Eighty-one degrees. The day foretold a hot New Rochelle summer, and it was only the second week in May. Dillard lay shivering under a comforter and wool blanket. Emilia Mae sat on his bed and took his icy hands in hers. “Raynaud’s,” she said, gently massaging his fingers. His skin was gray, and his fingers so thin she was afraid she’d break them. Not Raynaud’s.
“Raynaud’s,” said Dillard, trying to smile. The eyes glowed. All the other features had sunk into his face. Beneath the blankets, Dillard wore one of Earle’s ancient cashmere sweaters and a pair of sweatpants. Still cold.
Geraldine and Alberto came that afternoon, he with a Tupperware container filled with pureed lentils and squash, she with a bag full of shortbread. “I know you can’t eat these, but I thought you might like to smell them.” She’d held the bag under Dillard’s nose. He’d made a smacking sound with his lips.
“I know,” she said. “You’ve always loved them.” She came closer and whispered, “You made Emilia Mae very happy for a while. Truth be told, I never got over that she snagged someone as handsome as you.” She paused as something caught in her throat. “You know, you made me happy, too.”
The Kleppers came two mornings later. Dillard’s eyes were closed but he squeezed Cora’s hand when she said, “We love you.” Aloysius stood at the foot of the bed. “Rest easy, my friend,” he said. Cora swore she saw Dillard nod.
The saying goodbye was beginning. Geraldine came every day. Sometimes, she told him gossip about people he might remember from the bakery; other times she sat next to his bed quietly. When Alice came, she’d sing to him, mostly songs they’d sung together. He opened his eyes for a moment when she said, “It looks as if I’m going to have this baby on May twenty-eighth, your birthday.”
They all talked about these things—his hand squeezing, his nodding, his brief opening of the eyes—as if they were signs that Dillard was coming back. Geraldine swore he smiled when she told him that the old Neptune Inn had been turned into a whorehouse, and Alice thought she’d heard him hum a bit when she sang “Someone to Watch over Me.” In his kind way, Carl tried to put them on a steady course: “Whatever is wrong with him doesn’t have a name. I’m afraid it has no cure, either.”
Whatever was wrong with him claimed him quickly and cruelly.
Dillard died surrounded by Emilia Mae, Alice, Geraldine, Cora, and Aloysius. When it was over, Aloysius spoke for all of them when he said, “I think he knew he died at home.”
Dillard had left Alice an envelope labeled TO BE OPENED UPON MY DEATH. It was a single sheet. His Selmer flute and his father’s antique instruments were to go to Alice. Whatever money he had left—“it won’t be much”—was to go toward an education for Alice’s daughter: “NEC, maybe?” Emilia Mae would get the old Formica table he’d taken from their kitchen, and “anyone who wanted anything else should take it.”
He wanted to be cremated. If there was a service, Aloysius should perform it, and he’d be “much obliged” if Alice would sing something. Otherwise, he wanted his ashes scattered in Skyville. He wrote down Sharlene Moore’s phone number. “Call her, she’ll know where to put me.”
They waited until a month after Alice had her baby girl, Linden, and before dawn on a day in late June, Emilia Mae, Alice, and Geraldine left for Skyville. Alice had contacted Sharlene, who would meet them when they arrived. Emilia Mae got driving instructions from the AAA and borrowed Dave’s Chevy Malibu wagon. After they settled in the car, with Emilia Mae behind the wheel, Geraldine in the front seat, and Alice in the back, Geraldine pulled the urn out of her shopping bag. Black metal, in the shape of a vase, it had a silver treble clef on one side, underneath which she’d had engraved DILLARD FOX MAY 28, 1931–MAY 16, 1981.
“Don’t you think a simple urn would have done the trick?” asked Emilia Mae.
“He was a musician, after all,” said Geraldine.
“Sure, but—”
Alice interrupted by poking her head between the two of them. “Mom, Grandma, we’re on the way to bury Dillard, who happens to be right here.” She tapped on the metal urn. “Can you at least lay off each other until we get the deed done?”
Emilia Mae and Geraldine smiled at each other, and Alice continued talking. “The way Dillard described Skyville, I’ll bet it’s gorgeous. He always talked about the mountains, the flowers, the way it smelled. I can’t wait to see it.”
Geraldine held the urn in her lap. “This was the right thing to do, bringing him here.”
“It was,” said Emilia Mae. “Thanks for coming with us.”
They hit Skyville late in the afternoon. Sharlene Moore had told them to meet at her house and she’d take them to the appropriate place. They drove through town, expecting the smell of columbine and jasmine, the soft mists. Instead, the streets smelled of fried chicken and hamburgers and were dotted with Wendy’s, Chick-fil-A, Hot Diggity Dawg, Sky’s the Limit Souvenirs. Billboards were everywhere advertising God (I’VE BEEN HERE ALL ALONG), promising the messiah (JESUS: COMING SOON), and threatening damnation (HELL IS FOREVER. DON’T BE A FOOL, GET SAVED. 822-3344).
“This sure as hell doesn’t look like Brigadoon to me,” said Geraldine.
“It is pretty tacky,” said Emilia Mae.
Alice noted that Dillard said the town had become more touristy than when he’d lived there.
As they drove up to the old log house, a woman in bare feet, a long floral skirt, and a man’s shirt tied at the waist came out to the front porch. “Hey, welcome to Skyville,” she said.
The three Wingo women squinted in the sun as they stepped out of the car. “You must be Sharlene,” said Alice.
They introduced themselves and shook hands. Geraldine was still holding on to the urn, which she held out in front of Sharlene. “This is Dillard.”
Sharlene stepped back. “Yes, we’ve met. Why don’t you come in and have some iced tea?”
“I’d love some,” said Alice. Emilia Mae shook her head. “Thank you, but I think we should do what we came to do now, before the sun sets, and if the offer still holds, iced tea after?”
“Sure thing,” said Sharlene. “I’ll run in and get my keys, then y’all follow me in your car.”
Sharlene led them through some back roads where phlox were blazing and the coneflowers were bursting. They drove a little farther until they came to a lake. Lake Lure, the sign said. Sharlene parked in the lot and got out of her car, and the four of them walked to the lake’s edge. The sun was low in the sky, and the water reflected magenta and orange. Canoers and kayakers churned the lake, and the air smelled like fresh, sweet summer, just as Dillard had said. Sharlene kept moving a few steps to the left, then a couple of feet to the right.
“Are you trying to find something in particular?” asked Emilia Mae.
“Gotta find the spot,” said Sharlene.
Finally, she planted her feet on the muddy shoreline. “This is it.”
They stood in a clump and looked to each other for what to do next. “We should say something,” said Geraldine. “We can’t just dump him here.”
Emilia Mae remembered what Aloysius had said in the small service they’d held for him at the church. “Time takes and gives,” she said softly, paraphrasing his words. “Time took Dillard, but not before he gave all he could to those around him. To me, he gave love and comfort when I most needed it. He became the father Alice never had and nourished her gift of music. He gave my mother…hmm, he gave my mother whatever the hell she wanted. Go in peace, Dillard.”
They all stared at Geraldine, still holding the urn. “Uh-uh, I’m not doing this.” She handed it to Emilia Mae, who handed it to Alice. They’d been told to bring a screwdriver and nail polish remover to unseal the urn. Alice worked the screwdriver around the hardened epoxy. When she finally got it open, she carefully removed the plastic bag filled with ashes. She thought to sing something, but why sing when the sound of the water lapping against the shore was as pretty as any song? Besides, this was Dillard’s place, not hers.
Sharlene told her where to stand, then put her hands onto Alice’s shoulder and turned her slightly to the left. “There, throw them in that direction.”
Alice opened the bag and tossed its contents. The ashes fluttered over the water like a swarm of dragonflies and fell into the lake just in front of the floating dock.
Sharlene clasped her hands together and whispered, “Here he comes, Nicky.”
Emilia Mae took Sharlene’s hand and squeezed it. Alice rested her head on Emilia Mae’s shoulder, and Geraldine linked her arm with Alice’s. That’s how they stood until the sun set and the color faded from the water.