Homeward

by Melody Carlson

  Meg spied Erin’s green Volvo creeping up the hill. The others had been asked to park at the house, but Erin and Tom were bringing Grandmother up. Everyone had been surprised when Grandmother insisted on getting out of bed and coming, but they all knew better than to argue with the old woman. Tom pulled the car close to where the chairs were set up, and he and Erin helped Grandmother slowly out and into her wheelchair. At first Grandmother had told them she would come without the wheelchair, but on this point they had insisted. Her balance was not dependable after all the time she had spent in bed, and they knew her strength was minimal.

  Tom wheeled the chair over to the front row where Sigfried had left a space, and parked it, carefully setting the brakes. People were coming now, winding up the hill like a solemn parade. Meg was surprised by the number. It didn’t look like Sigfried had rented enough chairs. Some would probably have to stand.

  “Should we sit down?” asked Erin as she and her daughters approached.

  “Yes, Grandmother would probably appreciate not having to sit alone,” said Meg. They walked over and sat down in the front row. Ashley sat next to Meg, and after a few minutes, she reached out to take Meg’s hand. Meg held the soft, tiny hand in hers and thought this was perhaps the best comfort she had known since Sunny’s death. A tear slipped down Meg’s cheek, cooling in the slight ocean breeze.

  Soon all the chairs were filled, and at least twenty or thirty people were still standing. Meg shouldn’t have been surprised. Sunny had always been an outgoing person with a large circle of friends, and even after she gave up her drinking parties, she still enjoyed people—and people enjoyed her. What caught Meg off guard was that she knew hardly any of these people who were apparently her mother’s good friends. But then, why should she? They had lived separate lives for the past twenty years.

  The only people Meg recognized, besides her own family and Rosa, were Cal, Clive, and Matthew. With Matthew was a pretty blonde woman with a small, turned-up nose just like Clive’s. She had to be the girl’s mother. For some reason, the thought made Meg frown. She glanced around the rest of the crowd. Abner and his family hadn’t arrived yet. Surely they would come. But then, Abner was such a strange man; maybe the memorial for his aunt meant nothing to him.

  Sigfried hurried around, trying to greet people and make sure that no chairs were left empty in a standing-room-only crowd. He had placed up front a large wreath of pink chrysanthemums that had been delivered at the last moment, probably sent by someone who hadn’t heard about Sunny’s request that donations be sent to the homeless shelter in lieu of flowers. Just as Sigfried began to make his way to the podium, the sound of an engine roared from the south, and a moment later, a dark Suburban pulled up.

  Out climbed Abner, wearing a blue three-piece polyester suit with cowboy boots. His vest buttons strained across his front, and Meg was sure that his pants had once been bell-bottoms, or at least flared. Jason wore clean black jeans and a white shirt tucked in and buttoned up to the neck. But the strangest member of the threesome was a woman Meg knew must be Phoebe. She was nearly as wide as she was tall, and her lilac polyester tent dress swayed back and forth as she huffed towards them in wobbly spike-heeled shoes that kept getting stuck in the dirt. It seemed incredible that she didn’t tip over and roll down the hill. But when the woman was close enough for Meg to see, her face looked sweet and kind. Meg instantly liked her and felt sorry that she was stuck with a man like Abner.

  Sigfried graciously greeted the three and invited Phoebe to take his chair, apologizing that Jason and Abner would have to stand. Abner made a sound of disgust and shuffled off to the back of the crowd.

  Sigfried looked at his watch, then made his way to the podium again. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

  “As you all know, we have gathered today to remember our dear friend, Sunny Lancaster. Sunny was an unconventional woman in many ways. She told me once that she had made it her goal in life to break all the rules. And I’m sure many of you will agree that Sunny managed to break a lot of rules. But the rules that Sunny most often broke were ones like ‘never talk to strangers’ or ‘proceed with caution’ or ‘watch your step.’

  “Sunny was seldom careful. At the age of fifty, she took up skydiving, and just last year she went bungee-jumping off a bridge.” Sigfried paused and took a breath. “Sunny asked that one of her favorite songs be played today. Like Sunny, it’s unconventional. In fact, I doubt if it’s ever been played at a funeral before.” He bent over and pushed a button on a portable stereo. The guitar chords of the Beatles’ “Fool on the Hill” penetrated the silence of the misty bog.

  When Sigfried pressed the stop button on the stereo, Meg was certain there were few dry eyes left in the crowd, including her own. She heard sniffling and throat clearing, and even Grandmother, who surely had no idea who the Beatles were, had tears running down her powdered cheeks.

  “Now, Sunny didn’t want that song to make you sad. She just wanted to remind you that it’s okay to be different. It’s okay to chase your dreams, even if people think you’re crazy, think that you’re the fool on the hill. But Sunny also wanted me to make it very clear today that she was never completely proud of, or even pleased with, her life. She said if she could live it over again, she would do some things differently. There were a lot of things she wouldn’t change—she told me that just a few nights ago, on her birthday. She said she would rather live her life all wrong, with a passion for living and an honest and searching heart, than live it properly and flawlessly, and constantly afraid of making a mistake.”

  Sigfried looked over to where Matthew Logan was sitting and nodded. “Sunny asked that another good friend of hers might share today. She met Matthew Logan through her dear friend Abby.” Sigfried smiled at the woman next to Matthew. “A lot of you know Abby Logan by her beautiful oil paintings that hang in Sunny’s gallery. But what you might not know is that Matthew and Abby have a fellowship group that meets in their home, and Sunny had been attending it for the past couple of months. Sunny said that it was because of what Matthew and Abby shared that she was finally ready to go home. Come on up, Matthew.”

  Meg could hardly see for the tears in her eyes. But she listened as Matthew explained how Sunny had only recently come into their lives, yet would leave an impression that would change them all forever.

  “Sunny was never afraid. She was a mover, a shaker, a seeker. Never content to settle for status quo. Some of you may remember her fighting with the chamber of commerce to get hanging flower baskets. Some of you may remember how she worked on the downtown commission to clean up the waterfront and bring more tourism to what had recently been a dying mill town. But what you may not know, and what Sunny most wanted me to share with you today, was that Sunny had finally found the ultimate answer to her lifelong search.”

  Matthew proceeded to share a simple gospel message, not unlike the one Meg had heard him share so many years before at Camp Waneema in front of the big, crackling campfire. What stunned Meg was when he said that Sunny had accepted this message and that she’d become a Christian just weeks before her death. Meg felt the tears, cool and wet, on her cheeks. Sunny, a Christian? It seemed too incredible to be true. And yet, she and Erin had both noticed some changes in Sunny.

  Matthew finished by praying a simple prayer. Then people began moving around, visiting briefly, and finally heading slowly back down the hill.

  Sigfried and the Logans had been invited by Erin to share a meal at Briar Hedge with the family. Meg knew that Abner’s family was also invited, but she hoped they would decline, or at least that Abner would. Unfortunately, it looked as if that was not to be as they piled into their Suburban and rumbled down the hill, causing people to scatter off the dirt road in order to let them by.

  Rosa already had almost everything laid out and ready for the meal, but Meg volunteered to help with the last-minute details. She needed something to distract her from her thoughts, and she wanted to keep a safe distance from Abner. The kitchen pro
vided a good refuge. As she worked at keeping the buffet table laden with food, Meg wished she could meet Abby. She wanted to see what kind of woman Matthew’s wife was, and it intrigued her that Abby had been an artist friend of Sunny, and a Christian, as well.

  “Meg, you go get yourself something to eat, before it’s too late,” said Rosa when things finally slowed down in the kitchen. Meg peeked in to spy where Abner had settled, and saw that his back was to the buffet table. She slipped in and quickly filled a plate, then went over to an old deacon’s bench nestled beneath the stairs. She sat down and began to pick at the Waldorf salad, not really hungry, but not knowing what else to do.

  “May I join you?” Meg looked up to see Abby Logan standing before her with lifted brows.

  “Of course.” Meg scooted over to make room. “Actually, I was hoping to get to meet you, Abby.”

  “Me, too.” Abby smiled and sat down. “Although I feel like I already know you. Sunny told me a lot about you. It was so nice that you got to come back before…well, before Sunny had to leave.”

  Meg nodded. “I guess so.”

  “Have you been to her apartment yet?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I think Sunny left some things there for you. But I imagine Siggie will take care of that. I wanted you to know that Sunny told me quite a few things about her life. In fact, if you ever want to talk about anything...I mean, if you have any questions, I’d be happy to talk. Even though Sunny was a lot older, we got to be very close. We were sort of like kindred spirits, if you know what I mean.”

  Meg didn’t know. She couldn’t understand what this nice woman, who must be about the same age as Meg, could have possibly had in common with Sunny. But Meg just nodded numbly and took a bite of ham.

  “I don’t want to intrude, Meg. I know that grief is a very personal thing. But sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to.”

  “Thanks.” Meg laid down her fork and looked at Abby. “I’ll probably take you up on that offer. It’s just so hard to think right now. But I really appreciate it.” She paused. “There is one thing I can’t quite understand. Is it true—did Sunny really become a Christian?”

  Abby nodded. “It’s true.”

  “I’m so surprised,” said Meg. “I never would have guessed.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard it said, and I’ve seen it happen, that God works in mysterious ways.”

  Meg slowly shook her head. She felt fresh tears burning in her eyes, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Abby smiled and squeezed her hand. “Say, it sounds like you’ve made some good progress on the bog, Meg. Clive has been thrilled to be involved. I hope she can keep helping you.”

  “I hope so, too,” said Meg, grateful for the change in subject. “She’s such a good worker, and a delightful girl.”

  Abby looked over to where Clive and Matthew were sitting, talking to Tom. “Yes, we certainly think so.”

  “Did I hear Sigfried right, Abby? Are you an artist?”

  Abby nodded.

  “I’ve only been in the gallery a couple of times,” Meg continued. “I’m trying to remember if I saw your name. What type of paintings do you do?”

  “Mostly oils. And usually safe subjects like seascapes and lighthouses, and an old house or building once in a while.”

  “I remember a number of really large paintings, done from different perspectives. There was one of an old house, and it looks like the house is really tall. Are those yours?”

  Abby nodded. “Those are mine.”

  “They’re beautiful. They were my favorite group of paintings in the gallery. For what you call a safe subject, they sure have a lot of feeling in them.”

  “Thanks. I’m trying a few new things. Sunny really encouraged me not to dwell in the safety zone forever. But I can only take one little step at a time when it comes to my art. I don’t know how I’ll move any faster without Sunny to prod me along, although Matthew may pick up where she left off. He has become a huge fan of your mother.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, everything he said today was completely true. As much of an influence as he had on her, she had quite an impact on him as well. He keeps talking about living life to the fullest and taking risks. I think God used Sunny in an amazing way with Matthew.”

  “Really?” Meg knew she probably sounded like a broken record player, but what Abby was saying was incredible. “I have to admit that it boggles my mind to think that Sunny could have an influence on someone so together as Matthew.”

  Abby looked puzzled. “I didn’t know that you knew Matthew.”

  “I don’t know him that well. In fact, all these years I didn’t even know he was Cal’s son.”

  Abby still looked confused. “I thought you’d been gone for the past twenty years.”

  “Right. You see, I met Matthew at a summer camp eons ago. In fact, I had quite a crush on your husband. Well, he wasn’t married then, of course. In fact, I was only sixteen, but my crush lasted a whole summer. Of course, he barely knew who I was.”

  Abby chuckled.

  “I guess it is sort of funny,” Meg said with a wry smile.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that Matthew is not my husband.”

  Now Meg was puzzled, and embarrassed, and at the same time, glad for some reason. “But what about Clive? And isn’t your last name Logan?”

  Abby nodded. “Yes. I’m Matthew’s sister. I moved back to town to stay with him and Clive after his wife died nine years ago. I needed a place to live where I could paint, and Matthew needed someone to help him with Clive.”

  “Oh, I feel so stupid.”

  Abby reached out and touched her arm. “Don’t. It’s an understandable mistake. How would you know?”

  “The three of you just looked so much like a family. And Clive looks so much like you.”

  “Thanks. And we are a family.”

  “Abby,” called Matthew as he walked over to them. “I hate to interrupt you, but I have an appointment at four.”

  Abby turned to Meg. “Well, unless I want to walk, I’d better go. I look forward to getting to know you better, Meg. Please call me, anytime, if you need someone to talk to. I assume we’ll see you tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “The gathering at the gallery.”

  “Right,” said Meg. “I almost forgot.”

  NINETEEN

  The next morning, Meg and Erin both agreed that Sigfried should have the honor of scattering Sunny’s ashes as they flew out over the Pacific in the small single-engine plane. Meg wouldn’t admit that the thought of handling Sunny’s remains made her uneasy, but she suspected Erin felt the same. They both watched as Sigfried held the urn out the window with a straight arm, then ceremoniously turned it upside down, holding it there for several seconds as they watched the powdery white ashes get swept up in the wind. The pilot circled back around, and Meg thought she saw a small white cloud drifting down, but then decided it was probably just the sunlight reflecting off the window.

  Sigfried kept his face turned to the window as the pilot headed toward shore, looking back to the place where he had let the ashes fall. When he finally turned around, there were two lines of tears streaming down his face. It was the first time Meg had seen him cry. Trying to respect his privacy, she looked the other way, studying the line of pale sand bordering the blue of the water. It was obvious that Sigfried had loved Sunny very much, whatever their relationship had been.

  After they landed and climbed from the plane, Sigfried gave Erin and Meg a hug right there on the tarmac.

  “Sunny was a beautiful woman,” he said. “You two should be very proud to be her daughters.” As they walked back to their cars, Sigfried reminded them of Sunny’s final exhibit at the gallery that night.

  “I know you’ve made it clear that you won’t fill us in on any of the details, but can you at least tell us who might be there or what we should wear?” asked Erin. “And can I assume it’s ok
ay for the girls to come?”

  “Certainly. The girls will enjoy it, I think. As far as people, it’s just some of Sunny’s closest friends,” Sigfried explained. “And I think Sunny would like it if you considered it a festive occasion. Dress as if for a grand party. That’s what Sunny intended it to be.”

  When Meg got back to Grandmother’s house, she was surprised to find Grandmother sitting on the porch in her old rocker. Her aluminum walker was parked close by.

  “Grandmother?” said Meg. “Did you walk out here all by yourself?”

  Grandmother nodded her head smugly. “I’m tired of being an invalid, Meggie. I’ve decided if I’m going to die, then I might as well have a good time on my way out.” She rocked gently back and forth. “This chair feels grand, Meggie.”

  “Just be careful you don’t trip over any of these loose floorboards,” warned Meg as she sat down on the top step and looked toward the ocean.

  “You get her ashes all taken care of, then?” Grandmother’s voice was tight, as if the words were painful. Meg knew the idea of cremation went against the grain with the old woman.

  “Yes.” The ashes were probably settling into the water as they spoke.

  “I saw a little plane out there. I wondered if that might have been you folks.” There was a slight wistfulness in her voice, and Meg wondered if she might have wanted to come.

  “It probably was us. It was a just quick flight; we went up and out over the water, then back to the airstrip.”

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”

  They sat quietly on the porch, the only noises the gentle creak of the old wicker rocker and the roar of the ocean in the distance. In some odd and unexplainable way, it felt like an eternal moment to Meg. Like something that would be etched into a corner of her memory forever. Meg wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but finally Grandmother stirred. She began to reach for her walker, and Meg got up, asking if she needed any help.

  “Well, it might not be smart for me to overdo right away,” said Grandmother as she pulled herself slowly up to the walker.