“The Silver Lining”
by Janet Syas Nitsick,
author of the www.Christianstoryteller.com Best of Year book, Seasons of the Soul
Harriet’s wrinkled hand pulled the treasured-wooden box from her dresser drawer. She stroked its carved etchings. I can do this. I can do this. Gathering strength, she lifted the latch, which exposed its silver lining. Her fingers caressed the velvet as she grabbed the homemade heart. Tears slid down her cheeks. She glanced from the paper imperfection, not wanting to damage it. Grabbing a tissue, she wiped her face and focused on the possession - a little yellower than when she last looked at it but beautiful none the less. The heart’s rugged edges grazed her finger tips. I remember the day Susie made this.
Susie’s curly, golden-blonde hair bounced as she bent her head to draw a heart. The nine-year-old smiled. “Mommy, Mommy, made heart.”
“Of course, I knew you could do it.” Harriet opened the oven door, used the pot holders to lift a cake from the rack and set the pan on the range top to cool.
Picking up the scissors, Susie inserted her thumb and stubby fingers into the handles. She angled the scissors, snipped along the diagonal line then placed the scissors on the table. “Hard work!” she yelled, and brushed the paper scraps away from her.
Harriet stepped toward her daughter. Leaning over the girl’s shoulder, she examined the jagged handiwork. “Very nice, sweetheart.” She wiggled into the small chair beside her. She looked into her child’s blue eyes and rubbed her hand. “Does it hurt?”
She nodded. “But big girl now. Dressed myself.”
Harriet grinned and brushed the loose hairs from her daughter’s eyes. “Yes, you’ve learned a lot. Want to rest?”
“Help!” Susie pointed her finger at the heart’s rounded edges.
Harriet grasped the creation. “I’ll hold this while you cut.”
Susie returned her fingers into the curved handles and cut. Large chunks dropped onto the table. “Nice?” she asked, raising the heart - with its left side taller than the right - to her chest. “Perfect just like you.” She kissed her daughter’s pudgy cheeks.
“Friend Davy colored his.”
“Do you want to do the same?”
“Please Mommy.” Her lips turned up into a wide smile. Susie pushed the chair back and pulled her stout body upward.
“Wait until I get the crayons.”
“I’ll obey.” She clomped her feet on the floor while she waited for her mother to return. “Know these colors.” Picking a yellow and red crayon, Susie paused then continued. “Shiny.”
“Yes, very bright.” Harriet laughed. “I’ll leave you alone. You call me when done.” Out of the corner of her eye, she gazed at her daughter’s intense strokes. Don’t want to interfere. She opened the back door, the room stuffy from the heated oven and recent rain shower. The kitchen clock ticked away the minutes. Harriet tightened her apron strings then re-examined the meat-loaf recipe. She inhaled the pungent aroma of the onions as she added them to the hamburger. Grabbing the rolling pin, she crunched the crackers into small bits, stirred them in and pressed the mixture into the pan.
“Done!” Susie’s eyes twinkled. She clasped her fingers around the fat crayons to place them back in the box.
“Can’t wait to see it.” Harriet wiped her hands on her apron. She stepped toward her daughter and grabbed the heart. Her eyes filled with tears as she focused on the crude angel
drawn in the middle, its yellow halo and wings sparkled. Irregular, red crayon strokes encircled
the angel. “Oh Susie! You made a masterpiece.”
“Did?”
“Yes. I love it.” Harriet pulled her blonde-hair strands behind her ears. “Good art needs to be displayed.” She returned to the kitchen and placed the pan in the oven. “Where do you want to put it?”
Scooting from her chair, Susie tapped her temple with her fingers. “Think long time.”
“You do that, sweetie. Daddy would love to see it once he gets home.”
Gray-haired Harriet pressed the heart to her breast. Yes, I remember. “Susie, Susie!” she screamed into the deserted house. You chose the jewelry box. Ring, ring, ring ... Dazed. The old woman replaced the heart into the box, leaving the lid open. She put the phone to her ear. “Hello,” her voice weak.
“Mom, you okay?” Linda, her eldest daughter, asked.
“Fine.”
“You didn’t open that box?”
“Well -”
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
Harriet reached inside her housecoat’s pocket for a kleenex and put it to her nostrils. “My nose always runs.”
“I know. That’s why I carry a box of tissues for you in the car. But, you’re not answering my question.”
Harriet adjusted her body in the bedroom chair. Her hand shook. “I had to,” her voice soft. “Today’s her birthday.”
“I don’t want ...”
“Honey, I think of her every day.” She gazed at the heart. “It’s just more painful when I open that box.”
“Should I come over?” Linda’s voice broke.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve gone through so much.” The phone tumbled onto her lap. Memories flowed of that lost child as she recalled her daughter, standing in front of her giggling with delight.
Her pupils wide-eyed, Susie raised the creation near her chin. “Put in jewelry box. It’s pretty.”
“You don’t want to scotch tape it to the buffet?”
She flung her chubby hands to her hips. “No, inside box.”
Harriet lowered her head to the child. “That’s where it will go, then.” They marched up the stairs. She lifted the lid. “I guess I’ve been saving that box for you since I never put any jewelry in it.
Susie caressed the lining. “Soft. Color?”
“Silver. The same color as your spoon and fork.”
Her eyes beamed. “May I close it?”
“Of course, but remember Daddy will want to see it.”
“Uh-huh.”
They hurried down the stairs. The car roared into the driveway.
Susie smiled then bolted out the open door.
Harriet and Linda followed. They wanted to make sure she did not run into the street.
Rushing to meet him, Susie missed a porch step, fell forward and landed head first on the
pavement. She did not move.
Shaking, Harriet grasped that homespun creation again, the phone still in her lap. She smiled. God took her to Heaven. Inhaling a deep breath, she thrust the angel-heart to her breasts. Her Down Syndrome gone. She’s perfect there.
# # #
Linda knocked. Her hand shook as she inserted the key into the lock. She opened the door. “Mom! Mom!” She searched the downstairs. Taking two steps at a time, she ran up the stairs. She stared at her mother from across the room. Her mother’s head rested on the chair’s arm, her eyes motionless. Trembling, Linda stepped closer. She gasped. Her sister’s heart cradled in her mother’s bosom, her dead fingers clutching the silver lining.
by Janet Syas Nitsick,
author of the www.Christianstoryteller.com Best of Year book, Seasons of the Soul
Harriet’s wrinkled hand pulled the treasured-wooden box from her dresser drawer. She stroked its carved etchings. I can do this. I can do this. Gathering strength, she lifted the latch, which exposed its silver lining. Her fingers caressed the velvet as she grabbed the homemade heart. Tears slid down her cheeks. She glanced from the paper imperfection, not wanting to damage it. Grabbing a tissue, she wiped her face and focused on the possession - a little yellower than when she last looked at it but beautiful none the less. The heart’s rugged edges grazed her finger tips. I remember the day Susie made this.
Susie’s curly, golden-blonde hair bounced as she bent her head to draw a heart. The nine-year-old smiled. “Mommy, Mommy, made heart.”
“Of course, I knew you could do it.” Harriet opened the oven door, used the pot holders to lift a cake from the rack and set the pan on the range top to cool.
Picking up the scissors, Susie inserted her thumb and stubby fingers into the handles. She angled the scissors, snipped along the diagonal line then placed the scissors on the table. “Hard work!” she yelled, and brushed the paper scraps away from her.
Harriet stepped toward her daughter. Leaning over the girl’s shoulder, she examined the jagged handiwork. “Very nice, sweetheart.” She wiggled into the small chair beside her. She looked into her child’s blue eyes and rubbed her hand. “Does it hurt?”
She nodded. “But big girl now. Dressed myself.”
Harriet grinned and brushed the loose hairs from her daughter’s eyes. “Yes, you’ve learned a lot. Want to rest?”
“Help!” Susie pointed her finger at the heart’s rounded edges.
Harriet grasped the creation. “I’ll hold this while you cut.”
Susie returned her fingers into the curved handles and cut. Large chunks dropped onto the table. “Nice?” she asked, raising the heart - with its left side taller than the right - to her chest. “Perfect just like you.” She kissed her daughter’s pudgy cheeks.
“Friend Davy colored his.”
“Do you want to do the same?”
“Please Mommy.” Her lips turned up into a wide smile. Susie pushed the chair back and pulled her stout body upward.
“Wait until I get the crayons.”
“I’ll obey.” She clomped her feet on the floor while she waited for her mother to return. “Know these colors.” Picking a yellow and red crayon, Susie paused then continued. “Shiny.”
“Yes, very bright.” Harriet laughed. “I’ll leave you alone. You call me when done.” Out of the corner of her eye, she gazed at her daughter’s intense strokes. Don’t want to interfere. She opened the back door, the room stuffy from the heated oven and recent rain shower. The kitchen clock ticked away the minutes. Harriet tightened her apron strings then re-examined the meat-loaf recipe. She inhaled the pungent aroma of the onions as she added them to the hamburger. Grabbing the rolling pin, she crunched the crackers into small bits, stirred them in and pressed the mixture into the pan.
“Done!” Susie’s eyes twinkled. She clasped her fingers around the fat crayons to place them back in the box.
“Can’t wait to see it.” Harriet wiped her hands on her apron. She stepped toward her daughter and grabbed the heart. Her eyes filled with tears as she focused on the crude angel
drawn in the middle, its yellow halo and wings sparkled. Irregular, red crayon strokes encircled
the angel. “Oh Susie! You made a masterpiece.”
“Did?”
“Yes. I love it.” Harriet pulled her blonde-hair strands behind her ears. “Good art needs to be displayed.” She returned to the kitchen and placed the pan in the oven. “Where do you want to put it?”
Scooting from her chair, Susie tapped her temple with her fingers. “Think long time.”
“You do that, sweetie. Daddy would love to see it once he gets home.”
Gray-haired Harriet pressed the heart to her breast. Yes, I remember. “Susie, Susie!” she screamed into the deserted house. You chose the jewelry box. Ring, ring, ring ... Dazed. The old woman replaced the heart into the box, leaving the lid open. She put the phone to her ear. “Hello,” her voice weak.
“Mom, you okay?” Linda, her eldest daughter, asked.
“Fine.”
“You didn’t open that box?”
“Well -”
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
Harriet reached inside her housecoat’s pocket for a kleenex and put it to her nostrils. “My nose always runs.”
“I know. That’s why I carry a box of tissues for you in the car. But, you’re not answering my question.”
Harriet adjusted her body in the bedroom chair. Her hand shook. “I had to,” her voice soft. “Today’s her birthday.”
“I don’t want ...”
“Honey, I think of her every day.” She gazed at the heart. “It’s just more painful when I open that box.”
“Should I come over?” Linda’s voice broke.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve gone through so much.” The phone tumbled onto her lap. Memories flowed of that lost child as she recalled her daughter, standing in front of her giggling with delight.
Her pupils wide-eyed, Susie raised the creation near her chin. “Put in jewelry box. It’s pretty.”
“You don’t want to scotch tape it to the buffet?”
She flung her chubby hands to her hips. “No, inside box.”
Harriet lowered her head to the child. “That’s where it will go, then.” They marched up the stairs. She lifted the lid. “I guess I’ve been saving that box for you since I never put any jewelry in it.
Susie caressed the lining. “Soft. Color?”
“Silver. The same color as your spoon and fork.”
Her eyes beamed. “May I close it?”
“Of course, but remember Daddy will want to see it.”
“Uh-huh.”
They hurried down the stairs. The car roared into the driveway.
Susie smiled then bolted out the open door.
Harriet and Linda followed. They wanted to make sure she did not run into the street.
Rushing to meet him, Susie missed a porch step, fell forward and landed head first on the
pavement. She did not move.
Shaking, Harriet grasped that homespun creation again, the phone still in her lap. She smiled. God took her to Heaven. Inhaling a deep breath, she thrust the angel-heart to her breasts. Her Down Syndrome gone. She’s perfect there.
# # #
Linda knocked. Her hand shook as she inserted the key into the lock. She opened the door. “Mom! Mom!” She searched the downstairs. Taking two steps at a time, she ran up the stairs. She stared at her mother from across the room. Her mother’s head rested on the chair’s arm, her eyes motionless. Trembling, Linda stepped closer. She gasped. Her sister’s heart cradled in her mother’s bosom, her dead fingers clutching the silver lining.
God inspires special stories. This was one of them. I wanted to enter a contest, and this story began simply by looking at different heart designs during the Valentine season. I did not start with a direction in mind, but the Lord guided it to its touching conclusion. My family is unusual, which I do not want to expose here or it could reveal too much of the content of this story. However, if you visit my Web site: www.JanetSyasNitsick.com you will see the background that intertwines its way into "The Silver Lining." My prayer is for this heartfelt story to stay with for a long, long time.
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