Chapter Twelve

Perhaps I will lie down for awhile,” he said to his mother. He could hardly believe that he didn’t smell the potatoes and fried onions when he came into the house. He had just met the girl of his dreams and wondered if this is what it must feel like to be in love. Henry left the table and trudged to his room. Maybe he was suffering from the same thing his Uncle Ron had when he met Aunt Darlene. He recalled his mom saying that it had been love at first sight and that Ron had been lovesick for her. It would be at least another hour until he would call on Jenny and take her to Balfour Collegiate. He decided to lie down, but still exhausted from the roller coaster emotional highs and lows of the morning, he drifted quickly off to sleep.

As Henry lay there dreaming of that day in the hospital room, still holding Jenny’s lifeless hand, he entered into another dream with visions of Sleeping Beauty. He was running through the woods and arrived in a clearing filled with heavenly wildflowers. There in the middle of the meadow lay his Jenny, asleep on a bed of white daisies like the Sleeping Beauty. He knew as Prince Charming, his kiss had the power to bring her out of her deep sleep. Henry ran towards her, but a man wearing a hooded black cloak was coming towards him, his arms outstretched, trying to stop him.

Henry’s body shuddered when he had first dreamt that horrible nightmare while waiting to take Jenny to Balfour so long ago. He tried to snap out of it now, just as he had back then, but the dream held him firmly as he felt the grip of the hooded man. The man had no face, no life, it was Death.

Rigid and hard, his arms strong, he thrust Henry to the ground and sped towards Jenny. Henry scrambled to his feet in quick pursuit, “I should have known you would come for her. I was warned of this day. I must get to Jenny! I must hide her, kiss her, and keep her from you. Stay away, stay away!”

But Henry was no match for the swiftness of Death; He was way ahead and already at her side. Henry stopped, his chest heaving, catching his breath, desiring to have one last look at his beloved before she was whisked away. As Henry’s somber gaze fell from the darkness upon the light of his Sleeping Beauty… she was no longer there…instead, in her place, was a man in a tan coloured suit, with a yellow flower in his lapel.

Henry recalled the dream so vividly now and as he drew nearer to the site, he should have known who it would be and what had happened. There on the bed of daisies, lay his beloved friend, the one who was always there for him…even now unto death…

“Oh, Father Engelmann, have you given your life for her? For us?” Henry searched the meadow…

“Where is my dear sweet, Jenny!? Jenny, Jenny where are…”

“Mr. Pederson, Mr. Pederson. Wake up.”

Henry abruptly raised his head, but his arm wouldn’t follow, it was asleep and he couldn’t move it. Henry was perspiring profusely, and startled; horrified. Jenny lay before him dead and Nurse Johnson was standing over him, shaking his shoulder.

“Were you dreaming? You were shouting so loudly, I heard you all the way from the nurse’s station.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Henry said, finally orienting himself to what had transpired. “Yes, yes, I was dreaming, the same dream I had dreamt way back in 1956, the day I had met Jenny. It was so real, I had to kiss, Jenny, but Death held me back… a good friend of mine gave his life… Oh, I’m sorry, Nurse, I shouldn’t be burdening you with my silly dream.”

“Oh no, that’s fine, I understand. Times like this can be very trying and dreams very revealing.”

Henry gazed at the nurse still half caught in his dream, wondering if he could go back and search for Jenny. His entire arm began to tingle down to his hand, which was still holding Jenny’s. All feeling was gone. He could no longer discern the warmth or coldness or stiffness of her hand. The strength in his arm had left him as well, and he was completely unable to remove his hand from Jenny’s. A part of him had momentarily crossed over with his beloved.

“My arm’s asleep and I can’t get my hand back,” Henry said sheepishly as he looked helplessly towards the nurse.

Nurse Johnson stepped forward, took hold of his arm with one hand and pried loose his grip on Jenny’s hand with her other. It came free, but was lifeless, and just hung there, limp in the nurse’s hand. It gave both of them an eerie feeling, what it must be like to have one’s blood stop flowing through your veins. The nurse began to rub his arm and move it up and down encouraging the blood to flow.

“There, does that feel better?” Nurse Johnson asked, studying Henry and waiting for his response.

“Yes, it does,” Henry wiggled his fingers, opening and closing his hand.

“You’ve been in here a long time, Mr. Pederson, I was beginning to get worried about you. You have slept for over an hour.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I checked in on you almost a half hour ago and you were sound asleep. I decided to just let you rest until I heard you shouting.”

“Well, I am glad you heard me and came. It was the strangest dream and it seemed so real, like Jenny may have come back to life, if I was just able to find her, kiss her. Kind of silly, isn’t it?”

Nurse Johnson looked at him and smiled and tilted her head to the side as if to say, anything is possible.

“That was some kind of kiss you and Ms. Hamilton had. It certainly touched my heart. It made me think about a lot of things…” Her voice trailed off, not wanting to get into her private affairs. “Well, we have to move Jenny’s body shortly, Mr. Pederson, I will leave you for a few minutes to say your good-byes and—”

“Yes, of course, Nurse Johnson, I understand. Thank you for allowing me to stay for so long.”

“Yes, I am so happy that Ms. Hamilton came out of her coma and was able to talk to you and Camilla. Your reunion and farewell was so beautiful, I am still touched by it all. I will never forget this. Thank you for letting me share your experience.”

Henry didn’t respond. He had known Ms. Johnson was in the room the entire time, yet he had been so caught up in the moment, he’d been oblivious to her presence.

“The lady from Jamaica, I think her name is Matilda, did such a wonderful job in consoling your daughter-in-law. Coming to the hospital to find her real mother so critically ill and to think that you fathered her would be so overwhelming.”

“Oh, my… is that what Camilla thinks?”

“She did. In fact, when I witnessed you and Jenny kissing and all, I thought that was the circumstance, as well. However, Matilda explained that was not the case and when Chloe came out, she too, confirmed that you were not the father, but some other man was. I thought I would pass that along to prepare you for what is ahead.”

“Yes, thank you for sharing that. It is a relief to know that Camilla knows all the true facts.”

“Do you know a James Hamilton?”

Henry wrinkled his face, “Not personally, but I do believe that is Jenny’s former husband. Why do you ask?”

“He was phoning most of the day wanting to know how Ms. Hamilton was. I guess he took Jenny’s passing very hard. In any case he asked us to pass along a message for you to call him.”

The look on Henry’s face grew more puzzled. He simply nodded.

Nurse Johnson went over to the window, moved the drapes slightly to the side and opened the window. Henry knew her intent was to bring in some fresh air and help revive him and bring him to his senses.

“We will see you in a little bit, okay?”

“Yes, I will be out in just a moment.”

He watched as Nurse Johnson left the room and then turned his gaze back to Jenny. She looked as if she were asleep; so peaceful and still. A breeze gushed through the open window, tossing the plastic drape even more off to the side. It felt good against his hot, clammy body. The light coming through the partially exposed window struck across Jenny’s face and spread almost down to the outline of her toes as the increasing wind continued to open the curtains wider. It almost seemed as if the wind and light were trying to give life to Jenny’s body. Oh, how she loved the elements; the wind, butterflies, the rain and especially the sun, were her dearest friends. She so loved life and loved to frolic in it. Henry smiled as he recalled the pleasant thoughts.

Even though Jenny was gone, he sensed her presence stronger than before. He felt as if she were in the room, flying around, carried by the wind, dancing in the light entering the room. He surveyed the room, turning, looking into each corner and then raised his head towards the ceiling. He quickly repeated the pattern, hoping to catch her off guard and fully expecting to see her. He often read that when people die, their spirit leaves their body and floats about, looking down at themselves lying there and all the people in the room.

“I know you are here, Jenny. I feel your presence.” He looked at her body lying in the bed. “No, I know you’re not there, anymore, but I feel your spirit.”

Quickly, he looked up again, hoping to catch a glimpse of her and bumped into the end table, almost toppling the lamp. The drawer was open; a letter shimmered with light inside. He just knew it was his even before he took it out.

It was the last letter he had sent to Jenny in 1956, the one Nurse Johnson had read to Jenny earlier that morning. Jenny must have read it often by the looks of it too. It was beginning to tear at the folds and the edges were soiled and tattered. Somehow it survived the carnage of all the other letters he sent to her father.

Amazingly, the last one he received from Jenny also survived. It looked similar in wear and tear to Jenny’s. He still read it almost every day. It was inside his breast jacket pocket next to his heart; it felt unusually warm. He reached inside and brought it next to the one he was still holding. Instantly, a warm glow emitted from their union. It was almost as if two lost friends had found each other. Henry could feel the joy and love coming forth. The letters were not inanimate objects, but seemed to possess human qualities. Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes at the sight and feel of it all.

At long last together, they truly are angelic letters.

The angels on high had brought the letters together as they did Jenny and him. It was the promise of angels fulfilled. They had answered their prayers albeit the reunion had been short lived.

Henry tucked the two letters back into his pocket and walked over to Jenny. Strangely, he no longer felt sad at the sight of her lying there. She was gone and so it seemed, was the mourning he’d felt earlier when she departed. She was dead and yet alive, although invisible.

Could Father have given his life for Jenny?

The nightmare he had was so real and it would be something Father Engelmann would do. When Henry had recalled that nightmare so many times over the years, he had thought the man in the tan suit, wearing the yellow flower in his lapel was Father. The thought was absurd and yet when he looked for Jenny laying there on a bed of white daisies, there was Father Engelmann. He was certain of it.

Henry gazed lovingly at Jenny. Her lips drew his. They felt strangely warm as he bent over and kissed his Sleeping Beauty for the longest moment.

Glancing upwards, he surveyed the room again. Her presence was so strong, but where was she? He glanced at Jenny. An awkward feeling inched through him, confusing perhaps, but not frightening; rather, he would have to say, quite comforting.