“I’ll let him know,” Alice said. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear it.”
Over the coming weeks, Marcia became increasingly interested in Preston’s new friends, and particularly how much enjoyment he seemed to be getting out of talking and being with them. He told her how Johnny was abandoned as an infant by his parents, left to an institution, that he actually was not retarded, how Johnny might be able to receive special education, and about Preston’s discussions with a speech therapist. He told her about a plan he had that would involve all of the group, something about a restaurant with entertainment where Missy could be involved in the show, Corey could make the bar, Tommy could be the bartender and head of security, and Johnny could be in charge of the dishwashing staff in the kitchen. Marcia thought it was a little crazy, particularly since Missy wanted to be a showgirl in Vegas, not some restaurant. She didn’t want to throw a damper on his idea, but she let him know her thoughts. “Doesn’t Missy want to stay in Vegas? I thought she had something going with an agent, a chance for her to get into a show.”
“She does, and the agent’s still working on that. But these shows don’t last forever, and I’m trying to figure out some type of long-term solution or plan for all these people to use their individual skill sets, work together in some enterprise, and be able to have a revenue stream, a source of money that each of them can count on. And at the same time, have the enterprise build equity. Maybe it’s not a restaurant, maybe it’s something else. I just want to find a way that works for them going forward. Something that will give them security.”
“You’ve got it all figured out,” Marcia said, pleased to see Preston worried about other people instead of himself. At the same time, she worried about Preston’s proclivity to control. “I understand what you want to do for Missy and the others. But what they want is important. Before you go too far with your planning, you might want to talk with them.”
Preston’s attitude toward her was entirely different and wonderful. Marcia was heartened by Preston’s new-found sensitivity, not only to others but in the way he regarded her. More respect, more interest in what she had to say. Even noticing when she was feeling a bit queasy in the morning, and wondering why.
Preston studied Marcia’s face as if reading her mind, and smiled. She smiled back, wondering whether she could trust her growing sense that she could be herself, that Preston would love the real her, and whether this was the time to tell him.
Preston asked Marcia to sit down, explaining he had something important to discuss.
He looked hesitant before the out-pouring of words: “Honey, I want to have . . . to start a family. I know I’ve been selfish about . . . a lot of things, but I really want . . . a little Marcia. What do you think?”
Tears ran down Marcia’s face. “Well, Preston, your timing’s pretty good. If you want us to have a baby, I think that can be arranged. Sooner than you think.”
Preston simply stared and then jumped up, her words fully sinking in.
“You mean . . . ”
“Yes, my love, you’re going to be a daddy.”
Chapter 46
Joe was happy to bring the Mountain Stream back to Marsh Harbour after spending a few days in Nassau, then three more weeks fishing with his buddies. Before pulling into his slip, Joe stopped at the end of the dock to fuel his boat and chat with Ed, the dock master. After the crossing, Buck was eager to jump on the dock and spend time on land before he plunged in the harbor for a cool swim.
With the boat back in his slip, Joe gave Buck a fresh water bath and cleaned his ears, and gave his boat a thorough wash-down and cleaning. With the boat finally clean, Joe began to dry it with a shammy, starting at the bow. Buck sat in the shade of the cockpit and watched him work. It was hot, and Joe was working up quite a sweat, but the labor felt good and island music coming from the speakers on the bridge added a bounce to the shammy.
When he got to the cockpit, Joe dropped the shammy, smelling the strong and distinct odor of electrical wires burning. He figured he must have a fire in the engine room. He ordered Buck off the boat and shouted, “Fire!” to the dock master, worried about the fuel tanks at the end of the dock and wanting to give him time to react. Then he grabbed the large fire extinguisher in the salon, knowing that water would not help if the diesel fuel ignited.
He carefully opened the door to the engine room, staying to one side to avoid any flames bursting out. He hoped to get to the electrical wires before that happened. The dock master and two others came running to his boat as he opened the door. He yelled for them to stay back. The door opened, and he was relieved to see no flames. He rushed into the engine room with a flashlight in one hand, fire extinguisher in the other. He searched for the smoke and burning wires. He could not find either, but he knew they were there from the strong smell. He called for help, and the dock master hopped on the boat.
“I’ve got electrical wires burning somewhere in the engine room, Eddie,” Joe said, “but I can’t find them. Would you have a look?”
“I don’t smell anything,” the dock master said, climbing into the engine room. After about five minutes, he came out and joined Joe in the cockpit. He looked confused. “I don’t smell anything, Joe, anywhere in the engine room or on your boat. Your batteries look good, all the connections look good, the wires look good. I think you’re in good shape down there.”
Joe jumped back in the engine room again, this time just with the light. He stayed in there ten minutes. Then he came back out. The dock master was still on his boat.
“You’re right, Eddie,” he said. “Sorry I yelled fire. I just wanted to be careful, because I was sure we had an electrical fire, and that’s part of the drill.”
“Well, I’m glad you don’t,” Eddie said. “I’m glad you’re in good shape. No problem, Joe.” He went back to the end of the dock, where he was working on another boat. The others had already left. Joe stood there alone with Buck. He ruffled the old boy’s ears and stared off over the water.
“Well, Buck, my boat’s in good shape. I’m not.” He picked up his cell phone and punched Red’s number.
“Hi, Joe. What’s up?”
“Red, it’s time. Come now,” Joe said and hung up.
Joe packed a small bag with a few things, including his wallet, computer, the file that contained his will, his passport, and Buck’s papers. He went through his boat and cleaned out the refrigerator and freezer, carefully stacking all the food, frozen lobsters, fish, and drinks in cardboard boxes. He carried the boxes off the boat and down the dock to the Jib Room and into the kitchen, where he found the owner, whom he always called Buddy.
“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he said, “and I want you to have all of this. Go ahead and use it, eat it, or sell it to your guests.”
“You sure you don’t want some of this, Joe? These lobsters look great, and there’s a ton of fish here. I’ll be glad to keep this for you in our freezers.”
“No, Buddy, I want you to have it. I want you to use it. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Please use it up. And I want to thank you for all the wonderful meals I’ve had here, the great service. We’ve had some outstanding times, and you’ve always made me, and Buck, too, feel at home.”
“Hey Joe, you’re part of the family. So is Buck. You know that. Stop acting like you’re never going to see us again. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back. We’ll do it again.”
“That sounds good,” Joe said. “Nothing I’d like better than to do it again. I’ve got to shut the boat down now, and Buck and I have to get to the airport. I’ll leave the key to my boat on the counter. Call us a taxi, would you?”
“You got it, Joe. Have a great trip.”
At the airport, Joe checked with Continental and learned the next flight would not be in until 3:30 p.m. That meant he had more than four hours to wait. He sat down with Buck. He tried to keep calm, employing the sam
e techniques that had served him well in his Navy days. The discipline was there, but this time seemed different.
As he sat there, he could not help but play his life out in his mind. He thought of his Uncle Howard, his Aunt Lettie, and the mountains. Playing baseball, his teachers, getting into Annapolis, his time there. Then his submarine duty and meeting Ashley that night in Charleston.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. “How you doin’, Cap?”
“How did you get here, Red?” Joe said, standing up. “The plane’s not due in for another three hours.”
“You said now, Cap. I’ve got a private plane waiting, a Lear jet. Let’s go.”
Joe hugged Red, and Red introduced him to the captain.
“Right this way, sir. You don’t have to go through the normal procedure or security. We’re ready to take you and your dog right now. Our plane’s right over there,” he said, pointing and reaching for Joe’s bag.
“Thank you, but I’d rather carry my bag.” Within ten minutes, they were in the air, headed for Charleston.
“Thanks for coming, Red.”
His friend simply nodded.
“I’ve drawn up a will, Red.” Joe showed it to him. “I’d like to ask you and the captain to witness my signing it.”
Red nodded and went up to the cabin, put on headphones, and told the captain what Joe wanted to do. The captain nodded. Red came back and told Joe to go ahead and sign the will. Joe did. Then Red signed over one of the witness lines, and took the will to the captain. The captain took off his headphones, turned to Joe, and asked him if it was his signature on the will. Joe said yes. The captain saluted and signed his name over the other witness line and handed the will back to Red.
“Would you keep this original, Red, and give it to Alice as soon as you can. She’ll know what to do with it. And I need to talk with you about a few things.”
Buck, who had been sitting in his seat looking out the window, turned and looked at Joe. His ears perked up and he slowly climbed down from the seat and edged over to Joe, sat down, and leaning against his legs, put his head on Joe’s lap.
“I figured that, Cap. Are you up to it now?” Red asked, the pain showing in Joe’s face.
“This is a good time,” Joe said, petting Buck’s head and then leaning down and kissing him. “And I’d feel better having the conversation while I know I can. First of all, thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all you’ve done. For always being there.” Joe stopped talking for a while. Joe and Red heard only the muffled sound of the jet.
Then Joe continued. “I promised Ashley I would have a full Navy funeral and burial service. I never dreamed she would go before me. I don’t really care about the ceremonial part, you know. But I told her I’d do that. I don’t know if I can still do that now. Can you try to arrange it? If you can, for Ashley, I’d like our Navy guys to do what they do at my funeral. I’d also like them to do what they do at the gravesite. I don’t want an open casket. But I would like a casket made of fine wood. Cherry, if possible. The one to talk to is Clayton Anderson at Anderson Mortuary in Braydon. He’ll know how to handle everything at the funeral. Except that the formal Navy ceremonial component will be different. Just tell him that’s the way I want it. Also, Red, if you can pull it off, I’d like Buck involved, somehow.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Oh, Red, there’s one other thing. There are six people I have sort of looked after in some ways, tried to be a friend to, helped them do what they couldn’t do. In one way or another, they needed a hand.”
Joe fell silent again and stared out the window of the plane, seeing nothing. After a few minutes, he looked back at Red.
“Alice is the executrix of my will. She’s done it many times before, and she’ll know what to do. You should be in touch with her, because you’re one of the beneficiaries. She’ll handle that. She’s going to look after Buck, too, and my house, so none of that’s a problem. I’m leaving you my boat and my fishing gear, among other things, but don’t feel you have to keep it if you don’t want to use it. You can either use it or sell it and use the money, whatever works for you. The same with my truck. I guess that’s it, Red. Do you have any questions?”
Red was silent for a while with that confident serenity that was their common legacy from their Navy days. Then he looked at Joe and said, “No, I don’t. Everything understood. I’ll get it done. Would you like something to eat?”
“There’s food on this plane?”
“Yes, sir. Nothing but the finest,” he said, handing Joe a large tray of gourmet sandwiches, cheese, fresh fruit, pickles, and potato chips. Then Red reached in a cooler and brought out a cold bottle of Sam Adams for Joe and a bottle of Bass Ale for himself.
Before long, they landed at the private airfield at Charleston, where a limo was standing by. They went directly to Joe’s office, where Alice was waiting.
Joe entered with Red and Buck behind him. Alice appeared to be worried. “Joe, it’s good to see you. Are you okay? All Red told me was that you had decided to come home, and he thought you might want to see me. Do you have some work you want me to do?”
“I do want to see you, Alice. Let’s go in my office and have a talk.”
Joe disclosed his situation, explained the will, and reviewed all of the arrangements. He told Alice how much he appreciated her always being there for him and his clients and his friends. When he informed her he was leaving her his home, and Buck, Alice could not hold back the tears. She reached for him, grabbing and squeezing his arm.
“Joe, there are not words . . . or if there are, I don’t know what to say. I admire you so. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” he said.
“You are always so calm, even . . . now. Have you ever been afraid of anything your entire life?”
“I’m not going to be able to give you a long answer – what that question deserves, Alice,” Joe said, knowing that he was beginning to have a seizure, starting to see flashes of bright light. “Actually I’m a little scared right now. I’ve experienced fear in big ways and little ways all my life. When I’ve been able to beat it, in the end, I’ve felt exhilarated. But there was always fear, mainly of the uncertainty of life.” As Joe talked, he felt weak and strange, like he was listening to himself from another place. He saw his Aunt Lettie, heard her voice, felt himself slipping, then saw Ashley. He kept going, but his voice was fading: “In terms of living the only thing I have feared is living life without meaning and love, and you made that fear go away. When you died, a part of me died, too.”
Alice knew he wasn’t talking to her anymore. “God bless you,” she whispered, squeezing Joe’s hand as if willing him not to go. But she let him gently push her back as he closed his eyes, and fell flat on the floor, fading away.
Chapter 47
Preston approached Anderson Mortuary, holding Marcia closely at his side. He’d been shocked when Alice had called to say that Joe was gone. He could neither believe it nor accept it. Joe was such a major, unselfish force. How could he be dead?
Two men in black suits at the front door bordered by a white column on each side greeted Preston and Marcia. Once inside, they were directed to a room on the right. Before entering, Marcia walked to the registry laid out on a small stand with a light, glanced over at Preston, and signed their names. The room was large and rectangular with pastel green walls, lighted by several tasteful lamps and further illuminated by six windows bordered by heavy dark green velvet trim. In the front was a pipe organ attended by an elderly woman with short gray hair, wearing a black robe.
The wall-to-wall carpeted room was divided by a five-foot-wide, thick runner, which formed an aisle between neatly ordered straight-backed armchairs. To the left at front was an ornate pulpit. In the center and two steps up was a platform. Even though Preston and Marcia arrived early, so many people were already seated
that Preston worried whether they would find seats. As they walked in, he immediately surveyed the room but did not see a casket. He wondered why there were no ushers at that moment, but they were finally able to settle in near the back.
Joe’s in-laws were seated in the front row on the left, joined by Alice, Red and Reverend Barrett. Trying not to look too obvious, Preston scanned the room. He recognized Casey and Alex, sitting together. He questioned why there was a block of empty seats in the right front. In a moment, a group of lawyers from the Braydon County Bar filed in and sat in that section. Preston thought he saw Corey with Barbara, but he was not sure. He couldn’t see everyone, and he wasn’t sure whether Missy and the others were there.
At last, the room was packed and quiet except for the soft but unfamiliar music coming from the organ. That, too, ended when an eight-man Navy color guard entered the room. Each member wore a crisp, white naval uniform with a black silk tie folded at chest level, a white belt fastened by a shiny brass buckle, and a white cap perched on his head. Two sailors carried flags – the U.S. flag, and the Navy flag – each held in front by a blue leather strap and a shiny brass holder. The flag bearers marched smartly down the aisle, with three other sailors on each side of a closed cherry casket covered by the American flag. Everyone in the room stood, eyes fixed on the color guard as they proceeded down the aisle, all in perfect step. The casket was followed by Buck. As the casket went by, several people softly cried. At the front of the room, the guardsmen carrying the flags did an about-face, with the bearer of the American flag standing on the right, that of the Navy flag on the left. The six sailors carrying the casket carefully placed it on the stand. They then joined the flag bearers, three on each side, where they remained at attention. Buck lay down directly in front of the casket, putting his head between his extended front paws.
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