It didn’t help that Lauren was blaming herself more and more for her missing daughter. “If only I’d been more understanding,” she said one afternoon when Hazel and Anna and Jewel were having tea together. “Or if I’d taken the office work home to do. If I’d just given Sarah more space, she’d probably still be here now.”
“If you want to play the blame game, maybe I should buy a ticket, too,” Hazel told her. “If I hadn’t come home from my tour when I did, booting poor Sarah out of my cabin, perhaps she’d still be here.”
“Oh, Hazel.” Anna shook her head. “That’s perfectly ridiculous.”
“Or not.” Hazel took a sip of tea. “Having a place to come home to is very important—especially to young people.”
“That’s true,” Jewel agreed sadly. “I hate to admit it, but I worry a lot . . . that Sarah is going to come home and want her room back. Then I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You’ll come live with me,” Lauren assured her. “There’s plenty of room at Babette’s house, and I’d love to have you.”
“And the new cabins are nearly done,” Anna told them. “Really, we’ll have no lack of space. And with the season drawing to an end, we’ll have even more room. So, please, let’s all stop blaming ourselves for Sarah’s choices. It’s a waste of time and energy. Instead of fretting over her, we should be praying for her and sending her positive thoughts, hoping that she’ll remember the river . . . and us.”
They assured Anna that they were doing this, and then Lauren cleared her throat. “While I have you together like this, I have an announcement to make.”
Anna turned to look at her daughter, feeling almost surprised to see that Lauren’s blond hair was now streaked with gray and that she had slight wrinkles fanning around her eyes. How was this possible?
“I’ve registered for classes,” she told them.
“Classes?” Anna was confused.
Lauren looked at Hazel who nodded as if she was in on this. “Hazel has been encouraging me to continue my education for several years now. So I finally applied at a business college last spring. I didn’t really know if I’d actually want to go, especially at my age, but there seemed no harm in applying. Then when I was accepted, I wasn’t so sure. So I didn’t say anything. But after all that’s happened with Sarah, well, it seemed like a good idea for me to be gone. In case she returns. I think it will simplify things for everyone if I moved on.”
“Moved on?” Anna felt alarmed.
“Classes start in mid-September,” Lauren explained. “I plan to do a full year.”
“But who will help me with the business?” Although Anna knew that she could easily take it over again, especially this time of year when it slowed down, she had loved having Lauren’s help. And Lauren had been so good at it.
“I’ve been training Diane,” Lauren told her. “She’s a natural, and I think she can handle it. She really wants this opportunity, Mom.”
“But Lauren, I rely on you for so—”
“I think this is wonderful news,” Hazel told Anna in a firm tone. “Lauren is an intelligent woman. It will be good for her to continue her education. Don’t you think?”
Anna didn’t know what to think. It was hard enough to lose Sarah, but now Lauren, too. It seemed so unfair. And yet she knew Hazel was right. This was a big opportunity for Lauren. It was wrong to hold her back. Anna made a weak smile. “I think it sounds like a very wise plan, Lauren.”
Lauren let out a relieved sigh. “Really?”
“Yes. I’m proud of you for doing this.”
Lauren made a nervous smile. “Can you imagine me, a middle-aged woman, going back to school with a bunch of kids my daughter’s age?”
“Or Jewel’s age.” Hazel nodded to Jewel. “And what about you, dear? Do you ever want to further your education?”
Jewel shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems like an impossible dream to me.”
“Speaking of impossible dreams . . .” Hazel looked at Anna. “I have a dream, too.” Her pale eyes sparked unexpectedly, as if she were truly excited. “I want to create a Shining Waters scholarship fund.” Now she started to describe how she wanted to set up an account that Anna would manage for her. “To help out inn workers who want to attend college but lack funds. Do you think that’s something that would interest you, Anna, as their employer? Do you feel you could help me with it?”
“It’s a lovely idea, Hazel.” Anna nodded. “I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
Hazel pointed to Jewel. “And perhaps you’ll want to apply for it, too.” She looked back at Anna. “And, of course, Sarah would benefit from it . . . when she comes home.”
Shortly after Labor Day, Anna and Hazel worked together with a lawyer to change Hazel’s will as well as to create the Shining Waters Scholarship Fund. Then, just one week later, Lauren set off to college.
“One thing you can count on around here,” Clark said as they were having coffee on the upper deck, “is it’s always changing.”
“And yet some things stay the same.” Anna looked out over the river and sighed. “For that I’m very thankful.”
“Jewel has expressed interest in working at the store when it’s finished,” Clark told her. “I said she should speak to you about it, but I expect it to be ready to open by next week.”
“I think that’s a great idea. Working at the store might help her confidence. She seems so unsure of herself, and I know she can do more than just housekeeping. Not that there’s anything wrong with housekeeping. I certainly did it for many years.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with your confidence,” Clark said with a twinkle in his eye.
“But if Jewel takes on a new challenge and succeeds at it . . . maybe she’ll want to take advantage of your mother’s scholarship fund.”
“You mean Shining Waters Scholarship Fund,” he corrected.
She nodded. “You’re right.” Hazel had corrected her on this very thing more than once. “It’s so generous of her to do this.”
“She was a little concerned that Marshall and I would feel cut out of her will.” Clark laughed. “I told her that we’re both doing just fine and not to worry.”
Later that morning, Anna stopped by Hazel’s cabin and was surprised to see that Hazel was in bed. “Are you unwell?” Anna asked as she pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Just worn out is all.”
Anna reached for Hazel’s hand. “Your heart?”
Hazel just slowly closed her eyes, but Anna knew that meant yes.
“Should I get Clark to call the doctor or the hospital?”
“No.” Hazel opened her eyes. “Not this time, Anna.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to go . . . like that.”
“Go . . . ?” Anna felt a jolt of panic but tried to keep her face calm.
“I had a dream . . . last night.” She paused to catch her breath.
“Do you need some water?” Anna asked.
Hazel just nodded, and Anna hurried to the kitchen then, returning with a glass of water, waited as Hazel took some slow sips.
“My dream,” Hazel began again, handing the glass back to Anna. “It’s preparing me to go.”
“What do you mean?” Anna felt a lump in her throat as she sat down again.
“I was walking alongside a river of gold . . . sparkling gold . . . and it was so peaceful . . . so beautiful.” She sighed. “I think it was heaven. God is preparing me to go home.”
Anna tried to hide her sadness.
Hazel looked into Anna’s eyes. “First I want to thank you, Anna.”
“Thank me for what?”
“For allowing me to share this special place with you . . . for letting me be part of your life . . . for how you help others to forgive . . . and your healing touch . . . for showing us how to live in peace . . . thank you.”
Anna didn’t know what to say.
“You’ve given many of us a home, Anna. Sometimes for a few days .
. . sometimes for many more. You’ve created a place that feels like a small portion of the heavenly home that awaits us. For that, I thank you.”
Anna took Hazel’s hand again, gently squeezing it. “Then I must thank you, too, Hazel.”
Hazel looked surprised. “What for?”
“For coming here and befriending me. It was a very fragile time in my life . . . that day I met you on the river. I had no idea that you held so many keys.”
“Keys?” Hazel’s brows arched with interest. “The key to my grandmother’s stories, the key to my past, the key to my future.”
Hazel waved a tired hand. “Oh, you’re wrong about that. You already had those keys. All you had to do was to follow your heritage.”
“But you helped me see my heritage.”
“It was already in you, Anna.”
Anna shook her head. “Maybe it was there. But it was locked up. You had the key, Hazel. I thank you for that.” Now she smiled. “Not only that, but you brought Clark into my world . . . how could I ever thank you enough for that?”
Hazel’s eyes lit up. “Clark needed you, Anna. I’m just thankful I happened by at the right time to find you.”
“So am I.” Anna clasped her other hand around Hazel’s cool one, warming it between her own. “Sometimes I imagine that it was my grandmother who called you to the river. She was the one who arranged our meeting that day when I was in my canoe and you were exploring,” she confessed quietly, “because Grandma Pearl knew how much I needed you.”
Hazel’s pale lips curled into a knowing smile . . . as if she’d had this very same thought . . . as if she knew, as Anna knew, their lives had always been meant to be linked. She wondered if Hazel and Grandma Pearl were soon to be linked as well. Anna believed in the goodness of heaven and the afterlife, but she was not ready to say good-bye to this dear friend yet. And she knew Clark wasn’t either.
17
It was early October, one of those flawless autumn afternoons when the river ran blue as topaz and the sunlight felt rich and pure, and Anna was carrying a fragrant basket of Northern Spy apples to Hazel’s cabin with the plan of peeling and paring them into pie filling for tonight’s dessert. But Hazel, who had been surprisingly energetic these past few days, now appeared to be sleeping. Leaned back in the old wicker rocker in front of her cabin, a well-worn and faded quilt draped over her lap, one sewn by Anna’s mother and dear friend Babette, Hazel looked perfectly peaceful . . . and still. Very, very still.
Anna set the basket on the porch step and touched Hazel’s pale cheek to find that it was cold . . . and she knew . . . Hazel was gone. Pulling a straight-backed chair next to the rocker with a loud scrape, Anna eased herself into it, bent over, placing her head in her hands, and quietly wept. This was how Clark found her . . . found them. Being Clark and a natural caretaker, he gathered Anna in his arms then walked her back to the house and to their room.
As she lay on the bed, still crying softly, she could hear him using the phone in the office, calling someone in town, making arrangements. Thankful for his strength, Anna allowed her tears to flow. She knew that death was simply a part of life . . . and that Hazel had lived a good one . . . but it was still hard to say good-bye. It always had been. Perhaps even more so as Anna felt the years accumulating in her own life . . . her own mortality looming nearer with each passing year. These were the times when Anna drew near to God . . . and when she felt him drawing near to her.
Clark was no longer in the house when Anna rose from her bed and washed her face with cool water. She smoothed her graying hair back into the French twist she’d made this morning then went outside just in time to see Greeley’s delivery boat slipping into their dock. Johnny Johnson’s boat was already docked there, and Anna suspected that Clark had called him to help. Johnny had become something of a regular at Shining Waters, and Clark and he were forging what seemed like a solid friendship. Anna watched from the stairs as Bobby Greeley and another young man were met by Clark and Johnny, and together, the four of them removed a simple pine box, unloading it onto the dock.
Blinking back fresh tears, Anna turned and went back into the house, and, closing the door, she noticed the basket of Northern Spies on the dining room table. Clark must’ve brought it in. She carried the basket into the kitchen where she stood by the sink and began to peel an apple. She was just finishing the last one when Jewel came in.
“I heard the news,” Jewel said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Anna nodded. “We’ll all miss her.”
“Clark asked me to tell you that he went into town . . . with her.” Jewel’s eyes were filled with tears, and Anna set down the half-peeled apple then wrapped her arms around the girl.
“Hazel was a very good woman,” Anna said quietly. “She lived a very good life.”
“I know,” Jewel sobbed. “But I just wanted more time with her—you know—to get to know her better.”
“I know.” Anna nodded. “So did I.”
Jewel helped Hazel to make the pie filling. Enough for several pies. As Anna rolled out the dough, she remembered the recently created scholarship fund and decided to mention it to Jewel, reminding her of Hazel’s firm conviction that higher education was important. “Not simply for career opportunities, but for quality of life,” she said as she slipped a round of dough onto a pie tin. “And she hoped that you’d be one of the recipients,” she told her. “Someday . . . when you’re ready for it. Don’t forget that, Jewel.”
“Did you go to college?”
Anna sighed. “I started to . . . but marriage . . . life . . . interrupted.”
“Do you wish you’d finished it?”
“I used to. But not now. I feel like I’ve continued my learning in other ways. Studying my heritage—thanks to Hazel—and learning how to run this inn . . . well, that’s been an education in itself.” Anna looked at the clock on the stove. “Speaking of education, I think Lauren will be out of her classes by now. If you can finish this for me, I’ll call her to tell her about Hazel.”
As expected, Lauren was upset by the sad news. Anna tried to console her, reassuring her as she had with Jewel, that Hazel had lived a good life. “And on her own terms too, Lauren. Back in her day it was very unusual to be a single mom with a successful career.”
“I remember when she told me I could do it, too,” Lauren said sadly. “Back when I was pregnant with Sarah. If only I’d listened to her then.”
“What’s important is that you’re listening now.” Anna forced brightness into her voice. “Hazel was so proud of you for going back to school, Lauren. I think you were the inspiration behind her scholarship fund. And you know how happy that made her.”
They talked a while longer, and Anna promised to call back with details of the funeral arrangements. “I’m guessing we’ll have a service during the weekend . . . so that Marshall and Joanna can come.”
“I wish Sarah could—” Lauren’s voice broke.
“So do I.”
“I just keep blaming myself,” Lauren confessed, “for everything.”
“Blaming yourself for everything? Whatever for?”
“If only I’d handled things differently with Sarah, Mom, she never would’ve have run away. Not the first time and not the last time.” She sighed. “Believe me I’ve had time to think about her. And I know that if Sarah hadn’t left, there would’ve been less stress on everyone—including you and Clark. And I know that Hazel felt really bad about Sarah taking off like that. Remember how she even blamed herself, thinking that if she hadn’t come home and Sarah could’ve kept living in her cabin—and Hazel’s health seemed to go downhill right at that time. So it only makes sense. All this sadness and loss is all thanks to me. If I’d just been a better mom, a better person, things would be different now.”
“Oh, Lauren.” Anna didn’t know what to say. On some levels, this made sense, but it wasn’t healthy for Lauren to obsess over it. “I think it’s good to look at your choices and realize that you made some mis
takes. But instead of beating yourself up, you need to simply learn from the mistakes and determine not to make them again. And I believe you’re doing that. You’re on a good path, Lauren. Focus on that.”
“I’m trying to, Mom. But I just keep thinking there must be something I’m missing . . . something I can do to fix this.”
“To fix what?”
“I mean with Sarah. And I’ve got an idea.” Now Lauren told of her plan to use her weekends to search for Sarah. “If you can send me your lists and your map, I can take over where you left off, Mom.”
“But what about your studies?”
“I do my homework in the evenings,” Lauren explained. “My weekends are long and boring.”
“Then come home,” Anna urged, “you know you’re welcome here. Jewel is staying at Babette’s house, and I know she’d love your company.”
“I’d rather spend my time looking for Sarah.” There was a firmness in her voice that told Anna she wasn’t going to back down. “It would help if I could have your information.”
“I’ll send it to you tomorrow,” Anna promised.
“And you don’t mind?”
Anna sighed. “Not at all. As long as it doesn’t interfere with your classes.”
“Knowing that I’m doing everything I can to find her might help me focus on my classes, Mom. It might help alleviate some of this guilt.”
“Forgiving yourself would help even more,” Anna reminded her. “And remembering that God has forgiven you.”
“I know, I know.” Her tone grew impatient. “But until I get Sarah’s forgiveness . . . I’m not sure I can forgive myself or that it would matter.”
Anna wanted to tell her that it did matter, but somehow she knew Lauren wouldn’t hear this at the present. “We’ll get back to you about Hazel’s service as soon as we know more,” Anna said before they hung up. “I love you, Lauren.”
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