The Island of Heavenly Daze Read online

  The Island of

  Heavenly Daze

  Heavenly Daze Book One

  LORI COPELAND

  ANGELA HUNT

  © 2000 by Lori Copeland and Angela E. Hunt

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any other means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other— except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Published in association with Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

  Map illustration by Bill Williams, © 2001. (Thanks, Bill and Jane! Enjoyed the laughter and the dramatic reading!)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Copeland, Lori.

  The island of Heavenly Daze / Lori Copeland and Angela Hunt.

  p. cm. — (Heavenly Daze series)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-8499-4219-8 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-59554-554-1 (mass market)

  1. Islands—Maine—Fiction. I. Hunt, Angela Elwell, 1957-II. Title.

  PS3553.O6336I7 2008

  813'.54—dc22

  2007047011

  Printed in the United States of America

  08 09 10 11 12 QW 5 4 3 2 1

  And we know that God causes everything

  to work together for the good

  of those who love God

  and are called according to his purpose for them.

  —ST. PAUL, writing to the Romans

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Epilogue

  Authors’ Note

  If You Want to Know More About . . .

  About the Authors

  Prologue

  Ican’t say that life here is difficult. I suppose some of you more jaded humans might call this place isolated, or even “Godforsaken,” but we of the celestial persuasion know that the Lord hasn’t forsaken even the remotest place on earth.

  And how could he forget this quaint little island? In an age when men are flying to the moon and back with little fanfare and it’s possible to zap a typed message around the world in a matter of seconds, it’s hard to believe a sleepy place like Heavenly Daze could even exist. But our little town not only exists, I believe it’s thriving in a world where evil threatens to blot out every trace of goodness. The courageous people who live here are glowing like lights in darkness, and they’re learning and growing according to the Lord’s plan. Oh, they’re not perfect. Not by a far shot. But they’re moldable humans, and they’ve had a little extra help over the years.

  Our angelic team—Elezar, Zuriel, Caleb, Abner, Yakov, Micah, and myself—have been watching over the humans of Heavenly Daze for over two hundred years. You see, it all began when—well, it would be easier for me to pull back the curtain of time and let you witness the scene. I can do that, you know—it’s one of the liberties the Lord allows me to take now and then.

  So settle back in a comfortable place and prepare to visit our community as it was . . . and as it is. And then you’ll understand why I harbor such high hopes for the twenty-nine inhabitants of our little island . . . especially for the twenty-two humans of Heavenly Daze.

  —GAVRIEL

  Heavenly Daze

  estab. 1798

  Maine, 1798

  Captain Jacques de Cuvier drew a shuddering breath, imagining himself back at sea, the sound of waves slapping against the hull. He listened for the snap of sails as the wind caught the rigging, skimming the sailing vessel along the high seas.

  Oh, the joy of his youth! The feel of rough planks beneath his booted feet, legs braced against the rolling decks. Deck hands skimming yardarms and shouting salty rejoinders to the men below. Was that—yes, it was Emil grinning at him, his devilishly handsome first mate with the whole world before him.

  Tears of satisfaction rolled down his cheek.

  Thank you, Father. I have had a good life.

  He stirred, slowly opening his eyes when the jingle of rattling cups disturbed him. The door opened softly and Jacques saw Emil come into the room. The old servant shuffled across the floor, his shoulders bent, his coarse thatch of once-raven hair now snow-white. When had Emil gotten so old?

  When had Jacques?

  Fading sunlight danced along the walls of his bedchamber. Heavenly beams threw mellow shadows across the foot of the bed and he smiled. Death was very near. Medication no longer masked the pain, but Jacques no longer fought it. Indeed, he embraced the passing, ran toward it, knowing that very soon his earthly race would be run. Happiness lurked at the corners of his mouth as the knowledge settled around his heart like a child’s smile.

  I am ready, Father.

  Emil smiled as he set a tray on the bedside table. “I’ve made soup, Captain. I’d hoped you might eat a bite before we go.”

  “Of course, Emil. That’s very kind of you.” Jacques allowed the servant to lift his wasted frame and place a couple of pillows behind his head. He was as weak as a rotted rope. “Thank you—thank you.” While Emil poured tea, Jacques’s eyes drifted shut. The street noise seemed unusually distracting tonight. Whaling ships filled the deep harbor, but he was now too sick to send them away. When he murmured for Emil to close the window, the old servant quickly set the soup aside to do his bidding.

  The faint breeze no longer ruffled the lace curtains. Below he could hear the drunken revelers lifting their steins in laughter and the softer voices of harlots plying their trades to the worldly sea dogs. His heart ached. His beautiful Heavenly Days had turned into Gomorrah.

  “Why, Emil? Why must they do this to our town?”

  “I don’t know, Captain.”

  Retreating into his memories, Jacques murmured, “Do you remember the day we found this island?”

  Emil nodded, returning to the light meal. “A glorious day it was—about this time of year, wasn’t it?”

  Smiling, the captain inclined his head. “Yes, yes. Early fall. The six of us were tired. Tired of fighting the seas and Mother Nature. Ah, Emil, do you remember how hard we worked to build the houses?”

  “Yes, sir. Six homes, here on the island. For fellow captains who’d tired of the open seas and wanted a place to spend their waning years. Such a beautiful dream.”

  “Not a man regretted it. This place gave us a good life for many years.”

  Until the sea dogs came.

  “I know, sir.” Emil spooned gruel into his captain’s mouth. When the liquid d
ribbled down Jacques’s chin, the manservant gently blotted it with a napkin.

  “My fellow captains are gone now. I’m the only one left and I have one foot in the grave.”

  Emil clucked his tongue. “I don’t like for you to talk this way, Captain.”

  “I know, I know, but it’s the truth.” Jacques shook his head when Emil tried to spoon more soup in his mouth. Lying back against the pillow, he closed his eyes. “What will you do when I’m gone, Emil?”

  The servant carefully placed the lid back on the silver tureen. “Why, I’ll stay here and tend the house, I suppose. Until I, too, am called home.”

  Jacques’s eyes opened when Emil cleared his throat. “What would you have me do with the house after I join you?” the servant asked quietly.

  Jacques shook his head. “Give it to my son.”

  “But I wouldn’t know where to find Master de Cuvier! Even you haven’t seen the lad since he was a small boy.”

  That was true. Jacques hadn’t seen the child since his wife took him away. Elinore wanted the lad to have a solid home, and Jacques’s home bounced with the tide.

  “How old would he be now, Emil? Sixty?” A chuckle started deep in Jacques’s belly and worked its way up his throat. “I have a sixty-year-old boy.”

  “Yes, sir, you do at that.” Emil caught the spirit and the two men shared a good laugh.

  Sobering, Jacques sighed. “I don’t even know if he lives.”

  “If he does, I will find him,” Emil promised. “And I will tell him he has inherited a fine house!”

  “And an island.” Jacques frowned, distracted by the racket going on outside. Until a few years ago, the island had retained its serenity. Then the whalers came, as hungry for pleasure as they were for whale meat. “I still own this island and feel responsible for it. Those—those devils may have their day, but soon the Lord will hear my prayers.” He opened his eyes. “The church is ready?”

  “All finished, sir, with a fresh-painted sign hangin’ over the door. It awaits your arrival.”

  “Then help me up, Emil. I have one last thing to do before I go.”

  “Captain—”

  “No arguments, Emil. I must pray as I have never prayed before. This is the final thing I must do for my fellow captains, and the last earthly request Jacques de Cuvier will ever make.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The old servant struggled to his feet and gently helped the captain swing his spindly legs over the side of the bed. Jacques sat for a moment, gathering strength, then got up and struggled into his uniform.

  When dressed, he stared at his wavering image in the looking glass. His suit hung on his lank frame; even his hat now seemed too big for his head.

  “Pitiful,” he announced.

  “Yes, sir,” Emil agreed, flicking a speck of lint off the dark fabric.

  Straightening, Jacques took hold of Emil’s arm. “I’m ready.”

  “Sir—are you sure you—we can do this?”

  “The Lord will provide the strength we need, Emil, but I will concede it isn’t wise for us to tarry.”

  Once inside the carriage, Emil wrapped Jacques in a soft warm robe before arduously mounting the carriage seat. Twice he paused to catch his breath, each time glancing at Jacques for reassurance.

  The stone streets jarred Jacques’s weary bones, and he held tightly to the leather strap as the coach rattled over the cobblestones. Vibrant rays of red, yellow, and gold streaked the western horizon as Emil drove past the sea with the sound of gulls winging through the glowing sunset.

  A simple clapboard structure came into view as the carriage rounded a corner. Jacques smiled. He’d spared no expense on the steeple. The monument would be a lasting tribute to God’s glory. Majestically tall, the spirals stretched for the gates of heaven.

  If his prayers were answered, this church would be the crowning glory of Heavenly Days for generations to come. It would symbolize the way he wanted the town to go on—as a refuge for the weary. So any peace-seeker who entered the church or any of the six houses would surely find it.

  On this October day of Jacques’s eighty-ninth year, he would leave this town and this dream of a better world to future generations.

  The carriage rolled to a stop and Emil set the brake, then slowly extricated himself from the driver’s seat. He opened the carriage door, and his rheumy eyes focused on Jacques.

  “Help me down, Emil.” The two old men held on to each other as Jacques exited the coach.

  Straightening, the captain sighed. “Let’s hope we won’t have to do that again.”

  “No, sir. I don’t believe we could.”

  Jacques’s eyes softened with deep affection for his old friend. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you, Emil?”

  Nodding, the old servant met his eyes. “And I you, my captain.” He saluted, his old hand trembling as it met his brow.

  “That’s good. There’s not enough love in this world. You have served me well both as a friend and a caretaker.”

  “I have tried my best, sir.”

  Emil took Jacques’s arm, and the two men inched their way up the cobblestone path. The journey left both men winded and trembling with exertion.

  Jacques slowly lifted his eyes to read the freshly-painted sign over the church door. The sign read “Heavenly Daze.” “Emil? You’ve misspelled the name.”

  Emil blinked. “I have, sir?”

  “No matter.” Jacques hesitantly released Emil’s arm. “I want to be on my knees.”

  Emil looked downright aghast at the suggestion. “Your knees, sir? What if—well, Captain, I don’t believe the Lord requires us to be on our knees.”

  “This particular request requires that I am, Emil. Now please help me.”

  Emil bit his lip. “I will do my best, Captain.” After a great effort from both men, Jacques found himself breathless and kneeling beside the steps of the clapboard church.

  Trying to catch his wind, Jacques patted the servant’s blue-veined hand. “Thank you. I’ll only be a moment.”

  Emil folded his hands behind his back. “Take your time, sir. I’ve nowhere else to go.”

  Jacques chuckled. “I am delighted that I can’t say the same.”

  Emil knelt at a respectful distance as Jacques bowed his head and murmured, “Please pray with me.”

  From his post outside the throne room of heaven, the angel Gavriel drew a deep breath. The wafting winds carried the rising prayers of the saints, and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to sort through the prayers that mingled like the myriad scents of a summer day. A smile crossed his face as he breathed in the sweet aroma of a child’s first prayer, followed immediately by the grateful words of the loving mother at the child’s bedside.

  Gavriel’s smile froze as the slightly bitter scent of a different prayer flooded his consciousness. The man who had offered it prayed for the destruction of his enemies, and anger had tinged his heart cry with emotions that had no place in heaven.

  Gavriel opened his eyes and shook the traces of bitterness from his mind. He was not to judge the prayers of men and women; the responsibility for hearing and answering lay firmly in the Lord’s hands. But when God chose to answer, he often dispatched an angelic messenger to aid the mortal petitioner, and Gavriel did not particularly want to grapple with a hard-hearted human.

  Rising from his place, he stood and stretched his wings, then strolled to the balcony from which a great host of witnesses, human and angelic, often watched the comings and goings of the still-mortal. Abraham and Jonah stood at the railing now, their faces shining with the distinctive golden glow that marked all humans who had moved through heaven in spirit form.

  “It’s an odd request,” Abraham was saying. A frown marked his dignified features. “I don’t think there’s any precedent for it.”

  “The Lord sent an entire army of angelic charioteers to surround Elisha’s house,” Jonah countered, bracing his arms on the railing as he peered earthward through
a hazy blanket of clouds. “Seven is not such a large request.”

  “It’s not the number; it’s the time involved,” Abraham protested. “Who can say how long they’ll be needed? When will it end?”

  “Time means nothing to the Lord.” Jonah’s face took on a distracted, inward look as he stared down at the swirling blue ocean beneath the clouds. “But the location— being surrounded by nothing but sea would make me nervous.” He looked up and grinned at Gavriel. “Once again, I’m glad I’m not an angel.”

  Gavriel lifted a brow. “And I’m glad I never had to spend the night in a big fish. But I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He leaned over the balcony to try and determine what the men had been watching, but he could see nothing on the revolving sphere below but an expanse of ocean dotted with tiny islands and rimmed by the North American continent.

  Behind him, Abraham chuckled, the sound low and deep in Gavriel’s ear. “You will see soon enough, my friend.”

  He had no sooner spoken than one of the cherubim appeared at Gavriel’s elbow. In less time than it would have taken to draw a mortal breath, the cherub had communicated a message: The Lord summons you.

  Without looking back, Gavriel directed his thoughts toward the throne and appeared there almost instantly. He stood with his hands clasped before him, his wings folded, his feet planted firmly on the gleaming golden floor of the holy chamber. Before him, the Lord’s lofty throne sat upon two pillars, each inscribed in seventy human tongues—the left with the word for righteousness, the right with the word for justice. Above the throne, a pair of the mighty seraphim hovered, their wings softly beating the crisp, cool air.

  I am sending you, Gavriel, to earth again.

  The voice flowed over Gavriel in a powerful wave, thrilling the angel’s soul as completely as it had when he had awakened from nothingness and found himself a servant of the most high God.

  Unbidden, Gavriel dropped to one knee. “Thank you, Father.”

  You will not be alone. In answer to a believer’s prayer I am sending seven of the host of heaven to a place called Heavenly Daze. My children there have asked for protection and blessing.