Pewter Angels (43 page)

As she read one of the notes over again, her father peeked into her room.

“’Morning sweetheart, up early I see.”

“Just reading some notes, Dad.”

Ted walked into her room and to her desk. He looked at the scattering of small squares. “Writing notes to your friends?”

Jenny didn’t know if she should tell her dad who the notes were from. She didn’t want to upset him, yet she felt so lonely for Henry she had to talk to someone about him.

“Actually, Dad, these are notes Henry wrote to me when we lived in Regina. We played this game, writing notes to each other and then putting them on our fence-post with an elastic.” Tears rolled down Jenny’s cheeks as she spoke and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

“Ah, Jenny …” was all that Ted could manage before he too got all choked up. Gazing at the tattered and worn notes tore away at his heart. They were all the poor thing had to cling to. By the looks of it, she must have read them a thousand times over. She could very well be reading one the letters Henry sent to her if they hadn’t …

“Oh Dad, I don’t want to upset you, but I miss him so much!

I sent him so many letters and he hasn’t written back even one. We had such a wonderful time together that summer and now it seems it was all a dream.”

Ted still couldn’t speak, he thought his heart would explode. The guilt, the lies, the deception crushed down on him. He put an arm around his little girl and drew her in so hard Jenny squirmed and had to nudge him slightly away.

“I thought for sure Henry would respond to the last letter I sent him just before last Christmas—I even put a gift inside for him.”

Finally gaining his composure and something to respond to Ted blurted out something he immediately wanted to take back.

“Yes, I remember …”

Jenny looked up at her father, her eyes widening. “You remember? I never told anyone …”

Ted was momentarily tongue-tied. “But you did tell me, Jenny, I—I … think it was at the front door, the morning you gave it to me to mail.”

“But Dad, I’m certain …” Jenny gazed into her father’s eyes, confused and wary.

“Good morning, you two,” Edith said as she walked by Jenny’s room. “I’m making a special breakfast. Don’t be long—it will be ready soon.”

“We’ll be down in a minute, Edith.” Ted felt a wave of relief at his wife’s timely interruption.

“Look, sweetheart, I know how much those notes from Henry mean to you, but they are just keeping alive a painful memory. I can see how it’s hurting you, Jenny. You have to let go and get on with your life. What about this James—how do you feel about him?”

“He’s nice, Dad, but it’s just not the same as it was with Henry and me.”

“Well, you have to give it a chance, Jenny. New relationships take time sometimes. Especially for you now … you will be comparing him to Henry for awhile but soon you may get to like him just as much. Give it a chance, honey.”

“I suppose you’re right, Dad.”

“And why not put those notes in a large envelope, seal it and put it away? Pretend you’re putting it in a hope chest along with other things you want to keep memories of. Don’t tell your mom, but I still have a letter an old girlfriend wrote me when I was in college tucked away in a box downstairs, along with pins, rings report cards … you know, stuff that still has a memory or two of times past.”

Jenny shrugged and started gathering up the notes, stacking them into a neat pile. Slowly she reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out an envelope. It broke Ted’s heart to watch his little girl place her notes into the brown envelope and seal it.

“Perhaps you’re right, Dad. The notes are just memories.” Jenny placed the envelope in the bottom drawer of her desk, stood up and gave her dad a hug. Unwanted tears spilled over on his cheeks. Jenny could see how much it pained her father to see her suffer over a lost love. She would have to get over it somehow, not just for her sake but her parents as well.

“Come on, let’s go see what your mother’s made.” Ted put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder and together they walked out of the room and downstairs. The aroma of a salmon quiche baking in the oven wafted up to greet them.

And all at once
, it seemed that Jenny’s heartache stopped. She neither spoke of writing Henry nor asked her parents if any letters had come for her. She began spending more and more time with James Hamilton. The immensity of the relief Ted felt slowly made itself known and he actually began to look forward to coming home. The baby—he couldn’t bear to think of her as his granddaughter—had been born and adopted. It was finally over. Maybe they could finally reconnect as a family. Although he still felt guilt over keeping Jenny and Henry apart, at least the constant reminder of the hurt he and Edith had inflicted on their daughter wasn’t evident any longer.

He’d thought that his need for what he still thought of as the occasional relaxing drink would have waned too, but it hadn’t. And guilty as he’d felt about everything else, he wasn’t about to deny himself the one thing that made it all fade away. Besides, every man had stresses; he was simply coping with his. It wasn’t a problem—it was actually a kind of help. Wasn’t it?

Ted dreaded the upcoming winter. He hated driving on icy roads and was a nervous wreck by the time he got to his downtown office. Added to that was the worry of being pulled over by the police and caught for drinking too much.

And things might be better at home but they weren’t going well at work. He was under growing pressure to produce bigger results and worried the board of directors would soon be asking for his resignation if he didn’t deliver. He had received more and more calls from the board chairman, Mr. Peakan, asking about monthly sales stats and improvement strategies. A couple of quick ones helped him feel he could get back on track.

On the surface
it seemed as if Jenny was finally getting on with her life yet, Ted was still worried about her. She was cheer-leading and had joined several clubs, including the school drama club— she’d been given the lead in
The Wizard of Oz
—and was busy with rehearsals and dates with the Hamilton boy.

Still, though he wanted more than anything to take her smiles at face value, Ted grew suspicious of the change in his daughter. Was she really getting on with her life or was it just an attempt on her part to be so involved in other things that it would shut out her memories of Henry? She seemed to have accepted the adoption of her daughter. She’d found some closure there, but Ted suspected the boy still lingered in her thoughts. Just the other day, when she was talking about James, he was sure she was about to say that the Hamilton boy reminded her of Henry, but she’d stopped herself before saying the name. It seemed his daughter could not erase Henry from her life, try as she might to forget him.

His suspicions were only confirmed and reinforced when Jenny approached him one day at the beginning of November.

“Dad, are you going to make a trip to Regina to check on things there before winter sets in?”

Ted looked at his daughter. The reason she asked was written all over her pretty face.

“No, honey, I have other people looking after that for me.”

“But you used to make trips like that all the time.”

“That was before I became president, Jenny. I simply don’t have time for those kinds of trips anymore and there’s no reason to go.”

I sure have a reason to go!

If looks could reveal a heart’s desire, Jenny’s face displayed it all. It pained Ted to see his little girl so dejected and downhearted. He watched as her eyes lost their sparkle, her spirit its hope. The last glimmer of any chance for her to see her beloved was all but completely snatched away.

Slowly, Ted understood that Jenny’s exuberance and apparent interest in life was, at least in part, feigned, a façade meant to keep herself busy and forget what might have been. For awhile, Ted had thought she’d gotten over Henry. Slowly, however, her longing for that boy crept back—he noticed that though she never asked about letters anymore, she still looked to see if he’d brought any—evidence that her longing had probably never left her for even a moment.

Jenny was full of tears that did not fall, held in by months of sorrow with no closure … or release.

In the same way
his daughter couldn’t seem to let go of Henry, Ted could not let go of the guilt and shame he felt for being the cause of it all. His life at home and at work became a living hell. Nightmarish dreams filled his sleep and his office provided no escape: there were too many memories of his wrongdoing. Each time he sat at his desk he saw the box filled with Henry’s letters he’d had Elaine destroy, or the letters Jenny had written that he himself had consigned to the incinerator’s flames.

As Ted was mulling over these troubling thoughts, there was a light tap on the door. He knew it would be Elaine; he was to get some papers for her from the wall safe. Ted rushed over to the painting, swung it back and dialed in the numbers before she was fully in the room.

“’Morning, Mr. Sarsky, sorry to disturb you.”

But her boss didn’t seem to hear her or note that she had entered his office. Elaine stood there, waiting, stunned by what she was witnessing.

Her boss opened the safe and pulled out two letters, a white one and pink one, held together by elastics. He stopped and stared at the letters with a look of consternation.

“How the hell did you get to the front of the safe?” Ted asked aloud. His face reddened and his voice rose as he went on, “If you do this one more time you’re gonna burn for sure.”

He reached inside of the safe and shoved the letters to the very back. Almost three-quarters of his arm disappeared.

“Now stay there!”

He slammed the safe door shut, spun the dial and swung the painting back against the wall, concealing the safe and its contents.

Elaine was about to remind him of the papers he’d obviously forgotten she needed when Ted’s unusual behaviour continued.

He was studying the painting intently and drew near to it again, his nose almost touching the artwork. He raised a hand to the clouds and began to swat away as if a fly had rested on the white fluffy clouds.

Elaine cautiously stepped closer to see what it was, but nothing was there.

“How did you get out?!” Ted demanded furiously. He shook his head and stared again, and now his voice was menacing.

“You’d better get back there.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the liquor cabinet. He opened the doors and quickly fixed himself a drink, downing the entire glass in one long swallow. And then he poured another.

Elaine watched the troubled man slowly begin to relax.

How could a man as smart and as stable as Mr. Sarsky go over the edge like this? She’d been so impressed by his high standards, and his integrity preceded him wherever he went. Clearly, a wrongdoing would bother him immensely. She knew too, that people with addictions try to suppress those things in their lives they are ashamed of or feel blamed for.

What did he do?
she wondered.

Without any doubt, those letters were at least part of the problem. What was in them that was causing Mr. Sarsky to behave so erratically and feel so guilty about?

Elaine wished now more than ever that she had kept one of the letters when she’d had the chance. Perhaps she would now understand what this was all about and be able to help her boss somehow.

Suddenly words came to his lips. “Why don’t we take a walk to the gazebo, Jenny—I have something I want to tell you …”

Ted finished his drink, closed the doors to the cabinet and had turned to go to his desk when he noticed Elaine.

“Elaine! I didn’t realize you’d come in! Is there something you need?”

“Yes, Mr. Sarsky. I need those contracts you signed with Forbes Company. I have to—”

“Oh. Yes, certainly. They’re in the safe.”

“You were about to get them for—”

But Ted was staring at the painting again. “I have something I need to do, Elaine. I’ll bring the contracts out to you later.”

“I need them before noon.”

“Of course. I’ll have them to you momentarily … and by the way, Elaine, would you cancel my appointments for next week? Edith and I are going to the cottage for a few days before winter sets in.”

“Certainly, Mr. Sarsky—you have been working very hard lately, a few relaxing days at the lake sounds wonderful.”

Ted gazed at his secretary and wondered vaguely how long she’d been there. What had she seen? Or heard?

As soon as she left, Ted walked over to his chair and sat down. He again began to compose his conversation with Jenny. A walk to the gazebo would be the perfect way to begin his confession. The thought gave him some peace. But maybe it was too late? Jenny was always so at peace around nature, the sunshine, even the now-dormant plants around the gazebo had a kind of comfort in them, a promise that spring would return. There, he too could draw on nature’s solace and find the courage to sit with his daughter and tell her what he and Edith had done.

But the sky out his window was grey and the serenity of that scene in Ted’s mind was quickly clouded by the turmoil his confession would cause rather than the freedom that lay just beyond. The valley in which he now lived was too low, too far in the shadows of his misgivings to catch even a glimmer of light and hope.