The House (31 page)

“In what, my ability to be perfect? Or that I have needs, and don’t lie about them?” Elijah slammed his hand upon the table, causing Anna to jump. “I’m human, Elena.”

Anna had and would never again witness her father so disturbed. Her mother did not veer her attention from him. “I’m just saying—”

“You don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” Elijah confessed. A watery film of redness filled the white encircling his large brown irises. “You doubt me,” said Anna’s father. “You don’t love me as a man. But you cannot accuse me of lacking faith in God.” Elijah’s words carried vehement strength. “I’ve preached too hard and long in doing the thing I love, ministering. You will not take that from me. No.” He threw down his fork.

“What are you saying?” Elena egged on.

“I’m saying that I’m not God. Not your god, not the church’s god, no one’s god. I don’t have all the answers. Neither can I get them, not all of them. I will preach the word, as best I know it. I will tell the truth about my own struggles. Perhaps that will comfort my flock.” His brown raging eyes appeared to settle. The redness cleared, but not the mist. Whatever had stirred them never truly died.

During her mother’s last days over a decade later, Anna sensed her father struggling and tormented by what had driven him to speak with such anger and hurt. By then, Anna had lost what little roots of faith her mother had planted. She had yet to join the Catholic Church, her mother’s religion. The question remained and fueled Anna’s doubt. Had Elijah been unfaithful to Elena? And if so, why? Had he, like Anna, longed for a show of affection, a sign from Elena that he mattered? In his yearning, had Anna’s father sought and received comfort elsewhere?

Anna lifted Edward’s hand. Guilt for having refused to come when her mother asked to see her one last time descended upon her like a white sheet of despair. Anna felt dingy and blackened by her refusal. Parts of Anna craved to abandon Edward like she had her plans for selling the house and moving to France. She had stopped the divorce proceedings, turned her life upside down, and taken him in. But had she halted everything only for him?

Edward opened his eyes. Slowly, he tried to smile. Failing, he licked his lips then in a low rasp uttered, “I’m sorry for abandoning you all these years.” Anna lowered her head as he fought to speak through the clouds of death settling around them. “I’m sorry ... truly ... please ... forgive... ”

“I forgive you,” Anna whispered.

Edward murmured, “I was the one who lost out.”

Anna’s chest grew full; the pain within threatened to overwhelm her. She clinched her jaw against a low moan that managed to slip through.

“You have to go on,” Edward said.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that? I hardly know you. Thirty goddamned years and I don’t know you. We were supposed to spend a lifetime together.”

“You know me better than you think,” Edward uttered. A sad smile overtook his face as if it were a death mask.

“You were supposed to tell me who you are, we were supposed to learn about each other. You cheated. You quit.”

“This is who I am,” Edward said. He raised a weakened finger and lowered it upon his chest. His eyes were like those of Elena when searching the Reverend Elijah’s face concerning the doubt and faith he had preached.
I’m not your god. I can’t be.

Anna held tightly to Edward’s hand. “This marriage was sup posed to set me free.” Anna sobbed. “I’m not your mother. I worshipped you in the beginning.” She considered the women, Edward’s women, tried seeing their faces. How many were there? She would never know
.
She placed her other palm underneath his, and sandwiched his hand between hers. Her head dangled; a stream of tears descended first upon her hand holding Edward’s, then onto her lap. Their trail obliterated Anna’s vision of the carpet where her feet rested. Edward’s night shoes lay beside them.

Why all the women? And why is God is taking him now that the approach of illness has delivered him to me? Helena McGrath’s words returned from hours earlier
. He was hurting and searching. The women had been but way stations in the trek to find his mother, and then his way back to you.

Anna crawled onto the bed and took Edward’s frail and withered body into her arms. She brushed his head. What were those women like? She failed at wiping the thought from her head. They were
her
obsession, or rather what Anna imagined that she lacked, what had driven Edward to them. Anna had proven herself faithful. She had not abandoned Edward as she had her mother. The circle of thoughts would not let her go.

“Moments,” Edward said in more certain terms. His breath growing more shallow ebbed and flowed. “They were but moments, just moments. Stella ... Esther ... Gabrielle ... all moments in time.” He breathed in as if it were his last. Now fifteen minutes into the morphine Bertrice had given him, Edward struggled to make each breath. “I love you . ...”

Weeping, Anna laid her head upon his chest. “You cannot die
.
”

Her will was no match for the universe’s divinations. “If you felt that way then why did you leave me so many times?”

Edward said, “You thought I was your mother.” Anna cringed at his awareness of her truth.

Edward’s eyelids fluttered as he strained to keep them open. “The house was all I had,” he rasped. “My mother never had one. I wanted ... needed one as a child ... a home.”

“I only wanted you, not the house,” Anna sobbed against the pain of cradling his dying body in her arms. The conversation was traveling in circles, leading to oblivion. Anna would emerge changed, but not where she desired.

Edward lifted his eyelids. The brightness and sparkle never strayed from her gaze. He connected one last time. Edward with Anna then drifted off to sleep. Anna sobbed, not knowing if he would ever open them again.

Some moments later, Edward parted his lips. He fought to speak. “They were never you. Only moments in time. You ... you ... you were ... an eternity.” His words though slurred, settled upon Anna’s ears and heart with an uneasy clarity.

Anna pulled the Ecuadorian rosebud, now pink, from her sweater pocket. She brought it to her lips, then laid it upon Edward’s chest. She kissed Edward’s forehead. Though warm, he remained silent and still.?

Chapter 44

Anna’s call to Bryce was brief. “Edward has died.” She again spoke those words to David, Theo, Linda, Serine, and then Father Richard.

Hours later, she sat at the kitchen table. The rosebud from Helena McGrath’s garden lay before her with Anna’s wedding band beside it. And next to that the
Tricycle Magazine
to which Edward seemed to have grown attached during the last few weeks.

Images of him reading as if mesmerized by the words upon its pages streamed before her. He had been reading it upon Anna’s re turn from a weekday morning Mass after which she had met with Father Richard. Edward had put it aside when she confronted him about Stella and Esther. He had returned to reading the magazine, had continued to do so when Serine and Grant had argued on the other side of the pool. Anna had last caught him reading it when, following the horror of the board meeting, she had burst into the bedroom.

In the dim glow of the kitchen light, she stared at the Buddhist nun on the cover. Forgiveness was the theme of the issue. She peeled back the cover of the magazine and thumbed through the pages until reaching one with the right corner folded back. The dog-eared page held several underlined sentences. “
Penitence and the Art of Forgiveness
” read the title at the top of the page. There was a picture of the Buddhist nun beside the title of the article that she had penned. In this second image she wore an orange robe, lighter in fabric than the burgundy one she donned on the cover of the magazine.

With Edward’s body now in the mortuary, Anna began reading

We are all seeking forgiveness or penitence for something. We have all been treated wrongly. We have all acted incorrectly at some time or another.
Anna scrolled down, noting the passages wherein sentences were underlined, words that had apparently moved Ed ward.
Salvation is granted to those who acknowledge their regret, and to those who possess the strength to show mercy. Her eyes moved across the page.

Misdeeds demand something of both the wrongdoer and the person who has been hurt, a change of heart. That is the grandest miracle. It is what both must undergo, the wrongdoer and the one mistreated. Each is hurting. Out of regret and sorrow for her or his hurtful actions, the wrongdoer must ask forgiveness. Likewise, the person who has endured suffering on account of the wrongdoer’s actions is called to display mercy. Should either one default on their responsibilities: the wrongdoer fail to acknowledge and apologize for her or his actions, or the oppressed one refuse to show mercy in the face of the wrongdoer’s penitence, both are lost... Our salvation rests in the hands and hearts of each other. It is rooted in our ability to change the rhythms of our hearts. None of us are safe until all of us are rescued.

The gold wedding band on the table drew Anna’s attention. She brought it to her lips and tenderly kissed it. The Ecuadorian rose bud took on a shade of orange, not unlike that of the second robe worn by the Buddhist nun. Closing the magazine, she clutched it to her chest.

“Oh, Edward,” she wept.?

Chapter 45

The funeral took place four days after Edward died.
Good Friday,
Anna silently termed it as she stood before the grave site amid the crowd of two hundred or more surrounding her and the children. Edward had died on a Monday, the day for the graceful child. He exited this life on earth, while lying in Anna’s arms, she having granted him a peace and tranquility that while not encompassing all understanding, had certainly touched her heart and soul. Born on a Saturday Edward G. Manning had worked hard throughout his life. That quality formed the essence of his identity, and the common denominator that drew those who came to bid him fare well. It stood as the most positive quality for which people would remember him.

The face of the Buddhist nun on the cover of the magazine loomed large in Anna’s mind as Father Richard spoke. Anna closed her eyes and recalled words the nun had penned, sentences that Ed ward had underlined.
None of us are secure until all of us are saved.
It offered a maternal perspective—loving one’s children and wanting the best for them despite their misdeeds and shortcomings. It rep resented unconditional love at its greatest, something with which Anna’s mother seemed unacquainted. Always obedient, Anna had grown up feeling as if she was under the spotlight of her mother’s eyes. She had never pushed the envelope and tested Elena’s affection. As with Edward, Anna had never known the depths for which either her mother or her husband had valued her until death drew near.

Anna slipped her hand inside the left pocket of her black jacket and felt the Ecuadorian rosebud now limp. She fingered her gold wedding band. Unlike Edward, it remained strong and sturdy. David tightened his grip on Anna’s right hand. Theo patted her left shoulder. Tears filled her eyes. Again Anna stroked the rosebud in her left pocket.

Father Richard spoke of Edward Manning, the family man.

“Edward Manning was many things to many people. Some of those things weren’t what we always liked or wanted. Others were more than we expected. He surprised many of us in the end.” The crowd released a round of laughter, evidencing their agreement, and startling Anna. “Despite what thoughts or opinions we held, all of us respected Edward Manning’s work ethic.”

Anna had wanted to make the services private. Bryce had advised otherwise. Among the mourners, several rows back, stood Pierce Dawson, Elliott Thompson, and Harrison Filbert, who had sold their shares in Manning Ventures. Claiborne Rochester, Ephraim Hennessey, and Chester McGee, who had remained shareholders and trustees stood in the line behind Anna and her children. Helena McGrath was absent. Inman had left a message on Anna’s cell phone,
I’m sorry about Edward. You’re in my prayers.

Father Richard continued as he unfolded a piece of paper. “I spoke with Edward Manning before he died. Here, I have words that he wrote and asked me to read.”

The priest approached David. David squeezed Anna’s right hand. “To my eldest, David, I wish you and Heather all the happiness in the world.” David’s lip trembled. Anna felt herself sinking as if the ground was opening up to consume her. To the right of David, Heather drew Josh and Emily close to her. She wiped their faces and then her cheeks. David’s attention never wavered as the priest continued. “You have been all a father could want and hope for in a first-born child and elder son.”

Father Richard turned to Heather and read, “It pains me that I didn’t get to tell you this in person. Heather, I know I didn’t often say it, but I love you.
Truly
. Take care of David. Kiss Josh and Emily for me. I’ll say hello to your father, if I’m blessed to see him.” Heather lowered her head and nodded in agreement. She then burst into tears. David, stoic and reserved, maintained his grip on Anna’s hand.

The priest proceeded past Anna to Theo at her left. “To my second son,” he started. Anna would not look at Millicent standing beside Theo. For all intents and purposes Edward’s death had certified Anna’s conviction that if given the chance she would encourage Theo to divorce the woman. Theo deserved better. Anna had wanted more for him. “You stood apart from your elder brother, but you never fought him,” Father Richard read Edward’s words upon the paper. “You looked up to David. But you were your own man. You respected your brother. For that I respect you. I love you. And I love Millicent.”

The priest turned to Millicent. Eagerly she lifted her head. “And to Millicent—” She wiped her face as if to receive a blessing. “You remind me of myself when I was just starting out. Certain things can’t be rushed. Sometimes we must let life come to us. And if we can’t do that ... well,” Father Richard squinted in an effort to make out Edward’s writing.

Anna glanced at the casket containing Edward’s body above the earthly hole into which it would be lowered. What might Edward have been thinking when writing the words the priest now read? Had he felt tired, overcome, and sad? Anna didn’t hear Edward’s words that Father Richard had continued reading, rather the ones that remained in her heart.
I was scared... afraid ... moments in time. That’s all they were. Moments, barely seconds, 1f any. You. You. You are an eternity.

A second round of laughter from the mourners startled Anna once more. She saw little humor in the situation. The voices settled. Father Richard stepped beyond Millicent to Serine. Bryce placed his hand upon Serine’s shoulder. Anna gave thanks for Bryce’s presence.

“Serine. You’re our baby, the youngest part of me and your mother. You hold the brightness I held toward life when starting out, the glory I sought in taking risks despite my fears. You are the best of what I offered, what old age and worrisome experience can never jade.” The irony of Edward’s use choice of words, ...
what I offered... old age ... worrisome experience ... ,
filled Anna’s chest. Serine was truly her father’s daughter. What spark of youth or hopefulness had remained for him to put these farewells together and then ask Father Richard to read them?

The priest’s eyes took on a kindly glow as he read Edward’s last words to Serine. “Don’t be afraid.” Anna imagined Father Richard’s experience of transferring Edward’s words to the youngest of the bereaved children was the closest the priest would ever get to being a parent. “Never fear, I am with you. Right now.
Always
.” Serine was a lost child. Lacking the capacity to embrace that loss, she was unable to let it inform her of where to allow life to take her next. Grant and Matthew in the line behind her seemed ready to accompany Serine wherever she chose to journey. Choosing with whom to travel would be Serine’s challenge, a task Anna no longer faced in her own life. With Edward dead, and Inman but a shadow of the person she thought him to be, Anna would make her trek into the future alone.

Against lips unable to remain sturdy and stiff, Serine began to cry. Edward through and through, Anna mused as she observed Bryce place his arm around Serine’s shoulders. Again she gave thanks for Bryce. Father Richard patted Serine’s hand. He then grasped Bryce, Millicent, and Theo’s, and did the same.

Walking past Anna, the priest handed Linda the remaining pages of Edward’s letter. Linda accepted the words her father had penned and held them to her chest. It struck Anna that Father Richard had yet to read Edwards’ words to Linda. With Father Richard and Brad on either side, Linda came to Anna. Anna’s stomach began to churn. Linda removed the letters from her chest. Slowly she began to read from the one on top. Anna’s lips trembled and her breathing slowed as Linda read Edward’s words to Anna.

“I won’t start out with my dear wife. That’s too dramatic. Be sides, it obscures the true nature of our relationship.” Every urge to have Linda stop reading rose and died. David and Theo drew close and tightened their hold on Anna’s arms. I don’t want to hear this! I don’t want to hear this, Anna wanted to silence Linda. I don’t ... want ... to ... More tears flowed.

“Anna, you mean everything to me. I didn’t show it. Believe me, I’ve suffered for that. What I don’t want is for you to ache now that I’m gone. Do not blame yourself for my shortcomings.” Linda’s voice began to crack. Brad rubbed her back. She breathed in. Edward’s words with Linda as the medium spilled forth.

“Some of us are so afraid and fearful. We’re wrapped up in terror and never realize what’s gripping us. Caught up in doing whatever it is we think will take away the pain, we never recognize how we’re hurting those we love, and those who love us. We are running from the beast.

“This battle becomes our all-consuming affair to escape the demons within the ones who wear our face and stare back at us each morning, neither recognizing the other, both terrified. Yet what frightens us most is that if we take one moment and let our selves love, better yet,
be
loved, and receive the affection people like you offer, we will disintegrate. But in the end, love tames the beast, turns it into our friend. The two become one. We see ourselves for who we really are. I was the beast, Anna. You endured me. In the end your love helped me meet death. For that I thank you.”

After what seemed a lifetime, Linda folded the letter and handed it to Father Richard. Brad then lifted a black case. Linda opened it and lifted out a bow, and then, her violin, the one Edward had brought her from Strasbourg when she was fourteen. Linda placed the wooden instrument under her chin, and tuned it. Slowly, and with her stomach exhibiting a motherly bulge, she played “
Lo, A Rose ‘Ere Bloometh.
”

The sad and lilting melody filled the air and erased all traces of laughter from moments earlier leaving only the sound of the violin strings followed by the silence separating the notes. It was in those spaces, as she again fingered the Ecuadorian rose within her left pocket that Anna heard sighs and sniffles. Memories edged upon her chest and consciousness. She wrapped her fingers around the petals that had opened and bloomed in the hours following Ed ward’s transition. Anna’s muted sobs poured forth.?

Chapter 46

Edward’s death and all that came with it was surreal. Within eight weeks, he arose and relived his life only to die again, this time his bodily presence extinguished from the earth. Anna considered the graveside ceremony and the reading of Edward’s letter bearing messages to each of them, a spectacle. And yet Edward’s words had stirred her heart. She could not cease crying.

With anger as her defense she said to Linda in a subtle, yet biting tone, “It was just like your father to create a scene.” Anna sat across from Linda and Brad. All three rode in the limousine taking them back to the house where attendees of the graveside services would gather one last time. “His life was filled with drama,” Anna continued. “It ended with more of the same. And now his funeral and these letters. Those letters,” she repeated. “And he didn’t even address one to
you
,” she again spoke to Linda. Anna’s elder daughter lowered her gaze as Brad raised his eyebrow, something he rarely did, and almost never in response to anything Anna said or did.

After a momentary silence, Linda said, “Mine was the first he wrote. It would have been the only one, but I encouraged him to write others.”

On reaching the house, Anna wanted to rush inside, lock her self in the upstairs bathroom and expel her insides. Beneath the surface of her annoyance and anger, she wished to die. She could not,
would not
, say that. It would mean telling the truth. She missed Edward. But how do you grieve the loss of what you never possessed, or mourn someone you barely knew? Things would never be the way they were during those last days with Edward, how she had wished them for their entire marriage. Anna had expected that her love for Edward to fade with his passing. Perhaps she was grieving the loss of her own expectation.

Linda’s words from weeks back haunted Anna as she greeted guests at the repast.
For one time, you’re telling the truth.
She felt dishonest in seeing to the comforts and needs of her guests while she, the bereaved, failed and ignored her own desire for comfort. Seeing to others in deferment of herself had been her life. After greeting everyone and encouraging them to eat, she headed for the stairs. She would lie down then perhaps the people would be gone and Anna could set out on the trek of living life without Edward. No sooner that she had reached the first step she heard, “Mrs. Manning.”

Anna turned back and saw Grant. He approached her and ex tended his hand. “My condolences,” he said.

“Thank you for coming,” Anna said. She felt awkward that Serine had not invited Grant to stand with the family at the gravesite. Grant had instead stood with Matt, the two of them behind Serine in the line ahead, and next to Bryce all too eager to comfort and support. Anna would have to do something about that.

Grant said, “I’ve told Serine to take as much time as she needs. We can spare her for a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Anna could barely speak the words. The shame of how Serine had misled both Grant and Matt still churned within her stomach, and wrenched Anna’s emotions.

“I thought it was the least I could do since she came clean with me.”

“Oh?” Anna said.

“She returned my ring. She said that the idea of marrying frightened her and that she would not make a good wife in light of how her father had behaved toward you.”

Anna took a hard swallow. “It seems Serine realizes that she needs some time to think, and grow up.”