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Ruffling Feathers Chapter 23 - World Without End
The clouds Amy had watched piling up as Paul sailed down the Maine coast turned out to be much like those she knew from the Colorado plains. Thunderclouds. And as the afternoon wore on, they darkened ominously as the wind picked up and the sea grew rough. Paul sent Amy below for storm gear. They donned yellow slickers and talked to the coast guard. He saw fear in her eyes. She wasn't used to the sea. She wasn't comfortable on boats. She had gone with him because she trusted him. She said she felt safe with him at the helm. He showed her how to use the radio. She helped him ready the boat to face the storm. And then the heavens opened and the rain and the thunder and the sea became one. Amy gripped her life line and felt her legs turn to rubber as the waves heaved then collapsed as Paul guided Family Pride up and through the ocean swells. On and on they went through the dark and the noise and the cold, jostled and hurtled and tossed. Amy couldn't imagine how Paul could possibly know where he was going. Oh please, please keep us safe. Oh please, guide us home. She cried inside, swallowing her panic so that it couldn't distract Paul. And then with a bump and a grind, they were at the Donovan dock. Paul screamed to Amy to jump. She nodded and before fear could paralyze her, she jumped from the boat, landing shakily on the dock. Clutching the dock lines, she lashed the boat to the cleats, while Paul stowed what he could and closed the hatch. More quickly than Amy thought possible, Paul was beside her. He tied the boat from every angle to every cleat on the dock, straining his muscles to position his boat so that it wouldn't be battered against the dock. Then he grabbed her hand and together they ran up the dock to the stairs and up the stairs to the house. Panting and out of breath, they burst into the mud room and slammed the door against the storm. Faint from relief, exhilarated with adrenaline, Amy clutched Paul as she felt her legs finally crumble beneath her. He pulled off her nor'easter hat and his own. Gathered her in his arms, yellow slicker and all, and kissed her. They had beat the storm and found safe port. He unbuckled her slicker and his own and left them in a heap as he lifted her in his arms and carried her across his threshold and up into his house. Amy smiled up at Paul as he set down a tray on the table in front of her. He had settled her on a couch in his study, covered her with a blanket and switched on the gas fireplace. Then he had gone to the kitchen to find comfort food. He returned with bowls of tomato soup and a platter of grilled cheese sandwiches. "Amy, I have some phone calls to make. Will you be all right here for awhile," he asked after they had downed the last of the sandwiches. "Oh, sure—I'll just sit here and enjoy the view from inside." Soon the rhythmic swell of the stormy ocean conspired with the warm comfort of being safe and loved and Amy's eyes closed and she surrendered to sleep. She awoke to the soft murmur of a calm sea. She stretched and flung off the blanket, which had grown too hot now that summer had returned to Maine. And there on the table where the tray had been was a small package wrapped in pretty flowered paper with her name on it. She unwrapped the package and held in her hands the book of Edna St. Vincent Millay poems she had watched Paul unwrap so long ago in Vail—it was the last present his mother had ever given him. Amy remembered Paul slowly stroking the book before he opened it, and she echoed his caress as she turned it over and carefully ran her hand over its face. Then she opened it and read the inscription Anne Donovan had written to her son ten years before he found it. And then she read what he had written below it for her: Mate for life? She turned to see him standing in the doorway, not daring to breathe until she nodded, love filling her eyes, and pride in this beautiful man filling her heart. Paul drove Amy to the Inn at Whiteside to get her things as she was no longer in need of the little tower room at the Inn. She quickly packed her suitcase, and then stopped at the window and looked out at the ocean, fading to black in the early twilight. It had seemed so wild only a few hours ago, but now the waters were calm, serenely content in having had their say. Amy blew a kiss and a prayer to the sea, and turned into Paul's arms, happy to let him replace them with some of his own. "Shall we go then, love?" He murmured, after a time. "We shall." Mrs. Ashley behind the hotel's front desk was perplexed. "Awfully late to be checking out. I'll have to charge you for tonight, don't you know. I can't get the room cleaned and rented again tonight. My cleaning staff went home hours ago. Check out's noon. Says so right here." She added defensively, pointing to a sign on the desk. Paul merely beamed at her, while Amy blushed furiously and signed the credit card slip. And then they were out the door. "Oh Miss..." Mrs. Ashley called after them. "I forgot. You had a message." She handed Amy a slip of paper that said, "Call Jenn asap." Amy found her cell phone and punched in the number. "Hey, hey, Lady J? What's happening?" Amy sang into the phone when Jenn answered. "Amy, Amy! Is that you?" Jenn voice was thick with tears. "What is it, Jenn?" "Dad's in the hospital. He had a massive heart attack this morning." Her voice cracked, " I don't know if he's going to make it." Paul caught Amy as her legs crumbled. He helped her to the lobby couch and took her phone and talked to Jenn. Then, he held Amy's hand and rubbed her back as she talked to Jenn. He watched her dig deep inside herself and find the strength to comfort her sister and assure her that she would be home by morning and would take care of everything. Amy stared out of the window of Paul's private jet, headed west for Colorado. All she could see was a black void with an occasional string of lights or an occasional chorus of lights, if they happened to be passing over a city. Her beautiful day had ended. Like no other she had ever known, she had journeyed up a river of primeval wonder, faced the wrath of an angry sea, and found perfect happiness with a man who soared with eagles. That innocent happiness had been replaced by the cold fear of losing the man who had always been her light and her rock. The man who had been there before Paul. The man she had always believed would be there forever. The man who loved her most and guided her best and challenged her always. What would life be without Dad? I meant to ask you how to fix that car. The plane landed. Paul had a car pick her up and the driver took her the hospital. She hadn't wanted Paul to come along. She couldn't share her father with anyone this late in the game. She didn't want Paul there when she had to said goodbye...if she had to say goodbye. I meant to ask you, how when everything seemed lost Amy stepped out of the car to face the rosy glow of a summer sunrise. She walked into the hospital and rode the elevator to the fifth floor ICU. She found her father's name on the chalkboard. A nurse asked whether she could help. Amy couldn't find her voice. The nurse figured out who she was. Amy stood by her father's bedside and looked at the tubes and the monitors and the charts. Jenn was asleep in the chair by his bed. Amy picked up her father's hand and kissed each finger and kissed his forehead and knelt by his bed and prayed. I meant to ask you how you lived what you believed The funeral was horrible. The chapel in Piñon was packed. Former students, current students, dean of students. Activists, lawyers, teachers. The grocery clerk, the waitress at the coffee shop, the pizza delivery man, the paper boy. Was there no one who hadn't loved the crusty middle-aged non-conformist? Amy wanted to be alone with her grief, but she had to listen to stories about her Dad, and order flowers and pick music. Annie Edgerton offered to take over, but it didn't seem right to let someone else do the heavy lifting. Dad had raised her better than that. Gone now is the day and gone the sun Amy borrowed Annie's catering van and drove what remained of her family up I-70 to Shrine Pass and the Mount of the Holy Cross. They scattered Ed Hutchins's ashes into the wind and watched as it carried them to the far ends of the White River Wilderness area. I meant to ask you how to plow that field Bang the drum slowly, play the pipe lowly A week later, Amy sat on her porch and leaned against a pillar and closed her eyes and called Maine. Paul was there. He would always be there for her. "Mate for life?" Amy asked. "For life," he answered. * Bang the Drum Slowly, Emmylou Harris and Guy Clark
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