Eternal Journey (13 page)
Quite calm by now, her mind at ease and her heart filled with a newfound understanding, Anna looked up at the young woman
as she took the second book from her hands and said, “Don’t tell me. Your name is Beth, isn’t it?”
The beautiful young woman with sparkling blue eyes said, “How did you know that, Dr. Carroll?”
Anna was smiling now as she looked between the clouds and replied, “Well, I guess you might call it a hunch, but in reality,
an angel whispered it in my ear.”
Anna winked and passed her the books, thinking about the true meaning of the words she had spoken.
The little plane landed smoothly and Dr. Anna Carroll was once again back on the ground.
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I
t had been after midnight when Anna walked into her house. She was exhausted beyond belief, too tired to brush her teeth or
even remove her clothes. She just flopped on her bed and fell immediately and deeply asleep. The persistent ringing of her
phone woke her and, as she reached clumsily for the receiver, she saw that it was nine-fifteen in the morning. It was her
secretary on her private line.
“Anna, is that you? When I didn’t hear from you last night or early this morning, I thought I’d better check to see whether
you made it back to paradise.”
Anna had the best secretary in the world. The women were about the same age, but so different; in this case complementing
each other so well that it made for a great working relationship. It had been a perfect match for close to five years. Ellie
loved that Anna needed and appreciated her organizational skills and her affinity for arranging schedules and details and
dealing with the practical and the routine. As a result, the office ran with incredible ease, despite Anna’s constantly changing
priorities, her messy desk, calendar and Rolodex, and the demands of her many and varied clients.
“Yes, I made it back, in body anyway, Ellie. Though my spirit is still on the Vineyard.” Surprised at herself, Anna asked,
“I’m not seeing clients today, am I?”
“No. Remember, Anna, we decided to give you the morning to rest, but you do need to be in here by two o’clock for a conference.”
“I’ll be there. I’m exhausted. It’s a long trip to make for such a short time. I overestimated what I could do, as usual,”
she said as much to herself as to her secretary.
“Well, you know, I kind of anticipated as much, so I hope you won’t be too upset that I canceled the rest of the week for
you. I did run the idea by Chris, and he said he’d call you about it, but I guess he forgot.”
The blinking light on the answering machine, Anna thought. “No, no, Ellie, it’s great you cleared my week. You are too much—are
you getting psychic on me?”
“Me? No way, Anna! I just had a feeling you would need more than a weekend. I thought maybe you’d want to go up to Vero for
a few days.”
Suspecting a little collusion now, Anna thought back to Saturday’s conversation with Chris about the book and smiled.
“I may just do that,” Anna said. “I’ll see you in an hour or so. We can go over a few things before my meeting this afternoon,
and then I’ll head on up the coast.”
That afternoon Anna drove north on I-95 on a relatively cool evening for November in Florida. She turned on the CD player,
opened the sunroof, and felt the wind breeze through her hair over the uplifting sound of Gloria Estefan. As she pulled off
the highway and headed east toward the river, Anna realized this would be her first time in her river house since Beth died.
As always, Anna smiled as she entered the house. She opened all the shutters and blinds, threw open the big sliding doors
facing the river, and let the wind off the water blow all the remnants of death and sadness out of the house—and out of her
soul.
Later, Anna strolled out to the end of her dock. Sitting on the bench, watching the mullet jump into the gentle waves, she
tried to sort through her weekend. As she searched the river for answers, she saw a lone dolphin swimming against the tide.
Mesmerized by the rhythm of his graceful stride, Anna thought it strange he was alone. Dolphins usually swim in pods, a group
of family and friends who play and protect each other as they navigate the unpredictable seas. This one, this loner, was headed
off on his own. As he reached the bridge, Anna could barely see his fading dorsal fin among the rippling waves of the river.
Slowly and gracefully, he naturally became one with the water as he continued on his journey beyond the bridge.
The ringing of the phone broke the spell. She walked quickly to the house, somewhat perplexed that she could even hear it,
since the dock was a good 175 feet long. Very few people knew the number for the Vero property, and she had no machine. Anna
made it back to the house by about the eighth ring and heard Becky’s voice on the other end.
“Annie, it’s Becky. I wanted to make sure you got home all right, and that your weekend was all that you needed and wanted
it to be.”
There was a softness and depth to Becky’s voice that Anna had never heard before, and it touched her in a very special way.
“I was going to call and thank you and Michael. Becky, my weekend was just indescribable. I was just out on the dock, trying
to put the pieces of my life together.”
They talked, on a new, deeper level. While Anna couldn’t actually tell her what had happened over the weekend, she was somehow
able to communicate the power of it all. As the conversation closed, Becky mentioned the Duffy house. That reminded Anna to
ask how she could reach John, but before she could, Becky said, “It’s just so sad, Annie, it was just such a tragic weekend
here. My heart goes out to all the family.” Becky’s voice broke as she continued. “John was loved by so many people, Annie.
He was a truly remarkable priest.”
What? What was going on? Anna’s chest started to constrict, getting tighter with her deepening anxiety. She sank down on the
big chair in her living room, grasping the phone with a now sweaty hand.
“Becky, what are you talking about?” Anna’s voice was barely audible.
“Didn’t you get the message we left for you over the weekend, Annie? I was too upset to call, so I asked Michael to. Saturday
night he phoned to tell you there would be no activity at the Duffys’ after all. We didn’t want you confused up there all
by yourself. It was Mary’s cousin John, Father John Duffy—you may remember him from Beth’s funeral.” Becky was really crying
now, but she continued to choke the words out.
“John was on his way to the Vineyard for the weekend, too, like I told you. In fact, the accident happened about the time
you were scheduled to arrive at the airport. He was hit by a drunk driver on the Connecticut Turnpike. By the time the paramedics
arrived, it looked bad, but they got him to the hospital. Michael and every other available specialist stayed by his side
all weekend. John’s condition stabilized on Friday, and there were actually a few hours on Saturday when even the physicians
thought he’d make it. But our hopes weren’t enough. By sunset on Saturday they put him on life support. That gave enough time
for all his brothers to come to his side.”
Anna was weeping softly now, her hand covering the receiver. She felt she knew where this story was going and how it would
end. Unaware of Anna’s reaction, Becky was now over the worst of her tears. Her voice took on an eerie calm as she continued
with the story.
“By Sunday morning, the entire Duffy clan had arrived, with spouses and offspring in tow. Michael and another doctor took
John off life support around noon. Then each brother in turn spent a final moment with John. Sean, the youngest, brought his
four-year-old daughter in with him to say good-bye. A few minutes later, with all the family gathered ’round, John took his
last breath and was gone. Michael said it was a very peaceful death and that he had never seen a family of a trauma patient
better prepared. But it still feels so tragic.”
Anna sighed deeply. Becky continued. “Annie, you know how ‘in charge’ Michael always is? Well, something else happened, and
he’s not quite sure how to deal with it. He even said he might want to talk to you about it.”
“What happened?” Anna managed to stammer through her subsiding tears.
“Michael says soon after he pronounced the death, everyone moved into the hallway, leaving him alone in the room with John’s
body. Michael stood by the bed—he doesn’t recall for how long. And then he felt a gentle tap on his hand and looked down to
see a little girl with curly copper-penny hair reaching up to him.” Becky’s voice tightened as if to suppress renewed tears.
“He picked her up, and she whispered in his ear, ‘Don’t be sad. John says it was time for him to go. He wants me to give you
this.’ And she handed Michael this perfect little sunflower—”
“A sunflower?” Anna interrupted.
“Yes, Annie, a sunflower,” replied Becky, with just a hint of impatience. “The child then leaned over the bed rail and kissed
John on the forehead. Turning back to Michael, she said, ‘John says to tell you that Annie can help you understand.’
“Michael said he was touched and also perplexed, but in the following moments, what with having to say good-bye to the family,
phone me with the news, and then finish his charts, he was too distracted to take it all in. But then—and this is so strange—he
stopped the nurse in the hall, and they chatted about how wonderful John’s family is. Michael showed her the flower and said
how touched he was by this gift from John’s niece. The nurse didn’t understand, so he tried to explain. But she said, ‘Doctor,
you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go home and take it easy. You know that hospital policy restricts underage visitation.
We bent the rules to allow Sean’s daughter in with Father Duffy, but only because he promised to keep it brief. When I left
the room with the family, I personally escorted the child outside to a neighbor waiting to take her home.’
“So, Annie, will you talk to him? He’s very unsettled by this and insists he knows what he saw and heard.”
An unusual sense of peace and understanding enveloped Anna. She was standing now by the big sliding doors, staring out at
the last light from the day reflecting off the houses across the river. Her eyes were dry and everything very slowly came
into focus. It was as if she had always known what she knew now, as if close to fifty years had telescoped into this one moment
in time. The merging of logic with faith offered her a clarity of vision and understanding she would carry with her the rest
of her life.
“Sure I can, Becky, but not just now. Give me until tomorrow or the next day, okay? And tell Michael not to question his experience.
I believe him.”
Becky started weeping again and said, “Oh, Annie. I’ll tell him right now. I know you wouldn’t say that if you didn’t believe
it yourself. You are, and always have been, such a good friend to us both. And it’s just the three of us left now, isn’t it?”
“I’m going to say good-bye now, Becky,” Anna said calmly and softly. “I’ll call you later. I promise.”
“I just wished you could have known him, Annie,” Becky said through her tears.
“But I do know him, my friend, I do,” Anna whispered into the phone.
_____________________
A
nna had spent Tuesday and Wednesday in another world. She cleaned her river house and spent hours poring over her old photo
albums. She smiled and frowned, laughed and cried. I’m purging my soul, she thought to herself during those two days. She
felt compelled to review and organize her past.
On Wednesday afternoon she found the shoe box tucked under her bed. When she opened the box, she saw the floppy denim hat.
And under the hat, Anna found two little maroon beanies with the emblem on the front; one had a “B” embroidered on the inside,
the other, “A.” Anna smiled. She and Beth were always getting their Saint David’s beanies mixed up, and it had been Anna’s
idea to do the initials. Not that it really mattered. Anna had just wanted an opportunity to show Beth some of the embroidery
stitches her grandmother had taught her.