At Witt's End (27 page)

The pair followed the rainbow's arc toward the shore, commenting on the ripples rising off the bright colors. A few more droplets fell as the clouds returned to their pre-tempest buoyancy.

Sadie put her arm around Aanders and hugged him to her side. “You did it. I'm so proud of you. By setting your sorrow aside and making sure Tim made it through the light, you earned your rainbow at midnight."

Hues of color danced around them. “I'm glad he's with his mom and dad,” Aanders said. “He really missed them.” He cocked his head toward his left shoulder and gazed questioningly at Sadie. “Did you notice Lora didn't go with Tim and Mr. Bakke? Do you think she decided to go to the parallel world to find her son?"

"Let's hope so. Let's hope she's got the sense to do that."

Aanders held his hand out. “It stopped raining."

"They've quit crying,” Sadie said. She pointed toward the sky. “Look at that glow from the rainbow and then look at that billowy cloud behind the rainbow. That's called a cloud of crossers.” She watched Aanders look back and forth over the horizon. “It's full of crossers lost. When you see billowy clouds during a rain storm, it's the crossers lost crying for the future they never realized. Tonight they were crying tears of joy."

"It's always cause to celebrate when a new death coach earns their rainbow,” Sadie said. “For all we know, you're the youngest death coach ever chosen. I'm sure the crossers lost are pleased with the sacrifice you made.” Lifting his hand off the bench, she cradled it to her cheek. “A new journey begins tonight. Do you think you're ready ?"

"No. But Tim and I talked about it. I'm going to do what he asked me to do.” Aanders’ gaze fell upon the lake. “Sometimes Tim was so smart, it was scary. He told me it'd be easier for me if I always pretended he was walking beside me."

"He's right, you know,” Sadie said.

Aanders sighed deeply. “That's what's so scary."

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Sadie hurried up onto the porch, opened the door and waved the newspaper at Jane, who sat lost in concentration at the kitchen table. Nan had asked Jane to prepare an obituary for Mr. Bakke. Jane sighed with exasperation, wiped the eraser back and forth over her last sentence. Struggling to find the proper wording, Jane had queried Sadie several times before Sadie walked over to the lodge to buy a newspaper.

Mr. Bakke had spent the last fifty years of his life as handyman and caretaker at the Witt's End Resort. Vina, the twins’ mother, had hired him when he was a young man. He never realized the desire to seek alternative employment. Taking a leave from the resort, he had served four years in the Army with the knowledge his position would remain open until his return.

Vina had treated the shy, unremarkable little man as a son. When Vina passed away, Mr. Bakke pitched in with unwavering vigor to make sure the twin's transition to resort owners went as smooth as possible.

"I've never seen such a buzz over the headlines. People stood five deep at the counter buying copies of today's paper,” Sadie said. The screen door slammed behind her. A muffled bark caused her to retreat and swing the door open to let Belly in. The dog sauntered over to Mr. Bakke's chair and sniffed vigorously before looking toward the kitchen table.

Jane dabbed a tear with the edge of her napkin before rising and walking to Mr. Bakke's chair. Squatting down to pet the dog, she whispered, “You miss him too, don't you fella?” She pressed her cheek against the chair and cried softly. “What am I going to do, Sadie? I feel so empty. He was part of our lives for so many years I can't remember what it was like without him."

Sadie knelt next to her sister. “He's watching you, you know. He knows how you feel. He told me to take care of you. He told me that as he was going through the light."

"You?” Jane laughed. “He must have lost his mind when he hit his head.” The conflicting emotions made Jane cry even harder.

"He told me to throw your clothes away and take you shopping,” Sadie said. “He insisted I buy you a thong."

"Now I know you're pulling my leg."

"It was worth a try,” Sadie said. After helping her sister into her chair, Sadie listened while Jane read through the obituary, pausing from time to time to sniffle and wipe her nose.

"Because he didn't have any family, Nan asked me to make decisions. I've got most of the stuff picked out for the funeral,” Jane said. “I think he'll be happy with what I've selected."

"Of course he will. He worshipped you. His goal in life was to make you happy."

"He didn't take a shine to me until he realized you had no intention of going out with him,” Jane said. “It took him a year to get over your rejection. Poor man. He hardly came out of his cabin for a month."

"But that was forty years ago,” Sadie said. “If you hadn't catered to him back then and made a fool of yourself drooling on his doorstep, he'd have eventually come around and asked you for a date on his own."

"I doubt it,” Jane said. “You totally deflated his ego. But once he got to know me, he realized I was the better catch."

"Bull,” Sadie responded. “He just settled for less. And besides, he was too horny for me. All he talked about was sex."

"Not to me,” Jane said with a huff. “That's because he realized I was pure and worth taking time to get to know."

Sadie's red glitter glasses slid down her nose as she lowered her head and scrutinized Jane. “You need to see a psychiatrist. You've lost your grip on reality.” Sadie spread the newspaper over the table.

The headlines read
Local Business Man Indicted on Murder Charges.
“Look at that,” Sadie said, slapping the front page with the back of her hand. “That rat Carl took all the credit."

"That's what you agreed to, wasn't it?"

"It was. But you'd think Carl could have mentioned my name in there somewhere."

"I think you're going to have to settle for the fact Carl dropped the lawsuit. He exchanged the lawsuit for your silence."

"That just frosts me,” Sadie said. “I did all the ground work, but he became the hero."

"I'm surprised he was willing to take a chance that people wouldn't find out about his business dealings with Paul."

"Unfortunately, I have to agree with him. If they haven't discovered the information by now, they're not going to find it. I'd still like to see him hang by those itty bitty balls for all the grief he caused Mrs. Fading Sun when her husband was arrested. Those diversity crusaders would love that tidbit of information."

"You've always got that to fall back on,” Jane said.

"You should have seen Carl's face when I told him that very thing. What goes around comes back to bite you. But in Carl's situation, his prejudice ended up slapping him across the face. If Mrs. Fading Sun hadn't mentioned the policy, I would never have put two and two together. At least it will keep Carl in line until the next crisis.” Sadie bit at the inside of her cheek. “If he wins the election, it'll give him power. And power makes him crazy. That's when he'll cook up another scheme to get his hands on this resort."

Jane nodded in agreement. “I'm afraid you're right. Everyone knows he needs money. His wife goes through money like water. You can tell she thought their wedding vows said for better or for purse.” Jane forced a smile. “At least we have the satisfaction that Paul will never see daylight again. Lon said Paul will probably get three life terms for murdering the Fossums. With everybody concentrating on the trial, it gives us time to get things in order. If Nan can come up with enough money to buy the mortuary and the acreage it sits on, that'll be one less thing for Carl to get his hands on."

"Is that hole in your head getting bigger?” Sadie asked, frowning at Jane's lack of comprehension. “Weren't you listening when Nan told us there's no way she's going to get a loan? The bank turned her down flat. That's why she was ready to accept Paul's proposal."

"That poor woman.” Shaking her head Jane said, “She's so embarrassed she couldn't even look me in the eye when we were picking out Mr. Bakke's urn. I told her no one blamed her for what Paul did. It's going to be a tough road until the gossip dies down."

"I heard Carl tell her the same thing after he questioned her. I think he was trying to cover his own ass by seeing if Nan knew anything about his relationship with Paul."

Jane set her jaw and rapped her fist against the table top. “He was worried about his own hide so he faked his concern about Nan. That man makes me so mad I'd like to kick him all the way to Tubuktim."

"You mean Timbuktu,” Sadie corrected.

"No, I don't,” Jane said, glaring at her sister.

Drumming her fingers against the table, Sadie decided not to educate her sister in the finer points of geography and opted instead to help Jane with her project. Pushing a scissors across the table, Sadie said, “There's an article about Mr. Bakke's accident on page three. You might want to cut it out and add it to your scrapbook."

Tears flowed once again. Jane reached for the wadded-up napkin as she read the article. “That's so nice of them to mention he was a well-respected member of our resort staff. If they only knew how important he was.” She slid the scissors across the top of the article. “What would we have done without him?"

Sadie held the scrap book open so Jane could insert the article between two vinyl sheets.

Jane stood and retrieved a faded box from a shelf in the book case. “I went through mother's trunk this morning and found her old memento box. I remembered seeing her scrapbooks in there after she died. I was hoping to find something about Mr. Bakke's discharge from the Army."

The women paged through the scrapbooks, selecting several photos and articles written during Mr. Bakke's life at the resort. They arranged them on the table in order by date. “I'll send one of the dock boys to town to get a sheet of tag board so we can create a collage,” Jane said.

Laughing, Sadie pointed at one of the photos. “Remember the day Mr. Bakke was in the outhouse before we had indoor plumbing and that storm blew the top off the outhouse? All we could see was his head sticking up over what was left of the wall."

"I sure do,” Jane said. “He was so mad at you for taking that picture he didn't talk to you for two days."

"And do you remember he wouldn't repair the wall until I gave him the photo?” Sadie said. “Little did he know I had a duplicate."

Jane removed the articles and photos one by one, stacking them in the order she wanted to apply them to the tag board. “There. That's ready to go.” She slid the stack into a large envelope. She gathered the remaining loose sheets. As she lowered the scrapbooks into the memento box, a yellowed envelope fluttered to the floor.

Sadie bent to retrieve the envelope and placed it on top of the keepsakes. “What was in the envelope?"

"What envelope?"

Turning it over, Sadie noticed the familiar flair of her mother's handwriting. She smiled. “It's got our names on it."

Jane looked over Sadie's shoulder while Sadie pulled two sheets from the envelope and unfolded them. “It looks like mother wrote a birth announcement,” Sadie said. “She must have planned to put it in the newspaper because it's written on newspaper stationery.” Pointing she said, “Look at that. Those numbers must be the size of the announcement and how much it was going to cost."

"She must not have had them print it, because we didn't find a newspaper clipping in her scrapbooks,” Jane said. “And you know mother saved everything. Maybe she didn't dare do it. There has to be some reason she never told anyone who our father was."

Sadie read the birth announcement to her sister.

Vina Witt proudly announces the birth of twin daughters, Fifilomine Jane and Fifilomine Sadie, born on the Eleventh of July, Nineteen Hundred Forty Five.

Sadie placed the announcement behind the second sheet before gazing at its contents. Gasping, she said, “It's our birth certificate."

"Let me see,” Jane said, pulling it from Sadie's grasp. Her eyes zeroed in on the line indicating paternity. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she whispered.

Sadie wrenched the form from her sister's hand. Jane dropped into the chair. “Swanson?” Sadie shouted. “Ingmar Swanson?” Rereading the words, Sadie said, “I'm shocked. Ingmar Swanson is our father."

Jane's shoulders began to shake as she cupped her hand to her mouth.

Standing to embrace her sister from behind, Sadie said, “It's not that bad. Don't cry."

As her shoulders heaved with each breath released, Jane said, “I'm not crying. I'm laughing.” Rising to face her sister, she said, “Don't you know what this means?"

"That the man who owned the bank where mother used to work is the one who got her pregnant?"

Pausing to catch her breath, Jane again burst into laughter. “That's part of it. But don't you remember hearing some talk about a scandal at the bank, years and years ago? I always thought it meant Ingmar embezzled and that's the reason he uprooted his family and left town. But I'll bet it's because his wife found out he got our mother pregnant. Think back on the time we went to the museum and saw Ingmar's family photo on the wall. It was in the founding-father's section."

"So,” Sadie shrugged. “What does that have to do with this?"

"Remember the names under the photo?"

Losing patience, Sadie said, “Are you serious? Why would I remember the names? It's been thirty years since I've been to the museum."

"Well I remember because I thought it was so strange a lady was named Fil. I always thought it was a misspelling and that it should have been Phil. Back then I thought her name must have been Phyllis. But I'll bet it was Fifilomine."

Nodding at the possibility, Sadie said, “What's so strange about that?"

"Nothing,” Jane said. “I just got distracted as I was sorting it out in my head."

Scrunching up her mouth and glaring at Jane, Sadie growled, “Will you please get to the point."

"Well, Miss Smarty Pants,” Jane said, as she craned her head toward her sister. “For once I'm one step ahead of you. I know something you don't."

"What?” Sadie rolled her eyes upward, sighing in frustration.