Closing a Circle
"Elena? You have visitors, dear."
The caretaker stepped aside to let the two young women pass. "I'm not sure how lucid she will be, she spends much of her waking time in contemplation. Please let me know when you leave."
Elena Stahlmann was a small, frail woman. Katz had been correct; there were names in the real estate file that had led them to her bedside. She had been at first cared for, then adopted and raised by a childless couple that had worked for her birthparents when she was born, soon after everything had come apart for the little infant girl. Elena's mother had a difficult childbirth, and had died two days after. Her father, overcome by grief and newly penniless, died of heart failure weeks later.
She had married, many long years ago, and had never had children of her own. Her husband, a gentle man, had passed some time ago, and had provided and planned well for Elena. She was looked after, although it had been years since she had seen any visitors aside from the care staff and the occasional polite passing interaction.
She had, of course, heard her own story from her adoptive parents, but it was quite another thing to hold proof of her birthmother's existence in her own hands.
The taller, black-haired woman named Jane reached over and gently removed the plastic plate that held the photo, and handed it to her.
A smile crossed Elena's face. A passing, half smile.
"She is as I have seen her in dreams."
The other woman, Daria, looked down at something that she held in her lap. After a moment, her gaze had come to rest on the small plastic frame on the bedside table. It held a sheet of paper, on which had been handwritten a few lines.
When I awaken, it will be to hold you in my arms
I will be a stranger to you, but your heart will know.
Dust in the air will stir to dance forever
After eyes close, too weary to follow the wonder.
Stay until the morning sun comes once again
So you can know that I never left you all alone.
Elena watched the young woman's face as she read. She was a delicate, pretty woman. Her husband had thought the same of her when she was young, like this Daria, so many years ago.
Daria's hands trembled almost imperceptibly as she produced a small Asian brocade bag. "Your mother wanted you to have these, to make sure that you were provided for." She opened the bag, and unfolded a square of fabric upon which she laid out a collection of jewelry. She had lovely, slender fingers.
All of the pieces were beautiful, but Elena reached out and picked up a simple plain wedding band. She looked at it for a long time before slipping it on, next to her own.
Daria silently passed her a yellowed slip of paper.
Reading it, Elena felt her tears roll down her face.
After a long time, she gave the slip back without comment; the sensitive young woman understood. She picked up the frame and opened it. Elena passed her the small photograph as well. She watched Daria's face as she arranged them, and then closed the frame back up. She put it back on the bedside table, and turned it so that Elena could see it.
The women spoke quietly for almost an hour. Elena was glad that the flat her biological parents had lived in had survived intact, and that the odd series of events had brought them together. It pleased Elena to know that these two young women were happy living there. They were good people, to have come to her like this.
"Elena," asked Daria, "Do you have someone handling your business needs? This jewelry is valuable and needs to be secured properly."
"I have a lawyer, who sees that my trust is well managed; but I won't trouble him with this. I only wish to keep her wedding band," she smiled, holding her hand up. "Take them, I don't need them anymore; you two have your long lives ahead of you."
The two women exchanged glances. They were close; they could speak to each other without words. "No," said Jane firmly, "your mother gave these to you because she loved you and this was the only way she felt she could care for you. You need to respect that."
"Her intent was clear." Elena held up her hand. "This was the only thing I ever wished I had of hers, and now I have it. This encircled all that she loved. I truly have what I need, my dears, what would I do with more?"
Jane turned away, tears forming in her eyes. Daria stood by, ready to support her friend.
"I have no heirs, everyone that I have loved has gone before me," Elena said quietly. "For whatever reasons you may have had, you've brought me a great gift. You've closed a hole in my heart that I have tried to forget, by showing me that it was never there at all. You have brought me peace, and I can never thank you two enough."
Three weeks after the visit with Elena, Jane had completed her project.
The tilt of the hips suggested by the curious curve in the abdomen became clear after Jane had attached the left arm. The lower extremities and the right arm had to be rendered in new plaster, but it was clear to the artist what the original intent had been.
The head, as well as the bundled form of an infant, had been found amid the jumble of parts. She had assembled it on a heavy wood structure with hidden wheels, so she could move it as needed.
Elena's Angel depicted her mother, laying on her side, left arm outstretched and her head resting on it. A newborn Elena was pressed to her breast, the right arm protecting it; the figure's face bent close to the infant's head.
She photographed it carefully, and brought the images to Elena so she could see it. The old woman's tears of joy had made it all worthwhile.
