Charlie St. Cloud Page 0,32

factories in Lynn. Her whole life had been a struggle and, at eighty-six, the fight was still in her after an eleven-year battle with lung cancer. Twice before, doctors had taken extraordinary measures to bring her back from death’s door, and each time there was a little less of her left. Now the small sign next to her bed said simply: DNR—DO NOT RESUSCITATE.

And yet, in Tess’s mind, Nana was still indomitable. She was a diehard Democrat who kept a crumpled, yellowing Boston Globe picture of the three young Kennedy brothers on her mantel. She loved to gossip about the men in town, and she insisted—outrageously—on smoking Marlboro Reds even after her health had given way.

Some days, she recognized Tess. Most days, she mistook her for her older sister who had passed away the day George Bush defeated Michael Dukakis by 325 electoral votes. On occasion, it seemed as if she didn’t even see Tess at all. She just gazed into space with those soft eyes. Her one stab at dignity was her insistence on being dressed every day in a colorful hat and cheerful jewelry from the dime store.

Now she sat frozen in her recliner, humming and staring out the window.

“What are you searching for out there?” Tess asked. The view from Devereux House looked out on an asphalt parking lot, where Tess saw a bird on a fence.

“Are you looking at that sparrow? Is that what you see?”

Nana smiled, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

“So what have you been up to?” Tess asked. “Is Mr. Purdy still chasing you around the rec room? You told me he’s a real pervert.” Again, silence.

So this is what it came down to. A long life, and now this? Years alone in a fog. Tess swore she wouldn’t allow herself to end up this way. She would go out in a blaze of glory. She never wanted to fade away. That was the worst thing that could happen.

“Listen, Nana, I came to say good-bye,” Tess said. “Remember? I’m going on a big sail all the way around the world.” She paused and looked at her grandmother’s beaded necklace. “I’ll bring back jewels from the Orient. How’s that sound?”

Nana’s lips curled up. There was a little twinkle in her eye. Tess wondered what she was thinking. Could she even hear any of this?

“You know I’m here, don’t you?” Tess said. “You know I’m right next to you.”

The room was silent. Nana’s mouth pursed, her wrinkles radiated, and then she finally spoke in a firm voice: “Of course I do.”

It was the first time in months she had acknowledged her presence. Tess was speechless.

“You all right, honey?” Nana said.

Tess couldn’t find words.

Nana’s eyes focused and she said, “It’s okay, dear. Everything’s going to be all right, and I’ll see you very soon.”

Then Nana’s lids closed, and her head began to tilt. Soon she was snoring softly. Tess got up and kissed her grandmother’s powdery cheek.

“Love you,” she said. “See you soon.”

THIRTEEN

CHARLIE LET GO OF THE ROPE AND FLEW THROUGH THE air. He tucked into the cannonball position, held his breath, and splashed into the cool water. With a few good kicks, he swam to the mossy bottom, grabbed hold of the big boulder to keep himself down, and listened to the sound of crackling air bubbles and his pounding heart.

He had made it to the forest before sundown with only seconds to spare, but now for the first time, he faced unfamiliar feelings about being there. Conflicting ideas were washing around in his brain: He imagined borrowing Joe’s boat and whisking Tess away on a sunset cruise around the harbor, uncorking a good bottle of wine, then motoring over to Manchester for dinner.

But that wasn’t an option. He had a promise to keep and a ritual to perform. First, he and Sam played catch in the clearing, then they jumped into the little pond he had dug with his own hands all those years ago. Charlie had copied every detail from the swimming hole on Cat Island. The dimensions were exactly the same; the braided rope was nearly identical; and the big knot at the end was triple-tied. Those days at YMCA summer camp had been the happiest ever, crammed with afternoons racing Widgeons and Ospreys, and evenings diving from the old rope.

When his lungs began to burn, he let go of the boulder and pushed off the bottom. He broke the surface with a great splash, and when the