PART ONE

PROLOGUE

B eth Morgan sits alone on the porch of the funeral home. She slowly rocks herself back and forth and back again, searching for comfort.

The sound of the old rocking chair does not provide it.

Her husband attempts to bring it, though he is not able.

And the hordes of people around her, are just that…a horde.

Alone in her misery, Beth sits and rocks herself back and forth and back again.

Questions whirl around in her head as if in a cesspool of hopelessness.

They say on the day that Thad died, he went to heaven.

Did he?

They say it was a peaceful death.

Was it?

They say he was in no pain.

How do they know?

They say I could hold my boy just one more time, before he goes to heaven.

So I did.

I held him for a long time.

Then…

They took him away… away from my arms.

Away from me, his mother.

They say I will heal in time.

But I won’t.

They say that I can have more children after his death.

But I can’t.

They say all these things and more to me.

But I stop listening.

I am tired of listening to what they say.

I am tired of them.

They are noise. Like cymbals crashing, they distract me from my search for comfort, and more importantly, peace.

They don’t understand.

And worse, Andrew doesn’t understand.

Beth searches the scrapbook of her mind for every image of Thad she can hold on to, begging for peace. She becomes fully aware that she will no longer be able to hold her son. No longer will she hear his sweet voice. And no longer will he need her. She won’t be able to push him on a swing or play ball with him or watch him grow up. He will be out of reach and that is not acceptable to her or her sanity.

Like a drowning victim at sea, Beth is desperate. Floundering in deep waves of sadness, she attempts to reach out for a lifesaver. But where is it? She retreats further into her mind to fervently dig into the abyss for something she can hold on to. She leaves reason behind, and crawls into a cave of denial and into the depths of her soul. There her thoughts become her only comfort, and the voice in her mind, her only friend. The preserver of her sanity must reside in a new reality.

On that day, the day of Thad’s death, Beth stops listening to what they say…she stops believing in what they believe. She listens to only one voice now. That one voice is the voice that takes up residency in her mind. It is the voice of counterfeit comfort and peace. It is the voice of artificial safety. It’s a very special voice that is born on the day Thad dies.

This secret inner voice tells her that those things that "they" told her are not true. The voice tells her that Thaddeus is out there. He is not gone. All she has to do is search hard enough for him. The voice tells her that she will be able to be with her son again. And he will call her Mommy. This is her reality.

On the day of Thaddeus’ death, Beth allows the calming voice to take over. The secret voice that whispers its message to her over and over as it penetrates her being, becoming the motivation that she needs to survive.

Two days later, Beth greets the mourners on the steps of the large Methodist Church begrudgingly wearing the appropriate black hat and somber dress. Contrary to her attire, she also wears a simple smile on her face and slight glint in her eyes. The hordes can’t know it, her husband doesn’t know it, but hope has found her. Though there is a tombstone with her son’s name on it, Beth believes with all her heart that Thaddeus is still alive. All she must do now… is find him.

Setting out on her mission she travels to a neighboring town; Beth has some important business to tend to.

She enters the shop with a mission and a certainty. She quietly lays back in the reclining chair to let the professional do his job. The dark haired beauty closes her eyes and dreams of Thaddeus.

She wakes to an unfamiliar voice in her ear saying,

I am finished.

Opening her eyes she feels pain. But this pain is not the sorrowful one found in her broken heart, it is a good pain. It has purpose.

Looking to her left arm, the blood is puddled up between and around the words etched there. These are words that she would live by. These are the words from her mind that had quietly taken up residency in her heart. And now too, were in permanent black ink on her forearm.

Beth’s broken heart skips a beat as she mouths the words there, Always Thaddeus. For the first time in several days, she smiles. Pulling her sleeve down she sets off on her search. This mission will consume Beth for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER 1

The Island

A s the late summer sun falls lower in the afternoon sky, the hour approaches for her arrival. Eager anticipation fills Andrew as if he were back in sixth grade and going on his first date.

She’s coming today! he says aloud to Toby, his oversized shotgun riding mutt. Surprised by the volume of his own voice echoing in the cab of his truck, he looks to his best friend for reassurance. How do I look, ole fella?

Toby tilts his head in Andrew’s direction and shows his teeth.

Thanks bud! I’ll take that as, ‘You look quite debonair, sexy, and most handsome, my man.’ He laughs and rubs Toby roughly under his chin.

Andrew continues, Her ride from the mainland ought to be a smooth one. The weather couldn’t be better with blue skies and a slight north wind. The water is glass today. The oversized ferry hull will slide right through it with ease.

Wondering why he sounds exactly like Ray, the local weatherman, rattling off the water conditions on the early morning news channel, he is interrupted for a brief moment by Sandy’s smiling face. Realizing that his mind-portrait paints a much younger face than he will see today, he returns to his more immediate concerns - the nagging questions that are accompanied by unknown answers.

Will I be able to draw on those feelings of the past? Or will we be strangers who once knew each other?

Do I really know how I feel?

No, not really.

Do we really know each other?

No, not really.

Was it foolish for me to ask her here?

No, not really.

Like Toby, Andrew stares out the front window, not knowing the answers.

The drive over to the ferry mooring is a short one. And for that he is glad. He is more nervous than he ever thought he would be meeting Sandy after all these years. Andrew passes Joe’s Crab and Lobster Shack with the attached bait shop on his way.

He looks over to see the usual crowd of locals sitting in their customary spots, along with a couple of tourists who have joined them outside on the picnic benches. Andrew is sure they are discussing the terrible shape the world is in or how good or bad the crabbin’ or fishin’ had been that day. It was always the same conversations with the same guys sharing the same opinions.

It’s a fishermen-only kind of imaginary club where the rules are etched in their brains, just as they were with their fathers before them. Always the same, and ‘sameness’ is what Andrew likes. As expected, they wave or nod as his truck rattles along the dirt road beside them. And just as typically, he nods back.

Andrew feels the chill in the air teasing of the approaching winter. Soon it will be time to batten down the cottage and head south. He notes the coolness but does not want to acknowledge that his days on the island are numbered. He loves this place along with the Mainers who make their homes here.

Not surprisingly, two of those people, Sue and Samuel are out in their small garden in front of their wind-blown shingled cottage digging in the beds with their usual attention to detail. Their flowers are the prettiest on the island and they know it. Andrew stops the truck as he typically does. The pair cease their digging and look in his direction.

What’s happening, Sam and Sue? Andrew yells, as they both are hard of hearing.

Oh, not much Samuel yells back. Just out here diggin’ and piddlin’ with my beautiful bride! He always calls Sue his beautiful bride. And his answer is always the same, Just out here diggin’ and piddlin’ with my beautiful bride!

Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Andrew Morgan? Sue beams.

Smiling, he thinks for a second about asking them for one of their pink roses to give to Sandy when she arrives, but then decides better of it and says, Your roses are as beautiful and as fragrant as ever. I always enjoy their scent as I ride by.

Where are you going so late in the afternoon? Samuel asks.

Oh, I am going to the ferry to pick up a friend who will be visiting for a few days, Andrew sheepishly answers back.

With that, Sue looks out from under her wide-brimmed hat, getting totally engaged in the conversation. She smiles in a devilish way. You have a gooooood visit with her now, ya hear, Andrew? mocking his Tennessee accent as she talks. Make every moment count, dear, she adds.

He nods his head as he stores away her wise words somewhere in his brain. Smiling, he knows why he loves that old gal. She knows him better than anyone else around here and even better than his own mother. It seems he never has to say much and she knows just what is going on in his head.

I got to be on my way now! I don’t wanna be late! I will bring her round to see you in the next few days. Andrew shouts as he starts up his old truck again.

Okay now, they both say in unison, turning to get back to their gardening.

Waving, he heads on down the road, leaving behind the hunched-over pair in his rearview mirror.

As Andrew drives away, he realizes once again how much he adores this island and the people here. It is his home now, his forever home, and he couldn’t be happier that he found this special place. It had been a long time coming. If the winters didn’t force him to go, he would never leave this quiet, simple place.

The winters on Owl’s Nest are fierce. No, fierce does not describe them, he decides. It is the possibility of death. The nor’easters blow with a vengeance in the winter forcing the few remaining islanders to hunker down in their homes with no relief from the cold, howling winds, snow, and ice.

Andrew had spent part of his first winter on Owl’s Nest, living the solitary life of a hermit, which he is certain he will never do again. If he could have vacated, he would have. But because he was not a Mainer, the ferry was his only way off the island, and as he found out the hard way, it doesn’t run in the winter. If he had known the mailman he could have caught a ride with him on the mail boat, which ran three days a week, but Andrew didn’t know him back then. So, without a sturdy boat or knowledge of the mailman, he was stuck. But most folks knew this and evacuated the small island in the fall.

That first winter, Andrew was stuck. He was left behind with his dog, a pile of firewood and a pantry full of canned food. He still remembers how miserable he was. The cold wind ripped through his cottage finding every crack and crevice it could squeeze through, never letting up. The sound of it was utterly frightening and the cold of it was downright paralyzing. He had never been as damp, cold, and lonely as he was that winter.

Because of that first horrible winter, he usually plans to leave early in November, catching a ride with a local fisherman or friend to the mainland. The ferry quits running in October. Most of the tourists and summer folks have gone by then and the permanent islanders are left. They are a small band of folks, a tough, hardy group, but his favorite kind of folks. Sue and Samuel are two of those people.

As Andrew rounds the bend in the road and comes off the rise, he can see the ferry pulling into the harbor below him. It is loaded down with SUVs carrying kayaks, bicycles, children, adults and their pets. It is late August and families still have the last remnants of vacation time left. He is glad that Sandy is on that ferry, enjoying the first sites of his beloved island.

From the boat, the island looks extremely small. But that is an illusion; and the truth is only made visible by time and exploration. The harbor is small and most of the boats are anchored out in the bay. The tide recedes too far to allow boats to remain at the dock. The ferry only arrives at high tide, and its mooring is dredged out every year.

There is a quaint old building painted bright red sitting near the dock. This tired- looking structure greets all the visitors from the mainland, and bids them a hearty welcome to Maine. Hanging all over the four sides of the building are hundreds of aged buoys draped with fishing nets reminding visitors of the island’s rich history. It is very charming. On any given day when the sun is out, tourists can see an artist or two set up with his easel on the hill, painting that old building that sits beside the sea with the beaten rocky coast below. There are probably hundreds of paintings of that old ziggurat out there somewhere; reminders of what Maine is supposed to be: harbors, lobster boats, ferries, rugged ocean and rocks. Sandy will love it, Andrew is sure.

CHAPTER 2

Ferry Ride

A s the old ferryboat shutters to a stop, adults aboard excitedly gather their children and pets and pile back into their vehicles to disembark. Sandy too, waits in her car, hands on the steering wheel, anticipating her turn to leave the ferry. Her heart skips a beat as she releases her brake. She inches her car forward as she scans along the bank for some sign that Andrew is there.

The other cars, trucks, bicycles, and walkers parade off the boat. She follows, clanking down the metal ramp and then slowly moving onto the shore. It is an unpleasant sound with all the banging, rattling and scraping, but it only lasts a few moments and then it is over. Sandy is relieved that she is finally on her way up the ramp leaving that awful sound as well as her stale life behind. She is ready for a new adventure and Andrew could be just the man to share it with.

Making her way along the gravel incline to the main road, she continues looking for him. The massive red barn-like building to her right momentarily distracts her. Being a sucker for nautical and old things she slows her car to have a better look. It has been a long time since she has been to New England. This island is exactly what she remembered of the area and had pictured in her mind.

As she takes in the scene along with a deep and much needed breath, she also admires the shingled old houses sitting proudly along the shore enduring the test of countless seasons. She is glad she came.

The sky is sapphire and the ocean a calm, deeper gray; colors that only the seashore can bring. Small boats bobbing up and down in the slight waves grab her attention as she watches them nod in her direction. It is as if they are saying, Welcome to Owl’s Nest, Sandy. She accepts their greeting and slowly nods back keeping tempo with the rhythm of the sea. Life just seems to take a step back in time here, she thinks, and perhaps that is the reason Andrew wanted her to come.

Sandy continues to look around her, still noticing the simplicity of her surroundings. She spots Andrew sitting on a knoll. He sits amongst the tall grass watching and waiting for her. He is leaning against a roached out old pickup truck with his knees up and his tanned arms resting comfortably across them. Pulled down to his eyebrows and covering most of his hair, sits a New York Yankees baseball cap. His sunglasses hang on its brim. He wears an old pair of khakis and a faded Emerson, Lake and Palmer t-shirt that looks to be his favorite. He doesn’t see her yet, so she pulls her car over into the tall grass quite a ways from where he sits. She allows herself another minute of time to gather herself and calm her pounding heart before approaching him.

Andrew remains a handsome man, older of course, and kind of weathered-looking…but handsome nonetheless. Her heart flutters within the hammering as she keeps watching him. He has wrinkles around his sea blue eyes which gaze into the distance towards the ramp, searching. His beard is kept and growing white in some places, and his forearms are tanned and muscular. He seems to add near perfect life to a perfect landscape.

CHAPTER 3

Reunited

S urprised, Andrew notices Sandy sitting in her car not ten feet in front of him. Just as his eyes meet hers, he cannot control the wide smile that rips across his face. He hops up from where he is resting and quickly walks towards her. She climbs out of her car and meets him at her car door just as she is closing it.

They cautiously embrace as