HAVING HOPE

By Lorri Meyer

HAVING HOPE is a fiction novel about Victoria DeFeo and her struggles when she realized that her husband, Evan has family secrets. Nobody talks about who is buried at St. Theresa's Cemetery. None of the young mothers have baby showers in the Vento family, until after the baby is born and is healthy. Victo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lorri Meyer
• Release date: Aug 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956140033

Book preview

Chapter 1

Who puts a cemetery on Hope Street? I burst out with the rhetorical question meant to break the silence that filled the car the entire ride here. Evan was at the wheel and me in the passengers’ seat. We sat idling at the red light at the intersection. I could see the street sign on the corner of the street of the cemetery. The cemetery was enclosed by a four-foot wall made of stacked stone. I continue my rant. If the cemetery was here first, then why would they name the street Hope Street? What were they hoping would happen on Hope Street? Were they hoping someone would be resurrected? With no response from Evan, I retreated into my thoughts.

They just weren’t thinking. And when I refer to them, I mean whoever oversees the naming of the streets. Whether it is the mayors, the builders or even some well-respected residents. They weren’t thinking that possibly one day a person like me would be driving to this cemetery, not having any hope. While staring out of the car window, I kept hoping that this would eventually turn out to be a bad dream, and I was going to wake up any minute back at my desk, at work, in the office where these chains of events all began.

Everyone in the office had been working overtime during the past two months. As an accountant, January and February are our busiest times of the year, and with me being pregnant, maybe I put my head down on my desk and nodded off for a nap and maybe I'm dreaming?

I bounced these silly thoughts around in my head to avoid thinking about what has happened to me these past couple of days. Evan squeezed my hand bringing me back to the present then, he let it go to use both hands to turn the car into the entrance of St. Theresa’s cemetery on Hope Street. He drove his four-year old 1991 white Pontiac through the two stone pillars, which stood about ten feet high.

Honey, there’s a crowd of people here. Evan said.

I studied the group of people gathered in the middle of the cemetery. Who are all those people? We didn’t publish an obituary. I just thought it was going to be close family. I think I see some of the girls from work. And I see your aunt’s car, and my sisters came too?

Evan stopped the car. That’s close family, Evan reminded me.

I didn’t think they would drive up from Long Island for this. There’s no wake, no church service? Nobody knew her, or got the chance to know her? I could feel my eyes swelling up and felt my throat tighten.

Honey, people came because they want to, or because they don’t know what to do or say, they may try to empathize with you or maybe they just want to give you a hug.

As the car rolled along the paved maze in and around the headstones toward the line of cars, I realized how many people cared about me, about us. Evan was right. He drove to the front of the line and pulled into the spot everyone left for us in front the family plot. It wasn’t just a couple of tombstones with the family name etched on them. No, I was looking at a big granite mausoleum with a statue of the sacred Mother Mary presiding on top and the family name of Vento etched below her. I stared curiously at the statue. I was getting a feeling best described as Deja-vu. Maybe it’s not Deja-vu, but it made me recall a vision or a dream I had when I was in high school. It was such a weird event that it stayed with me all these years. There are many stories of people having visions of the holy mother, I believe I was one of them. My visit was when I was about 15 years old. I was sleeping and a banging noise woke me up in the middle of the night, it was coming from outside the house. Once I was awake, I got out of bed and walked to the window to pull up the bottom sash. When I peeked my head through the opening, a flurry of wind blew my hair back into my face. One of the branches of the mature oak tree in the front yard was blowing in the wind and hitting the roof of the house.

With the mystery solved, I closed the window. I glanced at the alarm clock. The numbers glowing red 4:50 a.m. I clambered back into bed and tugged the blankets up to my neck and closed my eyes. Everything is going to be alright my child. A woman’s voice spoke. I opened my eyes to what looked like rays of white light and a woman in a white full-length dress cinched at the waist by a rope. Draped around her shoulders was a blue cape. I sat up in bed and stared at her. I blinked my eyes a few times trying hard to refocus my eyesight. Had I fallen back to sleep, and I’m dreaming this, I thought. But she said it again. Everything is going to be alright my child. I rubbed my eyes with my hands. One moment the woman was before me, the next moment she was gone.

Seeing that statue on top of the mausoleum made me feel that sense of Deja-vu, not as if I’ve been here before, but maybe what I saw that night when I was a teenager was a premonition, of me now looking up at the statue. Maybe she was trying to warn me that I was going to be okay. And that’s the part I didn’t understand, how could any of this ever be, okay? As Evan parked in front of the mausoleum, I counted six people buried in there. I’ve never been here before. It belonged to Evan’s grandmother and some of his aunts and uncles were the ones buried inside that boulder. I was looking around for the other graves. There were some with flat markers, I couldn’t see from this angle inside the car. I reminded myself to look at them later.

Just as we were parking the car, the song Blessed from Elton John came onto the radio that caused me to sit motionless. The words so defining.

As I opened my eyes, looking at my lap, I still looked at least five months pregnant. I hoped I was dreaming. My hand rubbed my belly habitually, but nothing was moving inside me anymore. My belly felt as if it was a bowl of jelly and the only thing my hands were holding was a crumpled tissue. The crumpled tissue was inside my hands, my hands between my legs and my head bent down looking into my lap, not wanting to get out and face any of this.

This child will be in my head, just like the song says. I’ll never see her walk or talk her first words. Were her eyes green? Or blue? I didn’t see them; I didn’t have time. The doctors whisked her away from me so fast the minute I delivered her. Our baby wasn’t blessed. She couldn’t be blessed. There were so many things wrong with her. Why do I feel like my baby was cursed? Or is it me who’s being cursed? Why didn’t those doctors find it earlier? I cried into the tissue, folding it and then blowing my nose with the remnants of the soggy tissue.

Honey, you can’t think like that. Evan replied.

Oh really? Why not?

Honey. I’m so sorry you have to go through this, I am, but right now we have to go do this.

I just hope I can get through this without collapsing.

When I finally looked out of the car window, I saw the crowd of people gathered for us. Most everyone was wearing their long wool dress coats. My girlfriends were in their long skirts and pumps. I will bet they are thankful for the fake green turf they were standing on instead of the six inches of snow that blanketed the rest of the cemetery.

As I got out of the car looking down on the ground, I was convinced that the only thing I did right today was wear my snow boots. I didn’t know what the other mothers did. Did they have a little ceremony too? I contemplated if I should have come today. Are we going to have a regular funeral? Who took care of arranging all this? I didn’t. Maybe it was Evan’s mother? Yes, I think I remember him telling me she was going to call and make the arrangements and for us not to worry about it. I wish my mother and father were alive and at the same time I’m glad they aren’t. I’m not sure if they would be able to handle this. If there is an unseen benefit in their early passing's was that if there is a God in Heaven, they will be to receive my angel.

We approached the somber crowd of people who came to pay their respects. My best friend, Loretta was the closest to me and approached me first. She threw her arms around my shoulders and towed me in in for a hug. I’m here for you Tori, okay? Take your time and rest and grieve and don’t think twice about work. Okay? She straightened her arms and looked me in the eyes for confirmation. She’s a little bit of thing, one hundred pounds, soaking wet and barely clearing five feet and that’s with her heels. I felt her bump under her coat. I know, she was full of sorrow too. Her due date is two months behind mine. We didn’t plan to become pregnant at the same time, it just happened that way. Both of us pregnant with our second child also. She had a daughter who was two and I had my son, Jacan who is eighteen months. I was twenty-eight and she was twenty-nine, and I never let her forget it. We worked in the accounting department. Loretta and I hit it off the first day she started working at the company and have been inseparable lunch partners ever since.

Krissy grabbed me next and squeezed me tight and said to me in her embrace, Sweetie, I am so sorry. I would never have left you in the hospital if I knew that it wasn’t going to be okay. I should have waited.

She always smelled good. Estee Lauder’s Beautiful engulfed me as she hugged me. Oh, Stop it. You’re the one who drove me to the hospital, someone had to. I said to her and then let out a couple of coughing cries into her neck, we embraced tighter. We just thought I was having premature contractions; nobody knew this was going to happen. No one did. That was a lie, sort of. Someone should have known; it was their job to know, and they missed it. Not now! I told myself.

There you go, trying to console my feelings and it’s yours I should be consoling. I’m sorry. If you need anything, please call me honey. Promise me you will? Krissy pleaded. I could see the tears puddle in her big blue eyes, neatly outlined in black. Her long, medium brown hair with its’ blonde streaks draped her shoulders that topped her plump stature.

I will, I’ll call the office tomorrow and we’ll talk. I love you. Thanks for coming sweetie. I hugged her again.

Oh sis, I’m so sorry, My sister Pam hugged me tight. We’ll talk later.

Tori come here honey—we’re here for you, whatever you need. How’s Evan doing? Who’s watching Jacan now? Liza inquired. She’s the older sister of the three of us. She had a habit of asking at least two questions before she gave you a chance to answer the first.

He’s with Jeannie, Evan’s cousin’s wife, I answered between sniffs. I didn’t bother with the other question. She could ask him herself. I always played it that way. I would decide which of the two questions was the more important of the two and give her one answer.

Oh okay, Liza said. Are you having people back to the house? Do you need me to do anything for you?

I think Evan’s mother took care of everything, follow us back to her house, I said and moved down the line to my supervisor.

Hello François. Thanks for coming.

My condolences Tori, to you and Evan, let me know if I can do anything for you. Take as much time as you need, and do not, and I mean DO NOT worry about work. Will you do that for me? His French accent was strong, but he spoke excellent English.

I will. Thanks, François. He gave me a bear hug.

The people who didn’t know what to say, I hugged. I cried in the arms of others. Letting my friends and family try to console me seemed to lighten my heart a little, until the black town car pulled up and parked.

A man in a dark suit got out of the driver’s side. He came around to open the rear door to allow Father John out. Father was the priest who married Evan and me. The priest was dressed in a white robe with a purple stole which hung around his neck. It lay flat against his torso. The small group of people simultaneously turned their heads to follow the movements of these men. Father John adjusted his robe and picked up his Bible and waited by the car for the driver to close the door and open the trunk. The man in the dark suit stood at the rear of the car opening the trunk, he reached into the trunk for something. Once he closed the trunk door, you could see that in one hand, he held a white box, the size of a cooler and with the other, he shut the trunk. For a moment, I was puzzled. What is he doing with a cooler? And then, it hit me, it wasn’t a cooler, it was the coffin. I was confused for a second because I didn’t expect it to be white.

Father John walked in front of the man in the dark suit. He extracted a bottle from the pocket of his robe and opened it. As he walked, he shook the bottle of holy water along the path for the undertaker and the baby in her small coffin. That’s my baby, my baby girl. She died two days ago when I was about 6 and a half months pregnant and now, I’m going to bury her. That’s when I cried out. That’s when it hit me.

Father John approached me. He gently took both my hands inside his and brought them together and patted them a few times. My lips were quivering, and the tears dripped along my cheeks. I exhaled one deep breath. Tori, Evan…tell me, has this child been baptized?

Yes, the hospital Chaplin baptized her. I sobbed.

Okay, dear. Did you give her a name?

Lily. I replied.

He began the ceremony, and I stood there staring at the white box lying on the green turf at my feet. Evan had his arm around me. I kept shoving used tissues into the left pocket of my brown wool coat and grabbing a new one from the right side.

Family and friends, we come together to remember the life of Lily De Feo and trust her into God's endless love and welcome her into his Kingdom. Being children of God, and of the Catholic faith, we ask God for his comfort and his mercy to be with us and to put our hearts and minds at rest, especially that of Tori and Evan and on those who were blessed to love Lily during her short stay with us.

Let us bow our heads in prayer: Our God who is a caring and loving God, let us comfort one another, let us help one another to begin to heal our broken hearts. Ensure us that the love we have for Lily was not shameful and make it a part of the abundance of blessings you are now streaming out of your kingdom on to us. May we be blessed by the remembrance of her, and with the knowledge that she dwells with you forever in happiness and hope. Help us through this time of grief with the love and compassion we need - in the name of Christ, our Lord. Amen.

AMEN. Everyone repeated.

"When babies die, we ask, how is this possible? And why does this have to happen to us? We are not here today to answer