At Witt's End

Nan wrapped on his door. “I need to check your window."

"I just shut it,” Aanders said. “The floor didn't get wet."

Nan lingered outside the closed door. “Are you okay? Are you getting any rest with all the racket?” Nan turned the knob and poked her head into Aanders’ room. “Do you mind if I come in?"

Aanders retreated to the privacy of his covers and pulled them tight over his head.

After securing her robe ties around her waist, Nan sat on the side of her son's bed. Running her hand along his back, she said, “You've had a terrible day. I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you after Mr. Bakke died. I'm here if you want to talk about it."

Aanders pulled his shoulder away as his mother smoothed her hand over the outline of his arm. “Sadie said you were a real help when Mr. Bakke died. I know you always thought of him as a grandfather.” Nan smiled. “I did too. He was a wonderful man."

Aanders drew his knees closer to his chest. Nan said, “You can't avoid talking about Tim's death forever. I'd like to know how you feel."

Nan shuddered as lightning crackled near the window. “Wow. That was way too close.” She cautiously looked through the window. “I'm always ready to listen. Just let me know if you need me."

A few sniffled gulps broke through despite Aanders’ attempt to hold his breath against the sobs threatening to escape. His mother tugged at the edge of his sheet. He didn't want her to invade his privacy. It was his cocoon. It was the one place, the only place he could seek refuge from the sorrows of the day. Tim was gone. Gone forever.

Prying the fabric away from his grasp, Nan uncovered her son's head and placed her cheek against his. “I'm so sorry about Tim's death. He was my friend, too. And now we've lost Mr. Bakke. I'm going to miss them both."

Aanders’ chest heaved with sobs. Nan freed him from the tangled sheet and slipped her arms under his body. Swaying gently with her son in her arms, she let her tears flow, too. Wishing desperately for a black hole to open up and swallow him so he wouldn't have to face another day without his best friend, Aanders sank into the safety of his mother's arms. “He's gone,” he gasped, trying to draw air into a chest heavy with grief. “Tim's really gone."

Nodding understanding, Nan held him tighter.

"Why did it happen? Tim didn't hurt anyone.” Aanders’ chest rose and fell sharply, spasms rocking his body. Trying to make sense of the injustice, he said, “I heard Sadie tell you about Paul. Why do people do bad things like that? Why did he have to shoot at Tim's Dad?"

With Aanders’ head cradled against her, Nan stroked his hair. “The evidence is going to come out over the next few days. Maybe then we'll understand what happened."

Nan dropped her head back and closed her eyes. “I feel like such a failure. I almost subjected us to life with a man I never really knew. And now they think he might have murdered Richard Fossum.” She ran her finger under her eye to stem a tear. “I'm sorry Aanders. I made a mistake."

"That's okay Mom. You didn't know."

As the night wore on, the two propped themselves against the headboard and talked about things on their minds.

"Can we go visit Tim's grave again? I need to make sure he's doing okay."

"Of course. Any time you want,” Nan said.

"Maybe I can take over Mr. Bakke's duties. I mean helping you with funerals like he used to do. Tim's Dad used to pay him to work in his office. Maybe I can earn money like that, too."

"Sounds like a good idea,” Nan said. “Let's get through the next few days first. Then we'll make a plan."

Nan waited for Aanders to slip into sleep before removing her arm from behind his back. She propped a pillow under his head. Tiptoeing from his room, she looked back through the crack in the door. “You've come a long way, little man.” Patting her lips and sending a silent kiss of admiration, she closed the door and returned to her bed.

Fifteen minutes passed before Aanders woke to the gentle rustle of leaves outside his window. Turning toward the illumination, he saw a bright rainbow arcing in the distance. He untangled his legs from the covers and rushed to the window.

The rainbow radiated the most vibrant colors he'd ever seen. Waves of blue, red, and yellow rose and fell, dancing above each arc as the colors grew in intensity. “A rainbow at midnight,” he whispered. “It's a rainbow at midnight."

A pebble pelted against his window. Startled, he jumped back from the sill. He cautiously peeked over the window ledge. Another one tinkled against the pane. Scanning the ground he tried to distinguish the shadows from the trees and noticed a shadow edge along a Norway pine. He strained to see through the pale light of the rainbow. The shadow moved again. It was Sadie. He slowly raised the window and pressed his nose against the screen.

Signaling with the wave of her arm, she whispered excitedly, “Did you see it?"

Aanders followed the point of her finger. “I see it.” Grinning broadly, he released the screen's latch and swung it wide. He put a leg through the opening, lowered himself to the ground, and joined Sadie under the tree.

The pair followed the rainbow's arc toward the shore, commenting on the ripples rising off the bright colors. A few more droplets fell as the clouds returned to their pre-tempest buoyancy.

Sadie put her arm around Aanders and hugged him to her side. “You did it. I'm so proud of you. By setting your sorrow aside and making sure Tim made it through the light, you earned your rainbow at midnight."

Hues of color danced around them. “I'm glad he's with his mom and dad,” Aanders said. “He really missed them.” He cocked his head toward his left shoulder and gazed questioningly at Sadie. “Did you notice Lora didn't go with Tim and Mr. Bakke? Do you think she decided to go to the parallel world to find her son?"

"Let's hope so. Let's hope she's got the sense to do that."

Aanders held his hand out. “It stopped raining."

"They've quit crying,” Sadie said. She pointed toward the sky. “Look at that glow from the rainbow and then look at that billowy cloud behind the rainbow. That's called a cloud of crossers.” She watched Aanders look back and forth over the horizon. “It's full of crossers lost. When you see billowy clouds during a rain storm, it's the crossers lost crying for the future they never realized. Tonight they were crying tears of joy."

"It's always cause to celebrate when a new death coach earns their rainbow,” Sadie said. “For all we know, you're the youngest death coach ever chosen. I'm sure the crossers lost are pleased with the sacrifice you made.” Lifting his hand off the bench, she cradled it to her cheek. “A new journey begins tonight. Do you think you're ready?"

"No. But Tim and I talked about it. I'm going to do what he asked me to do.” Aanders’ gaze fell upon the lake. “Sometimes Tim was so smart, it was scary. He told me it'd be easier for me if I always pretended he was walking beside me."

"He's right, you know,” Sadie said.

Aanders sighed deeply. “That's what's so scary."

33

Sadie hurried up onto the porch, opened the door and waved the newspaper at Jane, who sat lost in concentration at the kitchen table. Nan had asked Jane to prepare an obituary for Mr. Bakke. Jane sighed with exasperation, wiped the eraser back and forth over her last sentence. Struggling to find the proper wording, Jane had queried Sadie several times before Sadie walked over to the lodge to buy a newspaper.

Mr. Bakke had spent the last fifty years of his life as handyman and caretaker at the Witt's End Resort. Vina, the twins’ mother, had hired him when he was a young man. He never realized the desire to seek alternative employment. Taking a leave from the resort, he had served four years in the Army with the knowledge his position would remain open until his return.