A Bridge of Years by Robert Charles Wilson

Author:Robert Charles Wilson [Wilson, Robert Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Adventure, Time Travel, Fiction
ISBN: 9780765327420
Google: tp6-OAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0765327422
Publisher: Doubleday
Published: 1991-07-31T21:00:00+00:00

Ten

Catherine Simmons drove into Belltower after the cremation of her grandmother, Peggy Simmons, who had lived out along the Post Road for many years and who had died a week ago in her sleep.

Summer made Belltower a pretty little town, at least when the wind wasn’t blowing from the mill. Catherine knew the town from her many visits; she didn’t have any trouble finding the Carstairs Funeral Home on a side street off Brierley, between an antique shop and a marine electronics store. She parked and sat in her Honda a few minutes—she was early for her appointment.

Gram Peggy’s fatal stroke had been unexpected and the news of her death still seemed fresh and unreasonable. Of all Catherine’s family, Gram Peggy had seemed most like a fixture—the solidest and most fun of the sorry lot. But Gram Peggy was dead and Catherine supposed she would have to adjust to that fact.

She sighed and climbed out of the car. The afternoon was sunny and the air carried a whiff of ocean. Pretty little dumb little smelly little town, Catherine thought.

There was no ceremony planned and no other Simmonses at the funeral home. Catherine’s father—Gram Peggy’s only son—had died in 1983, of liver cancer, and the rest of the family was hopelessly scattered. Only Catherine had ever come to visit these last several years. Apparently Gram Peggy had appreciated those visits. Her lawyer, Dick Parsons, had phoned to say that the entire estate, including the house, had been left to Catherine: another stunning piece of news, still somewhat indigestible.

The funeral director at Carstairs turned out not to be the unctuous vulture Catherine was expecting; he was a big-shouldered man who looked a little like a football coach. He handed Catherine the bronze urn containing Gram Peggy’s ashes in a gesture that was almost apologetic. "This is the way your grandmother wanted it, Miss Simmons. No ceremony, nothing solemn. She arranged all this in advance."

"Gram Peggy was very practical," Catherine said.

"That she was." He managed a sympathetic smile. "Everything’s been paid for through her lawyer. I hope we’ve been of some small help?"

"You did fine," Catherine said. "Thank you."

There was a woman in the lobby as Catherine left, a gray-haired woman roughly Gram Peggy’s age; she stepped forward and said, "I’m Nancy Horton—a friend of your grandmother’s. I just want to say how sorry I am."

"Thank you," Catherine said. Apparently death involved thanking people a lot.

"I knew Peggy from the shopping trips we took. She still drove, you see. I don’t drive if I can help it. She used to drive me down to the mall on the highway, Wednesday mornings usually. We’d talk. Though she was never a big talker. I liked her a lot, though. You must be Catherine."

"Yes."

"Are you going to be staying in the house?" "Gram’s house? For a little while. Maybe for the summer." "Well, I’m not far away if you need anything." She glanced at the urn in Catherine’s hand. "I don’t know about cremation. It seems—oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying this, should I? But it seems like so little to leave behind.

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