Weeds in the Garden of Love (12 page)

“
Craig, I want you to give it to Heather. She’s my only granddaughter, and I want her to have this.” Choked with tears, Craig hugged this pile of bones that once was a vibrant and beautiful woman.

“
I love you, Olivia. I’ll take care of this until Heather’s older. I promise, she’ll know all about you.”

It wasn’t long after that—God took Olivia home.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Departures

The memorial service for Olivia was held at the chapel in Hillside Memorial Gardens on a sunny, warm spring day. That’s the way she would have wanted it.

The chapel was filled to capacity with many of the souls she had met in her life. The minister introduced one person after another who wanted to share their story of how Olivia had touched their lives. What began as a mournful ritual of her death became a celebration of her life. That’s the way she would have wanted it.

No one had to participate in a long funeral procession to the cemetery. No casket would be lowered into a hole. No teary eulogies and especially no flowers, only a request for donations to aid the search for a cure. That’s exactly the way she wanted it.

Family and friends gathered at Joe’s house. They all missed Olivia so much. It was a sad scene. People were wandering around, shaking hands or stopping for small talk. Everyone seemed lost. Everyone was, especially Joe.

After everyone left, Joe announced to Craig they had earned a drink and doubted if anyone could stop them. Craig agreed. Chrissie was asleep upstairs. The sedative prescribed by Dr. Stuart had done its job.

“
Scotch?” Joe asked. “Or are you going to wimp out again with beer?”

“
Scotch is fine. I don’t think beer will quite do it today.”
Sad day
, Craig thought.
W
e’ve had too many of those lately.

* * *

Olivia’s last weeks in the hospital were horrible. The cancer was eating her alive. The pain medication helped, but she was still suffering a great deal. Olivia tried to maintain her sense of humor, but she was becoming irritable and tired of the fight. This time was extremely hard on her family. Day after day, they watched her slowly deteriorate in that bed. They listened to her cough until she gasped for air. They heard the “rattle” more than once. She would slip away, and they would think she wouldn’t last the night. The next morning, she would be awake and aware. It was like she was on a bizarre roller-coaster ride. They watched as she went through highs and lows. Now, the highs weren’t as high, and the lows were getting lower and lower.

Near the end, Joe, Craig and Chrissie were in her room. Olivia was fast asleep. She slept most of the time now. They knew her fight was almost over. Olivia awoke surprisingly lucid and alert. She said she had been away for a while and was glad to be back. No one asked where she’d been, but Olivia told them anyway. She had always known her destination, but now the timetable was clear as well. She was totally calm and serene.

They shared two glorious hours that afternoon, and then she slipped into a deep sleep. Craig and Chrissie both kissed her forehead and left, allowing Joe a moment alone with his wife. Joe’s eyes were red when he came out of Olivia’s room. He knew. They all knew.

Olivia always said this whole dying thing was between her and God. No one else was in her room the night she died—only her and God.

That’s the way Olivia would have wanted that too.

* * *

With a little help from Craig, Joe finished a good portion of the bottle of scotch by midnight. When Joe fell asleep on the couch, Craig covered him with a blanket and went out into the backyard. He looked up at a jet-black sky full of stars. The Milky Way slashed across the center, and he easily located both Dippers. Stargazing combined with scotch was making him dizzy, so he lay down on his back. A shooting star streaked across the southern sky. Somehow, Craig knew Olivia was okay now. He knew Joe would be as well. He wasn’t so sure about himself and Chrissie.

The next few months were a trial. Chrissie pushed Craig away both emotionally and physically. Any attempt he made to talk to her about their relationship, their future and especially her drinking was met with anger. Craig was beginning to care less and less.

Despite the fact Craig and Chrissie both worked at Towercrest Realty, they rarely crossed paths. Chrissie spent a great deal of time in the office, managing the company and maintaining her select group of commercial clients. Craig was busy building his client list and selling properties. To avoid the constant tension between Chrissie and him, Craig most often chose to work from their home office and it seemed to help.
It is so bizarre.
T
he less Chrissie and I see of each other, the better we get along. Living separate lives might be the only way we can stay together.
An added benefit was he could spend more time with Robbie and Heather. Chrissie always seemed to be at work, and Craig felt an urgent need to be both mom and dad to the kids.

Working from home had another advantage for Craig. He was closer to a tract of new homes under construction near Botsford Downs. The development was called Victoria Crossing. Craig was selling properties for the builder, his old friend Jim Roberts.

Craig was working at home one afternoon. The phone rang and it was Joe. He was calling to say his pilot’s association was offering a special price on a last minute cruise to Alaska. He decided to go and was leaving today. Joe had called Towercrest to let Chrissie know, but she was out of the office.

Craig said he would pass the message along. “Oh, and Joe, watch out for those Eskimo women. They like to rub noses.”

Joe laughed. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I can rub noses with the best of them!”

After Craig hung up he thought,
what
a good guy. Have fun, Joe.

That evening, Craig told Chrissie her dad was off on a cruise to Alaska. She was pleased he was getting away and getting on with his life. She smiled at Craig as she turned to go upstairs.

Craig thought he had caught a glimpse of his old Chrissie. The Chrissie who was happy, in love and looking forward to a lifetime with him … the one he had met so many years ago … the Chrissie who Craig hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

* * *

Joe was packed and ready to go in no time. The process never took long. Airline pilots are always prepared for a last minute fill-in call. They keep their bags semi-packed, just in case.

Joe groaned when he saw the line-up at the Worldwide Air ticket counters in Terminal One. Hundreds of passengers, ticket and travel documents in hand, moved their luggage slowly forward in a snaking labyrinth created by belts temporarily extended between stanchions. Each time a gap appeared in front of them, they would move to close it. Some pushed their luggage forward on wheeled carts, some picked up their luggage, while others slid theirs forward with a foot. No one looked happy.

Joe maneuvered his luggage into line, anticipating a long, grueling check-in. One of the passenger agents recognized him and, with a quick head tilt, motioned him over to a small line-up at the business class check-in.
Thank goodness for small miracles,
Joe thought.
I owe her big time.

After checking in, Joe found an opportunity to thank the agent who directed him to the quick check-in. She was a striking, mature woman. Joe was certain she had been movie-star-gorgeous when she was young.

“
My pleasure, Captain.” She winked at Joe. “Maybe you’ll return the favor someday.”

“
Count on it.” As he walked away, Joe wondered how he could return the favor. Then he wondered if he had missed her meaning. Then he was sure he had.
You
always miss the signals,
Devries. Even as a young buck, I
was never very good at picking up on that kind of stuff.

The departure lounge was crowded. Joe noticed many carry-ons with Constellation Cruises’ tags. He checked the seat assignment on his boarding pass and discovered he had been upgraded to business class. This was standard practice for deadheading captains if space was available but unusual for vacationing ones. He appreciated the gesture. He noticed their aircraft, a Boeing 727, parked at the bridge. Commissary was busy loading the galley from their truck, which was nosed in against the starboard side.

After boarding, Joe settled back with a mimosa. Glancing outside, he saw a “rampie” pulling up on a small tractor with a train of baggage carts in tow.
All that luggage and freight will
be loaded by hand,
Joe thought.
T
hose guys lift hundreds of bags onto conveyor belts. And don’t forget the guys on their knees in the belly, throwing and stacking it.
Joe respected airline ground personnel. They worked hard to keep the flights “on sched” in all kinds of weather, twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year including Christmas.

“
Another champagne and orange juice, Captain Devries?”

“
Thanks, Lisa.” Joe handed the flight attendant his empty glass. “But please call me Joe.” Lisa smiled at him and continued down the aisle. She liked Joe Devries. All the flight attendants at Worldwide did. He was one of the best captains on the line—friendly,
professional and absolutely faithful to his wife. She had heard the sad news about Olivia.

Joe nodded off. He woke up to the—level-at-our-cruising-altitude … keep-your-seatbelt-fastened-while-seated—inane announcement. Lisa passed by on her way to the galley and noticed Joe was awake. She asked if he had decided on his dinner entrée.

“
The small steak is very good, Captain  oh, sorry, I mean, Joe. He nodded his head in approval. “And Captain Forest has invited you to ride the ‘jump’ after dinner.”

“
Tell Glen I’ll pay him a visit.”

Glen Forest was a dear old friend. Joe remained his friend even when Glen was a fool and traded in his wife Donna for a perky young flight attendant. She was about the same age as Glen’s eldest daughter. Joe also supported him when she and Glen broke up a year later. Glen Forest always said: “Joe Devries is the best friend a guy could have.” Glen Forest was right.

A visit to the cockpit was no thrill for Joe; it felt too much like going to work. He had spent thousands of hours in aircraft cockpits. Joe and Glen had flown many of those hours together until Glen became a captain. When two pilots have history together, they have lots of great flying stories, usually with some kind of tomfoolery included. Joe wasn’t in the jump seat for long before he and Glen started to recount some of those stories. Wasn’t long before two old captains, a first officer and a flight engineer were giggling like schoolboys.

When Joe stood up to leave, they all expressed their condolences at Olivia’s death. Joe thanked them, but inside he was tired of all the sympathy. He appreciated everyone’s thoughtfulness, but he had grown weary of the grief game. He felt like he was play-acting, portraying the sad widower. He was afraid to smile, let alone laugh, for fear people would think he was callous. In fact, Joe was moving on. He promised Olivia he would. He was ready to start his new life.

Joe stopped before he left the flight deck. “Remember, boys—pointy-end first.” He closed the cockpit door to the sound of laughter.

* * *

Joe boarded a bus identified by a cardboard sign, taped to the front window, which read: “Constellation Cruises M.S. Pegasus.” It was full of couples eager to get onboard the ship. Joe sat quietly in a rear seat. No one would know he had recently lost his wife. Ten days of no explanations, no uneasy feelings as they fumbled for the right words and no false sympathy. He was looking forward to both the rest and the anonymity this cruise would offer. Joe was about to embark on his new life, wherever it took him.

The cruise ship M.S. Pegasus was a grand old lady. She was originally designed for trans-Atlantic crossings. However, she was currently spending her summers in Alaska and winters in the Caribbean. She was starting to show her age, but her elegance was timeless. She had steamer chairs on her teak decks, beautiful brass and mahogany trim, and a grand staircase filled the center of the main reception area. Her crew was proud to serve, and passengers received exceptional white-glove service.

Joe’s cabin was mid-ships on Promenade Deck. The cabin was adequate for two and almost spacious for one. After he unpacked and settled in, Joe headed aft to the Lido Deck for the sail-away party. For the first time in many months, he forgot all the sadness and was happy. He felt guilty for a moment and then remembered his promise to Olivia.
Guess I am moving on, Liv. You made me promise I would.
Joe knew she’d be happy.

For the next few days, they sailed north to their first port-of-call Juneau, Alaska. Joe quickly fell into a routine: up early, brisk walk on the Promenade before breakfast, coffee on deck with newfound chums and read or whale watch after lunch. He was enjoying every minute.

Joe especially enjoyed dinner every evening in the main dining room. The three couples assigned to his table were all very nice, retired and interesting. They shared stories, laughter and plenty of wine. Joe told them on the first night he was divorced rather than recently widowed. It was easier that way.

Joe was up early on the day they were scheduled to arrive in Juneau. He stood by the rail drinking coffee, watching the scenery and talking to anyone who happened by. The cruise director stopped and chatted for a moment, as did several passengers. Even Steve, the comedian who performed the night before, stopped to say hi. He and Joe talked and laughed like two long lost buddies. Steve wished Joe a great day in Juneau and went to the Lido for breakfast. Joe waved at Earl, one of his morning coffee cronies, who was walking towards him.