Dovetail(95)

I found myself praying every day, something I never did much of before. Fear is what drove me. I did not want to go to hell. And I knew I was not a shoo-in for heaven; this had worried me.

If I did one thing right, it was seeking out my grandson, even if it was for selfish reasons.

After my son, Bill, told me he forgave me, I began to forgive myself. And when Joe told me his vision of John—the sense of utter tranquility, the pure white light and beautiful music, and best of all, Alice, all aglow, standing there to meet him, her hand extended—I felt my fear melt away.

Alice had a heart of gold. My father called her Ally-bird because she sang like a nightingale. She loved everyone in our family, but I always thought I was her favorite. She was the best of us all.

After she left this earth, nothing was ever the same.

I cannot wait to see her again.





CHAPTER SIXTY





1983


There was only one funeral home in Pullman: Mueller & Sons. Their brochure said the business had been in the family for five generations, and judging from the style of the furniture and drapes, the decor was just as old. Joe had dreaded Pearl’s funeral, most of all because she’d left him in charge, but as it turned out, she’d preplanned and prepaid for all of it, taking away most of the burden.

He had help. Kathleen had gone through this when her great-aunt Edna died, so she was familiar with funeral protocol. She was by his side when he sorted through the family photos and arranged them on poster boards to display on the easels provided by the funeral home.

She also was the one who went to the historical society and found the 1916 newspaper articles reporting what had happened on the island that day. When questioned by the police, Frank and Pearl had told the same story. They’d followed Alice and John to the island because it looked like she was taken against her will and they feared for her safety. Once there, they got confused in the dark, and Frank had discharged the gun by mistake. The bullet had struck Alice, causing a fatal injury, and then passed through her chest, hitting John, who bled to death. The incident was deemed an unfortunate accident, and there were no criminal charges. The article said that Alice Bennett’s sister was devastated and not available for comment.

“No wonder they married each other,” Joe had said. “They had to keep each other’s secret.”

“I for one am glad they got married,” Kathleen said, “or you would never have been born.”

Kathleen had helped line up the chaplain from Pine Ridge Hollow to speak at the service, and she also assisted in writing the obituary. Joe’s family would be coming, and some of Pearl’s out-of-town relatives were going to be there as well. They hired the Pine Cone to provide sandwiches, side dishes, and beverages for a buffet lunch after the service.

Joe and Kathleen stood in the parlor of the funeral home, waiting for guests to arrive. To their right, Pearl lay serenely in a mahogany casket, hands folded one atop the other. Floral arrangements ringed either side of the casket, so many that Joe had been shocked when he first arrived. “I didn’t know she had so many friends,” he’d said to Kathleen.

“It’s not just friends,” she said. “It’s everyone who knew her or who knew anyone in her family. It’s a way for people to recognize her life and her passing. To be there for the people who were there for her. It’s a show of community.”

He nodded and then, because he didn’t know what else to say, said, “She looks really peaceful.”

“Like she’s sleeping.” Kathleen had chosen the dress Pearl wore and picked out the earrings. There were so many details that Joe had never considered before this.

He said, “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s hard for me to believe she’s dead. I mean, I just talked to her, and I was starting to feel like we had a connection. When they called and said she’d passed away, I was stunned.”

During their last conversation, that day in the kitchen, when he’d told her about the dreams, she’d listened to him talk and didn’t say a word until he’d finished. He expected her to contradict him in some way, to tell him that he’d imagined it, but instead she just nodded.

“So you believe me?” he asked.

“Of course. How else would you have known so many details?”

“I really felt like Alice wants you to know she’s at peace.”

Pearl patted his hand, then grabbed a napkin to wipe her tears. “That would be like Alice too. She hated for anyone to feel bad. And she was always making the best of things. I want to thank you, Joe, for telling me this. I’ve been dreading the end, but if Alice can forgive me, I have hope.” And then, in a sudden rush of emotion, she said, “I love you, Joe.”

And he said, “I love you too, Grandma.”

Now, standing next to her casket, he was glad he’d said it back, even though at the time he wasn’t sure he truly felt that way. In the short period of time that he’d known her, he’d become totally immersed in her life, past and present. He cared about Pearl, but saying he loved her may have been a stretch. But really, did it matter to what extent he loved her? The important thing was that he’d wanted her to feel loved. In the end, that was all that mattered.

Joe’s parents and Linda arrived first, wearing their Sunday best. Joe was relieved they were there, especially when the residents of Pullman began to pour through the door, all of them presumably to pay their respects to Joe, and also to his father, Bill. As his father began working the crowd, Joe realized with a shock that of course his father knew people. Pullman had been his hometown; this was where his father had grown up. He seemed beloved. One man called out “Bill!” from across the room and ran up to clutch him in a bear hug. Several people told Joe they’d known his dad in high school, and one of the older women said she had been a neighbor from down the block.