Charon's Crossing

She took the hatpin from her straw boater, lifted the hat from her head, and stabbed the pin through the crown.

"Just let me change into my housedress," she said calmly, "and I'll join you."

* * *

By midafternoon, the old bricks were as clean as they were ever going to get.

And a good thing, too. Kathryn dumped her scrub brush into her bucket and wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead.

The sun had long since passed its zenith but it was still hot and airless. Not a breath stirred the palm trees.

"I'm finished," she called to Elvira, who'd been working on the opposite side of the terrace.

Elvira sat back on her heels.

"So am I." A smile split her dark face. "Hope I don't look as bad as you do, Kathryn."

Kathryn laughed. "I hope you don't feel as bad, either." She groaned, put her hands in the small of her back, and staggered to her feet. "I have aches where I never knew I had muscles! How about you?"

Elvira grinned and rose as lithely as a dancer. "Raise enough children, you find out about all your muscles early on. I'll clean up. You go on, take yourself a nice bath, then sit down with a cup of tea and you'll feel lots better."

"No, that's okay. I'll clean up with you and then head for the tub—assuming the water heater cooperates, that is."

Both women sighed with pleasure as they stepped into the comparative coolness of the house.

"Heater givin' you trouble?" Elvira asked.

"All the time. It's probably going to be number one on Hiram's fix-it list."

"Well, a cool shower would do the trick, too, on a day like this." Elvira emptied her bucket, then Kathryn's, and put them away under the sink. "Though the temperature'll be droppin' off, soon enough."

Kathryn smiled. She took a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator, filled two glasses and handed one to Elvira.

"You know something the weatherman doesn't? According to him, this heat wave's going to last through the weekend."

"Weatherman's wrong." The older woman took a long sip of tea as she peered out the window at the sky. "A storm's comin' in, goin' to blow the heat clear back to Grenada."

Kathryn looked out the window, too. She saw a blazing sun, a placid sky, and one puffy, Norman Rockwell cloud.

"Wishful thinking."

"You'll see. Storm'll be here by tonight."

"Well, I'd like to think you're right, but this morning's forecast was for at least another day of the same misery."

"Sure. But I've been livin' on this island all my life, listenin' to what it wants to tell me. And it tells me that if you're wise, you'll close this house up good and tight before you go to bed." Elvira finished the last of her tea and put the glass in the sink. "You might even want to come into town for the night."

"My money's on the weatherman. Besides, even if he's wrong, I'm not afraid of a little rain." A slight flush rose on Kathryn's cheeks. "I

admit, it upset me last time, but I wasn't used to this house then."

"I wasn't thinkin' of that, Kathryn, I was thinkin' that this storm's goin' to be a lot more than rain."

Kathryn patted the older woman's arm. "I'll be fine," she said. "Really, don't worry about me."

* * *

By early evening, it was obvious she'd put her money on the wrong forecaster.