Where the Love Gets In

by Tara Heavey

  They were between two worlds, depending in which direction you looked. One way was the harbour, the streetlights, the house-lights – lighting their way home if that was what they chose. That way was comfort and familiarity. The other way was nothing, yet at the same time everything. The sea, the sky, the stars, the moon. All of creation laid out for them. Calling them. Tempting them. This was the way they both chose to look.

  And, suddenly, she was there, Star, part of it too, giving herself away with one of her gigantic sighs.

  ‘Starboard,’ said Aidan.

  They turned their heads but she was gone again. Sarah smiled at him, the exact same smile she had given him on the first day. As if she was lit up from within. But this time, she seemed almost translucent. He knew it was partly the moon that was causing this effect – but only partly. There were times lately when he felt he could see right through her. And now, her eyes gigantic with moonshine, liquid and limpid like rock-pools, it made her seem like some otherworldly creature. And he realized that that was what she was. She had one foot in two separate worlds, straddling them with increasing ease. And although they were sitting in the same boat, he had the strangest sensation that she was drifting away from him. He had to fight the urge to pull her back from where he couldn’t follow.

  ‘This is just so …’ She gestured around her, shaking her head.

  ‘I know.’

  Star circled the boat. Stars above them, below them and all around them. And suddenly there were two. Aidan thought he was imagining it at first. He knew how swiftly a dolphin could move – could appear to be in two places at once.

  ‘There are two of them, Aidan – look!’

  Sarah stood unsteadily and pointed. Sure enough. Two dorsal fins together at the one time didn’t lie. They rose and fell in perfect unison, as if instructed by a choreographer. An elegant underwater ballet. Disappearing under, then emerging to breathe. It was a meditation just to watch them. Then they separated and began to play, gentle at first, then increasingly rough.

  ‘Are they playing or fighting?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.’

  ‘Where do you think the other came from?’

  ‘Could be anywhere. There are a good few lone dolphins along this coast now.’

  ‘Are there? You never told me that.’

  ‘Did I not? I assumed you knew. Star is the friendliest anyway. Or this one could have come from the open ocean on its way to the Caribbean. Or on its way back to the Mediterranean. Came in to see what was going on.’

  ‘What a life. Being free to go wherever you choose, do whatever you want. Completely in synch with your own environment.’ Her voice was filled with an intense yearning. ‘I’m coming back as a dolphin,’ she said.

  He smiled at her.

  ‘How long do they live anyhow?’

  ‘Up to forty years in some cases.’

  ‘Same as me, then.’

  The other dolphin had positioned its body along the side of the dinghy. Sarah reached down and grazed her fingers on its back. ‘It’s letting me touch. Look.’

  Sure enough, the dolphin seemed to be relishing Sarah’s caress. It turned over and allowed her to stroke the tender skin of its underbelly.

  Aidan watched her. Her face was ecstatic. She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she murmured.

  He could.

  Star was on the other side of the boat. Without warning, she reared out of the water and, for several seconds, her body was actually in the boat. Sarah ran her hand along Star’s back and the dolphin plunged back into the water. They laughed, breathless with excitement.

  The dolphins stayed with them for a couple of hours. Then they swam off into the deep blue yonder. Aidan started the engine and turned the boat to shore. Sarah seemed entirely spent and wildly happy. He saw her mouthing something at the retreating forms of the sea creatures. He knew it was ‘goodbye’.

  Chapter 48

  The hospice nurse had come and gone. She had wanted to connect Sarah to a morphine drip. Sarah had refused. Right now, the drip stood impotently in the corner of the room. Sarah resented its presence. ‘I won’t use it, you know.’

  ‘You might need to.’ Her tablets were proving increasingly ineffective.

  ‘I won’t. I want to remain lucid. If I’m going to have hallucinations, I want to be able to tell the difference between real ones and artificial ones.’

  It wasn’t really the drip that was the problem. The problem, as they both well knew, was that being connected to it was tantamount to admitting that she couldn’t venture out any more. She couldn’t really anyway. But without the drip, she could retain the illusion of mobility.

  Sarah sighed and lay down on her side, turning her back to Aidan and her eyes to the wall. Aidan left the room and joined Sheila in the kitchen. The woman appeared to be washing crystals in the sink. He didn’t ask, just slumped wearily into the nearest chair.

  ‘Is she upset?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be? She can’t even go outside.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to bring the outdoors to her. Bring her the things she loves from outside. Flowers, shells, stones. If you help me, we can move her bed closer to the window so she can see outside all the time.’

  Aidan nodded. He could do that. He wished he didn’t feel a hundred years old. He felt Sheila move up behind him. She laid her hands on his shoulders. ‘May I?’

  ‘May you what?’

  ‘Give you a healing massage.’

  ‘I thought you were supposed to do that to the patient.’

  ‘And caregivers too. Wherever the need arises.’

  He shrugged. ‘Okay.’

  He wasn’t sure about the healing part but a massage sounded good. As she worked on his shoulders, ironed out the kinks in his neck, Aidan felt the tension flowing out of him, and was suddenly overwhelmed by his own tiredness.

  ‘I could sleep for a week,’ he said.

  ‘It’s no wonder you’re tired. You need to look after yourself, Aidan. You’re going to have to be on top form to deal with what’s coming next.’

  He didn’t ask for details. He decided he’d rather not know.

  ‘I think I’ll go out for a walk,’ he said.

  ‘Good idea. Buy her some flowers while you’re at it. I’ll go up to her for a while.’

  Aidan nodded and got up. ‘Thanks for the massage.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  He wasn’t sure if he felt healed. But he felt marginally better. Flowers. He didn’t think he needed to collect shells. Maia had tons of them in her room – although they were so meticulously arranged that she would probably notice if he removed even one. The beach it was, then.

  Tommy had spent a magical morning surfing. The September sea was increasingly rough and he’d ridden beneath the curve of more than one wave that morning. He felt elated as he stepped out of the water. He saw his father before his father saw him: Aidan was walking along slowly, peering at the sand and bending every so often to pick something up. Odd. Tommy approached him. ‘Dad.’

  ‘Tommy!’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Here. What do you think of this shell?’

  ‘It’s a shell.’

  ‘Is it pretty?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose so.’ What had got into his dad? They must be for the little girl.

  ‘I’m glad I bumped into you, Tom. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘The dolphin tours. I’m probably going to have to knock them on the head for a while.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s Sarah. She’s not great.’

  Tommy nodded. It embarrassed him to talk about her.

  ‘So she’s going to need me around a lot more. I might get out the odd afternoon, but that’s about it.’

  Tommy looked at his father as his father glanced away. He could have sworn he hadn’t had as much grey hair the last time he’d seen him. ‘I could cover for you.’


  ‘What? Do the tours on your own?’

  ‘Yeah. Why not?’

  ‘It’d be too much for you, Tom.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t.’ Tommy was growing indignant. ‘I know what to do. I’ve watched you hundreds of times.’

  Father looked at son thoughtfully.

  ‘I can do it. I know I can. And, besides, we have to squeeze the last of the money out of the tourists.’

  His dad laughed. ‘You’re your mother’s son.’

  ‘I need the money too, you know – to squander when I’m in college.’

  ‘You’re on. I’ll come out when I can, but other than that, you’re on your own. You can start this afternoon, if you like.’

  ‘Magic. You won’t regret it.’

  ‘You make sure I don’t.’ He smiled. Then the smile faded. ‘How’s your mother?’

  ‘She’s doing all right. She said you came to see her.’

  ‘I did. She threw a cup of tea over my head.’

  ‘You got away lightly.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘She’d been talking about using the nutcrackers on you.’

  His father made a face. ‘I’ve got to be getting back. Let me know how you get on this afternoon. Oh – I almost forgot.’ He took something out of his pocket and tossed it to Tommy. ‘The keys to the kingdom. Use them wisely.’

  ‘I will.’

  His father moved away. Tommy watched him walk on a few steps, then bend and pick up another shell. He examined it for a few moments, then put it into his pocket. Poor Dad. He was losing it. Maybe that was the explanation for his uncharacteristic behaviour over the past few months. He was actually going insane. He certainly looked half cracked. Maybe he had a brain tumour. You heard about that kind of thing. Tommy shook his head. It was meant to be him going through all the adolescent angst. Who would have thought he’d grow up to be the most sensible member of his family?

  Chapter 49

  Sheila was massaging Sarah’s feet. She sat at the edge of the bed, Sarah’s foot in her lap, and applied the rose-scented oil as Sarah drifted in and out of consciousness. She seemed altered. Her energy level had dipped considerably. Sheila drifted away herself as she worked, humming a lullaby from long ago.

  ‘Sheila.’

  She was jolted back. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I was miles away. I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘What was that you were singing?’

  ‘I don’t know. Something from my childhood, I expect. It’s amazing what’s buried inside.’

  ‘What’s that smell?’

  ‘I’m burning geranium oil.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  Sheila got up immediately, blew out the tea-light and took the burner out of the room. Then she returned. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘I could use some extra pillows.’

  Sheila went over to the armchair, picked up two spares and approached the head of the bed. The two women looked candidly at one another.

  ‘I don’t think I can sit up.’

  ‘Not to worry.’

  Sheila hoisted her tenderly by the armpits. Sarah began to cry. ‘I was always able to sit up before. What’s happening to me, Sheila?’

  ‘Your body is preparing itself for its journey.’

  ‘I don’t want to go on a journey. I want to stay here.’

  Sheila clasped Sarah’s hands as the other woman sobbed uncontrollably. She waited patiently for the storm to subside. When it did, she began to speak in a soft, gentle voice. ‘All you’re doing, Sarah, is returning to your source. You’re going back to where you came from. Back to where you belong.’

  ‘Back to God?’

  ‘Straight back into the loving arms of God.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’

  ‘Yes, I really do. I’ve been there now for so many people as they’ve died. Had the privilege to be there. And every now and then you catch a glimpse of the other side. You get to accompany them for a small part of their journey. Hold their hands as they cross to the other side.’

  ‘What have you seen?’

  ‘Peace. Joy. Pure love.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’

  Sheila smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘Are you afraid of dying, Sheila?’

  ‘No. Not one bit.’

  Sarah looked intensely into the other woman’s eyes. ‘Do you really mean that?’

  ‘Yes, I really mean that, Sarah.’

  Sarah continued to stare for several seconds longer. Then her eyes fell away and her body relaxed. ‘I believe you,’ she said.

  ‘When you spend so much time around death you lose your fear of it. You see the joy on the faces of the dying as their loved ones come to meet them and act as their spiritual guides. Their psychopomps.’

  ‘Psychopomp!’ Sarah sounded excited. ‘I know that word.’

  Sheila nodded. ‘Well, that’s how I see myself too. A spiritual guide.’

  ‘Psychopomp.’ Sarah rolled the word around in her mouth. ‘Aidan doesn’t believe in any of that stuff. He thinks we just rot in the ground and that’s it. We’re gone.’

  ‘That’s what happens to the physical body, but the soul soars as it’s released. He’ll find out when his time comes. Because it comes to all of us. Your time has just come a little earlier than most.’

  Sarah nodded.

  ‘Would you like to do a guided visualization?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Okay. Close your eyes and get your body as comfortable as possible.’

  ‘This bedspread is annoying me.’

  ‘I’ll take it off you.’

  Sheila removed it and smoothed the remaining sheet over Sarah’s limbs. She sat in the chair beside the bed and closed her own eyes. ‘You’re in charge of this journey, Sarah. You decide where you want to go and who you want to have travel with you. It can be a beautiful garden, a rainbow bridge, a body of water …’

  ‘The sea. And I want Star with me.’

  ‘Star is the dolphin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. So close your eyes and breathe with me.’

  Sheila placed her hand over Sarah’s heart and the room fell into silence. Their breaths became deeper and one began to match the other. Sheila’s voice entered the silence. ‘You’re walking along a cliff path on a beautiful summer’s day. The sun is high and the sky is cloudless. Endless. Everywhere you look there are flowers, flanking each side of the path. The only sound is the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the rocks.’

  She paused between each sentence. And the silences grew even louder.

  ‘The path begins to spiral downward. Down and down you go. Down. Down. Until you reach a secluded cove. The sand is golden. The sea is sapphire blue. The sunlight dances on the water like so many diamonds. The cliffs are made of the blackest onyx. The path ends and your feet sink into the sand. It’s the softest sensation you’ve ever known. You feel as if you’re walking on clouds. Resting on the shoreline, where the sea meets the sand, there is a little blue boat. You know that someone has left it for you. Taking your time, you walk over and see that it’s tied to a rock. You undo the knot and it falls away easily. You give the boat a push and it floats effortlessly into the sea. You step on board.

  ‘It’s a tiny wooden vessel. Just the right size for one. The perfect fit for you. You begin to drift, you and the boat, out to sea. The sea is calm and you feel perfectly safe, knowing that nothing bad can happen to you here. You float along, giving yourself over to the sensation of being carried by the water, by the boat. You move with the ebb and the flow of the waves. And after a while you realize that your little boat is travelling by itself, with no effort on your part. Yet you are not afraid. And you are not alone. Star is swimming alongside the boat. She’s there to guide you. To help you on your way. She’ll be with you until your journey’s end and beyond. As the boat drifts away. Further from the shore. Further. And further. Away.’

  Sheila o
pened her eyes. She exhaled and peered at Sarah. Her face was closed, her mouth slightly open. She was fast asleep. Sheila got up and left the room as quietly as possible.

  Aidan was downstairs. He had evidently just got in. He was standing at the coffee-table, emptying shells from his pockets, handfuls and handfuls. Several bouquets also lay on the table.

  Sheila gestured towards them. ‘You did well.’

  He nodded. ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s sleeping.’

  ‘Good. She seemed very tired.’

  ‘Aidan, you need to ring her sister.’

  Aidan dropped the last of the shells onto the table. Several heartbeats passed between them. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s time.’

  Chapter 50

  That night the very portals of hell opened up for Aidan. He was woken up at four a.m. by a high-pitched keening. It was as if some animal were in the room with him. But it was Sarah, curled up foetally, her hands clutching her belly, the pain escaping her in a series of whimpers and moans.

  He switched on the bedside lamp and pulled back the covers. Her face was contorted, her teeth bared. For a second he thought she was still asleep, in the throes of a nightmare, but then he saw that she was fully awake, her eyes wide open and glistening, wild.

  ‘Are you in pain?’

  She nodded between moans.

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

  The question was rhetorical. She was unable to speak.

  ‘Oh, Jesus. The drip.’ Aidan walked rapidly to the stand and began to fiddle ineffectually with it. Then he rattled it violently. It was the equivalent of thumping a broken appliance. ‘I’ll phone the nurse.’

  He sat on the side of the bed and dialled, his foot tapping furiously. Then he got up and began to pace, too agitated to stay still. The phone went automatically to message minder. Shit. He left a short, curt message and hung up. Maybe she’d ring him straight back. Maybe she wouldn’t. He didn’t have the luxury of hanging around to find out. So he rang the out-of-hours GP service. He got through immediately and described the situation in urgent terms. The doctor on call would be there directly. Thank you.