Pewter Angels (35 page)

Ted stopped still, drink halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, words unfolding as the thought bloomed in his mind. “So, what you’re saying is that there was no physical violence or trauma, that Jenny passed out and was unaware this even happened, that—horrible though it is—she has no memory of it.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Well, let’s at least be thankful for that. To think what Jenny went through, it’s best that she’s been spared that awful memory … it’s actually … kind of a blessing.”

“
Blessing
? Blessing! Ha! You sound like Jenny. She claims her guardian angel saved her from all that. God! I don’t understand either of you! This whole thing is a nightmare and the sooner she’s out of it, the better for all of us. After all we’ve done—”

Edith’s rant continued, but all Ted could think about were the pewter angels locked in his safe. A cold chill shot down his spine and he swallowed another mouthful to quell it. “Yeah, that’s some story, all right. Jenny sure trusts this guardian angel,” he muttered to himself. After reflecting on it a moment longer and wanting to make certain he had heard correctly, he interrupted, “So really, if it hadn’t been for the fact that she conceived a baby, Jenny wouldn’t have any memory of a rape even having occurred?”

“That’s what she says,” Edith huffed. “But I
still
think she’s making it all up. Jenny has quite an imagination—and she’s obviously protecting that boy.”

“You’d think, though, that if it was Henry she’d say so. At least then she’d have an excuse to contact him, to tell him he’s the father and has some say in all this. Especially with the way she feels about him, you know? And yet she doesn’t … maybe she
is
telling the truth.”

“Oh, Ted, don’t you start in with this nonsense. You can’t believe her for a minute! She was with that boy every blessed day. They were probably fooling around and he got too close to her. This whole story about being raped then saved by an angel so she can’t remember a thing is next to impossible, Ted. She’s just protecting that boy. I’m so glad we got her out of that city when we did!”

“But, it doesn’t make any sense, Edi—”

“In any case,” Edith lowered her voice, “perhaps it’s a good thing she denies Henry’s the father.”

“What do you mean?” Ted asked, bewildered. Four drinks and he was having trouble following his wife’s train of thought.

“Well, look at it this way, if she won’t tell us who the father is, we don’t have to search him out or concern ourselves with him at all. And she’s far too young to raise a child on her own. That leaves two options: abortion or adoption.”

“My God,” Ted set down the glass and put his head in his hands, “What’s happening to my little girl? How could her life get so complicated so quickly? These damn moves of mine have been so hard on this family.”

Edith’s tone grew hard and brittle once again. “This isn’t
your
fault, Ted. Jenny should have known better. Always so lively, so full of life, always so ready to try everything out. Well, it finally caught up with her.”

He looked up. “Now, Edith, that’s not fair. Her liveliness and—and sparkle are why I love her so much. But she just hasn’t been herself since she left Regina. She’s hurting, and I think we’ve only added to that hurt by destroying the letters she gave me to send … and destroying the letters that boy sent, too.” Ted lifted his glass and took a final swallow.

“Ted,” she said, and the word was a shard of ice, “I’m not going there anymore. It’s done. We have a much bigger problem to deal with now.”

Dr. Breck set
up an appointment for Jenny to see a psychologist. Jenny, already so despondent over the loss of her boyfriend, and now carrying the child of a boy who had forced himself on her, could easily have compounded her dilemma by slipping into seductive thoughts of suicide. Yet something within her, perhaps her spirit for life, came to her aid.

She knew the baby in her womb was already developing, was already establishing its identity. The more she thought about it and felt its shape, the more her maternal instinct emerged. She began to love the child, sweet and innocent. How could she possibly abort it or reject it? It wasn’t the baby’s fault. This child hadn’t asked to come into the world. And with each of her letters to Henry going unanswered, she knew all too well what it was to be unwanted. She couldn’t do that to a baby. Her baby.

In the end, after counselling, and repeated and heated discussions with her parents, they all agreed that if she wanted to give birth to the child, then it was best to give the baby up for adoption. Jenny had only one stipulation: whoever adopted her child must agree to the names she had selected—Henry, if it was a boy and Camilla, if it was a girl.

In all the heartache and emotional turmoil, three small things were in her favour: the baby was small and didn’t show very much, even by the end of February—February was a cold month and Jenny could easily conceal her pregnancy under heavy winter sweaters; and, since the night she’d discovered she was pregnant, she hadn’t suffered any morning sickness and so hadn’t had to miss school.

The Sarskys decided to keep Jenny’s pregnancy a secret, even from the school. The fewer people who knew about it, the better. When Jenny could no longer conceal her condition under winter apparel, her parents would simply tell the school she had mononucleosis and needed to stay home. Dr. Breck had agreed to write a letter indicating Jenny was not well and required home care and rest. Ted would pick up her homework every day on his way home from work.

Devastated, deprived of Henry and now completely dependent on the wishes of her parents, Jenny didn’t confide in any of her new friends. She felt more alone than ever.

She yearned for Henry now even more than before. Her heart broke a little more with every day that passed with no letter. The support of her parents wasn’t the same as having Henry’s love.
Oh, if only the child was Henry’s.
If only Henry had made love to her, she would keep the baby and raise it.

Jenny thought about phoning Henry and telling him. But what would he think of her? She been dirtied, sullied by someone whose name she couldn’t even remember. Perhaps that was why Henry didn’t write. Maybe he’d heard that guy had had sex with her that night and was disgusted with her. And now that she had a baby … another man’s baby … surely that would scare him off. The more Jenny thought about it all, the stronger her conviction that Henry probably wanted out of their relationship.

Deep down, however, she knew it wasn’t true. Henry still loved her. She knew it. But the only one she could tell, the only one she could cry her shattered feelings to, was her angel.

P
eople who are not from the prairies
don’t know what cold is. February passed in a deep freeze and it looked like March would be just as cold. Each day seemed more frigid than the last. Thirty below, and with the wind chill, it was almost sixty degrees below zero. Spit froze before it hit the ground, and the snow was so frozen and packed that it squeaked when Henry walked on it. No car engines roared to life, they just laboured and groaned. How cars even started and moved through the glacial temperatures was a mystery to Henry. An Arctic cold front had swept down from the north to settle over the prairie provinces and it showed no signs of moving on.

“Make sure you wrap a scarf around your face, Henry,” his mother hollered from the kitchen. “Skin freezes in less than thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, I did,” Henry called back, his words muffled by wool.

“They should close the schools when it gets so cold,” Mary said as she walked out into the hallway.

“I’m all for that,” her son replied.

Henry wore long underwear, winter boots, three sweaters, a toque, deerskin mitts lined with sheep’s wool and, at his mother’s insistence, a scarf wrapped twice around his face. He’d worn the same thing for the last six weeks to survive the walk to and from Balfour.

“Well, see you after school, Mom.”

“’Bye, hon, have a nice day,” his mom replied, ready to close the door behind him.

As Henry walked up Broder Street towards College Avenue, he passed Jenny’s old house. An elderly farm couple had bought it about two months after the Sarskys had left for Ottawa. They were nice, but he wished with all his heart that Jenny still lived there.

Over ten weeks had passed since he’d sent his last letter to Jenny and still there had not been one word. Every day he rushed home to look at the table in the hallway where his mom usually put the incoming mail; each day he had to swallow his disappointment.

He wanted to tell his mom and Mr. Engelmann he’d written Jenny at Christmas but was too afraid to admit he’d done such a foolish thing. And he was reluctant to admit he’d broken his promise to Mr. Engelmann: if no reply came after he sent that box of letters, he was supposed to accept the fact that it was over and get on with his life. But with all those Bing Crosby songs at Christmas-time, he had felt compelled to try one final time. He had been so sure that his guardian angel had prompted him to send off another letter … and finding that pewter angel had seemed like a miracle at the time. But she hadn’t replied.

Had he imagined the whole thing?

Henry kicked at the snow and cursed the cold as he walked along, anything to expel the hard knot of anger growing inside. He knew what Mr. Engelmann would say to counter the negative thoughts he was entertaining but wasn’t quite ready to let go of his pain.

God’s ways are not our ways. His will for us may not be our will or what we want. God’s time is not our time.
“Yeah, well, then, when
is
God’s time?” Henry muttered through his scarf, “when I’m dead and gone?” His heart ached for Jenny. “What good could possibly come from all this?”

Mr. Engelmann often said that if people trusted God, all things would turn out for the best. How could that be? Was God planning some big reunion? Henry kicked at the snow again. That was just false hope, he wasn’t really accepting things and moving on. If some good came from it, fine. But it was just too painful to keep his hope alive.

Henry was surprised to realize he didn’t feel as cold. The wind had abated somewhat, but it was more the heated debate churning through his mind that was keeping him warm. He could see his breath through his scarf before the exhaled air dissipated. Frost formed on his scarf so he looked like he was wearing a white beard. Spiky lines of hoarfrost clung to tree branches, which appeared brittle, ready to snap if touched. Yet the snow and frost made everything around appear like a fairyland, so pure, clean and white.

Henry took a deep breath of frigid air. It warmed a bit as it passed through the two layers of woolen scarf before entering his mouth and lungs. It still stung but it made him pay attention to where he was. Without realizing it, he had crossed College Avenue and was only another two blocks from school. The traffic wasn’t that heavy, probably because a lot of cars hadn’t started that morning and many people had decided to stay home.

As Henry neared the school, he studied the other students rushing towards Balfour. Everyone was all bundled up, concern over what they looked like finally taking a back seat to keeping warm.

Although Henry’s love life was still in turmoil, everything else was in complete control and moving ahead better than he’d expected. He was a straight “A” student. He was popular enough with his classmates, although he didn’t go out of his way to be. He was still sort of friends with Timmy and corresponded with Gary, who Henry felt was still his best friend, every second week.

And ever since Henry had accepted his Phys. Ed. teacher’s challenge to work with Eddy, Henry found his anger towards him dissipating; there was a dramatic change in their relation ship. That in particular, just as Mr. Neader had predicted, had made a huge difference in his life in other areas too.

Henry tried to like everyone and treat them with respect whether they were popular or not. He spoke his mind honestly when asked his opinion, and questioned and challenged issues he didn’t understand or that didn’t seem right. His friends respected his sincerity and knew he wasn’t an attention-seeker. It was just how he was. Others saw him as a leader, consistent in his behaviour and choices made based on sound values.

One of the results of Henry’s attitude was his election as a student rep. He enjoyed being on the student council and the fact that he had some say in making important changes within the school. Irony of ironies, Eddy Zeigler had nominated him. Henry smiled when he recalled the day he’d told Mr. Engelmann, who had smiled and nodded. “See, Henry, how the Lord will bring good out of even the worst circumstance!”

The blast of heat when he entered the school felt good on his face, though his cheeks burned and he suspected they might have frozen. Henry put his hands over his cheeks to help warm them as he headed upstairs towards his locker.

He was looking forward to second period: art. It was his favourite class. The art teacher, Mr. Victor, was an amateur artist and displayed his work at craft shows. He was explaining his thoughts behind his work as Henry entered the classroom later that morning. His landscapes had very little detail, usually a clear blue sky and a strip of landscape that changed in colour from one painting to the next. “I’m trying to reduce the prairie view to its basics: land and sky.”

Mr. Victor had told Henry he had a lot of potential and always commented positively on Henry’s drawing skills, colour sense and element placement in his paintings. He often told Henry that his artwork had good composition and captured the life of prairie people and land.

Henry liked the graphic arts part of the class too. He used that time to design a logo for Mr. Engelmann’s store. When Mr. Engelmann had last ordered brown paper bags, the salesman had said it didn’t cost too much more to put a logo on them. Henry thought it would help advertise the store. They were already very busy and Mr. Engelmann hadn’t been too sure he wanted to advertise his name on bags that would be just thrown away, but Henry had convinced him that keeping the store’s name in people’s minds was a good thing. If they needed anything, chances were they would come to Engelmann’s rather than Safeway. In the end, Mr. Engelmann had agreed.

Henry was also working on coupons they could hand out to their customers and put in mailboxes. He had just finished a coupon the day before. It showed a picture of Mr. Engelmann’s storefront on the upper left hand corner, with address and phone number, the products on sale listed in the middle and their slogan across the bottom:
Your neighbourhood grocery store, where customers are family with free delivery and service with a smile.
Henry had made a coupon in January, advertising products left over from Christmas. They had sold most of the items simply by reducing them by ten or fifteen cents. Most people liked a deal and were happy when they could save some money. It made them feel like smart shoppers.

The day passed very quickly and Eddy was waiting for him at his locker after the last class. Lately, they had become a force to be reckoned with in their basketball games. They anticipated each other’s moves and were always in the right spot to receive a pass. Eddy’s size had proved to be a great advantage, especially against taller players.

It was funny; the one thing Henry liked most about Eddy now was the cocky, brazen attitude he’d so despised last summer. Although Eddy had become a little more respectful of others, he always spoke his mind, never fearing that he might offend someone. He didn’t live for approval, something Henry was guilty of all too often. Henry always knew where he stood with Eddy.

Eddy also had his share of admirers and never had a problem getting girls to go with him to school dances. Because of his height, it looked like the girls were dancing with their kid brother. But that didn’t bother either Eddy or the girls. There was something about his swagger that attracted girls like flies, and when Henry thought about it, he realized it all came down to how Eddy saw himself.

Eddy had never considered his size to be a disadvantage, had never felt shy or that he wasn’t good enough. His cocksure manner somehow wooed the girls—one girl in particular. The school was still buzzing about how Eddy had hired a florist to deliver a bouquet of flowers to Hilda Spooner in front of the school during lunch. The very next weekend, Hilda and Eddy went to a movie. Girls glared at Hilda with envy as she and Eddy strolled down the hallway holding hands. Heck, Henry envied Eddy the hand-holding too, and he had to push away thoughts of his walks with Jenny.

“Hi, Eddy,” Henry said as he landed at his locker.

“Hey, Hank, how ya doing? Geez, did this day go fast.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Are you heading home?”

“Yeah. Ready to face that cold?” Eddy said. “I hear the wind is down, which makes it a bit better.”

“Wait up. I’ll walk with you.”

They walked down Winnipeg Street, talking about the previous Friday’s basketball game. The conversation lagged when Eddy reached for a package of Black Cat cigarettes

“There’s something I really need to know, Eddy,” Henry finally said, shrinking further into the hood of his jacket. “I won’t hold it against you. I just want to know the truth.”

Eddy shook a cigarette out of the package a bit clumsily with his gloves, put it into his mouth then looked up. Their gazes met.

“I want it straight, Eddy.”

Eddy pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, and as the smoke streamed out of his mouth, he said, “Okay, Hank, whaddya want to know?”

“I want to know what really happened that night your friends took Jenny to the park. Did they really do it to her?”

Eddy sighed another stream of cigarette smoke into the frosty afternoon. “Okay. Here’s the way it went down. Pete said he did it to the blond chick, but John said that just as Pete was about to start, a car pulled up—which turned out to be you guys. John said he grabbed Pete and pulled him away and they took off. John didn’t think Pete had enough time to do anything, but Pete says he did. Pete was pretty drunk that night, Hank,” Eddy snorted. “Personally, I think it’s all bull—big talk and nothing more.” Eddy took another long drag of his cigarette. “And that’s it, Hank.” He coughed as the smoke and the cold air irritated his throat. He shrugged; there was nothing else to say about it—except …. After a long pause, he asked, “Did she … Jenny, did she tell you what happened?”

“Yeah, she said nothing happened. Her wrists and arm were sore from being dragged into the car, but that’s about all she said—”

“Well, what are you worried about then?” “Yeah …”

“Whatever happened to that chick, Hank?” Eddy asked. “I remember seeing you and her talking in the hallway last fall. She looked like she was crying.”

“She moved away to Ottawa.”

Henry was going to tell Eddy that he had written and written to her and hadn’t heard from her since, that he missed her and loved her, but decided he really didn’t want to get into it.

“Well, if she’s gone, I’d just forget about it. Find someone else.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best.”

Henry changed the topic back to basketball.

When they reached the corner of Victoria and Winnipeg, Henry turned east towards Mr. Engelmann’s store while Eddy continued on home. He’d sounded so sure that nothing had happened to Jenny, but Henry was still uncertain. What if Pete had done it? What if Jenny was even pregnant? If she was—he did some fast adding—she would probably have the baby around the beginning of June. He shook his head to rid it of those thoughts.
Don’t be ridiculous
.

He was creating a problem out of nothing.