Cross Roads (30 page)

“All right, enough already,” he exclaimed. They both smiled as their lips parted.

Clarence walked to his mother and leaned down.

“Hello, Momma, it’s Clarence. I’m your son.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked away, no recognition in her face. “Who are you?”

“Clarence, your son.” And he leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. She smiled, and Tony slid a second time in as many minutes.

This place was different from anywhere he had been, the light somehow muted and visibility masked. He was now looking into Clarence’s face, etched with hopeful anticipation.

“Mrs. Walker?” His voice echoed off invisible walls, as if he were enclosed in a metal cylinder. “Mrs. Walker?” He tried again, but nothing, just the reverberation of his own voice. Tony could see through Mrs. Walker’s eyes that
Clarence had taken a seat next to Maggie and they were waiting. He had carefully rehearsed the message that Clarence had asked him to deliver, but no one was home to receive it.

He panicked as a question came to mind: How was he going to get out of here? He hadn’t thought about that. No one had. Maybe he would be stuck here, how long? The rest of her life? Or maybe when his body was through fighting at OHSU, his soul would join it? Neither possibility was particularly pleasant. And he warred with a rising sense of claustrophobia. Maybe if Clarence kissed her he would return. He wasn’t sure, but the uncertainty made him uneasy.

But being here was right. He could feel it. When Clarence had asked, he had known it was the right thing to do, and it still felt like a good decision. He calmed as he thought about it. When was the last time he had done something for someone else with no strings attached, no agenda? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he was trapped, but he accepted it with a sense of satisfaction, maybe even contentment.

Then the little line-dance hop thingy Grandmother had demonstrated occurred to him. He tried it. Tony now faced a dark wall behind him. His eyes adjusted, and he could make out what appeared to be doors along a dim barrier. Without being able to see himself, as if in a barely lit room, he made his way to the first door. It opened without resistance. A blast of light caused him to look away until his vision adapted. When it did he stood at the edge of a field of ripening wheat that stretched away as far as he could see, grain heads dancing in the breeze to a rhythm known only to them. A path through the field was before him, stretching into the distance and disappearing near a grove of stately oak trees. It was wondrous and inviting, but he closed the door and was again plunged into inky blackness.

Suddenly he heard a voice softly humming. He cocked his head from one side to another, trying to determine the source. It was farther ahead in the direction he was facing and he began to feel his way along. Glancing back in the soft and hazy light, he could still see Maggie and Clarence, holding hands and waiting.

The voice was distinctly behind the third of multiple doors, complete with a familiar latch type that he recognized from his own heart. It made him smile to find it here. It swung open easily, and he entered a cavernous grand and open room. The mahogany and cherry walls were lined with shelves bursting with books. Memorabilia of all sorts, including photographs and art, cluttered the unoccupied spaces. The humming sounded closer and he made his way past another wall of protruding shelving until he rounded a corner and stopped. There she was, the woman he had seen, but younger and very much alive and active.

“Anthony?” she asked, a smile brightening the room.

“Uh, Mrs. Walker?” He stood there, stunned.

“Amelia, please,” she said and laughed. “Come, young man, and sit with me. I’ve been expecting you.”

He did as she requested, startled to now be able to see his own hands and feet. She handed him a large cup of steaming coffee, black, which he gratefully accepted.

“How?”

“I am not alone here, Anthony. I have lots of company. It’s all rather temporary and yet quite permanent. Hard to explain really, how one thing is woven into and yet an extension of another.” Her voice was pure and tender, almost like a tune as she spoke. “The body wants to hold on to its connections as long as it is able. Mine, it seems, like my personality, is rather tenacious.
Tenacious
, I like that word. Has a better ring to it than
stubborn
, don’t you think?”

They both laughed. Their exchange was uncluttered and straightforward.

“I’m not sure how to ask this, but are you able to leave here, this room?”

“For the moment, I am not. Even the door you came through shut behind you and I have no way to open it from the inside. But I am comfortable here. Everything I could possibly need while I wait is available to me. All this you see”—her arm orchestrated the air widely as she looked around—“these are my memories that I am cataloging and storing for the time of speaking. Nothing is lost, you know?”

“Nothing?”

“Well, there are some things not brought back to mind, but nothing is truly lost. Have you ever witnessed a sunset and you know there is a depth in that moment that no camera could ever capture, and you want to hold on to it, to etch it into your remembrance? Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Tony nodded. “I certainly do. It’s almost painful, the momentary joy and then the sense of its absence and loss.”

“Well, that’s the wonder: it’s not lost. Eternity will be the speaking and celebration of remembering, and remembering will be a living experience. Words,” she said, smiling, “are a limitation when trying to speak of such things.”

They sat for some minutes together, and Tony felt he could simply remain content here until it was time for something else, whatever that might be. Amelia reached over and touched his hand.

“Thank you, Anthony, for coming to see an old lady. Where am I, do you know?”

“In a care facility, a rather nice one, from what I saw.
Your family has spared no expense it appears. I don’t know if you realize this, but I came with Clarence, your son.”

“Really?” she exclaimed, standing up. “My Clarence is here? Do you think I might be able to see him?”

“Amelia, I’m not sure. I don’t even know how to get out of here myself, not that I am in any hurry to leave. Clarence told me to tell you…”

“Then let’s see, shall we?” she exclaimed, and grabbing his hand pulled him toward the door he had entered. As she had said, there was nothing that offered a way of exit, only a small keyhole head high. The door itself was old and oak, solid and sure, almost as if guarding the way. Tony could barely make out large figures etched on its surface.

“Cherubim.” Amelia answered the question he had only wondered. “Marvelous creatures those. Powerfully comforting. They love to guard… doors and ways and portals and such.”

It was then that it dawned on Tony. Of course! Reaching inside his shirt, he pulled out the key that he had chosen from the ring. Could it actually be? Hesitantly and holding his breath, he fit it into the keyhole and turned. A blue light pulsed through the thread holding it, and the door swung open, the inside light now spilling out into the room of her eyes. The key then vanished and Amelia and Tony stood, their mouths both agape.

“Thank you, Jesus!” whispered Amelia, quickly moving past him and into the room. Her Clarence and a woman she didn’t recognize were clearly visible through the window.

“Momma?” Clarence looked directly at his mother’s eyes. “Momma, did you say something?”

“Amelia, your eyes are the windows of your soul,” Tony whispered. “Maybe if you talk they can hear you.”

Amelia walked over and faced the transparent barrier, her feelings obvious. “Clarence?” she asked.

“Momma? Is that you? I can hear you. Do you know who I am?”

“Of course, I know you. You’re my sweet boy all grown up. Look at you, you are surely a handsome man.”

Suddenly Clarence was in her arms. Tony didn’t understand how it worked, but it did. It was as if Clarence were inside with the two of them, and yet not. When she smiled on the inside, she was smiling on the outside. When she wrapped her arms on the inside, he was in her embrace on the outside. Somehow she was fully present, and Clarence was sobbing, months of loss all surfacing in a moment. Tony looked at Maggie, tears streaming down her face.

“Momma, I have so missed you, and I’m sorry we put you here, but none of us could take care of you, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you good-bye or anything…”

“Hush, child, hush now, my baby.” She sat down, a small, thin woman holding her man-son in a tender embrace, stroking his head.

Tony cried. Everything he missed about his own mother rose in his memory. But it was a good pain, a right longing, a true connection, and he allowed himself to be carried by its substance.

“My baby,” she whispered, “I can’t stay long. This is a gift from God, this moment, a treasure unexpected, a taste of what you can’t imagine. Tell me quick how everyone is. Catch me up.”

And he did, telling his mother about the babies that had been born, the jobs changed, what her children and grandchildren were up to, the everyday mundane news of life that seems trivial but has eternal weight. Only a breath came
between laughter and tears. And then Clarence introduced Maggie to his mother and they became instant friends.

Tony was overwhelmed by the holiness of the everyday, the bits and pieces of light that surrounded and embraced the simple routines and tasks of the ordinary. Nothing anymore was ordinary.

An hour passed, and Amelia knew the time was approaching for good-byes. “Clarence?”

“Yes, Momma?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything, Momma. What can I do for you?”

“When you come to visit me, would you bring your guitar and play for me?”

Clarence sat back, surprised. “Momma, I haven’t played a guitar in years, but if that is something you would like, I’ll do that.”

Amelia smiled. “I would like that very much. To hear you play is something I miss terribly. Sometimes I am able to hear music when I can hear nothing else, and it is a comfort to me.”

“Then Momma, I would love to play for you. It will probably be good for me anyway.”

“I know it will,” she predicted. “Just remember that regardless of where I am wandering in my inside world, I can hear you in the music.”

She told Clarence that it was time and he nodded, their final embrace long and affectionate. Inside, Amelia reached her hand back and toward Tony, who took it. She squeezed tightly, then turned from the window toward him and in barely a whisper said, “Anthony, I will never be able to thank you enough. This is one of the single greatest gifts anyone has ever given me.”

“You are welcome, Amelia, but it really was God’s idea. It has been my honor to participate.”

Amelia turned back and spoke. “Maggie, come here, sweet girl.” Taking both of Maggie’s hands, she said in the softest voice, “Maggie, you make a mother’s heart sing. I am not prophesying anything, mind you.” She said with a chuckle, “You are worthy in your own right.”

Maggie put her head down. “Thank you, Mrs. Wal—”

“Momma will do, sweetheart; Momma will do.”

“Thank you… Momma.” Maggie had barely uttered the word and Amelia leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Again, Tony slid.

The car ride to their next destination was mostly quiet, each involved in his or her thoughts. Tony guided them back into southwest Portland, down by the river and into the parking garage that housed the abandoned janitorial closet, its unlocked entry barely visible, set as it was into the building’s facade. He told them where to park and then directed them to remove the batteries from their cell phones as well as the SIM cards.

“Smart,” grunted Clarence.

“Clarence, Tony thinks we need to put on gloves.”

“We do,” agreed Clarence, removing two pairs from his jacket pocket. “Tony, I only have two pair, so don’t touch anything, okay?”

“Tony says keep your day job.” Maggie chuckled. “He says his prints are all over this place anyway.”

The two traversed the fifty feet to their destination, careful to walk exactly where Tony told them.

“Stinks in here.” Maggie stated the obvious as she pulled
open the storeroom door. She felt along the wall and flicked on the switch, a single yellow bulb that barely cast light into the junk-filled space. “So this is your secret spy place? I expected more from you, Tony.”

He ignored her and then noticed she was carrying a handbag. “Purse? Really? You brought your purse with you?”

“A woman don’t go nowhere without her purse. What if we get trapped in here or something? I got a week’s supply of everything.”

“All right, sorry I said anything. Just go over to the corner over there. See that rusted box on the wall about three feet up from the ground? Yeah, that’s it. Open the cover and you’ll see a keypad.” He waited until Maggie was ready.

“Now, push these buttons: 9, 8, 5, 3, 5, 5… good. Now, press the Enter button at the same time as the Power button, and hold them for six seconds.”

Maggie did as she was instructed. Six seconds is longer when one has to wait, and she almost let go before a whirring and clicking started and the far wall slid back to reveal a shining steel fire door.