20

 

The man wasn’t especially tall, but he was built solid as a cement wall. I’m sure it would’ve taken two hand-holding adults to encircle his girth. I didn’t need to see his face to recognize Danny-Boy Murdock.

“I wanna talk to you,” he said.

“About what?” Geoff sounded as unnerved as I felt.

Danny-Boy clicked his heels, drawing my attention to his signature, tasseled loafers. He was known to wear them with everything from his kilt to his shorts. Presently he wore a rumpled suit. “I can’t very well approach Carrie myself,” he said.

I silently agreed. That would not have gone well.

Geoff said, “I’m not sure what that has to do with us.”

“He was my friend.”

Danny-Boy looked so miserable, standing there with his head hanging down.

“I’m sorry Carrie’s so hard on you,” I said.

“I don’t blame her. I haven’t exactly behaved like a friend.” He stepped closer, his slurring words floating on a cloud of whiskey fumes. “And the last time I saw Claude I was a horse’s fanny.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell us?” Geoff asked.

“I wanna talk to Gailynn, here, and ask her to talk to Carrie for me.”

“And say what?” I asked incredulously.

“That I’m sorry. That I never meant to hurt Claude—neither time. I know we argued and kibitzed around, but we were friends. She’s gotta believe that.”

“I don’t think she does,” I said.

Danny-Boy’s massive shoulders drooped. “She’s got you believing I’m a criminal, too?”

“I have no idea if you’re a criminal. Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. But I’m not going to be able to convince her one way or the other. That’s up to you.”

“How am I gonna do it when she won’t even talk to me?”

I shook my head. I had no idea.

“If I was parade marshal, maybe then she’d see I’m only trying to help.”

Geoff gave Caber’s leash a sharp tug. He’d been about to water Danny-Boy’s shoe.

“Bad idea.” Geoff could have been talking to Danny-Boy or the dog.

“Why not? I know Carrie’s gonna stew over who’ll take Claude’s place as parade marshal. Other women might forget about something like that, but not our Carrie. She’s conscientious to the nth degree, and we all know Hum Harbour Daze is her baby.”

“You taking Claude’s place would be disastrous.”

“Listen, I know I can’t replace him, not in any true sense, but I could fill in for him. I know how important it was for Claude to support Carrie’s projects. That man loved his wife.”

“I’m afraid the committee’s already nominating Claude’s replacement. It’s just a matter of hearing whether or not that person accepts.”

Technically that was true. Once I went home and tabulated the votes and asked whoever came out on top whether they’d accept the position, it was just a matter of waiting for their answer.

“I see,” said Danny-Boy. “In that case, I guess I’ll head home.” Danny-Boy lived a good hour away.

Geoff placed a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not driving are you?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“You’ve been drinking—”

“One,” he said defensively. Whether he meant one drink or one bottle was up for debate.

“The police’ll be out in full force,” Geoff said. “I have a futon. You could sleep there.”

Danny-Boy brushed away his hand, and his offer. “I’m good. Really. I’ll just take my time. Cops won’t even notice me.”

There wasn’t much else we could do, short of calling the police ourselves, so we let him go. Geoff walked me the rest of the way home and he and Caber bid me goodnight at my door. I didn’t invite them in. Sheba would eat Caber. Not that she’s a nasty cat. It’s just that Caber was so plump and droopy and irresistibly mild mannered, he wouldn’t stand a chance against my twenty-three pound huntress.

I locked myself and my cat in for the night, made a pot of Mimi’s herb tea, lit a few candles, and treated my cold, weary bones to a bubble bath. I left checking my emails and the entire Hum Harbour Daze parade marshal issue for the morning.

 

****

 

Basset howls can raise the dead.

At least they raised me from a dead sleep.

Despite my bath, it had taken a good hour to squelch thoughts of Claude’s memorial, Claude’s widow, and Claude’s rival, but I’d finally fallen asleep. And now, thanks to Claude’s dog, I was awake again. I hugged my pillow over my head, but it had little effect. I could still hear Caber’s forlorn, hair-raising howls. With two pillows crammed over my head, I could barely breathe, but Caber’s howls still came through loud and clear. Why wasn’t Geoff quieting the wretched animal?

I kicked off my bed covers. Pulling my oversized hoodie over my pajamas as I let myself out onto my deck, I didn’t stop to consider what I planned to do about the noise. Probably stomp across the bridge and bang on Geoff’s door until he smothered the dog.

Not really.

But what I found—once my eyes were opened and focused—silenced me.

Geoff sat on the deck, back against the building’s stone wall. Caber huddled between his legs, howling his little heart out, while Geoff rubbed his ears. It wasn’t calming him, of course. And sitting there with his eyes closed and the dog’s deafening howls ringing in his ears, he wasn’t aware that I was there watching tears run down his stubbled cheeks.

I hesitated, not sure whether to sneak away and let them grieve in private or offer comfort neither probably wanted.

Without opening his eyes Geoff said, “It’s OK.”

“I’m sorry.”

He held out his hand, and I hurried to accept it. I plunked down beside him, my head against his shoulder, and cradled his hand in both of mine. Acknowledging my presence, Caber rested his chin on Geoff’s thigh, finally quiet.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re my only neighbor,” Geoff said. Downtown Hum Harbour, with its drafty old stone buildings overlooking the wharf, was not prime residential territory.

“I see why Carrie can’t sleep once he gets started.”

Geoff caressed Caber’s long ear. “Didn’t he howl when you were there?”

“He snored and hogged the bed. Does that count?”

“I guess he likes you.”

“Or, maybe he only howls with folks he’s comfortable with.”

A quiet chuckle shook Geoff’s shoulders. “Aren’t I lucky?”

I could see the red rims of Caber’s eyes as he gazed up at Geoff. Grief and hope, as though he half-expected Geoff to transform into his beloved master. Wouldn’t that have been a great trick? An instant answer to all his sorrows.

“I called the cops,” Geoff said. “I thought about it when we came in. About Murdock driving home in the fog after drinking who knows how much. I did nothing for Claude, and look how that ended up.”

Danny-Boy would not appreciate Geoff’s concern, we both knew that, but I was glad Geoff had made the call. “Did you hear anything back?”

“No. And I don’t expect to.”

Silence. I didn’t know what time it was. No moon or stars. No ripples from the shifting tide. No pre-dawn birds. Not even a car engine in the distance.

It was over a year since Geoff had returned from Somalia, and, for the most part, he’d easily slipped back into Hum Harbour’s quiet routines. But there were times when his experiences returned to haunt him. Sometimes he let me join him. As if by holding my hand, he could keep the most unpleasant memories at bay. When he was quiet, like he was now, I knew he was losing the battle.

I patted Caber’s head, suddenly wishing he’d fill the vacuum with another mournful howl. Bring Geoff back to the present. He didn’t. Instead, Caber angled his head until he could lick between my fingers. I pulled away from his tickling tongue.

Geoff pressed his lips against my hair. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be OK.”

I knew he would. Geoff’s belief in God’s gracious plan had survived tests I couldn’t begin to grasp and his faith had come out stronger, more unshakable than mine would ever be. That was a big part of what had attracted me to Geoff in the first place. His good looks made him seem unattainable, but his wounded heart, his unflagging belief that God could heal it, and his willingness to trust me with his pain, made him irresistible. I loved Geoff before I ever recognized it. And the depth and fierceness of that love sometimes startled me.

“Tell me about Claude,” I said. Perhaps sharing his memories might help.

“You don’t want to hear all that.”

I snuggled against his side, making myself comfortable. “Sure I do. I want to hear about every moment you can remember.”

He could remember a lot. I’d not realized how close Geoff and Claude had become. Men like my father and brothers tended to maintain their men-friendships on a camaraderie kind of level—shared work, shared antics. They didn’t discuss their dreams, goals, hurts, or theology—at least not that I was aware of. But Geoff and Claude did. Geoff was a mentor to Claude. He taught Claude how to pray, confess, and discern God’s voice. He taught him to obey God’s lead and expect God’s healing.

“Claude had a falling out with his family before he met Carrie. And he never told her about them. Or them about her, for that matter. The two parts of his life were completely separate. Like the Christian part and the athletic part.”

Caber’s back leg twitched, and Geoff stilled it with the gentle weight of his hand.

“The idea that God wants to be part of our whole life, not just our Sunday mornings, excited Claude. And I think it frightened him, too, though he never admitted that.” Geoff smiled. “You should have seen the way he squirmed before he told Highland Breweries he wanted out of their endorsement contract. I made up an errand so he wouldn’t be alone on the trip to Halifax. But I knew he was fretting by the way he kept pulling at his shirt front. He did that whenever he was nervous. You could tell, before any competition, how confident he felt by how much he adjusted his shirt.”

“Did everyone know that?”

“Anyone with two eyes would pick it up soon enough. Murdock used it against him, until I told Claude he was telegraphing his tension to the other competitors.” He shook his head. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“If it gave the others an unfair advantage over Claude…”

“Well, Highland Breweries didn’t need to know Claude was nervous about cancelling his endorsement. We prayed before he went into the meeting, and when he came out, he climbed into the car and sat there grinning like a hyena with a water buffalo. ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘I told them the endorsement conflicted with my new commitment to God, and I had to follow my conscience. I even quoted that passage—you know the one where Peter says, ‘You yourselves judge what is right in God’s sight—to obey you or to obey God.’ And, what could they say?’”

“We’ll sue?” I suggested.

Geoff chuckled under his breath. “Yep. That was it. But he was so happy. So proud of standing up for what he believed, that they could have drained him of every penny he’d ever earned, and he would have thanked them for the opportunity to stand firm.”

I pictured Claude’s face and the way it shone whenever he had a chance to talk about Jesus and forgiveness and his new life in Christ. I’d never seen anyone so luminous. I knew that was a strange word to describe a person’s face, but I suspected it’s what the Old Testament Israelis thought about Moses whenever he stepped out of the tabernacle tent, his face glowing so bright they begged him to cover up.

Geoff’s back deck faced east. The first glow of dawn crept above the watery horizon, lightening the indigo sky. Morning birds celebrated the coming sunrise with song.

Geoff stretched, and I sensed a subtle shift in his mood, as well as his body. The initial ripping of loss had passed. His friend was gone, but Geoff could still remember Claude’s faith. And with each remembering, with each telling, the celebration of Claude’s faith would grow.

Geoff was healing. Again.

He made me go home to bed, to catch an hour or two of sleep before I had to begin the day.

A little stiff, a lot weary, I did as he suggested. But in the back of my mind I was once again thinking about Claude’s other legacies: his grieving wife, his closest rival, and the silly Hum Harbour Daze parade, which threatened to bring the two face to face.