by Beth Solheim
"I guess I'll have to wait to find out,” Sadie said. “Maybe you'll have to worship me as a goddess and wait on me hand and foot."
"Then nothing will change, will it?” Jane's attempt at humor was lost in another torrent of tears.
A family of four walked past the cabin and waved at the sisters. They briefly stopped to offer condolences. After they left, Sadie said, “You know what else shocked me today?"
Jane dabbed at her eyes and shook her head.
"Lora didn't go through the light with Tim."
Gasping in amazement, Jane said, “Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. She's sitting right there.” Motioning toward Lora on the porch step, Sadie continued in a whisper, “Lora knew Tim had chosen to return to his parents rather than go to the parallel world. If that's really where Lora wanted to go, she'd have taken advantage of Mr. Bakke's death and gone with Tim. Apparently she's had second thoughts."
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32
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Aanders body jerked as a clap of thunder jolted him from a troubled sleep. Closing his eyes and burrowing deeper into his pillow, he tried to block the sound of rain hammering against the side of the mortuary. Lightning sizzled outside his window. As if competing with nature's fireworks, a deafening clap of thunder exploded through the darkness before fading into a distant echo.
Aanders’ bed sheets were clammy from the heavy humidity. He heard his mother hurrying from room to room, shutting the windows against the driving rain. After sitting on the edge of his bed to get his bearings, he rose and pulled the window frame down until it met the sill.
Nan wrapped on his door. “I need to check your window."
"I just shut it,” Aanders said. “The floor didn't get wet."
Nan lingered outside the closed door. “Are you okay? Are you getting any rest with all the racket?” Nan turned the knob and poked her head into Aanders’ room. “Do you mind if I come in?"
Aanders retreated to the privacy of his covers and pulled them tight over his head.
After securing her robe ties around her waist, Nan sat on the side of her son's bed. Running her hand along his back, she said, “You've had a terrible day. I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you after Mr. Bakke died. I'm here if you want to talk about it."
Aanders pulled his shoulder away as his mother smoothed her hand over the outline of his arm. “Sadie said you were a real help when Mr. Bakke died. I know you always thought of him as a grandfather.” Nan smiled. “I did too. He was a wonderful man."
Aanders drew his knees closer to his chest. Nan said, “You can't avoid talking about Tim's death forever. I'd like to know how you feel."
Nan shuddered as lightning crackled near the window. “Wow. That was way too close.” She cautiously looked through the window. “I'm always ready to listen. Just let me know if you need me."
A few sniffled gulps broke through despite Aanders’ attempt to hold his breath against the sobs threatening to escape. His mother tugged at the edge of his sheet. He didn't want her to invade his privacy. It was his cocoon. It was the one place, the only place he could seek refuge from the sorrows of the day. Tim was gone. Gone forever.
Prying the fabric away from his grasp, Nan uncovered her son's head and placed her cheek against his. “I'm so sorry about Tim's death. He was my friend, too. And now we've lost Mr. Bakke. I'm going to miss them both."
Aanders’ chest heaved with sobs. Nan freed him from the tangled sheet and slipped her arms under his body. Swaying gently with her son in her arms, she let her tears flow, too. Wishing desperately for a black hole to open up and swallow him so he wouldn't have to face another day without his best friend, Aanders sank into the safety of his mother's arms. “He's gone,” he gasped, trying to draw air into a chest heavy with grief. “Tim's really gone."
Nodding understanding, Nan held him tighter.
"Why did it happen? Tim didn't hurt anyone.” Aanders’ chest rose and fell sharply, spasms rocking his body. Trying to make sense of the injustice, he said, “I heard Sadie tell you about Paul. Why do people do bad things like that? Why did he have to shoot at Tim's Dad?"
With Aanders’ head cradled against her, Nan stroked his hair. “The evidence is going to come out over the next few days. Maybe then we'll understand what happened."
Nan dropped her head back and closed her eyes. “I feel like such a failure. I almost subjected us to life with a man I never really knew. And now they think he might have murdered Richard Fossum.” She ran her finger under her eye to stem a tear. “I'm sorry Aanders. I made a mistake."
"That's okay Mom. You didn't know."
As the night wore on, the two propped themselves against the headboard and talked about things on their minds.
"Can we go visit Tim's grave again? I need to make sure he's doing okay."
"Of course. Any time you want,” Nan said.
"Maybe I can take over Mr. Bakke's duties. I mean helping you with funerals like he used to do. Tim's Dad used to pay him to work in his office. Maybe I can earn money like that, too."
"Sounds like a good idea,” Nan said. “Let's get through the next few days first. Then we'll make a plan."
Nan waited for Aanders to slip into sleep before removing her arm from behind his back. She propped a pillow under his head. Tiptoeing from his room, she looked back through the crack in the door. “You've come a long way, little man.” Patting her lips and sending a silent kiss of admiration, she closed the door and returned to her bed.
Fifteen minutes passed before Aanders woke to the gentle rustle of leaves outside his window. Turning toward the illumination, he saw a bright rainbow arcing in the distance. He untangled his legs from the covers and rushed to the window.
The rainbow radiated the most vibrant colors he'd ever seen. Waves of blue, red, and yellow rose and fell, dancing above each arc as the colors grew in intensity. “A rainbow at midnight,” he whispered. “It's a rainbow at midnight."
A pebble pelted against his window. Startled, he jumped back from the sill. He cautiously peeked over the window ledge. Another one tinkled against the pane. Scanning the ground he tried to distinguish the shadows from the trees and noticed a shadow edge along a Norway pine. He strained to see through the pale light of the rainbow. The shadow moved again. It was Sadie. He slowly raised the window and pressed his nose against the screen.
Signaling with the wave of her arm, she whispered excitedly, “Did you see it?"
Aanders followed the point of her finger. “I see it.” Grinning broadly, he released the screen's latch and swung it wide. He put a leg through the opening, lowered himself to the ground, and joined Sadie under the tree.
The pair followed the rainbow's arc toward the shore, commenting on the ripples rising off the bright colors. A few more droplets fell as the clouds returned to their pre-tempest buoyancy.
Sadie put her arm around Aanders and hugged him to her side. “You did it. I'm so proud of you. By setting your sorrow aside and making sure Tim made it through the light, you earned your rainbow at midnight."
Hues of color danced around them. “I'm glad he's with his mom and dad,” Aanders said. “He really missed them.” He cocked his head toward his left shoulder and gazed questioningly at Sadie. “Did you notice Lora didn't go with Tim and Mr. Bakke? Do you think she decided to go to the parallel world to find her son?"
"Let's hope so. Let's hope she's got the sense to do that."
Aanders held his hand out. “It stopped raining."
"They've quit crying,” Sadie said. She pointed toward the sky. “Look at that glow from the rainbow and then look at that billowy cloud behind the rainbow. That's called a cloud of crossers.” She watched Aanders look back and forth over the horizon. “It's full of crossers lost. When you see billowy clouds during a rain storm, it's the crossers lost crying for the future they never realized. Tonight they were crying tears of joy."
"It's always cause to celebrate when a new death coac
h earns their rainbow,” Sadie said. “For all we know, you're the youngest death coach ever chosen. I'm sure the crossers lost are pleased with the sacrifice you made.” Lifting his hand off the bench, she cradled it to her cheek. “A new journey begins tonight. Do you think you're ready ?"
"No. But Tim and I talked about it. I'm going to do what he asked me to do.” Aanders’ gaze fell upon the lake. “Sometimes Tim was so smart, it was scary. He told me it'd be easier for me if I always pretended he was walking beside me."
"He's right, you know,” Sadie said.
Aanders sighed deeply. “That's what's so scary."
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33
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Sadie hurried up onto the porch, opened the door and waved the newspaper at Jane, who sat lost in concentration at the kitchen table. Nan had asked Jane to prepare an obituary for Mr. Bakke. Jane sighed with exasperation, wiped the eraser back and forth over her last sentence. Struggling to find the proper wording, Jane had queried Sadie several times before Sadie walked over to the lodge to buy a newspaper.
Mr. Bakke had spent the last fifty years of his life as handyman and caretaker at the Witt's End Resort. Vina, the twins’ mother, had hired him when he was a young man. He never realized the desire to seek alternative employment. Taking a leave from the resort, he had served four years in the Army with the knowledge his position would remain open until his return.
Vina had treated the shy, unremarkable little man as a son. When Vina passed away, Mr. Bakke pitched in with unwavering vigor to make sure the twin's transition to resort owners went as smooth as possible.
"I've never seen such a buzz over the headlines. People stood five deep at the counter buying copies of today's paper,” Sadie said. The screen door slammed behind her. A muffled bark caused her to retreat and swing the door open to let Belly in. The dog sauntered over to Mr. Bakke's chair and sniffed vigorously before looking toward the kitchen table.
Jane dabbed a tear with the edge of her napkin before rising and walking to Mr. Bakke's chair. Squatting down to pet the dog, she whispered, “You miss him too, don't you fella?” She pressed her cheek against the chair and cried softly. “What am I going to do, Sadie? I feel so empty. He was part of our lives for so many years I can't remember what it was like without him."
Sadie knelt next to her sister. “He's watching you, you know. He knows how you feel. He told me to take care of you. He told me that as he was going through the light."
"You?” Jane laughed. “He must have lost his mind when he hit his head.” The conflicting emotions made Jane cry even harder.
"He told me to throw your clothes away and take you shopping,” Sadie said. “He insisted I buy you a thong."
"Now I know you're pulling my leg."
"It was worth a try,” Sadie said. After helping her sister into her chair, Sadie listened while Jane read through the obituary, pausing from time to time to sniffle and wipe her nose.
"Because he didn't have any family, Nan asked me to make decisions. I've got most of the stuff picked out for the funeral,” Jane said. “I think he'll be happy with what I've selected."
"Of course he will. He worshipped you. His goal in life was to make you happy."
"He didn't take a shine to me until he realized you had no intention of going out with him,” Jane said. “It took him a year to get over your rejection. Poor man. He hardly came out of his cabin for a month."
"But that was forty years ago,” Sadie said. “If you hadn't catered to him back then and made a fool of yourself drooling on his doorstep, he'd have eventually come around and asked you for a date on his own."
"I doubt it,” Jane said. “You totally deflated his ego. But once he got to know me, he realized I was the better catch."
"Bull,” Sadie responded. “He just settled for less. And besides, he was too horny for me. All he talked about was sex."
"Not to me,” Jane said with a huff. “That's because he realized I was pure and worth taking time to get to know."
Sadie's red glitter glasses slid down her nose as she lowered her head and scrutinized Jane. “You need to see a psychiatrist. You've lost your grip on reality.” Sadie spread the newspaper over the table.
The headlines read Local Business Man Indicted on Murder Charges. “Look at that,” Sadie said, slapping the front page with the back of her hand. “That rat Carl took all the credit."
"That's what you agreed to, wasn't it?"
"It was. But you'd think Carl could have mentioned my name in there somewhere."
"I think you're going to have to settle for the fact Carl dropped the lawsuit. He exchanged the lawsuit for your silence."
"That just frosts me,” Sadie said. “I did all the ground work, but he became the hero."
"I'm surprised he was willing to take a chance that people wouldn't find out about his business dealings with Paul."
"Unfortunately, I have to agree with him. If they haven't discovered the information by now, they're not going to find it. I'd still like to see him hang by those itty bitty balls for all the grief he caused Mrs. Fading Sun when her husband was arrested. Those diversity crusaders would love that tidbit of information."
"You've always got that to fall back on,” Jane said.
"You should have seen Carl's face when I told him that very thing. What goes around comes back to bite you. But in Carl's situation, his prejudice ended up slapping him across the face. If Mrs. Fading Sun hadn't mentioned the policy, I would never have put two and two together. At least it will keep Carl in line until the next crisis.” Sadie bit at the inside of her cheek. “If he wins the election, it'll give him power. And power makes him crazy. That's when he'll cook up another scheme to get his hands on this resort."
Jane nodded in agreement. “I'm afraid you're right. Everyone knows he needs money. His wife goes through money like water. You can tell she thought their wedding vows said for better or for purse.” Jane forced a smile. “At least we have the satisfaction that Paul will never see daylight again. Lon said Paul will probably get three life terms for murdering the Fossums. With everybody concentrating on the trial, it gives us time to get things in order. If Nan can come up with enough money to buy the mortuary and the acreage it sits on, that'll be one less thing for Carl to get his hands on."
"Is that hole in your head getting bigger?” Sadie asked, frowning at Jane's lack of comprehension. “Weren't you listening when Nan told us there's no way she's going to get a loan? The bank turned her down flat. That's why she was ready to accept Paul's proposal."
"That poor woman.” Shaking her head Jane said, “She's so embarrassed she couldn't even look me in the eye when we were picking out Mr. Bakke's urn. I told her no one blamed her for what Paul did. It's going to be a tough road until the gossip dies down."
"I heard Carl tell her the same thing after he questioned her. I think he was trying to cover his own ass by seeing if Nan knew anything about his relationship with Paul."
Jane set her jaw and rapped her fist against the table top. “He was worried about his own hide so he faked his concern about Nan. That man makes me so mad I'd like to kick him all the way to Tubuktim."
"You mean Timbuktu,” Sadie corrected.
"No, I don't,” Jane said, glaring at her sister.
Drumming her fingers against the table, Sadie decided not to educate her sister in the finer points of geography and opted instead to help Jane with her project. Pushing a scissors across the table, Sadie said, “There's an article about Mr. Bakke's accident on page three. You might want to cut it out and add it to your scrapbook."
Tears flowed once again. Jane reached for the wadded-up napkin as she read the article. “That's so nice of them to mention he was a well-respected member of our resort staff. If they only knew how important he was.” She slid the scissors across the top of the article. “What would we have done without him?"
Sadie held the scrap book open so Jane could insert the article between two vinyl sheets.
Jane stood and retrieved a faded box from a shelf in the book case. “I went through mother's trunk this morning and found her old memento box. I remembered seeing her scrapbooks in there after she died. I was hoping to find something about Mr. Bakke's discharge from the Army."
The women paged through the scrapbooks, selecting several photos and articles written during Mr. Bakke's life at the resort. They arranged them on the table in order by date. “I'll send one of the dock boys to town to get a sheet of tag board so we can create a collage,” Jane said.
Laughing, Sadie pointed at one of the photos. “Remember the day Mr. Bakke was in the outhouse before we had indoor plumbing and that storm blew the top off the outhouse? All we could see was his head sticking up over what was left of the wall."
"I sure do,” Jane said. “He was so mad at you for taking that picture he didn't talk to you for two days."
"And do you remember he wouldn't repair the wall until I gave him the photo?” Sadie said. “Little did he know I had a duplicate."
Jane removed the articles and photos one by one, stacking them in the order she wanted to apply them to the tag board. “There. That's ready to go.” She slid the stack into a large envelope. She gathered the remaining loose sheets. As she lowered the scrapbooks into the memento box, a yellowed envelope fluttered to the floor.
Sadie bent to retrieve the envelope and placed it on top of the keepsakes. “What was in the envelope?"
"What envelope?"
Turning it over, Sadie noticed the familiar flair of her mother's handwriting. She smiled. “It's got our names on it."
Jane looked over Sadie's shoulder while Sadie pulled two sheets from the envelope and unfolded them. “It looks like mother wrote a birth announcement,” Sadie said. “She must have planned to put it in the newspaper because it's written on newspaper stationery.” Pointing she said, “Look at that. Those numbers must be the size of the announcement and how much it was going to cost."
"She must not have had them print it, because we didn't find a newspaper clipping in her scrapbooks,” Jane said. “And you know mother saved everything. Maybe she didn't dare do it. There has to be some reason she never told anyone who our father was."