by Robbi McCoy
“Australia? I’ve never been there. Great choice. Bottom of the world. It will definitely be summer there in December.”
“Cassie, call me tonight. I’ve just had an idea.”
“Okay,” she said, sounding intrigued. “Be safe, Sweetie. I’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Love you,” Lauren said, hearing how new that sounded to her ears, despite the fact that she’d said it many times in the last few days. But it was still fresh and made her feel a little giddy. She waited for Cassie’s “I love you too,” before clicking off the call.
Chapter Forty-Two
Lauren dug into the guest room closet to find her largest suitcase, the navy blue one she hadn’t used since her trip to England. That had been the last major trip she and Faith had taken, a two-week vacation that revolved around a Viking burial pit excavation in Cumbria. For once, though, they had managed to squeeze in a short vacation that had nothing to do with Faith’s research, touring London, Stratford-on-Avon and Cambridge. That had been a good trip, Lauren recalled. During the Cumbria part of their stay, she had escaped one day with the wife of one of the archeologists, two rebellious spouses driving up to see a stretch of Hadrian’s Wall while the husband and Faith remained at the dig, poring over skeletons buried in a grave shaped like a longboat.
London had been a dream come true for Lauren. They’d been in Heathrow Airport many times over the years, on their way to or from some far-flung country, but they’d never spent any time in the city itself before that trip. She was glad she’d talked Faith into extending their England trip, that they’d been able to do London together and hadn’t put it off for some distant future that would never come, as they had so many other places.
She pulled the suitcase out into the middle of the room, noting the British Airways tag still fastened to the handle.
Lauren wasn’t a quick packer. It normally took her weeks to make all her decisions and get ready for a trip like this one. So, now, a month away from the departure date, it was not too early to start. She had just returned from her November visit to see Cassie in Albuquerque, where they had finalized this December plan, their first real adventure together.
The next few weeks would be all about Australia—choosing what to take, planning what to see, talking it all out on the phone from their separate bedrooms each night, as had become their daily routine.
Lauren opened the suitcase just as the phone rang. She bounded into the front room. Checking caller ID, she recognized Emma’s number and answered.
“Lauren,” said Emma excitedly, “I just read your introduction to the book. I have to say it made me cry. It was so touching. You did a marvelous job conveying a sense of who Faith was and what her work was about with just the right touch of the personal.”
Lauren leaned against the back of the couch as Cocoa made a circle around her ankles. “It wasn’t easy.”
“I don’t imagine it was.”
“I kept wanting to tell all kinds of things about her that had nothing to do with the subject matter of the book, like what her favorite baseball team was or how much she missed chalkboards in the classroom. I cut out a whole lot more than was left in, in the end.”
“You’re a good self-editor, then. But you are a writer, aren’t you, so no surprise there. I really have no changes to suggest to your introduction. It shows something of Faith as a woman, not just a scientist, and that’s what I was hoping to get from you.”
“Thanks. It’s all coming together so nicely. I know you’ve put a huge effort into this.”
“But I’m having fun,” Emma insisted. “I really am. Speaking of fun, have you settled on the dates of your trip?”
“Yes. Leaving a month from now.”
“I’m so jealous!”
“I hope we can bring back some usable photos, something for the book cover, at least.”
“Me too. I’m so grateful you’re doing this, you and Cassie. It’s going to make all the difference. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m doing it for me too,” Lauren said. “Not just the book.”
“Right.” Emma’s voice was subdued. “I know.”
Emma did know, Lauren thought. The two of them had an understanding, mostly unspoken, about their collaboration. Driven by their separate, private need for resolution, their efforts were almost inadvertently combining into a public tribute to Faith.
After hanging up with Emma, Lauren returned to her suitcase, ripped off the old tags, and opened it. She found a white envelope in one of the inside pockets. Pulling it out, she expected it to contain some remnant of a past trip, a pamphlet or ticket from England, most likely. But the envelope was sealed. Her name was written in Faith’s handwriting on the front: “Lauren.” That’s all. Stunned, she stood staring at it for at least a minute, trying to wrap her brain around what she had in her hand. It was Cocoa rubbing against her legs that roused her from her trance.
She sank to the edge of the bed, still staring at the envelope. Maybe it was another of those quips, Lauren thought. But she knew better already. It was more than that. It was her letter.
Lauren had sometimes wished she’d gotten one of these letters, but hadn’t expected one. Faith could have said whatever she had to say during all those months of her illness. And she did. How could there be anything left to say? Still, holding the sealed envelope in her trembling hand, she was overjoyed to think Faith’s last “I love you” was going to be hers after all.
As she sat there, she started to cry just thinking about it, so it was some time before she could actually open the envelope and pull out its contents. Unlike the other letters, this one was handwritten. Lauren wiped her eyes until she could see well enough to read it.
Dearest Lauren,
If you’re reading this, I assume you’re planning a big trip. Hooray! It makes me happy to think you’ll be doing that. I hope you haven’t waited until you’re eighty, although I do expect you’ll still be having plenty of fun at that age. I hope you’re still young and have found a new companion to share your life with.
I also hope you still have dreams for yourself and you can make them all come true. I regret I couldn’t be there to share them with you well into old age, but I don’t regret anything else. Our life together was a triumph!
You know you were more important to me than anything or anyone. I loved you dearly and never wished for more than I had. You were the fulfillment of my dreams. Never doubt that my life with you was complete and full of joy. I feel like I’m sending you out into the world now to find your own way. I know you are capable.
There’s just one last request I have of you, my love. If I know you, you’ve got my ashes sitting on the mantelpiece or some other place of honor. Please take them out somewhere and scatter them. You choose the place. I know you’ll choose well. Besides, you know I don’t believe anything of me is left in the world, anything that would care one way or another. It’s for you that I ask this. It’s time for you to say goodbye to me. The only place I wish to reside is in your heart. When all is said and done, that’s my final resting place. And, really, Lauren, I doubt your new girlfriend, no matter how sympathetic, will want my remains on her mantelpiece.
“Remains” is a funny word, isn’t it? I mean, people use it to talk about what’s left of the body, like ashes or a skeleton. But I think by now you know much more about what remains when someone dies, and it has nothing to do with something you can touch. I spent my life looking at people’s remains. But it was always with an eye to imagining what they were like when they were living. Not what they wore or ate or lived in so much, but what they believed and dreamed about. The human imagination is so interesting and powerful. It takes us well beyond what we can know. It can, and does, create gods and universes. The mind of a single person can create infinity. That’s what I believed in, the infinite power of the soaring human imagination. What fascinating things people have dreamt of! The greatest mystery, and the thing most people can’t comprehend, myself included, is how that
kind of power can’t survive something as ordinary as death. What a vast treasury of mythology has come from that mystery! It gave me something to do anyway. I had fun. I was loved. Couldn’t ask for more than that.
What a lousy poet I would have made, don’t you think? No angst! You, on the other hand, have had your share of that. Like me, I know you have trouble believing in magic, but we both believed in love. It’s such a gift to offer another person, something to believe in. It’s a gift well within your capability. I don’t know if I would have believed in it myself if not for you, so thank you for that gift. You’re a romantic in the best possible way. You believe in the purity and power of love, in the thing we call “true love.” Because of that, I know you’ll find it again. Your heart is too generous to keep to itself for long.
Just so you don’t go looking or have any further expectations, I’m guessing that by now you’ve found my other notes. I put this letter in a place I thought you wouldn’t look for a while, a place you’d come to only when you’d started living again. I’m rejoicing for you in anticipation of your reading it. So this is my last word to you, unless I’ve been wrong all along and there is something after death after all. Wouldn’t that be a huge joke on me?
Live happy, my darling girl.
Love you so much,
Faith
Chapter Forty-Three
It wasn’t easy to get to the Sky Island, something Lauren was well aware of. But now that it was actually happening, she was elated. Four days into their Australia vacation, she and Cassie boarded a small plane to take them to Guadalcanal. From there, they hired a boat to tiny Sky Island. The day reminded Lauren of many days with Faith, being whisked off to some remote location by local guides who wondered at these two women from America who came all this way to look at a barren mound of earth or a pile of stacked rocks or a cave containing nothing but some charred wood.
As they waited on the dock for the boat to be readied, Cassie pulled her hat on and said, “Now that this vacation’s nearly over, don’t you think we should discuss our next trip?”
Lauren smiled knowingly at her goofy grin. “Your turn to choose.” She reached over to tie the straps under Cassie’s chin.
“I think I’d like to go to Tuscany,” Cassie said decisively, taking Lauren by surprise. “Sample some olive oil. Drink a little Chianti. We could go on one of those foodie tours you mentioned.”
Lauren stared into Cassie’s eyes, noting how they twinkled with affection and generosity. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too, Lauren. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. All I want from life for the rest of my life is to be with you and try to make you happy.”
Feeling overwhelmed, Lauren squeezed Cassie’s hand. She knew she wouldn’t get through this day without a few tears. They climbed into the small motorboat to begin their journey.
While Lauren and Cassie sat on deck wearing life jackets, two shirtless young men of Melanesian descent operated the boat, chatting with one another in their strangely familiar but exotic language. Recognizable English words rose and fell with the wind, interspersed among the Creole-sounding Solomon Islands pidgin. Though most of the residents spoke this tongue, the official language was English, so at least the signs and documents were easy to negotiate. The morning arrangements had gone off without a hitch.
As they sped across a calm sea under a brilliant blue sky, Lauren watched the horizon, waiting expectantly for the appearance of the island. Faith was on her mind more than usual today. Not surprisingly, considering her ashes were in her backpack.
“Are you okay?” Cassie asked.
Lauren nodded. “I’m fine. Feeling happy, as a matter of fact.”
“Good.” Cassie smiled gratefully.
It was true. Her heart was joyful. For a long time, she had been looking backward to find happiness, back to her life with Faith. Now, remarkably, she was looking ahead at a new world of possibility with Cassie, a future full of adventure and fun. She finally understood what Faith had meant when she said every love is different. Lauren’s love of Cassie was unique because Cassie was unique and because she herself wasn’t the same woman who had fallen in love with Faith at the age of twenty-two. So many things were different now. That was a welcome realization because it meant she could embark on a new life with Cassie while still holding Faith in her heart. There was no need to compromise.
One of the guides pointed to a flat-topped mountain emerging from the waves.
Cassie took hold of Lauren’s hand as they both stood to get a better view. The island was a barren volcano jutting steeply out of the ocean. The top of it was ringed in thin gray clouds. Lauren felt herself go cold and shiver. It was like riding into a fairy tale, an improbable story she’d heard many times, seeming always like fiction. It was looking more real, and much bigger, though, as they came speeding toward it.
Mesmerized by the sight, she nearly forgot the task at hand. She roused herself and handed the camera bag to Cassie. “Think book cover,” she instructed.
Cassie nodded and stood with her feet planted firmly, aiming her lens at the island as it grew larger. The weather, like everything else today, was cooperating. That layer of marine clouds around the top of the mountain couldn’t have been more picturesque, just as Lauren had imagined it.
She sat with her notebook and wrote her impressions as they closed in on the fabled island, aware that she was Faith’s recorder in a way she’d never been before.
A dark brown, nearly barren island juts abruptly out of the waves. Sea stacks loom near its shores, covered with black dots—flocks of cormorants. As your eye climbs from sea level into the clouds, the mountain really does appear to touch the sky. No romantic vision is needed to see it as a stairway to heaven…or the sky spirit world, as these people believed. Looking at it from across the waves, you can’t easily dismiss that belief.
She felt Cassie’s steady hand on her shoulder as she jotted down her last thoughts.
That plateau in the clouds was the final resting place of thousands of Pacific Islanders…and one American scientist whose imagination was captivated by it. She was not a believer, but she was a dreamer.
Lauren put her notebook away as the boat drifted up to a shaky wooden pier. One of the guides jumped onto it and the other tossed him a rope. When the boat was securely moored, Cassie and Lauren took their packs and stepped out onto the weathered gray wood of an old dock.
“There’s supposed to be a trail,” Lauren said.
“Yes, yes,” said one of the men. “I’ll show you.”
He led them away from the dock to a nearby trailhead. It was marked with a worn wooden sign that read, “Sky Mountain Trail.”
“You’ll wait here?” Lauren asked the man.
He nodded vigorously.
They started up the rocky dirt path, gently climbing, and were soon out of sight of the boat.
“I hope he understood that,” Cassie said, “or we’ll be stranded here on this deserted island.”
“At least we’ll be together,” Lauren noted.
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “As much as I love you, Lauren, that isn’t my heart’s desire.”
There was only one trail on the island. It led to the top of the mountain over blocky igneous rock. Where the path was faint, there were cairns to point the way. This was one of those trails people hiked for pleasure, for the adventure of mountain climbing. Lauren doubted there were many hikers who knew the incredible story of this place.
She guessed they were following the original trail of the natives, the trail they took while carrying their deceased in dugout canoes. Most ancient trails took the most expedient route unless they were circuitous for superstitious reasons, to confuse evil spirits. This one didn’t seem to be. It switchbacked over the most logical places and climbed steadily toward the goal.
“Do you know the title of the book yet?” Cassie asked, sounding out of breath.
“Emma is proposing ‘Paradise Regained.’ It fits and I like the soun
d of it.”
“That’s very clever, playing off her earlier title.”
“All the stories are about the afterlife, which, in some cultures, means paradise.”
“Like this one.”
“Yes, like this one,” Lauren confirmed. “This story, the story of Sky Island, is going to be the last chapter.”
Cassie stopped walking and looked at Lauren, who also stopped. “The last chapter,” she repeated softly.
Her expression conveyed everything—her understanding, her sympathy, her affection. It was often like this between them. So often, words seemed unnecessary. Lauren slipped an arm around her shoulders and turned her to face back the way they’d come.
The boat dock was now visible some distance below. She could see the two men on shore. They were already too far away to tell what they were doing.
Lauren felt a muted euphoria for having made this trek. She’d never done something like this without Faith. She was inclined to tell herself that Faith’s spirit was here with her, but then she didn’t know what she meant by that. A sense of her. A presence inside. That kind of a spirit, she thought, Faith would believe in.
As they continued walking, Lauren spotted some wood scattered on the rocky hillside. She walked off the trail to get a better look. The gray, splintered wood had evidence of hand carving, gouges made with simple tools.
“I think this is one of the canoes,” she said, feeling a rush of adrenaline.
Cassie came and knelt beside her, running a hand over the curved surface of the weathered wood. “Yes, it must be. I didn’t know we would actually see anything.”
“I wasn’t sure. Sometimes these places have been cleaned out by the scientists studying them. Other times not.”
They returned to the trail and continued. The higher they went, the more canoes and parts of canoes they saw. Cassie stopped often to take photos. It was eerie to be walking through all these old coffins. Lauren assumed they had been tumbled about over the years by rain, wind and falling rocks. Some were completely shattered. Some were nearly whole. They soon gained some assurance that none of them contained human remains, as they had still seen nothing resembling bones among the debris.