44

Bobby had heard enough. He’d been by the infirmary to see Dr. Steinman, asking the physician if there were any drugs that would ease his back pain. Steinman had pointed out that he’d had the maximum number of cortisone shots that the mainland would send for one patient, and that the next step was to visit with a neurosurgeon to see what surgery could do to help him. Steinman hadn’t seemed interested at all in helping Bobby, too distracted by a sheet of information he was tallying on his desk. Bobby assured him that he could live with the pain, because what good was going to do to go to a neurosurgeon? He didn’t have anyone to watch over him when he came home and needed to recover.

Later on, when he reported to work at the funeral home, Bobby found his work desk a mess, and files strewn everywhere. Steinman had fussed that there were two invoices out of order in the system and accused Bobby of slipping, the same way his wife had. Bobby couldn’t remember seeing the particular invoices,  but he knew that Steinman checked the coffins before it was turned over to a mainland funeral home. If there was some kind of mix-up with the paperwork, shouldn’t he have seen it himself? When Bobby had woken up that morning, this was not the way he hoped that his day would go. 

Pushing away from the computer, Bobby rolled his chair backward to look out the window. Down on the dock, a tourist couple were twirling their toddler around in the little park. Bobby could hear the boy laughing, and watching the family’s joy made him smile. They were all soaking wet, but you couldn’t stay in the B&B all day, Bobby thought. Sometimes a kid just had to be a kid. 

Steinman stuck his head into the office. “I need your help with something,” he said, and then walked away. Bobby grimaced, pulling himself out of the rolling chair and followed after him. 

“I need to move this coffin out of the way so that we can display the newer version,” explained Steinman. He grabbed one end and waited expectantly for Bobby to grab the other. 

Bobby looked at the box and then at the doctor. His hands were already trembling. He took a deep breath and grabbed the handle on his end, and saw that the doctor already had his end elevated. Sweating, Bobby lifted, barely, and the coffin moved incrementally off of the table. 

Steinman was already moving, and Bobby tried to keep up. The empty box didn’t weigh much, but Bobby’s balance was off, and as they left the parlor, he tripped. His left hand lost purchase on the handle but his right hand locked up and down he went, face first into the coffin. 

“Bobby!” Steinman shouted. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Steinman,” Bobby stammered. “It’s just that, I can’t-”

“It’s pretty clear what you can’t do,” snapped Steinman. “I’m starting to wonder if this is a good fit.”

The doorbell chimed, and in walked Fred from Ocean’s Spray. He looked at Bobby on the floor, and the coffin halfway propped against Steinman’s hip. The doctor tried to smile, but it was only half-hearted. Fred started to laugh, but he saw the hurt expression on Bobby’s face, and swallowed mid-chuckle. 

“I’m sure Fred can help,” Dr. Steinman purred. “Just finish up what you’re doing and get out of here. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go home to rest a bit, Bobby?”

Bobby got up stiffly, nodding to Fred, and then to Dr. Steinman. He grabbed his raincoat off of the hook in his office and then headed outside into the rain. 

The walk wasn’t long but in his sore state, Bobby couldn’t move as fast as he’d like. To make matters worse, he didn’t see the puddle until he’d stuck his whole foot, up over his ankle, into the mess of mud. Now he was sore, wet, and muddy. He groaned, looking down at his ruined shoe. 

Just then, the Moma boys came running out of the hardware store, with Phil hot on their heels. Bobby dodged Joe but couldn’t quite get out of the way of Jimmy. They both went down in a heap, soggy and banged up as the teenager crashed into Bobby. 

Bobby stared up at the sky, as the rain continued to pelt him in the face. Jimmy pushed off of Bobby’s sore rib cage to get back on his feet, and looked down sadly at the older man on the ground. By now, Joe had turned back, and together with Jimmy and Phil, pulled Bobby up to a seated position and then to his feet. “I’m awfully sorry, mister,” Joe said, elbowing his brother. Jimmy actually looked chagrined, which was more than Fred had ever seen him before. 

“I’m sorry about your wife,” Jimmy added, but Bobby was too numb to respond. 

Bobby remembered how his wife had been the only person he had ever seen go out of her way to talk to the Moma boys. Apparently, before their father died, they would come in with him to the library and check out books once a week. She said they were into classical authors like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and that their father always read the books the same time that they did. She’d had a soft spot for the two troublemakers and no matter what they did, they’d always left the library alone. 

Finally, Bobby just nodded, looking down at his torn pants and soaked shoes. He knew this particular outfit was ruined, and he was running out of things to wear that Steinman thought were appropriate to wear to work. He really was sore all over, but he couldn’t find any words to fuss at the boys. How were they supposed to make a way forward in the world without their dad? He could only blame them so much when he thought about all of the things he’d done, only to be corrected by his father. 

The rest of the walk home was muddy and stiff. The tremors were bothering him more than normal, and his whole body was sore from the collision with Jimmy. Getting older wasn’t for the faint of heart, but it would’ve been a lot more enjoyable if he’d had someone to share the stories with. 

Hanging his coat up on the wooden rack that he had made for Elaine decades before, Bobby kissed his pointer finger and touched the framed picture of his wife from their wedding. Pulling off his sodden clothes, he fixed a hot tea and fell asleep in his recliner staring at the pictures on the wall.

45

Pushing through the driving rain that seemed to come from all directions at once, Leo passed the upper edge of the woods and realized that the storm had gained intensity since the morning. He knew where the mansion was supposed to be, but his vision was so obscured that he couldn’t even make it out as he pressed on up the cobblestone path. Rain was pelting him in the face, and even his new coat couldn’t keep him completely dry. If he’d had his dress shoes on, he would’ve fallen down several times, too. There was enough rainwater flowing down from the top of the hill that he slipped a few times and had to reestablish his footing. Cresting the hill, he could see the shadow of the mansion in the storm. Finally. 

One step, and then the other. Leo was more concerned about falling off the side of the edge of the cliff than anything else, and he carefully stayed on the path. At this point, no one else was moving around, and he assumed that they’d all taken cover until the storm would blow over or at the very least lessen. He shook his head at his own decision to return to O’Rourke’s mansion, and silently regretted having given his word to come back. Maybe he should’ve just given the man a rain check. Leo laughed at his own joke. 

A glimmer of light appeared, causing Leo to raise his hooded head, rain dripping off the top of his hood down onto his face. He pulled down harder on the hood, continuing to drive himself forward one step at a time, and slowly the mansion came into focus. The storm seemed to know he was getting closer to his destination, and a gust of wind blew his hood off of his head. Rain came down on his bare head like buckets of water, and he doubled his pace. He tried pulling on the hood but the gusts were too strong. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he passed the fountain and followed the light to the front door. He took a moment to catch his breath and pulled the jacket off, careful not to dump the accumulated water inside the hood onto his own body. Turning back to the mansion, he’d barely had time to knock, when the door swung open, and Miss Isabelle stood there, expectantly. She smiled up at him, her energetic spirit undeterred by the storm raging around them.

“Red told me you’d be coming back,” she said. “I think he has something he wants to talk with you about.” 

Leo crossed the threshold, and looked around for a coat rack. “I’ll take your coat,” Miss Isabelle said. “You head upstairs. Red certainly needs someone to talk to and for some reason, he wants it to be you.”

The older woman took his coat at arm’s length as it dripped a monsoon of its own onto the entryway floor. Neptune and Poseidon yipped as they ran underneath it, and felt the cold water hit their backs. Leo patted them each on the head, thanking Miss Isabelle for her help. The mansion felt warm and calm compared to the storm outside, and Leo was grateful to be out of the weather for the time being. 

Up the great staircase and down the hall, Leo walked, thoughts bouncing like bullets, ricocheting around his head. What could Red want to talk about? He’d been so unresponsive the day before. Was it about his fall? Or something about Martha? Leo knew that sometimes people just needed to clear their conscience, and it was easier to feel that way if they knew someone else was listening, receiving the news that they finally decided to share. 

Knocking on the door softly, Leo pushed it open as O’Rourke’s gruff voice commanded him to enter. The blinds were open, but the storm was obscuring any real natural light. O’Rourke’s room was spacious but spartan, stripped of pictures and other adornment. Lying in the bed, and nearly filling it up, O’Rourke looked even bigger under the bedding that covered him up to his arms. 

Silently, Red indicated that Leo should sit in the chair next to the bed, and pulled a cord on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. The tepid light stretched toward Red, but half of his face was hidden in shadow, as he lay on his back staring at the ceiling. The man looked troubled, more so than angry, and Leo wondered what could have tormented a man like O’Rourke to the point where he felt that he had to share. 

Crossing the room, Leo sat down on the indicated chair, recognizing that he was leaving a water trail as he walked. He started to apologize but a raised hand from Red silenced him. Leo immediately stopped, and sat up a little straighter. 

“This storm is ripping up the island,” Red said. “A little water in my house isn’t going to change anything. It means quite a bit that you would come during this storm. I never had much luck with the old pastor coming to see me, or listening to what I had to say when he did. You’re proving to be different than what I expected.”

Leo shrugged, and sat back, crossing one leg over his other. “Miss Isabelle said you wanted to talk to me about something. I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”

Red lay there motionless at first, staring up at the ceiling. Without ever turning to Leo, he sighed deeply and asked, “Do you really think change is possible? Do you think people can change, for the better? Do you think I can actually change, right here and right now?”

“Well, of course,” Leo replied. “It’s evident that physically and mentally we’re capable of change, and that we change for the better. It takes time, and one has to be intentional. But yes, I think change is possible.”

“But do you think we can change the direction of our lives? Do you think our souls can go from dark to light, from bad to good?” O’Rourke responded, his voice wavering in the dark. 

“Sir,” said Leo, “I know we are capable of more than we’ve ever dreamed, and I certainly believe that a person can choose to turn aside from their way of life to something better.”

“Is there something specific you need to share? I mean, are you seeking confession?”

Leo watched as a tear rolled from Red’s eye, down his cheek, before plopping softly into the pillow. He could see that the man was trembling, and that there was something warring inside of Red’s soul to get out, to be made known.”

“You’re only the second person I’ve ever told any of this to,” Red whispered, still staring at the ceiling. “The old pastor here was an old school type. My father would’ve loved him. When I told him what I’m about to tell you, he told me that I’d made my choice, that life was decided, that I was going to hell. I stopped going to church when he was preaching because I could feel his condemnation, the way that he was judging me every time he opened his mouth. That man didn’t really know my life but he thought he knew me. He knew why I wasn’t coming, and he wouldn’t even speak to me in town when I saw him. That will rip a person apart.”

The pain in Red’s voice was palpable, and it drove lines up and down his face as he spoke. He turned to Leo as he continued, the certainty of what he said about Leo causing the younger man’s heart to flutter. It was one thing to be doing what you thought you were supposed to, and something completely different when someone else acknowledged what you hoped everyone would see. 

“Then you showed up and you seem pretty convinced that we get more than one shot at getting things right, that our decisions can change how things go. You said something about community, and showing each other mercy the other day. I’ve watched you, the way you treat different people respectfully, regardless of who they are in the community or what they’ve done to you. I think you really believe what you say, that you really mean it, that there might still be hope for me. So I’m going to tell you my story, and see if you still think we’re all redeemable or not.”

Before he could respond, Leo watched as Red pulled himself up higher in the bed. The man was still clearly weakened, but his strength was returning. He pulled the blanket up to his chest, and rested his giant gnarled hands on top of the covers. He had decided that he was telling his story to Leo, no matter what response he received, and he was summoning the effort to do it. 

“Everyone knows that we left the island together, Martha and I, but they don’t really understand how close we were or how our dreams of life were greater than anything the island could contain. When we left as young adults, Martha and I had already graduated with our degrees when we headed off of the island, for what I would have said was the last time. We had said our goodbyes and we longed to establish ourselves in the world on our own two feet without resting on Mother and Father’s wealth or name or favors.”

“My parents weren’t thrilled by the idea of us moving away, because they were incredibly strict and principled. They thought the world outside could only turn us away from the things they believed, and maybe they were right to fear that. They were incredibly conservative, beyond strict by today’s examples, and we felt unable to actually think for ourselves about what we believed. They had no idea what we hoped and dreamed because they believed we’d always just be part of the family and do the things they thought were important around the island.”

“They had sent us to the finest schools and abroad for big learning opportunities in the summers, but always under their expectations and only to where they wanted us to go, with money they inherited from their parents. My parents knew nothing about really making decisions or finding their way because everything they had, including the mansion, had been given to them. They had money to make any problems that appeared go away, and never thought about what it was like to deal with something that was in the gray area. Right was right to them, and it came with a distinct set of beliefs that involved their best interests, and everyone else could just sort through whatever was left.”

“My father never had to work with anyone he didn’t like because he just replaced them. He thought anyone who wasn’t WASP was beneath him, and he’d employ men of other races, but never call them friends. They were a different class of people to him, sometimes not even people, because they lacked the money and education and power that he took for granted. He was the privileged type and he thought he deserved it. So that was the kind of thinking I grew up with, and Martha, too. It wasn’t until later that I even thought to challenge those ideas, so emblazoned in my head were the things he said and worse, did.”

“I don’t think that my father had to make half of the decisions in life that I’ve made, and my mother never strayed far from the mansion gardens. She wouldn’t even come out during the annual migration, for fear of interacting with someone she thought was strange. When Martha and I went to the mainland for schooling, we discovered how much more there was to the world and how much other people could matter to us. Martha really took to those beliefs. I think I only partially understood.”

“So Martha and I, sweet Sissy, we’d sworn that we would live free of the claustrophobia of knowing everyone and being known by everyone, that we were going to find our own way to be free of them and see the world, and sometimes you have to make your own way to figure out your way back. I wanted to see the world and Martha just wanted to make music. I ruined that for both of us.”

“Sometimes you think you leave the thing behind you, but you can’t because it’s already in you, part of who you are. I couldn’t get out of Father’s way of thinking, and it cost Martha everything.”

Red became quiet for quite some time, to the point where Leo thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. Outside the storm raged, and the wind blew against the mansion windows. The light flickered at one point but refused to go out, even as the storm caused the sky to darken. Leo wasn’t scared, but he wasn’t too comfortable either, and he’d almost convinced himself that he could slip out of the door unnoticed. But then Red began to talk, and the words rolled out of his mouth like the sea, as he explained the tragedy that had become of Red and Martha O’Rourke. 

46

As Leo listened, Red’s story took them around the world, to exotic locations and every continent. The siblings found their way aboard a cruise ship, working apart but on the same vessel. Red wanted to see the world and had a taste of sailing and travel through the university that he had attended; Martha just wanted to find a way to make music, to play and to sing, to collaborate and to celebrate all that was good in the world. At first, everything was glorious and wonderful, a new real world education to match (and maybe replace) what his father had forced him to learn that was primarily about the rich and privileged. O’Rourke wasn’t seen as special, important, or privileged when he was working below decks on the cruise, mopping, cleaning, hauling, and serving. He sweat just like any other man, and found himself dog tired from his time working that well eclipsed any chance he had to rest. He ate with the crew from the meager meal offerings and sometimes went whole days without seeing the sun. He began as a member of the crew, soaking up the lessons he learned along the way and growing in status because of his hard work. He gained more responsibility and even found a few of the crew to be as close as he’d ever experienced another relationship. There he met Carol and Steinman, and realized that other people could be part of one’s circle even if they were from different circles. 

Above decks, Martha latched on with a musical ensemble who needed a pianist for one of the evening shows. She observed and asked questions, taking on extra shifts when someone else needed a night off and providing backup vocals even when her voice was clearly superior. Over time, the musicians came to count on her, and to trust her. She gradually became the voice that people rode the cruise for, that people sought out, that called out in the dark ballrooms at night to people of all backgrounds who found her voice alluring.

So O’Rourke and Martha found success, applying their education and desire to endear them to the people who they worked with and rising up the ladder of success on that first ship. Then their paths diverged onto different ships, in search of their own dreams. Red crossed paths with Martha occasionally when they worked on the same ships, watching her play the piano and sing for passengers on the cruise ships. She told him of her trips to Europe and Asia, and of her desire to settle down in a big city where she could perform every night. He longed to stay aboard a ship and sail forever, never finding himself bogged down or stuck again in one place with one way of thinking. 

O’Rourke became the first mate and then the captain. He was granted more responsibility, and his academic background and experience endeared him to the financial brokers who backed the cruise line. He traded favors for stocks, and extra time served for promotions. Rather than setting for the instant gratification of a bonus, he deferred what they offered into something that would set him up for the future he wanted, independent of his parents’ fortune and all of the strings that were tangled up with it. 

The next time that Red and Martha ended up on the same cruise, he went to hear her perform on the main stage as the captain of the ship. He watched as she played the keys even more elegantly than before, and when she finished singing, it brought everyone to their feet. Red could see that the audience saw what he knew about his sister to be true: she was beautiful to look at and skilled. He was abundantly proud of what she had accomplished with her life, and how she was pursuing her dream. She had dazzled them and they were eating out of her hand. 

Applause rippled for minutes afterward, and Red watched as Martha made eye contact with the band’s saxophonist. A black man about Red’s age, the man smiled broadly at Martha, and joined in clapping, too. There was clearly chemistry between them, and Red was reminded of all of the things their father had said about race, class, and education. This man was not Martha’s equal and did not need to be fraternizing with her.

O’Rourke had left the performance troubled. But he and Martha didn’t run into each other for a few days. As captain of the ship, he had duties that kept him moving from station to station, and Martha usually stayed isolated with the musicians. When they did happen to meet one night, Martha was walking with the saxophonist around the upper deck. She introduced him to Red as her friend Charlie Watson. Red stiffly shook hands with the man, wanting to ask about their relationship, and too scared by what might erupt from his mouth if he started the conversation. They made small talk stiffly, and then they parted ways, few words spoken between them. It was clear to both men that neither liked the other, and Martha appeared frozen between them in their standoff.

Two years later, the brother and sister were on the same cruise again. By now, Red owned a group of the cruise ships, having invested his stocks and savings in the burgeoning cruise line. He was not captaining the ship, but serving as an advisor to the captain and giving feedback on what should happen during the cruise. He was free to move about the world, to see the sites, to learn things in places he wanted to learn. He had achieved the dreams he had since his teenage years and was experiencing the life he had longed to live. 

Late one night, he was passing by and heard the voice he knew so well singing inside on stage. He slipped into the back of the great room, watching the packed audience respond to the glorious tones pouring out of his sister’s mouth and settling in himself to soak up his sister’s gift. After the opening song, his stomach stiffened when he saw that Charlie Watson was now center stage with Martha. Martha sang back to back with Watson who was laying down riff after riff on the saxophone; later she was sitting atop the piano while Watson played, eyes on Martha the entire time. He knew he needed to keep a closer eye, to see where this was going.

Wandering to the front of the room, Red took a seat at an unoccupied table and listened. He was spellbound by the music the two were making, but his anger boiled at what was evidently more than a musical partnership. At the end of the first set, Martha bowed gently to the audience and Charlie planted a kiss on her lips as she waved to the audience. Throughout the evening, their music was magical, but their interaction was more than just a collaborative musical partnership. Everyone could see it. The two did an encore, with Charlie playing the saxophone while standing on top of the piano while Martha dazzled the keys, ending face to face, just inches away. In that moment, over Charlie’s shoulder, Martha saw Red, and her smile fell away as she saw the rage smoldering in his face. Red left without a word. 

In his stateroom, Red poured himself drink after drink. He admitted to Leo that he had been drinking since he left his parents’ watchful eyes, growing more and more tolerant of the alcohol, needing more and more to quiet the anger in his heart over feelings from his childhood. The disquiet he felt about his childhood and the loneliness that he’d experienced as he found no one equal to his status were overwhelming. At least when he was drinking, he could dull the feelings of depression and anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him during the day. 

That night, he drank more and more, but instead of softening his anger, it brought it to an overflowing boil. He raged within his stateroom about what he would say or do when his sister brought Watson up in conversation. He knew that he couldn’t let their family name be laughed at or ridiculed, because his father simply wouldn’t have allowed for that. He was expected to do something about it …There was a knock at the door, and when Red answered, Martha entered the room with Charlie beside her. 

Martha spoke quickly and assuredly about her love for Charlie and how they would be raising a family together. She was trying to answer Red’s unanswered questions, faster than he could fire them away at her. Finally, Red pushed back that their family would never include anyone of Charlie’s kind, that their parents would never allow it, and that Martha should know that kind of relationship was beneath her. He told her that she had disgraced her family, and that he would have none of it. That their parents would hear of this immediately. 

Up until that time, Charlie had remained quiet, clenching and unclenching his fists. But to accentuate his point, Red threw his glass, shattering it on the wall, and causing Charlie to move out of the way. Charlie was ready to leap at Red, but Martha forced him to stay still, gripping his hand like a vise. She cried out that she and Charlie loved each other, that she was pregnant with Charlie’s baby, and that they’d been married a year before that while spending a week ashore. Red could barely restrain a murderous rage that vomited up inside of him.

With no filter left, Red told Charlie exactly what he thought of him, and shoved him in the chest, banging home each point. Charlie had heard enough, and came back at Red in the stateroom, swinging away with his fists. Red was too inebriated to notice the pain Charlie caused as a few of the blows landed, but he returned swing after swing, landing one shot after another into the smaller man’s body, and ignoring everything else. When Charlie hit the floor, Red continued to pound away at him, leaning down to batter the defenseless man. He was so enraged, that he began banging Charlie’s head against the floor until he was unconscious, oblivious to Martha’s screams. When Martha tried to pull Red off of Charlie, he mindlessly backhanded her away from him. 

A crewmate passing by heard the commotion and ran for help. It took five of the members of the crew to pull Red off of Charlie. Charlie’s face was a mangled mess that hid his identity from any casual observer, and he was barely breathing. The crewmates debated about what to do until one finally went to find the ship’s doctor, Dr. Steinman. When the remaining crewmates turned to Martha, they found that she had slammed into the corner of the bookcase, and lost consciousness. By now, sobering up, Red was inconsolable, kneeling over Martha and wailing. The crew later told O’Rourke that he had sounded like a dying animal, and everyone had been scared to approach him.

The crewmates had taken Charlie to the infirmary but brought one of the ship’s doctors back with them. After a cursory examination, he determined that Martha had broken her neck during the impact, but she was still breathing. It appeared that the baby inside her was unharmed, a viable heartbeat still beating inside of Martha. The news at the time hardly registered with O’Rourke. He was so consumed by his guilt and shame over what he had done to Martha, that he couldn’t even process her impending motherhood. 

Because of Red’s status, the crew involved in what had happened were all sworn to secrecy, to not bring negative attention on the cruise ship line, paid to forget the night had happened. Charlie was quickly dropped off at a hospital at the next port, where he could receive necessary treatment, having signed an NDA for a momentous sum of money. He was still confused about what had happened, and couldn’t remember anything about the fight. Martha was unresponsive, and no one asked what should be done about their baby. Later, Red brought Martha back with him to Tranquility, refusing to tell anyone what had happened to her, caring for her in the mansion where she spent her days bedridden and unresponsive. Months later, David was born, and Steinman helped deliver him. Few people on the island even knew the end of the story.

47

“Can a man come back from that?” Red asked. “I allowed my prejudice to end a relationship. I beat a man nearly to death and I took my sister’s life away from her. Who could forgive that? I know I couldn’t if it happened to me! But to think that someone, some God, might forgive me for the evil that I’ve done? I don’t think there’s enough grace for that.” 

Leo had listened, quietly absorbing everything Red had said. He was shaken by the story, the momentary violence causing tragedy in several lives forever. Leo cleared his throat, and said, “I believe that everything can be forgiven. And then we choose to live differently.”

Red turned toward Leo, his face a roadmap of tears, all traces of his anger gone. “I gave up drinking that night, and I dedicated my life to caring for Martha. Seven months after that, when David was born, I swore I’d pay for his college education and that he’d always have a place to live.” 

“But then he decided to be friends with that other boy, and he broke my heart all over again.” Red groaned. Old prejudices died hard indeed, thought Leo. 

“It seems you’re putting an emphasis on who you think people should be in relationships with,” said Leo, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe if you stop worrying about controlling people’s love, and just try supporting it, you’d find a new way forward. Maybe love is bigger than how we define it ourselves.”

The look on Red’s face showed Leo that he wanted to argue, and he tensed his shoulders as if to rebuke Leo. But instead he closed his eyes, and sank back against the headboard. He was breathing deeply, and periodically his mouth moved like he was about to speak. It was hard in the dark to tell whether the man had finally had enough and given himself over to sleep. Leo figured that maybe some rest would help heal the man’s body, and his heart. 

Leo waited for a half hour, but Red never opened his eyes or spoke again. Figuring that he was dismissed, Leo quietly left the room, pulling the door shut. He stood in the second floor hallway for a few moments, trying to process the story he had just heard. He shook his head solemnly and walked down the stairs to the entryway. Miss Isabelle and Carol were in an animated conversation, and the dogs sat at their feet, looking from one to the other. Miss Isabelle stopped in mid sentence as Leo approached, and then reached out for him, putting her hand on his arm. Leo knew what was coming but he still wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, or sure what was his to say or not. 

“How did it go?” she asked. “Is he any better?”

Leo nodded. “I think he’s reflecting on his life a good bit. That tumble he took certainly shook him up.” It seemed safer to stick to the present than the past for Leo. He wanted so badly to help O’Rourke overcome his guilt and shame, but that wasn’t within his power to make magically happen. 

Carol fixed Leo a cup of warm tea, with a healthy dose of both honey and sugar. He tried to relax standing in the kitchen with the two women, but his mind was still stuck on O’Rourke’s past and his current predicament. Carol and Miss Isabelle prattled on to each other, oblivious to Leo’s silence. He finished his tea, and acknowledged their effort, before excusing himself to head back into town. 

After retrieving his raincoat, Leo headed out into the storm to walk back to the chapel. Reflecting on what he’d learned about Red, he was heartbroken about the hurt that had been caused, and he wondered if anything he said would provide the older man some form of closure. 

Back in town, Leo noticed that most of the shops and other businesses were locked up tight. The storm had pushed most of the tourists back onto their cruise ships or into temporary stayovers on the island. The Ocean’s Breeze was even buttoned up, with all of the lights out. Leo was sorry he wasn’t able to spend some more time talking with the islanders, but he wasn’t going to complain about a few moments of quiet to himself. He settled for a bowl of cereal for dinner, and stretched out on his bed, hoping to fall asleep. 

A crash outside in the sanctuary startled him from where he’d dozed off, and he slid both feet to the floor and cautiously opened the door. He didn’t quite know what to do if someone was up to no good, but he couldn’t in good faith let them destroy the sanctuary. The lights were off, but Leo could hear laughter and running feet in the sanctuary. He stepped out of the hallway and squinted. 

Wham! A forceful body had launched itself into his chest and he fell backward into the wall. He wasn’t so much hurt as startled, and his senses exploded as he recognized one of O’Rourke’s dogs as the culprit. Poseidon or Neptune, smelling like a dog that had been let outside for too long, was licking Leo’s face with its long, rough tongue. In the dark, the wagging tail caused the dim light of the stainglass window to appear to be flickering. 

How’d the dog even get into the chapel? Questioned Leo. He tried to pull the dog off of his chest but it was too excited to comply. Out of the dark, two figures materialized, and Leo saw that they were young men. 

“Sorry, padre,” one of them said, chuckling. “We didn’t realize that you were sleeping back there.”

The other youth elbowed the first one. “Why didn’t you tell me they found a new guy to be the pastor?”

They reached down and pulled the dog off of Leo. “We were just playing a prank on Red, putting his dog in the chapel. We’re sorry we scared you, mister,” said the second youth. 

“Who are you?” asked Leo, dusting himself off. His momentary fright was receding, and he was curious about what would make these two mess with Red and his property. 

The first youth sighed. “I’m Jimmy, and that’s Joe,” he said. “We’re the Momas. We sort of have a reputation for getting in trouble. But messing with ol’ Red is kind of our favorite pastime. Our dad worked for him on one of the cruise ships, and met our mom there. Red used to be Dad’s favorite but he hasn’t really helped Mom out since Dad died.”

The dog was quietly pawing at the door to the outside, and began to whine. “It sounds like you two need to take him home,” said Leo, trying to sound stern and only partially succeeding. “I expect to see you two in here tomorrow at 8 a.m., to help me make sure everything is in order.”

The boys looked sheepish but nodded their heads. Jimmy collected a makeshift leash from the back of the sanctuary and they left with the dog. Leo watched them disappear down the street, and closed up the doors to the sanctuary. The day had been incredibly informative, but not necessarily in a good way. Name it whatever they had, Tranquility Island was anything but peaceful.

Leo pulled off his wet clothes, now smelling like a dog, and fell into a fitful sleep marred by visions of violence and trouble.

Chapters 48-51 coming June 7!