Hearts at Home (10 page)

“Perhaps that is why the Scriptures are silent about so many aspects of this place. Tell me, dear one—if you could push a button and transport all your loved ones to this place, would you do it?”

“In a heartbeat.” She looked around. “Is there a button like that?”

Her grandfather laughed. “No. Every human above the age of understanding still has to make his or her own reservation. And God has a plan for his people on earth— the world below is sort of like kindergarten, the place where we learn the basics of life and gain a smattering of wisdom. Living on earth is like riding a bike with training wheels—it's here, in heaven, that we really learn how to live, and think, and explore.” He shrugged. “Heaven is the greatest adventure mankind will ever know, and this is just the beginning. There is so much more to come.”

“I should have listened better,” Olympia whispered, addressing the Spirit of God. He was so close she could see the shimmer of his glory with every movement of the wind. He had been close on earth, too, dwelling in her frail frame, but most of the time her mind had been too clouded by earthly concerns to be aware of his presence.

Speechless with wonder, Olympia wrapped her translucent fingers around Jean Luc's shimmering arm. “Tell me more,” she said. “We have time, don't we?”

“My dear Olympia, we have an eternity to share.”

By 2:45, a decent crowd had gathered at the dock, though Annie had to peer through layers of winter wrappings to see who was who. Birdie and Bea were encased in scarves and matching wool coats; Vernie wore a navy blue ski mask through which her reddened eyes shone like weak flashlights. Stanley Bidderman stood loyally behind Vernie, probably the only man of Annie's acquaintance who would allow his wife to wear such a getup to such a dignified occasion, but, then again, not many island men
were trying to make up for twenty years of neglect.

Charles and Babette stood beside the tiny clapboard ferry office, sheltering their son, Georgie, from the frigid wind, while Mike and Dana Klackenbush huddled with Buddy Franklin and Russell Higgs. Barbara, Russell's wife, was tucked into bed at the bed-and-breakfast, still recovering from last month's surgery.

Floyd Lansdown stood at the end of the dock, and from where she waited Annie could hear him telling Micah that the town needed its own ferry so they wouldn't have to depend upon Stroble or Crazy Odell. “Course, we need new rubber for the fire engine first,” he yelled, his voice carried by the wind. “But after that, a ferry should be our next priority.”

At three o'clock, with no sign yet of the boat, Annie peered at the faces around her. Though the wind was brisk, no one was grumbling about having to stand out in the cold. The bright sun had brought the temperature up to thirty degrees, but as it inched toward the horizon the air would become frosty.

Still she heard no complaints. Perhaps they were all thinking that stoic Olympia would have been the last to complain if she were waiting on one of them.

Winslow and Edith stood with Cleta, all three of them wearing expressions of profound regret, while Annie waited with Caleb and Dr. Marc. She kept her face turned toward the restless sea, for every few minutes her chin quivered uncontrollably. To stanch the unpredictable geyser of tears, she forced herself to focus on trivial things—had she remembered to feed Tallulah? At the funeral tomorrow, would Micah think to plug in the CD player behind the church piano? The piano would hide the CD player so maybe no one would realize those pure boyish voices were not spilling down from an angel choir. . . .

She was
not,
she assured herself, weeping out of sadness or guilt. Dr. Marc had persuaded her she was not to blame for Olympia's death, and Caleb had convinced her that Olympia was happy in heaven. So her tears could not spring from grief, but must be rising from the fervent, sincere hope that A.J. would be aboard the boat coming from the funeral home.

He knew about this dockside ceremony. She'd called last night to share every detail. She'd wanted to hear him say she was doing a good job and holding up well under the stress. Most of all she had wanted to hear him promise he'd move heaven and earth to be with her during this difficult time, but though she had given him several opportunities, he had not made those assurances.

But he was a busy man. And perhaps he meant to surprise her.

As Floyd cried out that a vessel had appeared on the horizon, with everything in her heart Annie hoped A.J. was aboard.

“That ain't no funeral home cruiser,” Floyd called, shielding his eyes with his hand. “That looks like Odell's boat.”

Annie closed her eyes as a tremor shot through her.

“Ayuh.” Russell Higgs, a lobsterman who knew every boat within miles by the cut of her prow, stepped closer to Annie. “That's definitely the
Sally
. I'm thinking the man from the funeral home didn't want to risk his nice cruiser in this chop. The sea's downright gormy today.”

Annie opened her eyes to a squint, imagining what Olympia would say if she knew she was being ferried to her funeral on the cluttered deck of an aging boat piloted by a daredevil seasoned citizen.

She stood on tiptoe, scanning the
Sally
's deck for some sign of a tall, handsome doctor. Odell was easy to spot at the helm—a skinny man wearing a fluorescent orange life preserver over his oilskins.

Russell laughed. “Look at 'im. His granddaughter makes him wear that ridiculous vest. I hear she ties him into it before she'll let him out of the house.”

“He looks like a pumpkin.” Floyd turned to wink at Annie. “But never you fear, sweetheart, he'll have your Aunt Olympia safe on the dock in another five minutes.”

Edith moved closer, her gloved hands twisting the end of her scarf. “I do hope he remembered the roses, Annie. If he forgot, it's a sure bet he won't want to go back to the florist to fetch them. Men don't set much store by such things.”

“Where do they get roses in winter?” Winslow asked, his eyes searching his wife's face. “I've always wondered.”

“I think they fly them in from Argentina, or maybe California.” Teetering from side to side, Edith peered at the approaching boat. “If Odell remembered, I do hope he put the roses down in the hold. I don't want the boxes to get all wet from the sea spray.”

“I think I see flowers.” Winslow slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded at the approaching boat. “Aren't those roses on the casket?”

Annie turned toward the ocean, where the wind was sending showers of spray over the
Sally
. Her mittened hand rose to her lips as she realized that Pastor Winslow spoke the truth—now she could see the casket on the deck, its surface covered by a blanket of roses.

She held her breath as the boat came closer. Olympia had always said Odell was one brick short of a full load, and today he seemed bent on either proving her point or taking some kind of revenge. Annie could see him grinning as he steered toward the Heavenly Daze dock. The bow dipped in a swell and rose again, sending a cool splash of spray over Olympia's polished casket. He had just passed the anchored
Barbara Jean,
Russell Higgs's lobster boat, when—

“Ohmigoodness!” Winslow cried. “Where'd that come from?”

The assembled crowd gasped in concert as a rogue wave rolled in from the sea. Odell cut the wheel sharply, trying to turn and ride the monster, but his response was too little, too late. Lifting the
Sally
from the water as easily as if she were a toy, the surge carried the boat for a moment, her mast tilting at a dangerous angle, then crashed over the
Sally
in a roar that left Annie gasping for breath. The boat rolled onto its side, and everything on the deck—seaman, lobster traps, lines, and casket—went into the sea.

Edith Wickam screamed, Bea collapsed into Birdie's arms, and Vernie released a most unladylike exclamation. While Pastor Winslow moved his lips in silent prayer, Salt Gribbon and Russell Higgs raced toward the dory tied to the dock.

Annie staggered forward. “I should go with you,” she told Russell as he jumped down into the boat.

“You stay here, Annie.” He settled onto the thwart as Charles Graham cast off the line. “We'll do what we can.”

After a moment woven of eternity, Odell surfaced in the foaming water, his fluorescent orange jacket signaling like a beacon. A few feet away, Olympia's casket trailed in Odell's wake, still covered by its blanket of roses.

“Godfrey mighty!” Cleta Lansdown shook her finger at Russell and Salt, who were rowing like dervishes. “You gotta get Odell outta that water quick! The old man is liable to freeze clear down to his long-handles!”

“And Aunt Olympia!” Annie pointed toward the brown box rocking on the waves. “Get her, too!”

The sound of creaking wood sent horror snaking down her backbone. Out on the sea, the
Sally
groaned, her mast tilting starboard until it touched the water. In front of the vessel, floating amid the feather-white water and several painted buoys, Odell bobbed in his orange life preserver . . . only yards from Aunt Olympia's casket.

A shocked silence fell over the group on the dock as the dory reached Odell. Russell and Salt hauled the old man into the boat, then the three of them sat in silence as the
Sally
righted herself, then tipped and slipped beneath the waves, stern first.

“Just like
Titanic,”
Dana Klackenbush whispered, one hand pressed to her cheek. “That old boat went down just like the ship in the movie.”

Annie stood transfixed, her eyes trained on the flower-strewn box. Olympia's casket floated toward the vortex where the ship had disappeared, spun twice, then caught another wave that pushed it eastward, toward the open sea.

She couldn't speak. She lifted her hand and pointed to the oblong container moving steadily away from Heavenly Daze.

The rescuers had no time for the dead; they were working to save a life still hanging in the balance. Bending and flexing in rhythm, they rowed Odell to shore.

“We'd better get a fire going.” Edith tugged on her husband's sleeve. “Odell's going to require warming up.”

“I'll get my medicine bag,” Dr. Marc announced. He glanced at the pastor. “Shall I meet you at the parsonage?”

“Frenchman's Fairest is closer,” Caleb interjected. “And our fire is already blazing. I put on a new log just before leaving the house.”

Like marionettes on a unified string, the three men turned to Annie. “That okay with you, dear?” Pastor Winslow asked, softening his tone. “We'll need to get Odell defrosted as soon as possible.”

With an effort, Annie hauled her gaze from the sea and returned her attention to the people on the dock. “What about Aunt Olympia?” She met the doctor's gaze. “How are we going to get her?”

The doctor's eyes gentled. “Caskets are airtight, dear. Unless damaged in some way, they'll float forever. We'll send Russell out to search once we get Odell settled in a warm place.”

“Okay.” Pressing her hand to the side of her face, she forced herself to concentrate on the emergency at hand. “Take the front room of the house; put Odell on the sofa. You can push it closer to the fireplace if you like.”

We have plenty of room, since the casket's obviously not
coming any time soon.

She glanced back toward the water, where a handful of long-stemmed roses marked the spot where the
Sally
had gone down. Was no one worried about the boat?

As the dory pulled up to the dock, Charles Graham and Buddy Franklin reached down to grab Odell Butcher. The old sailor kept yelling that he was fine, he could walk by himself, but even from across the dock Annie could see that his lips were blue.

“He's a gormy old cuss,” Charles called, grinning at the wide-eyed women as he half-carried, half-dragged Odell across the dock. “But with spirit like this, he'll be fine.”

“All the same, hypothermia isn't something we can take lightly,” Dr. Marc called, turning toward the house. “I'll meet you inside.”

Following the doctor, Annie set out for Frenchman's Fairest. She'd check the fire herself, then set a pot of water on the stove for tea. In anticipation of the guests who would come for the viewing, Caleb had already arranged a few finger foods on the dining room table, so it wouldn't take much to turn the parlor into an emergency room. . . .

With one last glance at Odell's gray skin, she broke into a jog. It wasn't until she reached the door that she realized Odell had been the only living soul aboard the
Sally
.

A.J. hadn't come.

Chapter Four

A
nnie woke to the sound of voices, wondered for an instant how her apartment had come to be filled with strangers, then remembered she was not in Portland. She was on Heavenly Daze, in her aunt's house, and this was Tuesday, the day for which they had scheduled Olympia's funeral. But so far absolutely nothing had gone according to her carefully laid plans, so who knew what sort of
calamity the next twenty-four hours would bring?

Groaning, she sat up and blinked away the last fragments of her dreams, then tilted her head at the sound of voices approaching on the stairs outside her door. She recognized the calm tones of Pastor Winslow, Caleb's soft murmur, and the high-pitched, slightly nasal whine belonging to Odell Butcher.

The old codger had wanted to return to Ogunquit last night, but Dr. Marc had refused to give him any clothes. Though the old man might have been daffy, he was not immodest. After placing a call to his granddaughter to assure her of his safety, he spent the rest of the night muttering under Olympia's electric blanket.

Only when the old man had been safely tucked in did Dr. Marc come into the kitchen for coffee and conversation. Upon seeing Annie's troubled gaze, he had dropped his hand over hers. “I'm sorry.” He squeezed her knotted fist. “I know it must have been a shock, seeing your aunt float away like that.”