Authors: Cathy Lamb
She had even written us each a note on her pink paper. The notes said, ‘I love you. I always have, always will. Momma.’
Momma was silent for a minute and we let the wind surround us, calm and quiet.
‘There was nothing to forgive,’ Momma said. ‘We can’t imagine what that poor man went through. His knee was broken with a hammer. Two fingers were chopped off with a machete. He was beaten and starved. This was after his
second
tour in ’Nam, after he’d lived in the jungles that time for more than a year, after he’d been shot at, and had shot at others, after watching half of his unit killed during one night-time attack, to say nothing, young lady, of all the other horrible things that happened there that vets,
to this day
, won’t speak of.
‘When he was ready, knew his life was in order, knew he could offer something, he thought about coming back. But he was worried his return was selfish, that coming back would upend our lives, add stress and renew anger and hurt. But I’m so glad…’ she brushed at those bright eyes. ‘I’m so glad your dad came home.’
‘You’re still in love, after the turbulence you went through, the levelling negativity!’ Janie said. She put down a pile of classics she’d been clutching on her lap.
‘I am. I could never stop loving your dad, just like I can’t stop loving you three crazy girls and Henry.’ She glared at us, not wanting us to get all mushy.
She slipped her hand in her pocket. ‘Anyhow, look what your silly dad gave me the other day.’ She pulled out a cheque made out to her and signed by Carl Bommarito. The sum was enormous. ‘He collected his back pay from the government – which was supposed to forward the money to me when you were kids, but didn’t because they lost their brains in their own bureaucracy.’
I gaped. We all gaped.
‘It’s also the money his parents left him, in stocks, when they died. The money was supposed to go to me and you kids, but your dad left with two papers accidentally unsigned, so the money never reached us. He never knew. But see what happens when you leave your money in the stock market for thirty years, girls?’
I leant back against the swing. Lord, she was rich. She would not have to worry about money again.
‘Your dad told me that I deserved it for all I went through. Silly man. He told me to give a cheque to you three girls, too. So here they are.’ She pulled out three cheques, signed by Dad, and handed them to us.
I blinked.
Sheesh.
We sisters could forget about working, too.
But all that money got us sisters thinking. I didn’t need the money, neither did Janie, who could buy France, and neither did Cecilia.
But we knew something that did.
The Henry Bommarito Animal Shelter opened eighteen months from the day our idea hatched. We donated our cheques from our dad, held several fundraisers, received money from many animal groups, money from the city, money from our friends (I can’t believe I can even say ‘our friends,’ as if the Bommaritos are normal people), money from Momma and Dad, and Dr Silverton, who had transferred to the high school before he’d asked Cecilia out on a single date but then…tra-la-la… Cecilia said, ‘We couldn’t resist.’ Momma liked Dr Silverton, calling him a fearless giant, not like Parker, who ‘thought like a man with a small dick.’
We received a chunk of money from Cherie, and an awesome big chunk from Bob The Man in Charge. Bao gave (‘Hurting animals, hurting people, all the same,’ he said), and Belinda pledged two dollars a week for the cats. ‘I like cats,’ she told me. ‘They always smile.’
Funny enough, we found out that Grandma actually did have a stash of money. Hearing all the excitement about the Henry Bommarito Animal Shelter, she whispered to us sisters, ‘Come with me. I’ll show you where my secret is hidden.’ We followed her up to the tower room at the top of the house on tiptoe, as she insisted. She then surprised us by picking up a hammer and smashing a hole clean through the wall.
And there it was. Stacks and stacks of dollar bills. Grandma’s secret added up to $22,000.
We pretended to donate the money, but it went right into a savings account for her. ‘Thank you, Amelia,’ we said, in all seriousness. ‘Thank you.’
She saluted. ‘Anything for my co-pilot. I miss that man in my plane. So do the natives.’ She sniffled.
‘Me too, Amelia,’ I said, hugging her close. ‘Me too.’
‘The natives here love me,’ she said, hugging me back. She farted. ‘Gas in the tank!’
So we had our shelter.
It was huge and clean and we put Paula Jay and Dawn in charge of it, and Paula Jay declared, ‘You see, your brother keeps on giving! He keeps on giving!’
Janie and Cecilia and I held hands the night before the ‘grand opening’ party in front of the shelter, moonbeams beaming on down.
The dogs and cats from the old shelter were going to be ceremoniously walked/carried to the new shelter down the street, parade style, with most everyone I knew in Trillium River coming. Janie had bought five hundred T-shirts with pictures of dogs and cats on them in front and ‘In Memory of Henry Bommarito’ written on the back, which we would be giving out for free.
The high school band was playing, the church choirs were singing songs about animals, plus ‘Jesus Loves Me,’ the seniors were sponsoring a Bunco game to raise money for the shelter, the church parishioners were holding a silent auction, and the firefighters in town were serving a spaghetti dinner with ‘stringy cheese,’ Henry’s favourite.
Momma and Dad and Grandma would walk next to Paula Jay. Momma would be carrying a picture of Henry. Father Mike would carry a banner the church made with Henry’s name and a shimmery gold cross on it. Cecilia and Janie and I and all the other people we love like crazy would come next. Riley was wearing a dog bandana and a shirt that said, ‘Scientists are sexiest.’ Kayla was wearing a grass skirt, and Velvet was wearing a new purple velvet dress and purple velvet hat.
Belinda would carry Joe, that ragged cat, who I had bought a new pink bow for, and Bao would come after decorating the table centrepieces with flowers from his garden. Lytle would wear Henry’s favourite dog shirt.
The students and teachers at Cecilia’s school made construction paper dog and cat hats with ears. There were also lizard hats, a goat, four cows, six monsters, a Tazmanian devil, King Kong, and a witch hat.
We had invited Dr Remmer to come with her two dogs, and she agreed. When she arrived the next day, the male dog had a blue bow on, the female pink. A sign on their backs said,
JUST MARRIED
.
We had dog and cat treats waiting for the four-legged animals and giant cakes in the shapes of mutts, German shepherds, and a big fluffy white dog ready for the two-legged animals. All of the Bommarito family had baked them, together.
We’d commissioned an artist in Joseph, Oregon, to make a bronze statue of Henry for the entry. His curly hair was blowing in the wind, he was smiling and waving, and he was holding a fluffy dog, with a big mutt standing beside him and a cat slinking around his tennis shoes, Velcro snaps visible.
We stood around that amazing statue holding hands, and we three sisters snuffled for our Henry, but we stopped when the wind suddenly kicked up and swished our short/fluffy/curly hair all over our heads.
‘I feel Henry,’ Janie sighed. ‘He’s in the wind.’
‘Knock it off, Henry,’ Cecilia snapped, although I saw the sheen in her eyes. ‘Dammit! I’ve got a date with Larry right after this and you’re messing up my hair!’
I laughed. ‘You got big angel wings, didn’t you, Henry? Yeah, yeah, you did.’ I put my arms straight up in that windy air and twirled around under the moonbeams, under the stars, under heaven, right by Henry and his smile and his angel wings. ‘I love you, my brother. I love you.
Yeah
,
yeah
.’
The suggested questions are included to enhance your
group’s reading of Cathy Lamb’s
Henry’s Sisters
.