Lost at Sea
Friends and family were arriving on Vinalhaven Island to celebrate Henry’s eightieth birthday. It was a perfect late-August day, the beach roses lining the shoreline set against cloudless blue skies. Henry and his wife Laura were seated on the railing next to the ferry terminal waiting for Lucy to arrive. Henry had not seen his sister since her husband died over a decade ago. She and Larry had done heroic work spreading literacy in remote African schools using donated technologies developed by ReadSmart. Henry’s son Georgie had arrived on an earlier boat and was swimming at Lawson’s Quarry with his wife Deepra and their son Lakshmi. Eliza and her husband were renting a house for the week on the nearby island of North Haven.
The yellow ferry chugged around the promontory, slowing in the harbor as lobster and pleasure boats steered clear of the churning wake. The ocean looked like a giant Tom Collins. Henry and Laura got up and pushed their way through the crowd of vacationers, who could no longer put off sad returns to mainland life. The Maine Department of Transportation staff, dressed in fluorescent yellow vests, had given up trying to explain the car lineup rules to exasperated New Yorkers. Notable among these was the retired head of the New York City Transit Authority, who owned a summer home and had offered up simpler solutions many times, only to be dismissed by the locals. The ferry thumped into the dockside frame, cradled within huge black bumpers bringing it to a full stop. Lines were secured, ramp lowered, and down came the commercial trucks followed by cars and tourists dragging suitcases. Henry spotted Lucy, her straw hat lifting in the breeze as she reached for it with her free hand. She walked behind the other passengers, scanning the crowd for her younger brother. Two of the three children of Ned and Eve Pendergast had grown old, and seeing his sister reminded Henry how quickly time passes and how much he missed their brother, Albert.
“Happy birthday, you old geezer,” Lucy hugged Henry. “I doubt anyone came as far as I did for your big birthday bash.”
Henry pulled away to gaze upon this elderly woman who had once been the bossy girl in the dainty dress. He shook his head in bemusement, thinking about the long journey they had shared, eventually freeing themselves from the wounds of their upbringing. Lucy looked remarkably well for a woman in her mid-eighties. Her face was wrinkled from years in the African sun, and her eyes revealed the weariness of someone who has soldiered bravely toward the end of life.
Lucy flashed a mischievous grin.
“What?” Henry was hunched over and raised himself to meet her glance head on.
“It’s just those bushy eyebrows. You look like Winston Churchill. And that ridiculous hat!”
“What about the hat? It’s my favorite …”
“ … Are those fishing flies sticking out the side?”
Henry removed his floppy felt hat, which was the signature statement of his island attire. He was now almost completely bald. “It’s a fishing hat, you moron.”
Lucy backed off in the realization she had just arrived and already they were regressing. “I’m teasing. My, how sensitive you are!”
Henry saw Jim Williams walking down the ramp. He had been thrilled when his former therapist had surprised him by saying he would come to the party. Henry had sent the invitation as a courtesy notification, not expecting him to come. Jim had stopped practicing years ago and now lived in Dallas. He had been eager for a reason to escape the Texas heat and Henry’s invitation seemed like just the ticket. Henry and the doctor had become frequent correspondents over the years, sharing reading suggestions and discussing current events.
Henry stepped aside to intercept him before he was carried away by the crowd.
