Chapter Thirty

I watched in awe as the great beast lumbered into a takeoff, then circled back around. Coming in low, it skimmed its belly along the surface of the water, sucking up gallons and leaving a dragon’s tail of mist. I wished I could see the drop, but my view was obscured by a low range of mountains.

Saffron came back a while later, dressed in a miniskirt and Indian peasant blouse. She tossed me a doughnut and took over the radio. I wandered outside to sit on my favourite bench under the weeping willow and eat my breakfast.

There were several large boats at the government dock, not unusual for this time of year. I guessed they had chosen to tie up to keep out of the way of the water bomber and helicopters.

Houseboats were common, but my attention was drawn to an unusually large craft, at least twice the size of the others. I squinted to read the name stencilled on the bow but couldn’t quite make it out. As I watched, a man dressed in a grey suit stepped off the houseboat and walked directly towards me. I stiffened and looked around. There was no one nearby.

I tried to make myself small, ducking behind the elegant sweeping tendrils of the massive willow tree, but the man walked deliberately towards me, removing his sunglasses before squinting through the branches.

“Daisy? Daisy Shoemaker?” He was fiftyish, bushy eyebrows and greying hair. My skin pricked. I’d seen him before, but where?

“Sorry. Wrong Daisy,” I said. “I’m Daisy Ford. You’ve made a mistake.”

“I know who you are. There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

I could only sit and stare, frozen in place.

“I’m Bill.” The man inclined his head towards the large houseboat. “And my boss is waiting for you on board. Come with me.”

My first instinct was to run, but Bill reached in and placed a vise grip on my upper arm. “This way,” he said, pulling me to my feet. He was twice my size and easily propelled me towards the boat, just as the massive water bomber came in for another pickup. If I tried to shout, not a soul would hear me. All eyes and ears were drawn to the aerial ballet taking place in the bay.

Suddenly I remembered where I’d seen Bill before. He was the man who’d come looking for me years ago, the day of the pickers barbeque on the beach, when he’d offered money to the others for information about my whereabouts. My blood ran cold.

The Bishop had found me.

Bill guided me down the stairs from the dock to the boat, through an open door and down a narrow, low-ceilinged hallway. Bill knocked softly on a cabin door. It was opened by a nurse in the traditional white uniform and thick-soled shoes. She reached for me, pulling me into the room and shutting the door on Bill.

She spoke softly. “Your father is very frail. Don’t say or do anything to upset him. There’s not much time. His heart is failing. I’ve just given him an injection. He’ll rally for a while, but not for long.”

My jaw dropped. “My father? Dan Shoemaker? Not Bishop Thorsen?”

The nurse nodded, her mouth grim.

The room was dim, with the shades drawn and the lights very low. It smelled of strong disinfectant and eucalyptus. A large hospital bed dominated the room, and I could just make out a shadowy, white-haired figure lying inert in the bed. The only sound was the hypnotic sighs of an oxygen-condenser pump set on a low table by the bed.

A flash of light filled the room, and I turned just in time to see the nurse disappear into the hallway before darkness descended once more. I forced myself forward.

He moved. “Daisy? Is that you?”

My heart skipped a beat. I slowly approached the bed. He was partially sitting up, supported by a mound of pillows. His gaunt face had puffy, doughy bags under the eyes, and his skin was mottled with dark patches that looked like bruising. Thinning white hair was plastered to his head. Despite the oxygen tubes in each nostril, his breathing was laboured.

Images of a younger version of my father flashed through my mind. Dad, with a large, warm smile, gently tossing a ball to me, cuddling me as he read me bedtime stories, lifting me up to peer inside a bird’s nest, presenting me with a large stuffed teddy bear for my birthday. The memories brought a flood of warm feelings.

“It’s me, Daddy. I tried to find you after I escaped from Redemption—”

He lifted a shaky hand and tried to touch my arm. I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before carefully placing it back on the bed.

His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I wanted so much to see you, to talk to you while I still can. I hope Bill didn’t scare you. He tried to drop by the café last night to tell you I was here, but it was closed. He’s an old army buddy of mine—a private detective. He offered to help me try to find you. It’s been years, and he didn’t have much luck. Until you got a driver’s licence, then it was easy.”

First Tobias, now my father. I’d had no idea I’d be traceable so quickly.

The colour seemed to return to his face and his milky eyes brightened as the injected drug did its thing. “Come closer, let me see you. Turn up the light a little.” His voice had some strength now. I raised a dimmer switch on the wall and soft, golden light replaced the gloom. I leaned forward over the bed as my father studied me. “You look more like your mother than me. Lucky you.”

A million questions ran through my mind. Why did he leave Mom and me? What happened between him and the Bishop? But I knew I had to put my questions away for now. How long would his strength last?

“Daddy, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet before this. I didn’t know how to reach you. I even asked Miss Braid, but it’s really hard to find a houseboat.”

He was suddenly agitated, and I winced, remembering the nurse’s warning. “That’s the Bishop’s doing. I had no choice. It matters so much to me that you understand—that you don’t blame me.”

“I don’t blame you, Dad. I’m proud of you. You’re a war hero. I read an article about you. You helped free your fellow prisoners and led them to safety. Tell me what happened to you.”

“Help me sit up a bit better.” I pushed another pillow behind him for support. He coughed and cleared his throat. “I was hurt in the war, beaten and starved for organizing the escape. When I finally got back home after, I was lost, and I struggled. I was looking for a better way of life, a simpler way of life, guided by spirit. I thought I’d found it in Redemption. When I married your mom and we had you, I was the happiest man alive.”

He took a moment to rest, his eyes searching my face, as if he were looking for confirmation that I was really listening and accepting what he had to say.

I nodded, urging him on. “What changed?”

“Everything and nothing. Bishop Thorsen took over the leadership from his father. The son had a massive ego. He was greedy and power hungry. Seemed to have a lot of new revelations from God, or so he claimed.

“He proclaimed that everyone had to hand over their assets to support the community. People gave him everything or risked being excommunicated. Houses, cottages, farms, boats, vehicles, and businesses, they were all signed over to him.”

“What happened to it all?”

“The Bishop sold some of it for cash, which he pocketed. He reassigned homes and vehicles to the more worthy priesthood men who blindly followed his every word.” He said “worthy” like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

I leaned in closer. “Did he do that to you too?”

Dad paused, catching his breath one more time.

“I had poured everything into building up Shoemaker Forest Products. I worked hard, and it was a success. I think I knew deep down that I wouldn’t have a long life. My health was poor. I wanted to leave something for you, Daisy. Something to help you through life when I wasn’t there any longer.”

I had to suck back tears and force myself not to cry. He let out another long, ragged cough. A trembling hand brought a tissue to his mouth.

“Take your time, Daddy. Don’t tire yourself.”

“Bishop Thorsen wanted my business, but I refused to sign the transfer-of-ownership papers, so he and his thugs forced me out. Even though they didn’t own it, they took it anyway.”

“Did you go to the police?”

“I couldn’t. He threatened you and Ruth if I tried to do anything. He told everyone that I’d sold the company to him for a fair price, and I didn’t contradict him. I was forced to go along with the lie. He quietly cut all my employees’ wages, but he kept two sets of books, so no one knew.

“Once I left Redemption and became a nonbeliever, an apostate, Ruth’s father threatened her with a blood atonement if she ran away with me. My beautiful little family was torn apart.”

I reached across the bed and did my best to hug him despite the many lines and tubes running in and out of him. “I understand, Daddy. I really do. Mom explained it to me the best she could. She didn’t tell me what Bishop Thorsen did to you, but I know she loves you. She used to sneak off to see you in town, right?”

“She did, but one time we were almost caught. That was the last time we tried it.” Large tears began to roll down my father’s cheeks, but he made no move to rub them away. They left a spidery pattern across his powder-white skin.

I moved closer to the bed, ready to give him another gentle hug, but a slight shake of his head stopped me. His eyes gleamed bright with a sudden urgency.

“Daisy, I haven’t got long in this world.” He pointed to the table beside the bed and a blue velvet box. “Take that. It’s the deed to my sawmill and lumber business. When I’m gone, get back what’s rightfully yours. Don’t try to do it yourself, hire a lawyer. There’s no telling what Thorsen might do. The business is a moneymaker. He won’t give it up without a real fight—and he fights dirty.”

“Dad, I don’t care about deeds and money. I just want to be with you.” I held his hand as tears poured down my cheeks. “I just want to be a family again.”