Deep River Burning (10 page)

Chapter 16

Father Allen

Denver was lying in her bed waiting for Josh, hoping he would come, surrounded by her maps and photographs mounted on the walls. A small fan in the corner of the room was blowing on her making her cold. She waited so long, and he hadn’t come. She began to sink inside. Didn’t he know how important it was to her that he be there? She needed to see his face, to speak to him, to tell him the stories she knew, to listen to his. She heard his voice, muffled and strange, speak a word that didn’t sound like her name. He touched her arm, and she was so relieved to know he was finally there . . .

“Miss,” his voice said. Denver opened her eyes to see a misty, pastel pink, blue world, cool and sharp with distinct lines making waves and sand ruffles as a seagull stood at her feet on guard. “Miss,” the voice said again. A man wearing a priest’s collar was kneeling beside her, looking down at her with a soft smile.

“Yes?” Denver said startled.

“What is your name?” he asked, unafraid.

“Denver Oakley.”

“Did you come to see the sunrise, Denver Oakley?”

“No,” she said honestly looking over at the horizon line trying to get her bearings.

“Where do you live?”

“I don’t live anywhere at the moment,” Denver said awkwardly.

“Are you homeless?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, perhaps I can help you with that.” His voice was calm and soothing as he stood up and held out his hand for her to grab.

“How?” She stood up coming to realize herself and the dream she was having.

“There is a wildlife sanctuary just down the beach a little way. Why don’t you come with me and get some breakfast?”

“They serve breakfast at a wildlife sanctuary?”

The priest laughed. “Sort of,” he replied, “and it’s always free.”

She was suspicious of him, even though he was a priest, but her hunger got the best of her, and she agreed. He picked up her bags so that she only carried the towel that was weighted down by the sand, and they both walked down the beach. He was very tall and thin, and the first priest she had ever met who didn’t have gray hair. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties maybe. He walked through the sand effortlessly and turned and gazed out to sea where a shred of sunlight was just making its way over the pale blue water.

Father Allen glanced over at Denver several times. She had the look of tragedy. He had seen it many times as a priest, but rarely did he witness it this acute in someone so young. If it weren’t for the slight glow on her cheeks, perhaps from the morning sun, he might have thought she was anemic, but somehow he knew that her deep suffering came from a place within her heart and not her body. She had streaks on her cheeks from crying the night before, and to prevent her from feeling any embarrassment, he turned his eyes toward the surf as she tried to wipe them away.

“Where are you from?” He asked softly.

“Pennsylvania,” Denver said still in disbelief that she had slept the whole night on the beach.

“Really? Pennsylvania? Why, we have something in common then. I grew up in Pennsylvania, in a small town near Gettysburg. I still miss the green hills and the golden trees in October.”

“Do you go back to visit?” Denver asked.

“Perhaps I will . . . sometime . . . soon. Do you have family in Pennsylvania?”

“No, I don’t,” she said quietly.

“You must have some history you can tell me about.”

“I studied Environmental Science at Branton University.”

“Well,” he said smiling, “You will probably feel quite comfortable here.” They approached the front door of a simple yet sizable building. “Welcome to Isabel Beach Coastal Wildlife Sanctuary and Education Center.” They walked into the building and entered a large room filled with posters, photographs, displays, tables that held neatly lined up pamphlets, and glass cases, all of which were designed to educate the public about North Carolina’s coastal regions and wildlife, particularly its birds. A woman who looked like she was in her fifties came from another room in the back to greet Denver and the priest.

“Well, hello,” the woman said.

“Iris, this is Denver. I found her this morning sleeping on the beach.”

“My goodness! Father Allen usually brings me injured birds, not healthy and lovely young women, bless his heart,” Iris said laughing at herself. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, really, I must have been exhausted last night when I fell asleep. I didn’t intend to spend the night on the beach.”

“Well, there’s a little kitchenette in the back, and I’m fixin’ some pancakes. Would you like some breakfast?” Iris led Denver and Father Allen toward the back room.

“That would be great,” Denver said. “If it is no trouble.”

“Oh Lord no, it’s no trouble at all. Would you like strawberry, blueberry, or plain?”

“Strawberry is fine,” Denver said.

“Strawberry is Father Allen’s favorite as well. So, where are you from, Denver? Are you passing through or fixin’ to stay a while?”

“I’m planning to stay for a while. I need to find an apartment. I was hoping to start looking today.”

“There’s an apartment building across the street here and down a few blocks, on the same block as Father Allen’s parish. Mrs. Denkins owns it. Oh, wouldn’t it be great if you got an apartment so close to the beach? Does Mrs. Denkins have any open apartments right now Father Allen?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a very short walk if you’d like to inquire after breakfast,” said Father Allen.

“There’s also a hotel down the beach about six blocks or so if you need a temporary stay,” Iris said. “Now where was that you said you were from?”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Denver said watching Iris flawlessly flip the pancakes that were a perfect golden brown.

“Oh, well you don’t have to tell us, honey. Your business is your business.”

“Denver studied Environmental Science in Pennsylvania,” Father Allen told Iris.

“Really? How about that! Father Allen studied Marine Biology at UNC Wilmington before he went into the seminary. Can you imagine, an environmentalist priest! But there he is, in the flesh.”

At that moment, a petite, gray cat rubbed her head and arched back against Denver’s leg and began to purr. “My, aren’t you friendly,” Denver said as she put her hand down for the cat’s dark gray nose to sniff. The cat jumped up into her lap and looked at Denver with her large, sage green eyes.

“Get down from there bumblebee,” Iris said.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I love cats. You named your cat bumblebee?”

“No, her name is Isabel, but I call her every name you can think of . . . tinkerbell, butternut squash, purrface, kitkat, turtle, doodlebug . . . the possibilities are endless. Somehow she still knows her name and is not confused.”

Denver laughed and said, “She is so pretty!”

“She is a friendly cat, but she has her favorites. It looks like you are one of them. She likes Father Allen too.”

After breakfast, Denver followed Father Allen’s directions to the apartment building owned by Mrs. Denkins. She walked passed his parish and a few clothing shops before she arrived at the office door. Mrs. Denkins had one apartment open, but it wasn’t ready yet. It needed a fresh coat of paint, a carpet shampoo, and a good cleaning. “The best I can do is have it ready in two days, if that is okay with you?” Mrs. Denkins said. Denver was ecstatic. She wrote out the check for the security deposit and walked back down the beach in search of the hotel Iris mentioned.

Being that it was on the beach, the hotel room was expensive, but she booked a room for two nights and felt very proud of herself for accomplishing so much on her first full day in what was looking like her new home, at least temporarily. Her lease was for only three months, just in case she wanted to go somewhere else for a while. Maybe she would choose a nomadic life. But for now, the town of Isabel Beach suited her just fine, and she wished she could thank the taxi driver for dropping her off in a place that could only seem like paradise after Adena’s world of coal and fire.

When she entered her hotel room, she found a small room with a double bed, a dresser with a television on top, and a desk in the corner by a window that overlooked the ocean where birds hovered back and forth across the horizon. Her room was on the fourth floor so she had a magnificent view. She took some time to get acquainted with the room, while she sat on the edge of the bed not knowing what to think.

After a while, she walked out onto the small deck and saw Father Allen sitting on the beach with his head slightly bowed in prayer. He was engrossed in his own world with only his words and God in focus. She resisted the feeling in her chest that he was the most handsome priest she had ever seen. They may have come from the same state, but there was nothing about him that was familiar to her. She squinted her eyes in order to see him more clearly. She had studied him since the first moment she saw him . . . his hair, very dark, almost black and its gentle wave back over his ears, his stride, his voice, his smile, yet there on the beach, he looked enveloped in sadness, as if there was some problem that prayer just couldn’t fix. As she watched him, it dawned on her that she had no idea what she was going to do with her life, in this new place.

The next day, she woke up again to the sound of the waves, but this time she was in a warm, soft bed. She had fallen asleep with the deck door open, and the morning salt air gently filtered into her room as she heard kids outside playing near the pool. When she looked out on to the beach, she saw just a few people walking slowly picking up shells, and one woman was sitting under a large beach umbrella reading a book. She showered, went downstairs for breakfast, which consisted of instant oatmeal and a banana, and then she started walking.

Isabel Beach was a small town, which suited her just fine. She wasn’t looking for a party. She really didn’t know yet what she was looking for, but after about an hour of crossing streets and breathing the ocean air, she came across a rental shop that rented beach supplies and bikes. She hadn’t been on a bike in a while, and she decided that this was as good a time as any to get back on one.

She pedaled and soared along streets and sidewalks, frequently turning off onto public beach access areas where she would stop and watch the sun slowly inch across the rippled water. She felt lucky and very grateful to Father Allen and Iris for their housing suggestions. Technically, she was no longer homeless. She even had an address, 463 Topsail Avenue, Isabel Beach, North Carolina. Yes, she could live with that. And she couldn’t wait to send her new address to Helena.

The following day, she took her time enjoying the morning and checked out of the hotel just before lunch. She went back to see Iris to ask if she could volunteer to help at the sanctuary since she and Father Allen had been so kind to her. She was also very interested in learning more about the beach. She walked to the wildlife sanctuary and entered through the front door where she was greeted by a woman named Twyla who claimed to be the sanctuary’s administrative assistant. Iris, who was the director as well as a veterinarian, had stepped out to purchase supplies, according to Twyla, but Denver was invited to look around and to ask if she had any questions.

“Well actually,” Denver said, “I was interested in doing some volunteer work for the sanctuary. I’m willing to do anything.”

“Oh, great! Let me add your name to our list. I don’t know what we would do without the support from volunteers. We would really appreciate your help.”

“Do you have a lot of volunteers?”

“We have some, but never enough considering all of the work that has to be done. Father Allen has been such a blessing to the sanctuary because he has been able to organize members of his parish to participate in volunteer events for us. A few of the people he has inspired to get involved have stayed involved, but we could always use a few more hands. There are only three of us that work as staff members . . . myself, Iris, and Jimmie, who is the education supervisor who conducts many of the workshops and tours.”

“I’ll be glad to help in any way that I can. I’ll take a look around and see what I can find. Thanks for your help,” said Denver.

“Thank you! Let me know if you need anything. You’re welcome to take any of the pamphlets with you, if you like.”

Denver took her time milling about the room reading the displays and studying photographs that were tastefully arranged on the walls at eye level. She picked up a copy of all of the pamphlets that were on a long table by the door without looking to see what they were about. She knew she would need something to do in her new apartment, and she always loved to read and learn new things. As she walked out the front door and onto the steps leading down to the beach, she saw Father Allen walking toward her on his way to the sanctuary.

“Hello, Denver!”

“Hello.”

“Are you having any luck finding an apartment?”

“Yes. I will be picking up a key from Mrs. Denkins later today. I just came by to thank you and Iris for your help the other day, and I signed up to do some volunteer work here.”

“Great! And it looks like you picked up some reading material. I can help you with some of that information,” Father Allen offered.

“Yes, I’d appreciate that.”

“Here, let me take your bags in to Twyla, and we can take a walk down the beach.”

Father Allen returned from speaking to Twyla and motioned for Denver to follow him as they began to walk north on the beach.

“Do you have any friends or family here in North Carolina, Denver?”

“No.”

“So, you are here by yourself?”

“Yes. Is that so strange?”

“In a way, yes it is. You didn’t come for a job, or for friends or family. You’re not simply on vacation.”

“I’m starting over,” she said.

“I see,” Father Allen said.

“How long have you lived here?” Denver asked.

“Oh, about fifteen years or so. I came here for college and then never left. I attended the seminary in Wilmington after college. Do you see that bird over there? That’s a piping plover. You will see terns, loons, egrets, herons, snow geese, pelicans, oystercatchers, skimmers, irises, painted buntings, and different species of gulls and so many other beautiful birds on the coast. You might also be interested in exploring the pine savannahs filled with wiregrass and longleaf pines. The southeast coast used to be blanketed in longleaf pines until they were logged at a rampant rate for their resin, which was used to make tar and turpentine. There’s so much to see if you are curious about ecosystems and wildlife. Right now the biggest concern for many of the birds is the loss of habitat. It’s hard to find an undisturbed beach these days and the beach-nesting birds are declining in numbers because of it. Clearing and draining land for agriculture or commercial development continues to occur at an alarming rate,” Father Allen said as he picked up a piece of seaglass and handed it to Denver. Then he continued. “There are also swamps and forests that are home to bald cypress trees over a thousand years old. It’s a wonder that they escaped the logging industry, but they did, and now they are protected.”