The Island of Heavenly Daze
The Island of
Heavenly Daze
Heavenly Daze Book One
LORI COPELAND
ANGELA HUNT
© 2000 by Lori Copeland and Angela E. Hunt
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Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
Map illustration by Bill Williams, © 2001. (Thanks, Bill and Jane! Enjoyed the laughter and the dramatic reading!)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Copeland, Lori.
    The island of Heavenly Daze / Lori Copeland and Angela Hunt.
       p. cm. â (Heavenly Daze series)
    ISBN-13: 978-0-8499-4219-8 (trade paper)
    ISBN-13: 978-1-59554-554-1 (mass market)
    1. IslandsâMaineâFiction. I. Hunt, Angela Elwell, 1957-II. Title.
    PS3553.O6336I7 2008
    813'.54âdc22
2007047011
Printed in the United States of America
08 09 10 11 12 QW 5 4 3 2 1
And we know that God causes everything
to work together for the good
of those who love God
and are called according to his purpose for them.
âST. PAUL, writing to the Romans
Contents
If You Want to Know More About . . .
Ican't say that life here is difficult. I suppose some of you more jaded humans might call this place isolated, or even “Godforsaken,” but we of the celestial persuasion know that the Lord hasn't forsaken even the remotest place on earth.
And how could he forget this quaint little island? In an age when men are flying to the moon and back with little fanfare and it's possible to zap a typed message around the world in a matter of seconds, it's hard to believe a sleepy place like Heavenly Daze could even exist. But our little town not only exists, I believe it's thriving in a world where evil threatens to blot out every trace of goodness. The courageous people who live here are glowing like lights in darkness, and they're learning and growing according to the Lord's plan. Oh, they're not perfect. Not by a far shot. But they're moldable humans, and they've had a little extra help over the years.
Our angelic teamâElezar, Zuriel, Caleb, Abner, Yakov, Micah, and myselfâhave been watching over the humans of Heavenly Daze for over two hundred years. You see, it all began whenâwell, it would be easier for me to pull back the curtain of time and let you witness the scene. I can do that, you knowâit's one of the liberties the Lord allows me to take now and then.
So settle back in a comfortable place and prepare to visit our community as it was . . . and as it is. And then you'll understand why I harbor such high hopes for the twenty-nine inhabitants of our little island . . . especially for the twenty-two
humans
of Heavenly Daze.
âGAVRIEL
Heavenly Daze
estab. 1798
Maine, 1798
C
aptain Jacques de Cuvier drew a shuddering breath, imagining himself back at sea, the sound of waves slapping against the hull. He listened for the snap of sails as the wind caught the rigging, skimming the sailing vessel along the high seas.
Oh, the joy of his youth! The feel of rough planks beneath his booted feet, legs braced against the rolling decks. Deck hands skimming yardarms and shouting salty rejoinders to the men below. Was thatâyes, it was Emil grinning at him, his devilishly handsome first mate with the whole world before him.
Tears of satisfaction rolled down his cheek.
Thank you, Father. I have had a good life.
He stirred, slowly opening his eyes when the jingle of rattling cups disturbed him. The door opened softly and Jacques saw Emil come into the room. The old servant shuffled across the floor, his shoulders bent, his coarse thatch of once-raven hair now snow-white. When had Emil gotten so old?
When had Jacques?
Fading sunlight danced along the walls of his bedchamber. Heavenly beams threw mellow shadows across the foot of the bed and he smiled. Death was very near. Medication no longer masked the pain, but Jacques no longer fought it. Indeed, he embraced the passing, ran toward it, knowing that very soon his earthly race would be run. Happiness lurked at the corners of his mouth as the knowledge settled around his heart like a child's smile.
I am ready, Father.
Emil smiled as he set a tray on the bedside table. “I've made soup, Captain. I'd hoped you might eat a bite before we go.”
“Of course, Emil. That's very kind of you.” Jacques allowed the servant to lift his wasted frame and place a couple of pillows behind his head. He was as weak as a rotted rope. “Thank youâthank you.” While Emil poured tea, Jacques's eyes drifted shut. The street noise seemed unusually distracting tonight. Whaling ships filled the deep harbor, but he was now too sick to send them away. When he murmured for Emil to close the window, the old servant quickly set the soup aside to do his bidding.
The faint breeze no longer ruffled the lace curtains. Below he could hear the drunken revelers lifting their steins in laughter and the softer voices of harlots plying their trades to the worldly sea dogs. His heart ached. His beautiful Heavenly Days had turned into Gomorrah.
“Why, Emil? Why must they do this to our town?”
“I don't know, Captain.”
Retreating into his memories, Jacques murmured, “Do you remember the day we found this island?”
Emil nodded, returning to the light meal. “A glorious day it wasâabout this time of year, wasn't it?”
Smiling, the captain inclined his head. “Yes, yes. Early fall. The six of us were tired. Tired of fighting the seas and Mother Nature. Ah, Emil, do you remember how hard we worked to build the houses?”
“Yes, sir. Six homes, here on the island. For fellow captains who'd tired of the open seas and wanted a place to spend their waning years. Such a beautiful dream.”
“Not a man regretted it. This place gave us a good life for many years.”
Until the sea dogs came.
“I know, sir.” Emil spooned gruel into his captain's mouth. When the liquid dribbled down Jacques's chin, the manservant gently blotted it with a napkin.
“My fellow captains are gone now. I'm the only one left and I have one foot in the grave.”
Emil clucked his tongue. “I don't like for you to talk this way, Captain.”
“I know, I know, but it's the truth.” Jacques shook his head when Emil tried to spoon more soup in his mouth. Lying back against the pillow, he closed his eyes. “What will you do when I'm gone, Emil?”
The servant carefully placed the lid back on the silver tureen. “Why, I'll stay here and tend the house, I suppose. Until I, too, am called home.”
Jacques's eyes opened when Emil cleared his throat. “What would you have me do with the house after I join you?” the servant asked quietly.
Jacques shook his head. “Give it to my son.”
“But I wouldn't know where to find Master de Cuvier! Even you haven't seen the lad since he was a small boy.”
That was true. Jacques hadn't seen the child since his wife took him away. Elinore wanted the lad to have a solid home, and Jacques's home bounced with the tide.
“How old would he be now, Emil? Sixty?” A chuckle started deep in Jacques's belly and worked its way up his throat. “I have a sixty-year-old boy.”
“Yes, sir, you do at that.” Emil caught the spirit and the two men shared a good laugh.
Sobering, Jacques sighed. “I don't even know if he lives.”
“If he does, I will find him,” Emil promised. “And I will tell him he has inherited a fine house!”
“And an island.” Jacques frowned, distracted by the racket going on outside. Until a few years ago, the island had retained its serenity. Then the whalers came, as hungry for pleasure as they were for whale meat. “I still own this island and feel responsible for it. Thoseâthose devils may have their day, but soon the Lord will hear my prayers.” He opened his eyes. “The church is ready?”
“All finished, sir, with a fresh-painted sign hangin' over the door. It awaits your arrival.”
“Then help me up, Emil. I have one last thing to do before I go.”
“Captainâ”
“No arguments, Emil. I must pray as I have never prayed before. This is the final thing I must do for my fellow captains, and the last earthly request Jacques de Cuvier will ever make.”
“Yes, sir.”
The old servant struggled to his feet and gently helped the captain swing his spindly legs over the side of the bed. Jacques sat for a moment, gathering strength, then got up and struggled into his uniform.
When dressed, he stared at his wavering image in the looking glass. His suit hung on his lank frame; even his hat now seemed too big for his head.
“Pitiful,” he announced.
“Yes, sir,” Emil agreed, flicking a speck of lint off the dark fabric.
Straightening, Jacques took hold of Emil's arm. “I'm ready.”
“Sirâare you sure youâ
we
can do this?”
“The Lord will provide the strength we need, Emil, but I will concede it isn't wise for us to tarry.”
Once inside the carriage, Emil wrapped Jacques in a soft warm robe before arduously mounting the carriage seat. Twice he paused to catch his breath, each time glancing at Jacques for reassurance.
The stone streets jarred Jacques's weary bones, and he held tightly to the leather strap as the coach rattled over the cobblestones. Vibrant rays of red, yellow, and gold streaked the western horizon as Emil drove past the sea with the sound of gulls winging through the glowing sunset.
