Nantucket (21 page)

L
evi and Emma carried the last of the paintings up the stairs to the spacious studio on the top floor of an old warehouse that looked out over Boston Harbor. “I love your space here,” Emma said, setting down the painting in her arms. “I can't believe the rent is such a bargain.”

“I know. I think I'm going to keep it even after the cottage is ready. They're so different.”

“And the art that comes from them will be too.”

“You're right—it's funny how the setting influences the outcome; here I'm always working from photographs, but when the cottage is ready, I'll be able to do a lot more plein air painting, which will be nice—I haven't had the chance to do that since college.”

“Something to look forward to,” Emma said with a smile.

“I need something to look forward to . . . although I'm going to miss being able to show my mom what I'm working on,” he said sadly.

“I think you're going to find she's closer than ever—it'll be as if she's looking over your shoulder.”

“I hope so,” Levi said, pulling her into his arms. “One thing she's already told me is not to let go of
you
.”

“She's a smart lady,” Emma teased.

“Well, I told her I already knew that.”

“Smart boy,” she added, laughing.

“And I never will,” he added, kissing her full lips.

“Even if we have to move to Oregon someday?”

“Even then,” he said, kissing her neck and pushing her blouse down over her shoulder.

“Mmm,” she murmured, pulling him toward the unmade bed that was pushed up against the windows, but as she lay back across the sun-warmed sheets and watched him pull his sweater over his head, she realized his eyes were glistening.

He dropped his sweater on the bed and sat down next to her. “I'm sorry, Em, I shouldn't have started anything. I thought I could . . .” he said, “but I just can't. All I can think about is how much pain she's in . . .
and
how time is running out.”

“Shh . . . it's okay,” Emma whispered.

Levi lay back against the pillows next to her with tears streaming down his cheeks. “My heart feels like it weighs a hundred pounds . . . and it's all I can do to drag it around behind me.”

Emma stroked his soft hair. “A month from now . . . or six months from now, when the time is right, Le, we'll make love again. There's no hurry.”

Levi turned to search her eyes. “I need to head back, but you don't have to go. I know you have things to take care of . . . I know you have stuff to do.”

Emma frowned. “I'm going back with you.”

He smiled sadly and wrapped his arms around her.

O
n Tuesday afternoon, a light rain began to fall across Nantucket and the dark clouds and fog hung stubbornly over the island right through Thursday. By Wednesday, Cadie had stopped eating, and although Lisa tried to limit her meds so she'd be awake, her pain without them was crushing. At Liam's request, she and another nurse started taking turns staying at the house, and although they said they wouldn't be sleeping while they were there, Liam gave up his bed and slept in Coop's old recliner so they'd be close to Cadie if she needed them. On Thursday night, Moby hopped up on the bed and nestled on the quilt next to her . . . and Liam—who'd never seen his cat show compassion—found it oddly comforting that the old fellow seemed to understand. Even happy-go-lucky Tuck was subdued and often wandered into the room to rest his chin on the bed or gently nudge her hand.

On Friday morning, the sun finally broke through the gloomy clouds, bringing with it blue skies and a balmy breeze. Liam pushed open the kitchen windows to let in the fresh air and went to see if Lisa needed anything. As soon as he walked in the room, he realized Cadie's breathing had changed—it was shallow and more labored. “Is everything okay?” he asked with a frown.

Lisa turned to look at him and shook her head. “You need to decide if you want Aidan to be here.”

“Do you think it's today?”

“I do,” she said gently.

Liam shook his head. “I-I don't know . . .” he stammered.

“It should be whatever feels right to you.” She paused, seeing his dismay. “I'll get Levi.”

Liam sat on the edge of the bed and held Cadie's hand. “What would
you
want, Cade?” he whispered softly. “Aiden is
so
young . . . but he knows what's happening. Would you want him to be here?” He searched her unresponsive face and then looked up and realized Levi had come into the room. “What do you think?”

“I don't know either,” Levi said, brushing back tears.

Just then, a hummingbird landed on the feeder and they both watched as it hovered outside the window, looking at them. “It's a part of life,” Levi said, “but I don't want him to be scarred for life.”

Emma stood in the doorway with Aidan and then put her hands on his shoulders and guided him over to the bed. “Hi, Mommy,” he whispered softly, touching Cadie's hand. To their surprise, she stirred and opened her eyes.

“Hi, hon,” she murmured, and then she turned to look out the window. “Did you see how blue the sky is today?” Aidan nodded solemnly and she squeezed his hand. Then she looked at each of them and smiled wistfully. “I've known such love,” she whispered.

Moments later, she was gone.

—I Corinthians 15:52

L
iam stood silently, watching the last rays of the September day dance across the waves.
It's over,
he thought.
The seemingly interminable wait for death is over. Cadie is gone . . . and now we are left to pick up the pieces of our lives and move on—with work and school and whatever else will occupy our time. Our lives
without
her.
He closed his eyes and recalled how, when Cadie's breathing had become almost imperceptible, Lisa had opened a window. “For her spirit to pass on,” she'd said, and a warm breeze had whispered through the window, rustling the curtain.

He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbed his eyes, and watched a flock of piping plovers chase the waves. He felt something wet nudge his hand and then heard a light thump on the sand. He looked down and saw a soggy tennis ball at his feet. “Life goes on, doesn't it, old pal?” he said with a sad smile. He picked up the ball and tossed it, but Tuck only took a few half-hearted steps before he just sat down and gazed at it. “I know how you feel,” Liam said, kneeling next to him. Tuck licked Liam's cheek and then lay down and put his big, golden head between his paws.

“Oh, pal,” Liam said, sitting next to him. “You and I—we should know better. This is what happens when you put your heart on the line.”

“Hey, Dad,” Levi said, coming up behind them.

Liam looked up. “I don't think I'm ever going to get used to being called
Dad.
”

“Yes, you will, and someday, you'll be called Grandpa too.” He knelt down next to him and stroked Tuck's soft fur. “Anyway, the undertaker just called, and he's on his way.”

Liam nodded. “I'll be right up.”

“Okay,” Levi said, turning to walk back to the house. Liam watched him go and then looked back at the waves. He'd always thought it was crazy that grieving people were expected to deal with the business-like details of their loved ones' arrangements within hours of losing them: Writing an obituary so it will appear in the paper in a timely fashion; choosing a coffin or cremation; deciding where to bury—or scatter—the remains; choosing hymns and readings, not to mention planning a party-like reception for an unpredictable number of people—all while you're feeling your absolute worst. And even though he'd balked when Cadie had brought up the subject, he was glad, now, she told him what she wanted.

“You don't have to tell my parents,” she'd instructed matter-of-factly. “They probably won't come anyway—especially since I want my ashes to be scattered, not buried.”

“Maybe you should write this down,” Liam had suggested, blinking back tears as he listened to her casually talk about it.

“There's
only
one other thing . . .”

“What's that?”

“I want it to be a celebration—no tears—and maybe Emma could sing a hymn.”

Liam had nodded, trying to muster a smile. “I can't promise anything—I mean, we'll try to make it celebratory, but there might be some tears.” He paused. “What hymn?”

“Something upbeat,” she'd mused thoughtfully, humming a few notes of one of her favorite hymns, and Emma, who was sitting in the next room, recognized it and smiled.

At least it will be simple,
he thought . . . and
we don't have to plan a party.

 

Cadie's service
was
simple and beautiful—just the way she wanted. On Tuesday morning, after Levi stoically read from John 14 and Aidan helped Liam take the top off the box of ashes and then held Sally's hand, Emma slipped her guitar strap over her head, strummed a few notes, adjusted the strings, and sang the hymn Cadie had hummed that day—“Lord of the Dance”—her sweet voice carrying over the sand. Finally, with the wind whispering through the grass, Liam tearfully walked to the water's edge and released the ashes across the gentle waves of Tuckernuck Island.

They stood and watched in silence until Aidan whispered, “Play it again, Em.”

She looked down and smiled. “Only if you'll sing it with me this time. . . .”

He nodded and Emma started to softly strum her guitar again.

On the ride back, the runabout skipped lightly across the waves, but the hearts of her passengers were as heavy as anchors, each of them feeling as if they were leaving someone very important behind.

 

“The purpose of life is to sow seeds of love, encouragement, wisdom, and forgiveness,” Levi read as they sat around the kitchen table the next morning. He looked up from the worn, leather journal Cadie had filled with quotes, verses, prayers and sketches. “Look at this drawing,” he added, sliding the book across the table. Liam and Emma both leaned forward to look at the sketch of a little boy.

Emma smiled. “If that isn't Aidan, I don't know who it is!”

Liam nodded. “Now we know where you get your talent, Le.”

Levi shook his head. “I had no idea she could draw
or
that she kept a journal.”

“It's a real treasure,” Liam agreed.

Levi paused and looked up at Emma. “I think now would be a good time.”

She smiled and nodded.

“A good time for what?” Liam asked.

“Mom wanted us to give you something,” Levi said, “when the time was right.”

Liam watched curiously as Levi disappeared down the hall and came back with a large, flat package wrapped in brown paper. “This was in my show—so you may remember it, but before the show even opened, Mom bought it, and she made Devon and Chase promise not to tell me. When I arrived, I realized it had sold and I couldn't believe it. Of course, they wouldn't tell me who bought it, so I didn't find out until the show ended . . . when Em and I went to pick up the paintings that hadn't sold.” He paused. “By then, Mom was pretty out of it most of the time, but one morning when she happened to be awake, I told her I would've given her the painting if she'd told me she wanted it, but she said no, she wanted to
buy
it—and she wanted to give it to you. I tried to explain that she could've saved a lot of money, but she didn't care—she wanted to support me.” He paused and searched Liam's eyes. “When she bought it, she didn't even know if she was going to see you again.”

Liam nodded, and as Levi pulled away the paper, his heart stopped—it was the painting of the island. He stared at it in disbelief, remembering how he'd admired it and how disappointed he'd been when Tracey explained what the red dot meant. “I love it,” Liam said, misty-eyed. “When I first saw it, I wondered how you had captured it so perfectly.”

Levi smiled. “I worked from the old photos Mom had taken—she said they were from the last day she saw you. The photos are beautiful. The sun is setting behind the trees and the island is bathed in a warm, rosy glow.”

“Well, you captured it perfectly. I've often recalled how beautiful the sky was that evening,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I love it,” he said again, and then looked at Levi and Emma. “Where do you think I should hang it?”

“Over your bed,” Emma said. “The lighting in there is perf—”

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Tuck scrambled to get up. “Hey there, Tuck,” a familiar voice said as Tuck nudged the door open with his nose and went out to greet the mailman.

“Hey, Mike,” Liam said.

“Hey, Liam,” Mike replied, kneeling to give Tuck a treat.

“What've you got for me?”

“Another certified letter that needs a signature,” Mike said, holding out the card.

“Great,” Liam muttered as he looked at the name of the sender.

“Sorry,” Mike said.

Liam nodded. “I'll forgive you this time, but don't bring any more.”

Mike smiled as he stood up. “I'll try not to.”

Liam took the envelope inside, sat down at the table, and scanned the letter from Carlton Knox's attorney.

“What's it say?” Levi asked.

Liam shook his head in disbelief. “It says your grandparents—due to their extensive financial support of Aidan and his mother— have been granted temporary custody until the court makes its final decision. It's effective Wednesday, September sixteenth.” He glanced at the calendar. “That's today!”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out John's business card, walked over to the phone, and dialed. A moment later, he was leaving a message and looking worriedly at his watch. “He's not there . . . and I have to pick up Aidan.”

“I'm going with you,” Levi said.

“Someone has to stay here in case he calls back.”

“He has Mom's cell phone number.”

“But I left the home number in my message. . . .”

“I'll stay,” Emma said. “You two go.”