fit into the Sarsky’s plans and he had to accept that fact—for now. And if Mr. Engelmann and Anna could forgive the soldiers who had killed members of their families, then surely he could forgive Mr. and Mrs. Sarsky for leaving and save himself from being consumed by bitterness and grief.

Relief inched its way into Henry’s heart and he started to think more clearly.
Jenny’s leaving tonight
. “I’m not ready,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, I just feel so unprepared,” he repeated.

“That’s how life is sometimes, Henry. Things can happen very quickly. We have to learn to accept. That’s the key. We have to accept troubles that come our way, and trust in the Lord to make good out of it. Look at the tragedy of the cross, our Lord tortured and crucified. How horrible a crime, and yet out of all this came such good. Through the death of His son, God forgave us our sins and opened the doors to heaven for us!”