by DW Davis
“Well, well, Michael, what are you doing here?” a surprised Grandma Lillian asked as she answered her door and saw me standing there.
“I was just in the neighborhood, so thought I’d drop in,” I said, knowing that she knew better.
Grandma nodded and gestured for me to come inside. “And you happened by just in time for dinner.” Noticing the Porsche, she asked, “Isn’t that Maeve’s car?”
I turned around to look back at the Porsche. “Yes, it is. I picked it up from the stable and just started driving.”
“You started driving and wound up here?” Grandma asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It was on the way back from where I wound up, more or less,” I replied, trying to smile.
“I see. Well, come in and I’ll get you some supper. After all these years, I still cook too much for one,” Grandma said.
We went into her house. I took a seat at her dining room table while she made up plates for the two of us. I tried to help. She shooed me out of the kitchen. We didn’t say much as we ate, but after the dishes were cleared Grandma refilled our iced teas and we talked.
“Michael, how are you doing, really?” she asked.
Looking down into my glass, I confessed. “I feel like someone tore out my heart and soul and the pain is never going to stop.”
“That’s about how I felt when your Grandpa Bill died,” Grandma shared as she reached over and put her hand on mine.
“How long was it before you stopped missing him?”
Grandma sat up and looked squarely at me. In a soft tone I’d rarely heard her use, she said, “What makes you think I’ve ever stopped? Michael, I miss him every day. I loved him very much. But I learned to go on without him, just like you will learn to go on without Maeve, as hard as that may be to imagine now. But you will always miss her. I can’t tell you that you won’t.”
I rubbed my hand over my head and tried to absorb her words. “Did you ever love anyone after Grandpa died?”
A sad smile touched Grandma's face. “No, Michael, your Grandpa and I had the privilege of growing old together. I had no interest in finding another man to love.”
A hint of anger rose in my mind. “Maeve and I didn’t get to grow old together. Now, without her, I don’t know that I want to grow old. Part of me wishes I could die right now and be with her again.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Michael,” Grandma said sharply.
Realizing how my outburst must have sounded, I tempered my emotions. “I know. Grandma, I don’t mean I’d do anything rash or foolish, I just want to hold her again.”
Tears started falling from my eyes.
“Michael, I know you do. I know how much you’re hurting right now. I wish I could make it stop for you.”
“With her last words, Maeve made me promise her something,” I told Grandma Lillian hesitantly.
Leaning toward me, Grandma asked, “What did she make you promise, Michael?”
It was hard to say the words. “She made me promise her that I would love again.”
I looked imploringly at my grandmother. “I don’t know if I can keep that promise.”
“Michael, the pain of your loss is still too fresh. Time really will heal your wounds. Maeve made you promise that because she loved you so much she didn’t want you spending the rest of your life without love. I know you don’t want to think about it now, but the time will come when you’re ready, and you will remember what she made you promise.”
I didn’t say anything for a long time while I thought about what Grandma Lillian said. Finally I dried my tears, blew my nose, and rose to my feet.
“Thanks, Grandma, not just for dinner, thanks for everything.”
Grandma Lillian rose and walked with me to the door. “You are welcome anytime, Michael, anytime, you hear.”
“Yes, ma’am. I love you, Grandma.” I hugged her gently.
“I love you, too, Michael. You be careful driving home,” Grandma cautioned.
When I got home that night, I parked the Porsche in the garage and walked out onto the dock, hit my knees, and prayed. I prayed that God was taking good care of Maeve. I asked him to tell her that I loved her and that I always would no matter what. And I prayed that when the time came I would be able to keep my promise.
I prayed for the strength to make it through tomorrow and the day after. I prayed that the pain would end. I prayed that Maeve and I would be together again someday.
Then I rose to my feet, walked into the house, got ready for bed, and prayed for sleep.
Twenty-three
Grandma Lillian evidently called my folks to tell them about my visit because my father called on Wednesday to see how I was doing. He mentioned they’d heard I’d picked up Maeve’s Porsche.
“Your mom wanted me to let you know we’re planning on coming up and helping you around the house this weekend,” my dad said.
“Help me do what, exactly?” I asked.
I could picture my father shrugging his shoulders and looking at my mother. “Oh, you know, help you with things.”
“Then you’d better bring sleeping bags,” I told him. “Rhiannon is coming down to help me sail the boats to Oriental. I already promised her the front bedroom.”
My father didn’t answer right away. I could tell he’d covered the mouth piece because I could hear his muffled voice telling my mom what I’d said.
The next voice on the phone was my mother’s. She wasn’t exactly happy with the idea.
“Michael, do you think that is a good idea, Rhiannon coming there right now?”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not, but I’m not calling her back and telling her not to come. I know we were out of touch for a while, but she is my oldest friend.”
“She is also an old girlfriend, Michael,” my mother reminded me, the disapproval clear in her voice.
“Mom, that’s long in the past. We don’t have those feelings for each other anymore,” I insisted, glad that she couldn't see me roll my eyes.
“Well, all right,” she conceded reluctantly. “But we are still coming up. Malori and I will stay at the Marina in Oriental.”
Acknowledging the inevitable, I asked, “What about Dad?”
“He can sleep on your couch,” my mother said, in a way that made it a command rather than a suggestion.
Wednesday and Thursday I spent making calls and drawing up plans for my trip. There was a lot of work that needed to be done, arrangements to be made, and paperwork involved to make sure everything would go smoothly. Finally, Friday arrived and with it my guests. My mother, father, and sister arrived first, soon after I had finished breakfast.
“Malori,” I greeted her, “I thought you were working at the aquarium this summer.”
Malori put her hands on her hips, tilted her head to one side, and pouted just a bit. “I took some time off to help my big brother. Is that okay?” she asked.
Not able to take her posture seriously, I smiled and said, “I suppose I can put up with you for a couple of days.”
There was an ulterior motive in her coming along, my mother’s. It became apparent when my mother suggested, “Your sister can help you and Rhiannon sail the boats to Oriental.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Mal can pick us up in Oriental and bring us back between boats,” I countered.
My mom rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything more.
“What about your fishing boat?” my father asked as he checked the coffee maker. “Are you taking that up tomorrow?”
I had given that some thought and told him my plan. “No, I thought I’d take it up the day I pick up the new boat.”
My dad frowned upon finding no coffee made. He started going through the cabinets looking for filters. “Who’s going with you to help sail the new boat back here?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve not been thinking too clearly lately.”
“That’s understandable,�
�� Dad said while dumping the old grounds into the trash and prepping the machine to make a fresh pot.
Mom had been watching him with patient amusement. When he hit the button to start the brewing cycle, she turned her attention back to me.
“Michael, I know you probably don’t want to think about this yet, but what are you going to do with Maeve’s things?”
“Actually, I have thought about it,” I said slowly. “I was hoping that while y’all are here we can go through her stuff and figure out what to do with it.”
“What about Raven?” Malori asked as she sat down at the table. “What will happen to her?”
Malori was an accomplished rider herself, and she had often ridden with Maeve.
“Rita and I talked about that the other day,” I told Malori. “Her daughter is old enough for a horse of her own now. Raven would be perfect for her. Rita offered to buy her, but I told her knowing Raven would be well taken care of was enough for me.”
“That sounds like an excellent solution,” my mother said.
“Rita and Maeve were good friends,” Malori added. “I know she’ll take good care of Raven.”
“What about Maeve’s car?” my father asked.
Impatient for his coffee, he’d moved the carafe out from under the drip basket and was holding his cup under it.
Knowing they wouldn’t approve, I told them, “Truth is, I’ve found out I really like driving it. I think I’ll keep it.”
“But what about your GTO?” Malori asked. I think she was hoping I’d say she could have it.
“I don’t know. I could keep them both, I suppose.”
“You could,” my dad said. His tone suggested I shouldn’t.
Looking into my empty coffee mug, I gnawed at my lower lip trying to suppress the pain brought on by what I was about to suggest.
“I guess what I’ve really got to decide is what to do about all the stuff in her closet. I haven’t been able to bring myself to go in there.”
My mom and Malori shared a knowing look.
“Malori and I can do that for you, Michael,” my mother said with uncharacteristic gentleness.
I’d hoped they might but hadn't wanted to come right out and ask.
“Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Malori,” I said, truly grateful.
My father had finally filled his mug.
“Now,” he said, “while your mother and Malori take care of things around here, I think you and I will go fishing.”
“Fishing?” I asked. Going fishing was the last thing I expected him to say.
“Yes,” my father replied assertively. “Your mother and I think it will do you good to get out on the water, and it will give you and me a chance to talk.”
When my mother and father were in agreement about something, it was rarely wise to argue with them. Besides, it didn't sound like such a bad idea.
We motored down river toward Oriental, stopping to fish for a while at the mouth of Dawson Creek. There wasn’t much biting, so we pulled up anchor and moved farther down river. Somehow, we managed to arrive in Oriental in time for lunch and tied up at the Wharf, a bistro with docks for boating customers. Mom and Malori met us there. I realized it was all part of some master plan, but I didn’t mind.
“After lunch, Malori and I are going to check in at the marina,” my mother announced while we were waiting for our table to be cleared. “Once we check in, we'll stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things.”
“Yeah, Michael,” Malori chimed in with a scolding tone. “Your cupboard is bare.”
“What have you been eating, Michael?” my mother wanted to know. There was genuine concern in her voice.
It wasn’t until they mentioned it that I realized I’d been living on Pop Tarts and Cheerios all week. I hadn’t really cared about what I’d been eating.
“That is not exactly a healthy diet,” my mom scolded me when I told her. “We will stock you up with some real food.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said sincerely.
When we finished lunch, my father and I motored back to River Dream while Mom and Malori checked into the marina. We tied up to the dock and took a walk up to the airstrip to check on the Cessna. It’d been sitting unattended since I flew back from Greenville. I wanted to make sure it was securely tied down in the shelter. Then, for the first time since the funeral, we walked to Maeve’s grave.
Guilt rose up in me as we approached the site. “I suppose I should be ashamed of myself that I haven’t been here every day.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” my dad said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “She’s not really here after all.”
Fighting to hold back tears, I replied, “No, she’s not. Not really. While I’m gone someone’s going to have to look after this spot, though.”
“That’s already been taken care of, son,” my dad said. “I’ve found someone who will look after the house and the grounds, including this area.”
I could always count on my dad.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
As I stood there by the grave, I felt sad and lonely but not devastated anymore. I still missed her so much, yet I knew I would be able to keep going without her. Just the day before, I don’t know if I could have said that.
“Good-bye, Maeve,” I said quietly. “You were the love of my life. I will always love you, and I will always miss you. But I will be okay. Not today, not tomorrow, but in time, I will be okay. And I will keep the promise I made you. Good-bye, my darling.”
Then I turned and walked back to the house. It was time to go on living.
Twenty-four
As my father and I approached the house, he nudged me. Looking up at him, I saw he was pointing at the back porch. I turned and looked toward the porch and saw Rhiannon waiting for us. I smiled a weak smile and waved. She waved back and came out to meet us.
“Hi, Uncle Owen. Hi, Mike,” Rhiannon said, giving me a brief hug.
“Hello, Rhiannon,” my father said, almost formally. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long, Aunt Eunice just got here and told me you guys had probably gone to the hangar to check on the plane. I was on my way to meet you when I saw you coming across the field.”
I was very glad she hadn’t come and found us. I really needed that moment at the grave site. But now I was glad she was there and told her so.
Rhiannon looked at me carefully. “How are you doing?”
Taking a deep breath before answering, I replied, “Much better; the minutes are starting to add up.”
“That’s a good sign,” she said seriously.
“Why don’t we go inside?” my dad suggested, motioning towards the house.
Supper was a simple affair that night, grilled cheese and tomato soup with corn chips. When Rhiannon learned my father would be staying at the house, she tried to get him to take the front bedroom. He wouldn’t hear of it.
We all went down to the dock after supper to make sure all was in readiness for the next day’s sailing excursions.
“Michael,” my mother began, “I still think it would be a good idea if both Malori and Rhiannon accompanied you on board.”
I should have known I hadn't heard the last of that idea.
“Yeah, Mike,” Malori added, siding with our mother. “Besides, you and I haven’t sailed together in forever.”
“I agree with Malori and your mom, Michael,” Rhiannon said.
I wondered if my mother had spoken to her about it before my father and I got back to the house.
“It will make things easier,” Rhiannon continued, “especially with the Hunter. I’ve never even been aboard her. Have you, Malori?”
Malori shook her head and fixed me with a stare that clearly asked why she hadn’t been.
Not only was I overwhelmingly outvoted, but I realized they were right. I was also taken back in time. Memories of the first weekend Rhiannon and I spent together at River Dream, and our first sail together on Riverscape, rose in my mind.
Rhiannon
had never sailed on Geddaway, but she’d spent lots of time on Riverscape once upon a time. For a moment I wondered if asking her to come had been such a great idea after all. I decided that having Malori along would be a good idea.
Judging from my father’s expression, he agreed with the ladies.
“I hadn’t thought about the complications that would arise from having such an inexperienced crew,” I said. “Very well, you will both sail with me tomorrow.”
My mother shook her head, Malori rolled her eyes, and Rhiannon looked at me with an amused grin.
“What?” I asked her.
A fleeting smile crossed Rhiannon’s face. “I just caught a glimpse of the old Michael, that’s all,” she said so softly that I was the only one who heard her. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I suggested we all go up to the house for some iced tea.
Saturday morning we were all up early. Actually, Mom and Malori woke us up early by showing up to take us to breakfast at the Minnesott Grill. Over breakfast we discussed the final plans for the day’s sailing.
There were a couple of young men in the Grill who looked like they might be Marines from Cherry Point. When we walked in, they’d been discussing sailing. After we sat down, they started discussing Malori, not loudly, but loudly enough that I could overhear them.
Even though I still thought of Malori as my kid sister, she was going on eighteen and had grown into a beautiful young lady. She was hot-looking enough to get noticed by the two young men with the GI haircuts. If I’d been in a normal state of mind, I probably would have ignored them. Instead, I rose slowly from my seat and walked over to their table.
Their conversation ceased, and they looked up at me with wry amusement as I approached their table.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. May I ask you to keep your voices down?” I requested politely.
“Up yours, bud,” the taller, dark-haired one said. The shorter guy laughed.
“Get a load a dis guy, would you?” Shorty said, motioning towards me with his thumb.