A Myriad of Miracles

Chapter 4

The next day was Sunday. While many in the town of Schooner Bay made their way to church or went to Lou's Dinette for the Weekend Breakfast Special, the Muir family stayed close to home. Candy's temperature was normal that morning, so she was allowed to play on the porch with her brother. They were sorting the shells that Jonathan had collected the day before, and Scruffy was doing his best to make a mess of their neat piles.

One pile held regular scallop shells, another Flat Irish scallop shells, a third one held a small number of Dark King conchs, and another pile had lots of cowries. The last had a goodly number of violet clam shells. Captain Gregg knelt down with them to look at their bounty. Over the years he had taught them to recognize the local beach shells and had shown them some magnificent examples of exotic ones that he had collected on his voyages.

"What do you plan to do with them, Candy?" he asked.

"I saw a magazine article about using shells to create shell flowers. I guess I need some wire that is sturdy but easy enough to shape, some cotton balls, green material, glue, and green decorator's tape. Or at least something like that. Then I can make a shell bouquet."

"I look forward to seeing your creations!" replied the spirit. The girl had recovered from her bout with the measles quickly and easily. Youth was marvelous, he mused. "And you, Jonathan, what are you planning to do now?"

"I don't know. Maybe get some more shells. If Candy can make flowers with 'em, maybe I can make some look like alien robots! Yeah! That's what I'll do! Come on Scruffy!"

The boy grabbed his pail and sand shovel and was off in a flash.

XXXXX

Tex's truck was parked in the middle of some tall pine trees. The soft ground was littered with their pine needles and the air was filled with the scent of the trees and the fresh, damp earth. Radiant shafts of sunlight made their way between the branches, sparkling, picking up motes of dust and making any remaining dew glisten like little diamonds.

Standing naked in the largest of the sunbeams was Tex. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and his arms were extended, as if to absorb the light. He was amazingly still for minute after minute, looking as if he'd been turned into a statue. And if he had been made of marble, he would have been sculpted by a master. Despite his large size, much of his weight was well-defined muscle. His fingers were long, like a musician's and in the sunlight and the gentle breeze, his thinning light-brown hair danced, looking like fine gold thread.

His breathing was barely perceptible. Anyone watching would have thought that he had put himself into some sort of trance-state, and perhaps he had. Tex had carefully picked this isolated spot to camp at precisely because there were no tire tracks, no cold ashes left from some someone else's campfire, no foot prints. He was completely assured that he was alone, to rest and restore himself in a way that was best for him.

Not that companionship wasn't important to him. There had been many friends through the years and a few women. It was just that he had to move on. It was hard to explain even with more than a few old truisms; he wasn't comfortable staying in one place too long, couldn't commit, had to appease his wanderlust, needed to see what was around the next corner. The most human part of him wanted to settle down, have a family and a quotidian life. The Muir children had charmed him, and it would have been a wonderful existence to have a family like that, but it wasn't his existence. Besides, despite being an unusual family group, it had everything it needed.

Finally, Tex moved. The sunlight had warmed him and made his skin glow gold. He shook off his reverie and put on yesterday's clothes before he opened the hood of his beloved truck and bent over it, checking for fluid and oil leaks, and wiping it until it looked like it had just come off the assembly line.

XXXXX

At about the same time, Carolyn was sitting in the sun re-planting some flowers, not really thinking about anything in particular. She'd been able to enjoy a good hot shower that morning for the first time in a long while, and last night Martha had been able to wash a week's worth of laundry. Candy was over the measles; Jonathan's baseball had been recovered and life was good again.

Captain Gregg materialized on the steps next to her. "Madam, you should be wearing a hat. The sun is strong enough to give you heat stroke if you're not careful!"

"I suppose that you would like me to wear a large straw hat with a pink bow under my chin?"

"It would be most suitable! Certainly practical, Mrs. Muir. And," he continued more softly, "it would look very fetching on you, m'dear." He pointed to the large climbing rose bush behind her. It was full of soft pink rosebuds, and choosing a particularly beautiful specimen, he had it detach itself from its neighbors and float through the air until it reached an empty flower pot next to Carolyn. She took off her gardening gloves and picked up the rosebud. To her surprise, it opened slowly and majestically. Although it was a climbing tea rose, which generally have little to no fragrance, this specimen held the heady scent of an old Turkish rose.

"Oh, my! This is beautiful, Captain! Thank you!"

"'Daniel', please. Can't you call me that? After all this time?" For a moment, his thoughts slipped away to wishing for the thousandth time that he could hold this magnificent woman in his arms and make love to her, and with her, even if only just once. Could he, should he, seek out Tex? Spend those glorious moments with her through him? Bigger and stronger than even he, yet more gentle, inhabiting the younger man could make his dream come true. He would be able to satisfy his beloved as completely as was possible on this plane of existence, he was sure. And if was to be only this one time, he wanted it to be something that Carolyn could carry with her for the rest of her life. If he could communicate with Tex without scaring him to death, and convince him to help, he could assure him of his eternal gratitude and a hardly unpleasant (if somewhat voyeuristic) experience.

"Yes, I can, Daniel."

The ghost was jolted back into the moment by Carolyn's soft voice. Could he? Should he? He had to ponder this very seriously. And quickly, too. How soon would it be before Tex decided to move on?

XXXXX

Martha had met with her friends for their weekly after-church lunch and was crossing the street to where she had parked the family station wagon in front of Claymore's office/apartment. He happened to step out of the door just as she reached the curb.

"Afternoon, Martha!" he said, tipping his hat.

"Afternoon, Claymore." she replied.

"Did Tex finish with the water heater yesterday?"

"Yes, he did. It was wonderful to have hot water last night. He did a fine job and he's such a nice young man, too. He would make any mother proud," she stated with a warm look on her face.

"Well," Claymore looked alternately perplexed then dubious, "he doesn't seem to have a penny to his name, no home, nothing of his own except that rattletrap he calls a truck. I don't know if that could really be considered a credit to his parents."

Martha looked down he nose at the landlord. "Claymore, not everyone in this world measures success by what's in their bank account. Tex is one of the nicest, most genuine people I've ever met. He also seems to be one of the happiest. You could take a lesson from him, you know. Why, if you smiled as much in one month as he does in one day, you'd be a much better person."

"Perhaps, but I don't have to worry that one day someone will find my body long dead because I had no home or family. Or that I would have to be buried in a potter's grave!"

Martha thought meanly that if Claymore could find a way to not have to pay for a grave, he would definitely opt for a burial in a potter's field, but then decided that the man's ego would pull him in the opposite direction. He'd want a well-attended funeral with all the trimmings and a headstone that would be the main attraction of the cemetery.

"Claymore, you worry about your own immortal soul. Tex will have more friends who care about him all his life than you do. I can't imagine anyone who knows him would allow him to die alone. And I hope that is an occurrence that won't happen for a long, long time!"

XXXXX

It was deepest dark of night and the little clearing where Tex's truck was parked was almost completely obscured. Not that Captain Gregg needed light to see around him. He heard the scurry of little feet and then an owl's soft hooting as it celebrated its catch of a juicy vole.

The truck still contained the ratty old camping tent, so Daniel looked about the area. There was no sign of anyone sleeping on the ground or even in the trees. He didn't discern any footprints in the moist earth around the campsite and no remains of a fire, either. The ghost was perplexed. Where could Tex be? He returned to the truck and looked inside the cab. It was as empty as everywhere else. He listened as hard as his spectral senses would allow but heard nothing. How could one person disappear so completely?