Chapter 111: Family Blessings

Tuesday, July 2, 1985

We were up around eight, had breakfast at nine, and were on the road by ten. Our first stop was one we’d made on every trip and most likely always would. I knew the route by heart by this time and would make a point of returning.

Conversation stopped, nearly entirely, as we entered the cemetery. We parked near the gravestones, then walked over to stand with Dad’s father and Uncle Frank. Or, at least, their mortal remains, but I always felt something when I came here.

That might just be me, but it really didn’t matter. Aside from Angie, Laura, and me, there was little proof of deceased people touching the world of the living (and we obviously weren’t ‘deceased’). They might — some of the anecdotal stories of ghosts and reincarnation were pretty compelling — but there was no hard evidence.

The feeling was what mattered. Dad felt the presence of his father, gone from the world more than thirty-five years at this point, and his brother as well. Angie felt the presence of her father, too — a man she’d lost twice, both times traumatically.

It wasn’t lost on any of us that both of these deaths were necessary in order for this moment to happen. Had Dad’s father lived, he would never have met Mom. Someone else would have adopted me, and someone else would have adopted Angie when she needed that. Had Frank lived, Angie would merely have been my cute (and, perhaps, troubled) cousin in Chicago.

It’s too easy to say ‘When one door closes, another opens.’ But, as with almost every cliché, there’s more than a grain of truth there. A life is, in one view, nothing but an endless succession of paths not taken, often because events force a different route.

We were here, and we remembered. Perhaps they were here, too, and knew we remembered them. If so, I believed with all of my heart that my uncle Frank and my grandfather Alton would be proud of the people we’d become and the family we’d made.

As Professor Berman might have said (and, indeed, had said before): ‘May their memory be a blessing.’ They were, to all of us.

We drove over to the retirement home next. Conversations picked up once we left the cemetery, and we filled the short drive with stories about the men we’d just visited. Both had left giant holes in Grandmother’s heart. Professor Berman had, in some ways, filled one of those holes, though (in my view) it was more like he’d built a new hill next to the hole Alton had left. Angie’s successes, and perhaps Paige, had done the same next to Frank’s hole.

That second was important. I strongly suspected Professor Berman had been dead by now in my first life, and I suspected Grandmother had been further in decline by now than she was in this universe. The two of them (as with all couples, I think, or at least all successful couples) were symbiotic. What buoyed up one of them supported the other, too.

Most likely, things would change soon and suddenly. From what I’d heard, as well as what I’d already assumed (and as compared to my first life) Professor Berman was ‘on borrowed time.’ Grandmother wasn’t — I was certain she’d passed away in 1988 — but his death would be a blow.

All of this became more real to me as we entered Grandmother and Professor Berman’s apartment. Grandmother felt a bit more withered to me. She seemed shorter, more hunched over, and just tired. Meanwhile, Professor Berman was moving slowly and using a cane. There was a walker handy, and I wasn’t sure which of them used it. Maybe both of them did.

Still, they were alert and happy to see us.

Both of them greeted me first, which made sense since they’d already seen the others. I gave Grandmother a very careful hug and shook Professor Berman’s hand. Once we’d settled in their living room (which put all of us teenagers on the floor), I gave them a brief account of my trip.

It seemed clear to me that Professor Berman wanted to see the movie, while Grandmother could take it or leave it. That was what I’d expected. Still, they were happy our friend had been in the movie.

After a bit, Grandmother rose, saying, “If everyone else would excuse us for a bit, I have something I would like to discuss with Steve and Angie.”

That, in itself, was a change. We would have been ‘Steven’ and ‘Angela’ not long ago. I couldn’t quite decide whether it was a good thing (Grandmother using our preferred version of our names) or a bad thing (Grandmother letting formality, which had been a major fixation of her life, start to slip), but it was clearly a difference.

Ang and I got up and followed her back into her bedroom.

Once we’d gotten in there, Grandmother closed the door, then said, “Sit! Sit!”

We sat on the bed.

Grandmother opened a drawer and picked up two ring boxes.

She turned to us, smiled, and then came over, sitting near us.

“These...” she said, “These rings have been in our family for many, many years. It has been traditional to pass them along, and I wish to do so now.”

We both nodded.

Angie said, “Thank you, Grandmother.”

I said, “Yes, thank you.”

She smiled again, and said, “You would have received them anyway, but ... well. Allan has reminded me several times that you may have a use for them while I am still alive. I had not expected that, to be honest! Most people are getting married older and older these days, which I generally think is not a bad thing at all. Many people get married too young! Not my Sam, of course! But, in your case ... my goodness! You have been together with your sweethearts so long now, I know, and so successfully.”

We both smiled.

Grandmother said, “I suppose I should say, because I haven’t said so clearly: it is not my place to tell you what to do, but I approve of the choices you’ve made.”

Angie blushed a bit at that. I might have, too.

Grandmother said, “Allan and I have spoken about it quite a bit. We both very much like Paige and Jasmine. Your bringing them to visit sent a message, one we heard.”

Angie started to speak, but Grandmother waved her hand.

“I must ask, Angie,” she said. “It is Allan’s belief that you will be the one to propose.”

Angie nodded, and said, “Paige and I discussed that. She could, and I would say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat, but we agreed one of us should be the one to do it, and we decided I would be.”

“Will you wear an engagement ring?” she said.

Angie hesitated, then nodded.

“I will, but we’ll figure that out when the time comes.”

Grandmother nodded and said, “I have half of an answer for you, perhaps. We will come to that later. Would you mind if I discuss it with Paige?”

“Not at all!” Angie said. “That would be wonderful.”

“To continue what I was saying,” she said, “I — and, I believe, the ladies who have worn these rings before — will be proud to see them on the fingers of Paige and Jasmine. I do not say this lightly...” she said.

Then she sighed.

“Long ago,” she said, “I drove off a son by insisting things be done my way without giving his way a fair hearing. That was a mistake, one I greatly regret. However, if I thought either of you were making a mistake, I would say so. Little differences can be fixed with love and trust. Alton and I didn’t see everything the same, and neither do Allan and I. That makes for an interesting marriage. But big differences cannot. If I had a concern, I would speak. Instead, to my surprise, and my great happiness, I have nothing but joy in my heart over the wonderful women you’ve found.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said.

“Thank you very much,” Angie said. She was a little choked up, which didn’t surprise me at all.

“After Alton passed away, I thought I might never love again. He was a great man, and I wish you had been able to meet him. But, after a time, I met Allan Berman. He is also a great man. At the time, friends of mine had issues with him over religion. It seems quaint now, I suspect, but — at the time — it was ... contentious. I knew Allan was the man for me, though, and he has been.”

She shifted a little, then added, “I would like to speak with each of you privately after this, for just a few minutes.”

“Yes, please, Grandmother,” Angie said.

“I would like that,” I said.

“Good! Now, let me show you,” she said, chuckling just a bit. “Angie, you get to choose.”

Angie nodded.

“Before I show you them, I should tell you,” Grandmother said, “Both of these rings will need to be remade. And, to be very clear: it will not offend me, nor break family tradition, if you change things. They have been changed before. They will change again.”

We both nodded, and Angie said, “Thank you, Grandmother.”

I said, “Yes, thank you.”

As she picked up the first box, I was preparing myself to see a familiar ring. It had been a long time, but not that long.

She opened it, revealing a very nice gold ring with a large diamond and several smaller ones. It was definitely not the ring I was thinking of.

“This was Alton’s mother’s ring. Her name was Abigail,” she said. “Now, look here, see...”

She took the ring out.

“It is too worn here for anyone to use it regularly.”

We both nodded. The band was continuous, but it was very thin at one point. It would be easy to snap.

She put it back, set it aside, and picked up the second box.

When she opened it, I let out a breath. It wasn’t the ring I’d been picturing at all, either. This one was similar to the first, but with a slightly smaller center stone, two medium-sized stones, and several much smaller ones.

“This was my mother’s ring. Her name was Clara,” she said. “Like the first, it’s worn, and it’s missing one small stone here.”

She pointed. It really wasn’t obvious until you looked.

“These have been in our safe deposit box,” she said. “I don’t trust the staff here. Things have gone missing! I had these checked, and they’re entirely genuine.”

“They’re both so beautiful!” Angie said.

Grandmother chuckled.

“I considered offering you my ring. I seldom wear it anymore because it is also not in the best condition. But Allan and I agreed: it can go to one of Robert’s kids, along with his mother’s ring, if and when they both get married. Neither of them is even dating anyone seriously right now.”

She opened a drawer and took out a ring. It was the ring, the ring I’d given my ex-wife. We’d remade it, but here was the original.

Angie said, “It’s lovely.”

“It is,” she said, chuckling, “But it too is out of style. We remade it to be new and fashionable when Allan gave it to me, but no one wears rings like this now.”

She put it away.

Angie looked at both, looked at me a couple of times, and then picked the first ring.

“I like them both, but it formerly belonging to an Abigail makes it easy. I’ll take this one, unless Steve really cares, in which case I’ll happily swap.”

“They’re both lovely. This one is great,” I said, taking the other one.