The clergyman paused to look at the assembled crowd before continuing. Sunlight, reflected off the choppy water, illuminated their thoughtful faces. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries carried off by the wind.
“As we celebrate Willie Candler’s passing let us hear the words from second Timothy, 4:6 through 4:8. For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Friends, Willie lived a full life. He finished his course, which was to enrich the lives of those less fortunate and strive to be a good Christian. In doing so, he kept the faith.
“Furthermore, let us see the reality and the truth in the second Corinthians, 5:16 and 5:17; Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh; yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more. Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold all things are become new. You see, death is not the end, neighbors. It is the beginning of a new journey. It is a time for those of us on Earth to remember, to honor, to accept, and to be joyful. With that in mind, we shall carry the spirit of Willie to others through our own actions.”
Pastor Mullins breathed deeply and could taste the salt air when he swallowed. It was cleansing, invigorating. God had given them a perfect day.
“And finally, let me leave you with this thought from Ecclesiastes, 12:7 before we partake in scattering the ashes. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. Let us each pray in silence for a moment.” The pastor and the seniors remained silent, lost in their individual thoughts and prayers until he said, ‘Amen.’
“Amen,” they echoed.
Sherwood retrieved Willie’s urn and handed it to the pastor. It was time to scatter the ashes.
“Who’s going to do it?” Ethyl asked him. That detail had apparently not been planned out in advance.
“I can, or one of your group can. What do you prefer?” The pastor looked at Willie’s attorney. Wilson Lloyd Brandon shrugged his shoulders. Totally unhelpful. He had dressed in his usual attire -- a double-breasted suit over a starched shirt, and he wished he’d worn something more casual. He wasn’t much for sand or the ocean, but was overwhelmed with a desire to feel the briny air against his skin.
“Let’s all do it,” Nell said, stepping in as official counselor. “We can pass the urn from person to person.” Pastor Mullins thoughtfully nodded his agreement. It was a first for him, but he was sure that Willie wouldn’t have minded. It was different, but then so was Willie Candler.
Maggie clucked her dentures. “What do we do? Just reach in a grab a handful?”
“Well, typically the urn is just tilted until all the ashes have come out,” the pastor answered.
“But what if he runs out?” Gretta called in her Northern twang from the back of the group. The pastor looked perplexed. She peered at him through the thick, round bifocals. For the second time in two days, the iPhone was nowhere in sight.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be fair!” Mabel noted. “We should all equally share in scattering the ashes.”
“You mean there might not be enough of Willie to go around?” Smith asked in good humor.
“Hmmm.” Perplexed, Pastor Mullins mentally calculated how the ashes could be divided. He knew that the average adult person’s ashes filled the average urn about two-thirds of the way full. He had a group of forty-five, plus their guide, bus driver, doctor friend, maintenance man and attorney. And they all wanted to honor Willie by scattering some of his cremains. God was challenging him, he just knew it. He tried thinking of the ashes as sugar, and figured how many spoonfulls of sugar were in his sugar bowl at home. The ashes would probably fill two sugar bowls. He loved his coffee sweet. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a spoon handy and wasn’t sure if he should send someone below deck to get one.
“This is an unusual situation,” he finally said, silently calling to God for guidance.
“It’s not so difficult,” Smith said. “Let’s just figure a way that we each get an equal amount of ashes to throw.”
“Scatter, Darling,” said Mrs. Storrey.
Ethyl produced a stainless steel spoon from the depths of her fanny pack and waved it in the air. Apparently she never left home without a set of flatware.
“How about this?” It was as though she’d read the pastor’s thoughts of measuring sugar. “We can each scatter a spoonful. Then Pastor Mullins can scatter whatever remains in the urn?”
“That would be fine,” the pastor answered with relief. “It’s not the method that is important, but rather the significance of the actions.” This has got to be the most unique service I’ve ever held. They lined up along the Ocean Annie’s port side to take advantage of the wind direction, with Sherwood at the beginning of their formation and Freddy at the end. As Sherwood waited for the spoon, she wondered once again about the man who used to be one of her residents. The urn was heavy in her hands and the metal felt cool to the touch. She felt certain that Willie would have approved of the way they were handling his unexpected death.
“Here’s to Willie Candler,” she said. “A man that none of us really knew, but a man that we will never, ever forget.” She tossed a spoonful of ashes into the ocean. A breeze picked them up briefly then laid them gently on the surface. They danced momentarily atop the sparkling water before disappearing into its depths. Sherwood passed the urn and spoon to Mrs. Storrey.
“Good-bye, Willie,” Mrs. Storrey said softly and passed the urn carefully into Smith’s hands.
“Thank you, Willie. For reminding me how precious life and love can be.” Smith kissed Sylvia before scattering a spoonful.
Slowly, the urn progressed its way through the senior’s hands as each said a private good-bye to Willie and scattered some ashes.
The urn reached Burt. Just as he threw his spoonful of ashes, a gust of wind swirled up and blew them right back. The cremains landed on Burt and settled in his hair, ears, and clothes. He blinked to clear his eyes.
“The prankster has been pranked!” Jack bent over laughing. “He got you Burt.”
Smith joined in. “Guess you’ll have to go for a swim now, Burt.”
“If I go overboard, Smith, I’m taking you with me.” Brushing himself off, Burt wondered if Willie had ever been a prankster. Wiping an eye, Burt decided that the unknown man had pulled a practical joke or two during his lifetime. They probably would have been terrific friends, had they gotten to know each other.
Ten minutes after the procession began, the urn rested in Freddy’s hands. He said a silent farewell to Willie, dropped a spoonful of ashes into the water, and thanked God for bringing him and Sherwood together. He carried the urn back to the pastor and then found Sherwood’s side.
Pastor Mullins noted with satisfaction that his calculations had been correct—there had been enough ashes for everyone to participate. He pulled the plastic liner that held the remaining ashes out of the urn and tilted it over the water until it emptied.
He turned to face the group with an easy smile.
“As you look at your reflection in the water, remember how Willie’s goodness was reflected in his earthly nature. And how his memory will reflect upon all of you. And finally, realize that now, Willie’s spirit is enjoying the goodness of the Lord in God’s presence.”
“Yes,” Sherwood murmured. Her eyes were damp. She wished they had all gotten to know Willie before his death. But she also felt very good about what the group had accomplished during the short time since Willie’s death. Looking around, she saw the same sentiments on other, much older and wiser faces. The forty-five of them had become a tight-knit group. She felt close to them, protective even. Freddy grabbed her hand and squeezed. He had come to feel the same way about their Great Wingers.
“Look!” Mrs. Storrey pointed to the ocean.
“How extraordinary!” Doc Norman said.
Three dolphins swam playfully alongside the
Ocean Annie, performing effortless jumps one after the other. The assembly watched with delight as the animals circled the slow-moving boat, then played in its wake for a minute before vanishing. Pastor Mullins, still holding the cast bronze urn encircled by three shiny brass dolphins, was awed. He couldn’t stop smiling. God worked in mysterious ways, indeed.
Twenty-eight
Heading North on Interstate 77
Tuesday morning
Happily exhausted, Sherwood reclined her seat to get more comfortable. So much had happened in the whirlwind of a week, and now she wondered if she would be offered the activity director’s job. She wanted it even more than before. When she’d first knocked on Jane Sullivan’s door, she was simply answering an ad because she needed money. But now, she really wanted the job. She thoroughly enjoyed the senior citizens and knew she could do a great job keeping them busy with outings and activities. She just needed to be given the chance.
Next to her, Ethyl was asleep behind the black eye mask. She wore a cotton tee shirt she’d purchased at a beachwear store that stated, ‘Not Over the Hill… Just Enjoying the Top’ above a cartoon of a grandmother on in-line skates.
Surveying her residents around her, Sherwood knew that their lives had all been touched during the past week. Willie had died, but somehow she knew that it was his time to go and that God had a purpose for him. Smith and Mrs. Storrey had fallen in love, and somehow that was meant to happen, too. Gus had unveiled happier side of his normally grumpy self, and Maggie had finally caught the old codger’s attention. Perhaps that was inevitable as well.
Best of all, Sherwood had discovered Freddy. Remembering their time together on the floor of the beach cabana, Sherwood’s stomach jumped with a rush of adrenaline and a shiver ran the length of her body. Behind the wheel of the bus once again, Freddy caught her eye in the rearview mirror and she wondered if his thoughts were in the same place as hers. She couldn’t imagine being any happier and settled in for what she hoped would be an uneventful ride home.
Grinning, she thought of getting the Great Wingers and all of their stuff onto the bus. Their luggage, in one week’s time, had spontaneously reproduced. It took Freddy and the desk clerk over an hour to load luggage, shopping bags, cardboard boxes, two wooden Adirondack chairs, and a miniature palm tree into the belly of the motorcoach. Everyone, with the exception of Ethyl, had purchased loads of souvenirs.
Watching the highway streak by through her window, Sherwood decided that the trip had passed much too quickly. Thoughts of the seniors, Freddy and her potential future with Great Wings spun in her head like ingredients in a food processor. She couldn’t quite sort things out, but she reclined her seat to relax. Maybe she’d actually get some rest. Just as her thoughts meshed into the surreal world of deep REM sleep, a scream made her jump awake.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Aaahhh,” Ethyl screamed again. Her foot was stretched into the aisle of the coach and she was wildly shaking it. Something was clamped to her pinkie toe, which protruded through a pair of Birkenstocks. Suddenly she shook it loose. Whatever the thing was, it flew over Ethyl’s shoulder and landed three seats back in Burt’s lap.
“A hermit crab?” Burt snatched the creature from his lap, where it landed on its claws. “What the hell?”
Ruth screamed next and kicked something down the aisle.
“Oh, no!” Mabel drawled. “They’re loose.”
“Who is loose?” Sherwood said.
“The hermit crabs!” Gretta scanned the floor of the bus. “We had a coupon for a free hermit crab at the beachwear store. So we got more coupon books, and cut out forty-five of them so we could get a free crab for everybody. You know, kind of like the moon pies. You have to get one for everybody, don’t you know.”
Freddy glanced in his mirror to see what was transpiring behind him as they cruised down the highway. Something was apparently loose on his bus. It was definitely time for a pit stop. Sherwood had made her way to Mabel and Gretta’s seats and stood in the aisle, speechless. Freddy began looking for a suitable exit.
“Yeah,” Mabel explained. “The guy in the shop tried to give us a hard time. But when it comes to coupons, I know what I’m talking about. It didn’t have any kind of a required purchase or a limit. No disclaimers at all. So Gretta explained how she would be happy to leave and re-enter the store forty-five times, if that’s what the manager preferred. And how she’d report him to the Better Business Bureau for false advertising. Finally the guy gave us the whole cage-full to get us out of there.”
Still not exactly sure what she was seeing, Sherwood glanced down and noticed several golf ball sized shells slowly moving along the floor of the bus. Two of them crept towards her in slight, jerky movements. They were hermit crabs, all right.
Sherwood was incredulous. “Seriously? What are you going to do with forty-five hermit crabs?”
“We thought it would be fun to keep them at the clubhouse in our recreation room when we get back. You know, as pets,” Gretta said. “I don’t think they eat much.”
“Good idea, ladies,” Smith said. “We can race them.”
He scooped one up and examined it. “This one here looks like a zippy one. Sylvia and I will take him.”
Another startled yelp came from the back of the bus and two residents stood up and peered intently at the floor.
Sherwood clicked the microphone on and addressed her group. “Everyone, can I have your attention please? It seems that we have among us some hermit crabs that have gotten out of their cage. Don’t be alarmed. If you see one, please pick it up and I’ll come around with...a box or something to collect them.”
“Hey, this one’s really moving!” Burt said. “I’ll race him against yours, Smith. Bet you a five-spot on the outcome.”
Ethyl dug through her fanny pack for some first aid cream. Her toe still stung, but the skin hadn’t been broken. Re-thinking her initial reaction, she decided to get into the spirit of the moment.
“Hey, Burt, let me have that one back,” she said. “I’m going to keep it.”
“You threw it at me!”
“I did not,” Ethyl argued. “I simply removed it from my foot. Him. Edgar. Besides, he bit my toe, not yours. Let me have him.”
Burt scratched his head. “Edgar?”
“Yes, Edgar.”
“You gave the crustacean a name?”
Defiant, Ethyl nodded above her inflatable neck pillow.
“Fine.” Giving in, Burt passed the crab back to Ethyl. She promptly painted her initials on its shell with some pink nail polish, then dropped it into the wire cage Sherwood had found in the galley. Soon, all crabs were adopted and branded with nail polish, fountain pens, and in one case—some White-out. Shaken by their adventure, the crabs nestled together into one giant clump of shells. Sherwood made sure to refill their little water pan before securing the cage door with a piece of twine torn from a shopping bag handle.
She had just returned to her seat and was about to recline when Ethyl reached across the aisle to retrieve a napkin from a seatback.
“Hey!” Ruth glared at Ethyl as if she’d just swiped a gold necklace. “That’s my souvenir you’re blowing your nose in!”
She grabbed for the memento then changed her mind in mid-reach. Ethyl had already blown. It was a Pirate’s Voyage napkin for Ruth’s scrapbook, and now it was snotty and crinkled.
“It’s just a dumb napkin,” Ethyl said. “Anyway, you can have my Pirate Voyage souvenir placemat if you want.”
Frowning, Ruth eyed the damp, wadded up souvenir napkin but agreed to Ethyl’s deal.
Realizing that an uneventful drive home was out of the question, Sherwood popped a couple of aspirin powders from Ethyl’s first aid kit and washed them down with one of Maggie’s root beers. Then she munched one of Mabel and Gretta’s leftover chocolate Moon Pies to eliminate the aspirin taste from the back of her tongue.
They had a long trip ahead of them and the natives were already getting restless. S
he felt the bus slowing and spotted the elevated billboard of a highway truck stop. Freddy winked at her in the rearview mirror and her heart melted. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and his heart gave a little flutter. He couldn’t wait for the two of them to be alone together again. As he navigated the lumbering motorcoach into the exit lane and searched for a good parking spot, he was already planning where he would take her for dinner and what he was going to wear when he proposed to her.
Twenty-nine
Great Wings Retirement Community
Director’s office
The girl standing in her doorway was a different Sherwood. More knowing, more mature maybe. The air of desperation about landing a job was absent.
“Well hello, young lady. You’ve had quite an eventful week,” Jane Sullivan said.
That’s the understatement of the year, Sherwood thought, sitting down. She had resigned herself to accept her fate with Great Wings regardless of what it was. All she knew for certain is that she had learned a lot in a short amount of time. Cramming was the term that came to mind, like when she used to pull an all-nighter for a political science final exam during college. But, it wasn’t just rote learning now. Somehow she felt… wiser. Plus she had Freddy. She was in love, and even losing her new job wouldn’t be that awful. But she kept her fingers crossed. She wanted it all. The guy and the job.
Jane studied her newest employee. She’d already received half a dozen unsolicited reports on the girl from her residents. She had also spoken with Willie’s attorney as well as the bus driver regarding Sherwood. All information had been positive. Sherwood had apparently handled everything the week threw at her with efficiency and grace. Jane’s intention was to offer the college graduate a full time position, but first she needed to know if Sherwood really wanted the job.
When Sherwood had appeared in her doorway barely over two weeks ago, she’d been wearing the too-big suit and a nervous stance. Now, she could’ve been mistaken for a different person. The slick black hair and green eyes remained the same. But now she sported a slight sunburn along with an air of confidence. And, she was somehow…radiant. She looked crisp and comfortable in a pair of navy cotton twill shorts, long-sleeve golf shirt, and leather loafers.
Mayhem in Myrtle Beach Page 18