Hearts at Home (14 page)

“But we need the ferry. Those fellers at the post office in Ogunquit don't always have time to bring our mail, and Bea's already having a fit about not being able to make timely deliveries.”

“I'm sorry, Floyd, but I can't let Odell drive my boat. I don't trust him.”

Floyd rolled his eyes to the ceiling, searching for inspiration. He had an idea, but the sheer audacity of it spooked him a little. He didn't like to verbalize his dreams too often, lest the speaking somehow dilute them, but if the town needed him— Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “How about giving me permission to operate the ferry? I'm responsible. If this town can entrust me with the municipal fire truck, I shouldn't think you'd have any problem trusting me with one old boat.”

“My ferry isn't municipal property, Floyd. It's my livelihood, and if it goes down I'll have no way to support my family.”

“You'll have insurance, won't you? Come on, Stroble, show your patriotism.”

“What does my ferry have to do with patriotism?”

“I don't know, but I'm sure there's a link. Why, if you needed the fire truck at the dock, I'd have her there in record time. So—what do you say? Can I run the ferry 'till you get back?”

The captain hemmed and hawed, so Floyd took advantage of his hesitation. “It might help if you remember that Cleta is Mazie's third cousin by marriage. So we're practically family.”

He looked across the room. Cleta had been steadfastly pretending to ignore him, but her left eyebrow arched at the mention of her name.

“You'll have to pick the boat up in York when it's ready,” Stroble said.

“No trouble at all.”

“Well . . . okay. But you won't have her long—probably just a couple of weeks. That means you'll have to find some other way to get to the mainland while my boat's in dry dock.”

“We'll manage somehow.”

A minute later Floyd hung up and shot Cleta a triumphant grin. “He gave me permission.”

Both brows arched this time. “I don't know who's crazier, him, you, or people who want to go out in February. Folks ought to be tucked up inside their houses where it's warm. Just keep this in mind, Floyd—if you let anything happen to that boat, we'll never hear the end of it.”

He rubbed his hands together. “You tend to your knittin' and let me worry about the ferry. Ain't never sunk a boat yet—and you tell the town that anytime they want to go to the mainland, just give me the word.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, content to gaze upon the crackling fire and dream of the days ahead. “This ought to be fun.”

“Only a fool hen would want to drive a ferry in February.” With that pronouncement, Cleta stood and left the room.

Chapter Six

S
itting in the warm kitchen of Frenchman's Fairest, Annie wrapped her hands around a mug of fragrant tea and wondered when she would stop thinking of the room as Olympia's kitchen. By all rights it should belong to Caleb, for he'd done all the cooking for as long as Annie could remember.

The aging butler stood at the sink now, washing up the last of the breakfast dishes.

“It's not like I live here,” she said, launching into yet another recap of her situation. Somehow it helped to verbalize her options aloud. “I've lived in Portland for the last five years. And if things develop with A.J., I might be living in New York within a few months. Heavenly Daze will seem a world away.”

“Ayuh.” Caleb cast a grin over his shoulder. “But sometimes we miss the places we aren't able to visit. We grow homesick.”

Annie bit her lip, considering his comment. Would she ever be homesick for Heavenly Daze? Maybe in fall, when the island glowed with autumnal colors and the scent of wood smoke filled the air. Most of the tourists had departed by Columbus Day, and from October on Heavenly Daze was pure delight.

Then again, the tourists weren't totally terrible. They descended upon the island in the spring and livened things up so much it was sometimes hard to remember that only twenty-five year-round residents lived on the island—twenty-
seven,
now that Salt had gained custody of his two grandchildren. And summer on Heavenly Daze was wonderful, sunny and boisterous by day and blessedly cool and quiet at night. Growing up on the island, Annie had always thought the wind rocked everyone to sleep, for no matter how many people crowded into the bed-and-breakfast guest rooms, the island and everything on it seemed to whisper at sundown and murmur into the night.

Even winter on Heavenly Daze held its charms. Where else could you stand by the frozen shore and feel like nothing but thousands of diamond stars stood between you and God?

If she sold the house and left Heavenly Daze, she'd probably never come back except for funerals. After all, Caleb wouldn't live forever. Neither would Vernie, Birdie and Bea, or Cleta and Floyd. The Grahams and the Klackenbushes were younger, but they hadn't lived here during Annie's childhood, so they weren't as close to her as the others.

She sipped her tea, grateful for Caleb's silence. He was allowing her to figure this one out for herself, and she appreciated him trusting her judgment enough not to give unwanted advice. Yet . . . though she'd usually resented Olympia's unsolicited comments, the woman had always painted things in black and white.

Annie lowered her mug, then propped her chin in her hand. A little black-and-white advice would be welcome about now. Things were too gray for her taste.

Selling the house would enable her to finance a decent burial for her aunt. Hiring a ship to search for the casket would cost a fair amount of mitten money, but the house would need to be repaired and spruced up before she could sell it. The roof needed replacing, the floors needed supporting, and the entire exterior needed caulking and a couple of coats of paint.

Then again, how could she sell the house and leave Caleb to face new owners? Worse yet, what if the new owners didn't want to employ an aged butler who shuffled around in twenty-year-old slippers?

“Caleb,” she shifted her gaze to the old man, “have you been happy on Heavenly Daze?”

He looked at her, his eyes widening. “Of course, Annie. I'm always happy doing the Lord's will.”

“But how did you know you were following the Lord's will? I mean, it's not like he writes things on the wall these days.”

Caleb laughed softly. “He told me to come here.”

“God
spoke
to you?”

“And I listened. You will hear him, too, if you listen for his voice.”

Frowning, she looked away. Caleb had always seemed closer to God than anyone else she knew. While it seemed almost reasonable to believe God did speak to the old man, it had been some time since he had spoken to Annie.

“I'm glad you're asking about these things.” Caleb pulled out a chair. “I need to tell you something.”

Afraid of what she might hear, she watched him sit down. “You're not sick, are you?”

He chuckled. “I never get sick.”

“Then . . . what?”

“I'll be leaving soon.” His words dropped into the warmth of the kitchen with the weight of stones in still water. Unable to believe what she'd heard, Annie sat perfectly still for a moment, then forced out a reply. “You're
leaving?”

He nodded. “I was sent here to serve Missy, and now that she's gone home, I expect to be transferred to another post. You're not to worry,” his eyes twinkled, “for the Lord will continue to keep his hand upon anyone who lives in this special place. But don't let concern for me cloud your thinking about your future. I know I'll be moving on by the end of the month.”

Annie stared wordlessly at him, her heart pounding. Had Olympia's death unhinged him? Aside from his occasional odd comments Caleb had never shown any serious sign of mental instability, but he had never lost two dear people in such a short time. Perhaps grief had ravaged his mind.

If so, she would need to treat him with loving firmness, as if he were a child and she the parent. Taking a deep breath, she forced a note of sternness into her voice. “You can't go, Caleb, so don't even think about it. I don't mean to sound unkind, but you're too old to accept another post.”

Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder. “It's sweet of you to worry about me, child, but completely unnecessary. Don't let this aging body deceive you—I will serve many more years before my work is complete.”

“Caleb, you're talking crazy. I don't know how much Aunt Olympia paid you, but you should think about retiring. If I sell the house, I could set you up with a retirement fund—”

“I don't need money. My reward comes from doing the will of the Father.”

“But your needs are on earth, right? You've worked your fingers to the bone in this place, so you deserve something for your efforts. I could sell the house. I'll split the proceeds with you and you could get a little apartment in Ogunquit, if you want to stay in the area—”

The shrill ringing of the kitchen phone interrupted, and Caleb rose to answer it. While she waited, the butler croaked out a greeting, then winked and handed her the phone.

The caller had to be A.J.

She accepted the phone, then smiled when Caleb discreetly slipped from the room.

“Hey,” she murmured into the receiver. “Thanks for calling. I need to talk to somebody rational, and I think Caleb's slipped a gear.”

“Really?” A.J.'s voice rang with surprise. “He seemed to have his act together at the funeral.”

“I think maybe it's a delayed stress reaction or something. He just told me he plans to leave Heavenly Daze and take another job.”

A.J. laughed. “Maybe he's hinting that he'd like to go with you when you come to New York.”

Annie gripped the phone cord. A.J. had never said anything about her moving to New York, so his comment was either a roundabout proposal . . . or something she was misinterpreting entirely.

“Well,” she injected a coy note into her voice, “I'm not so sure I'll be moving to New York. I hear the weather's terrible up there.”

Warm baritone laughter rang over the line. “And you think the weather's better in Maine? Honey, you've been on that island too long. You need to come back to civilization.”

“I'd be happy to . . . if I had the right motivation. Right now I'm perfectly content to rattle around in this big, old house.”

“Would a pair of warm slippers by the fire be motivation enough? Maybe some Kenny G on the CD player, and a nice dinner for two on TV trays?”

Grinning, Annie ran her hand over the worn vinyl tablecloth. “New York doesn't sound terribly romantic. I could have all those things right here in Frenchman's Fairest.”

“But you couldn't have tickets to a Broadway show . . . or a gallant young doctor to squire you around Times Square. If you come to New York, you could have all of the above for only $19.99 and the answer
yes.”

“If the answer is yes,” Annie clenched the phone cord until her nails cut into her palm, “what, exactly, is the question?”

A.J. paused, and in the silence Annie could hear her heart thumping. “The question,” he finally said, “would have to be, ‘Will you move to New York so we can spend more time together . . . and see what the future might hold?'”

Exhaling, Annie resisted a sudden stab of disappointment. What had she expected after six weeks of dating, an outright proposal? She and A.J. had been out only a few times.

At least he hadn't asked her to move in with him. Too many of her friends thought nothing of living with a man before marriage, but Annie knew she'd never be able to do that. She was no angel, but she did know that a godly relationship ought to begin with respect and commitment, not sex and cohabitation.

She was not so much in love that A.J. Hayes should start counting his chickens, but the man had seemed awfully cocky when he posed the question about moving.

“I'm not sure the answer is yes,” she said, her voice cool. “I've been toying with the idea of staying in Heavenly Daze. After all, I now own a house here. Why should I pay rent in Portland when I can own waterfront property on an island?”

“Come on, Annie.” She thought she heard a note of exasperation in his voice. “Surely you aren't serious.”

“Why not? This isn't the edge of the world, you know. I grew up here, and it is a nice place.”

“But it's so isolated! My plane can't land there, and you know what a disaster that ferry is. I don't even like to visit my father on that God-forsaken island, so how can you expect . . .”

His voice trailed away, but Annie had already intuited his unspoken thought—
If I won't visit my father, why
would you expect me to visit you?

Apparently Dr. Alex Hayes wasn't as deeply in love as she had first thought.

He sighed into the phone. “I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. But you're not seriously thinking about keeping that place, are you? It's not easy to take care of a two-hundred-year-old mausoleum.”

“It's not a mausoleum, it's a historic residence.” She tugged on the phone cord. “I know it'd be hard to maintain, but I can't imagine selling Aunt Olympia's house. She loved this place, and she wanted me to have it.”

“But she left it to you, knowing that you live in Portland. Honestly, Annie, you shouldn't beat yourself up about selling it. Your aunt knew you were an independent woman.”

“Ayuh, she did. But I know how much she loved Heavenly Daze, how proud she was to belong here. If I sell, there won't be any descendants of Jacques de Cuvier left on the island.”

“Descendants of who?”

“Of
whom
. Jacques de Cuvier was the sea captain who founded the town.”

“Like
he
really cares if you stay there.”

“I don't know—he might. Caleb keeps telling me that people in heaven are watching us down here.”