They turned down a corridor, to a right, then a left. Twyla opened a door. It was the usual hospital room with the square of window and a television on the wall. Gwen lay on her back on a gray metal bed, strung around with tubes. Her eyes were closed. Twyla sat in the chair near the door as the other three stepped forward. Sarah and Evan stood behind Oliver so that it was his eyes Gwen looked into on rousing.
‘I was dreaming about Sonny,’ she whispered. ‘He was lost . . . he’s been lost for a long time now. I want him to be safe. Safe forever. He told me he saw pink clouds today.’
‘He did, Gwen.’ Oliver took her hand, his love pouring out to her. ‘Sonny is safe at last. He’s home.’ Unnoticed, the door opened and a still dark-haired, elderly woman with her left wrist in a cast stepped into the room.
For Gwen all that was earthbound had receded. A look of utmost serenity touched her face. She was gazing upward. ‘I’m waving, Sonny. I’ll always be waving.’
Epilogue
Gwen woke after a long sleep to find Rowena seated by her hospital bed. Perhaps because her eyes blurred with tears what she saw was her beautiful sister unchanged by time.
‘You came,’ she whispered.
‘Finally. Gwen . . . dear Gwennie! I’ve been such a willful fool. All these wasted years.’
‘Finally is never too late. Not when it comes to sisters.’ They sat and talked about Sonny as a child and a man, about John and then the late in life love who had come into Rowena’s life, who had moved heaven and hell to get her from France to Maine in record time. Renewal . . . and so much else that had flourished over the past months.’
Sarah and Evan were married six weeks later at St Anne’s Church. It was a simple wedding, with only those closest present. What mattered most was that Gwen was able to attend.
A couple of days later she walked with Sarah and Oliver along the beach below Bramble Cottage. She and Twyla would be leaving for France in the morning to visit Rowena and her gentleman friend for a few weeks. On their return Twyla was going to stay on with Gwen at the house on Ridge Farm Rise. They hoped to do some more traveling together in the future.
It was a cool morning; the sky was a clear, pale blue. Jumbo padded along with them; he would be staying at Bramble Cottage while Gwen and Twyla were away. Oliver had his new puppy on a leash. There was some toppling over and bursts of short rushes. He was another brindled bull mastiff, and Oliver had named him ‘Pocket’ because, as he’d said, compared to Jumbo he would fit into one.
Grandpa’s lawyer had everything set up for Sarah and Evan to take guardianship of Oliver. As Gerard promised, he had made no difficulties about this. He and Elizabeth had returned to New York. Perhaps they were now ready to stare down their demons and start over. Oliver hoped so.
The Cully Mansion was to be sold because very little of the money left in trust for its upkeep remained available. The Sea Glass Historical Society had expressed a strong interest in buying it. Nat would like that, thought Oliver, picking up Pocket who was ready to be carried, just as he would like his scrimshaws finally being displayed along with those of his brothers. Such unity in death triumphed over a near lifetime of estrangement. There was only one thing Oliver wanted from the Cully Mansion: the dresser with Nat’s drawings on the back of the drawers. He already had the little silver clock with the poem on it. The lawyer had said there was no problem about that. It was already in his bedroom. Nat’s dresser would go in the book room because Oliver’s bedroom furniture had been brought over from Ferry Landing. Grandpa had decided to sell the house, and Aunt Nellie was going to buy it. That made Brian and his parents happy and Bri wouldn’t miss out on coming over to Sea Glass, because he’d already had several sleepovers at Bramble Cottage.
Oliver was thinking about Grandpa that morning, so many wonderfully happy memories. Sonny’s death, and Gwen’s courageous acceptance of it, had brought a sense of peace that would help Oliver when the time came to say goodbye to the man who had given him the very best start in life.
Sarah’s thoughts were also of Frank Andrews and Sonny. Of the troubles and sorrows that are part of every life. Those that came without warning in the suddenness of a violent storm, while others slipped in on a slow, sad tide. But always for those who searched there could be recovered a treasure trove of memories washed in on the tide – reminders that even that which is broken can achieve renewed beauty. Fragments of what was once whole, but still priceless to the heart and never to be displaced by new beginnings.
Oliver and Gwen stood with Sarah on the shoreline. Soon they and the dogs would return by way of the wood steps and across the back lawn to the house, where Evan would interrupt his writing to join them in the kitchen. And Dusk would wander in to make sure she got her full share of Oliver’s attention. Sarah had no need to voice these thoughts to the other two. They reached out for each other’s hands and held on to this moment.
Shining up from beneath the incoming waves was another small treasure returned from the sea. Their eyes met in recognition that these gems, buffered by all kinds of weather, when gathered into a collection, would reflect for always the sunshine of a sea glass summer.
Sea Glass Summer Page 36
