Authors: Denise Kahn
BOSTON 1999
CHAPTER 6
Ms. Nagel softly knocked on Sam’s door. “Sam? Are you alright? May I come in?” No answer. “Sam?” Still no answer. She slowly opened the door. The room was dark except for a web of light that came through the curtains from the street lamp. She saw Sam sleeping, Sandstorm faithfully cradled next to her ribs.
“Sam, honey,” Ms. Nagel said, caressing the young girl’s cheek, “I brought you some soup. You have to eat.” Sam opened her eyes and noticed a softness in Ms. Nagel’s face she had never seen before. She had hardly ever paid attention to the older women, as she and the rest of the students in the school only thought of her as an old maid with no distinguishing personality.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know, but you have to eat, you have to keep yourself strong.”
“What for? I just want to die, to fall asleep and never wake up.”
“Don’t say that. You have your whole life in front of you.”
“Who wants it? I don’t have anyone anyway. No parents, no family. Nothing to live for.”
“Oh, Sam, there is so much to live for. You’re gloriously young, intelligent and absolutely beautiful. Why you’re one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m not. I wouldn’t say such a thing if it wasn’t true, besides, I don’t lie.”
“What’s the use of life anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have fun as a child but you’re too young to understand how great that is, then you have go to school for twelve years, then college and university for even more. Once you graduate you go to work. If you’re lucky you’ll meet somebody, have a kid or two who will give you joy when they are small. Then they’ll give you grief, and when they’ve finally matured they’ll tell you that you’re their best friend and how much they love you. And then they go off and leave you and you’re lucky to see them at holidays, and get a phone call once in a while.”
“That’s quite a philosophy.”
“That’s life,” Sam retorted with disgust.
“Some of that might be true, but it’s the little details that make life full and worthwhile. Is there anything more precious or powerful that a young child hugging you? Holding you so tight and making you understand that you’re its protector, the most important being in the world, all while loving you?”
“And then goes off and gets married and you become a shadow in the background, because they found someone to love even more.”
“But a very important shadow who gets that one look when you’re dancing with him at his wedding that says: thank you for being my mother, thank you for giving me life, and thanks for all the sacrifices you made for me.”
Sam looked up from her bed. “Really?”
“Yes. As I said, these are the details that make life beautiful.”
Never having thought much about Ms. Nagel Sam wondered if the woman had ever been married or even had a child. “Do you have a son or a daughter?” She asked apprehensively, fearing suddenly that perhaps this woman who had let herself go, didn’t really care about her appearance and probably was younger than she actually looked, and who might have had a traumatic experience as well. No one knew much about her, well at least none of the students, and now Sam was curious.
Ms. Nagel looked at Sam and gently took her hands. “I was married once,” she said softly, “to a wonderful man who gave me a perfect child. This boy was an angel, never gave me any grief, was a good student and a good son. He went on to marry a lovely woman, beautiful inside and out.” She smiled at the memory. “And then one day they all went to watch a ball game. On their way back home they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A drive-by shooting killed all three of them.”
Sam gasped. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry…I’m so very sorry.” The two women embraced and held each other, their pain an instant and horrific connection.
“Yes, my dear, another one of life’s moments, but life is still beautiful.” Ms. Nagel said, pulling back from Sam. “Now, you must be strong, you must live for yourself. You still have everything going for you, and you are young and smart. Don’t let any of that slip by.”
Sam looked at the older woman, tears still streaming down her young face. “Does it get any better, or does the pain stay with you forever?” She asked.
“It does get better. First you think about it for what seems every moment of every day, and you ask yourself why? Why did they have to die? Why couldn’t they have a full life? Why couldn’t they share more years with the people who loved them? Why couldn’t I have been with them and been killed as well. I would have welcomed that. And most of all where was the fairness of taking a child away from his mother, when a parent is not supposed to outlive their offspring. But you go on with your life, there’s no other choice really, and then you think about them and the circumstances less and less. That doesn’t mean you forget them or you will ever stop loving them, it means that the pain becomes less intense, but you never forget.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sam repeated, “I didn’t know.”
“No, not too many people do, and I try to keep it away from the school.”
“I understand.”
“Now, let’s get some soup into you,” she said, handing Sam the bowl she had prepared.
“Thank you, Ms. Nagel.”
♫
PARRIS ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA
SUMMER 2001
CHAPTER 7
It was Sunday and the recruits were allowed to go worship God as they pleased. Max liked to say that he believed in God, but he didn’t need to be inside four walls to prove it. But this veneration, however, offered an opportunity to ‘get away’ from the continuous drill of the Corps, even for just a couple of hours.
Max followed his ears and walked towards a building. He wasn’t sure if it was a chapel, but he could hear singing, maybe gospel. He entered the makeshift church. He was right, and everyone present was in their ‘Sunday best’—fatigues—and to Max’s delight they were definitely chanting and swaying to the rhythm of the music. He thought this was possibly the first time he had smiled since arriving on the island. He watched from the door. There weren’t too many people present and he recognized Colin Haferty, who was at the head of a group of singers toward the end of the room. Max was careful not to interrupt and stood quietly by the entrance. And then the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the big man did a solo at the front of what they called, at least for that Sunday’s worship, a church. The deep baritone voice was incredibly powerful and as smooth as warm honey. Max was mesmerized and impressed, and that was saying something. He came from a long line of world famous entertainers and there wasn’t much he hadn’t been exposed to. He had been among the very best since he was born and this colossus had just floored him. Colin’s ‘
Amazing Grace’
absolutely blew him away. If Max only had a couple minutes left of life he would want to go out of this world listening to that big man’s rendition of that song.
Oh, if only my mother could hear you now!
He stayed for the entire mass and found himself clapping with the others and enjoying the worship. Once over he caught up with Colin Haferty.
“Hey, Haf, do you sing professionally?” Max asked him.
“I would like to, and of course that would be my dream. Before I joined I dabbled with some gigs here and there in the city.”
“You really should make a career out of it, man.”
“Yeah, that would be nice, but it isn’t easy breaking into that business.”
“I understand.”
The next Sunday Max and Colin went to church together. The big man went toward the group that would sing, and on Colin’s insistence Max sat in the front row.
As the men in the chorus sang the worshippers joined in. Max swayed and sang as well. He also thought of his mother—she had always told him that music was in his genes and would be the path that he would take in life. How did she know that? Max concluded that it was because she knew her little boy, and she could, of course, recognize a musician’s soul.
When the singing stopped the priest looked at the men in front of him. “Can anyone play the piano?” Max raised his hand and then wanted to kick himself. He knew better than to volunteer in the military. “Good, come up here young man.” How could Max say no to a priest? “Do you know ‘I shall overcome’?”
“By Charles Tindley?”
“Oh, excellent, yes!”
Max nodded and started playing. His fingers were happy to be pushing the ebonies and ivories, and in the punishing training of the past days he knew his soul needed the amnesty. At the moment it came from the music being channeled to his hands.
Colin sang and Max played. The men worshipping thought they were at a professional concert. They couldn’t get enough of the duo who were putting a smile on their face and music in their hearts.
Every Sunday the hall was full. Word about the uplifting atmosphere spread throughout the island and the makeshift church welcomed its fatigue-covered flock. It didn’t matter what faith they believed in. What was important to them is that for an hour or two they could immerse themselves into the bliss of peacefulness, some prayers and music.
When mass was over Max and Colin walked toward the mess hall for lunch.
“Hey, man, where did you learn to play like that?” Colin asked.
“Just picked it up from watching my mother and a few lessons. I’ve got some musicians in my family. Maybe it’s in the genes.”
“They any good?”
“Well, my Mom plays a couple of instruments and sings pretty well, and the rest of the older relatives were pretty musical too.” Max answered, but wasn’t about to say anything about the lineage that had made headlines for generations, dating back to his famous concert pianist great-great-grandmother. Nor did he want to mention that his mother was one of the most famous people in the world. He wanted the men to treat him like everybody else. Fame and money made people react in strange ways, and Max didn’t want anything to interfere with what they knew about him, which was just that he wanted to be a Marine, and that was it. He wanted to be one of the guys, a fellow brother.
“By the way, I meant to ask you, how do you know about Charles Tindley?” Colin asked.
“Come on, Haf, he’s considered the father of Gospel music, the composer of the song that became the anthem of the Civil Rights Movement during the 60’s.”
“I’m impressed, Music Man, you sure you don’t have any black in you?” Colin chuckled.
“Music is a rainbow, Haf, with all the colors that merge together flawlessly. If everyone saw it as you and I do we would have the world’s most beautiful symphony.”
♫
BOSTON 1999
CHAPTER 8
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Samantha. I knew your parents for years and I will greatly miss them.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Silvers, “I appreciate that,” Sam said to the lawyer. She ushered him into her father’s den, a room he had adored, which also doubled as an office.
“Would you like a coffee or some tea?” Ms. Nagel asked. She had remained with Sam since the accident.
“No, thank you.”
“Sam?”
“No, thank you, Ms. Nagel.”
“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” She turned and left Sam with the lawyer.
“Ms. Nagel seems very nice.”
“Yes, she’s been a godsend. She’s been with me the last couple of days since… since they were killed.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re not alone.”
Sam looked at Silvers and shivered. For some reason she was uneasy around him. Was it his eyes? He hadn’t been demeaning, but Sam felt that coming from him. Was it because of her age? Would he take advantage of the situation? That’s ridiculous, she chastised herself, he’s Daddy’s lawyer, for Christ’s sake.
“Shall we get down to business?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay. As you know your father always provided a comfortable life for both your mother and yourself.” Sam nodded. “And I’ve come to read you his will.” Sam nodded again. Silvers, who was sitting in her father’s favorite armchair, put his briefcase on his lap and opened it. “I could read you the entire will but I can just tell you that everything now belongs to you… the house, the corporation, well everything. That’s the gist of it. However…” He paused to look at the young woman. “There’s a problem.”
“I’m not eighteen or twenty-one,” Sam ventured.
“That’s true, but we could have worked around that so that you would be comfortable. No, there’s another problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“I don’t know if your father ever confided in you about his business.”
“Not really.”
“Well, he was working on a venture, a really big deal, but unfortunately it didn’t work out.”
“Mr. Silvers, what are you trying to tell me?”
“Well, basically, he put everything he owned into this undertaking, and had it gone through he would have made millions. Unfortunately, for a lack of a better term, it all came crashing down.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked, her voice starting to quiver.
Ms. Nagel had detected the fear in Sam’s voice and went into the room.
Silvers saw her. “Ms. Nagel? Is there something you want?”
“No, well, yes, I want to know that Sam is alright.”
Silvers looked at Sam. “Do you mind if Ms. Nagel stays?”
“No, not at all.” Ms. Nagel went behind Sam’s chair and put her hands on the young woman’s shoulders.
“Please, Mr. Silvers, explain what all this means,” Sam said.
“It means that your father lost everything, and there isn’t anything left—no money, no corporation, the house is in foreclosure, and all the antiques and furniture have to be sold to pay off even more of the debt.”
“Can’t this be postponed due his death? Can’t the banks give us… give me more time?”
“They don’t care, Sam, it’s all about getting their money back. And you will have to vacate by next week.”
Sam’s stomach had been in knots, now her heart was missing its normal beats.
“What about insurance?”
“You mean the accident?”
“Yes, the truck driver and his company.”
“The driver didn’t have any, he was driving illegally, so there’s nothing there either.”
“What about Mom and Dad, didn’t they have life insurance?”
“That’s going to pay off the debt as well.”
“What about my scholarship to med school?”
“I’m not sure about that, I’ll have to look into it.”
“What!” Sam exclaimed. “I’ve worked so hard.”
“
I
know about that,” Ms. Nagel chimed in, no one can take that away from you. You will be able to get your education.”
“So I’ll be able to live in the dorm, but where will I stay until then?”
“The state will take care of you.”
“You can’t be serious,” Ms. Nagel said, “surely they can’t leave a young girl destitute… why it’s like throwing her out on the street.”
“Well, she won’t be.”
“You mean put me in a home, like foster care?” Sam asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I won’t do it.”
“You have no other choice,” the lawyer said.
“Yes, she does,” Ms. Nagel said, “she can come live with me. I’m not rich but I have more than enough for food, and a warm home with a guest room. She is welcome to stay for as long as she wants.”
“Ms. Nagel, you would do that?” Sam asked, amazed at the spontaneous kindness of this woman.
“Without hesitation.”
“Sam what do you think?” Silvers asked.
“Well, it seems I don’t have any choice, and I would be grateful to Ms. Nagel for her hospitality.”
“Ms. Nagel, wouldn’t you like to discuss this with your family?”
“Mr. Silvers, I don’t have a family anymore, and if I did they would welcome her with open arms. Sam is now my family.”
“Can Sandstorm come too?” Sam asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely, it wouldn’t be the same without him.”
Two days later Sam walked the halls and visited the rooms of what had been her home for the last time. She remembered how her mother had decorated for Christmas, prepared lavish parties and watched her cook delicious meals.
Sam left the only home she had ever known. She packed a suitcase with clothes, a box with books, the family’s photo albums and her guitar. Sandstorm followed her faithfully to Ms. Nagel’s. Sam stepped away from the house and didn’t look back. She would remember only the good. A last look would ruin that and change the image she wanted to cherish.
“Well, this is it, home sweet home,” Ms. Nagel said opening the door to her house.
Sam ventured in and looked around. It didn’t have the opulence of her own home, well the one that wasn’t hers anymore, but this little house had warmth, and she could sense that at some point great joy and love had permeated between the walls.
“I think it’s perfectly lovely and charming, Ms. Nagel.”
“Thank you, Sam. It’s not as big as what you’re used to, but at least you’ll be safe and warm, and with someone who cares about you.”
“I think it’s just perfect and I’m very grateful to you, Ms. Nagel,” she said, hugging the older woman. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Hardly, Sam, you’re a strong, intelligent young woman. I just want this transition to be a little easier for you. Now, let me show you to your room, and I’ve prepared a cozy corner for Sandstorm.” The cat rubbed himself against her leg.
“Oh, you’ve made a friend for life, Ms. Nagel,” Sam said, chuckling.
“I’m honored. And it’s good to see you laughing, young lady, keep it up.”
♫