“Yes,” the nurse said. “Hearing is the last sense to go.”
So they talked. Told stories. Remember when. Remember how. Remember the time. Four voices weaving around their father's fading breath, giving him a chorus of memories to carry him home.
“Red sky at night,” Tom said.
“Sailor's delight,” the others finished.
Pop's breathing slowed. Longer pauses between inhales. His children kept talking, kept holding on while letting go.
At 3:47 on the last afternoon of September, with seagulls flying by the window and his children around him, Daniel Perkins exhaled one last time and didn't inhale again.
The room fell silent except for quiet crying.
“He waited,” James said quietly. “Until we were all here.”
“He always had good timing,” Tom said through tears. “Knew how to read the tides.”
Kate called Gregory, the funeral director whom she’d been friends with since high school. They watched as strangers wrapped their father's body with practiced respect. Followed the gurney to the door but no farther. There were papers to sign, arrangements to make, a life to close out.
But first, they stood in the Coastside parking lot, four siblings holding each other as the sun set over the harbor, painting the sky red and gold.
“Sailor's delight,” Kate whispered.
“He would have loved this sunset,” Dani said.
They went back to the inn together, finding Marcy and Rosa and Ben waiting with food and sympathy and the kind of practical support that keeps you moving when you want to collapse. The inn guests were subdued, somehow sensing the grief that had settled over the house.
“We'll have to let the guests know,” Kate said. “People are here on vacation, they’ll offer condolences, but they shouldn’t have to have this impact their lives.”
“I’d close the inn if we weren’t fully booked,” Tom added.
“I’m exhausted,” Kate said. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed. We can make all the arrangements we need tomorrow.”
Ben wrapped his arms around Kate. “Do you want me to stay?”
Kate shook her head. “No. Go home and get some sleep. We’ve got a lot to do in the coming days.”
“Night, everyone,” Ben said.
“Night, Ben. Thanks for being here,” Tom responded.
Kate went to her room and closed the door. Fully clothed, she climbed into her bed, pulled the soft comforter over her body, and wept.
CHAPTER 36
Kate stood in front of the church looking at the orange leaves falling on the lawn. The branches swayed slightly, and with it a cool air chill. She pulled her black sweater coat close and Ben wrapped his arms around her.
“We should go inside. I think they’re ready to start.”
Kate nodded and followed Ben into the church. The Congregational Church was full, fishermen and townspeople, inn guests who'd extended their stays, summer people who'd driven up from Boston. Pop had touched more lives than Kate realized.
She and Ben joined her siblings in the front pew. She wore her mother's pearl necklace and the black dress that she’d worn for Lillian's funeral. Two funerals in one year. Too much loss, too many secrets revealed, too many endings.
Behind them, the church was standing room only. Mrs. Porter and her book club. Charlie Brennan and the other fishermen. The Murphy family, and Margaret, an old friend of her father’s.
The minister spoke about tides and seasons, about Daniel as a young man who'd chosen love over an easier life, who'd builta family and a business with his own hands, who'd weathered storms both literal and metaphorical.
Tom gave the eulogy, his lawyer's composure cracking only once when he talked about Pop teaching them to bait hooks with patience, not force.
