Snow Angels
October
"Hannibal, please stop prowling around the room. Mr. Olsen doesn't bite and he will calm Miss Tuchman down. Jed will be chastised but he'll be fine," Mrs.
Palmer sought to reassure the agitated thirteen-year old.
The dark-haired adolescent stopped in front of the headmaster's secretary's desk. His brown eyes, dark with anxiety, looked straight at her. "You don't understand. Jed won't explain things properly. He won't talk. He'll just stand there, and not say a word, until Mr. Olsen gives him his punishment."
The middle-aged woman sighed as young master Heyes was probably correct. His curly blond-headed cousin had become increasingly withdrawn during their first year at The Valparaiso Home for Waywards. Jedediah Curry had also become somewhat of a frequent visitor to the Headmaster's office as his teachers and caretakers did not have the time to deal with his explosive behavior. She had long ago given up trying to send Hannibal away and instead offered a sympathetic ear while he waited for his troubled younger cousin to emerge from the headmaster's office.
"Do you know what this latest incident in the classroom is all about, Hannibal?"
Han stole a glance at the closed wood-paneled door and with a sigh of his own dropped his lanky frame down into the chair along the wall, closest to Mrs. Palmer's desk. He pushed is too-long dark hair from his eyes and focused on the floor between his feet.
"No…well, not really…kinda…sorta."
Mrs. Palmer raised her eyebrows and put her pen down. She gave what she hoped was an encouraging small smile. "Kinda…sorta? Care to elaborate a little."
Han looked up, a fleeting smile crossed his lips before forming a slight frown. His face turned towards the inner office door. "We were given an essay to write, you know, to practice our writing skill. Miss Tuchman gave out different topics to the different age groups. Jed didn't want to write about his topic and asked if he could write about my group's subject. She said no. When she went around checking on everyone's progress she read some of Jed's, got real mad and tore it up into little pieces and threw the pieces on the floor. She made him pick up every last bit of paper off the floor while she yelled at him. She said he mocked her authority and he was too stupid and stubborn to teach. He musta wrote what he wanted, not his assigned subject."
Han checked to see if Mrs. Palmer was still listening. She was. He needed to explain because Jed certainly wouldn't. He needed to explain to Mr. Olsen although he knew he wasn't likely to get the chance. Maybe Mrs. Palmer would tell him.
"It shouldn't matter, the subject, I mean. Jed hates to write so why should she care as long as he writes somethin'. It was just for writing practice not like a test or anything."
In the hope of finding a path to reach the sullen youngster Mrs. Palmer asked, "What were the topics, Hannibal?"
"Jed's group was Beginnings. Mine was Celebrations."
The secretary rested her chin in her hand as gave consideration to the topics. Both seemed appropriate with "The War Between the States" ended only a few months past. She didn't understand why one would appear more attractive over the other, particularly for someone who communicated meaningfully with less and less people. She leveled a steady gray-eyed gaze at her waiting and worried companion. "Do you know what he was writing about?"
"I don't really know coz Miss Tuchman tore the essay up before I could help Jed with his spelling." He gave her a swift, serious nod in response to the unspoken question. "The older kids are allowed to help the younger with practice writing when we're done with ours. So, I don't know but I suspect."
"Go on, what do you suspect he was writing about?"
"It's October. Most of Jed's family has…had…had birthdays in the spring and summer but his younger sister, Ruth, had a birthday in October. Today would have been her birthday."
Han let out such a world-weary sigh that had he not continued speaking, she would have risen and hugged the anxious thirteen-year-old to her ample bosom.
His voice lowered as he once again turned his too-old brown eyes to the interior office door. "We don't like to think about them. It's too hard. We agreed, it's better to forget and move on but sometimes you remember even if you don't wanna." He searched her face for understanding.
"I know, Han, I do know. I lost my two sons early in the war. I still have my daughter, and for that I'm grateful but you're right sometimes the memories just come when you least expect them. Mr. Olsen knows that too. I'll tell you something you probably don't know. I know you'll keep things to yourself."
The boy's eyes met the woman's with abashed earnestness. He nodded solemnly.
Mrs. Palmer lowered her voice so that Han had to lean closer to the desk to hear her words. "Mr. Olsen knows that also. He, too, has lost family in this unfortunate conflict. He is not the ogre many of the children here make him out to be. He is simply an overburdened man trying to keep a roof that has minimal leaks overhead, food on the tables, clothes on your backs, provide an education and try to care for many more children that this place was designed to handle. And he does care, Hannibal, he is actually quite skilled in helping troubled young people. After all, it is why he came to Valparaiso in the first place. It was only the war that caused all the children such as yourself and your cousin to come to live here that make him concentrate more on keeping the place going and he has had to rely on the staff to do most of the caring. But Jed has to let him care in order for Mr. Olsen to help him."
Both heads rose at the sound of a loud bell ringing through the Home's corridors.
"That's the ten-minute warning bell. Lunch is over, classes will be starting soon. Don't you have somewhere to be young man? I'll tell you what. How about after class, before chores, we finish our talk. Perhaps Mr. Olsen can find the time to talk with us. I know he wants to help Jed. I'll write you a pass. Is that satisfactory?"
Han screwed his face up and wondered if Jed would be mad if he talked to Mr. Olsen. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that Jed could ever be the same since he knew deep down inside he, himself, had changed irrevocably, but he wanted his open, good-natured best friend back. Not the silent, withdrawn and angry person Jed was becoming. He could deal with the uncertainties that life was throwing at him as long as Jed remained constant.
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am. The B wing classroom isn't far; I can make it in a minute or two. Can I stay for a few more minutes in case Jed comes out? Please ma'am." Mrs. Palmer was treated to a rare, real, charming grin.
The inner office door opened abruptly and a tall, thin middle-aged woman stalked out. Her sour expression turned even fouler as she spied Hannibal Heyes in the anteroom. "I expect you in the classroom before the next bell, Mr. Heyes," she stated in clipped tones.
Han had leapt to his feet and was inching towards the door, trying to look around his teacher into the headmaster's office. "Yes, ma'am," he uttered automatically.
Miss Tuchman huffed as she hurried out the door, her heels clicking angrily on the hardwood floors of the corridor.
Han could glimpse Jed through the door now as his cousin sought to leave the headmaster's office. He heard Jed's name being called and Jed hesitated, looked over his shoulder and appeared to be listening. Han couldn't hear what was being said, despite straining his excellent hearing in an effort to do so. Han couldn't make our Jed's replied murmur either but didn't have high hopes judging from his best friend's closed expression.
"You didn't have to come and wait," Jed remarked sullenly when Han fell in step with him as the pair left the office.
"I know. Anyway, I had nothing better to do," Han answered.
Jed stopped, turned and stared at his cousin. "It was lunch time. You missed your lunch. You need to eat, Han, we don't get much. You'll be really hungry before dinner and I don't have any of the hidden stuff left."
"Nah, I don't need as much food as you. I'll be fine. Come on, we better not be late getting back to class. I think we've had enough trouble for one day." Han nudged Jed's shoulder to get him going again.
The boys gave quick looks up and down the corridor before taking off in a flat-out run.
Skidding to the classroom door just as the afternoon class bell rang, Jed grabbed Han's sleeve. "I'm sorry, Han. Thanks for waiting." Jed slipped through the door and into his seat in the far corner of the classroom.
Heyes quickly took his own seat as Miss Tuchman turned from the chalkboard and wondered not for the first time if they were doing the right thing – burying their memories like they buried their families. He opened his worn math book and his confidence regarding their decision grew. They would make new memories together and when they got out of this place they would be good memories.
Mrs. Palmer stuck her head into her employer's office to see if he needed anything after what must have been another trying encounter with Miss Tuchman and her least favorite pupil. She noted his weary posture with his right arm slowly rubbing his left shoulder. He must be tense, she thought.
Mr. Olsen looked up, his face pale and strained looking.
"You can't save them all, even though you want to. You do the best you can. Can I get you some tea, sir? You look drained."
"I should be able to save one small boy. That used to be my calling before things got out of hand with the war. Jed Curry's angelic looks belie a troubled mind. I fear for him. Behind those blue eyes is a wealth of anger and hurt. And despite Miss Tuchman's assessment of him, he is far from stupid. I know he does not have his cousin's academic talents but make no mistake, Harriet, those blond curls hide an active and quick intelligent mind if not an even temper. Still at least he has Hannibal. Some have no one. And Hannibal is an especially astute and clever young man even if he is prone to grand schemes. I hope his high hopes become reality someday. I have faith that as long as Han and Jed's bond hold they'll land on their feet; they both have strong wills. But I wish I could smooth their way or wayward might actually come to describe them."
"If it makes you feel any better, I think young Hannibal is ready to trust us to help. It's taken a while but he and I started to have a real conversation while he waited for his cousin. He promised to come back after class to continue what we started. Perhaps he can give you the opening that you seek with Jed."
Mr. Olsen retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a trail of sweat from his forehead. "Yes, I will have to make the time. Thank you for arranging matters, Harriet."
"You really don't look well, sir. About the tea?"
"Yes, please. Perhaps the cook can brew some ginger tea. I seem to be suffering from indigestion all morning and Miss Tuchman's uncompromising attitude and Jedediah Curry's stubbornness hasn't helped it."
Mrs. Palmer returned to the office a short time later with a pot of ginger tea and a plate of saltines. She opened the inner office door and caught site of the headmaster's gray face, open staring eyes and slumped-over body. The tray crashed to floor.
"Mr. Olsen? Mr. Olsen! Mr. Olsen can you hear me! Oh, my God!"
November
Mrs. Palmer looked up from her desk at the soft tentative footfalls.
"Hannibal, you know you can't wait here. Please return to where you are supposed to be. I doubt you could help Jed by getting into trouble yourself and making things worse for him. Mr. Colbert will not be pleased to see you here. Now go."
"But I gotta explain," The dark-haired young man entreated.
Mrs. Palmer's voice conveyed more than a little sadness, "The only explanation Mr. Colbert will listen to is Miss Tuchman's. Now, you really better leave. Please Hannibal."
Hannibal reluctantly scooted out the hallway door as Miss Tuchman left the inner office.
The spinster stopped at the headmaster's secretary's desk and remarked to woman behind it, "It is a pleasure to finally work with a headmaster who appreciates the importance of self-control and appreciation for authority to maintain order in this institution. After today, Jedediah Curry is no longer my problem. Let the head caretaker deal with the insolent brat. Jedediah is too stupid and stubborn to realize the error of his ways in squandering his educational opportunities so let him appreciate the value of a hard day's labor until he can be apprenticed out. Too bad he's only eleven and we won't be able to be rid of him for several years yet." She glanced back at the inner office with a satisfied smirk before she entered the corridor.
Mrs. Palmer cringed at the crack of the birch rod striking the young boy inside and was grateful his self-appointed protector heeded her words and left when he did. She hoped the former headmaster's faith in the boy's mutual commitment was true. It was a heavy burden for a thirteen-year old to bear but bear it he did as he matured beyond his years quickly.
December
Jed Curry clapped his woolen mittens together to dislodge the caked-on snow. He tugged the too-short sleeves of his winter coat down as he picked up the snow shovel stabbed into the pile of snow by his side. His eyes searched the ground floor front widows for the face he sought and smiled when he spotted the surreptitious wave of his best friend from inside the classroom. Jed smiled broadly and waved enthusiastically back. When Han quickly lowered his head, Jed knew Miss Tuchman was coming. He turned back to his assigned task for today.
It was his job to shovel the front outside entrance, stairs and front walkways clear of snow and to keep them clear through the intermittent flurries. It was hard work and Jed was looking forward to dinner when he could finally get warm and stay warm. He walked down the wide brick path pushing the last of the windblown snow from the front walk he cleared earlier and stopped to survey the area for any other places that needed attention.
The wind had suddenly died down, leaving a hushed magical silence. The late afternoon sun shone through the soft gray clouds causing the expansive front lawn to sparkle like it was carpeted with crystals. Jed stood mesmerized. His blue eyes followed the bright golden rays from sky to snow for several minutes.
He dropped the shovel, waded into the undisturbed deep snow along the path, turned around and fell backwards. He swept his arms and legs in wide arcs before carefully sitting up and retracing his steps back to the path. Jed studied the pattern and smiled in satisfaction. After glancing once more at the ethereal sunbeams and the sparkling snow he recreated his pattern a few feet down the path.
The school day was over and it was Han's duty to straighten the classroom at the end of the day. He was returning the readers to shelves by the windows and looked to see if he could still spot Jed. Han looked harder and he pressed his face against the cold glass. Was that Jed making snow angels?
He collected the papers from the around the room and placed them in a neat pile on the teacher's desk in front. He looked out the window again. Jed was still making angels. After all his tasks were completed Han checked the front lawn one last time before he left to attend to his remaining chores.
Jed had made eight angles in one group and a second group of two angels and was now just standing staring at them. Han watched as younger cousin raised a snow-covered mitten to swipe at his cheeks and wipe a sleeve across nose. Han sniffed as he realized the significance of the angels. One by one his eyes rested on an angel as he silently recited the Curry family names Grandpa Curry, Jed's parents, and the Curry Children minus Jed and then the Heyes family names, his parents.
Both boys, one inside and one outside, looked at the patterns in the snow and shared a memory.
Late that night Han awoke and listened to the night sounds. The bunk above him squeaked and he could hear Jed moving above him.
"Han? Han, are you awake?" a soft voice wafted down.
"I'm awake. Is everything okay, Jed?" Han sleepily replied.
"Yeah."
"Did you want something?"
Han heard more movement above him and the curly head of his friend became visible upside down in the moonlight.
"Han, do you believe in angels?"