A Song in the Daylight by Paullina Simons
She dreamed she lost them and she kept opening and closing her cupboards, opening and closing her drawers, walking into people’s houses, then walking out, looking in cars, in bars, in woods and bushes. She just kept wandering, her hands opening, closing things. What are you looking for, Father Emilio once asked. My children, she replied. I seem to have misplaced them. I put them somewhere and can’t remember where.
5
Jared Stark
“What is she doing?” Larissa asked Father Emilio one afternoon.
“Why is she always sitting apart? Here, or outside on the steps. Why doesn’t she go play with other kids?”
“She does. She plays all the time.”
“She always comes back here.”
“Yes. During her moments of solitude, she does. She is waiting.”
“Solitude? She is five. Waiting for what?”
“We all need to sit and think in the silence. The child sits and waits for her mother to come back.”
“Oh my God!” Larissa stared at Nalini on the bench playing with sticks. “Is that what she’s doing?”
“Of course. What did you think she was doing?”
The rains didn’t come every day now. It was still warm and humid but without the torrents.
“I don’t know. Just sitting?” Lowering her voice to almost a whisper, Larissa said, “Do you think it’s feasible? I mean, you don’t think it would be better for Nalini to know the truth?”
“I tried telling her the truth.” Father Emilio smiled ruefully. “But Nalini sees it differently. She tells me her mother often comes to her in dreams, and vows to return to her as soon as she is able.”
“Oh, Father,” Larissa said, “why do you let her believe this nonsense? I don’t think it’s kind. You should disabuse her of the notion.”
“Why would I? I don’t know for sure Che won’t come back. She might.”
“Come on now. If she’s not back already…”
“She could be in prison.”
“She would’ve written,” said Larissa. “Che was the best letter writer.” Unlike the horse rider from Pooncarie. “And you know how she felt about having a child. If she were in prison, or alive, she would’ve written her daughter.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”
“So you agree with me, Father. Talk to her. Honestly, it’s not good for her to do this. It’s not healthy.”
“Well,” Father Emilio drew out, “you may be right.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Except for one example that makes me want to give the benefit of the doubt to Nalini.” He tapped Larissa’s arm. “You.”
“Me? What do I have to do with Nalini?”
“You’re not dead,” said Father Emilio. “You’re not even in prison. And yet you have not written to your children.”
There was that sensation again, of precipitous calamitous falling, the stomach dropping out. “That’s different. I’m different. I don’t know what to say to them…you’re comparing two totally separate situations, there’s no comparison, two totally…I don’t even know—”
“I agree with you,” he interrupted her stammerings. “I would prefer if Nalini had someone to take care of her. But I can’t get an adoption placement for her without the mother’s death certificate, which I don’t have. She certainly does need someone, though.” They both gazed at the little girl. “She is such a vulnerable child. Then, of course,” he added, “are all children.”
“I still don’t understand where Che could’ve gotten the money for bail from,” said Larissa. “She was always penniless and frantic. I mean, it’s inconceivable that Lorenzo could’ve made bail. Did he sell his kidney or something?”
Father Emilio said nothing, but his gaze lifted from Nalini across the yard to Larissa next to him. “Do you really want to know how Lorenzo made bail?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
He stood up. “Come with me. Nalini, we’ll be right back,” he called out to the girl. “Stay where you are.”
“Okay, Papa.” She got up from her bench and followed them inside.
He sighed. “Sit outside, okay? I have to talk to Larissa in private.”
“Okay, Papa.” She slid down onto the floor, the two sticks in her hands prancing, all saddled up, as if in dressage.
In the rectory, with the door closed, Father Emilio turned to Larissa. “Your husband was the one who sent Che the money for Lorenzo’s bail.”
“What?”
“Yes. He sent the money, care of this church, for Lorenzo’s bail.”
“That’s impossible!” Her hand flew up to steady her thumping heart. “He didn’t know anything—he knew nothing about Che’s—when did he do this?”
“Five years ago.”
A stunned Larissa collapsed against the chair. She found this inconceivable and wrong, the connection between that world and this one, like a seance gone awry. She thought she was a ghost, and suddenly Jared’s material presence made itself known, and with his presence the presence of the other thing, the thing that constantly made her feel like she was plunging from the skies.
“You want to see what else he sent?”
“Father!” she cried, putting out her hand to stop him. She was terrified he was about to fling at her the painted hands of her children, their painted feet, with helpless words scrawled in their unformed handwriting. Mommy, where are you? I miss you. There were some things Larissa could not endure. This was one of them. “Please…have mercy…no.” She could take anything but a physical reminder of them.
From a safe behind his wood desk, Father Emilio pulled out a white business envelope and handed it to Larissa.
“I will not look at photographs,” she said, her voice hoarse and low.
“Don’t worry, no photographs. Look inside.”
In the envelope was a stack of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. “Money?”
“There’s four thousand dollars in there,” Father Emilio said, “marked for Che and the child, with your Summit, New Jersey address and your phone number. Che had asked for a plane ticket to come stay with you. Jared sent her a note explaining your silence and your absence, but he did send her the money for the tickets.” The priest pointed to the envelope in Larissa’s hands. “The note is in there if you want to read it.”
I’m not sure I do, Larissa mouthed inaudibly. I’m not sure I can. I’m pretty sure I can’t. I’m certain I don’t.
After sitting in the chair a while, almost hoping to be stung by a mosquito and get dengue fever—bonecrushing pain, fever, rash, seeping hemorrhage—for she imagined it to be better than this, Larissa opened the folded piece of paper. In Jared crisp firm block letter handwriting, the note read,
Che, Larissa is gone. Without a note or a goodbye she’s left us; left me for someone else, and unfortunately I fear she’s left us for good. The money I’m sending you is from the sale of her car, which she clearly no longer needs. I’m sure she’d want you to have it. Please don’t sell your kidney, Che, even though I know a wonderful woman who could really use it. You need both your kidneys. After all, you now have a baby to take care of. You’re welcome to come and stay with us any time you want. You’re always welcome, and I sincerely mean that. I enclose cash for you and the baby for two first-class tickets.
Jared
PS. If by chance you see her, tell her that no matter what, she is still and will always be the mother of my children.
Her throat constricting, her fingers trembling, Larissa carefully put the note back in the envelope. She was right. Breakbone fever would’ve been preferable.
“The money is still here,” she said dully. Four thousand dollars—in cash!
“Of course it’s here. Che hasn’t come back.”
Larissa looked out the screened window into the front yard. Three small boys were playing soccer in the street. It was busy in late afternoon, teeming, women carrying shopping, men coming back from work, children returning from school or sports. Y
“Nalini dreams of going to America,” Father Emilio said. “She is convinced when her mother returns, they will go and live in the place the ever-loving nuns keep telling her about. The place with snow.”
“Does she know what snow is?”
“No. I tell her it’s white and cold, but she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t even understand what cold is. It doesn’t get below seventy here on the equator.”
Larissa held on tightly to the money in the envelope. “But you and I know Che is not coming back. She could’ve been released long ago and died in Mindanao forests on her way here. We will never know.” She paused. “Please don’t look at me like that, Father. We already talked about this. Che is not me.”
“You are alive. You remain.”
“Yes.”
“Larissa,” Father Emilio said, stretching out his hand to her. “There’s money in your hands for two tickets back to the United States.”
“Yes.”
“Go back home.”
She jumped up.
He jumped up, too, grabbing hold of her arms. “Go back home,” he repeated imploringly. “And take the little girl with you.”
“Please let go of me—please…”
“Your husband owes nothing to Che or her daughter, yet he sent them money, to change their life, to help them. That’s the kind of man he is. He owed them nothing, yet he helped them. Don’t you think he would do even more for you?”
“No! He will kill me.”
Father Emilio shook his head. “A man who sends fifty thousand dollars in bail money to the Philippines to help the wayward rebel boyfriend of his wife’s childhood friend, is not the man who will do that. He will help you.”
“Please,” Larissa whispered. “Let go of my hands…”
Father Emilio let go.
“There’s no bringing it back. There is no reliving it.” She put her hands over her face. “Who would take me back now?”
“Your husband would. Nalini adores you, Larissa. And she desperately needs you. She shouldn’t live in an orphanage.”
“They love her here.”
“She needs a proper home, you know that.”
“Father…Che could come back any minute. And Nalini won’t leave without her mother.”
“You just said for the tenth time you were certain Che wasn’t alive. And Nalini will leave with you in a second. To America? To Nutella? In a second.”
Larissa vehemently shook her head.
“Don’t you know how much she wants to be with you?” Father Emilio continued intensely. “She follows you around because she is afraid you will leave her, too.”
Larissa shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please.”
“And if Che comes back,” Father Emilio went on with rapid-fire passion, “I will make sure she gets to you and Nalini, wherever you are.”
“There won’t be any money left.”
“You have my word,” said Father Emilio, “Che will get to America.” He beseeched her with his steady gaze, blinking compassion at her, kindness.
“Jared will never forgive me,” Larissa said, casting her eyes away.
“He will. Didn’t you read his letter?”
“Father, I’ve done an unforgivable thing…”
“There is no such thing.”
“What are you talking about? Of course there is.”
“There is no such thing,” Father Emilio said firmly. “You think you’re above God’s forgiveness? That’s what Judas thought. No one is above it.”
“I’m above Jared’s.”
He raised his questioning shoulders. “I’m not saying your marriage is intact. I’m not even saying that your husband is in the same place. You wouldn’t want him to grieve for you all these years, would you? You wouldn’t want your family to suffer? You’d prefer they moved on, found relief, am I right?”
“Of course.”
“In the context of that new life, the man who sent fifty thousand dollars to a stranger will not turn away the mother of his children. Married people are bound by Divine law forever.”
Haltingly Larissa breathed. “How can I be forgiven?” She whispered.
“You have to want it, you have to ask for it, repentance is first. But how can you be not forgiven? If Jared forgives only what is forgivable, what kind of forgiveness is that? Excuse me, but that’s not forgiveness, that’s justice. And you will not be judged till the end of your days. So you have some time. Forgiveness is precisely forgiving the unforgivable.”
Larissa shook her head; she wanted to put her hands up, cover her ears from the terror.
“I know you’re disheartened. I see you every day. I’ve spent much time with you, watching the tides of your sorrow,” said Father Emilio, his hands on Larissa’s shoulders. “But, Larissa, catch sight of yourself, catch sight of your brave and strong soul, of your need for regeneration! You’re not doomed, you’re blessed! God takes hold of your heart and He gives you a new heart. Open your eyes and see grace everywhere, inside you and outside you. It’s solace you seek, and comfort. Remember what Nalini said. Are the consolations of God small with thee? No, very great. You are a child of God. You have a soul, that holy of holies, which is your true value. You are to live forever.”
“You’re frightening me much more than you intend, Father,” said Larissa, clenching her hands against her chest, her blood pounding in her face, her legs clammy.
“You are the essential missing piece in the swirling center of your own life, you are the integral element!” Father Emilio exclaimed. “It won’t come to you. You must enter into your own salvation. But grace always flows into the emptied soul that’s crying out to be delivered. Grace is waiting for you. I know it. All you have to do is say yes.”
Barely able to move her lips, Larissa whispered, “Can I think about saying yes?”
“Promise me you will?”
“I promise you I will.”
“Listen to me,” said the priest, “I know that your time here is running out. Your ticket is coming up. Now your husband has offered you another way, rather than back to Australia, where things may be at a dead end. But even if you don’t take his offering, you have another way. You’re loved here. The nuns, the children deeply care for you, your bread pudding and your plays and your hopscotch. You have become a vital indispensable part of our small community. You bring a smile to everyone,” Father Emilio said, “even when you are moping.” He smiled lightly. “I won’t even talk about what you mean to Nalini. Because you know. You’ve made our lives better by your presence here with us, Larissa. As I suspect you had in your American life.”
She bowed her head. “Perhaps. You’ve given me so much to think about, Father. I promise I will think about everything. I’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so,” said Father Emilio.
A week went by.
“Father,” said Larissa, coming into the rectory. She used her dramatic training to still her hands so they didn’t fidget on her lap. “I’ve thought very carefully about what you said. You’re completely right. Of course, I will do as you suggest. I will go back to New Jersey. It’s a good idea. And Nalini, I know, will be happy to visit with me, even if we don’t stay for long, because truthfully, I really like it here in Moonwalk with you and the children and the nuns. I feel comfortable here, Father. So. I want to take her with me, and would like to take her, and will, as you suggest.”
Father Emilio sat. He didn’t speak.
“But here’s the thing.” Larissa cleared her throat, smiled her big toothy smile, her blinking eyes on his motionless face. “Kai will be waiting for me in Sydney tomorrow. He is picking me up. I know things have been odd with us, stressful, and he hasn’t written often, and we haven’t spoken, but that’s because he’s been working so hard, earning money for us, and with the t
Father Emilio sat. He said nothing.
“It’s wrong to just skip out, leave someone standing in the middle of the airport, in the lurch like that, waiting. You know, Father?” Swallowing, Larissa continued quickly. “Here’s another thing, though…I’ve been with you for three months, working, completely voluntarily, of course, but as you know, I’m a little bit broke, and so I was wondering, about Jared’s money…you know, Nalini and I don’t need to fly first class, and Jared left enough money for first-class, which we really don’t need, we’ll be fine flying coach, Qantas gives you lots of leg room now and DVDs with your flight, and good meals, we’ll be fine in coach, so I was wondering if I could take a little bit of my husband’s cash, because Kai and I have some debts on the other side that haven’t been paid, and I just want to make sure I have all my pegs in a row, and nothing outstanding. I don’t want to leave indebted to anyone, you know? Because that would be wrong. So…do you think I could take, um, a few hundred dollars?”