Hearts at Home

by Lori Copeland

  Her hair was still dark at the ends, followed by inches of steel gray. Around her forehead the hair had gone snowy white, and she liked to think the effect becoming. Edmund had always said lighter colors brightened a woman’s face.

  Her husband had loved this part of the day. Even when his snoring necessitated that they sleep in separate bedrooms, he had often entered her room to share the last few moments of the evening. He would stretch out on her bed, propping his head on his hand, and watch her reflection in the mirror as she picked up her tortoiseshell brush and began to pull it through her hair.

  “My, my,” he’d say, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Miracles do happen. Despite my contrariness, somehow I managed to marry the town beauty.”

  Olympia had always ignored his silly remarks, for no woman of good breeding went around thinking of herself as beautiful. Such an attitude led to pompousness and conceit, while a lady kept herself above those things. As a young woman she had wanted to spend her life giving to the poor, helping orphans, being an example of all a Christian woman should be … then she had fallen in love with Edmund Shots, a man twenty years her senior whose ancestors didn’t rate even a footnote in the social register. The situation had rocked her family and scandalized the townsfolk, but her sterling reputation had saved her from total disrepute.

  Lowering the hairbrush, she looked at the bed reflected in the mirror. “Oh, Edmund, how I miss you.”

  She had not lived the life of her dreams, but she had lived. And in the living she had hurt some people and helped some others; she had been loved and feared, admired and criticized. As mistress of the largest and most imposing home on the island, she had taken pains to maintain a certain standard of propriety—employing a butler, making a regular habit of afternoon tea, and keeping the horse and buggy long after everyone else had bought golf carts to traverse the island. She had worked hard to maintain the grand and historic legacy of Heavenly Daze, but all the while she knew the other townsfolk were laughing behind her back.

  They loved her, she knew that—she’d seen evidence of their affection immediately after Edmund’s death and she felt the warm support of her neighbors every time she attended church or the ladies’ quilting circle. The gulf between her and the others was of her own making, she knew that as well. But as the only direct descendant of Captain Jacques de Cuvier, the responsibility of maintaining both his legacy and his town fell upon her shoulders. If not for her vigilance, Vernie would have everyone riding noisy motor scooters, Birdie would be trying to open a bakery franchise up at the point, and Charles Graham would be selling Heavenly Daze landscapes down on the dock… .

  She caught her breath as a sudden spasm gripped her chest. Nerves, probably. She’d been a little squamish about Annie’s visit, nearly sick with worry that a gale would blow up and prevent the ferry from running. With Captain Stroble due for his vacation, transportation to and from the mainland was iffy, and Olympia shuddered at the thought of Annie riding with Crazy Odell Butcher.

  Rubbing the painful spot within her chest, she stared into her mirror, studying the image of an aging woman, eyes red-rimmed with weariness and pain. The mirror was lying again, for Olympia felt no kinship with the woman in the looking glass. In her inmost heart she was a mature woman of about Annie’s age, with nearly as many dreams and hopes as she’d nurtured in her younger years.

  She made a face at the mirror, then moved her hand to her temple. The headache that had come and gone for weeks had welcomed itself back to her brain, and this time it brought chest spasms for company. Fine, then. She’d ask Caleb to brew a pot of chamomile tea …

  As if he’d read her mind, she heard Caleb’s voice. “Missy?”

  Adjusting her gaze in the mirror, she saw Caleb standing behind her—odd, since she had not heard the click of the door—but this was a Caleb she hadn’t seen in years. His face was full and unlined, his head framed by thick auburn hair, his eyes bright and energetic. Vigor had erased the stoop from his posture, his skin glowed with health and light, and behind his back two amazing wings flexed with power and strength—

  She turned on the bench, her eyes widening to take in the unbelievable sight.

  A glow surrounded the man who had served as her butler for over fifty-five years, a tangible, bright light that seemed to pulse with every breath she drew.

  Caleb gave her a lovely, warming smile that reached clear to her heart. “It’s time.”

  Her lips whispered, “Time for what?” but her heart knew. The one who had met her needs and watched over her, who had ministered to her and spoken words of Truth nearly all the years of her life … he was no butler, he was not even a man.

  He was … an angel.

  The truth came in a dazzling burst of mental illumination, and an instant later she could not understand how she could have been so blind all her life. Seeing him in the center of that unearthly living light, she would have understood his nature even if he were stooped and frail and cocking his head as if his ears were failing.

  His mortal body might have weakened over the stretch of years, but the being before her now was clothed in immortality. And as he held his hand out to her, she felt another pain in her chest, sharper this time, but she had no thought for the pain, only joy and gladness that Caleb stood ready to help her pass one more milestone.

  “It’s time for you to go home, Missy.”

  Home—the word vibrated with depths of meaning she’d never fathomed before.

  Smiling, she took his hand and stood, then felt her soul break free. On the wings of love and compassion she rose with him, her spirit expanding and her senses quickening as the walls of her room and the house seemed to fade into insignificance and the last sound she heard with earthly ears was the sound of her tired body hitting the floor.

  Annie heard the thump and looked up from her reading, her eyes searching the ceiling. Aunt Olympia’s room stood just over the parlor, and she could have fallen … or dropped a book. Sounds could be deceiving in a house as old as this one; the smallest object could sound like a boulder hitting the wooden floors overhead.

  Tallulah whined softly. Lifting her head, her eyes seemed to focus on something beyond Annie’s field of vision.

  Annie studied the dog. “What is it, girl? Should we go up and check on Aunt Olympia?”

  Barking, the dog sprang to her feet, then spun in a small circle, finally settling back upon the cushion of her doggy bed. She propped her chin on her forepaws, but her eyes kept darting toward the ceiling.

  Annie leaned forward, listening. The bump had been followed by silence—she heard no cry for help, no call for Caleb. So Olympia had probably dropped something. Calling attention to her clumsiness would only annoy her, especially if she were trying to sleep.

  Annie settled back and picked up her book, but her caffeine rush had worn off. And the hour was late.

  “That’s it.” She snapped the book closed. “Come on, Tallulah, let’s go up to bed. Auntie is probably missing you.”

  Obediently the terrier sprang to her feet. Together they climbed the stairs, the dog’s toenails clicking against the worn wooden steps. Annie smiled in relief when she saw a line of light at the bottom of Olympia’s door.

  “Here, Tallulah.” Annie opened the door a few inches, not wanting to intrude on Olympia’s privacy. “Go on in and get some shut eye.”

  The dog scooted through the opening, but she did not round the corner as if she were going to the spot where her doggie bed lay. Instead, she trotted to the left …

  “Aunt Olympia?”

  With one finger Annie pushed the door. Her aunt would probably squawk if Annie so much as glimpsed her in her nightgown, but perhaps she was reading in bed.

  “Auntie?” She opened the door wider. “You asleep?”

  No answer, so Annie thrust her head through the opening in the doorway, then felt her heart do a double beat. Olympia lay on the floor, one hand outstretched, the other clutching a tortoiseshell hairbrush. Worst of all, the s
mell of death filled the room.

  Through some ability she did not yet understand, Olympia looked down and saw Tallulah and Annie kneeling by the side of a woman on the floor. For an instant she wondered who the woman could be, then the truth crashed into her consciousness like surf hurling against a rocky cliff.

  “This is death?” She looked at Caleb, who had not left her side.

  “It is transition,” he answered, his hand firmly wrapped around hers. “From the physical plane to the spiritual. From earth to the highest heaven.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  His smile softened. “You don’t have to.”

  Soaring, her spirit lifted like an imprisoned bird that had finally been set free. She looked down again, but the bedroom scene had been replaced by the dim outline of the island of Heavenly Daze, recognizable by the streetlights that formed the shape of a cross. Then that image, too, receded into darkness, and she found the courage to look up into a sea of blackness populated by white stars that moved past her at a dizzying rate.

  A tingling sensation sparked in her head and flowed along her arms and legs until she looked down and realized she didn’t have arms or legs—not like she had previously known, anyway. She could see her limbs—and never had they looked stronger or healthier—but they were as ethereal as air.

  Caleb must have noticed her glance and her look of puzzlement, for he was smiling when she met his gaze. “You are spirit now,” he said simply, his strong arm holding her as they whizzed through the atmosphere. “Your mortal body has worn out, so it is best you leave it behind. You will receive a new one at the Resurrection.”

  Speechless, Olympia brought her hand up before her eyes and saw the translucent outline of fingers. “If I don’t have a body, Caleb, what am I seeing?”

  “Memories. Because living on a spirit plane will be new to you, you will relate to others much as you did on earth. I know it seems confusing now, but soon everything will be clear. Your physical body has died, your soul has flown, and your spirit lives in Christ Jesus our Lord. Until the Resurrection you will live in heaven as a spirit being, seeing and hearing with spiritual eyes and ears. You will recognize others you knew on earth, but they will be spirit, too. Only One possesses a physical body here—the Son of Man, who lives in glorified flesh. You will know him by the scars he bears in his hands and feet.”

  Olympia fell silent as the significance of those words registered. She would see her Savior … the thought left her quivering.

  She fell silent as they flew through a space devoid of landmarks, but the air around them vibrated with sound. Words zipped past her spirit ears with the ferocity of bullets, and after a moment of listening she realized she was hearing petitions and praises from people on earth.

  Now, too, she noticed they were not alone. Other forms traveled with her and Caleb—bewildered, delighted souls safe in the embrace of angelic escorts, many of whom picked up other angel guardians along the way. The heavens here pulsated with celestial singing, anthems of wonder and praise.

  As the sky around them went from violet to black, Caleb tightened his grip upon her. His eyes narrowed in concentration as four other angels appeared at his side, all of them intently focused upon something Olympia could not see. She wondered at their concern and caution. Only when she saw another approaching light, sparkling and bright, did she begin to understand.

  “We want her!” A voice, high and reedy, came from the center of the whirling ball of brilliance. “She doubts, she fears, she is not worthy!”

  “You cannot have her!” Caleb’s voice echoed like thunder through the heavens. “She has been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, and he has clothed her in his righteousness! Now go, you disobedient and rebellious servant!”

  Olympia watched the light quiver before the authority in Caleb’s voice, then it fled away into darkness. Her soul thrilled with a sudden rush of emotion.

  Oh, how wrong she’d been to think she could do anything to prepare for this journey. For the demonic adversary was right—she did doubt, she did fear, and she was not worthy of heaven. The frail strength she had tried to cultivate shriveled to weakness in the onslaught of that gleaming enemy, but Caleb was strong and the One he served even stronger… .

  Shivering, she nestled closer to Caleb’s strong frame. “How long will it take?”

  He chuckled softly. “Time does not exist here, dear one. You are still thinking in terms of human reference.”

  “But we’ve been flying for a while, haven’t we?” Instinctively, she looked for her watch, then laughed at the sight of her translucent arm.

  “In the span of earthly time, we’ve just left your bedroom. Annie is kneeling by your side. In a moment, she will call for me … and I will answer.”

  Panic surged through her. “You’ll leave me?”

  “You have nothing to fear, Missy.”

  Struck dumb by such authority from the butler who had always been so quiet and subservient, Olympia stared upward as they traversed yet another boundary. The skies brightened to the purest aqua in which a million sparks of diamond light twinkled. In the distance she glimpsed the tall verdant canopies of a rich forest, while in the foreground rose a gleaming temple of the purest white stone.

  A host of angelic messengers greeted them outside a shimmering gate. As the gates opened, she and her escorts passed through on a tide of song that carried them toward an open area where spotless columns stood upon alabaster stairs she could not feel beneath her feet. An assortment of angelic harpists sat upon these steps, playing instruments unlike any she had ever seen or heard. They looked upward as they played, and she followed their gazes and beheld yet more harpists gathered around a throne. Behind the musicians, four astounding creatures sang, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come!”

  Olympia trembled as she beheld the throne of the Almighty, lifted high behind a crystal sea that shimmered with the light of a thousand suns. Waves of glory shone from the throne, and she felt her spirit tremble before the power of the being who sat upon it. Around the throne, scores of angels waved palm branches, and something in her wanted to fall to her knees with these lovely creatures, waving whatever sprig of greenery or feathering she could happen to find.

  “Look,” Caleb commanded, and she obeyed. The throne of the Almighty rested upon two pillars, the left bearing inscriptions in many languages, including English. The Creator had carved the word righteousness into the left pillar, while the right bore the word justice. Above the throne hovered a pair of mighty angels, their wings softly stirring the air.

  Suddenly she was transported over the sea, over the harpists, over even the seraphim. She knelt at the foot of the throne, close enough that she could have reached out and touched the all-too-fleshly foot that rested inches from her trembling hands.

  Drawn by a force she could not deny, Olympia lifted her eyes to the One who sat in the center of the universe. She expected a being so bright and powerful that one glance would shatter her into a million atoms, each particle too tiny to ever be of use again, but when her gaze lifted she saw … Jesus.

  She saw holiness reflected in his white robe and his gleaming hair. She saw power in the strength of his hands. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw compassion and love.

  The altogether lovely One leaned forward and smiled when she finally met his gaze. “Olympia, my beloved.” He spoke in the warm voice of a father who has spent years yearning for a long-lost child. “I have waited so long to welcome you home.”

  Olympia lowered her arms to the floor, prostrating herself in the presence of Majesty. Hundreds of other human spirits bowed in various places around the throne. For each the Savior had a smile and a personal greeting, but still she felt utterly cherished and adored. The Lord of Glory had chosen her; he had brought her home.

  She wasn’t sure how long she knelt in adoration and gratitude, but Caleb’s gentle touch roused her to movement. “Come,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Others are w
aiting to greet you.”

  An instant later she found herself standing on a large balcony suspended above the azure heavens. Hundreds of people milled about her in transparent forms that had the features and shapes of human bodies without the substance. “They are incorporeal,” Caleb said, apparently reading her thoughts, “spirit beings, like you.”

  Suddenly, Edmund stood before her. Even if she had not seen the outline of his former self, she would have recognized the warmth of his smile, the joy in his heart, and the kindness of his spirit.

  “Olympia!” Love warmed his voice. “Welcome to the kingdom of God!”

  “Edmund!” She hurried to hug him, then felt an instant’s frustration when she realized she could not. But Edmund had mastered life in the spirit realm, and when she closed her eyes his spirit drew near to hers, enveloping her in a way that left no room for doubts or frustration. Breathing in his essence, Olympia realized this was the warmest embrace she had ever experienced. Two spirits united in love and holiness… . As close as she and Edmund had been on earth, this was far more thrilling.

  Edmund was smiling when she opened her eyes. “Welcome, darling. So many people have been waiting for you.”

  Speechless with amazed joy, Olympia shifted her gaze in time to see her mother, her father, Ferrell, and Ruth Ann gathered in a small half-circle. She embraced each of them as she had embraced Edmund, and as she drew near to each of them she marveled that such closeness could exist between two human souls.

  She smiled after greeting her former sister-in-law, realizing that her feelings of antipathy had completely vanished.

  “We have no place for resentment here,” Ruth Ann said, a smile lighting her features. “Resentment is a product of competition, and here there is no need to compete. We are all loved by the Savior, all redeemed by his precious blood. We are one in the Lord, and as one, we are equal.”