Hearts at Home Page 8

  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

  Annie 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.”

  Annie shook her head. Russell had taken the Barbara Jean out just after Odell’s rescue, but Olympia had drifted out to sea with the current, and the encroaching darkness had made a search impossible.

  “I’m sorry, Annie,” Russell had said, shifting uneasily on the porch after his return. “But I can’t see anything on a cloudy night like this. We’d best wait until morning, then call the Coast Guard. Or maybe one of the other lobster-men will spot her when they head out in the morning.”

  Annie had returned to the kitchen to give Dr. Marc and Caleb the bad news. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t just forget about her—what would people think? But how on earth are we supposed to find her? The currents could have carried her anywhere. And if the casket hits the rocks up on the coast, it could sink. Then we’ll never find her.”

  “Shh, dear, don’t fret yourself.” Dr. Marc had stepped closer, pressing her head to his shoulder, and Annie had closed her eyes, relishing the comfort of a kind touch. Dr. Marc was a godsend; she would have lost her head if not for his clear thinking. He had known how to care for Odell; he had sent the other townspeople home to spare Annie from a barrage of comments, and by asking her to help him care for Odell, he had kept her from brooding about Olympia … and A.J.

  But even he hadn’t been able to keep sad reality at bay forever.

  “A doctor’s life is busy,” he had said when she lifted her head. “I’m sure Alex had a good reason for not coming.”

  “He always does.” She had forced a smile. “But though he promised to come for the funeral, I don’t know how he’s going to get here. Without Odell’s boat—”

  “Alex is resourceful; he always has been. I’m sure he’ll think of something, Annie.”

  She had drifted off to sleep with that promise ringing in her ears, but those words seemed unrealistic in the gray morning light seeping beneath her window shade. Heavenly Daze had been blessed with an unseasonably warm winter, but a cloudbank had moved in to cover the morning sun, and the wind rattling the window held the promise of snow in its breath.

  Quickly dressing in jeans, wool socks, and a sweater, she padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Caleb, Dr. Marc, and Odell were sitting at the table, and Odell had the telephone pressed to his ear. When Caleb caught Annie’s eye, he pointed to the empty place at his right hand, then gestured toward the big bowl of oatmeal steaming in the center of the table.

  “I thought you’d be down soon,” Caleb whispered, placing a clean bowl and spoon on her placemat. “Eat up, dear one. You’ll need your strength today.”

  Nodding gratefully, she sank into the chair, then scooped up a dipperful of the hot oatmeal and plopped it into her bowl.

  Lifting a brow, she nodded toward Odell. “Who’s he talking to?”

  Dr. Marc grinned. “His granddaughter. We called her after the accident, of course, and she was relieved to hear he was okay. Now it sounds like her relief has passed into anger.”

  Annie shook her head.

  Across the table, Odell averted his eyes and held the phone an inch from his ear. Every once in a while he’d open his mouth as if to argue a point, then his mouth would close as his granddaughter squawked from the receiver. Annie looked down at her bowl and tried not to laugh. It was comical, the way his mouth opened and closed like a hooked fish … but there was nothing funny about Aunt Olympia floating to France.

  She dropped her head to her hand as a somber thought slammed into her. “Dr. Marc?”

  “Um?”

  Not wanting to upset Caleb, she lowered her voice. “There’s no way we’re going to find Aunt Olympia in time for the funeral, is there?”

  His lips smiled, but his eyes did not. “Short of an absolute miracle, I don’t think so. But you can still have the memorial service. You don’t need a body to celebrate someone’s life.”

  She leaned closer. “There’s a good chance I’m not even going to find her for a springtime internment, isn’t there?”

  He coughed into his hand and stared down at his coffee cup, then whispered, “You’re probably right. Sea people tend to let things rest. I doubt, for instance, if anyone will bother to raise the Sally. From what I’ve gathered from Odell, the little bit of insurance he carried on the boat won’t cover the salvage expenses. His granddaughter wants him to let the boat lie.”

  “On the bottom?”

  “Ayuh. It’ll make a nice artificial reef. If no one spots the casket in a day or two, you might want to consider it a burial at sea.”

  Annie leaned back in her chair, then slowly lifted a spoonful of oatmeal to her mouth. Pretending Olympia had gone down with the Sally would be the easiest thing to do, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. What would Edmund Junior think? He’d be horrified when he heard what had happened to his mother’s remains. She’d be lucky if he didn’t threaten to sue her for dereliction of duty or something.

  And what of Olympia herself ? She had carefully planned her funeral, reserved her plot next to Edmund, requested the boys’ choir. Annie couldn’t put her aunt to rest without fulfilling at least one of the woman’s wishes… .

  She leaned toward the doctor again. “Dr. Marc?”

  “Um?”

  “I’ve got to find her.”

  He took a sip of his coffee, smiled at Caleb, then bent his head to whisper in her ear. “We’ll talk about it later, dear. You have a big day ahead of you.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, Annie. Caleb called the Coast Guard, and they’ve promised to call us if anyone reports an offshore casket. At this point, there’s nothing more we can do.”

  Fat, wet flakes of snow began to fall from the soft gray sky on Tuesday afternoon. Marc brushed the snowflakes from the shoulders of his dark coat, then shifted uneasily as he entered the church behind Floyd Lansdown. Six pallbearers, all shiverin
g in their black suits with no overcoats, had lined up in the churchyard without a casket between them. Edith had insisted they behave as if the dearly departed were present, so the six men pasted on grave expressions and moved down the church aisle carrying nothing. To the right of the communion table, a hastily painted portrait of Olympia de Cuvier stared out at them with a slightly accusing expression.

  Marc breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the front, then he slipped into the family pew with Annie. A.J. sat next to her (thank the Lord, he had found a lobsterman in Wells who had agreed to bring him over), while Edmund Junior, clad in an expensive cashmere topcoat, sat at the end of the pew with Caleb. Whisked in by helicopter, he had arrived barely fifteen minutes before the service was scheduled to begin. Bobby Gribbon and Georgie Graham had nearly swooned with excitement to see the chopper landing at the northern end of the island, but the noise had frightened little Brittany. Now she sat in the pew with Salt, barricading herself behind her grandfather’s burly forearm as if she feared the helicopter visitor might sweep her up and carry her away.

  Marc glanced down the pew to peek at Olympia’s son. Edmund Junior seemed calm, but he kept swiping at his red nose with his handkerchief. Marc privately believed the man was suffering more from the cold weather than from any remorse about his mother’s passing. If the man had cared for Olympia so much, why hadn’t he taken the time to write, call, or visit? Upon arriving at the house, he had scarcely said two words to Annie before asking to see his mother’s will and personal papers. He now carried a copy of the will in the pocket of his topcoat.

  Marc settled back in the pew and drew a deep breath. However cold-hearted Edmund Junior might be, he didn’t appear to be ill-mannered enough to open the will and peer at its pages during the memorial service. After the service, of course, he might harass Annie.