Cap looks sheepish, and Holly knows he still feels guilty, though everyone has assured him that he doesn’t need to.
Fiona stands up next to Buckhunter in the crowd. “If I may?” she asks Holly.
“Of course,” Holly says, holding out a hand.
“I’ve had the chance to assess Hal’s mental state as well as to oversee his physical recovery,” Fiona says. “I know we’re all like family here, so I feel comfortable sharing with you that he’s got some very clear deficits in memory. However, he did seem to know why he’s been digging the holes.”
The faces around the bistro are sympathetic and concerned, and as she looks around at them, Holly knows with certainty that this won’t be the last time they have to gather to discuss the future and well-being of one of their own.
“Apparently he panicked last summer when the tropical storm was headed our way,” Fiona says. “He thought that his house might be destroyed, and with it, Sadie’s ashes.”
“Oh, Sadie!” Glen says, the ache in her heart for her late friend etched all over her face. “He misses her so much.”
“He does.” Fiona nods. “In fact, he was so worried that he decided to bury the urn and come back for it after the storm had passed, only—”
“He forgot where it was,” a chorus of voices says, the words coming out at slightly different paces as realization dawns over the crowd.
“That’s my understanding.” Fiona smiles sadly. “And he didn’t want anyone to know that he’d forgotten, so he’s been out digging for months, trying to find the urn so he can bring Sadie home.”
“What about the holes in his own driveway?” Maria Agnelli asks. “He made a big ruckus about putting up video cameras and finding out who did it, but you mean to tell us it was just him digging those holes all along?”
“I guess he either forgot that he’d dug in his own yard, or he was trying to cover up for not remembering where Sadie’s ashes were. It’s kind of hard to say what he might have been thinking at that point,” Fiona says. “The aging mind can play cruel tricks.”
Tongues cluck and heads shake as people think about all the holes that have popped up around the island these past few months. To think poor Hal Pillory had been skulking around in the dark with a shovel, trying to remember where he’d buried his late wife’s ashes…a wave of pity and concern spreads through the crowd as they imagine it.
“His daughter is flying down here as soon as possible to be with him and to figure out what her next steps will be in terms of his care.” Fiona sits down next to Buckhunter again and puts her hands between her knees. Holly knows this is news that Fiona hadn’t wanted to share—after all, it opens up a conversation in the minds of many about what will happen to them when the time comes for someone to step in and start making decisions about their care—and there’s always the chance that people might shoot the messenger. Being the bearer of bad news isn’t new for Fiona, but she’s keenly aware that the islanders might point fingers at her as the person who ordered Hal’s daughter to come down and retrieve him.
Cap puts a hand in the air; Holly points to him and he stands. “This is one of those things in life that none of us look forward to,” he says, eyes flashing with emotion as he pulls himself to his full height. “And I just want to say I’m grateful I don’t have any kids to step in and boss me around, but it means you all are stuck with me until the bitter end. Sorry.” He pretends to sit down again as people chuckle politely. “All kidding aside,” Cap says, standing straight again. “Hal is a valued member of our community. What happens to him is his family’s decision, but how we help him is ours. So I’d like to suggest that we find Sadie for him and bring her home.”
Heads nod all over the room. Holly looks around and sees set faces—grim and accepting—as well as a few tears.
“I think that’s a great idea, Cap, but how will we know where to look if he doesn’t even remember where he buried her?” Holly asks.
“The urn is a tin box,” Cap says simply. “How about a metal detector?”
The group goes wild as people spring to action. The hands of those who own metal detectors go up all over the room (these are, after all, Florida retirees, Holly reminds herself), and everyone seems to have a shovel to offer.
“Okay, okay,” Holly says loudly, holding up both hands to silence them. “This is a great idea, and I think it takes precedence for now over the plan Bonnie and I originally came here to pitch to you tonight. But I just want to say that filling these holes has been a huge pain in the butt, so if you’re going to dig, make sure you fill, okay?”
The talking and plan-making kick into high gear again the minute the words are out of Holly’s mouth, so she goes over to the table where Bonnie’s talking to the triplets and pulls out a chair. “Got room for one more?”
“Sit down, sugar.” Bonnie pats the table. “We’ve always got room for you.”
The hunt for Sadie Pillory’s ashes starts the next morning after a surprise pre-dawn rainfall. Water drips from the palm fronds and evaporates almost instantly when it hits the warm, dry ground. Holly scratches her upper arm as a bug lands and nips at her skin. She scuffs the hard-packed sand at the dock with her tennis shoe and readjusts her Yankees cap.
“Now, the island is divided into sections,” Cap says, hands on his hips. “Jake is here to show us a map and to assign us locations.” He steps aside so Jake can open the map of Christmas Key that he uses to identify locations on the island. Wyatt Bender takes one end of the rolled poster and holds it as Jake unspools the rest.
Holly had stopped in at Mistletoe Morning Brew as soon as it opened, knowing that Jake would be there getting his coffee. She’d wrestled with how to let him in on the plan to help Hal without giving away that there had been a meeting he hadn’t been invited to, but in the end it was much easier than she’d imagined.
“Hal told Fiona he’s been digging the holes because he buried Sadie’s ashes before the big storm last summer, and now he can’t remember where they are,” she’d blurted, stepping up behind him at the counter.
Jake turned around slowly. “I’ll be damned,” he’d said coolly. “That’s not what I expected.”
“Me either. A bunch of us are going to meet up at the dock at seven and spread out to see if we can find Sadie’s ashes.”
“More holes?” He cocked an eyebrow as he picked up the coffee Ellen had set on the counter in front of him.
“Not just random ones: we’re using metal detectors this time.”
“Ah, of course. Because this is Florida, and probably two-thirds of the island has one tucked into a closet or forgotten in a garage.”
“See? Now you’re getting it.” Holly clapped him on the shoulder before she remembered the animosity in his eyes the night they’d spoken in the B&B office. Her hand fell to her side.
Jake stared at her for a minute with a gaze that burned like hot coals. “Anyway,” he said, “I’d be glad to help out. Hal’s a good guy.”
“I know. His daughter is coming down to figure out what the next steps are, but we’d really like to be able to give Sadie back to him,” Holly had said, remembering her former teacher. Sadie was a gentle woman with a reading voice that had almost lulled Holly to sleep on warm afternoons. She’d learned to love Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie because of Sadie Pillory, and she was hoping to give that same gift to Mexi and Mori now by warming up the other islanders to the idea of pitching in when it came to the boys.
Jake walked over to the counter on the side of the shop to add a little cream and sugar to his black coffee. Holly had followed.
“So what do you need from me? I don’t have a metal detector,” Jake said, tearing open a little pink envelope and dumping the sugar into his cup.
“Your map of the island. You know, the one where you divided Christmas Key up into quadrants or whatever.”
“It’s more than just quadrants—it’s a grid. And it would definitely help you.” He threw the sugar packet into the
silver trash can under the counter and grabbed a plastic stirring stick from a jar. “You want me to bring it to the dock at seven?”
“Yes, please,” Holly said, smiling at him.
Jake snapped the lid onto his coffee and strode to the door with purpose. “Fine. I’ll be there. Oh, hey, Ellen?” he’d called out, pausing with one hand on the doorknob. Ellen stopped what she was doing behind the counter and looked at him. “No donuts for this one,” he’d said, pointing at Holly, “unless you know the Heimlich.” A hint of Jake’s good humor passed over his face and Holly had almost been able to imagine that nothing was amiss between them. Almost.
She stands at the dock now, his teasing words from the coffee shop ringing in her head as Jake points out squares and locations on the grid. Her neighbors raise hands and offer to take certain areas, and as they peel off and head to golf carts laden with shovels and metal detectors, the gray clouds part over the water, revealing a sky of muted pinks and yellows. It’s going to be a gorgeous day. Holly inhales as she watches the morning sky turn into a watercolor palette. Hopefully it will be the day they bring Sadie back home for Hal.
Vance and Calista’s trip to Key West with the boys to have Mori checked out at the hospital is a quick one. They’re back on the island within twenty-four hours, and Calista is behind the counter of the salon when Holly drops in to see Millie in the middle of the hunt for Sadie’s ashes.
“How’s the search going?” Calista asks, leaning her forearms on the front counter. She’s been there since morning ordering inventory and setting up a calendar for the summer on Millie’s computer. Within the first couple of weeks of her being there, Millie had started to count on Calista for duties beyond her job as a massage therapist, and the new role had morphed into a sort of office manager/massage therapist/front desk woman. Calista seems to like the extended work load, and she can’t be too upset about the chance to make more money, given that Vance is still at home with the boys and hers is the only source of income at the moment.
Holly looks at her watch. It’s already one-thirty. “The search is hard. There’s a ton of sand and a huge patch of forest out by my place, so this could take much longer than we’d originally planned.”
“Do you think he made it out as far as the trees back by your house?”
“I know he did,” Holly says, thinking of the night when she’d caught someone prowling around on her property. “I just don’t know how far into the wooded area he actually went.”
“How’s Hal doing?”
“He’s home. His daughter got in late last night and she’s taken over his care, which frees us all up to hunt for Sadie.”
“It’s so sad and beautiful,” Calista says, her eyes dreamy as she looks out the window and onto Main Street. “To think that he was so worried about her ashes during a storm that he buried them. It’s kind of poetic.”
It is sad, but for more reasons than Calista knows. Seeing her neighbors become feeble and forgetful is yet another reminder to Holly of the passage of time, and also another cattle prod to the rear end that reminds her of the need to keep expanding. To keep bringing new life to the island. To keep growing and changing—even when it isn’t easy.
“Anyhow,” Holly says, patting the front counter twice with both hands like she’s waking someone up from a hypnotic state. “How’s Mori?”
Calista pulls her arms off the counter and stands upright. She picks up a few stray pens and puts them in the cup next to the computer. “He’s good. The doctor who treated him in Key West said the whole thing was the best case scenario. If Fiona hadn’t found him when she did, then…” She stops, her eyes tearing up. “I’m sorry,” Calista says, looking at the ceiling as she puts both ring fingers to the corner of her eyes to stop the flow.
“Oh my God, don’t be sorry,” Holly says, reaching across the counter and putting a hand on Calista’s arm. “He’s your baby.”
“That was the scariest moment of my life, seeing him like that.”
“But he’s fine, and I’ve talked to everyone on Main Street about pulling in bistro tables and chairs at night—anything that might serve as a ladder to get over the pool fence—so there’s no way it’ll happen again. I can’t help you much with the ocean, but I can promise you that the pool will be safe.”
“Thank you, Holly. I hate that my family is making everyone change the way they do things, but—”
“Stop. Seriously—it’s nothing. We need to think of the future, too. Mexi and Mori aren’t the only kids who’ll ever visit Christmas Key, and I want things to be safe for everyone.”
Calista looks at the shiny black countertop. “Well, thanks again. It means a lot to us.”
Holly goes around behind the counter and opens her arms, pulling the shorter woman into a tight hug. “I’ve said it before,” she says, Calista’s head tucking neatly beneath her chin, “but we’re glad you’re here, and we want to help. The happiness and well-being of anyone who lives on this island is important to me.”
Calista squeezes Holly back before letting go. “I guess you’d better get back out there and keep looking for Sadie.”
“You’re right. Oh,” Holly says, remembering why she’d stopped into the salon in the first place. “Is Millie out?”
“Yeah, she left with Iris and Emily about an hour ago. Said they were going to search around Snowflake Banks and that they’d be back to the B&B at five, unless someone radios or calls to say they’ve found anything before then.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Calista!”
Holly is back in her cart and driving toward home to make a sandwich and grab Pucci when a thought hits her: if Hal had been that worried about something happening to Sadie during the storm, then it makes sense that he wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone as the wind and rain whipped across the island, howled up Main Street, and knocked over branches and trees. He would have wanted her to have some peace and solace until he could come back for her. She rolls to a stop in the middle of Cinnamon Lane and picks up her cell phone to text Jake.
Meet me at the chapel. Bring a shovel and a metal detector.
Holly turns her cart around. Pucci and the sandwich will have to wait; she knows where Hal left Sadie.
Chapter 29
“What are we doing here?” Jake screeches to a stop in the sand next to Holly’s cart. “Did Hal remember where he buried her?” He gets out and walks over to where Holly is kneeling.
“He wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone,” Holly says, looking up at Jake’s handsome face as she crouches in front of a single headstone behind the chapel. She runs her hands over the weathered surface, tracing the carved letters with her fingers: Christmas Key’s original settlers will always be here in spirit, if not in body. But beware: just like Santa, they’ll know when you’ve been naughty!
“But no one is actually buried here,” Jake says, pointing at the headstone that Frank Baxter had commissioned to make his dying wife laugh one more time. He’d promised her that he would erect it behind the chapel, but because the island’s soft sand shifted too easily, it wouldn’t really be a final resting place for anyone.
“That’s true,” Holly says, standing. “But you have to admit, there’s a certain humor and a light to this area that makes you feel like you’re not alone.” She looks up into the tall trees. Almost impossibly, a slight wind picks up, shifting the branches above enough that a beam of sunlight breaks through. It falls directly over the grave stone. Chills run up and down Holly’s body and she rubs her bare arms in spite of the fact that it’s a warm April afternoon.
“I’m not gonna lie—that was kind of creepy.” Jake’s eyes are cast heavenward. “Do you really think she’s around here somewhere?”
“I do. In fact,” she says, looking at Jake’s profile, “I think there’s a peace to this particular spot that attracts all of the good things that come and go from Christmas Key.”
Jake looks at her wordlessly.
“I mean,” she pauses, not sure how she wants to say this,
“I think this is where I’d find my grandparents, if I wanted to feel their presence. And when Pucci goes—” she stops, unable to finish the thought. “Well, you know. And even an unborn baby might find its way to this spot to be surrounded by—” Jake holds up a hand to stop her.
He looks at the headstone in the sunlight that hasn’t stopped shining. Holly isn’t sure if he’s going to yell at her and tell her to mind her own business, or whether he might break into quiet sobs. She has no idea where he stands with Bridget’s miscarriage, or if he’s even processed any of it yet. It’s hard not being able to reach out to him and offer comfort, but the things that have happened between them feel as heavy and solid as the gravestone before them.
“Yeah,” he says, looking around the small clearing. “This might be the spot.”
Instead of hugging him, Holly returns to the golf cart and leaves him with his thoughts for a moment. With her back to Jake, she lifts the tools they’ll need off the back of his cart and waits.
After a minute or two, Jake walks over to her. “Let’s do this,” he says, holding out a hand. Without another word, Holly passes him the shovel and switches on the metal detector.
“You headed to the Ho Ho tonight?” Jake and Holly are riding out to Hal Pillory’s together after finding Sadie’s ashes behind the chapel.
She looks out at the sandy road as Jake drives them across the island at top speed in his official police golf cart. The seats are tan-colored leather bucket seats up front with a drink holder between them, and the back is a wide bench. Holly’s got the tin container that holds Sadie’s ashes resting in her lap.
The Edge of Paradise: Christmas Key Book Three Page 22
