The Visitation- A Halloween Tale

“Don’t be afraid, Daniel,” he said to me, “for from the first day that you purposed to understand and to humble yourself before your God, your prayers were heard. I have come because of your prayers. But the prince of the kingdom of Persia opposed me for 21 days. Then Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me...

Daniel 10:12-13

   The cool, fall breeze rustled through the surrounding maple trees while dislodging some of the amber colored leaves before twisting and spinning them to their final resting place upon the ground. That time of year had always been her favorite. Although it marked the end of summer’s reign of bountiful life, warmth, and flowers, there was always something energizing about that particular change of seasons. 

   That particular late October evening was no exception and she waited with anticipation for all of her costumed visitors to arrive. She had never been one to celebrate the dark side of Halloween,  but she also couldn’t resist the fun of passing out large quantities of candy to eager neighborhood children who had waited patiently all year for this opportunity. Seeing their smiling faces at her door, always lifted the young woman’s spirits, as she had no children of her own.

   But, there was more to her story than that. Having no children was far too simple an explanation. Even as she greeted the smiling faces at her door each year, there was always an accompanying element of sadness which she was very careful to suppress as much as she could. She strove to find some solace among the laughter, but it remained elusive. Countless had been her prayers. Countless had been her tears. The heavy weight remained. 

   Perhaps that year would be different. She poured the assorted bag of candy into her large, orange Halloween bowl and placed it by the front door in anticipation of her first visitors.  She was sure that the evening would follow the same pattern as it had most other years. Usually, in the late evening before sundown, the youngest children would arrive first having been driven by their parents so that their short legs would not fatigue too quickly before they had gotten their limit of candy. The older children would then arrive next with the final group being the young teenagers whose love of candy still outweighed any embarrassment produced by wearing a costume.  She took one last quick look outside her small home to make sure that she had remembered to turn on both the outside house lights as well as the orange colored decorative lights that she had strung around her front porch banister. She then stepped back inside to grab a quick bite to eat.

   Like clockwork, the children began to arrive exactly as she expected. The youngest children were always the cutest and she adored watching them waddle up her steps in their costumes to reach with wide-eyed excitement into the bowl of treats. She didn’t mind them taking more than one handful of candy as their hands were small and she had made sure to buy plenty of candy that year. Even before the youngest groups had completely finished, the slightly older children begin to roll in with larger numbers than the previous year. She didn’t recognize many of the families, most likely because they had come from surrounding neighborhoods. After all, the better candy you offered, the more trick-or-treaters you could expect. She found herself so caught up in the excitement that she almost failed to notice one small child who was dressed as a ghost in a simple white sheet. Her initial thought was that the child resembled one of the ghosts on the Charlie Brown Halloween special. However, as far as she could tell, he had not been brought by any adults or family members but seemed to appear in the group on his own. The small phantom would never approach her with the other children to get his treats but would simply stand at a distance, motionless. She was unable to see his face and yet she had the uneasy sensation that the pair of eyes underneath that white sheet were fixed directly on her. She attempted to approach the child after greeting the other children, but as soon as she refocused her attention on him, he had vanished.

   For a short period of time, she did not see him again until, to her surprise, he reappeared later in the evening when the older kids begin to make their rounds. She was handing out candy to a larger group of teenagers when she suddenly noted him again circulating outside of the main group at the bottom of her front steps. He again made no sound and did not approach but continued to place his full attention on her. He seemed larger than before, almost as if he had grown to match the age of the trick-or-treaters. The other children who were present seemed to pay him no attention, as if he was not there at all. She also noted that the ghostly covering was no longer purely white as it had been previously, but had a crimson hue which seemed to darken with the shadows. Disturbed by this mysterious visitor, she had made the decision to approach and confront him but she was delayed as the last of the teenagers stepped into her path to get her share of the candy,  However, the ghost had disappeared as soon as the young woman turned again to face him. With all of the trick-or-treaters temporarily gone and the evening getting later, the young woman looked around her porch and in the surrounding landscaping for anything suspicious but saw no sign of her strange visitor. Satisfied for the moment that she was alone, she walked back up her front steps and opened the creaking storm door before entering her house. Perhaps because of that evening’s visitation, she turned and bolted the door, something that she usually did not do. Then, cradling her bowl of candy in her lap, she sat down in the front foyer and watched her front door in the event that some late trick-or-treaters decided to arrive. She was swirling through the remainder of the candy in her bowl when the weariness of her day finally caught up with her. Leaning her head back against the wall, she drifted off to sleep.

   A scuffling sound on the front porch awakened her from her slumber. Her first thought was that the noise was likely from a raccoon or possum as both animals tended to roam through the neighborhood at that time of evening. A flash of crimson/white flashed briefly across the window causing her pulse rate to quicken. What appeared next was even more terrifying as the head of the earlier phantom, still clothed in his crimson-tinged covering, slowly tilted into the frame of the front door’s window to stare in directly at her. The apparition was even taller than it had been when she last saw it. Startled, the young woman quickly stood to her feet, dropping her bowl of candy onto the floor. As the treats scattered across the wooden floor, she watched in horror as the front door knob turned and the door opened slowly, its lock still remained firmly bolted yet offered no resistance. As she continued to back away, the door suddenly flung open fully and revealed her unwanted guest. 

   “Who are you?” she cried in terror, continuing her slow retreat. 

   “You don’t remember me?” asked the inhuman voice. It’s tone held no redeeming qualities, full of only hate and malice.

   “How could I?” came the trembling response. “I’ve never met you before tonight. And even if I had, you’re completely covered.” 

   “You spoke the truth when you said you’ve never met me before. You made sure that would never happen. But, oh, you remember how close our connection was.”

   She continued to back away.

   “We shared life. You felt me move.” 

   It couldn’t be.

   “Don’t you remember what you did to me?” the voice hissed as the visitor’s covering changed completely to blood red. 

   “Oh, my heavens...no...” came the weak response as all of the old pain and guilt burst into new flame. She bumped into the hallway table and the lamp fell to the floor with a crash and the sound of shattering glass. 

   The crimson apparition suddenly lunged for her and with a scream she turned and ran to her bedroom at the end of the hallway, all the while feeling its foul breath on the back of her neck. She immediately slammed her door and locked it knowing full well from her earlier experience just how ineffective that would be. She collapsed sobbing onto the floor, fully expecting the door in front of her to open just as the previous one had. However, the door remain closed and the only sound was the sound of scratching on the other side of the door as if claws were scoring the wood.

   “Try to hide,” the hissing continued. “It’s what you do best. But you can’t hide from me. From what you did. From the innocence you so selfishly took.”

   She covered her ears but nothing could drown out the words. As horrible and terrifying as the voice was, perhaps the most terrifying part of all was that she could not deny the truth. 

   “If you have anything against me, you need to take it up with my Father...” she spoke as she tried to resist with what faith she had, but her answer was interrupted by unearthly hissing and spitting from the other side. The door trembled and the claws dug deeper into the wood. 

   “Your Father!” it bellowed from the other side. “Your Father! I’ve seen your so called Father and He wants nothing to do with you! You killed one of His own! Is that something that you think He merely overlooks?”

   “Father, you promised...” she whimpered. 

   “An eye for an eye, little girl. That’s what He wants. That’s why I’m here. It’s what you deserve.”

   A pale, clawed hand shattered the middle of the door and broke through to the other side. 

  “Please...”

   “Beg all you want. He’s not listening.”

   “Help me...”

    Just as her words fell, all became silent as the young woman became aware of a new sound. It was not associated with the creature outside her door, but was nonetheless close by. It had the distinct sound of feet hitting the ground, reminding her of a landing paratrooper. Organized. Not chaotic. The pale hand withdrew from the ragged hole in the door. 

   “That is enough!” a new voice boomed.

   “I thought I taught you a lesson.” the hissing responded.

   “I’m a terribly slow learner.”

   The entire house was then suddenly filled with the sound of an intense struggle. There were the constant sounds of booming and shattering accompanied by hissing and screeching. Initially paralyzed and unable to move, the young woman finally gathered enough strength to crawl to the door and peek through the jagged hole. What she saw before her defied all logic, yet she could not deny what was directly in front of her eyes. 

   Her tormentor remained in the hallway but was no longer wearing his crimson covering either by choice or because his adversary had ripped it off.  She could now see that he was tall, thin and very pale, almost like death itself. His long, spindly arms terminated in fingers armed with the same dagger-like claws that had destroyed her bedroom door. The mouth snarled and hissed constantly. His most striking feature, however, was the pair of eyes which glowed with a pale chlorine green color and protruded from the gaunt features of his face. 

   But he was not alone. Opposing him was what appeared to be a smaller man dressed in what most closely resembled a military uniform, although its design was completely foreign. On his shoulders were emblems that appeared to be two winged creatures facing each other with their heads bowed and their wings swept forward with the tips touching. His most striking feature, in direct contrast to his opponent, was also the pair of eyes but in contrast his shone with an unearthly but beautiful shade of blue from which only compassion and sacrifice poured. No matter where his pale opponent attacked, he continued to interpose himself between the creature and the shattered bedroom door.

   But he was hopelessly outmatched. The blows with which the creature struck him rattled the entire house. The soldier fought back valiantly for every inch that he was able to push the creature back from the door. Yet, the gains were only temporary as a quick counter attack by his opponent threw the soldier back against the bedroom door, drawing a scream from the terrified woman. The creature then grabbed the front of his uniform and swung him violently against one side of the hallway and then the other, completely smashing him through the drywall. The white, chalky dust swirled throughout the hallway and engulfed the two combatants as the soldier was forced to his knees.

   “You should have never come back,” the hissing chided. 

   But just before the final blow was to be delivered, there followed a second sound of feet hitting the ground. Almost instinctively, the creature released the defeated soldier and turned to face a new arrival whose sudden appearance behind him was almost hidden by the cloud of dust. 

   What the young woman saw through the haze was what appeared to be another man dressed similarly to the first soldier, but whose uniform bore insignia which appeared to indicate higher rank. He was much larger than the first soldier and was even larger than the creature itself as his head barely cleared the ceiling. The same piercing blue eyes shone from his face, filled with duty and determination.

   “You...” the creature hissed. 

   Without another word, the creature savagely attacked the new arrival using the same blows that he employed to defeat the other soldier. This time, however, the blows were completely ineffective and the second soldier stood like a stone wall absorbing everything that was thrown at him. When he had finally endured enough of the bothersome attack, the second soldier’s hand flew forward to grasp the creature’s face before violently smashing him to the ground. With incredible speed, he flipped the creature over on its face and pulled his arms behind his back before securing them there with a large chain. With the creature hissing and screaming the entire time, the second soldier then lifted the creature as easily as the proverbial sack of potatoes and disappeared around the corner.

   The complete silence that followed was broken only by the young women’s anxious breathing and the pounding of her own pulse in her ears. The second soldier and the creature were gone but the first soldier still remained slowly rising from the dust and brushing off his uniform. He then turned his attention to the bedroom door and peered kindly through the hole.

   “It is alright,” he said gently. “He is gone now.”

   At first, the young woman did not respond. 

   “No one is going to hurt you.”

   Her trembling hand reached out and opened the door. The man on the other side greeted her with a compassionate smile.

   “I thought he was going to kill you,” she muttered, not knowing what else to say.

    He smiled again, his sapphire eyes gleaming.

   “It does not exactly work like that for us,” he responded. 

   His hand then reached up to stroke his jaw where many of his adversary’s blows had fallen.

   “That, however, does not mean that it does not hurt.”

   He then pushed the bedroom door gently until it was fully open and after taking one step inside he sat down on the floor a few feet away from the young woman.

   “Who are you?” she asked.

   “A friend.”

   “Of whom?”

   “You. And many others for that matter.”

   “Why me?” 

   “I was sent because you asked for help. I am here because your Father does not approve of His children being treated like that.”

   “And,” she began, almost not being able to speak of him yet.  “What was that thing?”

   “A liar.”

   She did not know how to respond. 

   “But a very strong one,” he continued again rubbing his jaw. “I could not stop him alone. But, Michael came to help me.”

   “But what it said about me was true,” she continued, the tears welling up and overflowing into her cheeks. “Years ago, they told me it wasn’t really human yet. I was so afraid then...I did kill one of His own...”

   The man reached out gently and brushed one of the tears from her cheeks. 

   “I do not fully understand these,” he stated softly while studying the teardrop on his finger. “But I have seen bottles of these that your Father has collected. Many of them yours while asking Him for a second chance. None was unnoticed. The charges against you have been erased.” 

   The young woman wept as the events of the evening began to weigh fully on her. 

   “I don’t deserve that.”

   “Nor does anyone else. Do not try to earn, only accept.”

   With those words, the man rose to his full height and looked down upon the young woman with great compassion. 

   “It is time for me to take my leave for now. But do not be afraid. I will always be near. From the place where Michael is taking that liar, he will not be returning.”

   “But he told me that he was my child. He spoke about all the terrible things I had done.”

   “That was not your child.” 

   “How do you know?”

   “Because I spoke to your daughter right before I came to you.”

   Before she could ask any further questions, he reached down and placed his hand gently on her head and she immediately fell into the most peaceful sleep she had ever known.  

   The next morning she awoke back in her bed with sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up with a start as she suddenly recalled the events of the previous evening. However, as she looked around her room, she noticed that all was in order. There was no gaping hole in the bedroom door. She leaped out of bed and flung open the door to find that the hallway and walls were in perfect condition without the least trace of dust. In the foyer, the empty candy bowl was not on the floor but still on the front table. She lifted her head and breathed deeply, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted. 

   “Thank you,” she breathed into the morning air. “And please, tell my daughter that I look forward to meeting her.”

Evergreen

 

 That particular brisk November morning, as had been the entire Fall season to that point, was colder than usual for the southwest corner of Georgia. Emory could hear the familiar sound of the soles of his feet scrape across the coarse sandy surface of the road. His pace was quickened that morning, but not simply because of the temperature. He knew that Hannah would be at her usual spot and he didn't want to keep her waiting.  

   The school bus stop was about half a mile from Emory's house and was a familiar route once all of the harvesting was finished and the school year rolled around. Emory, an outdoor person by nature, nonetheless looked forward to the reprieve offered by the school year. His favorite class had always been biology, although history was a close second. Math was useful but still a little dry for him. His whole environment was immersed in life and to obtain a greater understanding of that diversity had always been fascinating. Now, more than ever, his and his family’s existence depended on the land. The Depression and the seemingly never-ending war overseas had stretched resources beyond their limits and what the land could produce and your hands manufacture were all that anyone had. And none of that was guaranteed. Emory had friends who would beg him for the left-over core of his apple at lunch. He gave away all that he could, but he had very little to offer to begin with. 

   In a world where there was little to possess and little to hope for, there was one bright spot in Emory’s life. His jacket. More specifically, it was his bomber jacket. It might have seemed almost laughable to someone from a larger town or from a family possessing greater means, but to Emory it meant the world. It was exactly the same kind of jacket that the American bomber crews wore on their high altitude bombing missions in Europe. The exterior was entirely leather while the inside was lined with a thick layer of fleece that would deflect even the staunchest winter winds. He had saved what he had earned from working the previous summer and purchased the jacket after combining those summer earnings with his entire life savings. He was too young to go and fight, but only barely so and wearing the jacket was a small way of respecting those who fought and died daily. After all, they were his heroes.  

   Emory knew that he was getting close as he approached the familiar bend in the road. The leaves of the large red oak to his right had turned brown and were slowly, one by one,  succumbing to the November winds. The small fishing pond to his left had been a scene of constant activity and socialization during the warmer months but was now secluded and alone. Yet, closer to him and just beyond the edge of the road was a lofty long-needled southern pine whose girth and height indicated a tree of great age and majesty. Never losing its needles in the coldest of seasons, it remained a symbol of hope that perhaps all would be well. Yet, the beauty and dignity of that tree seemed to pale in comparison with the diminutive young woman who stood beneath it. Hannah, her blonde hair playing across her face in the cool morning breeze, was standing beneath the tree engrossed in a book. As Emory approached, his movement caught her attention and she looked up with a smile that made the morning pause to take notice.

   Hannah was German. That was the simple truth of it, and usually the only knowledge necessary for most people to pass judgement. It seemed to make little difference that she and her parents had fled Germany for the distinct purpose of avoiding the Nazi regime and were already settled in their new home by the time hostilities had begun. It was enough merely to hear her speak, her English decorated with a slight Bavarian accent, and gaze upon her long golden hair and sapphire eyes to realize that she was one of the enemy; no matter how pleasant her demeanor might first appear.

   Emory, however, saw her differently, although he had never spoken openly of it. When he had first met her at school, he had immediately felt great compassion for her at being so far from her home. The flat coastal plain of southern Georgia held little resemblance to the foothills of the Alps from which she had immigrated. She already spoke English, but she nonetheless still faced a society who did not speak the language of her heart and whose culture was markedly foreign. Not to mention that within the short period of time that she had lived in her new home, her native country had declared war upon it. 

But Hannah was certainly not helpless and that fact, perhaps, made Emory respect her all the more. He had often remarked to himself that if all of the German people had the same strength of will as Hannah, it was no small wonder that they made such staunch fighters on the battlefield. She also possessed a keen mind and Emory, although a good student himself, had to admit that Hannah was likely more gifted than he. And, in spite of all of her attributes, it had not escaped Emory’s attention that one of his favorite things about Hannah was just how pleasant she was to look at. Superficial, but true nonetheless. 

   Hannah’s smile, as she stood beneath the Evergreen, warmed his heart as it always did on those cool fall mornings.

   “Guten Morgen, fraulein!” Emory greeted her proudly as his breath condensed in the cool air. 

   “Ah, du sprichst Deutsch?” Hannah replied. “Wie geht es dir heute?”

   “Alright, I give up,” Emory responded by throwing up his hands. “I need you to give me more lessons. I didn’t understand a word you just said.” 

   “Perhaps, if I had a more diligent student you would already be fluent by now,” Hannah responded jokingly.

   “That's not funny,” Emory responded with a smile as he joined her underneath the evergreen tree. At that exact moment, the unmistakable rattling of the 1931 Ford school bus reached their ears. It seemed on most days that every bolt holding the old green vehicle together would rattle itself out of place but it had, with constant diligence from the maintenance crew,  somehow managed to hold itself together. The dust kicked up from the sandy roads by the bus’s tires rose above the dormant fields and made it quite easy to track the path of the vehicle.

   “Do you think we'll make it to school today without breaking down?”

   “Not sure. But, that’s one of the things that keeps life so interesting.”

   The vehicle pulled up beside the pair and the door swung open revealing the serious face of Mrs. Davis, the bus driver. The two got onto the bus and took their usual seats about midway back on the right hand side of the bus. Hannah pressed in a little closer to Emory for warmth which was never unwelcome as she always smelled like cedar. 

   “So, how is your piano playing these days?” Emory asked. 

   “Fine, I suppose,“ Hannah replied modestly although Emory had heard her play before and was not fooled in the least.

   “I’m sure that it’s much better than just fine. I remember the last time you played at church. I'm certainly no Mozart, but I thought it was flawless.“

   “You are too kind, sir,“ Hanner replied with a smile while putting on the air of a medieval princess. “And I dare say I would be happy to play on a much more frequent basis, if only they were more Lutheran churches in town.“

   Emory chuckled before responding.

   “Now, you know good and well that there aren’t any Lutherans in this town, but you can’t throw a rock without hitting a Baptist Church.”

   Hannah nodded in acknowledgment.

   “At least Mrs. Johnson still lets me practice on her piano. She has really been very nice about the whole situation and has allowed me to play whenever I need to. I’m not sure, but it seems as if she enjoys the music as it takes her mind off of the emptiness of her house.”

   “I’m sure it does,” Emory responded. “I can only imagine having a house full of the noise of that many children and then how quiet it must be when they all move away.“ 

   Emory then looked over at his companion and she thumbed through her sheets of music.

   “In fact,“ he offered. “You can come and play the piano for me anytime when all of my children have moved away.“

   Hannah then returned his gaze and curled her lips over her teeth as to give the appearance that she had none.

   “You mean when you’re old, with no teeth like this? “

  Emory couldn’t help but chuckle, in spite of his friend’s teasing.

   “Now, you just hang on a second there. I’ll have you know that I’m planning to keep all of my teeth.  And my hair, too.”

   “Oh, I see.”

   A thought then suddenly came to Emory. 

   “You know, it really has been a while since I’ve gotten to hear you play. The school recital is coming up in a couple of weeks and that’s something that everyone in town always looks forward to. Maybe I’ll get to hear you then.“

   Hannah smiled as a respectful gesture but did not respond verbally.

   “You’re going to play then, aren’t you?” Emory  asked. “You’re one of the best piano players that I know.“

   “And just how many piano players do you know?”

   “I’m serious. You have to play. You would be great.”

   “I don’t know,” Hannah responded, still thumbing through her sheet music. Emory could tell that something was bothering her but he was not sure exactly what it was. 

   “I know it can be a little intimidating getting up in front of all those people,” Emory continued sympathetically. “But I certainly wouldn’t let that stand in your way.”

    “No, it’s not that.”

   “Is it everything going on with the war?”

   “No,” Hannah shrugged her shoulders. “Not really.” 

   Emory could still tell that something was bothering Hannah, but he also did not want to push her if it was something that she really did not want to talk about. Almost as if she had read his mind, Hannah suddenly  turned to him as if to share a secret that she could no longer bear to keep hidden. 

   “You can’t tell anyone. Promise me.” 

   “I promise.”

   “I’ve seen pictures from other years,” Hannah began. “And I’ve been to other recitals and I know how the girls are dressed.”

   Hannah paused to collect herself. 

   “Papa’s crop was not as good this year as we had hoped. Our family doesn’t have anything extra for something as impractical as a new dress. Right now, I don’t own any clothing that would be considered appropriate for a recital. My parents feel terribly about it but I believe it would be more embarrassing to them for me to go ahead and play publicly dressed as I would be than to not play at all.”

   Emory listened respectfully.

   “But you know what?” Hannah continued with a more optimistic tone. “Papa took us to town the other day and we walked by Alderman’s store downtown. In the window was this beautiful blue evening dress with a neckline just perfect for showing a string of pearls.”

   Hannah smiled wistfully. 

   “Maybe one day, after this war is over, I can have some things like that. If only every now and then. I guess what I’m really wishing for is something constant. Something dependable. Something unchanging. Like that evergreen tree that we meet under every morning for school. Immergrun as we say in German. Evergreen.“ 

   Emory's face was filled with compassion. 

   “I’m sorry, Hannah.” 

   She smiled in return.

   “I know that things are tough now for everyone. I just wanted you to know. But, please, don’t tell anyone.”

   “I promise, Hannah.”

   For the rest of the school day, Emory could think of nothing but Hannah and the blue dress hanging in Alderman's window. Emory knew without doubt that Hannah would be the most talented musician at the recital, but he greatly respected her unwillingness to embarrass her parents or herself for the sake of putting herself on display. As the day progressed and just before school ended, a solution began to form in  Emory’s mind. Wishing to honor his promise to Hannah, he kept his ideas to himself. 

   The next day was Saturday and Emory’s brother, James, had several errands to run for the family in town. Catching James by himself, Emory made his request.

   “Why in the world do you need to stop by Alderman’s?“ James asked with a perplexed expression. “Unless you’ve come into some money that the rest of us don’t know about, you don’t have any business going there.“

   “Listen, I just need to go there. It’s not for me.“

   “Then who is it for?”

   “Can’t tell you. I made a promise.“

   “Is it something that’s going to get you into trouble with mama and daddy?”

   “No. They would approve.”

   James appeared a little disappointed.

   “Then you should go tell them about it.“

   “I will. But I have to keep my promise first.”

   Reluctantly, James agreed to take him with the stipulation that Emory would owe him a favor to be cashed in at a later day. That stipulation didn't bother Emory in the least and he grabbed his bomber jacket before heading out the door behind James. 

   

Following the eight mile drive into town, James eased the farm truck into the parking area on the city square in front of Alderman’s. 

   “Now listen,” James began. “You’d better be done with whatever business you’ve got to do by the time I get back from the hardware store. Don’t think that I won’t leave you here if you start interfering with my schedule.” 

   Emory pretended not to hear as he slammed the truck door and made straight for the front entrance of the clothing store. Before going in, he paused for a moment and stared into the right front window. There, just as Hannah had described, was the blue evening dress. She had certainly been right about one thing; even Emory could easily imagine the dress accented by a strand of pearls. Gathering his courage and taking a deep breath, he then entered the store.

   The woman who assisted Emory was very kind and listened patiently as he explained his proposal. 

   “Well,” she began once she fully understood what he was asking. “It’s certainly a reasonable thing to suggest, especially with times the way that they are now. It’s just that I was wondering if this is really something that you wanted to do. Especially at this time of year.“ 

   “Yes ma’am,”  Emory replied immediately. “I’ve given it a lot of thought.“

   “I’m quite sure you have. It’s just the mother in me that makes me ask questions like that. Very well then, let’s get this all set up for you.”

   “And if you don’t mind, would you mind wrapping it? Nothing fancy.” 

   “I think that we can arrange that.”

  

 “What in the world is that?“ James asked as Emory climbed into the passenger seat carrying a package.

   “I’ve already told you. I’m not going to tell you right now. I made a promise and I’m keeping it.“

   “So, it doesn’t bother you at all to keep me in the dark about all this and yet use me to give you a lift to town?”

   “Not in the least,“ Emory replied. “You were coming this way anyway. I’m also not going to feel bad about asking you to stop by Hannah's house on the way home, either. But don’t park out front. I want you to drop me off where no one from the house can see me.” 

   “You certainly are causing me a lot of problems today.“

   “Yes,” came the sultry reply as Emory stretched his arms across his package. “But I’m worth it.”

   The following Monday, the brisk November air was even colder than it had been the previous week. Emory once again settled into a hurried pace so as to not keep Hannah waiting. He always looked forward to seeing her, but on that day his excitement was above its usual level. As he navigated the familiar turn in the sandy road, he once again saw Hannah reading her book beneath the spreading arms of the evergreen pine. Noticing his approach after looking up from her novel, her face burst into the largest smile that Emory had ever seen. 

   “Herr Tucker! “ Hannah began using one of her playful names for Emory. “You will never guess what happened this weekend!“

   “Well, don’t leave me in suspense! Spill the beans!”

   “Do you remember me telling you last week about the blue dress at Alderman’s? The one I dreamed about having for the recital?“

   “Of, course. The one that would go really well with a strand of pearls.” 

   “So, you were listening!”

   “Of course I was.”

   “Well, Sunday morning papa had gone out back to feed the livestock before church when he found a package on the back porch. We had no idea where it came from. We certainly had not ordered anything and the postman never leaves anything on the back porch. It had no address. We didn’t want to keep something that wasn’t ours, so we decided to open it to see if we could find out who it belonged to. Emory, you’ll never guess what was inside.” 

    “Tell me.” 

   Hannah paused for a moment as if she still could not believe her own story. 

   “It was the gown.”

"What gown?"

"You know which gown!"

   “The blue one from Alderman’s?”

   “Yes! That exact one.”

   Hannah paused again. 

   “I don’t want to keep something that is not mine, but I would not even know where to begin to find its owner.”

   “Sounds like an answer to prayer to me.”

   “I thought you told me that God didn’t hear Lutheran prayers. Only Baptist ones.“

   Emory chuckled. 

   “I may have been stretching things a little bit there.“ 

   “Then what should I do?”

   “I think you were meant to have that dress. I think you should wear it and attend the recital and take your place among the other ladies. It’s where you belong. You’re out of most of their leagues anyway.” 

   Those last words rolled out before Emory could restrain them, but once they were free upon the November air, he did not regret saying them.

   “At least that’s my opinion. For what it’s worth.” 

   “Danke,” She replied softly, the harshness of her German accent having almost completely faded away.

   “Bitte,” came the honest reply. 

   Hannah smiled again and, this time, allowed her blue eyes to linger a little longer than usual, interrupted only by the sound of the arriving school bus. As the pair boarded the bus and slid into their usual seats, it seemed to Emory that Hannah moved in a little closer than usual, making the welcome scent of soap and cedar even more prominent.

Hannah’s gaze then moved back to Emory as she observed his hands and how strong but kind they were. They had seen more hardship than a person of his age should have endured. She was noticing the worn cuffs of his shirt, no doubt a hand-me-down from his brother, when a thought suddenly occurred to her.

   “Emory, where is your jacket?”

   Emory looked down at his shirt, attempting to feign surprise. 

   “I must have forgotten it. I was in a hurry.”

   “Today was one of the coldest days of the year so far. And besides, you never go anywhere without that jacket.“

   Hannah was far too keen for a detail of that nature to go unnoticed and Emory suddenly felt very foolish to have thought that he could have ever kept it from her.

   “It was you, wasn’t it?” Hannah started as the details began to fall into place. “You traded your jacket for my dress . An expensive jacket that you bought with your own money.”

   Emory did not respond at first, a part of him regretting that his sacrifice had been so obvious. He had somehow hoped it would go unnoticed. To watch her enjoy her dress and recital from a distance without any need for compensation. But that was a very childish idea. 

   “When I told you about the dress last week, I never meant for it to sound like I was…”

   “Of course you didn’t,“ Emory interrupted gently. “Of course you didn't. It was never taken that way.” 

   Emory’s gaze fell to the floor boards as a silence settled between the pair. He had already made a fool of himself. He might as well complete the task.

   “I would rather be cold than to ever see you embarrassed or to have to go without.” 

   He was quite sure that he had ruined everything and that his priceless friendship with the beautiful young woman next to him was over, when he suddenly felt the soft touch of Hannah’s hand as it grasped his. He suddenly realized that he had never touched her before and this new sensation was in no way unwelcome. Emory’s gaze returned to Hannah and he could tell in the softness of her gaze that her German fortitude was crumbling. 

   “You know what they’ll say about you when word gets out, don’t you?”

   Emory nodded. 

   “It doesn’t really matter.”

   She smiled once again. 

   “Immergrun,” she whispered.  “Evergreen.” 

   “Evergreen,” he responded. 

   

   

As It Is In Heaven: Part 2

   "Where did you say the bottles of formula were?" the doctor asked as he searched in vain through the medicine room behind the nurse's station on the pediatric floor.
   "Now I know you Internal Medicine docs don't treat kids," Jessica, one of the pediatric nurses, joked as she moved over to help. "But even you should be able to find these."
   She reached into an unlabeled box behind a stash of infant diapers and immediately produced a couple of pre-filled formula bottles.
   "You'll need these, too," she added as she reached into a separate area to find the disposable latex nipples.
   "You do know how a bottle works, don't you?" she smiled as she handed him all of the necessary equipment.
   "I know just who to ask if I run into any problems," he responded as he returned her smile.

   The empty pediatric room smelled like a mixture of clean linen and baby powder as the doctor eased into a rocking chair sitting in the corner. Lydia, still wrapped in her police blanket, was close to the end of her stamina and totally off schedule, but she continued to show her previous courage in spite of all that she had been through. She suddenly seemed to catch her second wind when she saw the formula bottle and her glassy eyes opened wide in anticipation.
   "Hang in there," the doctor encouraged. "I know I'm slow, but we're almost there."
   He placed the bottle close to her mouth and she reached out instinctively to clasp the bottle on both sides with her little hands.  She guzzled the first bottle in record time and was halfway through the second when her eyes again grew heavy and formula began to drizzle out of the corner of her mouth.  He then gently placed the bottle on the bedside table and cradled Lydia in his arms as he continued to gently sway back and forth in the rocking chair. Her fingers soon found their way to her mouth and she sucked on them noisily as she grasped his little finger with the other hand and drifted off to sleep.  He leaned his head back against the rocker as the toll of the day began to weight heavily upon him as well and it was not long before the tranquil scene lulled him to sleep.

   He was awakened some time later by a soft stream of yellow light cascading through the opening door. Momentarily, Jessica's head appeared through the opening.
   "Sorry to wake you," she apologized. "I was just checking on you."
   "No problem," he responded, sleep still heavy in his eyes. "It's been a long day for both of us."
   Jessica slipped into the room and quietly pulled up a chair and sat with her back to the door. Jessica was a gifted nurse and he had always respected her, even though he did not get the opportunity to visit the pediatric floor very often. Especially in that uncertain situation, he found her presence very comforting and he began to respect even more the comfort that she undoubtedly brought to her patients and families. The light scent of her perfume was not an unwelcome addition either. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her upper knee and he noticed, as he had on other occasions, that she wore no wedding band.
   "Just never found the right one," he had heard her explain to the other nurses on a previous occasion.
   She remained silent for a moment as she watched the young child sleeping. The doctor in return studied her facial features as her brow furrowed in concern over this little life that she hardly knew.
   "I heard her mother didn't make it."
   The Doctor shook his head.
   "What will you do, now?" she whispered.
   "I'm not sure," he responded. "I guess the best answer would be that I'll do whatever is in her best interest. There's just so much that I don't know. I'll get some information from the authorities tomorrow and see if a case worker was involved or something like that. That way I can make a better decision."
   The nurse nodded with understanding.
   "Do you work tomorrow? Or, I guess it would be better to ask if you work today now that I look at the time."
   "Thankfully, no. I have the next couple of days off, which I'll need to figure all of this out."
   "It's almost morning now," Jessica reminded him. "We don't need this room now, so just stay here with Lydia. Before you leave tomorrow, remind me and I'll give you an older portable crib that we don't need  anymore. You can keep it for as long as you need it."
   "Thank you."
   "Anytime. I'll let you both get some rest."
   As quietly as before, Jessica silently left the room, the soft stream of yellow light disappearing as the door closed behind her.

   The bright morning sun caused Lydia to squint as the pair crossed the hospital parking lot the following morning. Upon reaching his truck, he placed the portable crib in the bed before placing Lydia back in her car seat. She was understandably fussy after such a traumatic night but at least her  stomach was full.
   "Alright, little lady," the doctor stated as he finished buckling her in. "I wish I could tell you that your day today will take you back to some sort of routine, but that probably won't be true.  But, you will get to meet some good friends of mine while I sort some things out."
   Climbing back into the truck and starting the engine, he left the hospital behind and drove across town passing multiple schools and playgrounds as he did so. He glanced at them through his truck windows before glancing into his rearview mirror as if Lydia could see him.
   "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten," he whispered.

   Pulling into the familiar drive in the wooded suburb, he could already see well-known faces greeting him through the front windows. He pulled to a stop and hardly had time to step out of his truck before little feet pattered up to him. Looking up at him were two bright faces full of excitement almost as if it were Christmas morning.
   "Can we see the baby?" they cried in unison.
   "Alright you two," a stern but loving voice answered before the doctor had a chance to respond. "You kids give them some space. That baby is not some toy and she hasn't had the easiest of times recently, so let's back off."
   "Thanks for looking out for her, Jim, while I meet with the case worker."
   "No problem. I'm glad you called. It's the least we could do with everything she's been through. Listen, just don't leave her here too long, though, You know how Leigh is. You leave the baby here too long and she is gonna to want another one."
   No sooner had the words left his mouth than Leigh rounded the far end of the truck and looked directly at her husband.
   "I heard that," she said with a fabricated frown.
   "Puppies can only only relieve baby fever for so long," Jim responded.
    Leigh ignored the comment and looked inside the truck .
   "Oh my word," Leigh said as she stretched out her arms to scoop Lydia from her seat. "She's beautiful."
   Jim let out a long sigh.
  "Alas, 'tis already too late."
   The doctor chuckled.
  "Thank you all again. The bag in the back seat has all of her supplies that the hospital gave me and there's a portable crib in the bed of the truck. I'll be back as soon as the meeting is done."
   "I'll get the bag!" the oldest child exclaimed as they all leapt forward to quarrel over who was to help first.
 
   Driving away and seeing Lydia in his rearview mirror produced an emotion that the doctor was not expecting. Hardly twelve hours before then and he would not have even known who she was. Yet, even after such a short time, he missed her. She was too young to speak, and yet she needed no words to soothe the loneliness of the last year. He had not seen it before, but he, in fact, was not saving her. She was saving him.

   The case worker's office was near the police station downtown and it was about a twenty minute drive from Jim and Leigh's house. Arriving a few minutes early, the case officer nonetheless introduced herself and invited him into her office as she was not involved with anything pressing at that particular moment. He sat down in the straight back chair and studied the pictures of the case manager's family  arranged neatly upon her desk.
   "So, I've spoken with the officer that you met last night," she began after finishing the usual pleasantries. "And he has filled me in on what happened."
   She paused for a moment as she studied the man in front of her.
   "I'm just curious," she began. "Has anyone asked how you're doing?"
   He had not given the question much thought.
  "No," he responded. "But I'm alright."
  "What you saw last night was not easy. It has to weigh on you."
  "What I see everyday weighs on me," he responded truthfully but respectfully. "But it's what I signed up for. I cannot hide. Mankind has become my business, and I see it in all its ugliness."
  "You must have someone you can talk to?"
   He shook his head slowly.
  "I don't tell my secrets. No one would understand. And who would be made better by the telling? I can't bring myself up by telling others what would inevitably only sadden and disappoint them. About myself and others."
   The case officer remained silent.
   "People ask me sometimes why I tend to listen to melancholy music," he continued. "It's not because I'm depressed. It's because somehow it bridges the chasm between the hymns on Sundays and the devils that walk through my dreams at night. If only for a little while."
   The case manager let out a long sigh.
  "Are you a poet?"
  "No."
  "You should give it a try. You express your thoughts beautifully. I see a poem in there somewhere."
  "I'm sorry. You asked me a simple question and I turned it into a counselling session."
  "Don't apologize. You've already told me a lot. Regardless of what role you end up playing with Lydia, she is going to need someone who understands the darkness. Someone who has walked through it."
   The doctor nodded. The case worker then opened the file on the desk in front of her.
  "Did Lydia's mother tell you anything last night?"
  "Not much. She had very little time. She only told me that she had no one to care for Lydia and to not let her be lost to the system. She told me how hard she had tried."
  "All true," came the compassionate response. "Lydia's mother had come through the blackest of places. All of her family was either dead or in jail. But somewhere along the way, she decided that she did not want to follow that same path. I believe it was right after she became pregnant with Lydia. So, she got a job. Began to save and was able to buy the car that was in the accident. Joined a little country church and, I suppose, found a family that she'd never had."
  "What about Lydia's father?"
  "Her mother didn't know who the father was. She had no idea where to even start looking. Like I said, she had just come through a dark time."
   The doctor pondered her words carefully.
  "So, you see, Lydia really has no one. It's possible that her father could step out of the shadows one day to try to claim her but that seems very unlikely, especially given the nature of the circle of friends that her mother associated with prior to her change."
  "So, as of now, Lydia would go into foster care?"
  "Unless someone steps forward, yes."
  "Then I step forward. I promised her mother."
   The case worker paused for a moment.
  "You need to give this some thought. With your occupation and the hours you work, will you be able to manage all of this?"
  "I won't be alone. And neither will she."
   The case worker nodded in understanding as she closed the file on her desk. The physician then rose to leave.
  "Tell me one thing," she asked before he had a chance to leave the room. "In spite of all you've been through, I sense that you are a man of faith. So, why would a loving God take the life of a girl who was just getting her life together? She was trying to do the right thing. Trying to give a new life to Lydia. So, while all of her unsavory friends continued unmolested in their pagan ways, she died alone on a deserted road."
  "She wasn't alone," he responded. "I was there."
   He paused, letting the silence settle for a moment.
  "I've stopped blaming God for the storms of life and started always looking for the hope that He always throws our way. I was on that road at that time for a reason. And Lydia was that reason."
 
   Lydia's feet were kicking excitedly in her car seat as he pulled his truck into the playground. Taking her out of the back seat, he placed her car seat on a nearby picnic table so that she could watch the other children swinging joyfully and sliding down the bright yellow plastic slides. She was mesmerized by the scene in front of her.
  "I see why your mother liked to bring you here. You love watching everything going on.You just wait until you're a little older and can actually play with the others."
   With Lydia's attention occupied, he began to scribble in a notepad that he had brought with him.
  "We have a sad goodbye to say tomorrow, Lydia," he spoke out loud as he continued to write. "But maybe we shouldn't see it as goodbye. This is not the end. I've been here before."
   Having finished his writing, he closed the notebook and watched the children with Lydia.

   Later in the morning the next day, the doctor dressed Lydia in an outfit he had bought the previous day and drove with her to a small country church about eight miles outside of town. He had called to find details regarding Lydia's mother's service and he felt that it would be inappropriate not to attend. The small brick building stood in a grove of pines which swayed gently in the morning breeze. A few cars were parked outside and he pulled in next to them. Placing Lydia on his hip and adjusting the small pink bow in her hair, he walked through the doors of the church and was warmly greeted by the only family Lydia had ever known. Even in such a somber occasion, there was joy in the faces of those who poured out their love on an orphaned infant and a widower.
   While Lydia was being reaquainted with her church family, the doctor walked to the front of the sanctuary where the simple casket lay, Lydia's mother clothed in a beautiful dress and with a face finally at peace.
   "I gave you my word," he whispered. "I won't leave her."
   He then drew a small sheet of paper from his pocket, the final product of what he had written with Lydia at the playground. He then moved to one of the attendants nearby and handed him the slip of paper.
  "What is this?" the attendant asked.
  "Heeding some advice someone told me recently. If you and the church feel it's appropriate, could you put this with her?"
  "I'll be glad to ask them."
   With a smile of thanks, the doctor then returned to rejoin Lydia and the rest of the church. Unable to contain his curiosity, the attendant opened the paper to read the following lines:

                           As the stirring of the morning breeze
                             And the scent of roses long past
                           So brief was your time with her
                             And never intended to last

                           But leaving the host of heaven
                            And as constant as the tide
                           You leaned on Me in the darkness
                            And I never left your side

                           Words left unspoken
                             And tears left undried
                           Both did I hear with an unseen ear
                             And wiped gently from your eyes
                          
                           So, come to Me now
                            And rest from the agony of life
                           From the constant uncertainty
                            And never ending strife

                           Close your eyes, come and rest
                             To a place no poet can pen
                           For in only the twinkling of an eye
                             You will see her once again
                         


   Lydia giggled as she watched a young girl swing higher and higher at the playground the following day. The doctor had brought his notebook with him once again and was scribbling down several lines as they surfaced in his thoughts. As his pen passed over the paper, he became aware of a shadow above him, temporarily darkening the page. Looking up, he saw Jessica's familiar face.
   "Didn't expect to see you here," he said with a smile. "Heading home?"
   "Yep," she responded. "I just finished up and was driving home when I noticed your truck. Couldn't resist seeing her again so I thought I'd drop in and see how things are going with little sweet pea here."
   She tickled the bottoms of Lydia's feet, much to the child's delight.
   "We're doing good."
  "Is that your professional answer or the truth?"
   He chuckled quietly.
  "No, we're really doing well. Don't get me wrong, we have a ton to work through and I'm sure we'll have our days. But we're going to  make it."
   She smiled and nodded in approval. Her gaze suddenly shifted to the notebook in front of him.
  "Are you writing poetry?"
   He quickly closed the book.
  "No."
  "Uh huh. Well, if you were to decide to start, some would consider that a romantic quality."
  "That depends on how good you are at it," he responded.
   Jessica laughed.
  "Maybe so."
   She then stood to leave and straightened Lydia's blanket as she said goodbye.
  "Well, I suppose I'll leave you two to enjoy your morning and for you to continue not writing poetry. We'll see you around."
   As she turned to go, he suddenly felt something that he had not felt in quite some time.
  "Jessica?"
   She turned to face him.
  "I'm off this Thursday and was looking forward to trying the new coffee shop downtown. If you can, I was wondering if you'd like to come along?"
   Jessica paused only momentarily.
  "Sounds good. I can do that."
  "Oh," he suddenly responded and touched his forehead as if forgetting something of utmost importance. "I need to tell you that I will most likely be accompanied that morning by a much younger woman. I hope that won't offend you."
   Jessica smiled as her glance shifted to Lydia, still enjoying the sounds of the playground.
  "I think I can handle that. See you then."
  As she walked away, the doctor opened his notebook and began to write once more, the sounds of the morning inspiring his thoughts.
  "So you will."