It's You I Like - the Novella

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It's You I Like!
The Novella

by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

Dedicated to my sweet Mother-in-Law
Natalie Elizabeth
1928 - 2009

 



Strong Caution: Adult Themes;
Recovery from sexual abuse as a child depicted; Suicide depicted.

The story features characters from the series; The Secret and Providence.
Andrea DiMaggio in this story is second cousin to her namesake from the Home that Love Built Series.

You'll Have Things You'll Want to Talk About!

Ardmore area, West Chester, Pennysylvania…

The woman adjusted the camera and set the timer once again. She walked over to the sofa and sat down. At one time, her eyes would be distracted by the door, which even when locked, still threatened her secret. The door no longer threatened as there were no longer any secrets, and no one to enter. She smoothed her dress and put her legs together slightly at an angle. She hadn't worn a wig in months, her own auburn hair had grown to a nice length, and she had actually had it permed for the first time. She wore little makeup; her soft features needed little adornment. Her eyes, while attractive, continued their habit of reflecting her sadness, despite the smile that attempted to emerge. No photo would be able to erase the months of heartache and loneliness, and she turned away from the camera and wept as the timer went off.


Betty Aberlin (yes, like the nice lady in Mr. Roger's neighborhood) sat at her desk, drinking a cup of herbal tea when her colleague knocked on the door.

"Hey, babe, we're going out to Applebee’s since the kids have the rest of the day off." Gina Kelly stood in Betty's doorway. "No time for tuna salad and yogurt, girlfriend."

"That sounds great. Can I ride with you; I need to talk with someone."

"Sure, sweetie, we can catch up on news. I heard Rickie made honor roll at school.” (See Lascia Ch’io Pianga.)

"That's not the whole story. He and Alice....." Betty started to beam, her broadening grin evoking the following from Gina"

"He...and....Alice....? Absolutely Friggin' Fantastic!" Normally not profane, you may choose to excuse Gina's occasional foray into faux swearing, since it was, as she put it, absolutely friggin’ fantastic. Rickie had nearly lost his life when he was in his junior year of high school, and she and Betty both had followed his and Alice's progress with great joy. Their engagement, while considered a foregone conclusion in Gina's mind, still remained news and good news at that.

"They're planning for the wedding now, but they've decided to wait until they're finished with school. It's a long engagement, but they're keeping everything in perspective."


Gina took the longer way to the restaurant so she and Betty would have some time to talk. Betty and she chatted for most of the ride and Gina suspected that Betty had something much more important than peach cobbler to talk about.

She pulled into her bank driveway to go to the ATM and stopped the car.

"Okay...What did you really want to talk about?"

Betty's eyes started to tear up. No, she wasn't going to cry...at least not just yet, but she was feeling vulnerable, and Gina had a way of getting people to open up. She had asked for the ride, hoping that it would be long enough to muster enough courage to talk. She wasn't so sure now, but Gina still had her way.

"I think soup and sandwiches at my house probably would be better at this point. I'll call Carla on her cell when we get home."


There's really nothing really cathartic about chicken salad and tomato soup, but the meal, such as it was, helped Betty open up.

"I thought I'd be over it by now," she said, trying not to cry. "It's just that I had my life planned...you know, and when Don told me...."

She was crying now, but still able to talk.

"Three years and then nothing? He found someone who makes him laugh? Can you believe that?"

Gina held her friend's hand as she sat and cried. Gina had never really liked Don. He was charming enough...perhaps too charming, and he was condescending toward Betty. It's amazing how so many nice attractive people feel so bad about themselves; some to the point of accepting little or no love in exchange for some sort of security. Betty was one of the sweetest girls you'd ever meet, and she was as pretty as they come, as some might say. She stood about 5'10 and had lovely dark blue eyes, which apparently most men besides Don would have found hard to resist. She was entirely attractive; she just didn't know it. Betty had a reason for her insecurity, but was never able to share her story. You may recall that some caregivers can give excellent counsel and encouragement while unable to receive the same. Betty was no exception to that.

Gina resisted the urge to say something. It had been nearly two years since the breakup, and she found herself as mad at Don as Betty was disappointed. She patted her friend's hand and allowed her to cry; it was really the thing Betty needed to do at that point.


"I left the boxes at your mother's house. Listen, Carrie...."
His connection ended as his ex-wife hung up on him. The divorce was finalized for nearly a year, but he hadn't had much contact. Some former spouses remain "friends" after the divorce; some because the relationship has changed only enough to end the marriage; others for the sake of the children. Andy still loved Carrie in his own way, but she had already moved on. No children and no friendship equal no relationship, Period! She had been seeing someone throughout the separation, but he really couldn't blame her. Their marriage was really over years before that, and it hung on life-support until she mercifully ended it.

Her wedding was in two weeks and he was not invited. Part of him was glad that she had found someone that actually pleased her. She wasn't demanding at all, and he had tried to fulfill what little expectations she had, but had failed miserably. Counseling had helped him identify his role in the demise of his marriage, and while it takes two people to make or break a marriage, he accepted his responsibility. Guilt and shame, however still plagued him, and he wondered if he could ever find happiness, as broken as he was.


Betty picked up her phone and punched in the number she had found in the yellow pages.

"Hi, is this Ardmore Veterinary Hospital? Oh, great. My regular vet is out of town. I'm sorry to bother you, but my cat is still bringing in fleas. Do you have anything effective? I got some stuff from Shop-Rite, but it doesn't seem to do the trick. You have? Can I bring her in today? Oh, great. I'm at work, so I'll pick her up and be there by four.

Thanks." Betty's cat would find that the vet's remedy was entirely effective. Betty, on the other hand, would be completely surprised that her own problems would receive attention, however unplanned.


"Aberlin? Like in Mr. Roger's?" The man smiled, trying not to laugh. Noting his attempt to stifle a grin, Betty said,

"Oh, go ahead. She's actually my second cousin or something; my mother was never really sure which. And you'll get a kick out of this," Betty said, pointing to the cat carrier.

"Meet Henrietta Pussycat."

Andy smiled and leaned over to look into the carrier.

"Pleased to meet you," he said as he stood back up and faced Betty. He pointed to the large tomcat asleep on the counter behind him" "Daniel Tiger," he said as he pointed to the cat. This evoked a giggle from Betty, who tired ever so hard not to laugh out loud. She had a nice laugh, but she tended to get loud quickly and while most people though it cute, she found it embarrassing.

"Let's just see how Henrietta's doing." Andy said as he opened the carrier and pick up the cat inside.

"Not too bad, but still pretty uncomfortable, huh sweetie? That's right, we'll just give you a nice bath and get something to help you, okay?" Betty would recall later that his tone not only was soothing to her cat, but she found herself relaxed by his disarming charm, even if it was directed to his patient.


"A vet, huh." Gina asked as she reached for her yogurt. "So tell me, were Lady Elaine and Dr. Bill Platypus there as well?" She offered Betty a container of yogurt and a tea.

"Funny...." she smiled, trying hard not to think of the vet.

"So what's he look like." Gina was not so much interested in that as much as wanting to know how interested Betty was.

"It's funny. He's...." Betty tried not to be embarrassed, since she was surprised at her own attraction for a man she had just met. "He's nothing at all like Don."

"Well, we've established that he's not a condescending selfish ass, but I'm sure there's more to him than that."

Betty at one time would have resented Gina's remark, in as much as it not only described Don, but described her poor choice as well. After two years of counseling, she had come to a place where she accepted her own part in enabling Don, but also was beginning to deal positively with other issues regarding the relationship.

"He reminds me a little of...sort of an Italian version of Elijah Wood, only my height." It was a fair, if not completely accurate description. Andy had brown eyes and was really about an inch shorter, which still only made him about 5'9'.

"I would have thought he'd be a Phillies fan, but he's a third cousin or something to Joe DiMaggio, and is a Yankee fan. Got pictures on the wall and everything." Gina rolled her eyes.


She woke up at three forty seven AM exactly, according to the clock readout. The yelling echoed in her head as if it was still occurring, even though the voices ceased years ago. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She noticed she had fallen asleep without changing her clothes, and her dress was soaked with sweat. She got up and walked to the bathroom to shower. As she passed the closet door, she noticed her image in the mirror on the door.

Yes, mirrors seem to hold some enchanted power in the greater West Chester Philadelphia area, but only as much power as the people who look give to them. She looked back at the bed, and the queen-size width only made her loneliness more pronounced. She grew angry with herself, feeling with only a little accuracy that it was her fault she was alone. She turned back to the mirror and stared at her image for a moment. She resisted the urge to cry and walked into the bathroom and shut the door.


"I wanted to thank you for helping with Henrietta last week. She's doing fine, and no more fleas."

Andy looked at the phone, which was on speaker. His hands were occupied with the Airedale on the examination table

"Happy to oblige." He would have loved to continued with "Are you doing anything Friday?" but instead said,

"Let me know if there's anything else you need." Betty, on the other hand, was not at all shy and said,

"Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?" People sometimes do go out for coffee, but Betty would have loved to have said, "Are you dating?"

Andy was taken aback for a moment and he dropped the bottle of pills in his hand onto the table. His face reddened as Mrs. Giordano stared at the phone and grinned in approval. Angelo, her Airedale, wagged his tail and licked Andy's face as he reached over for the pills.

"Uh....That sounds nice." He stammered and the response was,

"Call me...you've got my number," followed by the dial tone.
Daniel Tiger looked at Andy and got up, turned around three times and went back to sleep in the same spot.

Mrs. Giordano just smiled and nodded once again in approval.


She awoke once again, this time at four twenty-seven. Same voices, same yelling, same shame. Her father yelled at her mother on a daily basis, evoking streams of tears quickly followed by her mother's near-drunken response after Daddy would storm out of the house. She would sit behind her mother and comb her hair as they watched TV.

"You’re a big help to Mommy, sweetheart," her mother would say between sips of beer. Daddy would come home after everyone had gone to bed and the yelling would start up again. She would lie awake at night thinking of how much she hated her father.

"I'll never be like you, she would say to herself."

Some people believe you can make a rash vow, and what you choose to hate, you become. That may be true to some extent. Unforgiveness can act sometimes as mortar for the walls we build. But the girl really had little choice. With two alcoholic parents and the misunderstanding of having to choose whom to emulate, she ended up being just like both of them, to some extent, and her bitterness followed her into adulthood. She dressed in nice skirts and pretty dresses but she treated her only love just like Daddy treated Mommy. Her failure visited her nightly and accused her. Her counselor helped her see this and she was able once and a while to set those accusations aside. She had long ago forgiven her parents and but was only just now beginning to forgive herself.


"He's divorced. He's in therapy and he actually has taken responsibility."

"UH OH," Gina said with a teasing grin, "Damaged goods." Actually, Gina and Betty had come to the conclusion that we all are, to some extent, damaged goods. Some of our wounds may be self-inflicted, but we all find ourselves needing acceptance and forgiveness as well as needing to be accepting and forgiving.

"I know...but." And it really was just a small but. Betty knew exactly what she was getting into, and between her own determination to take it slow and Gina's perfect willingness to remind her, she was approaching her attraction to Andy with appropriate caution. It didn't hurt that Gina and Ben were praying for her, as well.

"I have no intention of rescuing him like a hurt puppy," Betty said, failing to see the irony of her statement."I guess we'll just see where this leads. I am attracted to him; I'm not going to lie."

Gina responded with a grin, "Not to me, at least."

"We're going to dinner Saturday. Well, actually pizza at Giorgio's." Gina looked at her and smiled.

"I trust you, sweetie." Betty needed to hear Gina say that. She wanted to explore this new thing, but she also needed to know she had her friend's support. "Just keep me posted, okay?"


She looked at the monitor and breathed a deep sight. The camera had captured some nice poses; the website had about seventeen portraits or body shots, along with some scenery, and while they all looked pretty, each one showed a very attractive but sad woman. Someone actually commented that her favorite photo made her look like she was about to cry.
She had no friends to speak of, although some of the messages she received were supportive and even kind. She was torn in that she felt she was unable to provide anyone with the person they expected and she was dissatisfied with the person she was. And now she had met someone she thought might be the one, but her failure with her first love made her blind to the possibility that another could love her. She didn't even love herself, despite what her counselor had encouraged her about. Her self-image was pretty on the outside, but she hated what she had become. She was really nothing like what she believed herself to be, since she had long ago set aside her own selfish behavior.

But the guilt and shame continued to dog her like the hound of hell, and she fell asleep at night filled with fear and doubt, weeping without tears. A door was about to open, and it would flood her heart with the light of acceptance.


Betty sat across from Andy at the restaurant, sipping some wine. Andy stared intently at her, interested in just about everything she had to say. After talking about their respective jobs, Betty unexpectedly began talking about more personal stuff; actually owing more to Andy’s expression than the glass of wine.

"I'm one of three kids; well five actually. My sister is married and lives in Detroit with her family. My baby brother is living in Texas with his girlfriend. They're engaged. Next March."

"One of five? That's only three, counting yourself." Andy realized almost immediately after he asked the question that her answer would likely be something like what she then explained.

"I was two and my brother Tim was four. Drunk driver hit our car. Timmy was on the side." Her eyes began to mist up as she tried without any success to avoid the memory. I’ve never shared this before. My younger brother Jackie....he commit suicide when he was sixteen."
Her memories thankfully didn't include the details.

Andy reached over without thinking and put his hand on Betty's. "Oh, God, no. That is so sad." Andy had no intention of asking for any detail, but Betty continued. "My uncle had been.....Jackie and me....He hated himself so much...."

Betty felt so naked, sitting in the restaurant. She had not wanted to say anything important this soon, and she didn't know Andy well enough, either way. Andy patted her hand and she saw he was crying softly. Sometimes the innocent become cynical and mean when they are hurt and disillusioned, but the opposite sometimes is true.

Forgiveness and understanding may sometimes make the cynical sensitive and the bitter may become caring. Andy's work with his counselor had not transformed his view of himself, but the years of work had helped him at least care more about others.

"You don't have to say anything else. Please...it's okay." He wanted to hear everything, but he could see just how much Betty was “in the moment,” as if it were all taking place all over again. It's absolutely a great idea to avoid saying that you understand when you don't. Andy didn't understand what Betty had gone through, but he at least understood that it still hurt her.

"Jackie had been dressing for about two years. My sister Marta and I were the only ones who knew about it, and it was a secret we kept. I sometimes think that if we had said something to someone...but it wasn't him dressing." Andy was so focused on Betty’s pain that he missed this key part of her story, key to him at least.

"It was what Uncle Jack did to him and me that he never recovered from." Andy saw that she was struggling only with some success to hold back the flood. He stood and walked to the front counter. He handed the girl some cash, saying,

"My friend is not feeling well. This should cover it. Please keep the change." He walked over to Betty and picking up her purse, helped her up and out of the restaurant. The drive home served to give her some time to collect herself.


Andy listened intently as Betty apologized, unnecessarily, I should add. No one can remember anything as painful as she did without getting “emotional,” and Andy was at least glad he was there for her.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to burden you with all this. I haven't talked about it for some time, and when I have in the past, I never have behaved that way." Andy thought that she was too hard on herself, which she was.

Recounting to an acquaintance, if not a stranger, that your brother killed himself is bound to evoke strong emotions.

He actually felt privileged that she trusted him enough to tell him. His own faith had only recently returned, and he felt ill-equipped but nevertheless compelled to silently pray for the woman in the car beside him.

Familiar streets and buildings past by unnoticed as he drove her home. He walked her to her front door. He grabbed both of her hands and said,"

"I won't offer to come in, but please call me if you need to talk." He turned to go, but she held his hands.

"Thank you. I don't know why I did that, but in a way, I'm glad I did." Andy looked at her, confused until she added,

"Would you call me as soon as you get home?"

"Sure, Betty, I'd be glad to. Well, I'll just see myself off, and I'll call you." He turned go, but she still hadn't let go of his hands. She reached over and kissed him on the cheek and went into the house.


"Mushrooms, Onions, extra cheese AND crying?" Gina felt okay about the teasing only after Betty mentioned that the customers at the restaurant thought they had mistakenly stumbled into a dinner theater.

"I don't know why, but I wanted to kiss him again, and not on the cheek."

"Sweetie, you were vulnerable and he was...well, he was attentive."

"Oh, I know, but you had to see his eyes." Gina imagined Puss in Boots from the Shrek movies when he does the "Sad Kitty" look. She looked sideways at Betty and pursed her lips as if to say, "Oh, sure."

"No, I mean it. He actually was crying, and I don't think it was for himself." Gina was about to say "Oh sure," aloud, when something prompted her to think of her own husband.

"I'm sorry, honey. Go on."

"Jackie meant the world to me and Marta, and I swear part of me died when he died. Andy seemed to understand, without saying anything, you know?" She paused. I'm not going to base a relationship on last night, but I think he's....safe." She said that almost as a question, which led Gina to say,

"Then, apart from crying and embarrassment, I guess it's safe to assume you might go out on another date with him?"

Sometimes it takes a lot of talking and listening for something to occur in our hearts or minds, but every once and a while, like the old hymn goes, sometimes a light surprises...


The woman looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't appear any different than she had every other time she took her photo. Tonight would prove to be different. She took several poses of herself in a nice wine colored dress. Her auburn hair was done nicely and she wore a pretty cameo pendant she had found in her mother's things. The poses were unremarkable in that she had several of them already with this dress. When she looked at them on her computer, she noticed one in particular that changed everything. Going to her site, she took down nearly all the photos she had posted. She left a few pictures of her favorite park and a nice picture of a very large tom cat. She posted only a single pose from that night. No new clothes or jewelry; nothing remarkable about her accessories or the background; just one feature that had been missing from all the other pictures. In this one, she was wearing the prettiest smile you would ever want to see.



And I will Too!

"He wrote her a letter apologizing for his behavior." Betty looked at Gina as if seeking approval. Betty was a big girl, and Gina was trying very hard not to interfere. To be truthful, Gina found it harder to play devil's advocate regarding Betty's relationship with Andy.

Andy wasn't just doing all the right things; he was living them. His marriage disintegrated in part due to his angry outbursts, which intensified to the point where his ex-wife couldn't take it any longer, and their marriage was over. He could have responded poorly and tried to justify his behavior. His ex-wife's sister confronted him. Never the one to hold back, she told him how horribly he had treated her sister; that it was inevitable that she couldn’t stay in that kind of relationship. It was perhaps how she talked to him that ultimately got his attention. She actually treated him with respect, and said that she still loved him like a brother even as she condemned his behavior. That night he had gone home and wept so bitterly and hard that his neighbor called the police, wondering what was wrong. He vowed to get help, and the next day he stayed home and called around. His own pastor recommended a practice in West Chester, and he went every week for a whole year until the counselor cut it back to once a month.

Oh, to say he was perfect would have been a lie. Each time a sensitive subject would come up, out would come some of the arguments and justification, just like most of us might do. But on the whole, he "took his medicine," and tried to reach out to his ex-wife. He was hoping for a bona fide reconciliation, but was able to accept, albeit with a lot of sadness, her decision not to return. She forgave him, after a fashion, and moved on. He moved on as well, but he never really gave up hope until she announced her engagement.

"We're getting together tomorrow to talk. Chinese take-out for dinner and coffee."

"Well, just so long as there's coffee," Gina teased.


Her image no longer spoke, unlike some. Things had changed, although conversations with her mirror friend suited her at first. She looked at her double, satisfied that she was presentable. She wasn't going to dinner tomorrow, but she wanted to rehearse for the time she would. Her auburn hair had reached shoulder length and was pulled back into a soft pony tail. She wore only lip gloss, but it set off her newly rediscovered smile, which hadn't made an appearance in nearly six years. She was wearing a denim skirt and a dark green top. Her wardrobe had changed over the past year, and while she still wore nice things, slacks or jeans were more likely than skirts or dresses, except on occasion. Her tops tended toward sleeveless and pastel, and she wore sandals a lot now that summer was here.

She took the odd photo now and then, and still maintained a site for her pictures, but she was more interested in how she was doing inside. A sister's page included some very pretty pictures enhanced by the young lady’s poetry, which encouraged the woman to face the questions that she had concerning what she wanted out of life. She hoped that the person she had made friends with recently would want the same things. Perhaps you may have felt like she did?


Andy sat on the couch, petting Henrietta while Betty brewed a pot of green tea, courtesy of Mandarin Dragon. She came over and placed the pot and two cups on the kitchen table and motioned for Andy to rejoin her.

"I wanted to talk somewhere where I felt….less vulnerable, and if things got serious, at least I wouldn’t have a restaurant full of diners staring at me." Andy had not thought about Betty in a romantic way…at least he thought he hadn’t, but he found himself thinking,

"I wouldn’t mind staring at you." He wanted to keep things in perspective. Apart from the abbreviated dinner the other night, he had not gone out with a woman since he had first separated, and that practice continued straight through the divorce and after. Most of his reluctance came from his insecurity and lingering guilt, and he did not want to inflict his behavior on anyone else…he’d hurt enough people already, and his successes with his self improvement hadn’t been put to a real test with a real person.

After working with the counselor, and with the help of his doctor, he was able to maintain himself despite the stress of the divorce. And today, even with a very attractive woman in front of him, his motive for being here was genuinely altruistic. Vets and counselors both make great friends, but can, at times, lapse into a rescue mode when in a relationship. For Betty and Andy both, it was okay, since that’s what the Director of our drama had intended.

"It stopped when Uncle Jack died." She blinked out a tear and continued. "It was ironic that Jackie was named after the one who abused us. I learned to forgive him eventually, but I was glad the day he died. It lasted for two years for me and another year past that for Jackie. To this day I feel stupid saying this, but I actually felt jealous when he stopped paying attention to me and focused on my brother."

Betty put her hand to her face, more out of grief than embarrassment. She had gotten over the trauma of the abuse years ago, but still struggled with the after-effects of shame and guilt, despite the help she had received. Many of us have those lingering doubts and self-recrimination that friends, family and counselors often help us deal with.

"Jackie had just broken up with his girlfriend. She actually didn’t know he was a cross
dresser...it was more than that..."

Betty had said this about her brother when she and Andy last talked, but he hadn’t heard her.

"She was moving to Oregon with her mother and step-father, and still wanted to ‘keep in touch.’" She looked away, wishing that Terri had never moved away, but really, nothing anyone could have done would have changed things….Jackie had left no clue, no warning signs.

"Mommy found him in the bathroom….He was already gone." She started to cry and as much as he wanted to hug her, Andy sat at the table, but reached across and held her hand. Andy had not planned it, but something prompted him to say,

"I was eleven, and it was my mother." He had tears in his eyes, but they weren’t for him. He was still focused on Betty’s pain, and he only said it as a point of commonality.

"Daddy spent most nights out at the bar, so she and I spent our time watching TV. She was usually as drunk as he was, but he preferred the Phillies and his buddies at the tavern and his bourbon and she preferred Dynasty and her beer and her little helper. One of her friends was fairly hard-of-hearing, and I answered the phone using my name, Andy. She said, ‘that’s lovely Andrea, won’t you please ask your mother to come to the phone?’ She told Mom the next day when she met me, and they both had a good laugh. From then on, it was, ‘Andrea, please get me my brush,’ or "Andrea, sweetheart, would you please get Mommy another beer?’ or ‘Andrea, come give your mother a kiss.’"

At one time, Andy would have expressed his hurt by pounding on the table. Today, his calm demeanor was not forced; he, too, had forgiven his abuser years ago, and was at a place where most of the fallout had dissipated. Betty looked at him in wonder.

"All my anger toward my mom and dad was pushed down, like a beach ball in a swimming pool. I could only keep it down for so long, and then it burst through the surface, and my ex-wife bore the brunt of all those years. Carrie put up with it as long as she could, but it really wasn’t fair to have to deal with my behavior. Oh, she had her problems, too, but even so, I never got any help until after she left, and then it was really too late."
Andy’s tears were for regret for what should have been.

"She remarried last week to a really great guy from Pittsburgh. I really pray God blesses her."

Betty had not stopped crying completely, but turned her attention to Andy as she listened to him continue.

Andy remembered what Betty had just said about her brother, and felt safe to follow with,

"My dressing started when I was twelve." Betty’s eyes widened. "I found Mom’s nightgown from the night before. I can’t even to this day explain why I chose that one, since the memories were so disgusting. But I put it on, and I felt a connection with her. It was me and her against Daddy, I guess. She found me in her room brushing my hair with the antique brush she had me use for her nightly grooming in front of the TV. ‘There’s my little Andrea, such a sweet girl,’ she said. It was actually one of the few times I can remember that she wasn’t drunk."

Most times, Andy would have been able to speak about what happened next without feeling the shame and guilt of the moment, but this was a new friend and not a counselor who sat in front of him.

"After she…, my counselor says the nice things might have gotten mixed up with the disgusting. But like I said, I still don’t know." By now, Andy’s affect had changed, and he seemed to be detached from what he was saying. But he looked at Betty, almost pleading for forgiveness for an offense he had never given. His eyes were filled with tears, and he bit his tongue.

"Andy…Andy. It’s okay." Betty said as she put her hand on his. He looked at her and closed his eyes. "It wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong." Andy opened his eyes again and looked at her, as if to argue.

"I did nothing wrong. Jackie did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong."

She wanted so much to hug him, but she continued to hold his hand. And Betty was right. No one escapes pain or disappointment. Not everyone is sexually abused, of course, but we all endure loss and grief and disappointment. Every one of us gets something we shouldn’t have to have at some time in our lives. Every one of us doesn’t get what we need at some time in our lives. But what is different for each one of us is how we deal with the pain and loss and grief.

It took Andy a failed marriage and his devastating treatment and loss of his first love to understand and act on that. Betty had not treated anyone she knew like that, but her own brief history of drugs and sex resulted in an abortion which she would regret for the rest of her life. Her decision to change transformed her into a caring compassionate woman who helped children cope with their own pain, but would never change her inability to bear another child. She knew her own choices paralleled Andy’s even if they weren’t entirely the same. But she also knew one thing for sure, something that Andy already knew, but had forgotten for only a short while until she reminded him; they both were forgiven.


Betty sat across from Gina at her desk as they ate lunch.

"What? No coffee?" Gina teased. Betty smiled as if she hadn’t been interrupted. Betty had only shared that she and Andy had talked about their past and found they had a lot in common. They were planning on going on an honest-to-goodness-no-crying-in-front-of-the-customers date on Saturday. Pizza, but at his house this time. She wanted to get to know him more, and felt the less chance of running into someone either of them knew, the better. Even though this would only really be their third "date," she had made another request that made sense to her and he had agreed.

"Just one suggestion, okay?" Gina sounded very serious until she added,

"Tea equals crying and feelings and crying. Coffee this time. Or Diet Coke at least. Promise me."

"I promise, Betty said


The woman sat in her living room, reading the new "Bones" novel by Kathy Reichs. Her longish auburn hair was pulled back by two Jade barettes, and she was wearing new pearl studs, which she had treated herself to for her thirtieth birthday.

Her legs were curled up under her and covered by her navy denim skirt. It was a little cool for July, and she had forgotten to turn the air conditioner off that morning, so her sleeveless cotton shirt was covered by a nice wool shawl that she had found at the consignment shop next to her work. She had a cup of mint tea sitting on the table next to her, and a large tabby tomcat sat on the couch next to her, sleeping peacefully.

It had been a good day. Her fifth date, and she had a wonderful time listening as her companion talked about her own day helping a struggling teen get an interview with a college counselor about their programs for ADHD students. And she talked to her friend about the great day she had. Two kittens saved out of a litter of six, and one new patient to the practice, a frisky bull terrier, who had to be bathed after getting too close to a skunk. They talked about their growing friendship and what might happen; just two girls sharing stories and hopes and dreams over pizza and diet coke. And she was no longer nervous about her appearance, so she spent less time looking in the mirror. If she had, however, she would have noted, as you would too, that she had the prettiest smile you would ever want to see.


Even When You’re Feeling Blue (Fred M Rogers)

It had been over a week since she had spoken to her friend. Things sometimes get hectic and inattention is mistaken for rejection. Perhaps you might have had that happen. I know I have.

She looked in the mirror, but her newly rediscovered smile was lost and nowhere to be found. She seemed sad, but she couldn't identify what was bothering her. She had spent time with her friend, and she thought things were going well.

Maybe she was mistaken. Like so many of her sisters, she was having not only second thoughts, but third, fourth and fifth thoughts as well. She started by taking the pearl studs from her ear lobes. They were placed on the dresser.

Perhaps they could be returned; she still had the receipt. She took off her clothes and tossed them unceremoniously on the bed. She went into the bathroom and climbed into the shower.


"Hi, I’m Gina Kelly. I'm here to pick up Rocco." Gina said, offering her hand to the man standing behind the counter.

She looked at him and "sized him up." He stood about 5'9" and had dark brown eyes. He did look somewhat like an Italian Elijah Wood, but his hair was cut short, unlike Betty's description.

"Andy DiMaggio, Dr. Kelly." Andy took note to accord Gina professional recognition and used her title. "Rocco's good to go. He has just a little respiratory problem, but the shot I gave him, along with these pills, should see him through. He's a great dog... lots of personality." Andy handed Gina the pill bottle and the bill.

"This is way too little, Dr. DiMaggio," Gina said, returning the favor. "I'm sure I owe you more."

"Nonsense! Betty's a good friend, and I'm happy to extend that friendship. Besides, I consider it a privilege to work with such a fine animal," he said, waving his hand in Rocco's direction.

"Well, thank you; that’s very kind of you." Gina said. She was going to ask him to dinner, since Betty was coming over Friday night, but remembered that Ben was out of town at a conference in Princeton until Saturday. She'd make a note for a boy-girl dinner next week sometime; perhaps after church on Sunday.


"He's very attractive, but not at all like I imagined. I mean, I expected Merry and Pippin to at least greet me at the door." Gina teased Betty. She smiled politely, but didn't laugh at what Gina thought was a very clever joke.

Betty was mulling over Gina's previous words, which described in detail his appearance, including his SHORT hair.

Betty wondered what was going on, since she had actually made a point of telling him how gorgeous his hair was.

"What's wrong, Betty. I can't get much cleverer than that, and you hardly laughed." Of course, Gina didn't feel upset over the slight; she just noted that Betty was lost in thought.

"Oh, I don't know. Andy seems a little distant lately. I don't think it has anything to do with me, but I'm just not sure. I know he was a little upset to hear that Carrie (his ex who had remarried) was pregnant. He told me she had said that she never wanted kids; his kids. And to find out she's going to have a baby? I think it got to him. But I still don't know.

Betty wasn't too far from the truth, but it involved much more than that. Gina came up with a brilliant idea.

"Here's a thought....perhaps....you could....ask him."


Andy sat on his couch. He had tried to read the novel he got from the library, but it just didn't hold his interest.

His Bible lay open face down on the couch next to him; covered by a very content tabby. He decided against disturbing Daniel; more out of a fear that he wouldn't find anything helpful rather than upsetting the cat. He was mistaken on both counts, but we won't fault him; God certainly wouldn't, and Daniel would just roll over and purr for the attention anyway. He turned and looked out his front window, as if someone was expected, but no visitors would be paying a call that day.

For the first time in several months, he felt sorry for himself. He can be excused for that, even though he really didn't have much to be sorry for. He just fell into the trap that we sometimes do when we don't tell those we love how we feel, and we misunderstand what they have or haven't said.


"I'll be back to take your order," the waitress said as she deposited their drinks on the table. Andy sat across from Betty, but his mind was elsewhere. She stared at him as he looked out the window into the parking lot. She didn't feel slighted; he wasn't really ignoring her, but was lost in what looked a lot like doubt. His appearance underlined that idea since his long auburn hair had been cut very short. She normally wasn't a confrontational person, but she felt he needed her to ask anyway.

"Andy, why did you cut your hair? I thought you liked it longer." She wasn't criticizing him; it was his hair after all. It just seemed that his decision was more than just impulsive.

"I guess I needed a change." He wasn't lying. He really didn't know why, even though deep down, if he thought about it, with the right amount of time, he would have figured it out. We all do. Betty had not made a big deal of his cross dressing either way. She had been accepting and had even encouraged his alter-ego Andrea to "visit" on their fifth date. (It was an evening in; "she" wasn't ready for prime time.) She felt it was a way of getting to know the whole person better. After all, Andrea was a part of him, and she wanted to know all of him. And she wanted to get to know him much more than that. She wasn't normally confrontational, as I said, but she confronted him anyway.

"I don't think so, Andy." She said it softly, but she was direct. "I think you thought you HAD to cut your hair."

She actually grabbed his hand and pulled it. "I think you loved your hair, but for some reason, you felt someone or something else wanted you to cut it."

"Can we talk about something else?" Andy asked rudely. He was embarrassed and it started to show in his cheeks, which were growing red.

The dinner came. The food was hot; the waitress was charming and warm; the restaurant was cool; and the conversation was ice cold.


He dropped her at her place and went home. She had intended to help him, but her words had the opposite effect. He went straight to his computer as soon as he got home. Clicking on his photo page, he deleted everything and closed his account. He was weeping, as if he had lost a best friend or a sister. Actually he had, since Andrea was as much a part of him as his love for animals or his kindness. Even if Betty had expected him to purge this part of him, she would have been wrong on multiple levels. But she actually understood and accepted Andrea as part of his being.

Truth be told, like some other women you may have met, she actually enjoyed Andrea's company, but that really shouldn't be a complete surprise. She was a caring, compassionate and loving person, and Andrea, as part of Andy, was entirely worthy of care, compassion, and love.


"Can I ask you a question?" Betty said.

"Counting that one?" Gina started to tease, but she saw that Betty was upset and immediately changed her tone. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. Of course."

"I have a secret that I really wasn't asked not to share, but I feel I might betray someone if I share it." Betty looked at Gina, who responded.

"And you don't really have anyone else to turn to." Gina tilted her head slightly and continued. "Ask yourself this question: if I share this, will the other person be hurt or helped?"

"I think that he might be okay with it." Betty winced when she realized she used the pronoun "he," but Gina had that figured out already.


After a week of missed calls and phone tag, Betty was frustrated. She decided to get in her nesting mode. She was going through a box she had intended to take to school when she came across an old cassette she had kept from when she worked at the elementary school where she first started. It seemed like an odd coincidence given their "Mr. Rogers" connection, but the Director in this drama, like we’ve seen, perhaps had planned all along for her to find it. She listened to the lyrics as the old tape played for the last time before getting jammed in her player.

It's you I like, It's not the things you wear, It's not the way you do your hair--
But it's you I like the way you are right now, the way down deep inside you–
Not the things that hide you; not your toys-- They're just beside you.
But it's you I like-- Every part of you; your skin, your eyes, your feelings
Whether old or new; I hope that you'll remember
Even when you're feeling blue that it's you I like.

A look of recognition and realization passed over her face as Betty realized she needed to hear this one more time; not only for her friend’s benefit but her own.


Andy rose from the couch as his front door opened. Betty stood in the doorway with two bags of Chinese takeout and a bottle of Merlot. He had just gotten off the phone with her after telling her he wasn't hungry. She walked in and put the food and wine down on his kitchen table.

"I don't know what's going on. I don't understand what's going on. I don't care...I do care, but I can't care so much about what's going on that I can't just care for you." She grabbed his hand.

"You can't just shut me out after all this time. I don't know where you stand, but I know where I stand." She looked at him as if to say, "Here goes nothing," and she kissed him; perhaps more passionately and fully than she had ever kissed anyone in her life. He was so shocked that he actually forgot to kiss back...for just a few moments. When their lips parted, he was about to say something. She put her finger on his lips to shush him.

"Me first! Jackie would go through times when he didn't know who he was and what he wanted. I came home from school one time and I found the clothes Marta and I had loaned him on my bed in a pile. He was in his room, crying." She held his hands in hers and continued.

"He never felt he measured up to Daddy, and when he dressed, I think part of him felt even worse. Daddy was in the Air Force and was gone most of the time, and when he was home he was....an Air Force colonel. I mean, Daddy loved him and all, but imagine being a teenage boy in a dress with a Dad who flies planes and blows up things. So he got rid of the dresses and started reading books about planes and stuff. But it wasn't him; and it certainly wasn't… her. Jackie was a great kid. He was as good a son as anybody, and he never knew that. When he....we didn't know why, but Marta figured it out after talking with his girlfriend."

Betty would have cried over this, but she was on a roll, and she didn't want to stop until Andy understood. "His girlfriend said that he never felt...good enough. I guess we never understood that side of him. We were just kids. They were just kids. She tried to help him understand that he was good enough, but she could never get him to understand that." She looked at him, her eyes widening in anger, but not at him but at the utter waste. "Do you understand?"

Andy looked at her and felt ashamed. All the things he thought he had dealt with came back like a flood. We never get over everything entirely. Some things need to be healed quickly and surgically. Other things need to be healed slowly, sort of like backing out of a narrow alley after going the wrong way. And sometimes we need someone behind us to tell us we're going in the right direction.

"You messed up your first marriage for a whole bunch of reasons. I understand that. After talking with you, I'm pretty sure that you've either fixed the problems or are in the process. But this isn't one of them." She actually put her hand on the top of his head and tousled his hair. He winced and tried to pull away.

"Fine," she said. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she would not be stopped. "Maybe you shouldn't wear your hair long; maybe you shouldn't wear dresses. Maybe you should have been a farmer or a cop or an architect instead of a vet. Maybe you shouldn't have pets or friends or family or love."

She was trying to be sarcastic because she was angry. She was angry because her brother killed himself over something stupid. He wasn't stupid, but he felt so utterly hopeless over something so small. She was angry at herself and she felt a little guilty, and she was wrong, but that was something they'd both sort out together.

"I...I repeat...I…don't… care. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I love you." She stopped when she realized what she had just said. In her entire life, even when she was engaged to Don, she had never used those three words that way. "I love you," she said softly. She looked at him and he looked at her. He might struggle from time to time gaining acceptance and forgiveness from the woman in his mirror. He might feel the need from time to time to lock his door. But he would never again need to worry about being accepted by the woman before him. He still appeared confused as she pulled him toward her for a hug they both needed.

"I love you,' she said again.


She sat on the couch, her Bible safely tucked in between her and the cushion. She and her best friend had just gotten back after a nice visit with some new friends. Never a very social person, her friend had convinced her that she was loved and accepted, prompting a rare excursion outside. She found out that her new friends were a lot like her, and she actually could enjoy life outside of her home and job. Her friend, who was now much more than just a friend, snuggled against her side in quiet sleep; a nice nap after a good meal with good company. She smoothed her skirt and absentmindedly went to brush back her auburn hair, which was only recently and ill-advisedly cut short. No mind; hair can grow back. A large tabby tom cat argued with little success with the female cat nestled between the two women on the couch. And both women had the prettiest smiles you'd ever want to see.


Surprise!

"You sure about this?" Gina asked Betty. She wasn’t questioning her judgment. After being married to "two" people for almost two years, Gina was pretty sure nothing much could surprise her. But Betty did.

"Well, it’s more than just that." She and Gina had been talking about her engagement to Andy.

After a long courtship and a short engagement, the wedding was only weeks away, but a new wrinkle had been added. "And before you interrupt, it was my idea." You may remember that Gina had participated in an unusual wedding photo shoot.

Her best friend’s mother-in-law Marie had requested that all of her girlfriends attend a nice reception in her home for her daughter Maired, who looked positively gorgeous in the most exquisite strapless gown for her bridal photos. Except that Maired was her son Mark, the surviving twin of his sister Maura, who had passed away in her teens. No one knew at the time, but Marie was in "final" stage of pancreatic cancer, and had wanted this time as a way of honoring her late daughter’s memory, and everyone was happy to participate, including Gina’s husband Ben, who attended the Bride as his alter-ego Katie. I know, it is rather confusing, but apparently all the women weren’t confused at all. The only "male" participant was the ringer bearer, Rocco, who also happened to be a frisky bull terrier.
Betty’s idea was that she and Andy were going to have two ceremonies; at least for the sake of their wedding photos.

Her sister Marta had agreed to be her matron-of-honor, and was in on the conspiracy, since she hadn’t quite shared this idea with Andy. Either way, she wanted Gina to "give the bride away," for the sake of the second wedding.

"I love him so much, and I know that it’s sorta crazy, but I think I understand about you and Katie. Unlike some women, Betty and Marta had experienced cross-dressing first hand with their brother Jackie, and were entirely comfortable with "Andrea." She felt that it would make everything special if they were to "share" the day with her, and it would even be more special if she had help from her friends.


"Of course you’re invited, Mrs. Giordano."

Andy was scratching Angelo’s ear after removing a piece of metal from the pad on his paw. He licked Andy’s face in appreciation before hopping off the table.

"I just knew Betty was special the day you talked to her on the phone. You were so nervous, and I could see something was "brewing." Mrs. Giordano grinned, and Angelo wagged his tail as Andy patted his back.

"She’s the most wonderful woman in the world," He said, but quickly added, "Next to you, of course." Mrs. Giordano was eighty-five, and didn’t look a day over seventy.

"I remember what it was like with my Angelo," She said; her Angelo being her husband of forty-six years until he passed. Her Airedale was named in honor of him, but even at eighty-five, she never confused the two.

"I pray that God blesses you even more than me and my husband, God rest his soul." Andy nodded in thanks and Angelo wagged his tail in approval.


"Andy, can you come here for a moment?" Betty called from the kitchen. They were fixing up her late aunt’s house, which had been rented to some nice tenants until recently. She worked it out with the rest of the family, and she and Andy were buying the home. Andy walked up the basement stairs and entered the kitchen. Betty was sitting at the kitchen table; two mugs of coffee sat in front of her.

"What do you think of this dress, sweetheart?" She pointed to a bridal magazine that was open on the table.

"I thought you already had your gown. Besides, isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the ceremony?" Andy looked puzzled, and his confusion grew as he saw what seemed to be an odd grin appear on his intended’s face.

"It is bad luck, I suppose, for the GROOM to see the dress." Andy was a fairly intelligent fellow. A degree in veterinary medicine. Well read and up on current events. But this was like where someone waves their hand over their head to visually represent someone "not getting it."

"I don’t follow you. Well actually, I’d follow you anywhere. I don’t understand." He said, stating the obvious.

"Honey….Sweetie…Darling." I’m sure you may know some folks that unintentionally use these three names in various permutations to indicate that they WANT something. That point wasn’t missed by Andy, who said,

"Okay, what do you want?" Betty’s grin grew more sheepish as she looked at the photo in the magazine and then back at Andy, as if eyeing him up and down.

"Oh," was all he could come up with at the moment.


"I’d be honored," the sweet blond said with a smile. She had gotten quite used to her lover’s "schemes," as some might call them. She had become very adept with her friend Erica at "Lucy and Ethel" conspiracies, and they were always clever, intriguing, challenging and downright fun.

"Well…." Gina hesitated before continuing. "You don’t mind hot pink?"


A few days later, the church was full of friends and family as Elizabeth Patricia Aberlin stood next to Gina at the Altar looking with absolute love at her soon-to-be husband, Andrew Michael DiMaggio. And while she didn’t look quite like Cate Blanchett, she was gorgeous. Her groom, however, looked just like a taller, Italian and much more handsome version of Elijah Wood.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" The minister asked. A tall graying gentleman stood behind his daughter. She had requested that he wear his dress uniform, even though he was retired. He stepped closer to the altar with his daughter and said proudly,

"Her mother and I do."


About a week after the happy couple returned from their honeymoon, another wedding party assembled in the couple’s new home. The bride was resplendent in a gorgeous off-the-shoulder gown with full skirt. Her gloved hands held a single white rose. Her brunette hair was down around her shoulders, adorned with a simple white tiara. She was glowing, as all brides should on their wedding day. On her right, her sister wore a long satin gown in cobalt blue. To her sister’s right, her best friend wore the same gown, only in wine, which complemented her raven-colored hair.

To the bride’s far left, a sweet blond haired girl stood, wearing an absolutely stunning hot pink gown in the same style as the other women. It was her second time as a bridesmaid, and she felt much more comfortable this time around. And to the bride’s immediate left stood another gorgeous woman with long auburn hair, which fell to her unadorned shoulders. Her own gown was a near- duplicate of the bride on her right, but her own gloved hands clutched a single red rose. Her best friend’s mother was behind the camera, assisted by a sweet, eighty-five year old lady. And sitting happily in front of the wedding party were a fairly large Airedale and a frisky bull-terrier, both of whom wore bow ties.


Crossroads

Betty sat at the vanity, brushing her long brunette hair. Andy lay on the bed, reading a magazine.

"Sweetheart would you..." Betty was about to ask Andy to come brush her hair, but she stopped, recalling the memory associated with that action. Andy's mother would sit in front of the TV, drunk or mostly drunk each night. She had used Andy as a surrogate for her husband, including in the bedroom, and she had her "daughter" brush her hair every night as they watched her programs before they would "retire" for the night.

"Would you mind getting me a cup of tea?" She quickly added.

"Not a problem, my love, but I really don’t mind brushing your beautiful hair." He said.
The tea was getting cold on the dresser as Betty and Andy talked.

"At least consider it honey," Betty said. She had reversed positions with her husband combing his hair, which was almost as long as hers. Being a veterinarian instead of a policeman or an accountant had many perks, not least of which was a very loose "dress" code, if you pardon the pun. The best part of his job, however, was meeting kind and caring people and helping them with their beloved pets. It was almost a passion with Andy, and Betty loved that part about him. But she appreciated much, much more about him. She looked at her spouse with as much love as one person can have for another and said again,

"Just think about it, okay?"

"No!" The word came effortlessly, even if it wasn't completely accompanied by conviction.

"Honey," she said, rubbing his shoulders. At another time, with someone else, her actions might have appeared manipulative, but her intent at the moment was guided purely by her love for him. Most would not have considered what she had suggested, much less proposed it. But Betty Aberlin DiMaggio wasn't most people. Married for just six months, she had concluded that her idea was not only good for Andy, but it was something she wanted as well. Andy wasn't so sure, but it wasn't because he didn't want it. He just didn't feel that anything he would actually want could be something he could have. She almost read his mind as she said,

"You married me, didn't you? Wasn't that a good idea?" She said this to encourage him. Andy really needed no prompting regarding his decision to marry Betty. He had the support of friends and he was entirely, madly in love with his new wife. Apart from that, however, he had absolutely no confidence in his own decision making processes. He still was dogged by the vestige of guilt left from the failure of his first marriage, and despite the miracle that stood before him in the form of his beautiful bride, he still worried that he couldn't deserve anything good...at least anything that he actually wanted.

She continued to rub his shoulders. She kissed his forehead, and he noticed she had tears in her eyes. She loved him so much, and she wanted the best for him. Actually she wanted the best for them, which was not at all selfish; it was what actually made sense to her and likely to him, if he could only get past his...past.

"Honey, think about this, if you can't think about anything else. You have punished yourself enough over the past. It's time to move on and think about us. She forgave you. It's time you forgave yourself."


She stood at the mirror, as many do; many of us, in fact. Her lover joined her and smiled in the mirror. She looked at herself, wishing her hair was longer after once again cutting it short to suit someone else; it really didn't matter, at least to the woman beside her. She was loved by the woman who loved her too much to care. And as we know, hair can grow back. Her lover nuzzled and kissed her neck, which sent chills down her spine. They were both dressed for bed, which would come soon enough. She liked that her own gown matched her lover's, save for the color. Her lover wore black, which made her look almost mysterious. She wore a pale blue, which made her feel innocent, even if for the moment.

She felt anything but innocent, and it took a great deal of attention to her back and shoulders by the woman beside her to help her forget her anxiety.

"I love you with all my heart," her lover whispered softly in her ear, remembering to nibble a bit before returning her attention to her lover's shoulders. She felt weak as her lover scratched her back lightly with her long nails, and she almost felt ashamed at the emotions that seemingly threatened to overwhelm her until her lover said,

"No matter what you decide; I'm here for you, now and always, and I'm not going anywhere. The woman grabbed her by the hands and turned her around. She felt hands exploring her, enjoying her, and she gave into the passion of the moment.


"You know, you shouldn't have to pay me, Mrs. G." Andy said

"Nonsense! Angelo is receiving the best of care," she said as she patted her Airedale on the head. "You are a professional, doing a professional job. You deserve to be paid." She grinned and added, "Now, if you want to give me a senior’s discount, I don't think I'd argue." Mrs. Giordano was eighty-five, but as you might already know, she didn't look a day over seventy.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Andy."

"Have you ever had to make a decision that would change your life?"

"Every day, Andy, every day." She laughed and smiled a grandmotherly smile.

"I'm...I..." The words stuck in his mouth, refusing to come out. He looked almost tired, which was probably right, since he had been wrestling with the decision for nearly a week. Betty supported him entirely, whatever his choice would eventually be, but he remained stuck until Mrs. G. helped him focus.

"Do you remember when you were little? Your mom would send you out first thing...." She left the rest unsaid. Andy's mom wouldn't "collect" him until almost dinner time. She was an alcoholic; her inebriation surpassed only by her husband, Andy's dad. At least Andy's dad only yelled at him and smacked him around once and a while. When Andy's mom wasn't abusing him, she neglected him. His only refuge for most of his childhood was the occasional milk, cookies or lunch with Mrs. G, who would have intervened if she had known to what degree Andy's hurt extended.

"You were doing a jigsaw puzzle with my Angelo (her late husband, not the dog. She never confused the two) and you were getting frustrated. Do you remember what he said?"

Tears filled Andy's eyes. Like some of us, perhaps all too many of us, in fact, Andy had a very difficult time remembering the good times in his childhood. They were there, of course, but the bad memories often overwhelmed or obscured the good ones. He needed help remembering, that's all.

"Just work on what you can; we'll find the right pieces in time, son." The word, "son," brought back a warmth that Andy had not felt in a long, long time. "Do you remember?"

"Yes," Andy said, wanting to, but not really completely apprehending the moment.

"Well, it's time...this is one of those times, and you about to find the right pieces."

"I don't understand."

"At the wedding," she was referring, not to the "first" wedding, which was absolutely wonderful, but to the "second, special" wedding attended only by a privileged few.

"You looked happier at that moment than at any other time since I've know you, and I've known you all your life. At that moment, with your friends surrounding you and your beautiful bride at your side, you finally looked at peace." You may recall that there were two brides at the second wedding, at the first bride's insistence.

"I know you are at a crossroads, sweetheart, and I absolutely trust that you and Betty will take the road that is just right for both of you."

"Andy turned away and covered his face and wept in shame. She stepped closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder, and kissed him with a grandmotherly kiss. But even now, he couldn't imagine that he could be happy. Mrs. Giordano, however, by her years of friendship and support, had earned the right, the responsibility and even the authority to say what she said next,

"Andrea...sweetie, It's okay!"


The doctor wore a nice wine-colored shirt-dress, covered by a white lab coat. Her auburn hair fell to just below her shoulders, and her makeup made her look more like a model than a veterinarian, which she was. She smiled at the woman and her dog. She had been working at the hospital for only about a month, but had already made the clientele believe that the practice was now in capable, if not entirely "new" hands. The sign on the wall behind the counter had recently been changed, now reading, "Second Chances Animal Hospital and Refuge."

"Let's just see how she's doing, shall we," the doctor said softly. She looked the dog over and did a cursory examination, already knowing what was "ailing" the Beagle.
"She's been lethargic, but she's still eating," the woman pointed to her dog. The doctor leaned forward, allowing the dog to wash her face with her tongue.

"Is there a male anywhere near her at home? The doctor asked with a grin.

"There's a Sheltie that lives across the street." No sooner than the words had left her mouth when she realized what she had just said. She looked at her dog, who looked back at her almost apologetically.

"Daisy...You didn't?!"


She arrived home at about seven-fifteen. She took off her lab coat and hung it by the front door. "Good," she said to herself, noting the Chinese take-out and Merlot sitting on the kitchen counter. Both of them would have had long days, so tonight was not an evening for cooking. She walked down the hallway and entered the bedroom. Her lover lay asleep on top of the covers; her Bible was open and soft music played in the background. She grabbed the comforter and covered the sleeping woman gently. Leaning over, she kissed her lover on the forehead, quickly followed by a nice kiss on the lips, evoking an almost 'purr' from the woman.

"I love you my dear sweet wife," she said, kissing her on the cheek before turning to leave the room. The woman in bed awoke and looked at her lover. She smiled sweetly, and drifted back into an well-earned nap, but not before saying,

"And I love you with all my heart, my sweet darling husband."



An Unexpected Visit

Andrea sat at her desk, writing down the information from the salesperson for the new anti-flea medicine. She would look up the product on her computer to check how well it was being received. The bell at the front counter rang, and Andrea said,

"Patti, would you mind getting the front?"

"Sorry, Dr. D, but Peggy Lee is dropping kittens big time."

"That's okay, sweetie, I'll get it." She got up from her desk, causing a very large tom tabby to jump from her lap.

She walked to the front, where she discovered a woman with her back facing away from the counter, handing the toddler in the baby seat a rattle. A medium size cat carrier sat on the floor next to the little boy.

"Good afternoon, how may I help you," she said sweetly, for that was what she was, sweet; even if she didn't feel that about herself. The woman turned around, and faced Andy eye to eye; they were the same height. At once both Andrea and the woman froze in recognition.

"Carrie?" Andrea said, and immediately she stepped back, somewhat out of surprise, but mostly out of shame.

"Andy?" The woman said softly, without the tone that Andrea was expecting. Carrie was his, rather her ex-wife.

"Yes...I'm sorry," she said, not knowing really what to say to the person whose heart was broken by her abuse. Yes, I did say she was sweet, but the person Carrie knew only a few years was completely different than the woman who faced her that afternoon. And I really don't just mean by how Andrea was dressed. You may recall that Andrea was married to Carrie as Andy, and that Carrie had left him because of his inability to control his temper. A victim of abuse himself; Andy didn't get any help for his problem until after it was really too late to save the marriage. These memories overloaded Andrea, and she backed away even further. She said,

"I'll get someone else to help you," and she turned, continuing, "Patti, would you mind coming here for a moment. I'll help out back there, please." Patti didn't hear Andrea since she was "knee deep" in kittens and Peggy Lee was already growling in her protective mama cat mode. It didn't matter, because Carrie surprised Andrea. She stepped forward and placed her hand gently on Andrea's arm and said,

"It's okay, Andy...really." Andrea couldn't handle it in spite of Carrie's efforts to reach out. She turned and walked away in an almost panic and retreated to her office, where she sat at her desk, buried her head in her hands, and wept harder than she had in recent memory.


A soft knock came at the office door, which was almost never closed. Anticipating Patti's request for help, she said softly,

"Come in."

The door opened, but instead of his college intern, Carrie stood in the doorway with her son in her arms. She looked at Andrea and smiled. Andrea wasn't prepared for what happened next, and who would have been?

"Andy, it's okay. Really.” She could have said it a million times and Andrea would still have been overwhelmed by the guilt and shame she felt, despite the fact that she was really a new person, and not just on the outside. Carrie stepped to the desk and put her hand on Andrea's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I really should have asked first. What's your name?" Andrea looked at her in wonder, and the word stuck in her mouth. She would never have expected a visit by her ex-wife, and she absolutely would never have expected her to ask what her name was. She swallowed and said nervously,

"Andrea...Andrea Lena, after Nonny," she said, referring to her late grandmother.

"That's pretty. It...suits you." She smiled again, and Andrea was confused. Carrie added to the confusion by saying,

"It's good seeing you." Andrea looked at her, remembering their last conversation ended when Carrie abruptly hung up the phone. And then the memory of their last meeting came back swiftly and painfully.


"I can't do this anymore, Andy. I love you...I always will, but I can't take your yelling and your temper." She stood in the driveway, her suitcases already in the car.

"I'm going over to Mom's...I need some time...don't call...don't come over."
His eyes pled for forgiveness, but his fists were balled up, and he was shaking. A chair from the front porch lay broken on the ground by the front steps.

"I thought we could work this out." He cried. He was truly, absolutely sincere, but it was the same as every other time, so why would she put herself through this anymore?

"I don't know. I just can't do this right now. You can call over at Mom's in a couple of weeks, if I don't call you first. I promise Mom won't change her number, but you have to give me time.”

"But...we were...I thought you wanted to have kids." Adding children into this already volatile mix would have solved no problems and probably added more stress and frustration to an already hopeless situation. She didn't mean to...she actually didn't mean to say it, but she was so hurt and scared and angry and sad, so she said.

"I don't want kids anymore...I don't want your kids, Andy!" There was really nothing to be said after that, and she got into the car and drove off. It was the last time Andy saw Carrie save for the court appearance to legally bury the marriage that had been dead for months. And she didn't talk with him on the phone unless it was to discuss final stuff like bills and such; Andy could count on one hand the times he talked with her.


"Andrea," Carrie said, thankfully interrupting the painful recollection. "Andrea, I didn't know you were still here. The ad in the yellow pages said "Second Chances" instead of Ardmore Veterinary Hospital." I really would never have come here if I'd known, but now that I'm here I'm glad I did."

Andrea dreaded Carrie's next words, expecting the worst. What happened next was extremely freeing for both women.

"Will you forgive me?" Andrea wondered why she would ask forgiveness for the visit until Carrie continued.

"I am so sorry I hurt you. I am so...so...sorry." Her eyes misted up, but she continued.

"I want you to meet someone. Joshua, this is your," she paused for a moment, but a smile came across her face despite her tears, and she said,

"Aunt Andrea." She looked at Andrea and the tears flowed even freer than before. "I was so cruel to you, and I knew just what set you off. I know you were responsible for your part, and I forgave you, but I went through the motions until my pastor reminded me that I really needed to forgive you as much for me as for you. And he reminded me that I needed to walk it out, even if I didn't feel it. "As if," he put it. "Say, 'I forgive" you,' even if you don't feel it, until you do.' But I need you to forgive me for my hate toward you. It didn't do me any good, and I know it hurt you; I can't begin to make it up to you, but I know Someone who can help us."

Andrea would have at one time even in the recent past grown angry at the disappointment and hurt, but she had spent years with her own counselor, friends and folks in church learning to behave and feel and think better. She went to a physician, and she discovered that there was no shame in receiving help. So two women; both who saw each other as adversaries at one time, now looked at each other in the light of forgiveness and love.
She really didn't feel "worthy" enough to offer forgiveness to the one person in the world she had loved at one time more than any other, but she knew that it wasn't about her or even Carrie, but really about the One who offered forgiveness to them both.

"I am so sorry, Carrie. Thank you for loving me and forgiving me. I forgive you." Andrea had composed herself, and she thought she was through crying until Carrie stepped forward. With her left hand, she rubbed her arm and stepped in to kiss her on the cheek, which would have been enough to get anyone bawling. But while she was holding her arm, her son Joshua, who was wrapped by her right arm, leaned over and rubbed Andrea's cheek with his little hand, wiping away a single tear.


"Honey, sweetie? I'm home." Betty said as she walked in the front door. Traffic was pretty decent, so they both got home at a reasonable hour. Hearing no response, she walked into the kitchen where she found Andrea with her head resting on the table on her hands. She was crying, but not weeping hard. These tears were cleansing and a gift; Betty had seen enough of this working with the teens at the high school to recognize a breakthrough. She stepped next to Andrea and kissed her on the top of her head and stroked her hair once before stepping back.

"I'll order out and we can talk when you're ready.'


They lay on the couch, ready for bed. Betty wore a nice long pink satin robe over ivory satin PJ's. Betty usually was the one to put her head on Andrea's shoulder, but she held Andrea's head in her lap, stroking her long auburn hair. Andrea wore a nice waist-length bone colored robe over green satin shorts and top.

"I don't think I ever felt that...peaceful before. It was like nothing I've ever known."

Betty knew how she felt. After years of self-doubt and self-hate, she received the grace to forgive herself. She went to the father of the baby she aborted. He was a married man who had actually wanted her to raise the child with his help. She had turned her back on him and on her own baby, so to speak, and suffered for years over the understandable but forgivable guilt. She asked for his forgiveness, expecting nothing, but he asked for her forgiveness instead, wanting her to know how badly he felt that she was placed in that situation because of his indifference and selfishness. They parted, not as friends per se, but as dear ones who would treasure the forgiveness they had received and given.

Andrea and Betty fell asleep on the couch, nestled in each other's arms like the two precious lovers they were. And the love they shared would bear them up over the next several days as things changed dramatically in one instant for Andrea.


The large blond haired man walked up to the counter and hit the bell, causing Daniel Tiger to look up, get up and walk around in a circle and sit down and fall asleep.

"I'm here to pick up my dog. My wife said he's ready. Rex." He almost spat as he said the dog's name. Patti came from the examination room and said that the doctor was just putting on his new flea collar and that she would be out in a moment.

"Dammit...she said he was ready," he said rudely, although few people can say the word "dammit" loudly and sound anything but rude. He wasn't finished. Andrea came from the back and placed the dog, a pit bull, on the counter. The man looked at the dog and appeared to be satisfied. But he looked up and saw Andrea standing there. The man looked at Andrea and said,

"Sonafabitch! Get your hands off my dog you pervert!" He snatched the dog from Andrea's arms, causing the dog's collar to catch on her lab coat, ripping it. "Send me the bill. And don't expect me to come back, you damn sissy!"

She was anything but a sissy. She nonetheless felt the need to cry, but kept her composure until the man was out of the building. It didn't really help that Patti came quickly to her side and placed her hand on Andrea's back for comfort; we all know what will happen to most of us when we're trying hard not to cry, and it happened to Andrea, leaving Patti scurrying around the clinic looking for tissue.


"I'm so sorry for the way my husband treated you." The woman stood at the counter offering her hand to Andrea.

"I'm sorry, too, Mrs. Banfield. Rex nearly pulled out his stitches. Have you had him seen?" Andrea had given up on seeing the dog again, considering how his "master" treated her.

"He's okay. It's Tim I'm worried about." Andrea had no sympathy for Mrs. Banfield's husband until she shared the following.

"Tim's not like that, he really isn't. Oh, he's rude and loud, but I knew that when I married him. It's just...." She looked at Andrea and her eyes pled for forgiveness as she said. "Tim's little brother Billy killed himself last year. Billy was such a nice kid, but he never got any support from home when he transitioned." Andrea looked at her in surprise.

"She wanted her family to love her, but they didn't. And Tim feels guilty about it, since their last words were in anger, and he probably called her the same thing he called you. Please forgive him?"

Andrea wanted to be angry with Tim Banfield, but her conscience wouldn't let her. After the gift that Carrie had given her by forgiving her for years of abuse, who was she to remain angry over an insult; especially someone who was stuck with his own shame and guilt over the loss of a brother. Tears came to her eyes as she appreciated the enormity of the gift her ex-wife had given her, and she looked at Mrs. Banfield, whose eyes were at least as teary as her own. She took a deep breath, not for courage, since she had already received that, but to say what she needed to say without interruption.

"I am so sorry I was angry. My God, he must feel so sad and scared. Betty and I will be praying for healing for your family, and tell him how sorry I am. Please let him know I forgive him." She looked at Mrs. Banfield, whose face went from a contorted pain to a blissful peace in seconds. She smiled at Andrea and shook her hand once again. She wanted to reply but the words got stuck, so she just nodded and smiled, blinking out her remaining tears.


It would be nice to report that everything came together like a movie or a play, but things actually got worse, if only for a little while. Tim Banfield never accepted Andrea's forgiveness, and by the end of the month, the clinic's business was down nearly fifty percent after Banfield spread his venom around the neighborhood. It really was to his own detriment, however, since he never really resolved his own guilt regarding his brother, at least for a few more years, and his ulcer likely arose from the bitterness and anger he still held for his brother and himself. You may have heard this quote from Malachy McCourt. He says something like, "Resentment is like me drinking poison and expecting the other guy to keel over."

Andrea and Betty decided to deal with the loss of business the only way they knew how. Each customer was the recipient of a nice hand-written note thanking them for their continued support and offering them a discount for the next visit by puppy or kitty or bunny, et al. It might seem to be a good business tactic, and it probably was, but they actually were grateful for the friendship and support of their remaining customers over the continued business. And it didn't hurt that Mrs. Schwartz forgot to bring Daisy in after her last litter; the Sheltie across the street was madly in love with the girl.


Andrea looked at the Kelly green full skirted dress that hung in her closet. She pulled it off the hanger and tossed it on the bed just as Betty entered the bedroom. After what happened the previous week she feared the worst. She’d seen cut hair and discarded clothing enough over the last year to be worried. Looking Andrea straight in the eye; she said,

"You're not intending to get rid of this," she said, pointing to the dress on the bed.

"Tell me, Andrea Lena DiMaggio."

"I am," she said softly. Betty looked at her almost dreading the next words until Andrea continued,

"Mrs. G. said how much she liked it, and since we're about the same size, I figured she’d enjoy it." Andrea tried to suppress a giggle. "Besides, I got two lovely floral print shirt-dresses half off at Macy's. Which do you want, blue or coral?


...and Tim Banfield's story continues in Providence — the Novella

My Redeemer

Here I go again; I’m thinking of the time that I will stand
And look into the eyes of my redeemer

Faith is an interesting thing; it needs to be watered and fed like a lovely tree or flower. And it can wither under the heat and drought of loss and pain. As you may already know, Betty DiMaggio was a fairly resilient person. Her faith had brought her through a lot in her life, including the death of two siblings as well as a hysterectomy from a botched abortion when she was seventeen. As a high school guidance counselor, she had many children who were all loving and wonderful; just not biological. But she nevertheless stood at her kitchen sink, trying desperately not to cry as she looked out the window.

She tried to forget the news she had heard that morning; one of the students she was working with was gone, a victim of hopelessness and despair. Her name was Hope, ironically, and she had taken her life after making a suicide pact with her boyfriend, who had given her his mom’s prescription drug. Billy didn’t die, however; he never took the drugs. This author is glad he didn't die, but she also remains angry that Billy didn’t care enough to protect her; another irony since his name, William, means protector. Betty was angry, but not at Billy. She was angry at herself and angry at God; feeling quite incorrectly that both should have done something to prevent Hope's death. She was wrong about God, since he had provided a means of rescue for the poor girl; Billy just chose not to follow his conscience.

And she was wrong about herself as well, since she had no idea that how bad things were because Hope never told anyone besides Billy. But at that moment, nothing would persuade her that she wasn't guilty; at least guilty of something; anything. Someone had to pay for the girl's death, and it might as well be her. Betty could find the words to accuse herself, but she ached for the time when she could be thankful once again.

Words won’t come my way but deep inside my silent accolades
I’ll find my voice to sing of my redeemer

A few days later, her wife Andrea sat in the living room, praying for Betty. Betty had been crying most of the day, but wouldn't receive any solace from Andrea. She even threw a magazine at both of their cats when they hopped on the bed that morning. Andrea wondered what would help Betty climb out of her despair. She wasn't a psychologist; her degree was in veterinary medicine; but she knew enough not to expect Betty to "snap out of it." And she also knew that Betty wasn't just feeling guilty about the girl's death. Other things were going on, and they probably had a lot to do with Betty's past, especially in light of recent developments.

You may recall that Andrea and Carrie, her ex-wife (when Andrea was Andy) had reconciled recently. She and her husband and her toddler Joshua had been over to the DiMaggio's for dinner, and while it was a nice time, when they left, Betty looked sad. She confessed that she felt things she hadn't for a long time, and to see Carrie with a beautiful boy made her think about her own life and the choices she had made. She admitted that she was jealous of Carrie and her husband Jim, whom God had blessed with a sweet little boy. But more than that, she was overwhelmed with grief for the death of her own child and ridden with guilt over her responsibility in the act of terminating the only child she would ever bear. And that left Andrea with only one option, but the best; she prayed for her wife as she had never prayed before. Nothing she could say would have the power to restore that only one could wield.

When with his words of light he pulled my dark soul from the night
How can I repay my redeemer?

Betty had been the instrument of peace, as St. Francis encouraged, in Andrea's own redemption as she had reminded Andrea about how they both had been forgiven for the past. But as you may already know, the past is never always in the past, and has a nasty habit of reminding us how bad we were or what horrible things we had done. And her memories were providing her with too many hours of recalling what she had or hadn’t done. She needed no reminders; Betty needed solace and encouragement, and the instrument of her own peace would arise from tragedy.


"Betty, is Andrea there?" Gina's voice sounded almost panicky. Betty had taken some time off to collect herself, and she had expected Gina's call would be to ask when she was returning. She was a little angry, wondering how insensitive Gina must have been to call, but we can forgive her in light of what she herself was going through. She wasn't prepared for Gina's response, however, when she asked,

"Can’t this wait? She's been at the clinic working on the computer update; can’t I just have her call you when she comes home?” It was Saturday afternoon, and Andrea would normally be home unless there was an emergency. It hadn’t occurred to Betty why Gina would want to talk to Andrea instead of her.

"Oh God, Sweetie, I think you need to go get her." Gina sounded as if she had been crying, and her next words revealed the source of her urgency.

"Betty...Carrie's dead." The words didn't quite sink in, almost as if they came from a TV show she forgot to turn down when she answered the phone. This couldn't be right.

"There was a robbery at the Sovereign Bank this morning. It’s all over the TV. Some guy walked in and shot up the place. The News said he didn’t even wait for people to…Oh God…Betty! Carrie and her husband and one of the clerks were shot. They didn't make it. She's gone...Jim's gone. They said that Child Services has the little boy. Oh honey, the bank is just around the block from the clinic. You need to get over there now before she hears about this from someone else." Betty actually dropped the phone. While no one else would have expected it, since it would have been wrong to expect anything from Betty that week, she "snapped out of it," to use an absolutely stupid phrase, probably more out of adrenaline than anything else, but this one moment proved to be transformational; perhaps the defining moment in the renewal of her faith. She picked up the phone and said,

"Could you meet me there?"

"I'm on my way!" Gina said and hung up.


When with his wounded hands he helped my broken heart to understand
I never can repay my Redeemer

Betty grabbed her keys off the table by the front door and started to head out, but not before saying softly, but loud enough for Someone to hear,

"Please forgive me, Lord and give me the strength for this." And for the first time that week, she actually remembered about her own forgiveness, after first admitting that she had been truly guilty for one thing; she had resented Carrie for her ability to bear children and she was more than jealous of Carrie’s life and angry at God while being ungrateful for the life she and Andrea enjoyed together. She leaned against the doorway and wept tears of shame followed by tears of redemption, since acknowledging her shame helped her apprehend her forgiveness. If she had known Carrie better, she would have known that Carrie would have forgiven her. And she knew God well enough to recall that she had already been forgiven. She composed herself and took a deep breath before offering one last prayer; the most important she would ever speak;

“And please send someone to take care of their little boy.” And He would!


And I know upon this earth I’ll never find
The words that can express this heart of mine

Gina and Betty pulled into the parking lot at the same time. Gina had passed the bank on the way over to the clinic, and the Eyewitness News van was just pulling away. The two walked up to the door and embraced each other. Both were crying; they had barely known the couple and mostly through Andrea’s contact with Carrie. But she was someone who was very important to Andrea; a part of a difficult past, to be sure, but Carrie had forgiven Andrea, who as Andy had been abusive during their marriage. She had asked for forgiveness herself for her hatred and bitterness toward Andy, and the two discovered redemption and forgiveness and reconciliation. She and her husband Jim had visited for dinner at Andrea and Betty’s home recently, and Betty had seen just what a lovely person Carrie was.

It was too easy to fall prey to jealousy, especially in light of her own loss. But now, even only minutes after a hastily said prayer, Betty felt the weight of the world lifted off of hers even as she anticipated that it was now being placed squarely and cruelly on Andrea’s.

Betty entered the clinic first. Gina was actually holding her hand as she walked through the door. It was after Saturday hours, but Andrea was not alone. Her assistant Patti had come in for a few hours to help re-paint the exam room and she was standing by the door of Andrea’s office. Her eyes were red with tears; she had met Carrie and her boy Joshua when they brought their cat in a few weeks ago and just fallen in love with the sweet little boy. Patti had turned the TV on in the exam room while she was painting, and was angry with herself that she wasn’t quick enough to turn it off. Mrs. Giordano had seen the report on TV and came over to the clinic immediately. The police had not released the names, but the reporter on the scene was brand new and looking to make a name for himself; he blurted out Carrie’s and Jim’s name over the air, as well as the name of the sweet young lady who was too slow in handing the bank robber the money. She had only been working at the bank for a few weeks. Mrs. G was in the office holding Andrea in a grandmotherly embrace, patting her back as Andrea wept.

Betty walked over to her and pulled her away, only for a moment, from Mrs. G. Her face was a mask of grief; she looked like she had just lost her best friend. Her best friend was staring sadly at her and her other dear friend patted her on the back; but she had just found out that the girl she had grown up with; her childhood sweetheart, had been killed, murdered in fact.

This was a different grief; a loss that was unique. Andrea was deeply in love with Betty; nothing would change that. But some of you may have felt this way; even if a relationship changes and comes to an end, a part of you, a big part of you still feels love for your former love; your humanity demands it since it is true, unencumbered love that should exist well after the “loving” grows cold. Some of you had grandparents who may have stopped having “fun” but never ceased to enjoy each other’s company; the friendship that endures.

Perhaps you enjoy such a love yourself? Carrie had become a sister to Andrea, and her loss was doubly painful since it had only recently been restored. So we understand Andrea’s grief. Mrs. Giordano understood. She knew Carrie from when she and Andy were in middle school. She recalled the love that had grown but wept to see it grow cold as Andy hurt Carrie with his words and his temper. But she rejoiced only recently to see the two friends again, of a sort, as they received the redemption of forgiveness. But now she was gone, and their thoughts had turned to another.

“Oh, honey, what’s to become of Joshua?” Betty asked. Andrea wiped her face with the sleeve of her lab coat, but struggled to speak. After a moment, she said,

“I…don’t know. I’m not sure about Jim’s family, but Carrie had no siblings and her mom and dad died years ago.” She choked back a sob. “I guess Jim’s family will take care of him.” Gina had been standing back and off to the side. She was holding on to Patti, who was still crying. All the while, she was praying for wisdom, and it had already occurred to her where the little boy might find a home. She wasn’t going to say anything just yet, since they still didn’t know about the boy’s father’s family. The boy’s father, they found out the next day, had no family. He had grown up in foster care in Pittsburgh, and had finally found a loving home with a nice family in his teens. Joshua was now without a home, without a family; but not without hope.

Here I go again; I’m thinking of the time that I will stand
And look into the eyes of my redeemer


Revelation

Waiting for the Spirit of Truth to tell
Power on Earth to stand in the way of hell
Waiting for the sky to clear
Waiting for the sun to appear

Sometimes we go through pain and suffering, and it isn’t vindictive on the part of God. We just go through it because that’s how life is for everyone. Our "sky," our understanding is clouded with the shadow of doubt and self-recrimination. But the trial; the test, as it were, is for our benefit to see the light of His love break through to prove our faith; to ourselves mostly, since He already knows how we’re going to do.

“How’s she doing?” Gina asked. Betty was in the office for a few hours to touch base. She explained that Carrie and Jim’s funeral had taken its toll on Andrea. As much as she had been reassured about her forgiveness and the love that Carrie had re-offered, to coin a phrase, she was still overwhelmed with the “what ifs” of the situation. She had spent another lifetime as an abusive husband to Carrie, but both women had changed over the years, and not just in the obvious ways. To be sure, Carrie’s remarriage and birth of a lovely son was an absolute testimony to the redeeming grace of God.

And of course, Andrea’s transformation was miraculous. She had been changed from being self-centered, stubborn and angry to being selfless, kind and caring; with a change in persona along the way. But these changes were no solace or comfort to her as she grieved; not just for the loss of her newly restored relationship with her ex-wife, but also the loss of “what could have been.” Her relationship with Betty was wonderful; no couple enjoyed more love and fun and excitement than them. But the past, as we have already seen, never remains completely in the past, and regrets and sadness plague us in a time of loss such as Andrea was undergoing. Mrs. Giordano was staying at the house for the day, keeping Andrea company. No one was worried; she just needed someone to “hold her hand” for a little while.


Waiting to see you; Waiting to hear you
Waiting for vision; to see your…your Revelation

It was awfully hard to see the hand of God in this tragedy, even for such people of faith. Betty explained to Gina that they had discovered that neither Carrie nor her husband Jim had any relatives, and when they were killed in the bank robbery last week, Child Protective Services had taken custody of their toddler Joshua until a permanent arrangement could be made. Betty worried that the little boy would be lost in the system, and would grow up like his dad Jim, who was in foster care for all of his childhood after losing his own parents at five years old.

Betty had gotten a call from Jim’s lawyer, and she had some news that might help with the whole custody situation, but they wouldn’t know until that afternoon when they met. Gina asked her Uncle Tony Sorrento to accompany them. They would be stopping by the house to pick up Andrea and Mrs. G. on the way. Patti was holding down the fort at the clinic, and she’d page Andrea if any emergencies came in, but they were likely to be referred to Penn Wynne Animal Hospital until this was all over.


Learning the purifying flame
Regeneration after the growing pain
Longing for the words to flow
Longing for the world to know

The whole process had become an arduous ordeal, and the pain threatened to consume the couple. That is until they heard these words.

“I’ve got some things I need to discuss with you, Ms. DiMaggio,” the lawyer said as the group sat in her office. “Tony, it’s always good to see you. How’s Sally doing (Sally being Gina’s Aunt Salvatricia)?”

“Just fine, Margo, just great.” He smiled and waited for her to continue.

“The will is in probate, but one thing is entirely clear. Two weeks ago, Carrie and Jim came to me with a request, which I have addressed. They knew, of course, that they had no one to take care of Joshua in the event of their death…” Margo’s voice trailed off as her emotions took hold. She had been a good friend as well as their lawyer, and their deaths took a toll on her as well as the people before her. She collected herself and continued.

“I’ll just read the first part; you can go over the rest with them afterwards,” she said as she looked at Tony once again.

“They, of course, left everything, such as it was, to Joshua. They owned their own home, and after everything is settled, it can be sold, with the monies put in trust for Joshua until he’s eighteen, with whatever is available to be distributed for college and such. We’ll work out the details afterwards. And of course, either surviving parent would have been responsible for Joshua’s care. But here’s the good part.” She looked right at Betty and Andrea. “If there was anything good that could come out of this tragedy, it’s this.” She began to mist up again, feeling the grief that everyone felt as well.

“In the event of our deaths, or if either of us should die subsequent to the death of the other, we want the care of our son Joshua Nathaniel Davidson, to be in the hands of Andrea Lena DiMaggio and Elizabeth Patricia DiMaggio.” Margo smiled through her tears, and reached over and placed her hand on Andrea’s.

“She told me the whole story, and I can’t think of a sweeter, more touching reminder of God’s grace than your reconciliation, Ms. DiMaggio. I am so glad that we’ll be able to see Jim’s and Carrie’s wishes fulfilled, and from what Carrie told me, she believed the two of you will be just wonderful parents for the little…”

Margo Chapman wasn’t usually an emotional person, at least in front of clients, but the thought of her friends’ death and the little orphan…no longer an orphan, thank God, made her cry, tears mixed equally with grief and joy. She once again composed herself as Tony rested his hand on her shoulder. And of course by now everyone was crying, even Uncle Tony, but they were all tears of relief and joy.

“Just a few documents to sign and everything will be okay.” Margo stated emphatically.

I would love to report that everything was okay. It wasn’t; at least for a little while, as the couple would deal with the lovely institution we like to call “bureaucracy.”


“This couple has been through enough, sir, and frankly, you are beginning to try my patience.” Tony had been at the Child Protective Service office for nearly two hours.

“There is not only no reason for a home inspection or investigation, there is absolutely no basis in law.” The gentleman in front of him was insisting upon a family investigation of Andrea and Betty. And he made some absolutely ridiculous statement about the child being abandoned.

“The care of this child is only your responsibility because the parents are deceased." He was about to add, "You moron," but thought better of it.

"There was no report whatsoever of neglect or abuse by the parents, and frankly, it is an insult to the memory of these people that you are now demanding an investigation.”

“That we know of…you can never be sure. And what about the…unique status of the couple in question?”

“Once again, sir, that has no basis in law in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. The couple is legally married, and their “status” is no business of the State!”

“We’ll just see about that!” The man actually smirked. The Office of Child Protective Services employs hundreds upon hundreds of diligent, compassionate, and caring people. The man in front of Tony seemed to lack all of the characteristics I’ve just described. Having worked at CPS in another state, this author knows how difficult and demanding the job can be, but there was no reason for the man to be smug or condescending. Fortunately for Tony, someone in the office came to the “rescue.”

“John, may I speak to you a moment?” A sweet looking African-American woman stood at the doorway, her arms folded and her expression somewhat dour. He got up and she pulled him into her office and closed the door. Tony heard nothing, but the animation of the woman, apparently the man’s supervisor, indicated displeasure with how things were going. A few moments later the door opened and John came out with an entirely “non-smug” expression. He sat down and shuffled the papers on his desk, more out of an attempt to delay his inevitable apology.

“It appears that I was wrong….I’m…sorry. I’ll see to this immediately. Behind him, his supervisor stood in her doorway and shook her head as she looked at Tony, as if to say,

“See what I’ve got to put up with?”


Waiting to see you; waiting to hear you
Waiting for vision; to see your,
Your Revelation

Friday afternoon was promising to be a long and uneventful day. Betty was sitting in the kitchen drinking some coffee and trying to read a magazine. Andrea sat in the living room on the couch, looking out the window in anxious anticipation, but with almost no hope or expectation. What happened next was the biggest grandest surprise ever, and possibly the second-most joyful event in the couple’s life. Betty heard a car door close in front of the house. She jumped up and ran to the door. Andrea remained seated, fearing to hope and be disappointed. A knock came at the door and Betty opened it. A young lady of about twenty-three or so stood in the doorway, holding a folder. And peeking out from behind her legs was the sweetest little boy you would ever want to see. He stepped out from behind the girl and held his hands up for Betty. She blinked back tears as she picked Joshua up and brought him over to Andrea, who gathered the sweet little boy in her arms as they embraced and wept tears of relief and utter joy.

Mi Mancherai — I will Miss You


No matter how expected, no matter what the cause, even when someone is old and infirm, their departure will hurt at least someone. This day, an entire community hurt. Giuseppina Giordano, the matriarch of the old neighborhood of several good friends would be departing for a better life; prepared to be reunited with her dear husband Angelo, who had died years before. A time for celebration and tears; for gratefulness and sadness, emotions of all sorts mixed together to bring loved ones to her side as she took her last breath.

`Mi mancherai se te ne vai
Mi mancherá  la tua serenitá 
Le tue parole come canzoni al vento
E l'amore che ora porti via


I’ll miss you, if you go away
I’ll miss your serenity
Your words like songs in the wind
And Love, that you take away.

A young lady, short, petite, and very sweet and a parent for the first time, dealing with the challenges of being a mother in the non-traditional sense in that she "sired" her daughter with her wife. Elaine Esposito was weeping at Mrs. G's bedside; feeling the loss of one of only two women who had extended the care usually reserved from a mother. She had been rejected by her own mother, only to be adopted in a sense by Diane McPherson Alluccio.

And she had always been like a granddaughter to Giuseppina and her late husband Angelo, despite her "condition" of being transgendered. Her parents abandoned her, but neither Diane nor Mrs. G. turned their back; embracing the girl with open arms and welcoming her; providing healing for wounds which should never have been inflicted by those who were encharged by God to love this dear child. Her tears wet the pillow by the old lady's head, who stroked the girl's hair and consoled her with a soft prayer heard only by the two. Mrs. G. had little strength left, but she was strong enough to raise her head to kiss the girl on the lips like a momma blessing a little girl at bedtime.

"You have always been a good girl, Lainey...never forget that I have loved you since you were a little child, and that I am only a tiny fraction of what God has for your life. He loves you so much, and so do I."

Several others stood in the room; her bedroom, she was home with loved ones rather than in the hospital, although she would have told you the doctors and nurses who had ministered to her were more than just professionals; she had made friends with every one of them, and treasured them just as she would her own children, had she any who still lived. She and Angelo had one son, Anthony, who died in a helicopter crash at faraway place called Danang decades before. Their daughter Margo had died as an infant; living long enough to endear herself to everyone who met her and short enough to be a sad but treasured memory of this sweet lady who would be joining her children and husband so very soon.

Recent additions to her friends, Diane McPherson Alluccio and her wife Michelle kissed Mrs. G. and said a blessing before stepping back, hands lingering in grasps almost unwilling to let go.

A very attractive woman, raven-haired and tall, stood beside her husband. Gina and Ben Kelly had known Mrs. G. through friends, and had come to value her friendship as if it were a life-long blessing rather than a brief acquaintance. She was like that; Giuseppina had made everyone she met feel welcome and important and dear to her, and her love made it that much harder for Gina and Ben to say goodbye. They both wept as if they were her own children, and she blessed them as well, kissing both of them on their foreheads like the matriarch she was, imparting a blessing of hope and long life and love.

A tall young lady held a baby in her arms; she was weeping unashamedly and thankfully, since she had spent years of trying to keep out any love or comfort, fearing that they would be revoked as a violation of some unspoken condition. Her own parents had done that countless times, and even after reconciliation and forgiveness, she still harbored fears of rejection. Lainey, who had only moments before said her goodbyes, held her wife's hand as she said her own goodbye to Mrs. G.

It was as if her blessing had empowered Lainey for the first time to be strong and courageous, despite her own years of rejection, and she was almost stalwart as she rubbed her wife's back in consolation. Mrs. G. once again raised her head and kissed April Esposito on her lips. April had never been kissed in affection, at least as a child, by her parents, and this one moment, late in life as it was, served as a restoration of hope and acceptance. She shook enough that she needed to hand little Diane to Lainey, since she wept more in that moment than ever before, such was the loss she felt even only knowing Mrs. G. for such a short time.

"Bacce e tanto affeto, cari uno. Dio ti benedicta! Kisses of great affection, dear one, God bless you!" Mrs. G. rarely spoke Italian, even though she grew up in the hills of Sicily outside Palermo. She had come to the States with her husband Angelo, seeking a life beyond what was promised in her home. She and Angelo loved each other, and she whispered to April just before they parted, "I bless you with long life with Elaine and baby Diane and perhaps, God willing, many more." She kissed April once again and smiled that lovely grandmotherly smile everyone knew and loved.

Betty DiMaggio stood beside her own dear love Andrea. She leaned over and kissed Mrs. G. on the forehead and said,

"I thank you so much for all you have done for us. You gave Andrea hope where there was discord and shame and sadness. I can never begin to thank you enough for all that you did for her...God bless you, my dear sweet mama; be at peace as you join your sweet family and enter into the rest God has provided. I will miss you more than I can say." She kissed her again and stood back, leaving the last farewell to the one who knew and loved Giuseppina Pasqualina Abendando Giordano longer than anyone else, save for the God she would be joining soon.

Andrea tried so hard not to; there was so much to say with so little time to say it, but she collapsed on the bed, weeping tears that only a child can for a mother. She loved Mrs. G. and of course Mr. G while he lived, like they were her own parents. Her strength was almost gone, but she had strength enough to stroke her loved one's hair and coo affectionately,

“Mi mancherá  l'immensitá  Dei nostri giorni e notti insieme noi
I tuoi sorrisi quando si fa buio La tua ingenuitá  da bambina, tu....
I’ll miss the immensity Of our days and nights,
us together Your smiles when it’s getting dark Your being naive like a little girl.”

A love song actually, but fitting for the two. She remembered even as she held the girl in her arms, weakly but determined to say goodbye with every part of her being.


"Andy, what's wrong?" Mrs. Giordano had gone to the back door, only to find a little boy sitting on her step crying. Andy's mother had passed out from her daily drunken stupor, and it was only nine in the morning. The boy hadn't had breakfast; food was a rare commodity in the house, since his father and mother were self-indulgent alcoholics who rarely spent any time taking care of their son. He was neglected, and only received any help from the nice people in the neighborhood. Everyone pitied the boy, and each family took unofficial turns seeing that the boy had what he needed.

He grew up in a time when child protection was a distant dream of well-meaning people, and families and neighbors were the intervention. Andy had a terrible secret, a secret he would come to share only decades later with his future bride. No one suspected the sexual abuse the boy went through; hardly anyone knew about such things in his neighborhood, and even in the early eighties, no one talked about it. And his shame and guilt prevented him from saying anything...so he suffered in silence, his frequent crying believed by all to be merely the sadness and regret of a neglectful family.

"Come in, cari uno, let me make you some eggs and bacon, yes?" Mrs. G had already ushered him into the kitchen for something to eat. It would be an almost ritual performed by her and others. It got him through his younger years until he was old enough to take care of himself, albeit still with the help of friends.


Mrs. G. remembered with sadness years later the same boy, grown to be a man, married with responsibilities and such. He had gone to school and with the help of scholarships and anonymous gifts, become a veterinarian, giving care and comfort to puppies and kittens much in the same way he had received help as a child. He sat in her kitchen, his head buried in his arms, weeping bitter angry tears, not at anyone other than himself. His wife had left him and he felt helpless and alone.

He had taken his anger, amassed in unmanageable size over his bitter disappointment with his life, and directed it toward his only love, and she had not the strength to endure it any longer. He still had received no help for his abuse, which shame and guilt kept hidden, gaining strength and power over his life until he had no choice but to give up. He gave up in the presence of the two who loved him the most and who wanted to see him change.

Mrs. G. stood over him and prayed, asking God to help this young man give up his anger and bitterness. He had finally told her what his mother did to him in the secrecy of her bedroom. She was angry, but her anger was not directed at anyone; she wept quietly when he had told her of things unmentionable and horrific, and she left the judgment to one so much wiser and higher than herself. Both of his parents had died years before, likely never acknowledging the damage they both inflicted on their dear son. But even if they had not, Andy needed to let it go; he needed to forgive for his own sake. His bitterness, understandable as it was, ate him up inside and destroyed the only beautiful thing in his life other than the friendship he had with this dear woman.

"Carrie may never come back, Andy; you know that, don't you?" Mrs. G. did not want to say that, but she had to if he were to get help for himself.

"It's up to you to forgive yourself and her and ask her for forgiveness, no matter how things turn out. You did what you did out of your own volition; no one is responsible for your bitterness, no matter what was done. Do you understand? You must get help, or you will continue to hurt others the way your mother hurt you. I want you to see someone who can help you. Will you do that?"

Her words pierced his heart, not like a knife, but more like a surgeon's scalpel, albeit without anesthetic. It began the surgery that would cut away the anger and bitterness. She remembered him raising his head and looking at her, not to argue, but to agree, and she held him as his tears turned from bitterness to remorse and sorrow. She was an instrument in his healing.


She remembered another conversation, years later, only recently, but perhaps just as transforming as any words she had ever spoken. She had encouraged her beloved friend to make a choice that would be transformational. Andy had re-married, and his love for her was wonderful, but he was torn inside. She helped him by reminding him that he was the happiest when Andy was Andrea. The love of this sweet grandmother helped Andrea move into the life intended for her and Betty, and the decision was born out of encouragement and love and support. Mrs. G. was giving her "daughter" sage advice that was not just life-changing, but life-giving.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VnrPgHa8UDM

Andrea held onto Giuseppina Giordano, not wishing to let go, fearing of course the inevitable; it certainly would be the last in this lifetime. She had wept from shame for her mother's abuse. She had wept in shame for her own abuse for her hurtful behavior which destroyed a love and hurt another. She wept tears of joy at the restoration of hope through her marriage to the most wonderful woman in the world. She wept tears of relief and restoration as Carrie, her ex-wife, forgave her. She wept overwhelming tears of grief and sadness as her restored relationship with Carrie, now a sister to her, died when Carrie and her husband were murdered. And she wept tears of overwhelming joy when God provided restoration for her and Betty by blessing them with Carrie's little boy Joshua.

And now, of course not the final tears in her own life, but perhaps the most wrenching, as she said goodbye to her mother; yes, the woman who loved her more than her own life and gave her the love that only a mother can provide. Andrea raised her head off of Giuseppina's chest and sang softly and quietly in response to her, “

“Mi mancherai amore mio Mi guardo e trovo un vuoto dentro me
E l'allegria, amica mia, va via con te....
I’ll miss you, my love I look at myself and I find emptiness inside of me
And joy, my friend, goes away with you.”

Giuseppina Pasqualina Abendando Giordano smiled sweetly and kissed her daughter once on the cheek, tears mingling in joy and sadness and then she took her last breath. Her name, Giuseppina Pasqualina...Josephine Patricia...God will provide nobility. He had through this wonderful example of God's love to so many, but to this one in particular.

Andrea stood and held Betty as they both wept tears of sadness, but also tears of joy and celebration over this dear one’s life and love. The pair held each other, not wanting to leave the bedside, but a gentle nudging got their attention. Standing next to them, tugging on Betty’s skirt, was Joshua, their son. Betty picked him up and kissed him with many kisses, like they say, with affection and gratefulness. And another nudging came, unexpectedly. Andrea looked down to see Angelo, Mrs. G’s Airedale, rubbing up against her legs, looking for attention. He was whimpering, almost as if he knew what just had transpired, and he also looked as if he knew how things were to be. He wagged his tail in recognition, and Andrea responded by patting his back and scratching his ears. A sad and joyful departure, and yes, a new member of the family.


The End - for now!


My Redeemer
Words and music by Anne Herring
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VnrPgHa8UDM

Revelation
by Iona from the Book of Kells
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkVWS0zhfnE

Mi Mancherai
words and music by
Luis E. Bacavov
as sung by Josh Groban
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJwNS-FPXOI
Dedicated to my sweet mother-in-law, Natalie Elizabeth....1928-2009

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