Whale Song (12 page)

My grandmother handed a tin to my mother. “You’re too skinny, Daniella. Good thing I’m here. Now…tell me more about this Pulmonary Hyper…thing.”

My mother’s smile drooped.

“
Come,” my grandmother said, leading her upstairs.

My father patted my head. “You’ll have to give them your room for ten days.” He looked worried, as though he thought I would argue.

I smiled. “I’ll survive sleeping in the living room.”

An hour passed before I saw my grandmother again. And when I did, she looked miserable. Her shoulders slumped and her wrinkled eyes drifted toward me, then darted away.

“
Sarah?” she called. “Come see what I have.”

She had brought me some drawing and art books illustrated by an Italian artist. I politely thanked her and took the books to my room. I enjoyed drawing, but compared to my mother, my figures were one-dimensional sticks with goofy faces. I never dreamt that I’d become an artist like my mother.

My parents invited the Dixons to spend Christmas Eve with us and it was one of the most magical nights of my childhood. They arrived in the afternoon, carrying gifts and freshly baked sweets. While Goldie, Shonda and I played board games, the women puttered around in the kitchen and Mr. Dixon, Nonno Rocco and my father sat outside on the deck and discussed river fishing and deer hunting.

Later, we exchanged Christmas gifts.

I gave Goldie a scented, fabric-covered photo album.

“
I can put Robert’s pictures in it,” she said with a smile.

I was pleased when my parents gave the Dixons a sculpture my mother had ordered from the gallery in San Francisco. Nonna Sofia gave them four jars of her famous homemade spaghetti sauce and a bottle of Italian wine. She received a beautiful basket, a jade pendant and some special tea in return.

“
Jack,” my mother said. “Can you get Nana’s gift?”

My father disappeared for a moment and returned with something that brought tears to Nana’s eyes. The painting of the gray wolf and the Indian girl.

Nana squeezed my mother’s hand. “Thank you, Daniella. I’ll treasure this always.”

Mrs. Dixon brought out some beautifully wrapped gifts and passed them to my parents.

“
This is terrific,” my father said, admiring a new tackle box filled with flashy lures.

“
Now maybe you’ll catch bigger fish,” my mother teased.

She opened her gift and pulled out a pair of silver eagle earrings and a large hand-woven basket. Painted on it was a bald eagle soaring above a spruce tree.

“
I love these,” she said, her face beaming.

Goldie pressed a small box into my hands. Without waiting for an invitation, I tore it open. Inside was a beautiful, hand-carved silver bracelet.

I didn’t know what to say.

“
It was carved ‘specially for you by my brother Andy,” Nana said. “See,
Hai Nai Yu
? This is a mama killer whale and her baby. Because we know how much you love them.”

“
Nana got it engraved too,” Goldie said, her eyes sparkling.

I flipped it over.

The writing on the inside was etched in a beautiful scroll.

To Hai Nai Yu―The Wise One of the One Who Knows.

I heard a sharp
crack
and swiveled my head just in time to see an icicle snap off the roof outside and stab the snow below.

A shiver raced up my spine.

My grandparents returned home to Vancouver in January and the chilly winter months passed by swiftly. By March, my mother appeared to have made a complete recovery. She even went back to painting, although my father cautioned her constantly to take it easy. I’m not sure she knew what that meant. She seemed almost driven by an unidentifiable force. She finished two paintings in record time and started on a third.

One Friday morning, my father joined us for breakfast instead of hurrying off to work like he usually did.

“
Want to go out on the schooner tomorrow?” he asked me.

“
That’s a great idea,” my mother said. “I’ll pack us a picnic lunch.”

My father frowned. “Dani, perhaps you should stay―”

“
I feel great, Jack. Quit being such a worry-wart.”

Early the next morning, we packed a large basket and drove to the harbor. When we reached the dock where the
Finland Fancy
was moored, I noticed another schooner in her place.

“
Where’s your boat, Dad?” I asked, confused. “And what’s
that
one doing in your spot?”

My father chuckled. “That’s her, Sarah.”

I eyed him as if he’d lost his mind. “What?”

“
She’s been refinished, inside and out,” he explained. “Looks great, huh?”

Stunned, I examined the
Finland Fancy
. She had been given a fresh coat of paint to see her through the winter months and looked sparkling clean. Her deck had been stained in a cherrywood finish and the hull was painted a pale blue with a royal blue trim.

“
Wow,” I said, awestruck. “I didn’t even recognize her.”

“
Yeah, me too when I first saw her,” he said.

Skip greeted us with a friendly salute, his white hair curling under his captain’s hat. He patted me on the head, went to his cabin and prepared to leave the harbor.

“
Get Mom a glass of water,” my father told me as he untied the moor lines and pushed off from the dock.

I headed below deck to the galley and poured ice water into two glasses―one for my mother and one for me. I took them up top where my father was fussing over my mother.

“
Go below if the sun gets too hot,” he warned her.

Rolling her eyes, she settled into her chair and slipped on some sunglasses. “Yes, dear.”

I released a pent-up sigh. It was wonderful to see her healthy again. Everything seemed normal and I tried to put my fears to rest.

Bundled warmly in blankets on the deck, we listened to the songs of the sea. With the echolocation equipment, we heard numerous fish, a couple of seal lions and at last the familiar sound of the killer whale. My father scribbled constantly in his notebook―seemingly in another world―while my mother and I stared up at the clouds and tried to distinguish shapes and creatures.

“
That one looks like a fairy,” she said, pointing at a fluffy, cotton candy cloud.

“
Or an angel,” I added.

We gazed at the sky and watched the fairy angel dissipate until it stretched into an abstract design. It made me think of something I’d been meaning to ask her for a long time.

“
Mom, do you believe in Heaven?”

There was an imperceptible tremble in my mother’s hand as she carefully plucked off her sunglasses and folded them in her lap. Then she released a long breath and her eyes skimmed across the water.

“
I think it must be a wonderful place with no pain or sorrow, a place to be free. Kind of like a big ocean where you can swim around in warm water without fear.” Her eyes rested on me. “Why do you ask, Sarah?”

I shrugged. “I just wondered. Nana says that sometimes people can come back as an animal―after they die, I mean. At least that’s what the Nootka believe.”

“
What would you come back as?” my father asked me. “An eagle?”

“
No way. I’m too afraid of heights.”

My parents snickered loudly.

“
I know what I’d come back as,” my mother said.

“
What?” I asked.

She reached over, picked up the headphones and slipped them over her head. She grinned and passed them to me. At first, there was only silence. Then I heard the soft keening of a whale.

“
A whale,” I guessed.

She grinned. “Then Dad could study
me
.”

Her eyes met my father’s and they gazed intently at each other for a long time. I studied them apprehensively, engraving that memory on my mind. Suddenly, I sensed a change in the air around me. It was as if we were in a vacuum. For a second, the breath was sucked right out of me. A shiver ran up my spine.

“
And if I was a whale,” my mother continued. “You and your father could come out here and visit me every day. But you’d have to learn how to speak
orca
, so we could communicate.”

She made short clicking sounds and cried like a whale.

I shrugged off my dark mood and laughed at her giddy behavior. But I felt a lump in my throat when I replayed the conversation in my mind.

“
Look!” my father shouted.

My mother and I turned our heads in unison and saw four whales surfacing near the schooner. The pod frolicked in the water and we shrieked when the largest whale lifted right out of the water and slammed sideways on the surface.

Then I spotted something in the distance.

A single killer whale swam about thirty yards behind the pod. It was a calf and it was trying to catch up to the four adult whales.

My father’s brow pinched in bewilderment. “That’s the same calf we saw last time. But that’s not her pod. They have different markings.”

Saddened, I gazed at the calf. “Where’s her family then?”

He rubbed his face. “She’s somehow gotten separated from them. She’s still rather young to be on her own though.” He flipped through his notebook and jotted something down.

“
Will this
pod take her in?” my mother asked.

He sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve heard it happen occasionally, but it’s not common for a pod to adopt another whale.”

At that moment, Skip interrupted us. “I think we should head in, Professor. The winds are changing and we could be in for a storm.”

My eyes drifted toward the lonely calf. She followed the other whales, always remaining a safe distance behind them. It was as if she were desperately trying to seek approval from the other pod.

I knew how it felt to be different, to be an outcast.

Two days later, my mother relapsed and was back in Bamfield General. This time she stayed in the hospital for four days and Dr. Anders released her with strict warnings that she was to spend the next two days in bed. He said she needed to rest more during the day and he gave her some medication to take daily.

School had made special accommodations for me during the past month and when I finally returned to class, I was greeted by a warm round of applause from my classmates and Mrs. Higginson.

Everyone seemed to be happy that I was back.

Except Annie Pierce.

On my way to the girl’s washroom, I was ambushed. Annie shoved me inside and barred the exit. Her friends remained out in the hallway, guarding the door.

“
Think you’re somethin’ special, don’tcha?” Annie smirked.

I felt like a kitten cornered in a cage with a voracious lion.

“
You’re just white trash,” she muttered as she paced in front of me. “And not even Canadian trash. Why don’tcha go on back to the United States?”

Trembling, I said, “Leave me a―”

Without warning, her foot shot out and connected with my knee. I felt a searing pain shoot up my leg and the next thing I knew, I was shoved to the floor.

“
White bitch! You think you’re better than me?”

She stomped on my ribs, my arms and my legs.

“
Annie, stop it,” I pleaded. “Please…you’re hurting me.”

Her furious eyes narrowed and for a moment I thought she was going to let me go. But she dragged me into one of the stalls and plunged my head into the toilet.

I couldn’t breathe. I choked on bitter toilet water and my nose burned. I thought for sure that I was going to drown. My whole life of eleven years flashed before me.
Mom…Dad…

I began to fight back. I scratched at her arms and stabbed my nails into her skin. When she let out a piercing shriek and released me, I stared at her, terrified of what she’d do next.

“
Annie…”

She crouched down by my face. “You’re nothing.”

My head smacked hard against the toilet bowl and blackness swirled around me. As I tried to stand up, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed me and I fell to the floor. Voices faded in and out, invading the thick fog of my mind. Blurry faces stared down at me, concerned and caring. Then someone lifted me up.

And I surrendered to the painful but welcoming darkness.

“
Sssarah…”

I was a butterfly, wrapped in a warm cocoon. I snuggled in deeper, safe and loved. No worries, no fears…

“
Sarah, wake up.”

I reluctantly opened my eyes and blinked a few times.

The cocoon was gone.

My eyes drifted over my surroundings, recognizing the bay window, my swimming ribbons, my room. I was at home, safe in my own bed. My throat was raw, my head throbbed and every inch of my body screamed with pain. I tried to move, to sit up, but the pain was unbearable.