The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time (22 page)

Twenty minutes later, we heard it again, another
crack!

“It sounds like a car backfiring,” Gram said, “but no one in their right mind would be out driving in a storm like this.” She snuggled down into the sleeping bag and reached for my hand. “Thank you for staying with me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.”

“Everything will be fine,” I assured her, even though I was trembling inside. “This is a solid house, and when we wake up in the morning, the sun will be shining and it’ll all be over. Just try to get some sleep.”

The wind continued to roar, and those alarming sounds like cannon fire continued sporadically until somehow we managed to fall asleep. It wasn’t until we rose from our makeshift beds the next morning and ventured outside into the backyard that we discovered what had caused those ear-splitting sounds.

Chapter Forty-five

At least the sun was shining.

“Look at all my trees,” Gram said with a heartbroken sigh. “It’s unreal.”

One of the oldest and most majestic of her giant evergreens had been torn from the earth. It had toppled over onto the roof of her shed.

Other trees, still standing, had their tops ripped off. The storm had snapped the trunks like toothpicks, which accounted for the loud cracks we’d heard throughout the night. Leafy branches had been tossed onto the deck and across the yard, and her entire house, including the roof, was splattered with wet leaves.

We both looked up at the white painted clapboard siding her home. “You’ll need someone with a power washer to come over here and hose it all down,” I said.

A few minutes later, we made our way out front to see how Gram’s neighbors had fared. All the houses were intact. There was very little structural damage, but power lines were down and branches littered the street.

Mrs. Cassidy, in her blue bathrobe, stood at her front gate, staring at everything as if in a daze. Her husband was already hauling branches off the front lawn and dragging them around to the back.

We went to chat with others who were completely dumbstruck by the spectacle. Because the power was still out, we invited a few of them over for cereal and coffee, which we heated on the barbeque.

We were all shocked when the paper boy peddled up the street on his bicycle, weaving around fallen branches, to deliver the morning paper. He apologized for being so late.

“They must have gone to print early last night,” Mr. Cassidy said, “knowing what was to come.”

With the power out, we doubted we would see another paper for many days.

* * *

Cell phone service was out, but late in the morning Gram’s land line was working so I called Cassie and the guys at work to make sure everyone was okay. They were, but with no power, the owner deemed that the pub would stay closed.

The city of Portland declared a state of emergency and everyone was instructed to stay off the roads to allow emergency crews to begin the cleanup, but we couldn’t go anywhere regardless, with so many trees and power lines down in the streets.

Concerned about my house on the water, I called my neighbor but there was no answer. Most of the residents on the Cape had been evacuated before the storm, so all I could do was sit tight and hope I’d be able to check on my home soon.

Chapter Forty-six

We were without power for three days, and it wasn’t until the third day that I was able to leave Portland and drive out to Cape Elizabeth. Gram—curious about the damage to the coastline and my beloved home—asked to come along.

We drove in silence most of the way, because I was tense about what I would find. The closer we drew to the coast, the more anxious I became, for there was flooding in a number of areas, and we passed many houses with their roofs torn away and their windows boarded up.

We drove slowly, gaping out the windows at all the destruction, and I began to feel sick to my stomach. If there was significant damage to my own treasured, historic home, I wasn’t sure what my insurance would cover, and I didn’t have a lot of spare cash lying around.

When we turned onto the long tree-lined drive, and the stately white mansion finally came into view, I breathed a sigh of relief, for it was still standing, strong and proud. From a distance, there appeared to be no broken windows or damage to the roof. I reached across the console to squeeze Gram’s hand.

“She looks okay,” Gram said.

“Thank heavens.” But as I pulled onto the white gravel driveway and was able to see down over the back lawn to the rocky shoreline, my eyes grew wide with shock.

“Do you see what I see?” I asked Gram as I shut off the engine.

“I sure do,” she replied. “I wonder who that belongs to.”

We got out to inspect the sailboat that was lying on her side on the grass, halfway up the hill.

* * *

“She’s got to be at least a forty-footer.” I ran my hands along the white painted hull and glanced down at the sturdy keel. Some of the wire shrouds had come loose and the paint was chipped in places, but otherwise she appeared surprisingly undamaged for having been tossed up over the rocks.

As I circled around to the stern, I saw that her name was
Evangeline
.

“Someone must be very worried about you,” I said. “How the heck did you get up here? And what were you doing out here in open water when there was a hurricane coming?”

“It must have been one heck of a storm surge,” Gram said, “to have hurled this boat up here like a bathtub toy.”

“I’ll call the yacht club in Portland and let them know. Gosh…I hope no one was aboard.”

With a sudden rush of panic, I took hold of the grab rail and hoisted myself onto the steeply sloping deck. I knocked firmly upon the forward hatch, then cupped my hands around the salt-caked window and peered inside. “I don’t see anyone. It looks like she’s all closed up.”

I hopped down to the ground and shaded my eyes to look out at the sea. Where had she come from? All at once, something at the edge of my property caught my eye. Overcome by a wave of sorrow, I laid a hand over my heart.

“The sundial…”

I shared a look with my grandmother, who understood my attachment to the ancient stone timekeeper at the edge of the lawn, for that was the spot where Ethan and I had said our final good-byes that first summer. On that day, he had promised to love me forever.

Starting off down the hill, I said, “The boat must have knocked it over.”

As I drew near, I was relieved to see that it was still in one piece, resting on its side. I knelt beside it and ran my fingers over the roman numerals carved into the dial plate, and along the edge of the sturdy stone gnomon.

Gram appeared beside me, casting her shadow upon it.

“How heavy is it?” she asked.

“Pretty heavy, I think.” Nevertheless, I rose to my feet and gripped the top to try and upright it.

“Let me help you.” Gram bent to take some of the weight.

Together, with considerable effort, we managed to stand it up on the stone slab. I squinted at the blue sky, dotted with white clouds.

“The gnomon has to point north,” I mentioned.

Gram pointed. “North is that way.”

Grunting with exertion, I inched it around, little by little, until I had it pointing approximately in the right direction.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Gram checked her watch. “It’s ten to twelve.”

I examined the gnomon’s shadow and determined that the dial was slightly behind, so I wrenched it around another inch until the shadow fell in the proper place. In that instant, I experienced a tingling sensation. It began in my fingers where I held the edges of the dial plate in a tight grip, and sizzled up my hands and arms to my shoulders and down my back.

I released my grip and jumped back. “I just got a shock.”

Gram regarded me with bewilderment, then touched her hand to the top of the dial plate. “I don’t feel anything.”

Stepping forward uneasily, I ran my hands down the length of the ornately carved column it stood on, which resembled something out of a Chinese temple. “Me neither. Not anymore.” But as I stared at it, I felt as if I’d experienced this sensation before. Or possibly dreamed it.

“Do you ever have
déjà vu
?” I asked Gram.

“Occasionally,” she replied. “Why?”

“I feel like I dreamed about this—that something weird happened when I touched the sundial before, but it’s such a vague feeling. I can’t describe it.”

“Maybe you did dream it,” she replied. “Some people say we have premonitions in our dreams, but most of us don’t remember them when we wake up—until the moment actually happens and it feels familiar.”

“That’s what this feels like,” I replied, backing away from the sundial uneasily.

“At least we got it standing up again,” I said, shaking myself out of my strange reverie. “Let’s go and see if there is any damage to the house.”

We started up the hill to do a more thorough inspection.

Chapter Forty-seven

The house was fine, with the exception of leaves and grass that would need to be cleaned from the white exterior with a hose, and a few branches strewn about the yard. By some stroke of luck, only one of my trees had blown down. I called an arborist to arrange for its removal, but he explained that it might take awhile before he could fit me in, as he was overwhelmed with calls.

Later that day, power was restored and Gram was fine at home, so I decided to sleep in my own bed that night.

What a luxury it was to take a hot shower and cook a meal at the stove. I played no music that night as I sat at the dining room table. I simply sat in silence.

Later, as I was washing the dishes, the telephone rang. It was a woman from the yacht club in Portland who had tracked down
Evangeline’s
owners.

“It’s an older couple from Chicago,” she explained. “They left her moored in Kettle Cove but had to fly home urgently because of a death in the family. The gentleman was very apologetic. He said he had no idea the storm would be as bad as it was, and he agreed that he should have taken steps to have the boat moved to a safer location. He did offer to pay for any damage the boat caused to your property.”

“Tell him there was no damage,” I interjected. “And I’m very sorry for his loss.”

The woman told me that a crew with equipment would come by to remove the boat as soon as possible. I thanked her and we hung up.

When the kitchen was clean, I boiled water for tea and strolled out to the veranda to stand at the balustrade and take a look at the sailboat—still lying on her side on my lawn.

The sea was calm as glass and the stars were just beginning to twinkle in the sky. It reminded me of the night Chris had taken me out in the rowboat for stargazing. What a truly magical night it had been—one I would remember for as long as I lived.

All at once, I felt a severe and agonizing pang of longing in my core, as if my insides were coming apart. I missed Chris terribly and wished he were not so far away. What I wouldn’t give to wrap my arms around his neck, smell the clean scent of his skin, hear the husky timbre of his voice in my ear.

It was difficult, in that moment, not to lose all hope for future happiness, because the people I loved most always seemed to be snatched from my world.

Yet, there I stood—somehow surviving, like
Evangeline
. Tossed about in a storm, but still, miraculously, in one piece. Soon, someone who cared about
Evangeline
would arrive to collect her and she would most likely sail again.

Perhaps there was hope for me as well. Perhaps I would sail again, too.

* * *

That night, as I slid beneath the covers and turned out the light, I found myself thinking of all that I was grateful for—the fact that, three days after a Category II hurricane, I had a roof over my head and my friends and family were all safe.

Not everyone was so lucky. There had been two fatalities the night of the storm. One man had swerved in his car to avoid falling power lines and driven into a brick building. Another man had been swept off the rocks at the Portland Head Light by a giant wave when he foolishly went out to see what the storm waves looked like.

Tonight I was safe and warm in my bed. Tomorrow I would go back to work at the pub, where I had the pleasure of spending my days with my best friend, Cassie, and two generous, nice guys in the kitchen. My grandmother was fit as a fiddle at the age of eighty-six, and my sister Jenn had survived a brain tumor last year and would soon be giving birth to a son. This time next month, I would be an auntie.

As I thought of all these things, a sense of peace and wellbeing settled into my heart and I closed my eyes to say a prayer for Chris, Katelyn and Logan. Then I drifted into a dream where I floated out of my body and left my bedroom. I descended the stairs, passed through the front door and flew over the sailboat to the sundial at the edge of my lawn.

Circling Back

Chapter Forty-eight

I woke to the steady, recurring electronic beep of an alarm clock going off next to my head. Laboring to rouse myself from slumber, I reached out and pressed the snooze button, then flopped back onto the pillow and immediately fell back to sleep.