Pewter Angels (26 page)

Mr. Neader got up walked around his desk pushed some of the paper along his desktop to make room for at least part of his butt and sat down on the edge.

Here it comes
, thought Henry.

“Henry,” Mr. Neader looked straight into his student’s eyes and went on, “basketball season starts up next month and I was glad to see you signed up for it. You’re a good player and students respect you. Frankly, I didn’t expect to see that kind of behaviour from you today. But what I’m getting at is this: I’m going to appoint you captain of the team.”

The teacher stopped and asked, “Are you willing to accept that role? It means it’s your job to get the best out of your team, keep them in line, motivate them, keep their spirits high, be a leader and make them want to follow you. Right?”

Henry nodded slowly, confused.
What does this have to do with Eddy?

“So, what do you say?”

Henry was quiet for a bit, having fully expected to get a blast, or possibly detention for his behaviour in the gym, and instead he was asked if he wanted to be the team captain. What a relief.

And yet he was sure another shoe was about to drop.
Still
…

“Yeah, sure, Mr. Neader, that’d be great!”

“There is one stipulation, Hank: I’d like to see Eddy Zeigler make the team.”

And
clunk,
there it is
. The blood drained from Henry’s face.

“You gotta be kidding, Coach! He doesn’t even know the rules, he’s short, and … and, he’s bad news!”

“Let’s look at what you just said. I agree he doesn’t know the rules. Yes, it’s obvious he’s the shortest guy on the floor, but did you see the way he deeked around Miller last period—”

“Yeah, but then he traveled and fouled—”

“But you have to admit, he had Miller going around in a circle.”

“That’s because Miller’s used to playing with players as tall as he is.”

“That’s it Henry, exactly! Eddy’s height is his advantage. Imagine, with a little training and coaching, we can turn that raw talent into a very good player. He may surprise all of us.”

“I don’t know, Coach. Eddy may have
some
talent, but to turn it into something may take a long time and … I don’t think that it’s possible. And like I said, Eddy’s bad news.”

“That’s my second point, Henry. He may be what you say, but it’s our job to make every student good news.” And with a gaze that had Engelmann written all over it he said pointedly, “Right?”

Henry looked at his instructor. Just then he sure reminded him of his mentor at the store. Reluctantly, Henry admitted to himself that Mr. Neader was right, and he did understand what his teacher meant; he wasn’t just talking about Eddy, but Henry as well … But to have to help that Eddy … I can’t stand the guy.

“Henry, I know this is hard for you, I’ve been in similar situations from time to time in my life, but this I know: if you accept this challenge, it’s going to change you for the better. And, to help motivate you, think on it this way …”

Mr. Neader got up and rubbed his butt, “Geez, I’ve got to clean up this mess one of these days—can’t even sit comfortably on my own desk.”

This time he rested both his hands behind him on the edge of his desk near the middle and slowly leaned back, positioning his butt between them.

“Oh yes, where was I? Oh yeah. Think on it this way, Henry: at the start anyway, as a team captain you have to lay aside differences you might have with any player on the team. When you’re on the court, you’re part of a team. There’s no room for grudges or any kind of nonsense, no matter how justified you may feel. Right? You just may find that after a while you begin to feel that way off the court as well. So,” he asked again, “what do you say?”

Geez, I don’t know … help Zeigler? Who would ever have thought that I would even
consider
such a thing?
And as Henry thought about it, other thoughts seemed to come out of nowhere, just like the time he’d gone to see Mr. Engelmann about working for him. He had every intention of turning down the job offer, yet words had come out of his mouth that morning that had totally surprised him. But now he knew that working for Mr. Engelmann was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Was it possible that the same thing might happen again?
No way.

And just as Henry opened his mouth to politely decline the offer from his well meaning coach, the following words came to his lips.

“I’ll give it my best shot, Coach.”

T
ed Sarsky sighed as
he closed the office door behind him. He stepped back and looked at his name painted on the translucent glass panel of the door. He gazed at the title below his name:
president
. It was much sooner than he had expected. At forty-seven, he’d made it to the top, and he still considered himself a young man.

Ted exuded an air of importance. He was tall and handsome and well dressed. His black hair had a natural wave, and streaks of silver grey had emerged through the sides, adding to his distinguished appearance. At six-foot-two, he towered over most people, which further strengthened his presidential status; people literally looked up to him. His dark brown eyes held a smile as he read the title once more.
How quickly circumstances change,
he marveled as he turned and walked towards the elevator.

Perhaps the main reason he had been promoted so quickly was because he was a man of impeccable integrity. He was honest and straightforward in all his dealings, and had received more contracts than his competitors because of that. His colleagues respected him, perceiving him to be fair and objective. He worked extremely hard and had high expectations of his staff. He’d never burned a bridge. Ted Sarsky’s only fault was his tendency to enjoy an extra drink or two. He was always careful not to overindulge in public and was even watchful at home.

But Ted was tired. He had been up since five and could hardly wait to get home and have a relaxing drink. Learning the duties and responsibilities of his new position had not been easy. At least three other executives had hoped to be selected for the position and were unhappy they had not been chosen. Although his rivals were cooperative and even helpful, at least two of them carried some degree of resentment. They were good at concealing it, but Ted had been in the business a long time and could read loyalty.

The first few weeks had been spent getting acquainted with the staff so he could position the right employees in the right roles based on ability and job performance. His choice, however, was always guided by his instincts. There were two executives he felt he could completely rely upon, and they became his right hand team. Fortunately, Ted and Elaine, his predecessor’s secretary, had hit it off immediately, and she’d helped him adjust and sort things out. She had been with the company for over fifteen years and knew the business better than anybody, including the former president.

Ted let out a sigh as he walked out to the car. Besides having to deal with his new position and staff, he’d also had to cope with Jenny. She had been completely overwrought the night they’d left Regina and had hardly spoken a word during the entire flight, having cried most of the time. Jenny was very fond of that Henry, and had told him all about how nice the boy was and how he’d helped make improvements at Engelmann’s Grocery. Ted was sorry he hadn’t had time to meet Henry and see for himself what Jenny had found so appealing.

The last four years had been hard on them all. If the board of directors hadn’t assured him this would be his final move, he wouldn’t have accepted the position, great as the job was. Jenny had been reluctant to leave Vancouver; she loved the ocean and the West Coast scenery. She’d only accepted the move to Regina because the waving wheat fields of the prairies reminded her of the waves of the ocean. Also, she preferred smaller cities and Regina had reminded her of Kelowna, where she’d been born. Jenny had grown to love the small-town atmosphere of Regina and had immediately liked her new neighbourhood—and the boy three doors down in particular.

And that had been the start of the problem. Jenny wanted to be with Henry all the time, and the move to Ottawa had only made her feelings stronger. It was those darn letters. The very thought of them made him shudder. He inhaled, then exhaled slowly, hoping to dispel the guilt creeping into his chest.

The sky was overcast as Ted drove onto the freeway to the outskirts of Ottawa. It was almost a two-hour commute to get home. But the long drive gave him a chance to unwind and think about the day and the company. That evening, however, he was completely absorbed by thoughts of his daughter.

As Ted neared the Sarskys’ new home—a stately Tudor two-storey on a five acre plot of land—he recalled the day they’d arrived in Ottawa and the driver had brought them to look at their new home. The sight of the beautiful house, surrounded by incredible landscaping, had brightened Jenny’s face if only for a moment.

Their first week had been extremely busy. While Edith began unpacking, he had spent almost an entire day with Jenny at her new high school, meeting the administration and some of her teachers. The teachers noticed immediately that his daughter seemed troubled. He blamed it on the move, rather than the separation from her boyfriend.

Now, as Ted drove up the winding, scenic road of their estate, he looked to the second floor of his home where the bedrooms were situated. On the first night they had spent in their new home, Jenny had wanted to write Henry a letter and had gone directly to the room she’d chosen as hers. She hadn’t come out the entire evening. The next morning, Jenny had given him the letter to mail. But before Ted left for the city, Edith had pulled him aside and told him not to send it, that she would explain later. He’d tossed the letter into the glove compartment and forgotten all about it. A few days later, Jenny gave him another to mail and he was reminded of the first. After Jenny went to bed, he and his wife had discussed the whole matter and agreed it best to destroy the letters.

It seemed wrong and yet he felt justified in terminating the relationship between Jenny and her young man. They’d been too close, too fast. His wife certainly felt that if they’d stayed in Regina, Jenny would have been pregnant before the year was out. Edith had been so relieved when the new position was offered to him, she hadn’t complained once about the move. Ted also agreed with Edith that Jenny needed stability in her life, and new friends, not to be overburdened with a serious relationship at such a young age. Yet destroying his daughter’s letters bothered him deeply, even more so when Jenny began to ask if mail had arrived for her. Ted had hoped Jenny would soon be over it and adjust to her new life in Ottawa.

Ted was so deep in thought that he arrived in his garage without realizing it, the door closing behind him. It alarmed him somewhat that he couldn’t remember opening the garage door and driving in.

“One of these days, I’ll end up in no man’s land,” he muttered. And today Engelmann had called. Ted was too tired to discuss it with Edith tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.

On the way to work
the next morning, Ted decided to read one of Jenny’s letters. He had thrown most of them out, but there were still a few from the previous week at his office and one in the glove compartment from the day before. He pulled his car into a roadside rest area and parked in front of a huge sign with a map outlining the main streets of Ottawa. Under the guise of studying the sign, Ted read Jenny’s letter. He was, in a sense, looking for direction, not to the city centre, but to where his daughter’s heart was heading.

Ted rolled down the window and was met by a blast of crisp morning air. The breeze momentarily cleared his troubled mind. Uneasiness and uncertainty about opening his daughter’s mail mingled with his guilt over having lied to Jenny about mailing the letters to begin with. Hopefully, something in this letter would vindicate their decision and convince him that what he and Edith were doing was right.

He opened the glove box but hesitated before bringing the letter out. Sweat broke out across his forehead. He knew on some level that it was cruel to let his daughter believe he was mailing her letters. It only encouraged her to write again and again, pouring her heart out. It devastated him to see Jenny’s crestfallen face day after day of no reply. He heaped that guilt on top of the knowledge that Jenny had no idea her letters weren’t even reaching Henry.

Before Ted could come up with a rationale to counter his guilt and shame, he thought about Henry. What was the boy feeling? Was he still hoping to hear from Jenny? He was probably writing letters as well, waiting to learn Jenny’s address. Two lives were hurt by the choice he and Edith had made, and Ted felt an alarming surge of remorse that he did his best to tamp down.

“When Edith and I talked, it all seemed so right, so logical, so clear. And now … I just don’t know anymore,” he muttered.

The whole dilemma weighed on him. It was exhausting. If only they hadn’t interfered and had just let things run their natural course, Jenny would already be receiving letters. As he visualized the letters Jenny had written and the many he had already destroyed, he could no longer hold back his emotions.

What have we done?
He hung his head. And that was probably why Engelmann had phoned. He must see the anguish in Henry as Ted saw it in Jenny.

Finally, he pulled out the letter Jenny had given him the previous morning, flipping it over and over in his hand, debating. He almost put it back in the glove compartment but he was in the wrong already. What was one further mistake? And perhaps the choice they’d made as Jenny’s parents would be rationalized. He and Edith wanted only the best for her, after all. Maybe the letter would say she was getting over the boy, and they could all get on with their lives. Ted’s hands trembled as he ripped the sealed envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper.

“Henry should be doing this. It’s his letter,” Ted sighed. He took a deep breath, unfolded the page, and lowered his eyes to his daughter’s writing.

Dear Henry,

It’s been almost two months since I moved to Ottawa. This is the twenty-third letter I’ve written you. There’s been not one letter in return. Every night I lie in bed wondering what happened and why you don’t write back to me. My father says he’s mailed all my letters. Maybe some have been lost, but you must have received some of them surely?

If you’re going out with someone else, I promise I’ll be very happy for you. If you are afraid to write for fear that you might hurt my feelings, please don’t be. Just let me know what’s happened and how you feel about us. Each time I write to you, I find it harder to express my feelings. Perhaps you have another girlfriend and love her deeply, and when I write and tell you that I still have feelings for you, maybe you feel sad or guilty. Oh, Henry, if you have a new girlfriend, that’s great.

If I don’t hear from you in the next week I’ll assume you have either found someone new or no longer want me to be your girlfriend.

Just to let you know, I went with Susan and Elaine, the two new friends I mentioned to you in my last letters, to a sleep-over party at Susan’s house last night. We had a lot of fun. We laughed and joked and talked about the boys at school. I told them about you and how great you are, that you’re such a wonderful person and businessman—and that someday you’ll be a famous artist.

They thought that was so romantic.

I hope school is going well for you, Henry, and if you have the time, please write soon.

I miss you … so much.

Jenny

Ted lay the letter on his lap. He had tears in his eyes. Jenny still had feelings for that boy and desperately wanted some closure.
My father says he’s mailed all my letters
, rang in Ted’s mind. How could he have lied to his daughter over and over again? He had compromised his honesty, something he would never have done in business. He felt the wrongness of it in his heart and gut, and sighed. He would have to revisit the whole matter with Edith when he got home tonight. He’d ask her to read the letter too—surely she’d agree that their decision had been a mistake.

Preoccupied with the letter, Ted didn’t notice the patrol car pull up behind him until he heard gravel crunching under heavy footsteps. The police officer tapped at the window. Ted quickly dashed a trace of tears from his eyes and tossed the letter aside.

“Everything all right, sir?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Ted countered, glancing quickly at the officer and then straight ahead. “Just stopped for a little break to enjoy the fine morning.”

“May I see your driver’s license, please?”

“Yes, of course.” He took out his wallet, removed his driver’s license and handed it to the officer, who was now studying him intensely.

“You’re Mr. Sarsky, are you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And your address is correct?”

“Yes, it is. We just moved here. Is something wrong, officer?”

“No, just checking, sir. Routine procedure.”

“I see,” said Ted. “Is it okay for me to go then? I have an early meeting and an important phone call to make at the office.”

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” the officer asked once more, handing Ted his driver’s license back.

“Yes, I assure you I’m fine.”

“Well, you have a good day now.”

“Yes, I’m sure I will,” Ted lied, thinking of what he had to do.

“And you too, officer.”

Ted fingered the slip
of paper with Engelmann’s phone number. He’d have to wait; he had to talk to Edith first.

There was another phone message from the grocery store owner waiting for him when he returned from his meeting.