White Horses On The Bay

I Can See Clearly Now

Force 2: 4 - 6 Knots

Light Breeze

Small wavelets, still short, but more pronounced. Crests have a glassy appearance but do not break.

It was only mid morning but already too hot in the direct sun to prepare the grounds for the church flowerbeds. The annual May heat-wave, the one that caught people off guard like it was some sort of once-in-a-generation phenomenon, had settled into Twillingate to tease its inhabitants; make them think the long winter of 1964 was finally over. Fisher decided to tackle some indoor chores on the slow Monday morning and take advantage of the cool wooden interior of St. Peter's. He loved the way the sanctuary smelled when it was hot outside. Something about the late spring heat coaxed out the natural oils in the chestnut pews and mahogany windowsills and made the whole blessed place smell heavenly.

Fisher figured he could paint the cloakroom and wash the windows until late afternoon when the northeast breeze that usually picked up around then, would make outdoor chores a bit easier. He relished the freedom that came with his job; it made him smile. No one ever looked over his shoulder, barking orders or enforcing rules and he liked that about his days, even if it was lonely work sometimes. The week's to-do list Reverend Pearce had left for him after the service on Sunday was short and relatively pleasant and he was eager to get started. Concentrating on tasks he could easily accomplish helped take his mind off Jenny for a while.

It had been a long month with only a few small events in Twillingate. There were no weddings or funerals and even the monthly Scuff N Scoff had to be postponed until the men came back from the cod run. The lack of things to occupy his time added to Fisher's unsettled state; where did things stand between him and Jenny? Since her return to Ottawa nearly six weeks ago now, her one short letter and the few phone calls between them did nothing to reassure him of their status. At times the whole encounter felt like a weird dream, like an apparition in the drifting fog of his life. The more he thought about that strange April week, when his grandmother died, his twin nephews were born and his relationship with Randy Miller turned completely upside down, the more he questioned his time with Jenny. In fact, their connection now had become awkward and forced.

The land around him may have been waking up with the warmth of spring but the passion he felt for Jenny Scott was drifting off in the cold distance between them. His heart no longer raced when he thought of her. He hadn't wanted to feel that way, but as the weeks slipped by, there was just no denying the romantic ride he'd been on was not only slowing down, it was coming to an unsatisfying end.

Fisher shrugged his thoughts as he tried to concentrate on his morning's work, cleaning the south facing windows of the church. He positioned the ladder under the first window at the far end of the side aisle and climbed its rungs with a pail of water and a few clean rags. The windows were dirty from a winter's worth of candle smoke and condensation; they would take all week to finish.

As the first smeared pane became clear through his efforts, he could see the town waking up outside the church. Across Ochre Point Road, he saw the old post office - the abandoned building that had stood unpainted and unkempt for nearly a decade - and something unusual caught his eye. There was activity there he'd not noticed before; someone was inside cleaning its windows. The two-story structure had been boarded up years ago when the new post office opened at the back of Crosbie's Five and Dime. Now the weathered building was strangely coming back to life. Fisher was intrigued.

"I wonder who that is?" he said to himself as he polished the stained glass section of the windowpane. He decided to check it out more closely on his way to the pub at lunch.

"Fisher!" Gwen's voice echoed through the empty church and startled him. He nearly lost his balance on the ladder and had to brace himself against the window frame.

"Good....heavens, Gwen, you nearly frightened me to death," Fisher caught himself before falling and taking the Lord's name in vain. "What are you doing here, my dear?"

"Just wanted to stop in and get the baptism planned for the twins," she answered as she waddled toward her brother. She still looked pregnant wearing the old maternity dress for comfort now. "They're out in the pram. Can you see them?"

Fisher looked down at the parking lot beside the church and saw his nephews lying at each end of Gwen's old baby carriage. "Yep, there they are. Can't tell them apart still, at least not from here!"

"I'm thinking maybe two Sunday's from now, for the service. Supposed to be a fortnight from birth. Christ, I can barely gather the energy to stand upright these days, let alone plan a big event."

"Well, I'll help you. Randy will be back soon from the last of the cod run, won't he?"

"Probably next week, I think. He radioed last night, said they were in the middle of a friggin huge haul this time." Gwen lowered her head and crossed her chest to make up for her cussing in the holy place. "By the way, you heard from Jenny lately?"

"Just the one letter and a couple of phone calls. I have a feeling she's come to her senses about me."

"Oh go on, now. That's ridiculous. Probably she's just busy with her schoolin and such. Give her the benefit of the doubt, my dear."

"To be honest, Gwen, I don't know that I want to. I'm just wondering about the whole thing. The longer I go without seeing her, the more I get used to it."

"Well, you know that old saying, now? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.....too much absence, love no longer," Gwen said as she picked up one of Sunday's used programs. "Probably why Randy and I are still together, when you think about it."

"Hey, by the way, do you know what's going on over at the old post office? I can see someone's inside cleaning the windows and all the boards are gone."

"Oh, that's Heather Turner. She and her mom bought the building last week and they're going to open up a business. Books, I think. And a hair salon. Odd combination, if you ask me."

"Well, that's interesting. She's got that English degree and all. I guess the ambulance job was only temporary."

"Nope. I hear she's going to keep that and have the store. It'll be a big job getting that building up to snuff. Been empty so long, even the bats moved out."

"Maybe I'll give her a hand with the work. I'd love something to keep myself busy these days." Fisher peered out the window at the old post office across the street and saw Heather shaking a dust rag on its front step. She was as pretty the last time he saw her; the day Gwen's twins were born. She'd had on a uniform then but now she was wearing a pair of cut off shorts, a sleeveless top and a checkered kerchief in her hair. Fisher watched her wipe her forehead with her arm and realized she was looking his way. He thought she couldn't see him inside the church but just in case, he waved to her.

"I said, that would be a good idea!" Gwen shouted a second time and then she fanned herself with the church program. "I would say, you might just have a thing for that girl, too," she added.

"Ya, right." Fisher laughed but then turned to look at Heather again. She had gone inside the building and shut the door.

"It never rains, but it pours, my dear." Gwen went into the church office to leave Reverend Pearce a note.

Fisher continued to wipe the streaks off the window and noticed the stained glass art above him. The story of St. Peter and his walk on the water was depicted in the scene. He remembered the story of the seals and the great harvest of 1862.