“Ace of Base, Roxette, and ABBA?”
“I had a needish for Swedish.”
“Nice one, Shvibzik. What’s next? Candy Dulfer’s smooth saxophone?”
“Candy is from Holland, Mr. Smarty.”
“Oh.”
“But that is close enough for me.” Candy Dulfer and Dave Stewart’s sensuous “Lily Was Here” started up, the simple guitar and saxophone duet a perfect balance. Ana stepped through the kitchen island, solidified again, and pulled Jerry gently to his feet and into her arms. With slow, measured steps, she led him around the loft a second time, fitting their waltz steps to the slow rhythm of the guitar-sax duet.
The song ended and Ana kissed Jerry full on the mouth. He kissed her back, feeling that in that one single moment, life could not get any better. The toaster oven dinged and Ana broke away to finish preparing the meal. Pulling the golden-brown bread out of the toaster, she looked up and smiled. “Just in case you have seen fit to forget, Mr. Powell, I love you. Heart, soul, and ectoplasm.”
“And I lo—ectoplasm?”
“I watched Ghostbusters. Who you gonna call?” The music changed, a high male voice with Chinese flute backing him up suddenly filled the air, and it was time for “Kung Fu Fighting”. Jerry laughed, shook his head, and leaned back again while Ana did a bad imitation of Asian martial arts while continuing with the dinner prep.
Eventually the feast was served and Jerry climbed up on a stool and ate at the island while Ana cleaned up. Every so often she would blow him a kiss and he would grab it out of the air and stuff it in his shirt pocket. The entire time Al Green, Ben E. King, Amanda Marshall, and Moxy Fruvous serenaded them from the laptop. By the time Moxy Fruvous’ Dave Matheson was telling the tale about when he was the King of Spain, Jerry’s hunger was sated, and Ana had loaded and started the dishwasher, and was trying to open Photoshop on the laptop.
“I found this program. I do not want to shop for photographs, but am hoping it will allow me to look at them on a device larger than the camera. Is this correct?”
“Sure.” Jerry picked up the SLR and popped the SD card out. “But that program is best for manipulating—changing—your images. If you just want to see how they look, nice and big, follow me.” He took the card over to the big LCD screen, slipped it into a slot on the side and then took Ana by the hand back to the couch where the remote control was. Making sure she could see which buttons he pushed, Jerry cued up the disk and started the slide show. Ana giggled and clapped her hands when the images first popped up, but she quickly became critical of her own work, condemning blurry images or ones not properly lit. Jerry got a kick out of listening to her express frustration in the same way he did with his own photos, but eventually he had to call it quits and get some sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
@o@TheTaoOfJerr: “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”
A GENTLE TOUCH brought Jerry out of an oddly dreamless sleep. He’d only closed his eyes to ward off the headache he felt creeping up, but exhaustion had snuck up behind him and dragged him down.
“Wha—”
“Just me, my Sweet.”
Jerry blinked the mental blanket away and sat up, slowly. “What’s up, Shvibzik?”
“I would like to go to church, please.”
“Really?”
“I remember something about the Russian calendar changing the year I died, but it is still Christmas time and I would very much like to say a prayer for my family. I—” Tears welled up in her eyes. Jerry opened his arms and she slipped into his embrace, her face snuggled into his neck. Her body shook gently as she wept. Jerry held her close, not knowing what else to do. If there were such a thing as a relationship handbook, he was pretty damned sure comforting a royal ghost wasn’t covered by it. He kissed the top of her head and let her emotions run.
After a short time, Ana lifted her head, wiped her eyes, and pulled out of Jerry’s arms. “Thank you, sweet Jerry. I am quite ready, now.”
“For church?”
“Yes, please.”
He glanced over at the laptop and could clearly see a Google map on the screen. “I’m guessing you know which one.”
“Of course. I did my research before I disturbed your slumber. St. Sophia would have been perfect, as I am Russian Orthodox, but they are not open today. Instead, I would like to visit Christ Church Cathedral, even though it is Anglican. It is quite close and in the photographs it appears grand and beautiful.”
“Sounds good. Christ Church it is, then. I’ll put on something nicer than a sweatshirt and jeans.”
“I’m most certain God doesn’t give a whit about your attire, only about your intention.”
Jerry chuckled. “Oh, you are not going to get along with my mother at all. What we wore to church was far more important than what was in our hearts. It wasn’t about faith or religion; it was about social appearances. You should have heard the muttering in the congregation when the new priest arrived with his family. The two boys had long hair, and his wife was a dyed blonde. It was scandalous in the eyes of my mother and her church ladies.” He switched out his sweatshirt for a dressier sweater.
“Whether or not your mother and I are in accord on matters of church and fashion, I most certainly hope to one day meet her.”
“Some day, maybe.” Yeah, that’s what he wanted: his humourless mother meeting the girl who resided in a book of poetry. God help him if the two of them were ever in the same room together.
“Jerry?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you certain you are feeling able to come with me? It is only six or seven blocks—I can easily walk there and back again.” She slipped into her coat and placed the book in the inside pocket.
“Don’t be silly. I should say a few prayers myself. Oddly enough, I find churches very comforting.”
“That is not at all odd. God’s house should be comforting.”
“What’s odd is that I’m not a real fan of the services or the Hallelujah-choir-thing, I just enjoy sitting in peace, feeling the slow pulse of the place, thinking that in that single instant of time, God and I actually understand each other. Of course, just when I think I’m about to have my epiphany—life, the universe, and everything—someone interrupts and asks me if I’m joining them in the Parish Hall for coffee.”
“Coffee? Oh, I would dearly love to taste coffee once again. My kingdom for a coffee—and a cigarette.”
“You smoke?”
“Smoked. Once upon a time, and it got me into no end of trouble.”
“You little imp.”
“Exactly.”
Jerry held the door open for Ana and flicked off the light switch, leaving the Christmas tree and the laptop to give the loft a warm glow. “How about we drive? Do you think you could navigate?”
She held up a folded piece of paper and smiled. “I printed a map, silly goose.”
JERRY’S RESEARCH HAD revealed that Ana had been raised amongst some of the most beautiful structures in the world, like the massive, columned, white, green, and gold Winter Palace, and the five-storey, heavily gilded Mariinsky Theatre, so he really didn’t expect a 20th century Anglican church to impress her; but she stood in the nave, looking down the length of the cathedral, her tears running down her cheeks and vanishing once they fell free of her face. He felt so humbled by the immenseness that he was near tears himself.