Untitled

Chapter Thirty Six

'New York City never seems to change,' thought Bernice to herself as the cigar smoke filled cab made its way, amidst curb to curb automobiles, to the famous World Trade Center buildings. 'Fast walking, non-smiling, tight lipped people and a million horns honking at once. No, some things never change.'

John Jr.'s office was located on the twenty-seventh floor. After pleasantly greeting his secretary, she whispered: "He doesn't know I am in town so I'm going to sneak in and surprise him."
John Jr.'s office was elegantly decorated. The furniture was of the finest quality. The interior decoration scheme professionally displayed antique artifacts, sculptures, and the like. Expensive paintings tastefully adorned the walls. A huge bay window looked out over the city. John Jr. had definitely acquired his mother's taste for the finer things.
He was sitting at his desk in a hunched over posture reading a document that lay before him. His hands were in his lap. Bernice recognized this position as that of her late husband when studying papers in deep concentration.
"John," Bernice said.
"Mother! What a pleasant surprise!" He stood and walked around the desk toward his mother, his arms held out for an embrace. Bernice stopped his advance with a raised hand.
"Sit down, John," she commanded sternly. Startled, he quickly obeyed by seating himself on the settee that was adjacent to the right side of his desk. Bernice could not help but notice the frightened boyish little grin. He looked the same way when in trouble as a child. He quickly composed himself though. Bernice remained standing.
Shaking a pointed finger at her son, she spoke in an emotionally hoarse yet firm voice. "John, do you think I am competent enough to handle my own business affairs?"
"Of course," he replied, with a reserved look in his eyes.
"Then I want you to explain yourself. I want the truth; I want it straight; and I don't want any crap."
John was shocked. Particularly at his mother's blasphemous tone of voice and vocabulary.
'Crap,' he thought. "Now... Now calm yourself Mother."
"No! I will not calm myself," she shouted. "So will you get on with it so I can get out of here?"
"Please sit down, Mother. Please." She complied. "You don't know this but Dad and I used to talk a lot about the family's future; about me taking over the business, about Sarah and her family, and most importantly, about you. He wanted more than anything else in the world for you be taken care of. And, of course, I feel the same way."
Bernice intuitively sensed a perception of insincerity on the part of her son.
"That's the reason, and the only reason, why I did what I did. I guess I should have come to you first. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too, John, sorry for us both."
John looked at his mother. It was obvious that she was both angry and hurt. He also observed an extraordinarily determined, self-confident persona, unlike the docile, dependent, detached mother he was accustomed to.
Suddenly Bernice experienced a surge of placid energy. And at the same time a feeling of calmness and peace fell over her. It was like she had been pleasantly invaded by an invisible internal force.
Then the words begin to flow. "You know John," she said, speaking softly now. "You say you are concerned over my welfare. I find that difficult to believe. Where have you been the last seven and a half years since your father died? How many times have you and the family come to visit me, call me, write me, or even think about me? I hardly know my grandchildren. If I didn't barge in, uninvited, once in awhile, I probably wouldn't see them at all.
"Now you add to this neglect by betraying me, violating every principle you have been taught." Bernice remained calm. Looking directly into her son's eyes she continued. "And you have the audacity to say you are concerned over my welfare? Well, things are going to change-like it or not!" John blushed red. He was speechless.
Why she had gotten off the track by introducing personal family issues, Bernice didn't know. However, she was glad she had because they were even more important. They went much deeper than the problem at hand and this was her opportunity to bring them to a head.
Not willing to give John an opportunity to respond, she stood and presented her final oration. Still in a quiet voice that expressed undertones of disappointment, she returned to the point at issue. "You, in collusion with the owners of the convalescent home have broken the law. I am surprised that you were able to get Clarence to go along with it because he should know better; as should George Harrington."
John started to talk but Bernice interrupted. "There is nothing you can say, John. I have had the matter thoroughly and professionally investigated. I have my own attorney and know what my options are."
"What do you plan to do, Mother?" John was visibly upset and his voice cracked from the stress he was feeling.
"For starters, we are going to modify the family trust. John nodded in agreement. "Other than that I'm not sure yet. I may file Lis Pendens. You will be hearing from my attorney."
Bernice turned and walked out of the office, shutting the door behind her. Tears smeared her makeup as she moved gracefully down the hallway to the main elevator. It had been hard, painful even, to confront her son like that. But she knew, deep inside, that it had been the right thing to do.

Bernice's flight home was uneventful. Exhausted, a good deal of her flight time was spent dozing or replaying through her mind the preceding day's encounter with her son. In somewhat of a daze she entertained disorganized and sporadic thoughts that ranged from early memories of John Jr. and Sarah when they were children to the present state of affairs. She thought about her present relationship with the children. She thought about her dear husband John. Hardly a day went by that she didn't think about him. 'Where did I go wrong, John?' she asked.
It was when the big jet began its descent to John Wayne Airport, that she remembered the discussion she had had with Lisa on the cruise a few months earlier. She remembered her realization, that she had inadvertently allowed the fabric of the family unit to unravel. And now, the intensity of the last two days, a severely damaged ego, coupled with a heart-wrenching hurt, had masked that; the real truth.
'It is I, and I alone who must bear the responsibility and generate the changes I committed to myself to make. And I'll start tomorrow by writing Sarah a long letter,' she whispered to herself. 'With my son, I don't yet know how to heal the breach.'

Late that afternoon found Bernice home and in her favorite lounge chair out on the veranda. It was a beautiful day. The sun, colored orange from an early evening overcast, was inching its way toward the far horizon. The deciduous trees scattered about the grounds were beginning to show signs of color in their leaves, announcing arrival of an early fall. That afternoon, Southern California residents were enjoying temperatures in the mid-seventies.
Bernice closed her eyes, letting the cooling afternoon breeze caress her face. She decided to relax into the moment and let go of all stressful thoughts.
The rhythmic splashing of the surf against the rocky surface below, along with seagulls singing as they flew home after a day of feeding, provided a tranquil background. The familiar quiet putter of a sport fishing boat returning from the islands could also be heard in the distance. As the boat grew closer, the faint laughter of jolly fishermen echoed across the water.
A meditative peace began to spread through Bernice's body and mind. Suddenly, without warning or forethought, her husband's face appeared in her mind's eye. It was perfect in every detail, and he was smiling. His face didn't move. The peaceful look in his eyes was so tender. And they relayed a message, the richness of which could not be expressed by mere words. He was telling his wife in the most powerful language of all, telepathically transmitted feelings, of his love and that it will never die. He was proud of her, understood her, and has always been near her.
Then John's face stiffened, his expression changed. His right cheek raised forming a half grin and his right eye squinted shut. In life, he had often done this when he wanted to make an important point and yet put it across in a gentle way. His message now was to simply confirm to her that she should re-evaluate the situation and approach it from a positive point of view. John's face faded into a warm, bright, in-flowing light.
Bernice opened her eyes. At first she was startled, and even a little frightened, as she had not experienced anything like this before, except it reminded her of the way John mysteriously connected with her the night of his death. 'Was I dreaming? I don't feel like I was asleep. Or did I drift into some kind of altered state of consciousness like my favorite actress, Shirley Maclaine, writes books about it? Was it actually John in spirit again? Whatever transpired, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad it did. Thank you John, dear. Thank you, God.'
The sun had disappeared over the horizon and stars were beginning to peek through, sparkling to lighten the heavens. Bernice stood at the back railing of the veranda in contemplative thought. 'If I choose not to fight it, the convalescent home will remain open. I would see to it that John Jr. lived up to his end of the bargain. I'll make a philanthropist out of him yet,' she chuckled to herself.
She thought of the distressed, defeated looks on the faces of the owners of the convalescent home when they finally had to face the prospect of losing their dream. She thought of the helpless people that would be displaced. 'My God,' she said to herself. 'How could I have let myself become so detached, so indifferent to this human situation. The home will remain open!'
These revelations and the decision itself made Bernice happy about the way things were unfolding. 'And I met Lieutenant Ben again. I will nurture a lasting relationship with him and Louise, whom I adore.
'As far as George Harrington and my so-called good friend Clarence are concerned, despite their contemptible behavior, I will pass no judgment nor hold a grudge. After I sever my association with Clarence, I will simply avoid further contact with him and any other like-minded souls who may come along in the future. Who needs it?
'And look how much you've learned, lady! Give yourself credit for mustering the courage to take a stand, and furthermore, to acknowledge truth.'

Bernice Chandler went to bed that night feeling very much at peace with herself, her God, and the world.