56

As a crowd now gathered on the dock, Benjamin and Noah worked to fish the men and little boy out of the water, Agent Moore stepped forward with her badge held high. A few of the firemen and crewmen from the cruise ships helped pull them out of the water. The figure who’d run by had been Bobby, much to everyone’s surprise. Apparently, he’d launched himself off the dock, splitting the water like a needle to pull Bryan up from the water.

Steinman came out of the water last huffing and puffing. He was sputtering, angry and waterlogged, but the final embarrassment was that he was pulled out of the water by the duffle bag. The men on the dock hauled him out of the water by the bag still draped around him like a harness, his arms yanked high over his head so that his pale white belly was exposed for the world to see. The gun had been lost to the harbor itself, and the doctor-turned-drug dealer was harmless.

Looking up, Leo gulped in mouthfuls of fresh, salty air, and felt the sunshine fresh on his face. The wind had blown away every hint of cloud in the sky, and the bright rays from above felt like a reminder of how good life could be. It was a good day to be alive, even if he was a little soggy. 

Sitting on the dock, across from Steinman, who was under the watchful eye of Agent Moore, Leo shook his head in disbelief at the man’s fiery frustration. The sputtering doctor was still griping about the weather and the foolishness of living on the island, and complaining that the island’s new pastor had prevented him from escaping. Leo said, “I don’t think the island is too fond of you either, but no hard feelings over here.”

George and Betty Williams had little Bryan wrapped in a blanket, and he was gnawing away at a chocolate bar. They had found a matching blanket for Bobby, who was grinning from ear to ear, high-fiving the little boy over and over again to his delight. Apparently his old Navy diving training had kicked in when he saw what Dr. Steinman had done and he entered the water without thinking. He didn’t even look too sore for the effort either, as acting with purpose cured a bunch of the world’s ills. 

Leo walked over to where they were sitting, leaned against a dock pylon. “You saved Bryan’s life, Bobby,” said Betty, tears drying on her face. “I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you.” 

“This won’t repay you, sir,” said George, looking on. “But Betty and I are coming to build a boys and girls’ recreation center on the island, to help give the island some opportunities for its children. After what I saw today, I’d be thrilled if you’d be our first aquatics director.”

Bobby had been drying his hair and playing peekaboo with Bryan. At this, he stopped rubbing his head and looked up, “You want me to help with that?”

“Absolutely!” said Betty. “Do you think you could do that?”

Bobby looked up at Leo and grinned. “I think I could pull that off. Where in the world are you going to find space for that though, and funding?”

The Williamses looked at each other. “Well, this was supposed to be a surprise. But Mr. O’Rourke has agreed to invest in renovating the old library. It’s still going to have a library wing – named after your wife.”

Leo couldn’t tell why Bobby cried next – either out of joy or sadness – but he figured either way that Bobby was discovering that there was a purpose to his life, and that was a good thing. 

By now, the crowd had grown bigger on the dock, and Leo saw a mix of Tranquility residents and cruise ship tourists mingling. Out of the crush of people, Aggie pushed her way through to speak to Bobby, who grinned sheepishly and winked at Leo over Aggie’s shoulder. Isabelle, Red, David and Johnny were dispersed throughout the crowd, sharing their versions of what had gone down. The new rec center folks were talking to a diminutive woman who looked like she was crying, joyfully though. Standing sheepishly next to her were the Moma boys, indicating to Leo that the woman was their mother. Apparently she would be signing them up for whatever services the new center provided. 

Leo walked over and greeted the boys, who introduced him to their mother. “Mrs. Moma, I don’t know if you know this, but the boys both have some skills in the garden!” Leo shared. He thought Mrs. Moma would start crying all over again, as unused to positive feedback as she was for the boys. “Mr. Hammersmith out at the Farm could certainly use some able bodied help out there. Maybe you should take the boys out there in the next couple of days and see if he couldn’t hire them for some additional help.”

The little woman smiled up at Leo, and hugged the boys to her tightly. They squirmed a little but finally gave in. “I’ll do that, sir, and thank you,” she said. “They told me about your talk in the garden. Thank you for seeing them for who they are.”

Leo nodded, and patted the boys on the shoulder. Some of their friends ran up, including the trio of youth that Leo had played basketball with. Junior grinned at Leo from ear to ear, and high-fived him, before all five of them moved off to chat. 

Leo looked up at the sun overhead, and shook his head, a grin dawning. Nothing about the last few days had gone as expected, but what resulted was even better than any plan these people could have devised for themselves. All’s well that ends well, he thought, slipping away to see about a change of clothes.

57

Later, when Agent Moore had seen that Dr. Steinman was secured to the bench at the back of the ferry deck and Leo had changed out of his marina-soaked clothes, the two of them stood talking to Red, Miss Isabelle, David, and Johnny. 

Moore had just finished explaining how there had been signs of large quantities of drugs coming through a funeral home on the mainland that had been traced back to Tranquility. She explained how all of this had come to a head with the less than illustrious procession involving Richard Simon Culcutter IV’s funeral and the unclasped latch. The DEA office on the mainland knew that cruise ships were passing contraband back and forth, but they needed someone to figure out why Tranquility was a hub for this activity. Several feelers had been put out through the agency and someone had suggested that Red O’Rourke had once run a tight ship and might still have an ear to what was going on in the cruise ship circles. 

On his last trip to the mainland, O’Rourke had shared that he knew smuggling was occurring locally, having seen it happen on ships when he’d been a captain, and wondering why there’d been an uptick in suspicious behavior on the island. He hadn’t named Steinman when talking to the DEA, but he admitted that he’d been watching his former colleague with a closer eye over the last few months. Moore acknowledged his willingness to help again. “We couldn’t have wrapped this up without you.”

The older man turned red, and tried to look away but Miss Isabelle wasn’t letting him miss the moment. She smiled and patted his back while holding onto him with her good arm. 

“Hopefully, Tranquility can live up to its name now,” David piped up. “And maybe next time there’s trouble, Uncle Red will know to ask for some help instead of keeping it all to himself.” He hugged his uncle sideways, and O’Rourke hugged him back fiercely with his other arm. 

O’Rourke looked down, a tear threatening to drop from the corner of his eye. “Son, I should’ve trusted you to help with this. I should’ve trusted you with a whole lot more,” he said, wrapping David in a one-armed hug. In the other arm, Miss Isabelle smiled up at him, her right arm wrapped in gauze.  

“Well, I thank you all for what you did. A little bravery and maybe a little crazy, too,” Agent Moore said, elbowing Leo in the ribs. He grimaced. “Easy now, Agent. I’m still a little sore.”

Agent Moore didn’t look too apologetic as they all chuckled at Leo’s discomfort. He certainly didn’t fit what they individually would have expected from the village parson. Leo just shook his head and turned the subject to other stories, like Bobby’s new job or the opportunity that O’Rourke was taking to care for the next generation of Tranquility youth. They all thought that building up the next generation would go a long way toward avoiding another situation like Steinman’s. Moore checked her watch, realizing it was time to go, and shook each of the Tranquility residents’ hands and turned to Leo, “We’ll pull away when you’re ready.”

Leo nodded, turning to Isabelle and Red. “You certainly have a story to tell, don’t you?” he asked. They turned to each other, and quietly smiled. Red cleared his throat. “I think there may be a proposal that’s well overdue.” 

Miss Isabelle squeezed him with her good arm, and Red awkwardly received the high fives of David and Johnny. “Looks like you’ve got a wedding to help plan when you get back,” said David, excitedly. 

Leo chuckled. “Time will tell. No need to rush anything,” he said, with a wink. “I said I’d accompany Agent Moore until she’s met by another DEA agent on the mainland, so I better go.”

As the ferry pulled away, Leo and Moore looked back at the island, getting smaller and smaller. The salt spray had a certain appeal, but they were both thinking about the storm that had raged on the island, and the way it had almost ended so differently. 

58

When the ferry came around the corner of the mainland, Agent Moore stood up and looked toward the ferry landing. There were several people in black suits and sunglasses milling around, and they responded in unison when the first agent saw the ferry, like ants attracted to the scent of sugar. 

Captain Benjamin looked back at Moore, who winked and gave him a thumbs up. Leo was looking a little green, but with the inevitable end in sight, he swallowed hard and stood up next to her. 

“You finished your mission, Agent Moore,” he said, smiling weakly by her side. She looked more self-assured than she had earlier in the week on the island, the weight of her secret no longer burdening her. 

“We caught the bad guy, Leo,” she replied, patting his white knuckled grip on the ferry’s railing. Looking down at their quarry, she chuckled at how miserable Dr. Steinman looked, his smug certainty replaced by a frumpled man who thought he’d gotten away with murder and even a little profit. “‘And I would’ve gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids!’” she added, mimicking Steinman’s nasal whine. 

Leo just stared at her. “Scooby-Doo? Seriously? Where are you from anyway?” Moore muttered, shaking her head. 

With a bump, the captain had run the ferry into the dock, clearly even more anxious than normal at the sight of all of the federal officers milling around. The press had arrived too, with camera flashes and a few news station reporters sticking microphones into the faces of passing agents, some of whom brushed them away and others who stopped to answer questions. 

Moore and Leo helped Steinman to his feet. The man’s lab coat was no longer pristine white, after his quick dip in the island harbor, and a smear of color on one sleeve showed that he’d been a little seasick on the ride back. He grumbled at Moore as she unlocked his handcuffs from the ferry railing and then cuffed them again behind his back. “Doc,” she said, “it’s going to be a long day for you, so you might as well embrace the ride.”

As she walked Steinman to the ferry gangplank, a rotund middle-aged agent in an ill-fitting DEA jacket barged onto the ferry. “Moore, do you need any help? You finally caught him,” he was yelling, loudly enough that reporters were turning to look. 

Leo saw Gillian stiffen. “Dewey,” she muttered under her breath.

As Dewey tried to get onto the ferry to get his hands on Steinman, and Leo crossed the gangplank, their paths crossed awkwardly. Leo apologized and stepped to the side, but somehow his foot hooked Dewey’s, and the big agent started to lose his balance. A person of grace and beauty, he was not. 

As Dewey’s arms spiraled, hands flying everywhere, his face turned white as a sheet. Tilting forward, the man threw his shoulders back to try and regain his balance but overcompensated. He tried to call out for help, but no one could have reached him in time. As Moore looked on, her boss splashed into the water next to the dock. 

Apparently Dewey, sent to New England from one of the flyover states in the midwest, didn’t know how to swim. 

Looking from the splashing arms of her boss to the calm presence of Leo, who was dusting off his coat as if nothing had happened, Moore handed Steinman off to a pair of agents, who were barely concealing their laughter behind less-than-subtle coughs. She turned back to Dewey, tossing him an end of rope, as his hairpiece floated by her. 

Several junior agents had rushed over to help, and one of them even dove into the water, dragging a life preserver to their boss. Moore looked to see that the captain and first mate had gone about their business, like it was just a day at the dock, and now the first mate was even selling snacks out of the little shop. It looked like the New England ferryman didn’t figure you were much of their concern if you hadn’t paid for a ticket, and she couldn’t blame them.

Looking back at all of the reporters gathered around in the parking lot, Moore could only imagine what would happen when the news caught footage of Dewey flailing around in the water while several of his colleagues munched on popcorn, entertained. It was going to be another long week in the office, for everyone except for Dewey. 

Stifling a laugh, Moore fistbumped a few of the people from her office, accepting it as congratulations for capturing Steinman and also watching Dewey run over by the karma truck too, she was sure. She fished around in her bag and pulled out the remote access for her car, comforted by the technological beep that followed. It was good to be back on the mainland. 

After packing her luggage into the trunk of her personal car, Moore signed off on paperwork that provided a preliminary explanation of what had happened on Tranquility. She agreed to report the next morning at nine a.m. for a full debrief, and accepted the congratulations of her peers who understood what she had accomplished undercover. 

Finally extricating herself from the group of agents, Moore watched silently as Steinman was driven away in the back of an agency vehicle. She turned back to the ferry, looking for Leo, expecting an opportunity to thank him for his help both in the capture of Steinman, and whatever had happened on the gangplank moments before. 

“I haven’t seen him in a bit,” said Noah, when Moore asked. “Captain’s about ready to return with these folks though, so he best be hurrying up if he’s going back now.”

Moore looked around the parking lot, but couldn’t find Leo, and finally drove off, eager to get a shower and collapse on the couch with her dog and internet access.

59

Stepping off of the ferry a few hours later, the young man awkwardly pulled at his collar, clearly uncomfortable with its starch fit, and walked a little unsteadily across the gangplank in shiny new dress shoes. He thanked the first mate for helping him get his bags to the dock, hoping someone might be there to meet him. But when no one appeared, he asked the captain for directions, and set out on his way, leaving the captain and first mate behind to clean up the ferry.

As he walked up the ramp from the dock, the man took notice of the Ocean’s Spray Grille, Kauffman’s Bakery, and the other elements of small island life. He nodded politely to the people he passed, and stopped once to clear his glasses of the salty mist they had acquired. Island life would certainly require some adaptability, but he figured he was up for the challenge. 

Walking down Main Street, he paused for a moment in front of the infirmary, noticing that a sign had been posted announcing it was closed until further notice. He wondered what that could possibly mean for the health of the people on the island, but he pushed ahead toward his destination, eager to get to there and figure out what would come next. 

Arriving at the end of town he had been directed to, the latest arrival to Tranquility pushed open the chapel doors, and looked at the casting light and shadows that decorated the walls of the sanctuary. It truly was a beautiful sanctuary, if not simpler than many of the churches he had worshiped in over the last twenty or so years. At the front of the chapel, he saw a little woman, her one arm bandaged and held by her side gingerly, and a big redheaded man who was helping her put out some garland and flowers. Another woman was gently warming up on the piano and a little man with a thin mustache was setting out paper bulletins, and lighting candles. They looked expectantly toward him as they heard his tread down the carpet. 

“Can we help you?” the big man asked. “I’m Red and this is Belle, er, Isabelle. We’re actually preparing for a wedding!”

“I’m terribly sorry,” said the man, “I know I’m running behind. But there was a hang-up on some of my paperwork and I was supposed to be here a few days ago. I thought you would be expecting me. Did you not get my message?”

Red and Miss Isabelle looked at each other, and then back to the man quizzically. The other man and woman had drawn closer to find out what was going on. They all waited expectantly, not suspiciously, for what the newcomer would say next. 

“Well, I was hoping that you could show me the way to my rooms,” said the man, clearly thinking that it should’ve been obvious, lifting his bags in hand. When they didn’t respond, he added,  “I’m the new pastor.”

The End…