Angel Song (8 page)
He winked at her, trying his best to look conspiratorial. “Tell you what I will do. I’ll go inside, hang around, do the socializing thing. Then I’ll make a big production about leaving, being sure to mention how tired I’m sure you are, how you probably need some time alone, those kinds of things. I’ll see how many of the others I can suck into my wake as I go.” She did look exhausted, so it shouldn’t be that hard to pull off.
“That would be much appreciated.”
“Consider it done, then.”
The two of them walked to the kitchen entrance. Ethan hurried forward, opened the screen door, and reached for the doorknob. “Shall we?”
She paused before walking through the door and looked at him. “Really. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” Ethan held the door until she walked through, then followed just in time to see Danielle put an arm around Annie.
“There you are. Come right over here and get something to drink and a bite to eat.” She pulled Annie in the direction of the modified buffet assembled on the kitchen counter.
“I don’t really—”
“Bah! Don’t even start with that. You need to keep up your strength. Let’s see, how about some finger sandwiches and sweet tea? No one goes hungry when I’m in charge. Besides, you’ve never lived until you’ve tried my famous wild mushroom grits. Right, Cindy?”
Old Mrs. Edwards looked up from her post at the buffet table. “Let the poor kid choose her own food, Danielle. Honestly.” She nodded toward Ethan. “Looks like young Ethan’s already offering his assistance. She don’t need any from us old women. Don’t you remember your youth at all?”
Ethan held his breath. Mrs. Edwards had spent the last five years determined to get him “married off.” Surely she wouldn’t start that at a time like this. He let out the breath he’d been holding when she reached across the table and squeezed Annie’s arm. “How you holding up, sweetie?”
“She’ll be holding up better when we get some food in her. Now tell me what you want on here.” Danielle grabbed a plate and started filling it while Annie looked on, mouth slightly agape.
Ethan smiled, thankful for these women who had loved Sarah and would do anything they could to help her sister. Now it was time for him to start working the crowd and helping in his own way.
Group after group, he’d join the circle and agree with the conversations about what a wonderful person Sarah had been. And she had been. So wonderful. He thought of all the ways she’d helped Tammy and Keith over these last few years, the way her smile could brighten anyone’s day. The loss to them all was almost unbearable. It just didn’t make sense, and there could be no denying that. But Ethan’s current concern was Sarah’s older sister; he just couldn’t shake the compulsion that he had to help her. So he’d say his bit about Sarah and then add, “Poor Annie looks absolutely exhausted.” Just planting the thought in everyone’s mind.
He saw Ann talking to Mrs. Williams, an eightyish-year-old woman with gray hair and large trifocals. He walked over just in time to hear Mrs. Williams say, “Sarah was such a giver. She was always taking care of people, driving me places after I broke my hip, bringing the groceries by. And not just for me, for a lot of other people too. Heaven has gained the most beautiful flower yet in the garden of the saints.”
Ann choked on the coffee she’d just sipped and started coughing. “Garden of the saints?” she said.
“The place where her Maker can always delight in her, just like we did while she was here on earth.”
Something about the look on Ann’s face made Ethan fairly sure she was reaching the point of hysteria. He needed to do something—and fast. “Mrs. Williams, could you help me with something for just a minute?”
She looked up at him, her face eager. “Why, of course.”
“Right this way.” Ethan led her away from Annie, then leaned down and whispered, “Ann looks so exhausted. I’m wondering, do you think we should start hinting that it’s maybe time for people to go on home so she can get some rest?”
Mrs. Williams nodded briskly. “Exactly right. I was just thinking the same thing. I’m going right over to Mildred and Ethel and tell them they’re about to overstay their welcome.”
Ethan was almost positive that she had not been thinking the same thing, but she was his ally now, and he wasn’t going to question her. “Thanks, I’ll get the Seidls and the Langmos.”
“Right.” Mrs. Williams walked faster than Ethan had seen her move in some time—a woman on a mission.
Ethan walked up to Elli Seidl. “This has been such a sad day, hasn’t it? Sarah was such a wonderful person.” He scrubbed his hands across his face and nodded in Ann’s direction. “I think I’ll be leaving now. I know it’s been a long day for Annie, and she’s got lots of things to take care of. The poor kid must be worn out. I think I’ll leave her to get some rest.”
“Oh yes, you’re probably right. We probably should get moving.”
Five minutes later a mass exodus had begun. Ethan walked past Ann, who was saying her good-byes to a group of guests. She looked his way, and he nodded, just barely. She reached back to rub her neck and dipped her head slightly in response. It seemed as though a silent friendship had been formed.
The garden of the saints?
This was the comment that almost started the inevitable breakdown—complete with screaming and tears, Ann was sure—but she knew she needed to avoid that, at least until after these people left and she could be alone. So she tried to remember the words to “Eleanor Rigby.” How did that song start? Something about Eleanor at the church? The words wouldn’t come to her, but the process of trying to remember had granted her at least temporary self-control.
Ethan had been like the pied piper of the crowd, because almost everyone began their good-byes right after his. Ann had never been so grateful to anyone.
Now she was alone, except for Danielle, Tammy, and Keith. “These casseroles all go back to the church.” Tammy towel dried the last of the rectangular dishes and set it beside the other six or seven. “All the rest have names on the bottom.”
“Right.” Danielle looked up from the notepad she was writing on. “I’ll drop those by tomorrow.” She looked toward Ann then and nodded toward the counter. “Those are the cards from flowers, et cetera, which I’m sure you’ll want to acknowledge.” She looked around the room. “All done?”
“All finished here.” Tammy wiped the counter. “You’ve got our phone numbers, right? You know you can call either of us day or night, and we’ll be here for you.”
“I’ve got ’em.” Ann looked toward the typed list that Danielle had hung on the refrigerator. “Thanks. For everything.”
“That’s what we’re here for.” Danielle hugged her, and she, Tammy, and Keith walked her out to the driveway and bade her farewell.
Ann was pretty confident that Tammy was going to stay until told to leave, and since she was ready to be alone, she set about doing just that. “Bless your heart, thank you so much for all you’ve done.” The “bless your heart” had been an intentional addition, as Ann had learned long ago that preceding even the bluntest comment with this phrase seemed to make it acceptable in southern society. Too bad Sarah wasn’t here to see this. She’d spent the last few years complaining about Ann’s increasing New York–ishness. What was it she’d said once when Ann was recounting the story of a conflict at work?
“Annie, you’re getting
downright Yankee-fied
.
”
Yeah, that was it. And she’d said it in a perfectly horrified voice, as if declaring Ann had the plague.
Sarah.
The thought almost knocked her to her knees. Sarah. She was gone.
“Oh, no problem at all. I’m just so happy I could do something to help. Sarah loved you so much. I know she’d want me to look after you.” Tammy reached out and grasped Ann’s hands. “I bet Sarah is watching down on us and smiling right now. I’m sure she’s happy to see that we’ve become friends.” Tammy released her grip and started back toward Sarah’s house.
Hmm . . . it might take some New York bluntness to get this one out of
here
. But Ann remained determined, at least for these couple of days, to be as polite as she was capable of being, for Sarah. “You know, Tammy, I’m really tired. I think I’m going to take a hot bath and call it an early night, okay?”
“Oh, of course you’re tired. You go soak in a hot tub and relax. Get to bed early. That’s what you should do. Do you need me to stay for a while?”
“No!” It came out harsh, but Ann couldn’t control it. “You’ve done . . . so much already. I think a little alone time might do me good.”
Tammy looked doubtful but stopped walking and looked toward her own home. “Okay then, but you’ve got to promise you’ll call me if you need anything.”
Ann held up two fingers, which she thought was like a Scout’s honor kind of thing, but having never been a Girl Scout, she wasn’t sure. “Promise.”
“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then. I’ll bring something over for breakfast.”
Breakfast? Time for another round of diplomacy. “You know, I’m not much of a breakfast eater. How about I’ll just see you around, okay?”
“Oh . . . well . . . sure. Sure. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon, then. Come on, Keith. We need to get home.”
“Bye, Annie.” Keith threw his arms around Ann and hugged tight. “I love you.”
The words stunned Ann all the way to the bone. “I . . .” No other words would come. She hugged him tight, but when the urge to cry on his shoulder became almost overwhelming, she pulled away. They needed to leave, and fast, or she was going to break down right here in front of them. Ann focused on deep breathing.
“Come on, baby, we’ve got to go home now.” Tammy took Keith’s hand but looked toward Ann. “You call me if you need anything. I’ll be over here quicker than you can get the phone hung up. I did give you my number, right?”
“Definitely. Completely covered.”
“Right. Well, come on, Keith. We’ll be back to see Ann tomorrow. Okay?”
“Bye,” he said again, then turned to follow his mother.
Ann walked back into the house and closed the front door behind her. That’s when the breakdown began.
Ann floated through a balmy sea, completely enveloped in its warmth. She
couldn’t remember when she’d felt so peaceful, so happy, so loved. As she continued
to float, she became aware of a vibration around her that seemed to ebb and
flow with the rhythm of waves crashing in the distance—but no, it wasn’t waves.
It sounded like . . . wings. Each beat whooshed in rhythm with the next, creating
a music all its own. Peaceful. Filled with a love so amazing it penetrated to her
very marrow. She wanted to stay here forever
.
A dull ache in her back began to pull her from the scene, but she still heard the faint hint of the music. It wasn’t loud—it seemed to be coming from a great distance—but the tune was unmistakable. Ann couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep, so she forced her body to an upright position, then flipped on the table lamp at the end of the sofa. Finally, the music faded and disappeared.
Obviously it had been a dream. Again. Her current situation was nightmarish enough without all this nonexistent tripe messing with her mind. These dreams, this music, they needed to stop. Right now. According to the clock on the wall, it was just after 2:00 a.m. She stretched her cramped muscles, picked up the remote, and spent the rest of the night mindlessly pushing buttons, never pausing long enough on any single channel to really know what was on. She couldn’t relax enough to even consider sleep—although whether it was from grief or fear of dreaming unearthly music, she wasn’t certain.
It was Keith; he was the one who was doing this to her. He was the one who had her thinking about angels and wings and songs—paracusias—that were best forgotten. Perhaps it would be better if she avoided him altogether today.
As the rising sun began to blaze through the lace curtains, she stood up to stretch. After a few nights sleeping on this too-short and too-sagging sofa, she could feel all thirty of her years, and she thought maybe she even felt a few she hadn’t lived yet.
Tomorrow afternoon, she was flying home. If she could just make it through another day and a half here, she would be away from these constant reminders of what she’d just lost. The confusing blur of faces and names that Ann could never recall. Sad smiles, tight hugs, words spoken in hushed tones. And flowers, endless deliveries of flowers. This in spite of the fact that Ann had requested donations to charity in lieu of them. She began to thumb through the stack of cards Danielle had left for her.
One card in particular drew her attention:
With sympathy, Patrick Stinson
It infuriated her that Margaret had told him. He’d known all about it when Ann had called his office yesterday, and whether Margaret’s motive in telling was to convince him to work directly with her instead, or to gain sympathy and secure the contract, Ann didn’t know. Somehow she suspected that Patrick Stinson was a man not much given to sympathy when it came to business matters. But at least this was a reminder that she had another life, with dreams within her reach, in another place, away from all this.
Sometime during the rush of yesterday’s grief she’d formulated a plan. Now she was in the driver’s seat, and now was the time to make the call to put it all into motion.
She smiled as she hit the speed dial on her cell phone, the rush of adrenaline making her feel better than she’d felt in days. “Marston Home Staging, this is Jen, may I help you?”
“Hi, Jen, I need to speak to Margaret.”
“Well, well, I always thought people spent time in the South to slow down and remember their manners. Didn’t know it worked in reverse and some people actually got uptight and rude.”
“Sorry. Not thinking. Please and thank you.”
Jen laughed. “That’s better, not particularly heartwarming, but better nonetheless. You okay?”
“Really, Jen, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Oh sure, sure. Like I’m supposed to accept that as genuine right about now. Just one second and I’ll patch you through.”
The phone clicked almost instantly. “Ann. So good to hear from you. Are you making progress on the Stinson presentation?”