Whale Song: A Novel

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  “Sarah!” he shouted in a hoarse voice, his blue eyes piercing me where I stood.

  Uttering a cry of horror, I raced from the hospital room and ran down the hallway. I twisted down one corridor and turned down the next until I was lost. I had no idea where I was going. I just needed to escape. Run, Sarah!

  I collided into a familiar body.

  “Hai Nai Yu, what’s wrong?”

  I looked into Nana’s eyes, silently pleading for help. Then a merciful darkness encompassed me and I felt myself plunging into its shadowy embrace. Take me away…

  Sarah!

  I heard my mother whispering to me and felt her lips caress my forehead. I smiled. Then I cautiously opened my eyes. There was no sign of her. The room I was in wasn’t familiar either. I looked around and realized that I was in the hospital, lying in one of the beds.

  That confused me. I wasn’t the one who was sick.

  Nana sat in a nearby chair.

  “Hai Nai Yu?”

  Her gaze was intense and she frowned when she touched my forehead. “You’re too warm.”

  “Nana, what happened? Why am I here?”

  She muttered something under her breath. “Do you not remember, child?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your mother has gone to the Great Spirit. She’s on her way home.”

  I shook my head in denial and clamped my eyes shut. But the truth hit me with the finality of a door slamming shut.

  My mother was dead.

  “What happened in her room?” Nana rasped.

  I shook my head, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Did your father―?” She broke off as footsteps approached.

  The door opened abruptly and my grandparents rushed into the room, their faces fearful and pale.

  “Sarah!” Nonna Sofia cried. “Are you okay?”

  Nana stood slowly, nodded to my grandparents and slipped from the room. Nonno Rocco moved closer to my bed. His beard was thick and white, and it looked as if he had slept in his clothes.

  “What happened?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know.”

  I recalled being in my mother’s hospital room and then…nothing. Until I woke up.

  Nonna Sofia shook her head sadly. “We just want to know why your father did what he did. We know it had to have been an accident, even though the police are questioning him.”

  “The p-police?” I stammered. “What do you mean? What did he do?”

  My grandparents exchanged anxious looks.

  I tried to force myself to remember, but everything was so hazy. The only thing I understood with absolute certainty was that my mother was gone. I would never see or talk to her again.

  “I want my dad!” I wailed.

  Nonno Rocco enveloped me in his arms and I smelled the comforting scent of his cologne.

  “Your papa…” he said slowly. “He cannot come here now. He has to…explain what happened.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be here later,” Nonna Sofia added.

  My grandfather shot her a warning look.

  “Well, he will,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

  I slept for the remainder of the afternoon. At some point during the day, my subconscious collected and stored precious tidbits of information. My grandparents and Nana must have been talking while I slept.

  “They’re calling it a suicide.”

  “The police…murder.”

  “Jack might go to prison.”

  My father had been found beside my mother, holding her lifeless hands in his. He had disobeyed the doctor’s orders and had shut down all the monitors and shoved them against the wall. When the alarms rang, a crash cart was pushed into the room and attempts were made to revive my mother. But they were too late to save her.

  Dr. Michaels had no choice but to call security and have my father quarantined. When the police arrived, they escorted him out of the hospital and questioned him relentlessly for over an hour.

  “They even searched him,” Nonno Rocco said as I drifted in and out of sleep. “The police wouldn’t let anyone into Daniella’s room after they pronounced her dead―not even the doctors. They’re taking her to the Coroner’s Office. My bella figlia!”

  Through a haze of half-sleep, I heard Nonna Sofia. “Rocco, our beautiful carina is gone to the angels. What has Jack done?”

  Her keening wail broke my heart.

  Merciful sleep rescued me from hearing anything more.

  Dr. Michaels came to see me after supper.

  “You have hysterical amnesia, Sarah,” she said. “It’s common after a traumatic event like…this. But luckily it’s only partial amnesia.”

  She was right about that. I remembered everything before she left my mother’s room and everything since waking up in the hospital. But I was missing a section of time in between.

  Dr. Michaels told my grandparents and Nana that I had to remain in the hospital overnight and that she would locate someone near Bamfield to help me regain my memory.

  “Sarah’s memory will return,” Nana said, nodding. “It’ll return on its own when she is good and ready to remember.”

  The following afternoon, an attendant wheeled me down the hall in a squeaky wheelchair. He pushed me to an awaiting taxi where my grandparents and Nana were exchanging a few words.

  “I’m going home now,” Nana said, kissing me goodbye.

  My grandparents and I took the taxi to a motel.

  “We have to go to the police station tomorrow morning,” my grandfather said as he tucked me into bed.

  I was surprised and a bit scared. “Why?”

  “They want to talk to you, ask you a few questions.”

  “I’m tired,” I mumbled, not wanting to think about it.

  Snuggling into the crisp sheets, I fell into an exhausted sleep while my grandparents hovered over me, muttering in Italian.

  The Victoria Police Department buzzed with activity and everything gleamed with power―especially the gray marble floor. Officers in immaculate uniforms busied themselves with various tasks. Phones rang persistently, fax machines faxed and two young men were escorted past us in handcuffs.

  My eyes flitted over them in fear and I wondered if my father was locked up in a jail cell packed with vicious killers―like I’d seen on TV. I followed my grandparents, my shoes tapping noisily across the floor.

  At the information desk, Nonno Rocco spoke to a detective.

  “We’re here to see our son-in-law Jack Richardson,” he said. “After we talk to Sgt. Washinski.”

  “I’ll take you to him,” the gruff-looking detective said in a thick French accent. “Follow me, please.”

  He directed us to an interrogation room, motioned us inside and returned to his duties, leaving the door ajar. The small room was harshly lit with glaring fluorescent lights. Four rickety chairs and an old metal table were the only objects in the room that was barely eight by eight feet wide. The carpets were threadbare and stained with numerous suspicious-looking marks. The pallid blue paint on the pitted concrete walls flaked like badly sunburned skin and the air smelled like musty mould and stale cigarettes.

  A tall, thin detective with pale blue eyes entered the room. He had a long, bushy brown mustache that curled up at the ends. His uniform was spotless and intimidating, especially to a girl my age.

  “My name is Sergeant Washinski,” he said with a smile.

  He dragged a chair across the floor. Sliding into it, he casually folded his arms over his chest, stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles.

  “You must be Sarah,” he said in a friendly manner. “Have a seat.” He indicated the chair directly across from him.

  I glanced at Nonno Rocco and Nonna Sophia. When my grandfather nodded, I sat down.

  Sgt. Washinski’s eyes sought mine. “Sarah, I know this is difficult, but I need to know exactly what happened in your mother’s hospital room, what you saw. Okay?”

  “Okay, but―” My voice caught in my
throat, as if a noose were slowly tightening around my neck, strangling the air from my lungs.

  The detective uncrossed his arms, reached over and turned on a small tape recorder. “Can you please tell me your full name?”

  “S-Sarah Maria R-Richardson,” I stammered.

  He picked up a pen and notebook. “And your mother was in Bamfield General because…?”

  “She was sick. She has―had―a problem with her heart.”

  “What happened yesterday?”

  I closed my eyes. “Mom was in a coma…”

  “Were your grandparents with you, in your mom’s hospital room?”

  I nodded and opened my eyes.

  He smiled. “You’re doing just fine, Sarah. But I need you to answer out loud. Okay?” He made a few marks in his book. “Who was in the room with you?”

  “Just me and my dad, I think.”

  “Did your dad do anything―to the machines, I mean?”

  My head snapped up. I flicked a panicked look in my grandparents’ direction. They looked miserable and Nonna Sofia’s eyes were filled with tears.

  “I, uh…” I said slowly. “I don’t remember.”

  “Where was your dad standing?”

  A sense of dread overwhelmed me and I looked up at the detective. “I don’t know.”

  “What was he doing by your mom’s bed?”

  “I never said he was by her bed,” I said, frustrated.

  He pursed his lips. “Where was he then?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered. “I don’t remember.”

  Nonno Rocco pursed his lips in anger. “Sgt. Washinski―”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Rossetti,” the detective said, waving a hand in the air. “But I have a few more questions.” He stared at me compassionately. “Sarah, can you tell me what your dad did first? Did he turn off the respirator―the machine that helped your mother breathe? Or did he turn off the heart monitor?”

  His questions made me furious.

  “I don’t know,” I snapped, rising to my feet. “I told you. I don’t remember anything.”

  My grandfather was at my side immediately. “We’re done,” he said through clenched teeth. “Sarah doesn’t remember. She has amnesia. Ask her doctor.”

  Nonna Sofia pulled me protectively to one side of the room and murmured soothing words. I heard an odd ringing in my ears and for a moment, I thought I was going to pass out.

  Sgt. Washinski turned off the tape recorder and set down his notebook. “I apologize, Mr. Rossetti,” he said. “But Sarah is an eye witness and I had to question her.” He walked to the door, paused and glanced over at me. “I’m very sorry about your mom. And I’m sorry I had to ask all those questions. I’ll get your dad. You can visit for a few minutes.” He disappeared into the hall.

  My grandparents and I waited in complete silence. I had a booming headache and I massaged my temple, praying that we’d be able to leave soon.

  The door opened and my father entered, thankfully unshackled. He was slightly disoriented, his clothes were wrinkled and his unshaven face was haggard. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” he said as he hugged me.

  His grip suffocated me and I squirmed until he reluctantly released me. Then I flopped into a chair and scowled at him.

  “When are you getting out of here? I want to go home.”

  “Soon, Sarah,” he said. “They aren’t sure if they’re laying any charges, so I just have to wait.” He threw my grandfather an uneasy look. “It could take a few more hours.”

  I wanted to go home with my father, home to the safety of our house on the bay. But I was terrified of going home without my mother.

  “Sarah, I have something important to ask you,” my father said seriously. “Do you remember anything about what happened in Mom’s room?”

  I turned away. “No. Not really.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Jack, we’ve asked her already,” Nonna Sofia said. “The doctor says she has hysterical amnesia. She doesn’t remember a thing.”

  My father sank into a chair. “Well, then they won’t ask her to testify.” He let out a relieved breath.

  “You really think this’ll go to court?” my grandfather asked gravely. “And they want to charge you with―”

  “Rocco,” my father warned, shaking his head. He eyed Nonna Sofia. “I want you to take Sarah home, back to Bamfield. I should be out of here in a couple of hours. They can’t hold me much longer without charging me. Can you stay with her until I get back?”

  “Of course we’ll stay with Sarah,” she huffed.

  “Thank you. Both of you.”

  Nonna Sofia stared at my father. In a voice filled with emotion, she said, “Don’t you worry, Jack. We’ll look after Sarah ‘til you come home.”

  The door opened and a police officer obstructed the doorway.

  “I love you, Sarah,” my father said as he was led away. “I’ll be home tonight, I promise.”

  Nonna Sofia tried unsuccessfully to console me on the ride home while Nonno Rocco drove slowly along the gravel road, swerving around potholes. None of us felt like talking or eating, and the journey home seemed to take forever.

  I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and recalled the first time I had made the trip to Bamfield. My parents and I had been so excited about our new life. I thought of my mother’s laugh, her touch, her smell. I remembered seeing the ocean for the first time and being so excited. Now I realized it was only water.

  My father’s face swirled before me. What have you done, Dad?

  As I stared out the car window at the passing scenery, I wondered why the two people I loved and needed the most had been taken away from me.

  I was abandoned.

  Lost.

  fifteen

  In Bamfield, a heavy downpour of rain and murky gray clouds spitefully greeted us. The weather seemed appropriate, considering our miserable mood. We drove up the driveway to the house, but it was devoid of life―deserted and silent.

  I ran inside and gazed around the living room. The plants were parched and withered, but I ignored them. On a small table was a photograph of my mother―healthy, happy and beautiful.

  I stared at her and breathed in deeply.

  My mother’s spirit was everywhere. I saw her all around me. She was in everything―her painting over the wood stove, her coffee mug on the table and the blue scarf on the chair back. Her perfume still lingered in the air, teasing me.

  Upstairs, I unpacked my suitcase and tossed my clothes into a drawer. After a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed the phone in the hallway and dialed Goldie’s number.

  No one answered.

  Doesn’t Goldie know I need her?

  Wandering back to my room, I curled up in the window seat and watched the storm wreak its vengeance. Depressed and lonely, my heart ached.

  I grabbed a book from a shelf and attempted to read it, but insidious thoughts kept invading my mind. After a half-hour, I gave up and wandered down the hall. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, someone called my name.

  I was shocked.

  The entire Dixon family was waiting for me with open arms, their eyes full of concern. Goldie’s parents hugged me, and little Shonda gave me a sticky kiss on the cheek. Then Goldie rushed over and wrapped her arms around me, her face streaked with tears.

  “I’m sorry about your Mom,” she whispered.

  Nonna Sofia ushered the Dixons into the dining room and I started to follow them, but Nana pulled me aside.

  “Your mama’s gone to the Great Spirit,” she said. “But we will remember her, Hai Nai Yu. We’ll have a special ceremony on the beach―to remember her spirit.”

  They stayed until suppertime, sharing quiet stories and memories of my mother. I knew that if she were watching us she’d be very happy. After all, Goldie’s family was part of ours―we were all connected.

  When they left, I helped Nonna Sofia make a light supper of chicke
n and salad. Just as we were about to eat, we heard a car horn. I ran to the kitchen window and saw a taxi drive up on the cement pad. My father got out, looking haggard and worn.

  “Dad’s home!” I shouted.

  The door slammed and my father rounded the corner and swept me into his arms. He hugged me so tightly I thought he would never let me go.

  “I missed you so much,” he said.

  “There’s going to be a special service on the beach by the Dixon’s house later tonight,” Nonna Sofia said softly. “They want to honor our Daniella. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  My father bowed his head, choking back his emotions. “It’s perfect. Daniella would have loved that.”

  After supper, the adults argued about funeral arrangements for my mother. Nonno Rocco was adamant that my mother should have a proper burial and Nonna Sofia wanted a church service. No one asked me what I wanted. So I watched and listened, wanting only for my mother to return to me―alive.

  “We’ll have to have a proper Catholic funeral,” Nonno Rocco said grimly. “And a burial in a Catholic cemet―”

  “Actually, Rocco,” my father interrupted. “Daniella didn’t want anything formal. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes thrown into the ocean.

  Nonno Rocco’s eyes narrowed. “What is this nonsense?”

  “Daniella wrote down her wishes. Before she ended up back in the hospital. I’ll show you.”

  My father left the room for a moment, returning a few seconds later with a folded piece of paper. He passed it to my grandparents.

  “Rocco,” my grandmother said. “It’s like Jack says. We have to do what our carina wanted.”

  “Maybe Skip could take us out on the Finland Fancy,” I said.

  My father smiled. “That’s a great idea, Sarah. And we’ll look for some killer whales―”

  My grandmother gasped. “What, you’re going to feed Daniella to the whales? What are you thinking, Jack?”

  “She loved the whales.” He looked at me. “Right, Sarah?”

  I stared out the window, watching waves crash upon the beach. “Mom always said she’d come back as a whale.”

  Finally, everyone was in agreement. My mother’s ashes would be spread out over the ocean amidst a pod of whales.