The Long Way Home

by Phillip Overton

  Chapter 32

  Simon dreamt of the ocean. The sound of waves crashing upon the shore, their gentle rumble as they first broke followed by an effervescent rush as the water lapped against the sandy beach played continuously in his head. He dreamt of the sun warm against his skin, of clear blue skies filled with the cries of seagulls flying overhead. A dream so real he could smell the scent of the ocean, a tangy mix of salt spray and seaweed that filled his nostrils. Where he lay he could feel sand, soft like powder beneath his body. Cool and comforting, not like the scalding heat of summertime. He heard a distant horn blast, followed shortly after by the rumbling roar of a train passing nearby.

  He sat up startled, feeling the grains of sand still clinging to the side of his face. It was just like his dream, only it was morning and the rising sun glaring directly at him made it certain that he was no longer dreaming. In front of him a long jetty stretched out into the sea, actually it looked more like a harbour of some sort. In the distance, he saw rock walls reaching out on either side towards a grassy bluff. Small waves rolled in from the open sea and crashed softly against the shore in front of him. Seaweed sat strewn where the high tide line had been, a flock of seagulls had gathered below it. Behind him, he could still hear the last of what must have been a long freight train rumbling past.

  “Good morning Simon. I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some breakfast.” He turned around at the sound of Peter’s voice in time to see him returning from wherever he had been and sit down on the sand beside him. He handed Simon a small brown paper bag containing a hot meat pie with tomato sauce, and a carton of chocolate milk. “I found a nice little bakery on the other side of the railway line while you were sleeping. It sure is a great morning isn’t it.”

  Simon stared sleepily while he brushed the sand off his face and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, firstly at Peter and then out into the vast blue water of the harbour.

  “Are we in heaven?” Simon asked politely.

  “No.” Peter laughed. “Why do you ask that?”

  “It just reminds me of a dream I had once, I mean, there was a beach and rocks nearby, and I just….” Simon’s thoughts trailed off as he played with the silver crucifix pendant that still dangled from around his neck. Although everyone had later told him it was probably just vivid brain activity while he was in the coma, his experience yesterday at the cemetery had him believing again that he had in fact stood on the verge of heaven. “Where are we then anyway?”

  “Coffs Harbour, we’re about 606 kilometres north of Sydney, on the shore of the harbour by the jetty to be exact. That’s the marina over there to the left where all the fishing trawlers tie up. Behind it there’s a path along the rock wall that connects to the big, grassy bluff you can see. We can go for a walk out there later if you like.”

  “How did we end up here?” Simon asked, still puzzled. “The last thing I remember we were on a freight train heading out of Gosford.”

  “We stopped here for a red signal in the early hours of the morning. I picked you up and carried you down off the train, across the road and over the sand dunes to where we are now.” Peter replied as he stared out intently over the sea. The sun now sat just above the horizon, rays of sunshine danced across the water in the harbour.

  Simon looked down at the food in his lap, the smell wafted up to his nostrils awakening his hunger. Taking the meat pie out of the brown paper bag, he began to devour it hungrily. Amongst everything that had happened last night, he had jumped onboard the train with an empty stomach. He was so hungry that a simple meat pie tasted like the best meal he had ever eaten. Simon watched a flock of seagulls gather in front of him, hoping to salvage any stray crumbs of pastry that should happen to blow their way before finishing the last of his meat pie and washing it down with the rest of the chocolate milk.

  As Peter turned to look at him, Simon noticed a warm, gentle smile spread across his face. He had never been able to tell how old Peter looked. He could easily be in his late 20’s to possibly even early 40’s. He would have been more at home on the silver screens of Hollywood than in the worn, green short sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans that he wore. It seemed odd for such an old, frayed and tattered shirt to look so freshly washed and ironed. His elastic sided work boots also looked worn out, soles split, toes peeled back with the steel safety caps showing through. They looked as though he’d walked a lifetime in them. Yet they didn’t look dirty.

  “Do Angels eat food?” Simon asked as he wiped the ring of chocolate milk away from his mouth.

  “We’re not earthly creatures Simon, but I reckon that pie tasted mighty good.” Peter spoke above the sound of the waves that continued to crash gently against the shore. He stood to his feet, then reaching into his shirt pocket pulled out a small bread roll. He let out a loud whistle and the flock of seagulls that had gathered nearby seemed to obey his call, moving in close as he began breaking the bread roll into small pieces and throwing them one by one to the gulls, watching as they squawked and fought over each piece.

  Simon stood also and walked over to where Peter stood feeding the seagulls. Peter reached into his pocket and produced another bread roll which he then placed in Simon’s hands, leaving him to feed the seagulls while he picked up the empty milk carton and paper bag.

  “Hey, Peter?” Simon asked as he threw a piece of bread high in the air, watching as a seagull with only one leg caught it before flying away.

  “Something you want to ask me Simon?” Peter instinctively replied as though he was prepared for the questions that were about to come.

  “If you’re s’posed to be my guardian Angel, then how come my life has sort of, well sucked? Aren’t you guys meant to look after us and make sure nothing bad happens?” Simon asked, trying to sound polite.

  “Hmmm.” He paused for a moment before gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “I remember only yesterday a young boy telling his best friend that God himself had never hurt him, only people. You see these birds Simon? They don’t have a house to live in, yet God sees to it that each one finds a place to sleep and has food to eat. They make a nest and then teach their young to spread their wings and fly. I hope you know that you are more important to God than a seagull.”

  “How come I haven’t seen you around more often though?” Simon asked. “I can think of a lot of times when you could have helped me.”

  “Really?” Peter posed the question to him playfully. “Then I can think of a thousand times more when I actually have without you even realising.”

  “You have?” Simon pondered for a moment as his mind scanned eagerly through his lifetime of memories, trying to picture times or places he may have seen Peter.

  “You see Simon, it’s important to remember that almost every bad situation in life is a direct result of people carrying around a lifetime of hurt inside of them that ultimately affects others. It is an imperfect world that you live in after all, but it’s also important to remember that God always offers a way out, and yes there are times when he uses Angels to intervene on his behalf. I guess nearly everyone at some point in their life can recall an event they put down to a miracle, or recognise a moment where they’ve admitted that it must have been a guardian Angel that saved them.”

  Simon thought about that for a moment but didn’t know how to reply. Life as he had known it began to take on a surreal feeling. Yesterday already seemed like a year ago, losing his mother felt like a painful, yet distant memory and now, right now, he still had more questions than answers.

  “The time I nearly died and was in a coma, was it you who saved me? What really happened that night?”

  “I thought that would have been obvious.” Peter replied reassuringly. “I was both the green spark that came between you and the overhead wires and the one who caught you as you fell from the roof of the train. Here’s the other thing though Simon. Sometimes God will take people, put them in the right place at the right time and use them instead to carry out his purpose. Like Ray the railwa
y worker who got you safely to hospital that night, his life was forever changed from that moment. While the old saying that seeing is believing is sadly often true, the most powerful thing that a person can ever have in life is faith. Faith is having the power to believe in the things you cannot see.”

  “All the times that I’ve seen you though, you never once tried to stop my Mum from hurting me, why?” Simon asked sadly, trying to contain the bitterness that rose in the back of his throat.

  “No, your mother unfortunately was caught between God’s plan for your life and the Devil’s desire to see that plan destroyed.” Peter tried to explain to him. “God always provides ample opportunity for everyone to either accept or reject him. To intervene would have robbed her of that opportunity. It is a conscientious decision that everyone must make in their life, and in the end everyone has to accept the consequences of that decision. Your mother is dead Simon not because of God, but because of the decision she made. You see, the Devil doesn’t come to reward his followers, he purely seeks to rob, kill and destroy by whatever means possible. He saw her as an opportunity to rob you of God’s plan for your life. She chose to give him that opportunity.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t see her in my dream.” Simon said sadly as he began to understand clearly what Peter was saying.

  “That was a vision God gave you Simon. Some of which has already come to pass, the rest still waiting to be revealed.” Peter smiled, returning his gaze from the sea before reaching into the pocket of his shirt and pulling out something small which he then held out for Simon. “Here, it’s not the first time I’ve given you a train ticket if you recall.”

  Simon slowly reached out and took the ticket from him. The small cardboard stub simply read, ‘child concession single Coffs Harbour to Murwillumbah’. Simon held the ticket silently in his hand. It reminded him of the time he had met Peter in the small room at the back of the Church Of Christ in Wyoming, he had given Simon tickets to take his Poppy on a steam train excursion to Newcastle. Except this time there was only one.

  “You’re not coming with me, are you?” Simon asked sadly, already understanding what the answer to his question would be.

  “No Simon, it’s your destiny, not mine.” Peter replied as he gazed out across the blue ocean. “Sometimes in life all people are waiting for is the right train to come along. By the time you arrive shortly before nine o’clock tonight, your Dad and Sally will be waiting on the platform to meet you. All you have to do is have faith that life from now on is going to be a whole lot better.”

  “Will I ever see you again?” Simon asked, still puzzled by the answer to his previous question.

  “Not like this.” Peter shook his head slowly. “This isn’t the way things usually work. Over time we’ll meet again in life, but most likely you won’t realise until afterwards. An Angel will only reveal themselves when God requires us to intervene on his behalf.”

  They stood quietly in the warm morning sun, the cries of seagulls flying overhead drowning out the gentle crash of the waves breaking on the shore. The scent of the ocean filled their nostrils, a tangy mix of salt spray and seaweed rotting on the soft, golden sand. In the distance a ship’s horn sounded a lonely cry as a fishing trawler sailed out of the harbour in search of its next catch.

  “It sure is a great morning isn’t it.” Peter finally broke the pleasant silence. “We’ve got until late this afternoon before the train is due. What do you say to going for a walk with a friend to the top of the bluff over there and looking out over the sea?”