Red Ruby Heart in a Cold Blue Sea (9781101559833) (27 page)

I was well on my way to drifting off when I noticed the faint light on the wall brightening to the gold of a sun-kissed summer sea. The wall melted away to reveal the summer sea yielding up diamonds too dazzling to ignore, all the way to Carlie's horizon. I lifted up from the bed and floated down until I was walking along the path to the cliffs in the State Park in my bare feet and my nightgown.

As I reached the water, I saw that the diamonds were on fire. But I wasn't afraid. I sat down on the sitting bench and waited. I didn't wait long. A boat that may have been the
Florine
's twin glided into view on the molten water, Daddy at her helm. My daddy as he had been when he was living life full tilt, when everything he knew made sense. He smiled at me and I saw the man that Carlie must have seen when she'd first come to The Point.

And she was with him. She sat starboard, her freckled arm over the side of the boat. She skimmed her fingers over water that gave off sparks where she touched it. She gave me a look filled with so much love that it turned me inside out.

“Oh” was all I could say, but it contained everything I had ever felt and could ever feel about both of them. With that, Daddy turned the
Florine
and they sailed into the horizon and disappeared. Then someone next to me said, “You got company.” I looked up to see my Grand with flour on her apron, her white hair falling from its pins, her blue eyes bright and light as a cup of sky with cream. Someone stood beside her. He was dressed like I'd seen him in pictures and I didn't need an introduction, but Grand said to him, “This is my granddaughter.”

I said, “Pleased to meet you, Jesus,” because Grand liked manners.

Grand patted me on the shoulder. “You need to tend to your company,” she said, and then she and Jesus walked out of the bedroom and I came back to myself.

“What company?” I wondered, now awake. I got up from the bed, feeling light as the down on a baby duck. I wandered downstairs, through the darkened living room, into the kitchen, and out to the porch. I had a mind to sit in the rocker and ponder what had just happened under the silent night stars, but found myself too restless to do that. I walked back into the kitchen and looked out of the big windows over the harbor toward the bay.

A dark form moved up the hill from the wharf. My heart hopped into my throat. “Who . . . ?” I whispered. As it grew closer, I saw that it was Bud, on one of his night prowls. I watched him until he reached the front of the house. To my surprise, he stopped and looked through the window at me and then I moved, because although nothing was for sure, what I wanted right now stood about ten feet away from me. Stella would have shoved me out the door, but I didn't need that push. I walked myself outside into a summer night so perfect that it felt like part of my skin.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Bud said.

“Couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither. Funny, isn't it?” Bud said, and he smiled.

“When are you leaving?” I asked.

“Leaving for where?”

“Word has it you're moving north.”

“No,” Bud said. “Someone got their story wrong. I'm not.” He smiled into my eyes and I stopped breathing for an instant. He said, “I come out to go for a walk. You want to come along?”

“I don't feel like walking,” I said.

His mouth twitched. “I thought you said you'd go anywhere with me. Dumb ass.”

I laughed, but I couldn't see him through the blur in my eyes nor answer him. It appeared that, for once, I had nothing to say. But for once, he did.

“Well, maybe I've walked far enough,” he said.

I reached for his hand and he took it and we went inside. We turned right and went through the living room and into the hall. The risers creaked as we walked up the stairs.

We fell into Grand's bed like one body, coiled around each other like eels. He was part of me before I knew it. His hands touched me in ways that didn't hurt, as if he knew where all of my scars were. My legs wrapped him tight and we dove deep, past the seaweed, past the bottom of the ocean, until I surfaced, crying out his name even as I tried to breathe him in.

Dawn found us lying on our sides looking at each other. I traced the map around his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He moved a strand of hair from my face and nested his fingers in my hair.

“I ain't leaving you, Florine,” he said.

“I know that,” I said. And I did.

“I ain't sure what's going to happen, but I'd like you along for the ride,” he said.

“Front seat, passenger side?”

“Shotgun all the way. You bet,” he said. We reached for each other at the same time.

The warm night yielded up a good morning, with promise of many more to come. Where we would wake up in the future and what would happen to us were questions we had yet to answer, but we would wake up together. But one thing was for sure. We would always come back to The Point to keep an eye on the change of seasons, walk the rocky, pine-scented paths with our children, if the powers that be saw fit to give us any, and play with them on the beach that led to the bay, the ocean, and to the horizon, beyond it.

Here, where endings and beginnings met in the middle of the dirt road leading to the harbor, we would stoke up the fire we had set for each other since the beginning of our time in this tiny place in the world. We would live our lives as best we could, guided by the sweet memories of those tender souls, missing and missed, who had blessed us with their love as they had best understood it.

It hadn't been so very long ago that I had thrown the red ruby heart into the cold blue sea and begged for my mother's return. Although I would most likely never see her as she had been here on earth and in my life, she had never left my heart, and she never would. In its own way and in its own time, the red ruby heart had come back to me, and I would hold tight to it, forever.

Acknowledgments

“
Praise the bridge that carried you over
.
”
—George Colman

I'm so grateful for the love, faith, honesty, and friendship of so many people in so many walks of life for their assistance in writing this book that I hardly know where to begin.

First, I want to thank those directly responsible for bringing Florine and The Point to life. My gratitude goes out to my agent, Gail Hochman, for her quirky genius, and for her warmth and persistence. This also extends to Marianne Merola, who has taken me to Germany and Spain. My humble appreciation extends to the Viking Penguin group, and to my editor, Laura Tisdel, for her energy, her kindness, and her determination. My thanks also go out to Ann Hood, a remarkable woman and author.

A honey-drenched dose of gratitude to those who have had to take me in whether they wanted to or not. Fran, Smudge, Mary, Mickey, Leo, Cindi, and my five beloved babies, I love you all more than you're comfortable hearing about, being Mainers. Also, love to my aunts, uncles, and cousins, particularly to Janie. To my Quaker Point family, the Bennetts. Without you all, there would be no story.

Charlotte Eckel Brown, Barbara Lee Gaul, Lee Kennett Paige, and Tootie Van Reenen, you are my rocks. Edith Gaul, thank you for keeping the candy jars filled and the kitchen table available. Karen Gaul Bessey, your belief in the unseen has kept my imagination fired since we were in third grade. Thank you to Elisabeth Wilkins and Peggy Moss, my precious pearls, and to fellow New Englander and friend Brenda Edmands, who picked me to go to a Bruce Springsteen concert.

My everlasting appreciation extends to friends and teachers at the University of Southern Maine's Stonecoast MFA in Creative Writing program, particularly to Baron Wormser. Your encouragement meant so much to me. Thank you to Lee Hope. And thank you to extraordinary teachers and writers, including Suzanne Strempek Shea, Elizabeth Searle, Michael Kimball, Clint McCown, Richard Hoffman, Joan Connor, Michael C. White, and Jack Driscoll. To Barbara Kelly, who keeps the books alive. I am also thankful for the friendship of Bruce Pratt and Hank Garfield, my brothers in writing, and my colleagues in the program, who are all amazing and all a bit mad.

Go raibh maith agaibh
to my Irish family, Claire Foley, Michael Connolly, and Rebecca Hitchcock. Big hugs go out to my Flatbread women for the pizza, sundaes, and friendship. Mary Beth Gray, thanks for the awesome quilt. It is an honor to have Frank and Jean Woodard in my life. Thank you for believing in my voice. To Central Station, Portland Fire Department, all shifts, I'm grateful for the brunches, lunches, and for quiet time on weekends in the office. Rua and Jessie, thanks for your patience and devotion.

To Maine, and to its tough and tender characters. I keep coming back. Guess that's love, isn't it? And to western South Dakota. You just have to love somewhere that Rand McNally altered on a map.

Finally, my love to Robert. The adventure continues.