The morning dawned with a sullen, gray light. Thick blue-black cumulus clouds covered the sky, signaling the shift of seasons. Spring would come soon, but it had not yet arrived. The water moved in heavy, unshining waves, striking the ferry with slow thuds. Nearly all the ice was gone, melted or blown north of Death’s Door. There were only a few remaining white cliffs of ice shoved up against portions of the shorelines. A stiff wind kept the ferry crew moving quickly and without much conversation. Passengers stayed in their cars with the engines running and the heaters on.
On the second trip, before heading back, Pali stayed on deck as long as possible, dawdling with unnecessary tasks. Young Joe was in the pilot house. He had just passed his licensing test to be a captain. It was Pali’s helm today, but Pali was giving him the space to garner a sense of being in command, not always an easy thing for a young man. At two minutes to the hour, Pali headed up the stairs to the wheelhouse, taking the steps two at a time, using the railings to balance himself. As he crossed the upper deck, Pali could see Young Joe through the windows, standing at the helm. He went quickly up the several steps, opened the door, and stepped into the warmth. It was a relief to be out of the wind. He hadn’t realized how thoroughly chilled he was. He remembered suddenly, and with pleasure, the thermos of coffee he had tucked into a corner.
Young Joe looked up, and nodded.
“You can take her out,” Pali said, as Joe began to step back for him.
The engines started their slow rumble, and Joe stood at the pilot’s wheel looking ahead, his face alight with pride and pleasure. He had a beginner’s sense of extra caution, and he was doing everything by the book, his whole body on alert like a young dog out hunting for the first time.
As they passed the shelter of the breakwater and headed into open water, suddenly Joe stiffened. Pali could see it happen.
“You all right, Joe?”
Joe did not answer. He seemed frozen at the wheel. Pali could see his face from the side. Joe’s eyes were focused straight ahead, a look of shock or fear on his face.
“Joe,” said Pali again. “You okay?” Pali stepped forward instinctively to take the helm, but Joe held fast to the wheel, and Pali, concerned about his young crewman, but with his duty always first in his mind, debated whether to push Joe aside and take over. The ship, though, was clearly in no danger, and although he stayed near and on alert, Pali did not force the situation.
After what seemed like forever Pali saw Young Joe’s body relax. Joe’s head went down for a moment, and then he looked up again, taking deep breaths.
“Joe,” said Pali. “Are you sick? What’s going on? You have to tell me.”
“Joe! Answer me!”
Joe took a deep breath and spoke, his eyes still ahead. “I felt it, Captain,” he said with an odd formality. “I felt it.”
“You felt what?” Pali was beginning to be impatient. “Come on, Joe. Out with it! Talk some sense.”
Joe turned his head and looked straight into Pali’s eyes. “The ghost. I felt the ghost. I felt his hand on my shoulder. Just like you said.”
Pali said nothing, unable to gather his thoughts. He did not ask any questions. He didn’t know that he was silent, or that he was standing and staring. Joe was invisible to him in that moment, and he felt he was alone in the pilot house.
A change in the light made Pali shift his gaze. He saw a faint gleam ahead, and in one swift moment, a shaft of sunlight pierced the blue clouds and hit the water. The lake was alight with blue gleaming, changing the bleak landscape in an instant. In that moment, as if a switch had been flipped inside his brain, Pali felt an old insistent rhythm. In that flash of sun, the lines of his poems—not one or two, but all of them—formed in his mind with crystalline clarity and played their soft music in his head and heart. They were not lost. They were all there, one after another, spinning their lines unceasingly. Immersed in their music, Pali watched as the wind broke the clouds for one more moment of light. It glimmered in a straight golden line from the open sky to the water, and then, in the next second, it was gone.
Pali stood still. He felt his heart beating within him. He looked ahead at the shifting, blue-gray waters that a moment before had sparkled in the sun. The Island was ahead, serene in the soft light of a cloudy morning. He felt the slow diffusion of emotion in his chest, his arms, his body, and he knew in that moment that all was well. He was bathed in a tide of gratitude.
He put his hand on the shoulder of his helmsman.
“I’ll take her, Joe,” he said. The two men, no longer separated by age, looked into one another’s eyes with mutual understanding. Joe stepped back to make room for his captain.
His mind resonant with the rhythms of his words, Pali took the ferry’s wheel in his two hands and turned his eyes toward home.
The sound of the Skype ring woke Fiona from a deep sleep. She wasn’t sure at first where she was until she realized she had fallen asleep on the couch. As she moved her head, she caught the faint smell of barn in her hair.
“Hey,” said Pete. “Guess what?”
“What?” Fiona’s voice croaked a bit.
“I’m taking some time off. I’ve been accumulating it for a while now.”
“And you’re coming here?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Fiona smiled sleepily. “I guess I will. Will you be here for my swearing in?”
“That depends. I’m flying out tomorrow. I’ll be there in three days—depending on how you count.”
“That gives me time to get some food in the house.”
“And to throw away the black bananas.”
It was after nine o’clock when Pali went in to say good night to his son. Ben was sitting up in bed with only a reading light on, his book face-down on the blankets, the new badge in animal husbandry proudly displayed above the desk nearby. He was wearing one of Pali’s old t-shirts, still far too large for him, and a disreputable but beloved pair of sweatpants. The edges of his hair were wet from washing, and he smelled of soap and toothpaste. Pali felt again the sweep of gratitude he had felt that morning. He sat without speaking on the edge of his son’s bed. “Dad,” said Ben, after a moment.
“Yes?”
“Dad, I’ve got to tell you something.” Ben paused and shifted his position, gathering his courage.
Pali, aware that there was some struggle going on, waited, patiently, as he would if there were a wild animal he didn’t want to frighten.
Ben took a deep breath, and turned his eyes on his father.
“You know how we take the oath in Boy Scouts? The oath to be morally straight?”
Pali nodded solemnly, but said nothing. He thought he had an inkling of what was coming.
“Dad, I’ve got to tell you something. And you’ve got to believe me. I swear I’m not making this up.”
Pali frowned slightly. This was not going in the direction he had expected. He had expected some confession involving the other night’s mishap. He knew most of the story already from Jim, but he had been waiting to hear Ben tell it.
“The other night, on the lake…” Ben swallowed. He was about to jump off an emotional precipice, and he hesitated for long seconds as his father counseled himself to silence. “Rescuing the goat… . Something happened.”
Pali turned his full attention to not showing any reaction. Whatever this was, he wanted Ben to know he could say it. He sat very still, trying not to deter this confession by showing his own feelings.
“There was someone there, Dad. Someone helping me. At least… . I think it was someone.”
Pali felt his breath stop.
“I didn’t see anyone. But I felt him. I felt a hand. I felt someone pulling me out of the water; helping me pull the goat out of the water.”
Pali did not move or stir, his eyes fixed on his son’s face. He noticed suddenly something he hadn’t seen until now. The chubby sweetness was almost gone. The brow and cheekbones were gaining definition. It wasn’t the face of child anymore.
“I didn’t see him. I don’t know who it was. But it was a feeling. I knew it. I knew he was there the whole time. He helped me find Ms. Campbell. He was with me the whole time.”
There was a long silence as Pali tried to adjust his mind to what his son had just told him.
“Dad?” Ben’s face was worried, fearful. “Do you believe me?”
At last Pali could breathe. He put his hands on Ben’s shoulders, and looked into his son’s eyes. “Yes, Ben,” he said. “I believe you.”
As with so much of life on the Island, any occasion was an event to be turned into a gathering of the entire community. Fiona was duly sworn in at the town hall, a ceremony that took place in front of the long folding tables where the ballots had been counted. The familiar smell of brewing coffee mingled with the scents of the various baked goods arrayed across the back of the room.
As the ceremony ended, Lars Olafsen came up to Fiona, took her hand and placed a quarter in it. “I have something for you,” he said. His eyes twinkled. “It’s the coin I tossed the day you won. I thought you might like it.”
“Thank you,” said Fiona. “I’m going to need some luck.”
The outgoing chairman smiled knowingly, and patted her shoulder before drifting into the crowd. He was soon replaced by his fellow citizens, all eager to shake their new chairwoman’s hand and begin to tell her their complaints.
Among the last to offer congratulations was Emily, who came up to Fiona in the parking lot outside the community room.
“You’ll have your hands full, now,” warned Emily, after she had shaken Fiona’s hand. “But I want you to know that we are here as a resource for you. When you find yourself over your head—even if it’s something as simple as advice on Island culture, you just give me a call.” Fiona smiled rather weakly and made her thanks. “We’ll see you later at Nelsen’s, but first we need to get home to the chores. There’s so much to do, you know!” With a final pat on Fiona’s arm, she headed off.
As Emily pulled away, Fiona noticed that there was a new bumper sticker on the back of the gleaming, black SUV. It said: “If you think you are the solution to all the Island’s problems, do us all a favor and go back where you came from.” Watching her drive off, Fiona considered the wisdom of this advice.
As the festivities ended, people naturally gravitated to Nelsen’s, and the usual group of Fiona’s closest friends and supporters gathered at the bar. Fiona was swept around the room, moved from one group to the next. Pete, who had arrived only that afternoon, watched her passage for a moment before heading off to find some familiar faces.
There was a celebratory feeling in the air, assisted by the growing conviction that spring had finally arrived. The conversation was buoyant and filled with laughter. Eddie was at the ready, shelves of glasses and bottles filled with various elixirs sparkling behind him.
“Gentlemen,” he said, in greeting, as Pali and Pete stepped up to the bar at the same time.
“Eddie,” said Pali, with great good cheer. “It’s been a good day. And all because you got your demons. Even though they were in blue uniforms rather than black cloaks.”
Eddie grinned. “Blue uniforms and an orange jumpsuit. I couldn’t have written a better libretto.”
Pali turned to Pete. “I can’t help having the feeling that you had something to do with the way things turned out. But I don’t know how you did it.”
Pete shrugged modestly.
“Let’s just say that Representative Hillard made some remarks at his town hall event that suggested to me that he was not a model citizen. You remember. He asked me to step outside.”
In response to a call from a customer further down the bar, Eddie held up his hand to acknowledge an order and leaned in to hear Pete’s story. The bar was noisy, and Pete’s voice was low. “After he inquired about procuring some… paid companionship… I suggested to a friend of mine in law enforcement that he might be a person of interest. The good Assemblyman did the rest.”
Pali looked puzzled.
“Paid companionship? What the Hell was that about?”
“Stella,” said Eddie calmly. “She was spreading the story all over the island. Didn’t you know?”
Pete took up the story. “Apparently, his loving aunt had informed him that Fiona and I were involved in an international prostitution ring, and he was interested in our services. That was why he wanted to talk to me that night.”
Pali’s face turned red with anger. “She was saying that?” He looked at Pete, furious. “I would have slugged the guy. And possibly Stella, too.” He looked down at his glass. “Still might,” he muttered under his breath.
Pete finished folding his bill around a tack and a quarter. There was a pause as he was visibly wrestling with some thought. “Actually, not slugging that guy may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. What a slime-slash-scum bag he is.”
Eddie smiled as he wiped the bar. “Jake sure called that one.”
“So, what actually happened was perfect justice,” said Pali, still musing. “It was Stella’s own rumors that triggered the whole series of events leading to Hillard’s felony charges and her car being impounded. That, I believe, is the very definition of karma.”
“And the drugs,” added Eddie, with satisfaction. “Don’t forget the drugs.”
Pete grinned. “Well, I couldn’t have foreseen that one. But every once in a while the right thing happens. Fate just needs a little assistance now and then.”
Pali nodded with ungrudging respect.
Eddie was thinking. “So you have a friend in law enforcement?” he asked.
Pete nodded. “An old friend in Chicago. We went to school together, and he’s with the FBI. Hillard’s questions made me think he might be interested in our Assemblyman’s activities.” He smiled reminiscently. “And he was. Fortunately, the good Assemblyman cooperated by being even worse than I suspected.”
Pete flung the little bundle he had made at the ceiling with an artful flick of the wrist, and ducked to avoid the falling quarter.
Pali caught the coin in one hand, slapped it on the bar and started chuckling.
“What’s the joke?” Eddie was mixing old-fashioneds at remarkable speed.
“He is,” said Pali tipping his head toward Pete.
Pete looked at him inquiringly.
“You’re the source of the whole thing,” said Pali. “You really are the deus ex machina.”
Pete smiled modestly and shrugged.
Eddie looked at Pali over the bar and their eyes met in a moment of mutual satisfaction. They were both profoundly pleased with themselves.
Eddie stopped his work, put his hands on the bar emphatically, and looked at Pete.
“Commendatore,” he said, almost hearing the music from the operatic finale in his head. “I salute you!” He slid the drinks he had been making across the bar to waiting hands, and turned his attention back to Pali and Pete. “What’ll it be? It’s on me.”
“Brandy,” said Pete. “Thanks.” He turned to Pali. “And I’ll buy one for you. What’ll you have?”
“The same,” said Pali.
Eddie put their glasses before them and poured one for himself. The three men looked at one another and raised their glasses.
“Skal!” said Pali.
“Skal!” said the others. And they drank.
Later that evening, Fiona and Pete were walking on the rocks along the shore where the goat rescue had occurred. The ice had almost gone, making its slow shifting shapes and eerie clunking sounds. It was a chilly spring evening, with a brisk wind coming from the water, but the frogs were singing, and the sky was clear. Fiona shivered, and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.
Pete was absently skipping stones into the waves, in the open places where the ice chunks had drifted away. There was a waxing moon, and its light on the water was enough to see by.
“You know,” said Fiona to Pete, “you can’t go through life rescuing me from situations.”
“I was about to tell you the same thing,” said Pete, mischievously.
Fiona was indignant.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“True,” said Pete, as he sent a stone skimming out, with two full skips.
“I didn’t even know where you were or how to reach you.”
“Also true.”
“And even if I had known, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“As I suspected.”
“So?”
“So?” he echoed.
“So you can hardly advance the theory that I was waiting to be rescued.”
“No, actually that is not my theory.” Pete was crouching on the beach, engrossed in sorting out the best stones for skipping. “My theory is that you needed to be rescued. A small, but vital difference.” He stood up, and took aim. His stone sailed over the water with five skips.
“Maybe I could have won all by myself.”
“Maybe,” said Pete seriously. “Your turn.”
Fiona accepted the stone he handed her, smooth and flat, and sent it off into the water. She got one skip, and shrugged, smiling.
Pete was bent down again, hunting for more stones. “Is it so hard for you to admit that you needed me?” he asked, looking up at her. “That I could be helpful to you?” He gathered a handful of carefully chosen stones and stuffed them into his pockets. “Is it so hard for you to understand that I might want to be needed? Or that I could enjoy helping you?”
Standing, he looked at her, his head tilted to one side, and tested the weight of one of the larger stones, tossing it up and down in his throwing hand. “Isn’t that the whole point of being in love with someone? To need and to be needed?”
Fiona looked at him astonished. Pete seemed to her—as he had seemed from the very start—to be someone utterly complete and self-sufficient. Not someone who needed someone else.
“Are you saying that you need me?” she asked.
“I’m saying that I love you, silly ass,” said Pete. He sent his last stone skimming over the water with one, two, three, four, five, six skips before it sank beneath the waves. “And I’m also saying that your throw is sloppy. You need to work on your wrist action. If you’re going to live on an Island, you have to be able to skip stones. It’s a known requirement.” He brushed off his hands with an air of finality. “I win. Madame Chairman, you owe me a drink.”
Fiona smiled at him, a slow, warm smile. “You’re in luck. I have a flask in the car—a victory gift from Nancy. Is bourbon okay?”
“Perfection.” He smiled back. “No ice.”
Fiona was already on her way up the little hill to the car, and called over her shoulder. “Don’t go away.”
“I won’t,” said Pete. And turning his back to the water, he stood, hands in pockets, to watch her go.