“Eric? Eric?”

Eric was deep in a dream about some canoe trip somewhere in the past. There was no way of telling where or when it might have been, but it was pleasant until he heard Eunice calling him, then shaking his shoulder.

Unlike Jeff, who in his better days had needed an hour and two or three cups of coffee to be thoroughly awake, Eric could be at perhaps eighty percent of capacity within seconds of being wakened, and at full power not long thereafter. “What is it, Eunice?” he said, the vision of the wilderness river vanishing.

“It’s Jeff,” she said simply. “I think he’s gone.”

“I better go see,” he said, throwing back the covers on the bed in what had once been Mark’s room, the smallest of the upstairs bedrooms. Eric had never been much of one to wear pajamas until he’d moved into the house from the guest cottage to help take care of Jeff, but he wore them now. For that matter, he knew that Eunice had never been one to wear clothes to bed before that time either, but now she was wearing her normal ankle-length flannel nightgown.

Within seconds Eric was clumping down the stairs to what had become Jeff’s room. It didn’t take more than seconds to realize that Eunice was right; Jeff’s body was cold and stiff. Eric couldn’t detect any sign of breathing, or a heartbeat or reflexes. Eric thought he must have died in his sleep.

There were worse ways to go. Eric remembered Todd Gamble’s body after he’d fallen trying to solo-climb the Lost Arrow in Yosemite. What a mess that had been! His death had been part of the reason Eric had started to back away from big wall climbing many years before. This was different – Jeff had just gone quietly, almost as quietly as he had lived. Perhaps it was better to do it that way.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Eric said, standing up after trying to detect signs of life in his old friend.

“It’s over with,” she said sadly. “All these years . . . Eric, what do we do now?”

“I’ll call 9-1-1,” he replied, putting an arm around her shoulder. He hadn’t told Eunice, not wanting to sound pessimistic, but some months before he’d talked with Arden Stiverson at the funeral home and Dr. Ibrahim about what to do if Jeff died at home, and made a few preparations just in case. “They’ll send someone. I’ll also call the funeral home.”

“Thanks, Eric. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Eric gave an extra squeeze on his half-hug, trying to lend her a little comfort, then left her there alone with her husband’s body. After all these years she deserved a last few minutes alone with him, and he was pretty sure there wouldn’t be the opportunity for it much longer. He had no doubt that the next few days were going to be trying, especially for her.

He went to the kitchen, mostly so he wouldn’t disturb Eunice as much, and started dialing the wall phone. The dispatcher at the Sheriff’s office in Bolivar told him the ambulance and a deputy would be there shortly, and offered to call Stiverson’s for him, an offer he accepted. That much done, he got the coffeepot going – he knew he’d want a cup soon and was sure Eunice would also. Besides, there were going to be several strangers in the house shortly, and there was no reason they shouldn’t be at least a little hospitable.

Once the coffee was going, Eric went back up to his room to get dressed for the day: the same pair of jeans he’d worn the day before, but a clean sweat shirt. Once he had that done, he went back to the kitchen to await the people who were coming.

The coffeepot wasn’t quite done yet when Eunice appeared in the kitchen. “Did you get the calls made?” she asked.

“All done,” he told her. “Someone will be here shortly. You might want to get dressed while there’s still time.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said bleakly. She let out a sigh and added, “I guess I knew it had to come to an end sometime, but I didn’t expect it this soon.”

“It could have been worse, Eunice. A lot worse.”

“Yes, I know.” She turned to go to her bedroom to change, while Eric decided that the coffee was done enough. He poured himself a cup and sat down to wait. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought. He and Eunice had done their best for a couple of years to try to maintain some degree of quality of life for Jeff. All three of them knew without discussing it that it had been a futile hope compared to what they would have liked it to be. Not for the first time, Eric reflected that he was glad he hadn’t been in Jeff’s shoes the last two years.

He couldn’t help thinking of a wisecrack he’d made to Jeff and Eunice decades before. It had been back when they were all young and the realities of old age weren’t even a cloud on the horizon, back when he was doing risky things like climbing some of the tougher walls in Yosemite National Park. “There are only two ways out of this life,” he’d said way back then, “sick or quick. Given the choice, I’ll take quick.” Jeff hadn’t been given that choice, and he’d had to face it the hard way. Perhaps it was disloyal to think of his old friend that way, but it seemed to Eric that Jeff’s death had come as a final blessing, liberation from a body that had become a prison to him. That, however, was something he didn’t think he wanted to say to Eunice, at least not now.

Eric’s thoughts were diverted by a car pulling up outside. He got up, coffee cup in hand, to see one of the Bolivar County Sheriff’s cars, so went to the door to greet the deputy, a heavy-set, grizzled man who appeared to be about forty.

“Hi,” the deputy said. “Is this the Harrington residence?”

Eric admitted it was, and said that he’d called about Jeff Harrington’s death. “Why don’t you come in?” he asked.

“And you are?” the deputy asked.

“Eric Snow. I’m an old family friend who’s been helping Jeff’s wife take care of him. He had a stroke a couple years ago and hasn’t been well. We think he died in his sleep last night.”

“The body’s inside, right?”

“Right, we haven’t moved him.”

“Was he under a doctor’s care?”

“Right, Dr. Ibrahim, over in Bolivar.”

“How long has it been since the doctor last saw Mr. Harrington?”

“A couple weeks,” Eric admitted. “We took Jeff in to see him, I think it was a week ago last Wednesday.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem” the deputy said. “I suppose we can wait around for the ambulance guys to arrive.”

“I have a fresh pot of coffee, if you’re interested.”

“Talked me into it,” the deputy said. “Is Mrs. Harrington around?”

“She was getting dressed, she ought to be out shortly.”

“Is she taking it all right?”

“About as well as can be expected,” Jeff replied obliquely. He wasn’t about to say it to the deputy, but somehow he’d expected Eunice to be a little more devastated. Perhaps she felt the way he did – Jeff’s death had been a relief in a way. Again, it was something Eric thought he’d better keep to himself.

Eric and the deputy had just gotten seated at the kitchen table when there were flashing lights outside. “Damn it,” the man said. “I know they were told Code 1, no lights or siren. They didn’t need the overheads, but they like to feel important.”

“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

Once the ambulance crew arrived, the formalities were out of the way quickly. Eric, Eunice, and the deputy watched from the door of Jeff’s room; like Eric a few minutes before, they couldn’t detect any signs of life in Jeff’s body, even when using a advanced life support monitor. “I think we can get by without a formal pronouncement on the scene,” one of the EMTs said. “His doctor can do it by phone. As far as we’re concerned, you can release him to the funeral home.”

Just then, there was a knock at the back door; as at most houses on lakes, the Harringtons considered the lake side of the house to be the front and the road side to be the back. The caller proved to be Alton Stiverson, the funeral home director, who was professionally sympathetic. Eunice and Jeff had known him for many years, and had made funeral pre-arrangements long before Jeff’s stroke, a fact for which Eric was grateful – things were going to be hectic enough anyway. “I’ll go ahead and take him with me,” Stiverson said. “I can come back later today if you want to finalize the arrangements, such as setting the service time.”

“Thank you, Alton,” Eunice said. “I think I need to let the kids know before we pin anything down. Would we be all right in having the funeral Friday?”

“Friday would work fine, we have nothing else scheduled,” the funeral director said. “You’ll need to set up a tentative time for the service, and a few other things. I’ll need the clothes you’ll want for burial, and you should be thinking about what you want to say in his obituary.”

“We wrote an obituary before he had his stroke,” Eunice told him. “I know it must be a little dated, so I’ll have to go over it.”

“How about if I come back about one this afternoon?” Stiverson suggested. “That would give you a little time to pull a few things together.”

“One o’clock sounds fine, Alton,” she said. “I’m sorry I have to put you to the trouble at this hour of the morning.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that,” he smiled. “This is my job, after all. I’m just sorry for you. I know you and Jeff had a wonderful life together.”

“We really did,” she told him. “I’m going to be a long time coming to the realization that he’s actually gone.”

“I can tell you it’s going to take a while,” the funeral director told her, “especially because of the length of time the two of you were together.”

The ambulance crew helped Stiverson load Jeff’s body on a gurney, and they took him to the hearse outside. It seemed just a touch informal for a way for Jeff to leave the house he’d lived in for over fifty years, but there was nothing to be done about it. The ambulance crew and the deputy got into their vehicles and left when that was done. In a few more minutes the house was quiet; everyone was gone but Eric and Eunice.

“Would you like a bit of breakfast?” he asked, looking for a way to break the mixed feelings the departure of everyone had left behind.

“I think so,” she replied. “Eric, this is all very sudden. I mean, I knew this was coming sooner or later, but I just wasn’t expecting it. Now, it seems like I’m at a loss for what to do.”

“The big thing you need to do right now is to let the kids know,” he prompted her. “You shouldn’t let that go much longer. I could call if I had to, but you should be the one to do it if you feel up to it.”

“Oh, yes, certainly,” she agreed. “I’d better get started on that.”

One of the reasons that Eric had spent so much time helping Eunice care for Jeff was that there was no one else in the family nearby who could help her. The closest was their oldest daughter, Ann Newsome; she and her husband lived in Evansville, Indiana, almost three hundred miles away. The rest of their descendents were scattered from upstate New York to downstate California. One of those descendents they hadn’t seen since she’d been a baby, and another they hadn’t seen because she was just a baby.

Ann had tried to be supportive and got up for a visit as often as she could, but admitted she was very thankful that Eric was willing and available to help her mother out. She was very busy with her tax accounting business, especially this time of year; her children, all out and on their own now, were scattered just about as badly as the rest of the family. Eunice and Jeff’s other two children lived in Panama City, Florida, and Reno, Nevada; neither made it back to Wychbold more than once a year or so, if that. Back before his stroke Jeff had once wryly commented, “We have not proved to be a very nuclear family, except maybe for the explosive part.”

At one time there had been talk of a big family reunion to celebrate Jeff and Eunice’s fiftieth anniversary, but the stroke had gotten in the way of that, too, so it never happened. The family kept in touch through phone calls, e-mail, and the occasional letter, but it had been over ten years since the whole herd had been together. Eric – all the kids in the family knew him as “Uncle Eric” – remembered it well. The house had been so full that some of the older kids had camped out in tents on the lawn; one night there had been a mass grandkids skinny-dipping party that had included the whole range of those present, from ages four to seventeen. It was an event still talked about.

Eric turned to making breakfast; he figured it ought to be a good one, something that would be comfort food for both Eunice and himself. He decided on sausages and hash browns with brown gravy – not exactly what many people would have thought would be a good breakfast meal, but one that all three of them had enjoyed in the past. Eunice went to the living room, parked in her chair, and began calling.

Ann was first, of course – the oldest child, and the one most supportive through the whole ordeal with Jeff, and, as luck would have it, the easiest to get on the phone; it was late enough now that her office was open. It took Eunice a moment to get past a thickheaded receptionist, but soon she had her daughter on the phone. Eric could only hear Eunice’s end of the phone conversation, but could tell that Ann was saddened at the news. From his viewpoint, he could tell that Eunice seemed to be handling things all right, so turned his attention to shredding potatoes.

A few minutes later, as Eric was getting breakfast wrapped up, Eunice came back out to the kitchen. “Ann was sad, but in a way not surprised,” she reported. “And when you get down to it, I have to say that for myself. She and Bob are going to drive up tomorrow, assuming she can cancel a couple of appointments. She said she’d go ahead and call her kids. There’s no way of telling if they’re all going to be able to make it for the funeral, but she said she’d call back and let me know. It turns out I woke up Elaine, thanks to the time differential. She and Brian will be coming, and they’ll most likely bring Dustin and Shanna, but they’re going to have to work out arrangements.”

“Shouldn’t be too bad,” Eric replied hopefully. “Reno has a good airport; there are lots of flights in and out.”

“We can hope. She says they’re usually pretty full, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I couldn’t get hold of Mark, but Lori says he’s going to be in his office a little later and she’ll try to get hold of him. I don’t doubt they’ll be here, but both Bradley and Shelby are in college, so it’s anybody’s guess about them.”

“It seems pretty likely to me that an unanticipated family reunion is in the offing,” Eric grinned. “And this time there isn’t going to be any camping out on the lawn or skinny-dipping in the lake, not with it being February.”

“Yes, I think we’re going to have a house full for at least a night or two. I don’t know where we’re going to put everybody. I’m afraid someone will have to stay in a motel.”

“I could move back out into the guest cottage,” Eric offered as he put the sausages on plates for the two of them. “That would open things up a little.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. We can put more people in the cottage than we could put in Mark’s room, so you might as well stay put. Besides, you’ve gone to enough trouble in this, and I don’t think you should be put out any more. You’ve been a lot closer to Jeff the last few years than anyone in the family but me, and especially the last two years, so I think you deserve a little respect for that.”

“Suit yourself. I don’t mind either way. But if we’re going to put someone into the guest cottage I need to go out and pick a few things up, as well as turn up the heat. But you know what we really should do is call the rental agency and get the hospital bed out of Jeff’s room, just so it doesn’t remind us of him. There’s that double bed in the attic we could put in there in its place, and that would account for a couple people.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I wouldn’t be thrilled about having to wrestle the mattress down those stairs, and getting it up there again would be a worse job. I’m afraid neither of us are as young as we used to be, Eric.”

“No big deal, we’ll volunteer some of the first arrivals,” he said as he finished drowning the hash browns in the brown gravy, then carrying the meal over to the table. “I’ll call the rental place and have them get it out of here today. That’ll give me a little time to get the place presentable.”

“You mean give us time to get it more presentable, don’t you?”

“You’re going to be the one answering phone call after phone call,” he grinned as he sat down at the table. “I’m willing to bet we’re not going to get through breakfast before the phone rings and it may not shut up all day.”

“I don’t think I’m going to take that bet since I expect Mark or Ann will be calling back any time now.”

She’d no more than gotten the words out of her mouth when the phone rang. “Eat,” he said, getting up. “I’ll try to hold off whoever it is for a couple minutes.”

“Thank you, Eric,” she smiled. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

Eric went to the wall-mounted kitchen phone and answered, “Harrington residence.”

“Uncle Eric,” he heard Mark say, “Lori just called me and told me about Dad. Is Mom doing all right?”

“I’d have to say about as well as can be expected. We just sat down to breakfast, so let’s give her a minute with it before it gets cold.”

“What happened, anyway?”

“We’re not totally sure,” Eric sighed. “It doesn’t look like there’s going to be an autopsy, so we’ll probably never know for a hundred percent. The ambulance guys who were here said they thought it was another stroke, which wouldn’t be surprising. Whatever it was, it happened after we put him to bed last night, so he died peacefully in his sleep.”

“Uncle Eric, I know this whole thing has had to have been hard on Mom, and I’m just sorry I couldn’t have been more help. But thank you for all the help you’ve been to her.”

“No big deal. Mark, your father was my best friend for well over half a century. I couldn’t do any less for him or for your mother.”

While Eunice worked on her breakfast, Eric and Mark managed to talk for another couple minutes, and somehow never managed to get to the topics of the weather in either Florida or Michigan. Eric had some pleasant memories of Mark as a kid; among other things, Eric had taught him how to paddle a canoe efficiently, and had taught him the basics of rock climbing and rope work for protection. Since there was a lack of suitable cliffs in the area, an abandoned stone-arch railroad bridge had served the purpose. There were other things, too; sometimes Mark had been willing to talk about growing-up problems with Eric when they were a little too embarrassing to bring to his parents. Mark hadn’t taken some of that advice, and he’d paid the price for years. Now, Mark had kids older than he’d been in those years; where had the time gone?

Before long Eric handed the phone to Eunice; she and her only son had a discussion that went on for a few minutes while Eric ate his own breakfast. When the conversation showed signs of slowing down, he took Eunice’s plate and popped it in the microwave for a minute to warm it up. He set it down in front of her just in time to take the phone from her and put it back on the hook.

“It sounds like they’re going to be here,” she reported. “But I’d guess not until sometime Thursday. Lori really hates to fly, so it looks like they’re going to drive up. It’ll take them a good two days.”

“Are Brad and Shelby coming with them?”

“He doesn’t know. Unless their mother called them, they don’t know about Jeff yet.”

Even with re-heating her breakfast, it took Eunice half an hour to finish it; most of the time was spent on the phone, and it didn’t appear the calls would die down soon. She was still dealing with the phone while Eric rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Since the main phone was tied up, he went and got the cell phone either he or Eunice had carried when they’d had to be out of the house for some reason. He didn’t like using the thing – the sound quality was awful, and the buttons too small for his fingers, but at least it could be used to make some outgoing calls, like to the rental company to come pick up the hospital bed. He also called Alec Hammond, the new owner of Harrington Gas and Oil and his occasional boss, to let him know that Jeff had passed on and that the funeral arrangements were still up in the air; Alec agreed to pass the word.

By then the phone calls were dying down a little. Eric told Eunice about letting Hammond know, and she was glad he’d done it. “There are probably a few other people we should call,” she said. “The neighbors on both sides ought to know, and I really ought to call Donna.”

“Yeah, you should,” he agreed. “She’ll probably want to be here for the funeral.”

“Would you like to do it, Eric? I could do it but I’m getting a little tired of having the phone in my ear.”

“I can call her,” he said. “She and I may have had a little history, but that was over forty years ago, and a lot of water has gone down the river since then.”

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