Making Angels Laugh Read online

  “We can’t leave any witnesses,” Peter said.

  God would forgive her, surely, under these conditions, for entering the altar area, when it was to save her life and to try to save these holy items, as she had no doubt both the boys would kill her if they caught her and that the wooden building was going to be a total loss once they set it ablaze.

  Holding the holy things tightly to her chest, she ran out of the church and over to the priest’s house and pounded on the door.

  Matushka Ekaterina answered the door. Not giving the priest’s wife time to say anything, Margarita hurried into speech, “Call the fire department. Three boys are trying to burn the church down.”

  The priest’s wife looked at her, uncomprehendingly. “Say that again, Margarita Alexandrova?”

  “They’re trying to burn the church down. They’ve got gas cans and are drunk and are talking about burning down the Church! I’ve saved what I could. Please, Matushka, take these, then call the fire department.”

  Matushka shouted, “Vanka!” calling her husband.

  Father Ivan came out of the house in time to see the boys get into Greg’s truck and drive away as the white painted wooden structure that was Saint Konstantin’s whooshed into flames.

  Father Ivan took the blessed things from Rita, put them in the house, then ran over to the church hoping to save some other of the very holy things in the altar. But by the time he reached the building, the smoke was so thick, and the heat so great, that it wasn’t safe to enter.

  Father Ivan ran for the ladder and the garden hose. She and Matushka started pumping and carrying buckets of water to wet down the walls of the rectory, while Father was on the ladder spraying down the roof. Nothing could be done to save the church. But maybe if they kept the roof and walls wet, no ember carried by the wind would set the rectory ablaze, too.

  By the time the volunteer fire department responded, flames had engulfed the roof of Saint Konstantin’s. The sheriff, Peter’s father, came out with the fire department. Father Ivan came down from the ladder and stood with his wife and Rita on the front porch of the rectory.

  She remembered the barely controlled rage on Peter’s father’s face when all three of them told him that his son was one of the three boys who had set the fire. She had been afraid of the son, but the father’s enraged expression had been enough to chill her to the bone.

  “You say nothing about this to anyone,” the Sheriff, Peter’s father ordered, his voice low, fierce, and full of clear threat, “I don’t want to have to arrest you for impeding an investigation.”

  “What is there to investigate?” Father Ivan demanded. “There is nothing here to investigate. Those hooligans, your son included, set fire to the church. We saw them.”

  “Did you have insurance?” Peter’s father, the sheriff, dismissed.

  “Yes,” Father replied. “The building is insured. But the insurance company will come after the arsonists. We will make sure of that.”

  The sheriff looked at the priest with an expression that demanded “Don’t cross me in this, or else!” and said, “No, they will not. Because you will say nothing of this to anyone.”

  Father Ivan flinched.

  The sheriff smiled tightly and said in a voice low enough to be heard no farther away than three of them, “Here’s how this is going to go down. As the local fire marshal, I will return a verdict that this was caused by one of your many oil lamps falling and catching the Church on fire. You will collect the insurance. And the boys will be dealt with very quietly on vandalism charges as juveniles. If any of you say anything different to anyone, you won’t live long enough to be deposed in this matter and no one will ever find your bodies. At any rate, there will be nothing serious done to any of these boys. They all have great futures that I won’t see destroyed by the likes of you. The parish was going to close anyway as most of your parishioners are now either dead in the mine collapse or have no jobs since the mine is closing. I’d imagine that the insurance company adjustor could be easily convinced that this was an inside bit of arson by a priest and a few parishioners to line their own pockets by burning down the church of a dying congregation. But that is the least of your potential problems. Say anything to anyone about this, even think about saying anything, and it will be the last thing that you ever say to anyone. I will kill you, one or all, if I even think you are going to say anything to anyone about this. So, play along or suffer the consequences.”

  Margarita saw Father Ivan grasp his wife’s hand.

  “I hope that you understand me,” the sheriff practically growled.

  “Completely,” Father Ivan said.

  “Good. And that goes for all of you. You will keep your mouths closed about this, if you know what’s good for you. Otherwise, you’ll all be as dead as this building. I will see to it.”

  And she knew the sheriff had meant every word he had said.

  Rita sighed heavily and wiped the tears from her eyes as she walked to her car. There was no sense in reliving this, even in memory. Tomorrow morning, she would leave here and probably never return. This was the past. It was over. It was done with. And if she didn’t let it, it wouldn’t have the ability to hurt her. Not anymore. It was an evil memory that needed to be stored away and never brought out again.

  Chapter Six

  Ten minutes after the stated time for the pre-dinner cocktails to begin, Rita looked at herself in the cheval mirror which stood in the corner of the bedroom at the Fisher’s. She had left her hair down. She knew she was really too old to wear her hair this way, and it would be more elegant in an updo. Yet, the dress was elegant enough, too elegant for the Legion Hall. She could let her hair down for this. She had kept her hair long, mostly out of a need not to spend time each morning fussing with blow driers and curling irons as well as not wanting to take the time to go to the beautician every few weeks to maintain a short style. It never took much effort to brush and braid her hair and to knot the braid on the back of her head and to cover it with a snood.

  She pulled her hair to the side and began braiding it. She’d wear it in one braid over her right shoulder, with a nice green ribbon binding the end. This too was a “young” style, but it was better than leaving it down and loose.

  Reasonably satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her evening bag and left the room.

  Henry and Sally Fisher were waiting for her. He whistled in appreciation of her appearance. “You always were lovely. You are stunning tonight, Margarita Aleksandrova.”

  “I clean up well enough, I suppose. And I told you to call me Rita, Henry.”

  Sally laughed. “Yes. Definitely, well enough. Are you ready to go?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “If you’re this afraid of going, you don’t have to,” Henry Fisher advised, his voice kind.

  “I’m not afraid of the terrible trio. I haven’t been afraid of them for a very long time.”

  Henry Fisher looked at her for a long time. “Peter and Greg won’t be allowed to hurt you.”

  “No, they won’t. I won’t let them. I’m not the same girl they used to bully so successfully. That doesn’t mean I want to be around them.”

  Sally nodded. “We are going to walk down to the Legion Hall? Do you have your house key in case you decide to stay longer than we will?”

  “Yes.” Just then her phone rang. She retrieved it from her purse and looked at the number. “Go ahead. I need to take this. It’s my clinic. This may take some time.”

  She answered the phone. The Fishers walked out the door. “Yes, Janet, what’s up?”

  “Are you going to your reunion?”

  With a heavy sigh, she replied, “I’m dressed and was about to go out the door when you called.”

  “Good. Have fun. Enjoy the music and talking to people.”

  “Anything else you have to say? I’ve gotten this message loud and clear.”

  “If things get unpleasant, just remember it’s okay to defend yourself.”

>   “Like I wouldn’t?”

  Janet laughed. She only half teased, “Just don’t kill them unless there’s no choice and clearly justifiable as self-defense. They aren’t worth your spending the rest of your life in jail over.”

  “No, they aren’t… Anything else, Coach?” Rita teased her practice partner.

  “Go and have a good time.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Just relax and don’t try too hard. If it’s really intolerable, then leave early. But give it a chance. People do sometimes grow up and regret being the asses they were in high school.”

  “And sometimes the bad goes all the way to the bone.”

  Janet sighed. Clearly worried, she asked, “Did we do the wrong thing by sending you there?”

  Rita sighed. “No. I needed to see my father’s grave. And I never would have done it if you and the boys hadn’t forced the issue. I needed to go there... Did you know that the bed and breakfast is run by my former high school principal and his wife?”

  “No, really?” Janet said with a laugh that told Rita this fact was no surprise.

  “One day, Janet, I’ll pay you back for this with interest.”

  “Probably,” Janet admitted. “Now go and have a good time. That’s Doctor’s Orders.”

  “Goodnight, Janet. Thank you. I did need to see Papa’s grave. I wouldn’t have come here of my own volition.”

  “Just have a good time tonight and then have fun with your sons and mother on the cruise.”

  “Doctor’s orders?” Rita teased.

  “Yep. Now, get going. You’re going to be late.”

  The Legion Hall was only two blocks down from the Fisher’s home.

  The music from the reunion party was audible half a block away.

  She was nearly overwhelmed by the noise of the recorded music and the conversations when she entered the Legion Hall. The woman who sat at the registration table in the cloakroom wore a name tag that said “Glenna Neele Versen.” But except for that name tag, Rita would have been hard pressed to identify her. The years had not been kind to Glenna. In school, woman had been stunningly beautiful, seemingly without a care in the world. But neither carefree nor beautiful were accurate adjectives to describe the Glenna who was manning the registration table.

  “The Legion is closed tonight. This is a private party, by invitation only,” Glenna said, unpleasantly, dismissing her completely.

  “Then it’s a good thing I was invited, isn’t it, Glenna?” Rita said as she signed in and took her preprinted name tag from the small collection that were still unclaimed. She placed that abomination in her purse. There was no way she was going to wear a sign that proclaimed her to be “Margarita ‘Piggy’ Melnikova”. It could have been worse. It could have said “Butter Butt”, “Large Marge”, or something far worse.

  Glenna looked at her, disbelief carrying over into her words, “You’re Margarita Aleksandrova?”

  “I am.”

  “I wouldn’t have known you. You’re so skinny. Are you sick?”

  “No, not in the least.”

  “Most of the rest of us have put on weight. But you’re absolutely gorgeous and so thin.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You never had kids, then? You couldn’t be that slender if you’d ever had children,” Glenna dismissed.

  “Actually, I have three grown sons.”

  “My God, you must work out constantly to stay so thin.”

  “Not really. I do spend a few hours a week in the gym at my clinic. I’m on my feet taking care of patients much of the day.”

  Glenna stood, leaned over the table, looked through the cloakroom door into the club, towards the bar. She said, lowly, in a warning tone, “Greg and Pete are in the bar at the back of the hall. They came, signed in, were rude and lewd as usual, and then went back to the bar. I haven’t seen them come out.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll stay out of the bar. Think we can make sure they stay there for the rest of the party?”

  Glenna laughed, nervously. “I doubt it. While they normally spend these things largely in the bar, they do usually come out and get something to eat. It’s good to see you, Margarita. I’d like to talk to you later tonight, privately, if you can give me a few minutes.”

  “What would you like to talk about, Glenna?”

  The other woman sighed heavily before speaking, “I owe you an immense apology. I should have had more courage when we were in high school. You were unfailingly courteous to me. But, I was too afraid of the terrible trio to return the kindness. You don’t know how much my behavior towards you has bothered me over the years. I was a coward. And I regret it, more than I can tell you.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for, Glenna. You did what you felt you had to do to survive.”

  “Again, that’s kind of you. However, we both know that it’s untrue and that I was a coward. Because of my cowardice you were harmed. It bothers me. I need your forgiveness.”

  “I forgive you.” And oddly enough in saying those words, Rita felt a weight lift away from her soul. “I have forgiven everyone.” And she knew that was true. The scars were still in her soul, but she had forgiven them, all of them, even the remaining members of the terrible trio. “It’s all over and in the past. Let’s leave it there, shall we? Now, I’m going to get something to drink. May I bring you something?”

  Glenna held up a half-full cup of what looked to be iced tea. “I’m fine. Thanks. Most everyone is here. I’m going to abandon my post and go mix with people.”

  “Sounds like a good thing.”

  “You’re not wearing a wedding ring,” Glenna observed.

  “Took it off about four years after my husband died. It was time.”

  Glenna nodded tightly. “Probably for the best… We have to move on with our lives.”

  “Yes, we do,” Rita replied.

  She walked from the cloakroom into the main hall, then to the soft drinks table at the corner of the hall and grabbed a bottle of water from a big etched glass bowl filled both with half liter bottles of spring water on ice. The rest of the contents of the beverage table were: disposable plastic cups; an ice bucket and tongs; three tall, stemmed and spouted, etched glass drink dispensers, labelled on the lids as holding lemonade, “sweet tea”, and unsweetened iced tea; a stack of foam coffee cups; a sixty cup percolator of “regular coffee”; a smaller percolator of “decaf”; a sugar bowl; a carafe of cream on ice; and silver colored plastic spoons. In addition to this soft beverage table, there was a table that held bottles and cans of assorted domestic beers and hard ciders on ice.

  Another nearby table held what would pass for appetizers; an array of several kinds of chips and cold dips, a vegetable tray, a fruit tray, large peel and eat shrimp on ice with cocktail sauce on the side, and a tray of bacon wrapped stuffed dates. There were also and several chafing dishes each containing a different hot appetizer; spinach artichoke dip, mini eggrolls, fried wontons, fried mozzarella sticks, jalapeno poppers, and mini sweet and sour meatballs. She put a few pieces of broccoli, a couple of chunks of cauliflower, some green bell pepper strips, a generous spoonful of guacamole, some salsa, couple of shrimp, and a spear of fresh pineapple on her plate.

  She had expected an evening of somewhat less than glittering elegance. And it looked very much as if she were going to be correct in that expectation. But this wasn’t as “chintzy” as it could have been. It was clear Tanya was doing as good of a job as she could within the budget of the event.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Jack’s cousin, Jim, said from behind her. “I’m glad that you did decide to join us tonight.”

  “You don’t know how close I came to just throwing everything back in the rental car and driving back to St. Louis.”

  “But you stayed for the party. So, will you come back more often, now that you’ve broken your ‘I will never go back to that place’ rule?” he asked, his voice cautious.

  “Maybe to visit my father’s grave,” she allowed.
r />   “I’m very glad you’re here, tonight,” he said.

  “So am I, now.”

  Changing the subject pointedly, he said, “I don’t have to tell you everyone is staring at you, wondering who this beautiful woman is who is standing beside me.”

  “You know this town and gossip. Glenna checked me in. Already, she’s making the rounds telling everyone who I am. I hope they get an eyeful.”

  He said as he took her hand in his, “You are an eyeful; clearly the most beautiful woman here.”

  “Glad to know the costuming is effective.”

  He chuckled. “It’s more than the trappings. There isn’t a man in the room, except maybe Martin Caldwell, who isn’t looking at you. And I caught Father Marty stealing glances as you walked through. Come on over and sit with us.”

  Jim’s blue eyes sparkled with happiness.

  Retrieving her plate and bottle of water, she followed him across the room to the table for six where Kevin, their wives, and Jack’s widow, Em, sat. Kevin stood as she approached.

  “Rita, this is Kathy, Kevin’s wife and Marian who is married to me. And you know Em, of course. This is Margarita Aleksandrova who was in school with us,” Jim said. “She was the most brilliant person to ever come out of Township High, making the rest of us look like apes in comparison.”

  “Hardly,” Rita replied with a chuckle.

  Em laughed, but the sound was strained. “Jack always said you were the most brilliant woman he had ever known. Didn’t do a lot for my ego. But that’s life. You can’t run from truth.”