Stopping at the second house, Joan knocked. A plump version of Catherine with silvery hair answered the door.

"Welcome to Sandness, Joan," Moira greeted Joan with an engulfing hug. "I'm Moira."

Catherine was sitting at the table looking more like a skeleton with the skin stretched over it than the woman Joan had known for over a decade. Her classic salt and pepper bob was thin enough Joan could see her scalp through it.

Joan knelt in front of her chair and hugged Catherine, then Joan started, crying. "I've missed you so much."

A thin, trembling hand smoothed Joan's windswept hair. "I miss you too, but you're here now and that is all that matters."

An electric kettle whistled, causing Moira to clap her hands, "And just in time. I take it Wilma dropped you at the corner rather than at the bus stop? She is such a sweetheart unless you get crosswind of her, then she can get as cold as a northern gale. Take off that heavy coat and sit. Tell us all about your trip

Moira's boundless seeming boisterous energy was so different from Catherine's calm, serene energy that Joan found herself smiling broadly as she hung her coat by the door. Joan dug in her bag and pulled out a bag of Catherine's favorite roast coffee. She barely managed to get it through customs. They insisted on opening it and testing the contents for illicit substances, then they brewed some and drank it for good measure.

"Sorry, I had to surrender some to be tested by customs when I refused to just throw it away," Joan apologized.

Moira scowled playfully at her sister sniffing the grounds and teased, "The doctor said you oughtn't drink that but seeing as your daughter-in-law brought it all the way from New York City. I'll make you a pot."

"Just a cup," Catherine insisted in a weak breathy voice, "Unless Joan wants some."

"Oh no," Joan responded cheerily, "The coffee on the Ferry this morning was so strong, I might not sleep tonight or ever again."

Moira chuckled, revealing, "They make it that way on purpose so everyone will hurry and get off the boat."

"It worked and now, may I please use your water closet or is it loo?" Joan asked, almost embarrassed. Moira and Catherine laughed, pointing down the hall as Joan hurried in that direction.

They spent over an hour laughing and talking until Catherine nodded off in her chair. Moira looked at her with fond sadness then whispered to Joan, "I'll drive you over to meet Steven and get the keys."

Getting in Moira's tiny car, the drive was quick, and Joan realized it was less distance than she normally ran daily at home. Steven was pleasant, gave them a tour, and showed Joan how to unlock the bikes. He even partly stocked the kitchen for the family that cancelled. Joan knew she would have to ride the bus to one of the larger towns for groceries, but she didn't mind. There was something hauntingly peaceful about the place.

As Steven left, she asked him hopefully, "Will I get to see any seals?"

"No, they left two weeks ago. There might be a lagger seal or whale, but this is the time of year when anything with any sense is already south to stay warm."

Moira laughed in agreement. Joan put her bags in a room with a queen-sized bed and rode with Moira back to her house. Catherine woke and visited for another hour before she fell asleep again. Her sister carried her and tucked her into bed, then reconnected Catherine to an I.V. pump. Afterward, Moira offered to drive Joan to the EID Community Store then to Robinson & Morrison grocery store. Joan tried not to start crying as Moira described Catherine's condition. As a retired nurse, she was taking the best care of her sister, but time was short.

"I honestly think she was hoping you would make it here," Moira confided as they parked in front of her small house. It was already dark. Inside, Catherine was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of delicious smelling soup. They could smell the bread in the oven.

"Dinner's ready or is it lunch for you, Joan?"

Joan made herself smile and admitted, "I am still on New York time so lunch time for me." Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply to hide the tears trying to escape. "It smells so good. Olivia uses your recipe book all the time. I'm getting so fat." Joan decided not to tell Catherine about her best friend's death. She wanted Catherine to feel that it was okay to die.

"I am glad you are not alone in the house. Moira, you'd love Olivia. She's just like you but she's a fortune teller too, with those tartan cards."

"Tarot cards," Joan corrected with a giggle. "She sold the shop and is going to take some time off, a vacation of sorts," Joan lied at the end but smiled brightly. "She's heading off for an adventure."

"Oh, how nice for her. Olivia was always such a free spirit, and she keeps herself so busy, just like my Joan. They are New York Girls through and through." Catherine began telling the stories of the three times she met Olivia. Listening, Joan bit her lip to not weep as she noticed Catherine only ate six spoons of broth from the soup and a single bite of the warm bread with butter.

When Catherine started yawning, she apologized, "I am sorry, sweetie, I get so tired so quickly."

"That's okay, Mom. I think I have jetlag or the Ferry coffee is wearing off. Will you be okay if Moira drives me to the BnB?" Joan asked cheerfully, pretending to stretch and yawn too.

Catherine kissed her forehead, "I love you, my sweet girl."

"I love you too." Joan helped get Catherine into bed before Moira took her back to the rental house. "What time should I come tomorrow?" Joan asked.

"Whatever time you want? She sleeps most of the time. She was awake more today than she had been in a week." Moira smiled at her sadly while driving, "Joan, thank you for coming. I'm sorry about your friend Olivia."

Nodding, Joan realized Moira figured out the truth and begged, "Don't tell Catherine, I don't want her to worry about me or hang on because she doesn't want me to be alone."

"What happened?" Moira asked.

"Olivia has had cancerous tumors since she was a little girl. This time it was in her brain. I wasn't lying when I said she sold the shop and went on an adventure. Olivia was always excited to see what came after death," Joan admitted.

"And what do you think?" Moira asked as she turned into the narrow gravel drive and stopped in front of the house.

Joan sat quietly for a moment then shook her head, "I hope there is an afterlife, but I honestly don't know. I don't want to think that people disappear when they die. I don't want to imagine a world where people like Olivia and Catherine are just gone forever."

Joan got out and took her groceries out of the boot. The wind was so cold, it took her breath away. Alone in the rental, Joan thought back to what Steven said about why he had a cancellation; a family suffered a sudden death. Absently, she wondered who Thane killed so she could be here with Catherine. She wasn't tired so she walked out to the rocks above the sea. Watching the water, Joan looked up at the sky. To the north, a faint glow of green shimmered below the Northern Star. When her teeth started to chatter, she went inside. Curling in a wooly blanket with a cup of tea, Joan looked at the Marigold Tarot card, then started reading Olivia's book on Greek mythology.

The next two days involved riding a bike to Moira's house, spending time with Catherine while she was awake and riding back to the rental before it became dark. She spent her evenings alone, reading the book about Greek Myths and searching the internet for information about entities of death. The one thing she learned that upset her the most was that death entities didn't actually kill; they simply collected those who were dying already. It made her feel guilty for accusing Thane of murdering Olivia.

Waking at dawn on the fourth day, Joan was amazed at how quickly she adjusted to the time change. She decided to walk up the northern shore and explored the ruins of a house. Thinking she was alone in that part of Garth as she learned the area was called, she was surprised to notice there was a man standing on the foggy shore with a heavy fishing rod. She watched him for a few minutes then started to walk away.

"My nephew truly loves you," the man called out.

Joan turned suddenly to face him. "Who are you? Are you here for Catherine?"

"No, today is not her date." The bearded man looked like he was in his late sixties. White streaks rested in his dark hair. "Once I was called Thanatos, I gathered the dead and my cousin Hades ruled them. None of my children or his were born with our particular gifts until Thane, but he has a unique heart. Overwhelmingly compassionate for some, and vigilante vengeful toward others, but he was losing hope until he met you."

"I don't believe in what you are," Joan breathed out then almost shouted, "I don't believe you exist."

Thanatos shrugged. "Your belief or disbelief is irrelevant. We exist regardless. We live, we love, we can be killed. We are not so different than you." 

They stood in silence with whirls of fog moving around them.

"How old are you?" Joan asked shakily.

He shrugged, admitting as he cast the line out again, "I am uncertain. I remember places now called Eden and Stonehenge. I remember the pyramids being built in Egypt and South America." He cast line out another time, reeling it in slower this time. "We share your world but exist beyond it too. Shakespeare wasn't wrong... There are more things in heaven and earth, Joan Hannah, than dreamt of in your philosophies." When he turned to face her, his eyes were infinitely darker and colder than Thane's. "Do not let your mother's agnosticism keep you from someone who would love you into eternity."

As Joan stared at him, he faded away like a spirit in the fog. Suddenly terrified for Catherine, she sprinted in a diagonal past two small lakes toward Bousta Road. Running hard, she arrived at Moira's house in less than fifteen minutes. She rushed inside without knocking and hurried to Catherine's room. Joan stared at her beloved mother-in-law. Covering her mouth to smother her panting, she retreated from the room and closed the door when Catherine shifted in her sleep. 

"Thank gawd, she's alive."