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Tuesday 8 July 2014

Novella Part Eleven Sally Forth

Sal was much worse than Frieda had anticipated. The TLM priest was just leaving when Frieda and Matt got there. The Baby was ill, not seriously, but Abbey could not come. Little Abbey was usually healthy, but this week she had a bad cold, turning into croup.  The damp summer did not help.

Sally was sitting up in bed, looking so ethereal that she seemed to be made out of marble. Matt kissed her and Frieda stood there for a moment. "I am so glad to see you, I cannot tell you how much." Sally smiled. Then, Frieda in her impatient way, took the ring off her finger and put it on one of Sal's. Sally's hands were so thin, the ring looked enormous on her, and simply no longer fit. But, she smiled.

"Frieda, you are God's Drama Queen." Frieda laughed, "I shall get a tee-shirt with that on it."

Matt said he had to leave for a meeting but would come back for Frieda in two hours. The two women had a lot to talk about, but Sally was so tired.

"Sally, do not get upset with me, but I phoned  Kronstadt, I mean, Hans." Frieda waited. "Oh Frieda, you should not have bothered him. Really."  Sally took a deep breath. "I never told you something and I did not write it in the journal."

Frieda sat down next to the bed. She waited.

"You probably read the journal, but I left out one of the most important things.I was too afraid, too proud to write it down at the time". Frieda waited, as Sally was so tired.

"Hans said one more thing to me at our last meeting on the day after he began to propose."

Frieda squirmed. Why did Sal not write this thing in her journal?

"He told me, after a long time, and almost at the end of our last conversation, that I was to do something."

Frieda waited. She wondered how many days Sally actually had to live. She wished her to live.

"He told me to get ready to die young, as I was his angel, his way to heaven, even if we were separated."

Frieda began to cry. She had not really faced Sally's death and here was Sally telling her the obvious truth.

The two sat in silence. Frieda took Sally's little hand and just held it for a long time. Matt was due back soon. 

Frieda's cell phone went off. "Blast, I forgot to turn it off." She looked at the number. "Sal, are you OK for a moment, I want to get this call."

"Of course, Frieda. Go on. And, look, here is Matt." Standing at the door was her brother, smiling. Frieda walked into the hallway and down to the foyer, as Matt entered the room.

Frieda came back in about five mintues with two people. They were both Norbertines-one short and bald, about sixty, and the other tall, dark, handsome.

Matt could hardly be happier. Here was his old mentor, Kronstadt, and a companion, Timothy. Hans went over to Sally.

"Hello. Frieda found out I was here for a conference in psychology and phoned me to come. Do you mind?"

Sally was weeping so silently. "I knew I would see you one more time. I knew it."

Hans bent over Sally's bed and whispered, "I told my superior I was going to visit a saint. He said 'Fine' And, I see you have the ring".

Sally just smiled. Matt, Frieda and Timothy stood at the end of the bed. They all began to say the rosary out loud, but quietly. 

Then, as if called by a Bridegroom who was a very Jealous Lover, Sally died.

Hans had never seen her so beautiful. Matt phone Abbey, then Massie and Duke. Massie went ballistic. "Why did you not tell me how ill she was? Of course, we could not come down. Duke hates flying."

Matt tried to explain that he has told Massie how ill Sal had been. She did not listen, really. "Well, John told me Sally was lying about having cancer and that it all psychosomatic. He told us all that." Matt felt sick to his stomach.

A strange phrase came into his head: 

You shall indeed hear but never understand,
    and you shall indeed see but never perceive.
15 For this people’s heart has grown dull,
    and their ears are heavy of hearing,
    and their eyes they have closed,
lest they should perceive with their eyes,
    and hear with their ears,
and understand with their heart,
    and turn for me to heal them. 

"Goodbye, Mom. Maybe I will talk to you again."

The End.

(I want to thank my dear friend J....for encouraging me to write this. Thanks, JY.)