by Eric Walters
“He looks good,” my grandfather said.
“I guess we’ll soon find out. I wish there was something else we could do.”
“You’ve done your part to keep him alive. It’s up to the tide to do the rest.”
As the tide got higher, the members of the pod got closer. For the past few minutes they’d been calling out almost continually. Oreo was answering back.
“It won’t be much longer, will it?” I asked.
“Less than fifteen minutes, I’d say,” replied my grandfather. “Each wave is washing up higher.”
He was right. It was more than just waves washing over Oreo now. Some water remained after the waves went back out.
“I just need you to be prepared for whatever happens,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“We did everything we could. You did everything you could. You gave him a chance.”
“More than a chance! We kept him covered and wet and cool the way we were supposed to.”
“Yes, but whales are meant to float, not to be lying down on a hard surface. All that weight pressing down on the organs could have caused internal damage to the lungs or heart.”
“He was breathing fine.”
“And we can’t tell how badly he’s cut up on his belly. Those rocks are sharp. I just hope he doesn’t try to escape before the water is high enough for him to swim free. That could lead to more damage.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but there really was nothing else we could do. If only I could tell him to wait—not that it would do any good. Oreo was being moved sideways by the waves now. His tail was going up and down, and it looked like he was moving slightly forward. Suddenly a gigantic wave crashed down, and Oreo popped off the rocks!
“Look at him go!” I yelled.
Oreo skimmed across the surface, heading out into the open ocean. Just the very tip of his dorsal fin was visible, and then he disappeared beneath the waves. He was heading straight toward the pod.
“There he is!” my grandfather called. “Do you see him?”
Many dorsal fins were visible, but I couldn’t tell if one of them was Oreo’s. Then I saw it—the one with the little notch. There he was!
“He’s okay,” my grandfather said.
“He’s better than okay. He’s with his family, and he’s there because of us.”
“He’s there because of you.”
“We both worked.”
“You did more, but the work only mattered because you gave him a chance,” my grandfather said. “He’s back with his family because of you.”
I let my grandfather’s words sink in. I had given Oreo the chance. I had convinced my grandfather. And now Oreo was back with his family.
We stood there in silence and watched the whales. My grandfather reached out and placed an arm around my shoulders. I had to fight the urge to pull away. That had always been my first reaction. But this time I didn’t. The weight of his arm felt warm and good and reassuring. Maybe I’d given myself a chance to be with family too.
Chapter Fourteen
“We better get going,” my grandfather said.
“Let me just finish this up and sign off.”
“Sometimes I regret getting this whole thing started.”
I looked up from the computer. “You mean me?”
He snorted. “You’re too smart to say something that stupid, Dylan.”
I had to laugh. That was so like my grandfather—saying something nice but hiding it inside of something cranky so he didn’t sound nice.
“What I mean is the whole computer, internet, cable TV, satellite thing,” he said.
“Oh no, that’s no mistake,” I said. “It may have been the smartest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life.”
I could have sworn I saw a small smile on my grandfather’s face. Just for a second.
He had arranged a satellite connection to the world. Now we had internet. We had email. We could use the phone!
I’d been shocked when he first suggested it. He’d claimed it was to help him with “business,” but I knew that wasn’t the reason. He was doing it for me. It had taken almost two weeks for them get it installed out here, but life had been much more interesting over the ten days since then.
I got up and we headed for the dock. The path down was now a lot easier to manage. I’d smoothed out some bumps, removed some rocks and built a couple of little steps where they were needed. That was how I spent my days. My grandfather painted and I puttered—at least, when I wasn’t on the computer or in the kayak.
“Do you think they’ll be on time?”
“Captain Ken is pretty reliable that way.”
We got to the dock. The two kayaks sat off to the side. I’d spent a lot of time in mine—and it was mine now. My grandfather had given it to me. Sometimes he paddled out with me, but mostly I was on my own. It didn’t matter though. Sometimes I stopped being on my own once I got out there.
The salmon had started to run, so there was a superpod of killer whales around the island. Pretty much every time I went out, I caught sight of dorsal fins in the distance.
I’d seen Oreo and his pod a dozen times. I always took binoculars with me now, so even from a distance I could recognize him by the little notch in his dorsal fin. Most of the time the whales were so far away that I needed the binoculars. A couple of times they’d been closer, and once Oreo had come right up to me. It was a magical moment I will never forget.
As the rest of the pod had swum off, I’d spotted his dorsal fin coming toward me. I’d sat still as he swam around me, doing smaller and smaller circles. Finally he’d stopped, periscoped up, turned his head and looked at me. We’d locked eyes and stared at each other for a few seconds. Then he’d tilted his head, slipped back under the water and was gone, off to rejoin his pod. I’d watched the dorsal fin disappear and reappear as he surfaced for air.
It was pretty unbelievable. So much of what had happened over the last six weeks felt that way. My grandfather was still my grandfather. He could be lost for a day or two in his painting and hardly talk—or even eat, unless I brought him something. He could be moody and cranky, but he could also be kind and caring and nice. Most important, he was my grandfather. And I was his grandson.
“There it is!” I exclaimed.
The boat had rounded the point and was steaming toward us through the cove.
I scanned the deck but didn’t see what I was hoping to see. I had an image in my head of how this was supposed to happen. She was going to be on the bow, waving to us as the boat came into view. I guessed she was inside—unless she wasn’t on the boat at all. What if she’d changed her mind? What if she just couldn’t do it? What if—and then I saw her. I recognized the brilliant red coat she loved, even though I couldn’t really see the features of her face yet. It was the exact same color as the rain jacket I was wearing—her mother’s jacket. That made me smile.
She waved, and I waved back. And so did my grandfather.
Jag came onto the deck. The boat got closer and approached the dock. Jag tossed a line, and my grandfather reeled the boat in. I expected Jag to jump off the end to secure the bow, but instead my mother did. She tied off the back expertly.
I ran down the dock to greet her. She stood up and gave me a big hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” I whispered in her ear.
“It’s so good to hug you,” she said. “Are you well?”
“I’m great. And you?”
“I’m doing really well too,” she answered.
“Really?”
“Really. It’s been hard, but I’m good. Honestly.”
“I believe you.” I took her by the hand and led her down the dock to where my grandfather was waiting. He looked nervous.
I think Jag and the captain realized this was a private moment. Neither of them had stepped off the boat yet.
I knew what I was going to say next because I’d practiced it—a lot.
“Mom, there’s somebody I�
��d like you to meet. This is my grandfather, Angus. Grandpa, this is your daughter, Becky.”
They both giggled nervously.
“I just thought you two should get to know each other.”
“We know each other,” she said.
“Not as well as you should,” I replied.
“How was the ride out?” my grandfather asked, breaking the obvious tension.
My mom looked relieved. “It was good. It brought back so many wonderful memories. I see you still have the kayaks.”
“Dylan got them out and cleaned them up.”
“I’m out on the water all the time,” I said.
“Maybe the two of us can go out. On the way in, we passed through a gigantic pod of killer whales just around the point.”
I wondered if Oreo and his pod were among them.
“Maybe after I’ve settled in we could go out and find them,” she said.
“That would be nice.”
“If we’re lucky,” my mom continued, “maybe we could even get really, really close to them. It’s pretty exciting to kayak right beside a whale.”
“I can only imagine,” I said.
My grandfather snickered.
We hadn’t told her about what we’d done. She’d find out as soon as she got up to the cabin. My grandfather had painted the scene—Oreo on the rocks, covered with sheets and towels, and me standing over top of him, pouring water from the blue bin. In the background, in the ocean, were the dorsal fins of Oreo’s pod. It was an amazing picture, and my grandfather was an amazing painter. Best of all was the title—Family.
“So would you like to tell my mother—your daughter—the surprise, or would you rather I did?” I asked.
“I think you should. After all, it was your idea,” he said.
My mother looked concerned.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Some surprises are good. Those boxes that are being unloaded from the boat don’t contain just food and supplies. There are extra art supplies.”
“We thought you could use your time here to sketch and paint…that is, if you want to,” said my grandfather.
“That’s…that’s amazing…just amazing.” My mom looked like she was going to cry.
“I made some space in my studio,” he added.
“In your studio?” she asked. “But you hardly even let me in there when I was growing up!”
“You’re grown up now…and I’m sorry for not letting you in. That wasn’t right. Anyway, four weeks is a long time to be out here, and we want—I want you to be happy,” my grandfather said. He looked nervous but pleased.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She turned to me. “Are you sure you’re okay about staying out here for another month?”
“I can’t think of any place else I’d rather be.”
We had all agreed that we were going to stay out here for the rest of the summer, until I had to go back and start school. That was the plan.
“How about you? Are you okay with it?” I asked my mom.
“This is my home,” she said. “Some of the best times of my life were out here. It’s good to get away from the city.”
“It sure is,” I agreed.
What my mom didn’t know was that I had another plan I hadn’t told anybody about yet. I’d done some research on homeschooling and the support I could get for my studies online. Just in case we decided to live here for the whole year.
“I know the last few weeks must have been tough for both of you,” my mom said.
Grandpa and I exchanged a look. We both shrugged.
“We had our life-and-death moments, but I think we did pretty well,” I said.
“We’re a good team,” my grandfather added.
My mom looked a bit confused. “Well, I guess we should get up to the cabin,” she said.
“Maybe before we do that, you could start by giving each other a hello hug.” I was determined to make these two important people in my life work things out.
They both looked uneasy.
“It’s easy. Real easy,” I said. “Both of you, come here.”
I reached out and threw one arm around my mother and the other around my grandfather. I pulled them both in and felt them extend their arms around me and around each other.
“Grandpa, you were wrong about us being a good team.”
“I was?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re not a team. We’re a family.”
Eric Walters, Member of the Order of Canada, began writing in 1993 as a way to get his fifth-grade students interested in reading and writing. He has since published more than a hundred novels and picture books. He is a tireless presenter, speaking to over 100,000 students per year in schools across the country. He lives in Guelph, Ontario.
