Echoes from a Wishing Well

Ritchris,

Copyright 2007

Echoes From a Wishing Well

A Story

by

Ritch Christopher

Chapter sixteen

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U.S. Airways flight #2333 left Knoxville at 5:07pm, arriving in Charlotte, North Carolina, fifty-three minutes later where Trent, Angio, and Art had a two hour twenty-five minute layover until they caught a U.S.Airways flight , arriving at JFK Airport in New York at 10:30pm. .

It had been a wonderful weekend for all three as well as for the folks they had left in Weston.

On Friday afternoon, having finally recovered from all the overeating connected with Thanksgiving dinner the day before, Trent had taken Angio across the road from Dean's home to show him Vernon's Pond, where he had first met Dean.

Trent recounted the Farley Adams episode, which made Angio seethe at the thought of anyone trying to

mistreat his lover. When Trent told him about Farley shooting Mr. Simmons and then taking his own life

with a shotgun, Angio was glad to hear of Farley's demise.

Since Angio had proven such a novice at milking cows or gathering eggs, Trent wondered if Angio had ever tried his hand at fishing...so he had brought a couple of fishing poles and some bait along with them.

Even though Angio would have swallowed razor blades before admitting he'd never fished before, it only took Trent a couple of minutes to see that Angio was a neophyte angler. Within fifteen minutes, Trent had caught three small perch while Angio's bait hadn't even been nibbled at.

Seeing that he was being 'out fished', Angio suggested that they return to Dean's house since Jody was bringing Laurie down to sing while Dean accompanied on piano. Trent knew not to laugh at Angio, the fisherman, as it would only make him feel even more inferior about outdoor-life abilities, so Trent took his three fish off the stringer and tossed them back to freedom in the pond.

As they approached the beautiful home that Cyrus and Dean had made for themselves, they saw Jody and Laurie coming down the road toward them. After waiting a moment for the brother and sister, they all marched laughing across the lawn to the house. Dean and Cyrus swung wide the front door, having been expecting them and were glad to see the quartet.

After greetings had been exchanged and some Cokes and chips had been liberally spread around, Dean quietly asked Jody what would be the best way to ask Laurie to sing without embarrassing her. Jody responded, smiling, that he'd anticipated this and had already prepped his sister. He assured Dean that she'd really enjoy singing for them, that she wouldn't ever think of it as 'performing', just a chance to entertain these new friends by doing something she loved.

After shooing everyone into the living room and getting them seated, Dean asked Laurie what she'd like to sing. Oddly enough, she hadn't even considered picking out particular songs. Since she had mentioned earlier that 'Over the Rainbow' was her favorite, Dean suggested trying that for starters. Laurie's smile signaled her happiness with the suggestion.

Seating himself at the keyboard, he played a very simple intro and Laurie, with a natural ease, picked up the key and proceeded to destroy everyone with her unfettered singing. She found the heart of the lyrics and presented them so directly, so simply, that they were imbued with a sense of truth, of urgency and loneliness, her voice affecting her listeners with her emotion. Her voice wrapped itself around the music and made it brand new, even for Cyrus and Dean who'd been hearing it ever since it had been first written.

While playing, Dean glanced over at Cyrus who was obviously struck by the young girl's talent. In all their years in the business, they rarely heard a voice so pure, so perfectly on pitch, yet so unpretentious.

The impromptu concert started as a solo recital, but soon became a virtual riot of voices, in duets, in trios, in chorus, and it all seemed so right. Rodgers and Hart, Rodgers and Hammerstein, Jerome Kern, Sondheim, Porter, and all the greats were represented in that dispay.

When the musical afternoon had faded away into evening and Jody and Laurie had left, Cyrus announced to Dean, "We have to find a way to give this girl the training she deserves. She's just too damn good to allow that God-given ability to go to waste."

If he had been expecting an argument from Dean, he was sadly, or happily, mistaken. "Well, if you> hadn't brought the subject up, I was fully prepared to browbeat you into the same conclusion." Dean's face glowed with the idea of bringing another talent to the attention of the world. "But the decision has to be Laurie's. She should be allowed all the training she wants and, when the time is right, she'll decide where her life will lead her."

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Now Trent and Angio were again back in New York, both with a bucolic aftertaste in their mouths. It seemed strange to Angio how,while just a few miles apart, so much of America could be so extremely different and still be part of the same nation.

One of the conditions set by Angio's parents before agreeing to let him go to Tennessee for Thanksgiving was that he spend the following two solid weeks at home...with no nighttime sleepovers at Trent's. On returning, Angio found that he had experienced such a great time at Trent's home down south, that he felt short confinement was worth it, although he couldn't really understand why his parents wanted him at home at all since they never seemed to take notice of him when he was there.

This fortnight of separation between the two boys didn't exclude telephone conversations, and they'd have all day together at school and found the enforced distance between them at night only made their time together during the day feel that much greater.

It was a good thing that both had unlimited minutes on their cell phones as each fell asleep with their phones on their pillows every night until the batteries had worn completely down and needed recharging in the morning

With Art's hit musical being the talk of New York, Trent found himself the center of attention now, a new 'hero' at the school. All the neophytes, the future Broadway wannabe-stars, became something akin to pests when they saw Trent. Each asking dozens of questions about the show---could Trent get any free passes? Would he be able to get his stepfather to come to the school to hold a seminar, or better yet, to come to one of the talent shows, as they'd all do anything to be seen by the new toast of Broadway.

Trent was elated and excited from all the attention he was receiving from his classmates...that is, at first, but then he found his new-found popularity gave him little or no private time to be with Angio, and soon Trent began regretting the situation and tried avoiding them a bit.

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On the Thursday after the Thanksgiving holiday, Angio and Trent had both secured the locks on their bedroom doors and were in a hot and heavy phone conversation with Trent, which would lead to

their first phone sex for the evening. They had 'done 'it' twice a night during their first week of 'separation'..... some nights three times and on one occasion, four.

Angio suddenly heard a bloodcurdling scream from his mother from down the hall in their apartment. Dropping the phone, not even taking time to tell Trent to 'hold on', Angio jumped off the bed, slipped into a pair of boxers to cover his nakedness and ran to his parents bedroom.

Opening the door, he saw his mother on top of his dad, bouncing up and down as if they were in the middle of having sexual intercourse. His mother continued to scream, but all the while, she had her husband's head in her hands, shaking it from side to side on the pillow.

Angio was almost hesitant to enter for fear he was disturbing some kind of unknown parental sexual ritual, but then he heard his mother shouting, "Come on, Carmine, wake up! Wake up, Carmine! Don't you die on me!"

Angio rushed to the bed,shouting, "What's wrong, Mom?"

"Oh, Angio! Your father has stopped breathing. I can't get him to breathe! Damn it, Carmine, don't you dare die on me!"

" Get off him, Mother, and let me try CPR while you go dial 911!" Angio yelled, pushing his mother off his

dad.

Trying to make some sense of what was happening, she stumbled from the room to reach the phone,

Now alone with his father,Angio pressed his fingers to the side of his dad's neck, trying vainly to find a

pulse. Nothing! Then he put his ear next to his dad's mouth to see if he could feel or hear his dad breathing. There was no pulse, no signs of breathing.

Angio clasped his hands together as he'd been taught by a Red Cross CPR instructor and began applying regular strong pressures on Carmine's chest. After six pushes, he held his father's nose and

placed his mouth over his dad's lips and blew as hard as he could, and then proceeded to repeat the maneuver.

Jeanmaire Marcano had steadied her nerves enough to call the the EMT's to come and now ran back to the bedroom. She was sobbing loudly as she watched helplessly, her son doing what he could to revive Carmine.

In spite of the fact that it was thirty-four degrees outside, Angio's exertions had worked up a sweat which dripped off his face onto his father's pallid face.Jeanmaire's sobs had now subdued to a whimper.

Angio knew that his father was gone and that his attempts to revive him were futile. All he wanted was for his mother to leave the bedroom to give himself a rest---and to think. "Mom, I'm sure when the paramedics get here, they're gonna want you to go with Dad in the ambulance. Dad won't want them to see you undressed this way! Why don't you take some clothes and go dress in the bathroom. You can comb your hair and dress before they arrive. You don't want to go anywhere in your housecoat."

"You won't leave your dad, will you, Angio?"

"No, Mom, I'll do everything I can to help him while you get dressed. The paramedics'll be here by then, I'm sure!"

Once his mother left to get dressed to accompany her husband to the hospital, Angio ceased his futile labor and stood beside his dad's bed, leaned forward to close Carmine's eyes and make sure his mouth was closed before any sign of rigor mortis set in. He gently pulled the sheet up to cover his father's lifeless body.

Angio felt a sudden urge to kiss his dad's forehead, which was still covered with sweat. He wasn't sure if the perspiration was his own, having dripped onto his dad during Angio's furious attempt to save his dad or if it was the result of the love-making that Carmine was experiencing just prior to the onslaught of death?

Angio had heard somewhere that, when a person is born, a good deal of stress is placed on a baby as

it takes its first breath. Was it equally distressing to a human being at the moment when life leaves it?

Years ago, when Angio's grandmother, Carmine's mother, had passed away, it had been a long, slow death as Alzheimer's disease shut down her mind and her body.one section at a time..., as if the malady was standing before a panel of circuit breakers, flipping them off, one switch at a time...her memory, her ways of doing every day things, the use of each body part failing until the final click...quietly and softly...

life leaving her body with no effort at all.

The only thing Angio knew about death was what he remembered in the sermons he'd heard in masses he attended at St. Patrick's on Fifth Avenue where the priest said with authority that at the moment o death, the soul leaves the body.

The soul? This had always confused Angio, but never enough to pursue the subject...but when a soul departs, the human body stops breathing and moving. Only humans? What about dogs or cats, or hamsters? What about the time when a power interruption caused Angio's aquarium to shut off? He had found all sixteen of his angel fish floating, dead, on top of the water? Didn't they have souls?

A host of questions bombarded his mind now. Once one of Angio's junior high school friends had asked the eighth grade science teacher about animals having souls...And what about babies that were stillborn? Did such a baby had no soul to leave its tiny body? In this, his first close contact with death, Angio found his mind facing questions that had never presented themselves before.

Staring down at his dad's lifeless body, another question pushed its way forward...If his dad's soul had just lef the apartment in New York, how long would it take Carmine's soul to reach Heaven? And where was Heaven? Angio had seen pictures taken by the Hubbell telescope, pictures showing hundreds of galaxies...way outside of the Milky Way, the captions beneath photos saying they were pictures of planets and stars so far distant that it would take millions of light years to reach them...but they showed no Heaven, so just where the hell was this heaven?

What about mice caught in traps or roaches he had stepped> on...they were dead, just as dead as his dad was now...if a human had a soul, then it was only fair that all of God's other creatures had souls as well. But....fair? Was death fair?

Faced with such immortal questions, Angio was in such deep thought that he didn't hear the knock on the door the first two times it sounded. When the knocking finally intruded on his thoughts, he ran to the front door of their apartment and opened it to let four medics in, two of whom were pushing an ambulance gurney. "Is this the right place?", one asked.

"Yes. My dad's in his bedroom."

The four life-savers all but pushed Angio aside, running to the bedroom Angio had indicated.

Angio followed quickly and saw one of the EMT's had produced an oxygen mask, placing it over Carmine's face. The female attendant was pumping a blood pressure monitor as well as searching for a pulse or any other vital sign of life.

After only a few minutes, the medical squad made eye contact with each other, slowly shaking their heads in a negative, resigned manner.

Seeing this official confirmation of the finality of his dad's condition, he spoke up. "Could I ask all of you a favor?"

"What is it, son?" the oldest of the unit asked.

"I...I know my dad's gone...but my mother doesn't know. She's in the next room dressing to go to the hospital with you...and with my dad, of course. I...I don't want her to know yet that he's...you know? Could you kinda fake it until you get to the hospital? You know, pretend he's still alive, that there's still a chance, and you're doing all you can to help him?"

The paramedic glanced at his cohorts and then nodded. "I...I suppose we could," he said. "Is there

someone you can call to be with your mother at the hospital when she does find out?"

"I can call some friends, some members of her club. We don't have any relatives that live in New York."

At that moment, Jeanmaire came back into the room and the four attendants began 'working' on Carmine, attempting to 'restore' him and she felt a bit relieved, that with them there, everything was going to be alright. She had always been a pragmatist as much as Carmine was a realist. "Thank God, you're here!", Jeanmaire exclaimed. "You're gonna want to take him to the hospital to check him out and give him some medicine. I... well, would it be alright if I rode in the ambulance with you?"

"Yes ma'am, we...we came in two ambulences. We'll put your husband in one and you can follow in the second. I'm Jerry and my coworkers are Tom and Harry, and that's Florence."

They each nodded a quiet greeting at Jeanmaire as they were introduced.

"Angio, are you coming with us in the ambulance?"

"No, mom, there's a few phone calls I'd better make and then I'll take a cab. Which hospital are you taking my dad to?"

"Urgent Care on East sixty-eighth!"

"Fine...Mom! Don't worry. Everything's gonna be alright. I'll be down to the hospital ASAP!"

With that, the paramedics lifted Carmine onto the gurney and rolled it out the door of the apartment toward the elevator as Florence escorted Jeanmaire.

Reaching the street, they got into the EMS wagons and sped down the all-but-empty Manhattan streets with the siren wailing...only for Jeanmaire's benefit.

Angio watched silently as half of his family disappeared, listening as the siren faded into the night. Returning to the apartment, he closed the door and heard....nothing. No talking, no laughter, noTV, nothing. Never in his life had anything seemed so quiet. The silence so heavy it could have crushed him.He leaned against the closed door and cried.

He knew, for his mother's sake, he had to call one or two of her friends to go be with her when she......when she learned.

His next thought was whether or not to awaken Trent to tell him of the past hour's happening. He knew if Trent knew, if he told Trent what had happened, Trent would be at his side immediately. God, how he needed his lover! But was it the right thing to do? Trent would only lose sleep and there wasn't really anything his friend could do to help. He's only lose his night's sleep and Angio's dad would still be gone. No, let Trent sleep. He's take care of what had to be done.

The friends that Angio had called to be with his mother at the hospital would arrive earlier than Angio, he knew, and that gave him some time. Forcing himself to think about his mother when she retuned from the hospital, he had the presence of mind to strip the bedclothes from his parents' bed....the bed in which his father had just died..... and put them into the washer. Then he made up the bed with clean linen.

That done, he took a moment to breathe. He had realized that sometime later tonight or in the morning, his mother would be coming home and now at least she wouldn't be seeing the exact place where Carmine had died exactly as it had appeared earlier.

Once the bedroom looked clean and decent, Angio went to his own room and stared at his cell phone, again feeling the overpowering need to see Trent. He ached to be with Trent, to feel Trent's arms around him, his head on Trent's shoulder.

No...he'd go to the hospital to be with his mother who'd need him in this time of grief. He'd call Trent early tomorrow morning.

At that point, practical matters shoved their way into his mind. Angio didn't know if his dad had enough

insurance or if he'd put aside enough in his will to take care of his wife and son. Just as with most married couples, they seldom talked of such subjects, of what might happen if....., since they, like everyone else, naturally assumed they would live forever and there'd always be time in the future for writing wills or buying life insurance.

Then a black thought......, Insurance? What if Carmine had left nothing for Jeanmaire and Angio? What would happen then? He remembered that his mother had worked in an office years ago, but she couldn't earn enough with her present lack of work skills to pay Angio's tuition, in addition to monthly rent on their apartment, food, utilities, clothes. ..Would Angio have to leave school? Could he and his mother even afford to stay in their apartment? He was knew that he could live with Trent since they were practically a married couple, but what about his mother? Where would she go? They had no relatives living in this country. Carmine had a huge family in Italy, he knew, and Jeanmaire had two brothers and a sister, all living in ornear Paris. On top on that.............................?

Questions! Questions with no answers!

Arriving at the hospital, Angio had to face reality. The emergency room was on the ground floorand as he approached the door, he saw his mother sitting in the anteroom with her two closest friends, one on either side, one holding Jeanmaire's hand and the other with her arm around Angio's mother's shoulders.

Angio suddenly had a surreal moment---he felt almost as though he was about to make his entrance on stage, only he didn't know the name of the play, there was no script! He didn't know what he was supposed to say. It would be a totally `hang-by- your-teeth' improvisation with each character taking his cue from the last line spoken.

Jeanmaire's makeup had run down her cheeks from her crying. Now she was only sighing slight whimpers until she raised her eyes to see Angio coming through the door.

Slowly Jeanmaire rose from her seat and in an almost normal voice, she said, "Angio, votre père est mort".

Angio replied softly in his mother's native language, "Oui, ma mère, je sais."

She enveloped Angio's head in her arms and pulled it to her breast. "What are we going to do, my son?"

"You and I will go on, just as dad would want us to..."

"I still can't believe it, Angio. A little over an hour ago, he was well, he was happy, and...I know I shouldn't tell this, but...your father and I were making love when...... when it happened."

Angio didn't reply to his mother's confession, but to himself he thought, 'At least he died doing what he enjoyed most.....and with the only woman he'd ever loved.'

"I blame myself. Maybe he was too excited. Perhaps he would still be alive if we hadn't been..."

Angio had to cut that thought off immediately. "Mom, you can't blame yourself, Dad could have had a heart attack just walking up a flight of stairs. Mom---it was just his time."

"The hospital wants to release him to a funeral director later today but I don't know who to call. I...I don't even know if he set aside money for something like this."

"Mom, do you know how to get into dad's safe in the bedroom?"

"I do, but don't tell him. Oh, merde! Tell him? He's..., he's...But, yes, I know the combination."

"That's where he kept his private papers, isn't it? We'll look when we go home."

"Angio, your dad is in that first cubicle inside the door if you'd like to go see him or say goodbye." Her wistful smile told Angio that she'd already said her farewell.

"Mom, I said, 'goodbye' to Dad at home, before the paramedics arrived."

"You knew then that he was gone?"

"Yes, but I didn't know how to tell you."

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It was almost 7:30 in the morning when Angio arrived home with his mother. The sun was up... it was daylight, but the sky was overcast with gray clouds which would drop six inches of snow on Manhattan before sundown.

Angio took his mother by her elbow and walked her inside the apartment building and to the elevator. He had to be with her, he knew she couldn't be alone, but he also knew that Trent would be up now and was getting dressed for school, expecting to see him there.

More than anything in the world, he wanted to be with Trent right now, but he felt his mother took precedence in this time of need.

He led his mother into her bedroom which was now remade with fresh bedclothes. His small housekeeping gesture made it easier for her to enter, less painful with no signs of the trauma that the room had witnessed just hours ago.

Angio asked if he could make her breakfast or even just a cup or coffee, all of which she declined. She only wanted to lie down and rest as she was tired, drained, both physically and emotionally.

"Mom, would you be OK if I went over to see Trent for a few minutes. I...I haven't talked with him. He doesn't know yet......about Dad."

"Yes, cherie, please go! I'll be fine. You...you've been so strong and both your dad and I are proud of you."

"Mom...dad is..."

"I know, mon petit, I know. Please just let me rest alone."

"I won't be gone long..."

"Stay as long as you like. Angie, you know we have to find a funeral parlor for your dad later today."

"Yes, ma mere..." Angio felt an urge that was utterly foreign to him as he walked to the bed and leaned

down to kiss her on the cheek. Then he walked toward the door.

"Angio...?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime aussi, ma mère."

Glancing at the clock, he realized it would soon be time for Trent to be leaving his apartment for school, so, to keep from missing Trent, Angio flagged down a passing taxi to make it on time.

He rang the doorbell and Art answered the door.

"Hey, there, big guy!" Art said cheerily.

"'Morning Daddy Art." Angio called on all his acting ability to avoid breaking down.

"Come on in, Trent's almost ready to leave for school. Did you have breakfast?"

"No, sir, not really."

Angio's vague answer set off an alarm in Art's head. "Well, come on into the kitchen and grab a bite. I know how strenuous your classes can be in movement and mime classes. You should start each day with a good breakfast to help you make it through the day." Through all this chatter, Art kept asking himself what had disturbed him when Angio had come in.

"I'm really not hungry, Daddy Art, but thanks, anyway."

Trent's voice was heard then,coming down the hall..."Who are you talking to, Daddy Art?"

"Come into the kitchen and see for yourself."

Trent walked into the kitchen and, on seeing Angio, he ran to him to kiss his cheek.

For some reason, Art always liked seeing the two boys express their affection so openly, but Angio's demeanor kept saying trouble somehow.

"Hey, sweetheart," Trent said still holding Angio so that they were nose-to-nose. "Our two weeks of separation aren't up yet. We'd've seen each other at school, but I...I'm glad that you couldn't wait that long to see me."

At that, Angio pulled Trent closer to him, clinging to him as he broke into tears. "Oh, Trent...it's so awful!"

"You're wrong, baby. It's wonderful to see you, but it's not a time for tears..."

"Trent...my dad died late last night!"

"What??? What happened?" Trent's face went pale.

"Oh, my God, Angio! I'm so sorry," Art added. "Here, come sit at the table. Let me pour you some juice or something, but tell us what happened."

Angio, through his tears, told Trent and Art what had taken place, but left out seeing his mother on top of Carmine...if they were having sex just prior to the heart attack, it was personal and private. Several times, Angio choked up and had to pause before continuing. He ended his story by telling them his mother was at home in bed, resting...

While Angio was telling them the news, Trent had shed almost as many tears as Angio.

Art had instantly begun working his brain to find out how he could ease his burden. "You said that you and your mom need to find a funeral parlor today?" Art asked.

"Yes sir," Angio replied..."Neither my mother nor I know who to call or what to do next. Daddy Art, could you help? Please?" His eyes were pleading. "I know I shouldn't ask that of you, Daddy Art, but I don't know who else to turn to..."

"You know damned well who to turn to...Remember, I'm not your real dad, but I'm your Daddy Art just the same. You don't think that your mother would be offended if I...sorta took hold of the arrangements?"

"No, Daddy Art. It would be such a relief for her. I know funerals cost a lot of money, and I don't know if Dad had money set aside or if he had insurance policies. Neither Mom nor I know anything about that."

"Money is something we don't worry about, remember?" Art said. "I think there's a funeral director not too far from your apartment. I...I'll go down and see what I can do about making some preliminary arrangements....Then, if it's agreeable with your mom, I can go with her later to pick out a coffin and tell the director what kind of service she would like... Of course, you should be just as involved as she is, Angio. I don't know if you want to go to school today, Trent, but I'll call the school If you want and ask for a few days off. I'll tell them the circumstances and it won't count against Angio or you. You stay here with Angio until I return."

With some of the burden eased, Angio broke into tear again and Trent put his arm around Angio to comfort and protect him.

With a worried glance at the two boys, Art reached for an overcoat from the hall closet and a pair of gloves. He gave both boys a hug and a kiss before he left, closing the door quietly.

"Angio, how much sleep have you had?" Trent asked.

"Not any, really, now that I think of it."

"Let me make you some hot chocolate to warm up your insides while you go into my room and get into bed to warm up the rest of you. I'll join you as soon as I get the hot chocolate made. You've had a rough night." Trent said, "Why didn't you call me? I could have gone to the hospital with you."

"I wanted to, Trent, I wanted to so bad, believe me...but I loved you too much to disturb you with my family problems."

"Angie...don't you know we're going to be a couple for the rest of our lives? You and I are two halves that make up one whole." Trent kissed Angie longer but more gently than he had earlier in the kitchen. "Now scoot to bed. The control for the electric blanket is on the bedside table. Make it as hot as you want."

With a gratefgul look, Angio turned and headed for the bedroom. Trent made two cups of hot chocolate, sprinkling the tops with cinnamon, marshmallow bits, and a squirt of whipped cream. Then,placing them on a bed tray with spoon and napkins, he took them into his bedroom. Angio had removed all his clothes and placed them on a chair near the bed and was fast asleep. Trent set the tray down on the opposite bedside table. He needed no invitation to take of his clothes and join his love in bed.

Angio was on his side, his back turned toward Trent's side of the bed. Trent removed his clothes and slid into the bed to spoon against Angio. As if it were an automatic reflex, Angio pushed back toward Trent's naked body so that their two bodies seemed to melt into one. It wasn't a time for sex, but a moment for healing sleep.

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Art had never met Angio's parents, yet he showed no hesitation in taking over Carmine's funeral arrangements. Aside from the necessities arising from Ronnie's recent death, Art hadn't had any practical experience with funerals, but he had always looked upon them in a way as an extension of show business as it reflected human life. Show business his forte indeed. He had attended in the past many tributes for Broadway stars, producers, directors, and choreographers, and his innate attention to the details from those experiences seemed to present themselves to him.

With this experience and no more, he began the painful duty that really wasn't his, only knowing that doing it might help others, people for whom he cared.

His first stop was the funeral parlor to arrange for Carmine's body to be moved there from the hospital. Since the hospital was eager to have the body moved and since they had had dealings wit that funeral home in the past, no one questioned the fact that no member of the immediate family had given permission to move the body, and Carmine's remains arrived within an hour after Art signed the necessary papers.

Something Art didn't know was whether Mrs. Marcano wanted her husband buried or cremated, and so he found he had to stop being a director long enough to go to see the newly widowed woman to learn her wishes concerning her deceased husband.

Reluctant as he was to disturb her, Art had to ring the doorbell on the Marcano apartment six or seven times before Jeanmaire answered the door. Her hair was unkempt. her eyes puffy and swollen from crying. She braced herself on the door knob to steady herself. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Marcano?" Art inquired.

"Yes...?"

"Please forgive me, but allow me to introduce myself. I'm Art Whitman. I'm the fosterfather of Trent Matthews. I know your son, Angio, very well."

"Trent? Angie's boyfriend?"

"Well--yes."

"Oh. I didn't say much when Angio told us about himself and your boy. Trent seemed really nice and I figured as long as Angie was in good company, I wouldn't interfere with their relationship. I know many mothers have to cope with the possibility of their son getting a girl pregnant. I suppose there's no reason to worry about Trent getting pregnant."

"Hardly..." Art chuckled slightly. At a time like this, her offhand attitude was surprising, but refreshing.

"Still, with Angie having a boyfriend, there's always a danger of HIV or AIDS."

Should this remark offend him? He decided not. At least she was concerned for her son's well-being. "Perhaps in some cases, Mrs. Marcano, but not with my Trent. He's very careful and very mature for a boy his age and Angio would never have to fear catching any disease or virus from Trent."

She suddenly became aware of their surroundings."Why do I keep you standing in the hall? Please come inside. May I offer you a cup of coffee?"

More coffee was the last thing he needed at this point, but he recognized her courtesy in spite of what he knew her day had been like.

"I'll come inside, thank you, but I've had more than enough coffee so far today."

"Would you like some juice? Milk? Water? I must apologize for my appearance and my behavior.You see, my husband died this morning and I'm a bit at loose ends. I really don't know what I'm supposed to do or how to go about it."

"That's why I'm here, Mrs. Marcano. I heard about Mr. Marcano passing away from Angio when he came to see Trent this morning. Please accept my heartfelt condolences."

"I blame myself for his death, but God decides, we don't."

"Mrs. Marcano, allow me to apologize first. I've done something of which you might not approve, but I did it with Angio's permission."

"What is it you've done?"

"I had Mr. Marcano moved from the hospital to a nearby funeral parlor."

"Thank you, God! Mr. Whitman, I've been worrying all morning, just wondering how I was going to get that done. Thank you seem so little to say, but I do appreciate it."

"Next, I hope you'll forgive my directness, but the funeral director needs to know your wishes. Will you want Mr. Marcano embalmed and placed in a coffin for burial or would you want his remain cremated?"

"Oh, my God! I hadn't even thought about that! I've seen those commercials TV where two women talk about life insurance, saying the average funeral today costs around six thousand dollars! Would you have any idea how much a cremation costs?"

"Not very much---less than five hundred dollars. The biggest expense of cremation, from what I've heard, is the urn in which you store the ashes."

"What's wrong with a simple cardboard box? I'm sure Angio will want to scatter his dad's ashes and an urn will be useless."

"You don't have to decide on that right now, but if you're sure about cremation, I'll call the funeral director and instruct him on that---with your approval, of course. If he's to be cremated, I should ask if you'd like to see your husband one last time at the funeral home?"

"No, Mr. Whitman..."

"Please call me Art."

"Very well, if you'll call me Jeanmaire."

"I will, thank you...Jeanmaire---such a pretty name you have."

"I suppose by my accent you've guessed that I'm from France. I still have such a heavy accent."

"No, just a bit of an accent, but, if you don't mind my saying so, your accent is charming."

"Thank you---you're very gracious. I was going to say about viewing my husband....God rest him, Carmine died this morning in this apartment in his bedroom. He is gone. The body that the ambulance took to the hospital that is now at the funeral home...that isn't my Carmine. That's only a shell that he lived inside. He's gone. Dead is dead."

'Another question, Jeanmaire---are you planning on having a funeral service for him?"

She hesitated, then said "Please understand that I have to be practical right now. I don't want anything that costs money."

"Jeanmaire, since I'm so close to your son...I believe you know he calls me Daddy Art, I...I would like to pay for Angio's father's funeral...that is, if it wouldn't offend you?"

Now complete fear and consternation took over her face. "I...I don't know what I'm gonna do! I opened my husband's wall safe a while ago...and there's no will, no insurance,, no money at all. I called the bank and we have a grand total of about three-thousand dollars...and that's all the money Angie and I have between us. I won't even be able to pay next month's rent or the utilities. I have no family here in America! We'll have to leave!""

"What about France? Did Angio mention something about you having brothers and sisters over there near Paris? Do you mean you're willing to pull up stakes here in the States and move back to France?"

"What else can I do?"

"If you go, would you take Angio with you?"

"Of course! He's all I have now. We could stay with my brother in Paris for a while after we see his father's Italian family...Carmine's family. It might be good for him to know his roots and meet the family he's never seen."

Suddenly Art could envisioned the problems Trent and Angio would be facing.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Carrying out Jeanmaire's wishes, Art made arrangements at the funeral home to have Carmine's body

cremated. There were no plans made for a funeral or a memorial service because after further investigation of Carmine's private papers, Jeanmaire found a letter that Carmine had left to be read in the event of his death. It was Carmine's own wish that he be cremated and that his ashes be shipped to Tuscany in Italy and placed beside his parents' coffins in the simple Marcano family mausoleum.

Art now knew that Jeanmaire didn't even have enough money to accompany Carmine's ashes to Italy and so, though apologizing for being so direct, he told Jeanmaire that, out of the respect and the love for Angio that he had come to share with Trent, he wanted to pay for their trip and its expenses.

Jeanmaire's Gallic pride refused to accept such a gift, but Art insisted until she finally relented. She had called Carmine's two brothers and his sister in Tuscany to tell them of Carmine's passing and that she and Angio would be arriving in two or three days to place his remains.

One of the first things Emilio, Carmine's older brother, had asked was when Carmine had last been to confession and received holy communion. He wanted their parish priest to say a funeral mass for Carmine.

Saying that Carmine had been a faithful Catholic and had been to mass every Sunday, never missing communion, Jeanmaire lied to Emilio, She was just enough a believer in the church's doctrines to do anything she could to make a place in heaven for her deceased husband. A funeral service with a priest would be some thing to possibly make up for Carmine's lack of religious observation during his life. But Carmine had been a good man, a faithful husband, and a good provider. Surely,the forgiving God would understand and forgive her lie.

She didn't think Angio knew enough about the Church's doctrine to know what she was lying nor why she was doing it. She knew that Angio was more upset about having to leave Trent to go to Europe than he was about attending his dad's funeral, but Trent encouraged him to go. It would be good for Angio to see part of Europe, plus the fact that it was the last thing he could do for his dad, not to mention the support his mother needed at this time. So, however reluctantly, Angio had agreed.

<><><><><><><><>

Shortly after he returned home, having carried out his sad tasks, Art received a disturbing telephone call from Dean in Tennessee, telling them that Granny Dee was in the hospital.

Jody and Laurie, coming down for breakfast, had found Granny Dee passed out on the kitchen floor next to the stove. It looked to them as if, stooping to take a pan of biscuits from the oven, she had fallen, the oven door remaining open and biscuits scattered on the floor beside her.

Jody had immediately phoned Dean and Cyrus who, after calling an ambulance, hurried to Dee' house, arriving before the EMT's. Kneeling beside Dee, Dean checked her pulse to find it strong, but rapid. Cyrus sent Laurie to get a washcloth and bring it to him. Using it with care, he wiped Dee's forehead and the back of her neck in a unsuccessful attempt to revive her.

Just minutes later, Weston's one and only ambulance arrived. The attending paramedic took Dee's vitals and found them to be in fair condition, and not all that abnormal for a womanof Dee's age, size, and weight.

Dean, Cyrus, and Jody helped lift Dee onto the gurney and quickly rolled it out to the EMS wagon.

At the hospital, the ER doctors discovered Dee's blood sugar was so high that she'd nearly gone into a diabetic coma. Dee had never been diagnosed as diabetic, but no one knew when Dee had last had a thorough physical.

After some fast blood tests to be certain of her stats and to confirm the original diagnosis, Dee was given a shot of insulin and soon thereafter, she revived...a bit surprised to find she was in a hospital, and somewhat embarrassed for making a 'spectacle' of herself, but, all in all, very happy to be alive.

Dean had left her bedside long enough to call Jody at Dee's house to reassure him that Dee was going to be alright and that he and Laurie should go on to school just as they normally would. Dean said that if anyone asked why he and Laurie were late, they could call him at the hospital and he would explain the circumstances.

Jody was relieved, but still frightened, for if anything happened to Dee, he and Laurie would have to leave this haven and take another trip into the unknown.

Following his call to Jody, Dean called Art in New York to tell him about Dee and ask him to break the news to Trent, but he insisted that Trent know that Dee was fine.

Art thanked him, truly grateful for Dean's call. As Art understood, Angio would be staying at Art's this morning while Trent went to school.

Trent was saying goodbye to Angio when Art had received Dean's call. Art couldn't decide whether to tell Trent now or wait until he got home from school, but that issue was quickly taken out of Art's hands.

Trent had overheard Art saying Dean's name over the phone and had waited until Art hung up to ask,. "Who was that, Daddy Art?"

"Uh...that was Dean..."

"Dean?... calling from Tennessee?"

"Yes."

Trent was immediately on edge. "Is anything wrong?"

"Yes and no..."

"What is it? Please tell me, Daddy Art."

"Your Granny Dee took sick and was taken to the hospital. That was Dean calling to let us know."

"Sick? What kind of sick?" Trent felt his whole world begin to shake.

"She..uh...she has diabetes and her blood sugar level raised a bit high and she fainted."

"Oh, my God! Is she gonna be alright?"

"Yes, yes, son. They gave her some insulin and she's her old self, according to Dean."

"But diabetes? She didn't have diabetes when I lived with her!"

"She probably did, Trent, but even she didn't know. It's one of those conditions that can creep up on a

person before he's even aware of it."

"I should go to Tennessee to be with her!"

"She seems to be out of danger, Trent, but if you want to go, I'll make the arrangements."

Angio, standing in the doorway, had been listening to the conversation and took Trent's hand."God, when it rains, it pours!"he inserted. "First my dad and now Granny Dee. What's next?"

The question was too close to home. "Nothing for you to worry about right now, Angio," Art replied.

"Trent, why don't you go?" Angio suggested. "Even if she's alright, it'd make her feel good just seeing

you. By the time you get back, I'll be getting back from....from Tuscany. You won't have time to worry about me,nor I about you..."

"What do you think, Daddy Art? Should I go?"

"That's up to you, Trent,as I said...if it'll make you feel easier, then go."

"OK, that's settled. Would you see if you can get me a flight to Knoxville around the same time Angie

leaves for Europe? We can go to the airport together."

"Fine. You go on to school and tell your directors you're going out of town for a few days on a family emergency and I'll have Colette make your flight plans as soon as she gets here."

Turning to his lover, Trent asked "Angie, is there anything you want me to tell any of your teachers?"

He thought for a moment and said,"No, baby...go on and don't be late. Remember! First rule of theater...don't be late for an entrance!"

Trent kissed Art and then he gave Angio a sorrowful kiss and left for school.

<><><><><><><><><><

After Trent left for school, Angio couldn't sleep and decided to return home to help his mother pack for the trip to Italy. Entering the apartment,he became alarmed when he saw several large packing cartons.

Going to his mother's room, he saw that Jeanmaire was packing nearly every piece of clothing in her closet. Quickly looking ito his own room, he saw there were three large empty boxes on his floor.

"Mother", he called, "what are these boxes for?"

Coming to his door, she replied, "I want you to pack all your clothes and everything that's important to you,"

"But why? We're only going to be there for a week. Why should I pack everything?"

"There's no sense in trying to hide the truth from you, Angie. You and I are going to France for a few days to see my family after going to Tuscany to bury you dad."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mom! You didn't say anything about a long trip! It's bad enough that I have to miss a week of school, but I can't stay longer than a week even if we go to both France and Italy! don't want to be away from Trent that long."

"Angie, just once, just once could you think of us instead of putting yourself first? With your father gone, I'm going to need you near me for while."

"But, Mom, we will be together here in New York!"

"You want the truth?"

"Yes, mother. All of it..."

"Angio, we don't have the money to pay for our living in New York any longer. Your father left us completely broke. There's no insurance! We have no money. I know the first thing you're going to say

is that you can live with Trent. That could be true, but what about me? Do you think I can move in with Trent, too?"

"But..."

"There is no but. Angie, we have no other choice. The only family I have besides you is in Paris and my

brother Paul is willing to let us live with him until we can get on our feet financially."

"Doing what? Working in a bakery, making French bread and croissants?"

"I still have my figure and there are modeling jobs now for older women. I can still look attractive.I can try for a job in a fashion house"

"And what am I supposed to do...sell newspapers on a street corner? What about my acting, m career?"

"Angio, Paris is full of movie studios. Why, you could become a young Gerard Depard, a Jean Triginant.

Even Johnny Depp is living there now instead of in Hollywood."

"That's all well and good, Mom, but I don't speak very good French!"

"Well, I do! And I can teach you!"

"But what about Trent? I love him, Mother! I just can't leave him on a moment's notice!"

"Angio, you're too young to even think about settling down with one person. You'll break up with Trent in no time and you'll be looking for a new boyfriend."

"I'd rather kill myself than leave Trent!" The strength behind his quiet voice revealed his truth.

"Do you think Trent will kill himself when you leave?"

"I don't know...Maybe!"

"Didn't you say that Trent was involved with your Daddy Art's son when he was killed? Did Trent kill himself then?"

Angio was silent for a moment. "No."

"And neither of you will kill yourself if you move to Paris."

Angio slum down on the side of his bed and began to cry. "Go ahead and cry Trent out of your system. If

he becomes famous and earns a million dollars, then maybe he can afford a place for you and me to live in New York...but until some such miracle occurs, you'd better get used to seeing the Eiffel Tower every day instead of the Empire State Building."

Angio immediately had thoughts of suicide....but it would be too cruel to punish Trent after he had just

recovered from Ronnie's murder. It was better that he remain alive and be two thousand miles away than for one of them to be dead. Death was too final. Angio loved Trent completely...heart, mind, body and soul.

Life without Trent would be unbearable. Maybe if he told Daddy Art about the problem, Art could find a solution.

Then again, without her son, Angio, Jeanmaire would be al alone.

Life was not fair...

<><><><><><><><><>

To be

continued in

"Echoes From a Wishing Well"

chapter 17

This chapter that you are about to read is the last that Ritch wrote for 'Echoes From a Wishing Well. He had previously posted 'Echoes' through chapter 9 on Nifty in 2007 when his health started to fail. After his death in 2014, while going through his possessions, I came across a CD containing chapters 10 through 16 of 'Echoes'. These have now been edited and posted here on Nifty.

With the indulgence of Ritch's readers, I intend to attempt to construct an ending to this story which I will post here on Nifty in Ritch's name. I hope you will understand that I am in no way equal to Ritch as a writer. I can only try to conclude this, his last work in theway I believe he intended.

Thanks for reading,

Les

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