Then Came Heaven Read Online Free Page B
Author: Lavyrle Spencer
trailed by the bereaved. When the doors of the hearse closed, Mary asked her son-in-law, “Have you told Anne and Lucy yet?”
“Not yet.” The thought started Eddie crying again, dully, and Krystyna’s father clamped an arm around his shoulders.
“Do you want us with you when you do?” Mary asked, since Richard found himself still unable to speak.
“I... I don’t know.”
“We’ll come with you, Eddie,” Irene put in. “You know we’ll come with you if you want.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated with an exhausted sigh, looking around as if the holsteins in the field could provide an answer. “I think...” His gaze went back to Krystyna’s family. “I think it’s s... something I got to do alone. But you’ll come over to the school with me, won’t you? I mean, I don’t know wh... what’s going to happen after. What do we...” He stopped, unversed in the mechanics of death’s aftermath, his mind refusing to function for the moment.
Father Kuzdek stepped in and said, “Come, Eddie. We’ll tell the children together, you and I, and then you and Mary and Richard and Irene can all take them home.”
“Yes,” Eddie agreed, grateful to have someone tell him what to do next. “Yes, thank you, Father.”
The little group dispersed to the various cars, a new dread spreading through them. For they all knew that as difficult as the last hour had been, the next one would be even worse, telling the children.
CHAPTER TWO
Sister Regina rang the brass handbell and waited beside the west door for the children to come in from recess. They came barreling down off the hilly playground and gathered on the narrow sidewalk that connected the schoolhouse with the convent, a stone’s throw away. Double file they lined up, the same obedient ones doing so quickly while the usual troublemakers jostled and aggravated. She waited patiently until all of them were in rank and file before leading the way inside. The hall was narrow and shadowy after the stark sunlight of the playground. Some children detoured to the bathrooms while Sister went on ahead and placed the brass bell on one end of the parapet where it remained while not in use—and woe to the student who touched it without permission! She waited beside the drinking fountain outside her room, her hands hidden inside her sleeves, monitoring their return to classes.
St. Joseph’s Parochial School was laid out symmetrically, with three rooms on either side of a central gymnasium, divided from it by a thick parapet topped with square columns that created a hall on either side. Each hall had two classrooms holding two grades apiece. At the northwest comer was the lunchroom; at the southwest comer theflower room, where the nuns raised plants for the altar.
At the east end the gym gave onto a storage room with a full bank of windows, but the folding doors were usually kept closed so the gymnasium remained gloomy. At the opposite end was a stage with an ancient canvas curtain sporting a tableau of a Venetian canal and gondolas rendered by some long-ago artist in the dull, monochromatic hues of rutabagas. Countless piano recitals had been held on that stage, for musical training was so vital a part of the curriculum at St. Joseph’s that the gymnasium had been named Paderewski Hall, in honor of Poland’s most famous composer.
That afternoon, as the third- and fourth-graders finished up in the bathroom, Paderewski Hall was dusky, as usual, the stage curtain lowered, the fold-aside storeroom doors closing off the rich east light from the gym.
Sister Regina held her classroom door open for the last straggler who tested her patience by continuing to guzzle water at the hall fountain.
“That’s enough, Michael. Come along.”
He took three more gulps, then swiped his face with the back of a hand as she swept him inside her room with the closing door.
She clapped her hands twice, then left them folded. “All right, boys and girls, let’s stand
“Not yet.” The thought started Eddie crying again, dully, and Krystyna’s father clamped an arm around his shoulders.
“Do you want us with you when you do?” Mary asked, since Richard found himself still unable to speak.
“I... I don’t know.”
“We’ll come with you, Eddie,” Irene put in. “You know we’ll come with you if you want.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated with an exhausted sigh, looking around as if the holsteins in the field could provide an answer. “I think...” His gaze went back to Krystyna’s family. “I think it’s s... something I got to do alone. But you’ll come over to the school with me, won’t you? I mean, I don’t know wh... what’s going to happen after. What do we...” He stopped, unversed in the mechanics of death’s aftermath, his mind refusing to function for the moment.
Father Kuzdek stepped in and said, “Come, Eddie. We’ll tell the children together, you and I, and then you and Mary and Richard and Irene can all take them home.”
“Yes,” Eddie agreed, grateful to have someone tell him what to do next. “Yes, thank you, Father.”
The little group dispersed to the various cars, a new dread spreading through them. For they all knew that as difficult as the last hour had been, the next one would be even worse, telling the children.
CHAPTER TWO
Sister Regina rang the brass handbell and waited beside the west door for the children to come in from recess. They came barreling down off the hilly playground and gathered on the narrow sidewalk that connected the schoolhouse with the convent, a stone’s throw away. Double file they lined up, the same obedient ones doing so quickly while the usual troublemakers jostled and aggravated. She waited patiently until all of them were in rank and file before leading the way inside. The hall was narrow and shadowy after the stark sunlight of the playground. Some children detoured to the bathrooms while Sister went on ahead and placed the brass bell on one end of the parapet where it remained while not in use—and woe to the student who touched it without permission! She waited beside the drinking fountain outside her room, her hands hidden inside her sleeves, monitoring their return to classes.
St. Joseph’s Parochial School was laid out symmetrically, with three rooms on either side of a central gymnasium, divided from it by a thick parapet topped with square columns that created a hall on either side. Each hall had two classrooms holding two grades apiece. At the northwest comer was the lunchroom; at the southwest comer theflower room, where the nuns raised plants for the altar.
At the east end the gym gave onto a storage room with a full bank of windows, but the folding doors were usually kept closed so the gymnasium remained gloomy. At the opposite end was a stage with an ancient canvas curtain sporting a tableau of a Venetian canal and gondolas rendered by some long-ago artist in the dull, monochromatic hues of rutabagas. Countless piano recitals had been held on that stage, for musical training was so vital a part of the curriculum at St. Joseph’s that the gymnasium had been named Paderewski Hall, in honor of Poland’s most famous composer.
That afternoon, as the third- and fourth-graders finished up in the bathroom, Paderewski Hall was dusky, as usual, the stage curtain lowered, the fold-aside storeroom doors closing off the rich east light from the gym.
Sister Regina held her classroom door open for the last straggler who tested her patience by continuing to guzzle water at the hall fountain.
“That’s enough, Michael. Come along.”
He took three more gulps, then swiped his face with the back of a hand as she swept him inside her room with the closing door.
She clapped her hands twice, then left them folded. “All right, boys and girls, let’s stand