At Witt's End

by Beth Solheim

  Michael's index finger tapped its way along the bed sheet until it was within inches of the deceased woman's hair. He casually looked up at the daughter, who stood next to him as he wound his finger around a strand of white hair. Chin bobbing against his fist, he said, “Are you dead?"

  The nurse asked the family if they had a funeral director they wanted her to contact. One of the woman's daughters pulled a cell phone from her purse. With fingers shaking, she dialed the first of many.

  The deceased woman opened her eyes and smiled at Michael. He smiled back and nudged the toe of his tennis shoe against the tile floor. “Are you dead yet?"

  The woman sat up effortlessly and moved to the edge of the bed. “You were waiting for me, weren't you? I saw you go by several times the past few days.” She placed her hand on Michael's head and ran her thumb through his bangs. “I'm glad you waited. Now I don't have to go alone."

  She slid from the bed. When her feet touched the floor, she reached for Michael's hand. “Are you ready?” The light around the woman began to intensify as she effortlessly walked away from the bed.

  Michael looked toward the door. “We need to get Mom."

  Michael felt a cool breeze spread through the room and he noticed the woman's gown moving with the air currents. A thunder rumbled in the distance. Michael ran to the door. “Mom. It's time to go. There's a dead lady in here who wants us to go with her."

  The woman's family gathered around her bed one more time, their tears flowing without reservation. A few family members milled outside the door to escape the sorrow. The finality was more than they could bear.

  The nurse gently guided one of the woman's daughters to a chair. “You don't have to leave yet. Take all the time you want. The funeral director won't be here for another half hour.” She gave the daughter a brochure from the mortuary they had selected. She circled the phone number. “The funeral director will contact you to make arrangements if she doesn't hear from you by tomorrow morning."

  The deceased woman's body wavered and rose off the floor, spears of light penetrating her translucent image. The intensity of the rumbling drew closer.

  Michael looked back at the lady who held both arms out to him. She shouted, “Hurry, Michael. I can't wait much longer. We've got to go."

  "Mom. Hurry,” Michael screamed, his gaze darting frantically down the corridor. Hearing his name called by the dead woman, he looked back toward the intensifying glow. “Wait. Wait for us. Mom's coming."

  "Now, Michael. If you're coming, you've got to come now.” The strength of the breeze spiraling through the tunnel pulled her further into the light. “I can't wait any longer,” she shouted over the rumble filling the room.

  Michael ran toward the light shielding his eyes.

  "Wait. Wait for me.” He reached toward the woman.

  "Step forward, Michael. Step into the light.” She continued to shout encouragement to the boy as she slipped further into the vortex. Her hair lashed like a pennant in the wind. She stretched to reach for Michael's hand.

  As he grasped the woman's hand and was lifted upward by the current, Lora rounded the doorframe. She screamed in horror. “Noooo. Michael, noooo. Don't go."

  Michael reached for his mom, fighting against the vortex pulling him backward toward the woman. “We have to go, Mom. Hurry and come with me."

  Lora tried to grab her son, struggling against the wind that now drew her toward the light. Her clothes whipping in frenzy against her body, Lora shouted, “Don't go. We have to find your father."

  Tears streamed down Michael's face as he fought the momentum. “No Mom. I don't want to. Please come with me to the other place."

  Lora dropped to her knees and cried out against the roar. “I can't. I can't go against his wishes.” She reached toward Michael. “Grab my hand.” Seeing Michael fight to reach her, she said, “Come on, baby. Just a few more steps."

  His fingertips brushed briefly against the back of his mother's outstretched hand, then Michael's arm dropped to his side. The momentum of the wind pulled him back toward the dead woman. His chest heaving with sobs, he turned away from his mother and reached for the woman's hand. “I'm ready."

  Michael looked back toward his mother as they faded into the distance. “I love you, Mom,” he shouted. “Don't let Dad be mean anymore.” The pair faded into the tunnel, beginning their walk down the corridor of light.

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  19

  -

  Mr. Bakke and Jane swayed rhythmically on a suspended wooden swing, a rusted chain squeaking in protest with each forward movement. The unbearable humidity had even drained energy from the resort's guests. Vacationers had switched from high-speed to slow-motion to surrender. Jane fanned Mr. Bakke's newspaper back and forth attempting to stir the air. A group of guests meandered by the cabin and Jane waved the newspaper in greeting.

  With one leg tucked under her and the other tapping against the wooden planking, Sadie sat next to them in an Adirondack chair. Billowing thunderheads clustered on the horizon.

  "I sure hope that thunderstorm gets rid of the heat,” Jane said. “I've never sweat so much in my life."

  "If you'd wear shorts, you'd feel better,” Sadie said without looking up from her magazine.

  Belly waddled up to Sadie, licked her red toenails, and plopped down by her side. He looked from sister to sister, panting with discomfort.

  Even though warm weather was good for business, the hot spell had been around too long. Sadie looked forward to a break. Earlier in the day she had assisted the resort manager with an unusually high volume of calls from city dwellers. Seeking relief from the heat seemed a priority. More than likely the weather was as hot at the resort as it was in the city, but the fact guests could spend time on the water made a trip up north worthwhile.

  "You know I refuse to wear shorts. I don't want to become the brunt of jokes like you are."

  "I beg your pardon.” Sadie closed her magazine and dropped it on the porch floor. “I'll have you know, this is a first class outfit. I paid good money for it."

  "If that's what you think, then you need new eyes. You're wearing white pants.” Jane pointed as if that explained everything.

  "I already know that,” Sadie said.

  "Every time you walk in front of me, I can see your red thong through the fabric. You look ridiculous.” Jane nodded with conviction.

  Sadie stood and walked over to Jane. “First of all these are Capri's, not pants.” She turned around and bent over slightly. “Second of all, my red thong matches my red shirt and sandals. The waist part of the thong is supposed to show above my hip huggers. It's all the rage. If you'd read my fashion magazines once in a while, you'd know that."

  Mr. Bakke rested his head against the back of the porch swing while his foot kept the swing in motion. As Sadie presented her fashion commentary, Mr. Bakke slid his glasses off the top of his head and positioned them over his eyes.

  "Well don't go anywhere looking like that. And don't tell anyone you're related to me. I'd die of embarrassment if they found out,” Jane said.

  "I think they already know that,” Mr. Bakke said.

  Jane clucked her tongue in disgust. She glared at Mr. Bakke. “Put those glasses back on top your head and mind your own business."

  Wrinkling her nose and fanning the air, Sadie said, “My goodness, Belly is rank tonight. Did you pawn your cooking off on him again?"

  "A little bit,” Jane said. “I let him lick your plate since you didn't eat it. You shouldn't let good food go to waste."

  Jane bent to pick the magazine off the porch floor and flicked at the dirt particles clinging to the cover. “Weren't you too hard on Aanders this afternoon? You had him in tears. I still think you should apologize."

  "I'm not going to apologize.” Irritated Jane brought it up for the second time, Sadie said, “Tim's got Aanders believing his father was murdered. That's all he talked about on the way to the nursing home this morning. “

  "Bu
t that's what Lon Friborg thinks, too."

  "I understand that,” Sadie said. “That isn't what Tim and Aanders need to worry about. Tim's got to concentrate on his death decision. Time is growing short."

  "From what you told me, Tim's imagination got the best of him,” Mr. Bakke said. “If he thinks he saw a rifle before the car rolled, I'll bet it was that movie that put those thoughts in Tim's head."

  "I told Tim and Aanders that same thing. They refused to listen. How is Aanders going to learn to become a death coach if I'm not firm with him? He clearly doesn't grasp the importance."

  Mr. Bakke pushed his glasses back on his nose. “I got the impression he doesn't want to serve as a death coach. He told me he was going to ask you to find someone else."

  Jane took the newspaper off Mr. Bakke's lap and fanned the paper between them, causing his hair to stand erect with each swirl of air. “Why don't you do that, Sadie?"

  "Do what?” Sadie waved at another group of guests passing by. The guest's dog bounded toward the porch and Belly uttered a half-hearted growl before laying his head back on his paws.

  "Find another coach, so Aanders doesn't have to do it."

  "In case you didn't notice,” Sadie said, “there isn't a Death Coaches-R-Us store in Pinecone Landing. I can't pull one off the shelf."

  Aanders kept his gaze on his feet as he walked up to the porch and took both steps in a single stride. When Tim didn't follow, Aanders shot a quick glance at Sadie before hopping back down to assist Tim up the stairs. “He's weaker today."

  "You've got to remember what we talked about,” Sadie said. “It's crucial the two of you concentrate on Tim's task.” Sadie watched Aanders put his arm around Tim's shoulder and guide him into the cabin.

  A young couple walked past the porch and waved at the trio. “How you doing?” Sadie shouted.

  The young man paused, dabbed at his face with the bottom of his T-shirt and said, “I'm really hot."

  Nodding as she tapped her lip with her finger, Sadie said, “That's a bit vain. But if it works for you I'm okay with it."

  Curtains of confusion fell over the faces of the young couple before the man began to laugh. As they walked away, the young man put his arm around his girlfriend. “That's the lady I've been telling you about."

  The crossers gathered for their round table session. Rodney propped his feet on an adjacent chair and leaned against the table. Tim and Aanders sat opposite Rodney.

  "Lora,” Sadie called out, “we can't get started until you join us."

  Rodney pointed the remote control at the television and selected a rock video channel. He thumbed the volume button until the others cringed from the noise. Heavy bass rattled the windows.

  Sadie grabbed at the remote, but Rodney raised it above his head. As Sadie jumped to reach the remote, Theo snatched it from Rodney's grasp. He pointed it at him and clicked furiously.

  Rodney stomped toward the inner room and kicked his foot against the wooden door. “Let the cry baby stay in her room. She's been bawling all day. She cried at the nursing home and then we had to listen to her all the way home. I'm sick of it.” Rodney slammed his fist against the door. “You should be glad you're rid of that little prick."

  A gasping sob came from behind the inner room door. Sadie opened it and reached for Lora. “You need to join us so we can make sense of what happened.” Sadie eased Lora from the room and guided her to a chair. “You've still got a decision to make."

  "She already decided to go with her old man,” Rodney said. “She told me that when we got back. Let her go. Maybe he can set her straight."

  Sadie ran her hand up and down Lora's back. She asked her to explain the exact circumstances that led to her son passing through to the other side. Lora relived the afternoon's events through heavy weeping.

  "Why didn't you go through the tunnel at the same time?” Aanders said.

  "Because I knew he wanted to go to the parallel world. I tried to get him to come back. At first he tried, but then it looked like he gave up,” Lora said.

  "I don't think he gave up. He wanted to go to the parallel world. He was afraid you'd make him change his mind.” Sadie waited while Lora tried to regain her composure. She also waited for the denial.

  Tipping her head back Lora burst into tears again. “My husband is going to be so angry. He always said I was a terrible mother.” She placed her fists on the table. “He'll never forgive me."

  Curiosity flickered in Aanders’ eyes as he looked at Sadie. “Why didn't she go to her husband the same time Michael went to the parallel world?"

  "I'm glad you're asking questions. It's the best way to learn."

  Sadie pulled her chair closer to the table. “Crosssers can't step into the tunnel unless they've made their declaration. It's the same as if they never found someone on the brink. It results in death without purpose. But if someone who has already made their declaration steps in ahead of them, that person determines the final path.” Sadie reached for Lora's hand. “I think Lora remembered that whoever steps into the tunnel first makes the decision. She knew Michael wanted to go to the parallel world."

  "I begged him to come back. He tried, but the power of the tunnel was too strong.” Lora buried her face in the crook of her elbow.

  "Lora you know that's not what happened. Michael made a conscious decision. It was a sound decision. He didn't want to live in fear any more and knew what had to be done. You should be proud of him."

  Theo looked at Aanders. “If you're going to help your crossers, you'd better listen to everything Sadie tells you."

  Raising her brows in astonishment, Sadie bit her tongue to keep from commenting on Theo's observation. Theo wanted Aanders to pay attention, yet Theo refused to listen. The bitterness and penchant for revenge Theo displayed during the afternoon had frustrated her, but Sadie had no intention of letting the others in on their confidential conversation.

  "Lora, you've got to rethink your decision. Michael needs you. It would be in your best interest to join your son. Your self-esteem is so eroded you can't think straight.” Sadie leaned toward Lora. “Choosing to go to your husband is the worst decision you could make. He's not going to change."

  "Why does he need to change?” Rodney said. “Why can't she change? She needs to do what he says instead of moping around all the time. You're making him out to be the bad guy."

  Theo scooted his chair over until his arm pushed against Rodney. He leaned within two inches of Rodney's face. “You are going to close that mouth and keep it closed until I tell you to open it. Is there any part of what I said that requires clarification?"

  "Shit,” Rodney mumbled in two syllables as he leaned away from Theo. “Just cuz you're a judge doesn't mean you can boss me around."

  Theo put his hand on the back of Rodney's chair and whispered in his ear. “Yes, it does."

  Jane opened the screen door and let Belly in. The dog checked his empty dish before ambling over to Theo and placing his jowls on the man's black slacks.

  "Would you please remove your dog from my leg?"

  "He's not my dog."

  "Do you realize how idiotic that sounds?"

  Sadie put her hands on her waist and jutted her left hip. “The truth is never idiotic. But those who can't interpret it may be."

  Dismissing her comment with a look of disgust, Theo stood and opened a cabinet door. He pulled a box of dog treats from the shelf and placed several in Belly's dish.

  "Don't do that. He's too fat already,” Sadie said. “And besides, he's got gas from Jane's cooking."

  "You might as well add vulgarity to your ever-growing list of shortcomings,” Theo said. “I'd be willing to loan you a second sheet of paper. Or maybe you need a third."

  "Bite me,” Sadie said. “You're not perfect either."

  "Were any of you successful in zeroing in on someone close to death?” Sadie listened to Theo and Tim discuss the pending death of two nursing home residents. Aanders added commentary when Tim left things out. She
encouraged Aanders to be mindful of all the crossers, not just Tim.

  "I have a question,” Rodney interrupted, waving a fist full of mail at Sadie. “Why is your mail addressed to Fifilomine instead of Sadie?"

  "Why were you going through my mail?"

  "I was looking for money."

  Sadie grabbed the mail and shoved it in a drawer. “My real name is Fifilomine. Actually both Jane and I have the same first name. Fifilomine. My mother chose that name to get even with the man who got her pregnant. He refused to marry her. It's that classic story of the man forgetting to mention he already had a wife."

  Gesturing, she put her index finger on her chest. “My real name is Fifilomine Sadie and Jane's is Fifilomine Jane. It just so happens the man's wife was also named Fifilomine. Does that answer your question?"

  "Now I know where you get your personality quirks,” Theo said. “From your mother."

  Puzzled, Tim and Aanders looked at one another. “What was your dad's name?” Aanders said.

  "That doesn't matter. Actually our mother refused to tell us who our father was. All that mattered was that she got revenge."

  "Was your mom the death coach who trained you?” The group strained to hear Tim's question.

  "My coach was the man who took my mother in when her parents disowned her. Years ago it was a bad thing to have a child out of wedlock.” Sadie looked at the boys. “That means you didn't have a husband."

  "The man befriended my mother and offered her a job at his resort. Back then Witt's End was called Swanson's Resort. When that man died, she got the resort and renamed it Witt's End."

  As memories washed over her, Sadie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into the back of her chair. “I found out I was a death coach when I was twenty-four-years old. It was quite a shock. I had the same urge to deny it as Aanders has, but Mr. Swanson was patient. He taught me everything he knew. When I saw a rainbow at midnight, I became responsible for my own crossers."