Harbor Shadows

By Raymond Mercer

Raised as a minister’s son, Landon Chandler grew up in a loving family, but he always dreamed there was more to life than the everyday experiences of growing up. While still in school a love interest led to a teen pregnancy and the persuasion to abort the unwanted child.
Turning his back on the challenges he faced, Landon pursued all that life could offer him. Leaving home Landon landed in Philips Harbor, Maine where he became an independent spirit. As an artist Landon was creative, independent and full of life. A surfing accident landed him in the hospital in a coma.
While in the coma he experienced a very unusual dream. In his dream he received a newspaper that told him everything that would happen in his world six months in advance. Armed with the false knowledge this special gift afforded him, Landon decided to flex his will on those close to him.
A close friend cared enough to intervene and change everything. A new love, caring family, marriage and life began to improve until he discovers the child he thought was aborted is alive and well.
From author Raymond Mercer comes the story of a family woven in a tapestry of life, of love, of suspense, and the power of forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond Mercer
• Release date: Apr 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301905454

Raymond Mercer

Raymond Mercer and his wife Barbara live in beautiful Muskoka, Ontario, Canada. They have two married sons who with their wives have blessed them with five amazing grandchildren. As a husband, father and grandfather Raymond is passionate about family and family values. Author Raymond Mercer is a graduate of the Christian Writers Guild.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

"Why should I acknowledge God? Dad is gone. We watched our father care for more people than physically possible. He filled our home with the down and outers giving them clothes and beds to sleep in. Where did it get him, broke?

Once mom passed away, he died of a broken heart. No thanks, this is not my road."

Landon, please, don’t leave with this bitterness, his sister Sylvia pleaded.

Sis, you have no idea how I feel in here. He placed his hand on his heart.

The hurt of being ignored since childhood, why, for
God. What about my dreams and aspirations? Has God allowed any to come to fruition, No? I carry a hurt in my chest that is tearing apart.

Can we talk?
Landon Chandler turned, shook his head, and walked out of the funeral home.

The airport intercom startled the young Chandler,
"This is the final call for flight 846 to Bangor, Maine."

The six-foot-one young man gripped his single leather bag, ran his fingers through his blonde hair and headed for the loading ramp. Lost in his own world, Landon Chandler was oblivious to other passengers boarding the flight.

His fingers, adept at artistic creations now fumbled in his pockets for the crumpled boarding pass and showed it to the attendant.

Walking down the boarding ramp his mind was a blur of emotions. Entering the cabin the flight attendant smiled and checked his seating.

Welcome aboard, your seat is row 12, window.

Thanks. His fingers trembled. The last few hours at the funeral had fueled his anger more than ever. A second flight attendant saw Landon approach. She moved to assist him with his location. His leather bag was placed in the overhead compartment. Row 12 was empty; he sat down against the window and began to adjust the seat belt. Landon yanked at the belts tightness, turned his head, and stared out the plane window.

Shifting in his seat he searched his pockets for a small pillbox. Thankful for the pills; maybe they would calm the anxiety inside his numbed head. These past few days were the demise of his past and the inauguration of life after paternal influence.

The flight magazine in the seat pocket caught his attention. This would prevent anyone invading his privacy.

The Flight attendant worked her way up the aisle checking seat belts. Landon turned. Her smile captivated the young man’s attention. The intercom crackled.

We have received clearance for takeoff. Please ensure seat belts are fastened and your seat-backs are in an upright position. The pilot’s announcement broke the mental fog.

The big plane accelerated and he grasped the armrest.

I hate flying. The man beside him did not respond. The G- force paralyzed his body. Soon they were airborne.

Landon’s mind began to accelerate the memories of the past.

A pastor’s son, abandoned at fourteen, the love affair, teenage abortion, and broken dreams.

A tapestry of a life chiseled with anger and confusion flooded the screen of his mind.

The flight attendant began the passenger’s drink order aboard the flight. Her smile and demeanor would turn heads in any setting. His mind was veiled by the thoughts of the past few days. He had made this flight many times over the past few months, returning to visit with his ailing father and pay his respect at his mother’s grave. This trip to Atlanta was different than all the previous flights. Simon’s death now meant for Landon it would probably be his last.

He stared out the window of the DC 3 into the void of predawn darkness. Memories deepened the pain and frustration he

felt.
Sir, may I get you something to drink?
Yes, ginger ale please. The momentary interruption by the

flight attendant snapped him back to reality. It had only been fourteen months since he had returned to Atlanta to bury his mom; now it was Dad.

Landon had absorbed the condolences and remembrance of being a preachers kid. He hated the forced role he played trying to reflect a goodie-two-shoes. Now with the family patriarch gone, he would live his life anyway he wanted.

The drone of the plane’s engines only added to the dryness in his heart. He winced as he recalled his sister’s words to him before he left Dad’s funeral,

"Landon, in all your ways acknowledge God, and he will direct your path." It angered him.

Are you okay? the man sitting beside him asked. Landon turned to respond.

Throughout the flight the man had been virtually invisible. He had too much on his mind for petty conversations. The name is Barry Cummings, He reached out his hand. Landon Chandler.

Barry attempted to engage the non-amiable passenger beside him.

Traveling on business?

Landon turned and stared straight into his eyes,
No, I’m returning from a family funeral.
Barry shook his head, I’m sorry.
Landon turned and stared at the blackness out the plane window. He saw Barry’s reflection in the window staring at him. Landon turned his head.

How about you?
I am just returning from visiting a client in Atlanta.

Sales? Landon asked amiably.

I’m a consulting Engineer.


The big plane shuddered. Landon grasped the hand rest, and straightened his back. Barry grasped the drink he had just poured trying desperately not to spill the contents. He turned towards Landon, That was a white knuckle looking at your grip on the armrests.

Landon frowned and turned to face his seat neighbor,

I don’t know about you, but I just don’t want to attend another funeral, especially my own.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms while his mind raced back to the funeral. Sylvia, his older sister, seemed to have held her emotions more in check then he did. Greeting the guests, receiving their condolences. She was older, when Mom and Dad left home and sent him away. Sylvia did not understand all he had been through.

The plane shuddered a second time. He turned nervously and peered out the window. A few moments passed before he turned to Barry. I think this is the pilot’s first flight.

Barry laughed out loud. No, the pilot has gone to the rest room. Our flight attendant is in charge.

The intercom system crackled and a deep male voice announced, "We will be landing at Bangor Airport in just a few minutes. Please ensure your seat belts are fastened and your chair backs are in an upright position for a safe landing. Please enjoy your day and thank you for flying Northeast Airlines."

The big plane approached the runway and bounced slightly while the thrusters engaged, bringing the plane to a crawl. The plane turned on the tarmac and taxied to the terminal gate.

The passengers of flight 846 gathered their personal luggage and began disembarking. Landon nodded to the flight staff as he stepped onto the loading ramp. A short walk later and the doors to the arrival area opened into the waiting lounge.

Bob Fuller, a family friend for the past ten years, who traveled from Philips Harbor was waiting just inside the arrival area. Landon spotted Bob standing against the rail. He sat his luggage down and they embraced.

Welcome home friend, good flight? Bob’s distinctive bass voice resonated when he spoke.

It was fine. Landon pointedly responded.

Bob took Landon’s suitcase and headed for the door.

The cool early morning wind caught Landon unawares, and he pulled up the zipper on his jacket.

Arriving at the car, Landon climbed into the front passenger seat. Bob started the vehicle and turned to face his friend. Much turbulence on the flight?

Almost as much as at the funeral,

As they exited on the airport road the car passed the front of the terminal. The wind whirled around the airport buildings. Bob steered the vehicle down the highway towards their home in Philips Harbor.

Landon stared out the side window lost in a fog of melancholy. He brushed the hair from his face.

The windshield reflected the cold on the outside.

Winter came early in Maine and this year seemed earlier than most. Bob looked over at his friend. Their eyes met. Bob pinched his lips and smiled.

Landon, my heart was at the funeral with you. Emily Marie’s operation came at an awkward time. Landon momentarily looked away trying to bring his emotions into check.
He then returned his attention to the driver.

"How is Mrs. Em?

Bob turned and smiled, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. She is doing just fine. I left her at home to rest.

Landon nodded and returned to staring out the side window. The stoplight turned red. Bob slowed the car and placed his wrist on top of the steering wheel. He revved the engine slightly and rubbed his eyes again with the base of his palms.

As they waited for the signal to change, Bob turned to his friend. Funerals are never pleasant, especially when it’s your last parent. He paused waiting for a response. Landon did not acknowledge Bob’s comment. He continued staring into the darkness that enveloped the automobile. The light turned green.

Your father was a terrific man, Landon.

Landon stared at his friend, then turned to stare back out the side window of the car. Bob searched for the right words to console his best friend.

I don’t need to tell you, but your father was a very special friend to me.

Where did you first meet Dad?

"I first met your Dad in 1963, when we were both attending College in Wheaton, Illinois. Even though the age difference, your Dad and I were very close.

Simon Chandler to me was a mentor, and my spiritual advisor. Our close friendship started when Simon and I were in our first year. I looked up to your Dad, he was older, taller and had experience in business and by the vehicles he drove, appeared to be doing just fine.

If Bible school was going to improve Simon Chandler at his age, that’s good enough for young Bob Fuller. As our friendship grew, we enjoyed taking time to study God’s word together. It was either sitting quietly at our favorite spot underneath the oak tree, or at our favorite eating spot, Spicy Pizza."

Landon smiled, Dad loved pizza.

It was with your dad at lunch one day when I first heard the name Emily Marie. Emily Marie Beckett in your Dad’s words was a sweetheart of a girl, definitely worth me pursuing. Oh, I had definitely noticed the five-foot-four blond who sat close to me in many of the lectures. At times when our eyes met I was sure she smiled.

Landon looked over and nodded. Mrs. Em is quite a lady."

Your father was quite a man–.


I don’t see my father quite in the way you do. Landon began to raise his voice.
To me my father wasted most of my inheritance chasing his dumb religious endeavors. If it wasn’t poured into the church, he gave it to free loaders who hung on him for every cent.

He turned for a moment and stared out the side window, then continued,

How would you feel if everything your parents owned was given away to people who didn’t even try to support themselves? My father owned a very successful business that he just threw away. Why? To give it to people he cared about. Oh yes, but not his family. They watched it dribble away.

Bob kept his eyes on the road, but he knew he had to divert the caustic barrage. There was still a thirty-minute trip before they reached Philips Harbor and home.

Did you eat on the plane? Bob slowed the vehicle and turned towards his friend. Landon smiled for the first time,

I did, but you know plane meals, diet food.

Settled, Bob responded.
We’ll have an early lunch at Angelo’s when we reach town.

Landon nodded in agreement. A feeling of foreboding haunted him. Little did he know what lay ahead?

CHAPTER 2

THE EARLY YEARS

Home for the Chandlers was the beautiful North Carolina town of Asheboro, established in 1796. Asheboro was a town with a lot of history that included the pain of the Civil War. Simon Chandler, as a youth, worked through the summer heat in the hosiery mills. He loved sports. Like many young men in this era, he fell in love, married, and brought his young bride Ilene back here to Asheboro.

Ilene Chandler had grown up in a home that faithfully attended church. Simon, a big man at 6’-3, did not like church and would only go to please his young bride. As a young couple, they struggled financially with Simon eventually establishing his own business. He was a good man and was lovingly referred to by his friends as the Gentle Giant." Simon was comfortable with Ilene attending church, and often times drove her there. He struggled with his faith. He would sometimes attend special events but never put church first in his life. Ilene always took the position to live the life by example, encourage where she could, and leave the rest up to prayer.

For years, the young couple wanted a family. The doctors eventually told Ilene Chandler that she would never bear children.

The heartache and pain of not being the entire woman she should be tore at the very essence of her womanhood. Simon would always assure her that his love was not conditional on children, although they would be nice.

Many nights she would cry herself to sleep; crying from the depths of her soul for her desire to become a mother.

She had tried fertility clinics, but her hormones were so out of balance that her monthly time clock needed major adjustment. Her doctor told her she would never complete a pregnancy cycle without miscarrying.

It is unclear whether it was Simon or Ilene that first introduced the possibility of adoption, but both were open to the idea. In fact, it became a regular discussion between them generally over dinner. Ilene began to make inquires.

One Sunday morning at church, Avery Brundell, the church secretary, approached Ilene.

Hi, good morning Mrs. Chandler. What a beautiful Sunday morning.

Yes, it is beautiful.

You were inquiring about the possibility of adopting?

"Yes I was. Ilene expectantly responded.

Well I’m not sure you know Mr. Alan Douglas? Alan ushers sometimes on the left side, but he is an attorney. I know he has helped some folks with adoptions. I can give you his office number if you would like to contact him.

Ilene opened her purse and searched for a pen and something to write on.

Oh, my purse has way too much inventory. Both women smiled. Avery quoted the number while Ilene wrote.

Thank you Avery. Simon and I will call him. Have a good morning.

Ilene began to seriously make it a matter of prayer. She desired to share those prayers with Simon, but he wasn’t quite there.

Simon was a good man, kind and considerate, but at this point, church was not in his future plans.

He was always cognizant of Ilene’s priorities. Ilene discussed Mr. Douglas with Simon.

Simon, is it okay with you if I call Mr. Douglas?


Simon smiled.
Sounds like fun to me.


Honey, are you sure? It is a big commitment.

Sweetheart it doesn’t hurt to explore. Ilene nodded.


On Monday Ilene dialed the attorney’s office. Her heartbeat accelerated, waiting while the rings continued.

Good morning, Douglas and Stearns Law Office, Maddison speaking.

Hi Maddison, this is Ilene Chandler. Could I speak with Mr. Douglas?

Yes, one moment please.

Good morning, hi Mrs. Chandler this is Alan Douglas. How may I be of help?

"We attend the Cherry Hill Community Church."

How nice, my wife Barbara and I do as well.


Yes. I spoke with Avery Brundell, pastor’s secretary, and she gave me your number. My husband Simon and I would like to talk with you about an adoption, and we wondered if we could meet? Ilene was nervous and excited and ran her words all in together.

Yes, let me see here, how about Thursday at two?


Thank you Mr. Douglas, Simon and I will be there at two.

Ilene, do you know where our office is located?

Yes, we do.

Great, look forward to seeing you both.


Ilene busied herself all week, anxious for Thursday to come.

Thursday was a spectacular day. The temperature was just perfect.

The meeting was cordial with Alan explaining the challenges of adoption. They filled out the paperwork, and now it was in God’s hands.

Ilene pasted her favorite scripture from Proverbs 3:6 on their fridge as a constant reminder to her, Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

Desperately, she wanted to trust God’s direction in this adoption.

There was no response for three weeks. The suspense was killing both of them.

Each Sunday Ilene would casually search the pews looking for the attorney hoping to catch his eye.

Ilene you must relax. We just can’t keep pressuring the man, Simon cautioned.

Simon, can you imagine a little one running and laughing around our home? The thought definitely brought a smile to Simon’s face.

Honey, if you believe, and for whatever reason we cannot conceive our own child, then we will get that call. He looked over and winked.

That call came four weeks after their meeting.
Hi, Ilene, this is Alan Douglas. How are you doing?


Mr. Douglas, very well, how about you?


Wonderful. Please call me Alan. How is Simon?


He is just fine, would you like to talk with him?


First, I would like to talk with you. I wonder if it would be possible for you and Simon to come again to my office. She gripped the phone with both hands.

Yes, when? She looked at Simon, and punched the air. Would Friday at two-thirty be okay?


Mr. Douglas, Alan, we will be there, he laughed.

Great see you Friday at two-thirty.

She turned towards Simon. "Sweetheart, we have an appointment Friday at two-thirty. When she hung up the receiver, you would think that Ilene Chandler had just won the lottery. She danced her winning dance. Simon grabbed her, they embraced, and she stared up at her love of eight years. With tears streaming down her face, they kissed and held each other close.

Friday was only three days away, but Ilene’s heart was bursting with excitement. Is it possible?

We will have to wait and see.

O honey, this is as much fun as having the baby ourselves, Ilene chided.

Now wait, Simon smiled, I have another opinion on that. They both laughed like children on Christmas morning.

The day finally arrived.
Simon, should I put on my Sunday go-to-meeting-dress?

Ilene, you wear whatever you desire.

Alan Douglas was a tall man with a short-cropped mustache and graying sideburns. He was dressed impeccably in a dark charcoal striped suit and he spoke in a deep bass voice. His gentle face belied the tough skin he developed as a prosecuting attorney. He stood to greet the Chandlers.

Hi Simon, I’m Alan Douglas. They shook hands. Hi Ilene, please have a seat. He sat down in his leather chair, removed his glasses, and sat them on the desk. He then leaned back in his chair.

I’m so glad you came. Ilene we never know what God has in store for us. We have had a very unusual situation occur.

He turned for a moment and stared out the office window. He seemed emotional searching for the right words. Even though it was only seconds, to Ilene it seemed an eternity.

I don’t know if you have been following the news, but our firm prosecuted a Mr. James Devlin from Greensboro for the murder of his wife.

Ilene frowned and looked at Simon who was nodding. I did see that in the paper. Moments passed as Allan spun his pen on the desk surface. He spoke again.

"The Devlin’s had twin girls, beautiful kids. They are presently fourteen months old.

A request has been processed for one of the girls, by someone outside the state. I had hoped the girls would have been kept together, but the authorities felt because of their young age that separating the girls would be fine.

I thought about you for the other child. From all we can understand, this family was a typical American family. The girls are very healthy. They may carry some slight trauma.

Their father had lost his job, and the pressures of life got to him." He stroked his chin and spun his glasses by one ear.

Tough times for everyone, Ilene said.

He nodded. I have met with these kids, and they are both darling little girls. You can understand; they were both too young.

Ilene fidgeted with her handbag handle. Periodically, she would look over at her husband. Ilene looked at the attorney. Is there any chance we could meet this child?

Yes, I was hoping you could. He smiled. I made plans to take you to the agency’s location where she is currently staying.

Simon looked lovingly at Ilene, I think that would be nice. Ilene nodded approvingly.

Wonderful, do you have the time now if I make the arrangements?

Ilene looked over at Simon who nodded approval.


Let me make a call.


The Social Services center was not far from the law office.

Alan led the way, up the concrete steps. The director was waiting. Hi Mrs. Rogers, this is Mr. and Mrs. Chandler. Mrs. Rogers is the Administrative director of the center.

Hi nice to meet you both,