The Edge of the Light

by Elizabeth George

  Becca went for a wooden box on the porch. She brought out one of the bones Ralph kept there for the dog. She threw it, Gus’s eyes went bonkers with thrill, and he crashed through several priceless rhodies to get it.

  “Sorry,” Becca said. “Bad aim.”

  “No worries,” Seth replied. “Maybe he’ll prune ’em for us.”

  A voice called hello from the top of the small hill. There, just out of sight, the parking area for the property formed a rough trapezoid fashioned from grass, gravel, mud, and ruts. The owner of the voice was a broad-beamed woman in jeans, tall rubber boots, and a down jacket with a repair made of a long strip of duct tape on its sleeve. She wore massive gloves that made her look like a cartoon character, and when she finally reached them, Seth could see that she also sported a rather alarming mustache that made him uncertain where to look.

  This was the home health care specialist, and it was because of a visit from her that Seth and his dad had come to Ralph’s place. For her part, Becca lived in the house. She’d joined Ralph as his cook and house cleaner in exchange for a room after a spate of living in a treehouse deep within the man’s forest.

  “Be careful coming down,” Rich Darrow called in greeting to the home health care specialist. “It’s wet. Don’t slip.”

  “Hmmm, yes, I see,” she said, and her tone told Seth she was evaluating what his dad had said. Next to him, he saw Becca remove the earbud from the AUD box.

  “Could use a handrail here,” the health care specialist called out.

  “Right.” Rich went to meet her.

  She made it down safely, came through the arbor that marked the entrance to the garden, and negotiated the stone steps, taking care with the winter moss that grew upon them. Next to him Seth heard Becca murmur, “That’s another problem.”

  But there were problems everywhere when it came to the house, the property, and Ralph’s ability to return to either. The place wasn’t built to accommodate someone who wasn’t able bodied. They didn’t need a home health care specialist to tell them that. So before Ralph would be allowed to return—if he would be allowed to return—the place had to be looked over by an expert. Recommendations had to be made by this expert. Those recommendations had to be followed to the letter and inspected when they were completed. None of this was going to be easy.

  “Steph Vanderslip,” the woman said by way of introducing herself. “You must be Seth. And you are . . . ?” to Becca.

  Rich Darrow was the one to introduce Becca. “Seth’s friend and Ralph’s boarder,” was how he put it.

  “Beck does the house stuff. And she cooks for Grand,” Seth said. “They get along great,” he added. “Huh, Beck?”

  “Long as I don’t have to play chess with him.” She added, so that Ms. Vanderslip would understand, “He always wins. I think he cheats.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Rich Darrow said.

  Steph Vanderslip said, “You ask me, the older they get, the wilier they become. Say, let’s start outside here so I can keep my boots on for a while.”

  Thus began the evaluation of Ralph Darrow’s property, and Steph Vanderslip was thorough. She began with the four front steps that led up to the porch, pointing out that their slick and unprotected condition could and would lead to broken legs if something wasn’t done to protect the surface against the persistent rain of the Pacific Northwest. In fact, she said, Ralph Darrow would be better served by the removal of the steps altogether and the installation of a galvanized steel ramp of the sort used in boating marinas. No moss, algae, lichen, or anything else grew on galvanized steel, she pointed out. The expense was greater than a wooden ramp but the upkeep was marginal. If the cost was too much for them, then they could go with a wooden ramp, as long as it was weatherproofed with rubber matting, chicken wire, or thick tar paper. Or they could keep the steps—which she didn’t recommend—and protect them in the same manner. If they chose to do that, though, stronger handrails would be needed: one on each side and another down the middle. But even then . . . a ramp would be better.

  Sheesh, Seth thought. This was only the beginning.

  Becca gazed at him. Her look was sympathetic. She was probably figuring things were going to get worse.

  Steph Vanderslip walked them all back up the hill to the parking area. There she asked pointedly, “How’s he going to get down to the house? Obviously, from the road to here can be done by car. But from here to the house . . . ? From the house to here when he has an appointment . . . What’s the plan?”

  “I can help him,” Seth said. “So can Beck. Dad can—”

  “Nope,” Ms Vanderslip said. “He needs to be brought down to the house by vehicle and you currently have no vehicular access.”

  That was true, Seth thought. You arrived at the garden and the house via the trail that encircled and descended the hill. But they could carry Grand down there, and once they had him in the house, how often would he realistically have to leave the place? Once a week? Twice a month?

  “He’d get pretty depressed if he couldn’t get out,” Becca said quietly. “I bet there’s a way, though.”

  Rich Darrow walked over to the side of the hill opposite the side that accommodated the path leading down to Ralph’s garden. Here the land was treed but not heavily forested and it sloped gradually in the direction of the house. “It’s simple enough,” he said to the home health care specialist, “we’ll put in a driveway to the back of the house.”

  Simple wasn’t how Seth would have put it, but when he joined his father, he saw that Rich had a point. Trees would need to come down, but most of them could be sold for lumber, and the profits could pay for the rest of the work to grade the land so that it could accommodate a vehicle.

  Steph Vanderslip gave a we’ll-see-about-that hmph, but she also agreed that a modestly sloping driveway down to the house would solve the problem. Then she led them back down to the house again, pointing out that no handrail existed along the path and Ralph Darrow was lucky no one had slipped, fallen, broken an arm, and sued him. If Ralph became mobile enough, she said, they would definitely need a handrail for him unless they planned to confine him to the house, allowing him to leave only by vehicle.

  Seth wondered at the entire idea of anyone thinking they could “allow” Grand to do something. Grand did what he wanted to do.

  Steph Vanderslip nearly went down as she marched them along the path. She caught herself and shot a look at Seth’s dad that said, See what I mean?

  From there, it was one room at a time. Handrails down the corridor, handrails in the downstairs shower, a seat in the shower as well, handrails on either side of the toilet, a thick bumper around the fireplace hearth to protect Ralph Darrow should he take a fall. As for his easy chair, they would need one simpler for him to get out of, and she recommended the sort with a seat that automatically tilted at the touch of—

  The front door opened, allowing a rush of frigid air to enter the place. They all swung at the sound of, “Ah. Here you are.”

  • • •

  IT WAS SETH’S aunt, and his first thought when he saw her was Crap. We’re in for it now. He saw Becca give him a puzzled glance. She wouldn’t know who Aunt Brenda was, because so far she’d only heard about Rich Darrow’s sister but had never met her. She’d be surprised when she got introduced.

  Brenda looked nothing like someone from Whidbey Island. She didn’t really look Pacific Northwest at all. She showed off her money with designer jeans, handmade Italian boots, a cashmere Burberry scarf, a leather jacket, and a ring with a diamond the size of New Jersey. Her hair was blonde and perfect. So was her makeup. So was everything about her, right down to the Lexus SUV that, Seth figured, was parked up above, standing spotlessly clean on the other side of the hill.

  Seth’s dad was the one to introduce Aunt Brenda to Becca and to Steph Vanderslip. He didn’t mention to his sister what they were all doing ther
e. This didn’t matter, because Steph Vanderslip offered her hand in a shake and said, “We’re just going over what needs to be done to your dad’s house before he comes home.”

  To this Brenda said to Seth’s dad, “D’you want to tell me what’s going on?” Before Rich could reply, Brenda went on to Steph Vanderslip with, “He’s not coming home.”

  Rich said, “Nothing’s been decided, Bren.”

  “Nothing needs to be decided. There’s no decision because there’s only one point that needs to be considered and it’s obvious: He can’t live on his own.”

  Seth said, “He’s not living on his own. Becca lives here.”

  “And what about the fact that Becca lives here?” Brenda asked, giving Becca a dismissive glance. “She’s what . . . fourteen years old?” She turned to Rich Darrow and demanded, “You’re planning to put Dad’s welfare into the hands of a child? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Beck’s sixteen,” Seth offered.

  “Oh wonderful!” Brenda hooted. “That makes all the difference. Is she a health care worker? Doesn’t she go to school? Or is she some kind of freeloading dropout that Dad took pity on?”

  He saw Becca wince, sort of as if she’d been smacked in the face. She put her earbud back in her ear at that point. Seth couldn’t work this one out, since he figured it would have been smarter to do the reverse. Without it, she couldn’t hear his aunt that well. With it, she could hear her perfectly. And what Brenda was saying was pretty mean, as if Becca was an idiot or something.

  Rich said, “Bren, this isn’t the time. . . .” And to Steph Vanderslip, “Seth works in construction. He’s a fine carpenter, so any work that needs to be done isn’t a problem.”

  “Don’t tell me this isn’t the time!” Brenda’s voice went up. “Mike’s coming over to evaluate the property.”

  “No way!” Seth said hotly. “You two don’t have any right to—”

  “Don’t you speak to me like that!”

  “I’ll talk to you how I feel like talking. This is my grandfather!”

  “This is my father!”

  Through this, Steph Vanderslip had been like someone watching a tennis match. She finally said, “You know, I think I’ll be on my way. Obviously, there are family issues that need to be resolved here. But . . .” She looked a little regretful. “One way or another arrangements are going to have to be made for Mr. Darrow.” Saying this, she took herself out of the house, which left the rest of them with Brenda.

  Seth saw Becca ease the earbud out of her ear again as Brenda said in a hiss to Rich Darrow, “You always think you’re so clever. You arranged to have this meeting without me because you knew I’d object. He needs full-time care and he’s not going to get it here.”

  “Not that you’re volunteering to take care of him,” Seth put in.

  She swung on him. “Don’t you dare—”

  “Seth, let me handle this,” Rich said. “Why don’t you and Becca wait outside?”

  Seth didn’t want this. He was too scared that his aunt would strong-arm his dad. Because Brenda had money, Brenda had power. Rich was a glass blower lucky enough to make ends meet. But Seth said, “Come on, Beck,” and he went outside to the porch. On the lawn, Gus looked up from the bone he was working on, and his tail wagged happily. Seth went over to him and patted the Lab’s head.

  He said with some determination to Becca, “He’s not going anywhere but home, Beck.”

  “I know it’s important,” she replied. “It’s what he’d want.”

  “We got to get him here fast. If we don’t, my uncle’s going to come over with his polished shoes and his sports jacket and his razor cut hair and believe me he’s going to have a calculator in his pocket. You ask me, he’ll be looking at the house to sell it and then we’ll be done for, especially if Grand isn’t sitting on the front porch when he shows up.”

  5

  The work on Ralph Darrow’s house was going to take two weekends. Becca and Seth had first assumed one weekend would do it. But when they had all the supplies gathered and when they stood together outside Ralph’s house, having a look at the scope of the work they’d taken on, they had to admit it couldn’t be accomplished in the two and a third days they had blocked out for it. There was too much to be done, and a lot of it had to be accomplished out-of-doors, where daylight in January was in short supply.

  “Sheesh,” had been Seth’s reaction, and although his thoughts were fuller, they made the same point. No way José had been foremost in his mind, followed by . . . I don’t do this and he ends up getting booted because that’s what she’ll do to him depend on it.

  Becca was pleased by the amount of whispering she picked up from Seth as they stood together. Time was that she’d only heard fragments. Working with Diana Kinsale to block out people’s whispers when she didn’t want to hear them was also improving her ability to hear them when she wished to do so.

  “We can make a serious dent in it, can’t we?” she asked Seth.

  “S’pose,” he said.

  “Then what’s left, you and I can do next weekend. Prynne’ll come back, I bet.”

  Prynne was Seth’s girlfriend: Hester Prynne Haring. She was one of Seth’s fellow musicians, and she’d grown up west of Whidbey Island in the vicinity of the Hood Canal, which stretched its length between the Kitsap and Olympic peninsulas. She and Seth had been together for several months now, and from what Becca had picked up from whispers, things were pretty serious. At least that was the case on Seth’s part. On Prynne’s part . . . Becca wasn’t so sure.

  Prynne came out of the house, followed by Jenn McDaniels and Squat Cooper. Squat was wearing a BOB THE BUILDER baseball cap over his thick, rust-colored hair, and somewhere he’d found a pair of workman’s overalls to go with it. He’d scored tools from his mom’s garage as well, leftovers from before his dad had deserted the family for his receptionist. Despite his appearance as a worker, Squat represented the brains of the group. The rest of them represented the brawn.

  That included Derric, who was up above on the area where the driveway would go in. The trees there had been felled and hauled off by professionals. The profits from selling the downed wood to a lumber mill were being used to buy what they needed to fix Ralph’s house. Two trees, however, had been left where they’d fallen. Seth’s plan was that they would be turned into firewood for his grandfather. They needed to be sawed into manageable lengths, chopped into fireplace logs, and set in covered stacks to dry. Derric had asked for this project. Becca could tell from the roaring of the chain saw that he was deep into it as the rest of them gathered on the front porch of the house.

  It was a frigid day. Seth’s words came out in puffs of vapor as he assigned them their tasks.

  “Jenn and Squat,” he said, “you’re with me on the ramp. Beck and Prynne, you’re doing all the rails for the house. They’re already cut but they need to be stained. The brackets are ready, too. We got stainless steel for the shower, and those’re in the downstairs bathroom ready to mount. Everything else is in Grand’s shop. Everyone okay with that?”

  “We live to serve,” was how Squat put it. He extended his arm to Jenn, adding, “Shall we, dearest?”

  “Don’t make me hurl,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

  Becca and Prynne headed for Ralph Darrow’s shop, which stood at the foot of the hill down which the new driveway would descend. Overhung with a winter bare wisteria, the shop wasn’t a large building, but it had served Ralph well. It was the first structure he’d put onto his property, and from it he’d built the entire house in which he and wife had lived.

  Inside, Becca and Prynne found the rails that the house needed. They were stacked along one wall in varying sizes, and on them was taped the location of their installation. Brackets to hold them sat on the workbench. These were wrought iron: simple, without ornament, and made by one of the island blacksmiths.

/>   Prynne looked at the scope of their work and said to Becca, “We got the better deal. Sometimes it’s useful to have only one eye. Otherwise, I’d be outside pounding a hammer, I bet.”

  Becca was switching on the two portable heaters. It seemed even colder in the building than it was outside. She turned to see Prynne popping out her false eye and pulling from the pocket of her long wool skirt a small box and the piratical patch she wore when she didn’t have the glass eye in her empty socket. She stored the glass eye inside the box, positioned the eye patch where it belonged, and fastened the band that held it in place.

  “Don’t want to get sawdust in the old socket,” she said in answer to Becca’s unasked question.

  “You’re nice to help us,” Becca told her.

  “Well, Seth’s my guy,” Prynne said.

  Becca nodded, but the truth was, she wasn’t so sure. Earlier, when Seth and Prynne had entered Ralph’s house in advance of Derric, Jenn, and Squat, she’d hugged hello to both of them. When her hands touched Prynne, she’d had a flash of an image. It had lasted two seconds, perhaps a little longer. But it was enough for her to see a bearded and bony guy looking up from a cluttered table, his eyebrows raised and a smile on his face. Sly, the smile seemed. Knowing as well. Becca felt uneasy when she saw him. She had glanced between Seth and Prynne, and she’d tried to read the level of comfort and trust they had in each other. But that was an impossibility. She might be able to hear their whispers, and she might be able to see through their eyes a previous moment they’d lived through. But that was it.

  Now, she and Prynne set out to do their assigned task. There were two cans of stain to make the railing match the woodwork in the house. Becca opened one of them as Prynne brought two of the rails to the workbench. They worked in silence for a couple of minutes, a silence broken by the periodic roar of the chain saw and Seth’s voice outside Ralph’s shop, telling Squat and Jenn what they needed to do to help him build the ramp. Since he’d already put the posts in, they heard him say, they had to frame out the structure. Grand would have to be able to walk up and down it and he’d also have to be able to be pushed in a wheelchair on occasion, so the degree of the slope . . .