Making Angels Laugh Page 6

  She finished with the patient and returned to her cottage just before five a.m. to shower and prepare for her flight. A wave of panic engulfed her. She didn’t want to go anywhere near Township High.

  The cell phone rang almost as soon as she stepped into her cottage. She looked at the number. It was her son, Alexei.

  “Good morning, Mama!” he said in his good natured way.

  “Lyosha,” she greeted him with the diminutive of his name, “you have a reason to call this early?”

  “Are you angry at us for this birthday surprise?”

  “Should I be?”

  “We thought this would be a good gift for the woman who has everything.”

  Yeah, right. I’m the woman who has everything, she thought, but didn’t say. The woman who has everything… Right. I have everything. I live alone in a tiny cottage steps away from where I work. Yeah, the balance sheet looks really good. But what do I really have other than a job, a few old friends, and my faith? My children all have their own lives, scattered around the country. My mother is old and still working and she’s almost six hours drive from me.

  Her son rushed into words. “Mama, are you okay?”

  “Of course I am. I am just stunned that you were able to do this without my knowing about it.”

  “What’s the fun in a surprise gift that is known about by the receiver?” he asked with a laugh that reminded her all too much of his father.

  “How in the world did you all get the time away from your lives for this, Lyosha?”

  “When things are important, Mama, you make time. You taught us that. You and Papa, you always made time for us. We were your priority; well, after God and each other.”

  “And before work.”

  “Are you going to go to your reunion?” Alexei asked.

  “Since you all have drawn up the plans for this trip, what else would I do?”

  Chapter Five

  Once she left the airport in St. Louis, after uneventful connecting flights, the drive into Illinois went relatively quickly. She noted as she rolled past the town’s “welcome” sign at the corporation limits that the population was less than a quarter of what it had been when she had left here forty years ago.

  She drove past the schools, or rather where the schools had once been. She stopped her car and walked over through the former school grounds. Nothing was here now but dirt and grass, the odd broken brick and shard of glass. Patchy spots of grass outlined where the buildings had once been. The basketball court was still there, although the goals had been removed and the pavement was cracked and overgrown. Obviously, the brick buildings hadn’t been gone for very long, otherwise grass would have completely covered the ground. Still, she couldn’t mourn the loss of the high school, a building that had held few good memories and much pain. It was just odd for it to be completely gone. She walked back to her rental car.

  She double checked the address for the bed and breakfast. She knew the address. Whether the house would be the same as she remembered or not was very much an open question. Yet in a matter of blocks, she saw that the house was still as beautifully kept as it always had been. This used to be the home of Principal and Mrs. Fisher. It was one of the few places in town that held only good memories for her.

  After parking the rental car on the street in front of the Victorian home, she removed her weekender bag and hanging dress bag from the trunk and went up the stone steps to the well landscaped cobblestone walk leading to the house.

  The porch was enclosed in trellises supporting masses of greenery. For a few short weeks each summer, those trellises would be a riot of scented blooms. But now, the trellises were simply covered in masses of green stems and leaves.

  An elderly woman moved into sight, sweeping clean the off-white painted decking. Rita looked at the old woman and recognized the former high school guidance counsellor.

  “Mrs. Fisher?” Rita called as she walked towards the house.

  The elderly woman turned to look at her. A genuinely welcoming smile and a cheery hello put Rita at ease. “Come on in, and we’ll get you checked in. It’s good to see you, Rita, my dear.”

  Rita climbed the steps up to the porch. “And you, m’am. You’ve opened your home up as a bed and breakfast, I see.”

  Mrs. Fisher chuckled. “It helps stretch the teacher’s pensions. And I like having people around from time to time. Henry was so excited that you were coming for the reunion. He’ll be so happy to see you. Let me help you with those bags.”

  “No, m’am, I’ve got them. Thanks.”

  “Well, come on in.”

  As she walked through the front door, it was like going back in time. The front hall and front parlor looked as they had when she had come here for high school band parties. From the sound, Dr. Fisher was clearly with a piano student in the conservatory, down the hall, toward the back of the house.

  “Dr. Fisher still teaches piano, m’am?”

  “Yes. He still loves teaching music, and it helps stretch the pensions,” Mrs. Fisher said with a smile. “And Rita, my dear, you must now call us Henry and Sally. We’re all adults here. Come, sign the register and let me show you to your suite.”

  “Who else is staying here, m’am… Sally?”

  “You’re our only guest this weekend. We only have the two guest suites since our granddaughters came to live with us after their parents died last year. We don’t really get many visitors, so we’re free to enjoy those guests that we have.”

  “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard about Hank passing away.”

  “No reason you should have heard,” Sally dismissed as she handed Rita a pen to sign the register. “Jenny and Maggie, Hank’s twins, are great helps to me around the house. They’re both juniors in High School this year. But the local school no longer exists. Four districts consolidated five years ago. The girls are bussed to the new Union High, now. The Township High building was torn down last year after the tornado made a good start at demolishing the campus.”

  “I saw the buildings were gone.”

  “Rather had to miss,” Sally Fisher replied, her voice dry. “It’s an eyesore.”

  Rita signed the guest register. “It’s definitely empty.”

  When she looked up, Sally was smiling. “It is so good to have you here. Henry and I always knew that you would make a wonderful contribution to the world. Here you are, world famous cardiologist.”

  With a laugh, she dismissed, “Hardly famous.”

  “I am on the board for the public library. I made sure we bought your books for the collection. And we have on display the article about your clinic that the New York Times did on you in our ‘native sons and daughters’ corner, as well as copies of the articles that you wrote in medical journals which are in several binders there.”

  She felt her forehead wrinkle in puzzlement. “Those are medical school textbooks. Why did you buy them?”

  “Why wouldn’t we? You’re a local girl made good…Do you really teach martial arts to your patients, Margarita Aleksandrova?” Sally asked.

  “It’s one of many types of exercise classes we offer in the clinic,” Rita replied.

  “If someone took me as hostage, holding a knife to my throat, what would be the best way for me to get out of that?” Sally asked.

  Rita looked at her former guidance counsellor, not quite sure why she was asking that question. “That would really depend on a lot of things, Mrs…Sally. Maybe you could relax, as in go completely limp, and just crumple out of the hold. Maybe you could get control of the thumb on the assailant’s hand and twist the knife away, then sharply elbow the ribs of the assailant, stomp on his instep, and run… There are all kinds of options. It all depends on the situation, the relative size of the assailant, how the knife is being held, where you are, how much help is around you, how many adversaries are around you, how calm you’re able to be, and many other factors. Why are you asking?”

  “A story I’m writing. I thought I’d ask an expert.”

  �
��I didn’t know you wrote.”

  Sally blushed. “Just stories for women’s magazines. I usually have two or three stories come out every month, in different magazines. There’s no byline, no credit, and the magazines buy the stories outright with all rights. But it’s usually a few hundred dollars a month to help make ends meet. Then I have my blog, that I’ve monetized. I enjoy writing. Apparently there are people who enjoy reading what I write.”

  Rita heard Dr. Fisher say, “Okay, Bobby. That’s time for today. See you next week.”

  “Okay, Dr. Fisher. I think I’m improving.”

  “You have come a long way, Bobby. Keep practicing.”

  A minute later a red headed boy, about eleven years old, came barreling down the hall. “Bye, Mrs. Fisher! Bye, lady!” the boy called as he headed out the door.

  “Wonder where he’s off to in such a hurry?” Rita asked.

  Dr. Fisher replied, “Where else? Once it would have been Little League. Now it’s off to play video games on line with his friends…”

  Rita looked at her old band director. He had aged, but he still had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “It’s good to see you, Margarita Aleksandrova, my dear,” he said.

  She blinked back tears, not knowing why she felt like crying. “It’s good to see you, too, Sir. But please, those who are dear to me call me Rita. I wish you would.”

  Sally corrected, “His name is Henry.”

  Rita chuckled in embarrassment. “Calling you two by your Christian names is going to be an adjustment.”

  He nodded. “Of course it is. You were raised to respect your elders. You’re only with us until tomorrow?”

  “I’m just here for the reunion dinner dance.”

  “Sally and I were invited. We’re going, too.”

  “That’s good. At least I’ll have someone to talk to.” Then embarrassed at having said that, Rita hurried into speech, “Well, if you’ll show me to my room, I have to pick up flowers and go out to the cemetery to pay a long overdue visit to my father.”

  “Of course you do,” Sally said, her voice soft.

  “I’ll take her up, Sweetheart,” Henry Fisher said.

  The guest suite was at the end of the hall on the second floor.

  Rita placed her dress bag in the closet and put her weekender bag on the blanket chest at the foot of the Queen sized brass bed. She turned to face Henry.

  “The rooms are lovely. Thank you,” she said.

  “This is your key to the front door and this is the key to the suite,” Henry Fisher said, placing the keys down on the crocheted ivory cotton doily that topped the oak dresser.

  “Thanks.”

  “Rita, I know coming back here has to be hard for you.”

  She felt the tears well up again. “Understatement.”

  “Yes, I imagine that it is,” he said, his voice full of regret. “I am sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “We failed you, miserably. I look back and see, in retrospect, we could have, should have, done more to keep you safe.”

  “No. Hindsight is dangerous. You did everything you could, given the circumstances. And I never blamed either of you for anything. In fact, some of the best times I had in high school were in this house at band parties as well as playing under your direction.”

  He smiled slightly. “I’m glad for that, at least.”

  She sighed. This was a question she didn’t want to ask, but she needed to know. “Do you know if Peter, Tim, and Greg will be at the reunion?”

  “When I heard you were coming, I checked. Pete and Greg both sent in paid reservations. Tim made a career in the Marine Corps. I heard that he died a few years ago.”

  “May his memory be eternal,” Rita said, automatically. She sighed. She would rather not have to deal with any of the terrible trio. But they’d find a much different woman than the child they used to bully. “Maybe the others have grown out of their tendency to be bullies.”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t seen any indication of that, honestly. Pete had a career in the NFL, they called him ‘PAQman’ while he played.”

  “I saw him play more than once. My husband loved football and we always had season tickets, until his death.”

  Henry continued, “Now Pete is a sportscaster for one of the cable networks.”

  “I don’t watch much television, but I had heard that.”

  “Greg started his own sporting goods’ store and now has fifteen stores. Sports were the only thing he was ever really good at.”

  She shook her head, “I can’t imagine him managing people. Boggles my mind.”

  “Mine too. But he’s been successful. Pete’s been married four times. I only know that because he’s been such a high profile, public, personality.”

  “I’m surprised that he found four women who thought they could put up with him.” Then she sighed. “That was catty, forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive. That boy was trouble all around. I’m just surprised he didn’t end up in jail.”

  “He would have ended up in some juvenile program except for his father, uncle, and grandfather. They covered up for him, repeatedly. Apparently, though, he learned to walk the straight and narrow, because he didn’t end up in jail later in his life. I recall a few scandals along the way, allegations of spousal abuse that arose in the divorce proceedings from his first wife, a few fights, et cetera.”

  “You’ve followed him about as well as I have, then.”

  She changed the subject. “I saw that the old high school is gone. I can’t say it’s a shame.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you can,” he allowed, his voice gentle.

  “I need to run my errands. Mama wants a photo of Papa’s grave with the flowers on it.”

  “Irina Danielova is still alive?”

  “And still practicing emergency medicine full time, even now at nearly ninety.”

  “She always was a remarkable woman. You favor her as I first saw her. But you always did look like your mother.”

  “Now, you flatter me.”

  “Not at all. You always were a pretty girl. Now, you are a stunning woman.”

  Rita laughed. “If you say so.”

  He looked at her for a long time. “I’ve rarely heard you laugh.”

  “I didn’t have much to laugh about when I lived here.”

  “No. You didn’t…I will get out of here and let you do your errands. We start serving breakfast in the morning at six.”

  “I need to be back at Lambert by eight to check in for my flight, so that will work.”

  “Going back home?”

  “No, my mother and my sons booked us all for a cruise through the Panama Canal. It is my birthday present from them.”

  Henry Fisher whistled. “That’s some birthday present. Your sons?”

  “I have three grown sons. Kiril is the oldest. He’s just finished his fellowship as a trauma surgeon, after the example of his father. He’s married to Maria, Masha, who is an anesthesiologist. They’ve been married for just about a year. They’ll be working at the same teaching hospital. Then there are my twins, Alexei and Boris. Alexei’s an attorney who is also an engineer, working for the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office in Washington. He’s married to Anna, Anya, who is in the State Department. Boris is an Orthodox priest and married to Sofia, Sonya. They have five children, a set of three-year old triplets, two boys and a girl, and a set of eighteen month old twins, both girls. And they expecting another set of twins any day now. The ultrasound says these are boys.”

  “Then Boris and his family won’t go on the cruise.”

  “No, they won’t. I’ll be spending some time with them after the cruise, helping with the children so she can recover. Her mother will be with her until then.”

  He smiled. “You didn’t mention your husband?”

  She sighed. “No. I didn’t…He died… was murdered… twelve years ago.”

  Henry Fisher looked at her for a long moment, pain and sorrow in
his eyes. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrid.”

  “It was a tough time to get through. The legal system is intensely hard on the victims and their families.”

  “Was the murderer convicted?”

  “Serving several successive life sentences, without possibility of parole, as he killed several people including a policeman.”

  “At least he’ll never harm anyone else,” Henry Fisher said.

  “You’d think. But no. The murderer is on trial again. He killed a fellow inmate and is being tried again this week. When you take all hope away from a person, they have nothing to lose,” Rita said on a sigh. “People with nothing to lose are profoundly dangerous, particularly when they are sociopathic to begin with.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Don’t be sorry. We had a good life together. Life brings the good and the bad. Somehow, we get through sorrows and carry on.”

  Henry Fisher blinked and forced a bittersweet smile. “That, we do, by the grace of God.”

  “And sometimes only by grace.”

  “I’ll let you get your errands run.”

  “Thanks. I thought I’d drive out to Russian Hill and take a look around after I was done at the cemetery.”

  “There’s not much out there, these days,” he warned. “Be careful when you’re out there.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “It’s very desolate.”

  “No one lives out there anymore?”

  “Not for years. The EPA declared it a hazardous area.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story. But no one has the money to do the clean-up. So, it just sits there overgrown. It’s all very sad.”

  She sighed.

  “Say hello to Tanya James at the florist’s. You remember her? Her maiden name was Yeltsin.”

  “I remember her well.”

  “She married Bob James in your class.”

  “Bob was always a good guy. Intensely shy, but kind.”

  “He passed away six months ago. A heart attack while out working.”

  “I see a lot of that sort of thing.”

  “Yes. I imagine as a cardiologist that you do.”