Free From Ashes to Honor by Loree Lough Page A

praying as he went that the Almighty would continue watching over his friend and neighbor. Because if Bud's hospitalization and recuperation had turned the normally resilient Flora into a woman who trembled and wept every time Bud got out of earshot, what would losing him do to her?
    He'd barely settled into his favorite sling-backed chair when the older man's white-haired head poked through the doorway.
    "Did you add a couple of rungs to that ladder?"
    "You ask the same question every time you come up here," Austin said, laughing.
    "Well, it sure seems like a longer walk between visits." He grabbed the Thermos. "Say . . . did you hear that night heron earlier?"
    Austin watched the steam rise as Bud filled his mug. "Yeah, weird, isn't it, hearing one way over here?"
    Bud grunted slightly as he lowered his bulk into a chair that matched Austin's. "Well, the mouth of the bay ain't all that far away, I s'pose." He pursed his lips. "And it is about time for the fledglings to leave Fisherman's Island."
    During the years their boats had been docked side by side, Austin and Bud must have shared hundreds of mugs of coffee while discussing the Orioles' lousy coaching staff and the Ravens' latest draft pick. Taxes, the threat of a rent hike at the marina, and of course, the weather dominated their conversations, but they'd never talked in the middle of the night before.
    Bud blew across the surface of his coffee, then took a loud slurp. On the heels of a long, satisfied sigh, he said, "Now, that's what I call good java." Then he frowned. "Hard day, son?"
    At first, the term of endearment had rattled Austin. Lately, he'd come to like being part of Bud and Flora's family, even if only in a surrogate way. "No harder than most."
    "Bad dreams keepin' you up again, huh?"
    He saw no point in saddling the old guy with the gory details. He'd done that once, years ago, after coming home from a bachelor party with a few too many beers in his belly. Even half-toasted, he'd seen how upset he'd made the Callahans, and it bugged him just enough to vow never again to utter a syllable about the terror attacks.
    "Well," Bud said in the ensuing silence, "no surprise, there.We're comin' up on another anniversary here soon. All that stuff on the TV news and in the papers? Shoo-eee. No wonder it's front and center in your brain."
    Austin only nodded. Hard to believe it had been nearly nine years since—
    "Talked to Eddy's widow lately?"
    "She left a message while I was out tonight." Later, he'd listen to it. It always took a day or two to screw up the courage to call her back.
    The non-answer hung between them like a new-spun spider web. "So," he said, "has Flora developed allergies or something? It's too early for her hay fever to kick in. And from what you've said, it does seem that her snoring has gotten a whole lot worse these past few months."
    "Dragged the old girl to the doctor day before yesterday. He said more than likely, it isn't pollen or any of the usual suspects.That quack. Fat lot he knows." Bud waved a hand in the air. "At least the fool helped me make an appointment with a specialist for day after tomorrow. Not a minute too soon, if you ask me, 'cause I can't imagine she's getting much more sleep than I am."
    Austin sipped his coffee, waiting for the qualifier that would follow Bud's remark.
    "If it reminds me of a locomotive, pulling into the station, imagine what it sounds like inside her head!"
    Austin laughed under his breath. But his smile faded when he remembered how his mom had snored deeper and louder as her final days drew nearer. About the only peace the poor woman got came from listening to CDs of a favorite old radio show, The Bickersons. He'd heard some of the episodes so many times he'd memorized a lot of the dialog. Bud and Flora often reminded him of the battling comic duo, but despite the Callahans' salty relationship, he knew each would be a living, breathing mess without the other.
    "Doc said if the allergist doesn't find