Miracle Woman (33 page)

‘Tell me about your family, Martha,' smiled Glenn as if they were genuinely old friends, just catching up.

Cautiously she told him briefly about her three children.

Josh looked bored.

‘Family is everything, I'm sure you agree!' Glenn said, running his hand along the edge of the table.

‘What about you, Josh? What do you do?' Martha asked politely. The young man shifted in his seat uneasily, keeping his gaze on her face and ignoring his father.

‘I used to work here in the city for Morgan Bank in the stockbroking section but now I'm involved in a start-up of my own, over in south Boston. It was an old mill and we hope to convert it into a few studio apartments, once we get the planning and the costs right.'

‘Start small and grow big, that's what I always say,' smiled his father. ‘That's what I tell all those hotshot Harvard kids and just hope they listen to me. You've got to walk before you can run!'

The chowder, calamari and shrimp were served. Martha squeezed the fresh lemon juice all over her large plate of delicious shrimp and the special house dip. Glenn tucked into his calamari with gusto and noticing two business colleagues at a distant table waved over to them. As soon as he had cleared his plate, he excused himself for a minute and went over to say hello.

‘No matter where we go he knows somebody or they know him, it's always the same,' complained Josh.

Martha said nothing, she herself had studiously avoided meeting the eyes of one or two of the
diners around, who she knew had probably recognized her, and hoped by doing so to convince them they had mistaken her identity.

‘Do you work, Martha?' enquired the young man as he lifted the spoon of creamy chowder to his lips.

‘I stayed home when my kids were small, but now they're getting older I guess I'm trying to develop new things for myself.'

‘That's kind of like my mom. She's got her art.'

‘I do a bit of healing,' she said softly.

‘Is that how you met my dad?'

‘Pardon?'

‘Is that how you met Glenn? Did he come to you for a massage or something?'

‘No!' she insisted. ‘Not that kind of thing, I work with people who are sick or injured, or in need of help.'

‘Well, that lets my dad out, he's as healthy as a horse unless you can cure an over-active dick!'

Embarrassment flooded Martha's cheeks. She was glad that Glenn was not sitting at the table at that moment for he'd probably have floored his son. She chose to ignore the remark and rinsed her fingers in the water bowl, drying them on her napkin. She wanted to make contact with this angry young man, ease the burning resentment within him, but had no idea how to take that first step which would earn his trust.

‘It must have been hard on you when your parents separated?'

‘It happens.' He shrugged. ‘The all-American family is dead and buried in its grave.'

‘You don't believe that,' she said, appalled.

‘Ask the offspring,' he replied sarcastically. ‘You still married?'

‘Yes,' she replied hesitantly, unsure of herself. ‘How is your mother?' she asked, changing the conversation.

‘My mother is doing fine, better than when that bastard humiliated her leastways. Not that it's any of your business,' he added argumentatively.

Martha sighed to herself. Joshua had obviously been deeply hurt by the break-up of his parents' marriage, no matter how much they each claimed to love him.

‘I know how tough it is on kids when their parents break up,' she said, sympathetically. ‘My husband and I recently separated.'

Josh seemed bored.

‘Your father's concerned for you,' she offered, finding herself unusually irritated by his attitude.

‘What the fuck would
you
know about it, Mrs whatever your name is! He's put you up to this, it's another one of his frigging set-ups to try and manage the mess of my life!' Joshua shouted at her.

In the distance Glenn Harris spun around. Taking in the scene, he started to return to the table.

‘No, Josh! It's not like that – honest it's not,' she argued. ‘I'm just offering you some help if
you need it. When I lay my hands on people sometimes it happens that I can lessen their pain, whatever that pain may be.'

He seemed withdrawn, but she could tell he was listening to her.

‘It's up to you if you want to try the healing or not. There are no guarantees, no magic wands, just you and . . .'

‘How you two doing?' interrupted Glenn. ‘Sorry it took so long but I wanted to say hi to my good buddies over at the back. Ray Donnard and I used to run an investment portfolio together when we first left college.'

Their main courses were served and Martha busied herself enjoying the almost blackened, seasoned snapper with sweet potato and fresh green salad. Joshua toyed with his blue fin special, while his father finished off the large tuna steak.

‘I've got to go,' Josh announced abruptly, pushing back his chair from the table. ‘I've a meeting in about twenty minutes' time.'

‘Hey, we're barely finished eating,' his father reminded him. ‘And what about some pie and a cappuccino?'

‘No, Dad, thanks, I'm full. I'm not used to eating such a big meal at lunch,' he excused himself.

‘It was nice to meet you, Joshua,' smiled Martha. ‘Remember what we were talking about, well, here's my number.' She took out one of the
fancy new cards with her office number on that Ruth had insisted she get printed, and passed it up to him.

‘Thanks,' was all he said before placing it in his jacket pocket.

Both of them watched him push his way frantically through the crowded restaurant, lighting up a cigarette the minute he stepped outside.

‘Well, what did you think?' enquired Glenn as soon as their cappuccinos arrived. ‘Did you have enough time to talk?'

‘Enough time?'

‘Why yeah, while I went over to talk to those two guys in the back.'

‘Your friends.'

‘Friends, why heck, Martha, I had no idea who those guys were! I just went up and introduced myself and told the tall guy that I was admiring his suit and asked him who is his tailor. I was just trying to give you two time to get to know each other a little, that's all.'

Martha couldn't believe how he constantly managed to manipulate situations to get what he wanted.

‘We talked a bit, but I'm not sure that Josh is interested in my help, Mr Harris. There is nothing more to do but sit tight and wait. Josh himself must decide what he wants next.'

If Glenn Harris was disappointed in her, he
managed to mask it and on finishing the meal insisted she take a ride home with him. The limousine was parked only a few seconds away.

‘You've already given my family a huge amount of your time, Martha, at least let me do this for you.'

He was a generous man and Martha graciously accepted his offer, the driver dropping him off at his office before taking her on to Easton.

ON MARTHA'S RETURN
visit, the Tanner Radford building was packed to capacity. Those queuing outside were told there was no possibility of a seat and advised to go home. Martha experienced a sudden burst of stage fright on seeing the crowd, and quaked at the long line of people, filing up to meet her, but the wave of good will that enveloped her as she stepped up on the podium helped to settle her nerves. Ruth had insisted on listing those who were severely ill or disabled and seating them in the front two rows, so that Martha could step down to them.

‘We don't want any accidents, believe me!'

Overwhelmed by the immense faith people had in her healing skills, Martha knew full well it would be impossible for her to help everyone, but even if one or two were relieved of their pain it would be something.

She began by saying a quiet prayer, asking the Lord God and the Good Earth to help and guide
her as Evie led an elderly man towards her. It always amazed Martha how many elderly people came to the healings, pushing their way forwards, demanding to be seen, clinging to life. She talked and prayed and laid on her hands until the sweat ran off her, repeating it all the following week in a small school hall in Bronxville, New York, where the hushed crowd of only a hundred people broke into a tumultuous cheer when a middle-aged woman began to weep and declare that the chronic back pain that had twisted her spine had lifted. In Manhattan some of the people had arrived in expensive cars and limousines to the racquet ball club hall they'd hired; Martha noticed it made no difference, as they were plagued with the same illnesses and fears as others.

Ten days after she got back Joshua Harris came to see her totally out of the blue. He'd phoned asking her to come to his apartment but she had insisted that he visit the upstairs room, Kim fixing an appointment for him. Casually dressed, his dark hair unwashed and unkempt, pale skinned and nervous, he'd lit up the minute he sat down opposite her. She was tempted to ask him to put out the offending cigarette, but realized he was only smoking it in order to distract himself.

‘How are you doing, Josh?'

‘Have you seen my father lately?' he asked, fixing her with his green eyes.

‘No, actually I haven't.'

‘OK,' he said, relaxing a little.

‘How are you?' she repeated.

‘I'm crap, I feel like crap. Every bit of me is sore, the pain is so bad that I can't eat or sleep or think. I'm screwed!'

‘Have you taken anything?'

‘I'm not using, if that's what you mean. If I was I wouldn't be going through this!'

‘Maybe the clinic or the doctors you saw the last time might be able to help you better,' she suggested, feeling out of her depth.

‘Screw them. You told me that
you
could help me. I got your fucking card and I came!'

‘I'm sorry, Josh, I'm not sure that I can help.'

He looked up at her, the expression on his face lost, scared. Martha saw that he was in such a deeply agitated and unhappy state that there was no way she could turn her back on him or reject him further.

‘It's OK, Josh, really it's OK. Your body has gone through huge turmoil and change and physical shock. It's probably totally out of balance and that might be why you are feeling so bad right now. The healing should help.'

‘For sure!'

‘For sure.' She smiled. ‘Is it all right if I lay my hands on you and just get a sense of what is happening to you? My fingers and hands might feel rather warm but that's just a part of the healing process.'

She got the young man to stretch out on her
table, ordering him to kick off his trainers and heavy Abercrombie and Fitch hooded sweatshirt as she walked around him, getting a sense of what his energy level and life force were like. She stopped, confused. Both were scattered and weak. The brightness and spirit she usually associated with youth were absent and she felt the darkness and almost impenetrable depression that engulfed him. Every cell of his body had been affected and Martha had to control her expression in order to mask her dismay. He was healthy in that his heart pumped, perhaps a little faster than it should, his blood flowed, his lungs and kidneys and other organs worked yet he was deeply deeply wounded and carried an intense grief and pain, which he obviously had used drugs and alcohol to relieve. This internal wound was festering, poisoning every part of him as sure as if he had a septic cut. He'd been carrying this pain for a long long time and Martha felt that unless he released it his physical body would be overwhelmed.

Laying her hands over his heart she tried to send light into that darkness and to draw some of it away from Joshua.

A shudder went through him. As she worked, Martha realized how sensitive Glenn Harris's only son was.

‘Where does it hurt the most?' she asked gently.

‘All over, I told you!'

‘I know but where is the pain really bad?'

‘My shoulder and head, I guess.'

Concentrating on those two areas, Martha tried to unravel the tension and fear that had buried themselves deep within the walls of his muscles. Finishing off by placing her finger and hands over his head, she had to stifle her own gasp of pain. His mind was in utter turmoil, anger and self-hatred snaking through his thoughts. He had closed his eyes, no longer staring at her, which she found strangely disconcerting. She wanted him to feel a calming sense of peace and to open himself more to receiving the love which he so yearned for.

‘You OK, Josh?' she asked afterward as she washed her hands.

He nodded, his head bent down as he retied the laces of his expensive trainers.

‘I'd like you to come see me again. What about next week?'

He looked up and she could see a flicker, only a tiny flicker, of hope in his eyes. ‘All right,' he agreed.

‘Same time.'

Watching him walk out in the street and climb into the old beat-up Chrysler, Martha wondered how father and son could possibly be so different and have ended up causing so much pain to each other.

THE JOURNEY FROM
Newton to Providence had taken an age, an accident on the highway slowing things as Gina Forrester drove to the Rhode Island nursing home where her father now resided. She had brought him candy and some lightweight pyjamas and a smart short-sleeved polo shirt. For some strange reason she was anxious to see him.

He was sitting outside his bed in a comfortable support chair, and she kissed the top of his head as if he was a child. His lips and eyes smiled at her. There was no recognition, just a response to the kiss and the sight of the bags with her gifts.

‘Here, Dad! You can open these.'

She watched as he pulled frantically at the wrapping paper and cellophane, tumbling the items onto his lap and the bed. The clothes ignored, he stripped a peanut butter cup of its wrapper and began to eat. She laughed: he'd always loved peanut butter ever since they were kids. Any time he'd ever minded them while her
mom was out or away, his solution to feeding them had been a massive plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.