Invisible Touch

Invisible Touch
by Vivian Gilbert Zabel

         The darkening sky added to the pressure on Lora Sims. As she stood beside the casket holding her husband of over forty-five years, she glanced up to the storm clouds rolling above. Even the sky will cry, she thought. Even the sky will cry because Roger is gone.

         Beside her, Lora’s oldest child, the son so much like his father, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Mom, the cemetery crew needs to, uh, finish the grave.” His other arm wrapped her against him in a hug. “Let’s go home, okay?”

          “Just one second, honey, please.” Lora moved from his hold to stand closer to the mahogany box holding Roger’s remains. She touched the top, running one finger along the satin finish until it reached the spray of red and white roses draped across the middle. She brushed her hand across the blooms and paused over a white bud. She pulled it from the display before doing the same with a red one. Her eyes closed, and she touched the roses to her lips. With a deep sigh, she opened watering eyes, took one more glance at the casket, and turned toward her son. “Matt, I ... I...”

         Matt grabbed his mother before her knees hit the ground. His younger brothers, Shane and Chris, ran from where they waited beside the limousine. Shane helped Matt half-carry their mother to the vehicle sitting in the gravel drive. Chris hurried to open a door so that the other brothers could ease their mother into the back seat beside two of her daughters-in-law. All three young men slid inside the funeral home limousine, taking seats along the sides.

         Lora brushed a trembling hand across her forehead as she continued to grasp the roses in the other. “I’m ...” Her voice broke. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat before trying to speak again. “I’m sorry.”

          “Mom, don’t apologize.” Chris leaned from one of the side seats, patting her hand. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

         One of the funeral home directors stooped inside the open door to ask, “Mrs. Sims, should we take you to the emergency room?”

         The woman opened her eyes, raised her head, and tried to smile. “No, Mr. Thomas, I just need to go home.” She turned to Mary, Chris’ wife. “Where’s June?” Lora twisted to look past Mary to Rachel, who sat against the opposite door.

          “She took all the kids on to the house, Mother Lora.” The slender brunette clasped her mother-in-law’s hand. “Mr. Thomas’ son drove them.” Mary nodded as she comforted the older woman.

          “Everyone is okay,” Rachel added.

          Lora sighed a soft stream of air. “That was nice.” Her words seemed more like part of the expelled breath than speech. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. “I’m so tired, just so tired.”

         Later that night, the weariness Lora felt earlier intensified until she couldn’t manage to remove her clothes and prepare for bed. Staring at the empty bed, no large body to fill one side, she stumbled from the bedroom to the den as tears streamed down her face. She dropped to the love seat in front of the fireplace, sobs racking her body. She curled into a fetal position on the soft leather. “Oh, God, oh, God,” she moaned over and over. The pain in her chest grew until she gasped in distress.

         A hand touched her shoulder. The woman stilled; her eyes widened. Her sobs stopped instantly. She swung her legs over the edge of the sofa as she sat upright, her eyes searching the room. No one. No one. But who ... who touched me? An invisible hand touched the side of her face, brushing tears away. Lora gasped, started to draw back, but paused when a peacefulness filled her mind. Her eyes closed as her body slid sideways onto the love seat.

         The ringing of the telephone punctured the dreams, dreams of sitting across the table from Roger, a dream real as the times they had sat like that over the years. The continued shrill of the phone fought with the confusion of awakening on the love seat, a pillow under her head and an afghan covering her. Before she untangled herself from the cover and the remains of the dream, the phone stopped ringing.

          “Whoever it is will call back,” Lora told herself as she stood and shuffled toward the bedroom. “If it’s important.”

         After visiting the master bath, she walked to the bed, stood by the side, and stared at the smooth spread. “Don’t want to do anything,” she muttered, flipping the spread, blanket, and top sheet back. She slipped out of all her clothes, grabbed the nightgown from under the pillow, and pulled it over her head. Silent tears streaked her cheeks. She crawled into the bed and covered her body, even her head. “Why did you leave me, Roger? Why?”

          Lora’s sobs echoed through the room as her body shook under the covers. Then the cool touch of an invisible hand brushed her hair from her forehead. Soon the sobs lessened and died, and she slept.

          “Mom! Mom!” Lora could hear Shane’s voice calling her, but she didn’t want to waken from the dream. “Mom! Mom!” Shane yelled again.

          Don’t want to ... leave me alone ... want to stay with Roger. She reached across the bed to touch her husband. When her hand touched nothing but bed, her eyes opened. Her hand pounded on the empty side of the bed. “No, no,” she whispered, sitting up in the bed. She covered her face with trembling hands.

          The bedroom door slammed back against the wall. “Mom, why didn’t you answer me? Why didn’t you answer the phone?” Shane rushed into the room followed by his wife, June.

          Lora let her hands slide down her face and then drop to her lap. “I’m sorry. Was that you calling?” She shook her head slightly. “I couldn’t get to the phone in time, and then I just wanted to go back to sleep.”

          “It just scared us when you didn’t answer the phone and then didn’t answer when I called for you here.” Shane sat on the edge of the bed. “We don’t want anything to happen to you, too.”

          Jane carefully stooped her pregnant body and picked up the clothes that Lora dropped on the floor, folding them and placing them on the seat of a rocking chair. “No, Mom, we don’t. Would you like to come stay with us for a few days?” She paused to face her mother-in-law. “We would really like it if you would.”

          Lora studied the faces of the two on each side of her. She could see the worry, the concern in their eyes. “I ... I don’t know. Let me think a bit, okay?” With an effort, she forced a smile. “Maybe you’ll stay for breakfast?”

          “Oh, let me fix it.” Jane waddled toward the door to the hall.

          “No, I meant I would fix breakfast.” Lora threw the covers back and slid out of bed.

          “I’ll tell you what,” Shane announced, “I’ll fix breakfast for my two favorite gals.” He rose to his feet. “Mom, why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll go start cooking.”

         Lora’s thoughts whirled. The dreams have to stop. She stepped into the shower. I can’t worry my kids. They lost Roger, too. She shampooed her hair and washed her body, remembering how Roger liked to help her shower. Stop it! Just stop it! she silently yelled at herself. Roger is gone. Stop the memories for a while.

         After finishing her shower, she dried her short, curly blond hair and wrapped a large bath towel around herself before returning to the bedroom . She removed a pair of rose colored slacks from the closet and underwear and a pink tee-shirt from drawers in the chest against one wall. Pink, my favorite color, but Roger preferred blue, always blue. She dressed as her thoughts tumbled. I can start by wearing what I want.

         Tears welled again, but Lora impatiently brushed them away. No, no more. My kids aren’t going to be worried about me. No.

         After running a brush through her nearly dry hair, she straightened her shoulders and marched from her room to the kitchen. “Ummm ... Sure smells good.” Lora paused by Jane’s chair to give the younger woman a kiss on the cheek. “Hope you’re getting enough rest, sweetie.”

         The fragrance of bacon frying caused Lora’s stomach to remember it hadn’t eaten, or at least much, in some time. It rumbled when she walked up behind her son at the range. “What can I do to help?”

          “Nothing, Mom. Have a seat. I’ll fix the eggs as soon as the bacon is finished.” Shane glanced over his shoulder. “I did let Jane fix toast.” He chuckled as he returned to cooking.

         After the three completed eating, Lora started stacking dishes. Shane laid a hand on her arm. “Mom, I’ll take care of loading the dishwasher and cleaning up.”

         Lora placed her other hand over his. “Shane, you fixed breakfast, lunch, whatever we had.. I appreciate your help, but, honey, I have to return to normal.” She grinned. “Tell you what, you can help me clean up.” She shook her head. “Oh, my, the memories. I remember when I had to force you to help in the kitchen.”

         Jane stood and began scraping scraps from plates. “You both sit down and visit while I do the kitchen.” When both Lora and Shane opened their mouths to respond, she added, “I’m not crippled, just pregnant. Now, sit.” When both mother and son dropped into the chairs they had just vacated a few minutes earlier, Jane smiled. “Good.”

          “I don’t remember her being so bossy,” Lora muttered.

          “She has become rather more outspoken lately,” her son replied, “but she’s right; we do need to talk.” He reached for one of his mother’s hands. “Mom, would you please come stay with us at least a few days. I know we asked you right after ...” He swallowed before continuing. “We asked after Dad died, but we think you should be with someone for a while.”

          Lora tried to smile as the tears threatened again. She pressed her lips tightly together and closed her eyes a second before meeting her son's eyes. “Shane, I appreciate your concern, and I’m glad you care enough to want me to stay with you, but I really do need to get my life back to normal.” She sighed. “Well, what normal will be now.”

         Once Shane and Jane left, Lora wandered through the still house: no whistling or off-key singing from Roger, no roar of power tools from the garage, no calls for her to come see this or hold that. Roger may have retired from his job, but he managed to fill his time with projects that kept them both busy. Now quietness filled the air.

         What am I going to do with my time? the woman wondered while fighting tears. I can’t cry all the time. Still the tears flooded and sobs shook her frame. She stumbled to her room, crawling back into the rumpled bed. As her body trembled with the grief and loss, she felt the same invisible touch, a soothing hand, rub her back, bringing a peace and calm. Soon she slept.

         When Lora awoke the next morning. She scurried from bed and made it. I don’t want to sleep my life away. She looked around the room as if searching for something. What can I do; what should I do. She walked to the window, peeked out through the blinds, and smiled. “I haven’t had a good stroll in ages,” she announced. “I’ll take one this morning.”

         Leaving her house, Lora started for the park two blocks away. Wish Jaylee was with me. I miss taking my walks with her. Lora paused at the walk leading to her neighbor’s porch. Why not? All she can do is say she can’t. Lora strode to the front door of the brick house, ringing the bell when she arrived.

         A slender woman with short white hair opened the door, her eyes widening when she spied the slightly plump woman. “Lora! Oh, my.” She threw her arms around her friend. “I’m sorry I haven’t been over since the funeral.”

         Lora returned Jaylee’s hug. “It’s okay.” She stepped back. “I’ve missed our walks. Want to go with me?”

          “Now?” Jaylee looked down at the tee-shirt and slacks she wore. “Sure. Let me get my keys and a bottle of water.” She stepped back into the entryway. “Come on in.”

          Lora followed the other woman into the house. “I’m sorry I didn’t continue walking even if Roger ...”

          “It’s okay. I know he kept you busy once he retired.” Jaylee opened her purse and removed a set of keys, which she slipped into a pocket. “Now, the water.”

          Nearly an hour later as the two women neared Jaylee’s house, she asked, “Why don’t you join me for breakfast? I baked some cranberry muffins earlier.”

         Lora grinned. “Sounds like old times. Yes, I’d like that, but tomorrow, I’ll fix breakfast.”

         That night, Lora slept without any dreams troubling her or the touch of the invisible hand. She awoke refreshed and alert, ready to take a walk with her friend and then to prepare breakfast for the two of them. For the next week, the neighbors followed the same schedule: a walk to the park, four treks around the paths, then back to one or the other’s home for breakfast. Lora filled the rest of the day doing light house work and helping at the local senior center. She fell into bed each night tired and ready for sleep.

         Three weeks after her husband’s funeral, the day started with rain. Lora and Jaylee shared breakfast but didn’t walk. After Jaylee returned to her house and the kitchen cleaned, Lora prowled the spotless house. Not scheduled to work at the senior center, she had nothing to occupy herself. She tried reading, watching television, but she couldn’t concentrate. She entered the bedroom that she and Roger had shared for over forty years.

          “Guess I could start going through Roger’s things,” she muttered. “I could put some of his clothes in bags for the thrift store.” She opened “his” closet and stared at the hanger-laden racks. She heaved a loud sigh. “Where do I start? I don’t know ...” Grief grabbed her without warning. Sobs shook her body as they tore through her throat. “Oh, dear God, no.” She dropped to the floor as the loss overcame her again.

          The invisible touch on her hair caused her head to snap up. Her eyes searched the room and found no one. “Just what I need, to lose my mind.” Lora wiped the tears from her face. “Enough of this. I won’t fold. Nope, I won’t.”

         She climbed to her feet and marched to the utility room, where she pulled a pile of paper sacks from a shelf. Returning to the bedroom, Lora yanked shirts, slacks, and suits from the open closet. When all the sacks were filled, she carried them to her car in the garage and placed them in the back seat. She half ran back into the house to grab her purse. Settling herself in the driver’s seat of the car, she pushed the garage door opener and backed the car out of the garage. She pushed the button again to close the door before driving away.

         That night, Lora fell into a deep sleep. The bed dipping on the other side from where she lay awakened her. She could see the form of a body sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned over and clicked on the bedside light before rolling back to see who was in her room.

          “Roger?” She sat up as she stared at her husband. “What are you doing here? You’re dead.”

          “Yes, Pet, I realize that.” Roger quirked an eyebrow.

          Lora felt rage flare. “I always hated when you called me that. I told you over and over that I’m not your pet, but you never listened. Just like you never listened to me, not if you didn’t already agree.” She slid off the bed away from him. “Just like you wouldn’t listen when I told you not to go on that motorcycle, told you it was dangerous when you didn’t know how to handle one.” She stood glaring at Roger as he simply stared back. “But, no, you decided you wanted to try it, went too fast.” She stopped and stared back at him. “You made me so angry, getting yourself killed.”

         Roger shrugged and stood. “So do something about it. Live, don’t give up, find something to keep you going. You relied on me too much.”

         Lora fisted her hands on her hips. “Relied on you? Why ... why ...” She whirled and stomped to the window before pivoting to face him again, but the room behind her was dark and empty. The next thing she knew, the sun was shining through the window, and she lay in the middle of the bed, alone.

          “I’m losing my mind, plain losing my mind,” she murmured as she climbed out of bed. “Should have told him when he was alive that he made me mad enough to spit.” Shaking her head, she prepared for the day.

         Over the next several months, Lora rebuilt a life for herself. The invisible touch left her, as did the dreams. The tears flowed less and less. Since Roger had left her rather well off financially, she didn’t need a paying job, but she did volunteer work several hours a day. She and Jaylee walked at least three mornings a week until winter’s cold invaded. Then they joined a group that used the local mall for protected strolls. One morning as they chatted and walked, a man stepped from a store and bumped into Lora.

          “I’m sorry.” He grabbed her arms so that she wouldn’t fall. “Are you okay?

          Lora gave an embarrassed grin. “I ... uh, yes, I think so.” She glanced at the twinkling blue eyes above her. “I guess I should watch where I’m walking and talk less.” She pulled back a step. “Thanks for keeping me from falling.”

          The man chuckled. “I don’t have any excuse except I wasn’t paying attention, and you’re welcome.” He stuck out his right hand. “I’m Harrison Conner, Harry to my friends.”

         Lora stared at his hand a moment before placing hers in it. “I’m ... I’m Lora Sims.” She removed her hand from his and waved it toward the woman beside her. “This is my friend, Jaylee Thompson.”

         The rest of the month, Harry joined the group everyday they walked, and he ended up beside Lora each time. He made her laugh with silly jokes and wry comments. A week before Thanksgiving, he asked, “Lora, I have tickets to the Christmas philharmonic concert. Would you join me?”

         Before Lora could answer, Jaylee did. “That would be great, Lora. Oh, you have to go.”

         Her eyes swiveled from Harry to Jaylee and back to Harry. Oh, Jaylee, I can’t refuse him now. He would be so embarrassed. Lora took a deep breath. “I, uh, well, I do like the philharmonic. So, sure, when and what time?”

         The night of the concert, Lora sat in the rocking chair in her bedroom, the phone in her hands. I have to call him, cancel. Why didn’t I stop this sooner?

         She felt pressure on her hand, pressure that moved her hand to replace the phone on the table beside the chair. She looked around to see what was forcing her hand to move. Nothing, no one occupied the room but her. She struggled to her feet. “What is going on?” An invisible hand grabbed her shoulder and pushed her to the closet before moving down her arm to her hand, forcing it to open the closet. Then her hand reached for a hanger holding a green velvet dress. The touch left her hand and took her shoulder again, spinning her around and sending her to the bed.

          “Okay, okay. Let me go. I’ll get dressed. I’ll go with Harry,” she yelled. The invisible hand disappeared. Lora could no long feel the touch.

         Lora never felt the invisible touch again. Well, except a few months later, something seemed to brush her hair as Harry and she exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife.