Maggie's Companion

Maggie's Companion

2013

         Angela Freeman was sitting on the toilet seat, wrapped in a towel, her feet dangling in front of the bowel, not quite touching the floor. "Mom, are we going to say our prayers tonight?"

         "That's a silly question. We always say prayers at night. Why would you ask me that?" Her mother sat on the edge of the bathtub, briskly rubbing her daughter's hair with a towel.

         "Take it easy mom; you're rubbing my hair loose!" She reached over and grabbed a hair brush from the sink top, then handed it to her mother. "What about the angel prayer; why do we say that one if angels aren't real?"

         "Who told you that angels aren't real?" her mother asked as she began running the brush through Angela's still-wet hair.

         The little girl's head jerked to the side with each stroke of the brush. "Evan, at school, said they're just make believe. Ow!"

         "I'm sorry. You know, if you brushed your hair more often it wouldn't get so tangled. Did Evan tell you where he heard that?"

         "He said his dad told him that ancient people made angels up to explain their world. Is that true?"

         Angela's mom stopped brushing and looked intently at her daughter. "No; it's not true. What if I told you that I knew someone who could see and talk to angels?"

         "Who? Tell me!" said Angela.

         "I thought you wanted to watch your show."

         "I'd rather hear the story."

         "Alright; go get your pajamas on and climb in bed. I'll be there after I straighten up this bathroom."

         Her mother went into Angela's bedroom and sat on the edge of her daughter's bed. "Are you ready?"

         "Yes." Angela answered excitedly.

         "Alright. Well, I guess the story begins almost eighty years ago, when my grandmother was about your age. Her name was Margaret O'Conner, but everyone called her Maggie. She was born in 1925 and grew up during The Great Depression."

         "What's that?" asked Angela.

         "It was a time when a lot of people didn't have jobs or very much money. Anyway, her father had died about six months earlier, so Maggie's mom tried to get whatever work she could. Maggie's grandmother came to live with them to help take care of the children and the house......"

* * * * * *

1932

         "Mother; there's smoke in my room!" yelled Maggie.

         Maggie's mother bounded from her bed and hurried, in the darkness, across the hallway, to Maggie's bedroom. She paused in the doorway just long enough to turn on the light switch. The room became illuminated by the single bulb which hung from the center of the ceiling. "Where?" was all she could manage as her eyes scanned the entirety of the small room.

         "It was right there behind you."

         Her mother looked back at the doorway where her own mother now stood. She sniffed the air, and then said, "I don't smell any smoke; you must have dreamed it."

         Maggie's grandmother put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Go back to bed dear. You have to get up in a few hours; I'll stay with her."

         "Scoot over child, make room for grandma."

         Maggie pulled back the blanket and moved against the wall. "I really did see smoke; I'm not lying."

         "I believe you sweetheart; let's both get some sleep."

         A few minutes later, Maggie whispered in her grandmother's ear. "Grandma, it's back."

         "Tell me what you see."

         "It's tall and thin and looks like smoke or fog."

         "Let's say the angel prayer." her grandmother whispered back.

"Angel of God, My Guardian Dear
To Whom His Love Commits Me Hear
Ever This Night Be At My Side
To Light And Guard
To Rule And Guide
Amen"

         The next morning, Maggie sat at the small kitchen table watching her grandmother flip open the sides of the toaster to turn the bread. "Grandma, what was it that I saw last night? I've seen it before, but I don't know what it is."

         "I can't be certain, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's your guardian angel. That might explain why only you can see it."

         "Are you teasing me? Angels are supposed to be in heaven."

         "Angels aren't just in heaven; they're everywhere. There are angels here with us now."

         Maggie looked around the small kitchen. "I don't see any."

         "Well, we can't see angels because they're spiritual creatures. At least most of us can't," grandma said. She finished spreading jam on the toast, added a soft boiled egg to the plate and placed it on the table in front of Maggie. Then she pulled out her own chair and sat down. "God made angels long before He ever created the earth. They are millions of years old and have supernatural strength and intelligence. When God created people, He loved us so much that He gave each of us our own angel to watch over and guide us."

         "Can they hear us; I mean can we talk to them?"

         "You not only can, but you should. You can tell your angel anything and it will hear you."

         "I'm going to try it." She paused, then said, "Would you like some toast?"

         "No, thank you sweetheart; I've eaten."

         "I know grandma. I was talking to the angel. There's one behind you."

* * * * * *

2013

         "It was an angel, wasn't it mom?" asked Angela.

         "I'll get to that. Seven years later, Maggie's mother passed away from breast cancer. The girl was heart broken, but she still had her grandmother.
Times were hard for the two of them. Maggie's grandmother had very little money and didn't want Maggie to drop out of school, so she decided to take in a boarder."

         "What's a boarder?" asked Angela.

         "It's someone who pays money for a room and meals," her mother answered.

         "Like a room mate."

         "Something like that. Her name was Jean Grant and she was eighteen; just four years older than Maggie. Jean was a remarkable girl; first of all because she was an African American living with two white women, and second, because she was attending college."

         "That doesn't seem very markable," said Angela.

         "Remarkable. Well, in the 1930s it was almost unheard of. Back then, they were called negro or colored and there were a lot of places in our country were they couldn't use the same restaurants, bathrooms or even drinking fountains as white people, but Maggie's grandmother didn't care at all about the color of Jean's skin."

         "I like Maggie's grandma," Angela smiled.

* * * * * *

1939

         "I'll need all twenty dollars on the first of each month. Breakfast and supper are included." said the old woman. My grand daughter Maggie will room with me; you'll have the spare room. No gentlemen visitors and no gin, agreed?"

         "Yes ma'am," replied Jean.

         "Maggie, this is Miss Jean Grant. She's going to be staying with us for a while. Please take her bags to your old room and help her settle in."

         "Oh, I can manage," said Jean.

         "Nonsense; your a guest in our house and you'll be treated as such."

         "I hope you'll be comfortable here," said Maggie, as she set the suitcases on the floor.

         "I'm sure I will, it's lovely." replied Jean.


         A few weeks later, Jean came home from school and walked into the kitchen to find Maggie standing by the sink, talking to herself. "I'm doing the best that I can," said Maggie. "I just don't understand algebra; what am I supposed to do?"

         "Hello?" interrupted Jean. "Excuse me; I just came in for a drink of water."

         "Oh dear," exclaimed Maggie, blushing. "You discovered my secret."

         "You're not good at math?"

         Maggie smiled, "No; that I talk to my angel."

         "Oh, well, that's not so terrible. There are worse things you could do. Does it ever talk back to you?"

         "Sadly no, but I know it can hear me."

         "How do you know that it hears you?" asked Jean.

         "It may sound strange and it's difficult to explain, but I can feel my angel."

         "It doesn't sound strange to me. I think it's beautiful."

         Maggie hugged Jean tightly. "I'm so glad you're staying here. I think you and I are going to be best friends."

         Jean smiled broadly. "I'm certain of it.

* * * * * *

2013

         "Did they become best friends?" asked a yawning Angela.

         "They sure did. In fact, they were more like sisters than friends. I think someone's falling asleep. We'd better finish our story tomorrow night."

         "Aw mom. I'm not even tired. Besides, we don't have school tomorrow. Pleeease can we finish it tonight?"

         "Alright, but I'm going to have to shorten part of it. Maggie and Jean became inseparable, even after Maggie got married and had children. Whenever there was a birthday or holiday party, Maggie made certain that Jean was involved."

         "Did she ever come to one of your parties?"

         "Oh yes; I remember Jean being there for all of my birthdays. She was a part of our family. So much so, that after my mom and uncle Bruce grew up and had families of their own and after my grandfather died, grandma was alone in the house, so she invited Jean to move in with her. Maggie missed grandpa Tom very much, but having Jean living with her made her feel a lot better."

* * * * * *

2005

         Maggy crossed herself with her right hand, then rose from her knees and turned down the comforter on her bed. "And if you wouldn't mind, I could use a little extra help on the guiding part, or we're both going to be put out on the street." After lying in bed for ten minutes, she opened her eyes and raised herself up onto her left forearm. "I didn't mean now," she said out loud. "You know I have to be up early for mass." She sighed, then readjusted herself and drifted off to sleep. She awoke shortly after 5 am, a habit that had begun soon after her marriage to her husband Thomas, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, in 1950. At first, the time was spent making breakfast and preparing his lunch for work. However, after they had children, the early morning hours often included making cupcakes for classroom birthday parties or pasting various shapes of construction paper onto poster board to help with projects that had been left until the last minute. The house was empty now, but she still awoke automatically, within ten minutes of five o'clock, so that she could get herself ready for morning mass.

         After showering and dressing herself, she sat at her bedroom vanity and began putting on her makeup. She paused and looked at her wedding picture, running her fingers over her husband's face. "Oh, Tommy." she sighed softly. "We're in trouble. The savings is gone and that young man from Carson's Appliance said the furnace needs to be replaced before winter. I don't think I'm going to make it. I know you're watching out for me, but maybe you could put in a special request."

         She walked down the stairs toward the front door, put on her coat, then paused briefly, deciding whether to take her cane or the walker. Having decided on the cane, she left the house and made her way along the sidewalk toward St. Michael's Church. "Please tell me that you've come up with an idea? Of course not; why am I not surprised. If we don't come up with a solution, I may lose the house. I can't believe you want that for me." She paused at the corner, in front of the church. "For more than seventy years I've been doing all of the talking. I get the whole silent, invisible thing, but enough is enough. Please, I need your help." She started climbing the church stairs. "I should just ask God if I can trade you in on another model; maybe something from one of the other choirs."

         When Maggie entered the church, she headed straight for the confessional and, seeing that the red light above the priest's door was on, went in and kneeled down. "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been one day since my last confession. Since then, I've been despairing over a financial matter. Other than that, not much to report."

         The voice behind the screen gave her the absolution, then said, "You know Maggie, you don't have to go to confession every day."

         "I thought this was supposed to be anonymous."

         "I can see you." said the priest.

         "Isn't it true, Father Ed, that God grants us graces whenever we receive a sacrament?"

         "Yes."

         "I need all of the help I can get, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow." Maggie left the confessional, then made her way to her spot in the front pew, on Mary's side of the church. During the homily, Father Arasu Nyakoro, the associate pastor, spoke about perseverance in the face of personal trials; or at least Maggie was pretty sure that was the topic. Father Rasi, as he asked to be called, was from Nigeria and during his three years in the states, held on relentlessly to his accent. When mass ended, Maggie made the three-block trek back to her house.

         As she opened the front door and removed her coat, she heard the sound of pans rattling in the kitchen. "Something smells good." she called out.

         "Hey, baby girl. I've got lunch started. How was church?" came the reply from the kitchen.

         "Good." replied Maggie. "But when Father Rasi says mass, I feel like I need subtitles."

         "You are so bad. Come give me a hand and grab yourself a cup of coffee."

         Maggie decided to use her cane while walking to the kitchen, as the trip home had tired her somewhat. When she entered the warmth of the room, Jean was closing the oven door. She walked over and gave her a hug, kissing her cheek."

         "I put in a chicken and some vegetables; should be ready in an hour......and I went out and got some boxes."

         Maggie did not reply, but merely cast her gaze toward the floor.

         "It's time Mags. Tommy's been gone a long time. You said we could do this today."

         "There'll be other clothing drives."

         Jean smiled. "Chin up; we can do this. Those old clothes should go to people who can use them, not just sit in a closet, taking up space."

         Maggie returned the smile. "You're right; it's time. Let's do this."

         Jean put her arm around Maggie and guided her up the stairs to her bedroom. Several boxes had already been assembled and were waiting on the bed. The two friends spent the hour lovingly folding and packing the clothes. There were some tears, but before long, the job was finished and the two friends started back down the stairs toward the kitchen. About halfway down, Maggie paused and steadied herself on the handrail.

         "Are you alright?" asked Jean, obviously concerned.

         "Yes, I'm fine; just a little head spin."

         "I'd better call 911."

         "Jean Marie Grant, don't you dare! It's just a little spell."

         "Calm down child. Let's go sit in the kitchen. I'll get you a cup of tea."

         The two sat next to each other at the table. "I'm really proud of you Maggie." Jean said, clasping her hand. "Today was a huge step forward."

         "I'll just be glad when it's all out of the house," replied Maggie.

         Jean was out shopping when the men from the church came to pick up the donated items. Maggie ushered them up the stairs to the bedroom, where the boxes lay stacked on the floor by the bed. Each of the men grabbed what they could carry and headed back toward their truck. Maggie, being in a hurry to have the task completed, grabbed a box and made her way down the staircase. About halfway down, she got another dizzy spell. She tried but failed to grab the banister, and tumbled down, landing unconscious on the floor in front of the door. The men found her and immediately called for help.

         The hospital called Jean, who in turn, called me. I arrived at the emergency room to find Jean talking to a doctor.

         "Miss Grant, the sprained ankle was merely a symptom, not the cause of Mrs. O'Conner's fall. She suffered a serious stroke. I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but she doesn't have much time left ."

         "Can I see her now?" asked Jean.

         "Yes, of course, as soon as the nurses get her settled. She's been asking for you."

         Jean turned and saw me standing behind her. "I'm so sorry. This must be very difficult for you"

         I was surprised by the lack of emotion on her face. After all their years of friendship, I fully expected her to fall apart at hearing the doctor's words, but nothing. "I guess we'd better head down to her room," I said tearfully.

         A nurse led Jean and I to where Maggie lay. We walked quietly into the dimly lit room, where I took a seat in an armchair and Jean sat on the edge of the bed. She brushed Maggie's forehead with her hand and carefully adjusted the blankets. "It's going to be alright baby girl. I'm not going anywhere." Maggie did not respond; her breathing was shallow and her skin was gray and ashen. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm not leaving you; I'll be with you the whole time." She held Maggie's hand in hers and smiled softly. "Where you are going, I have already been. It is more beautiful than human words can describe. I'm going to take you there. After all, I can't have you trading me in on different model from another choir."

         I sat staring at Jean in stunned silence, not fully understanding her words or even certain that I had heard her correctly. She seemed to sense this and rose from the bed, coming toward me and embracing me. "It's her time child. I want you to know that she is going to be alright; I'll see to it." Then she stood by the bed and clasped Maggie's hand again. Jean began to glow softly, as if illuminated from within. The monitor by the bed began to beep loudly and the lines on it went flat. The glow around Jean magnified and seemed to engulf Maggie. A moment later, Maggie lay in the bed alone; Jean was nowhere to be seen. I stood there slack-jawed, my mind not fully grasping what I had seen.

* * * * * *

2013

         "Jean was an angel!" exclaimed Angela excitedly.

         ""That's right sweetheart; she was. I've never told anyone before, but I'm glad that I told you. Are you ready to say prayers now?"

         "I sure am and I definitely want to say the angel prayer."

* * * * * *

Word Count: 3133