Shipwreck (2 page)

“Wow,” said Karen. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot you could write about.”

“Well... I don’t know.... ”

“Come on, Bill. It would be a good exercise for you.”

So Bill started to write, and he found that his great-grandfather’s story came quite easily to him. He enjoyed trying to get into the heart and mind of his ancestor.

He told Wendy what he’d written. She said she wanted to read it, but as yet, she hadn’t found time.

The evening was cold and wet. Sleet was slamming against the windows. Bill felt miserable. Tomorrow would be the first anniversary of Julie’s death, and he dreaded spending Christmas without her. He warmed up a frozen pasta dinner from the supermarket. He thought about writing some more, but he couldn’t settle into it. The hockey game was due to come on in a minute. If the Maple Leafs won, watching the game would be even better for his mood than writing.

The phone rang. He answered it.

“Hi, Dad, it’s me.”

Bill groaned to himself. He loved Wendy, but he knew from experience that when she called on a Saturday evening, she wanted something. He was right.

“Dad, I hate to ask you this on such short notice, but my babysitter has let me down. She broke her ankle at the skating rink. She’s in the hospital.”

“Well, that’s a good excuse,” said Bill. “Let me guess. You want me to babysit?”

“Oh, Dad, will you? I’d cancel going out, but it’s a special office party, and I really shouldn’t miss it.”

Normally, Bill was only too happy to be with his granddaughter, but tonight the hockey game was a special one. He didn’t really want to go out in this miserable weather, either.

“I don’t suppose Keith could do it, for once? He is Amy’s father, after all.”

There was a little silence on the other end of the line.

“In fact, it’s Keith’s office party I’m going to,” Wendy said.

Another silence. “You didn’t tell me you were getting back together.”

“I’m not really sure we are, that’s why. We’re trying to start all over again. Just go on some dates. That sort of thing. Besides, I didn’t tell you because I know how you feel about him.”

“Hey, Wendy. It’s your life. I’m not the one he cheated on. I’m not the one who was dumped without notice. That was you, my girl. But maybe you can forgive him for that. And for being an empty-headed, self-centred idiot who’s only interested in getting rich fast. If you can forgive all that, you deserve angel’s wings.”

“Dad. Please. Keith has changed. He’s been thinking about things. He says he misses Amy and me.”

“Really? You could have fooled me. I thought he forgot her last birthday.”

Wendy sighed. “He’s changed, Dad. He really has. And he is the father of your granddaughter. Surely that counts for something?”

“Amy is the only reason I haven’t slugged the guy.”

In the background, Bill heard the sound of a doorbell ringing.

“That’s Keith now,” Wendy said. “Dad, will you do this for me? You know how much Amy loves you.”

“I was planning to come over tomorrow.”

“I can’t get anybody else on such short notice,” Wendy said. “You can stay overnight and spend the day with her tomorrow. She’s still not feeling quite herself since she got the chicken pox. She will be thrilled to see you.”

“I was planning to work on the story I told you about.”

“Bring it with you. You could read it to her. She’d like that.”

“It’s not a kid’s story,” Bill said.

“You can skip over the parts she might not understand.” Wendy sighed. “Please, Dad. I’m really stuck. When Amy falls asleep, you can work here. You can use my computer if you like.”

“No, I’m still at the pen and ink stage.”

“Seriously, Dad, I’m really stuck.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve got to give me a half-hour to get my things together. Maybe Keith could wait in the car.”

“Dad. For goodness’ sake! I’ll see you in half an hour, then.”

She hung up with a slam.

Bill felt bad. He didn’t want her to feel torn between her father and her ex-husband. However, he really couldn’t stand his former son-in-law. He hoped Wendy would see the light soon.

When Bill got to Wendy’s house, she already had her coat on. Keith was nowhere to be seen. Wendy gave her dad a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Dad. Amy is all ready for bed. She’s in her PJs. We won’t be late.”

“Wendy, I’m sorry for sounding hard-hearted. I just want the best for you.”

“I know you do, Dad.”

Wendy smiled. But she seemed sad. Then she picked up her purse and gloves, blew him a kiss, and left.

Bill went upstairs to Amy’s room. She was in bed, looking at one of her picture books. She looked thinner since having chicken pox. There were still scabs on her face and arms.

“Granddad! Mommy said you were coming. Oh, goodie!”

He walked over to the bed and gave her a kiss. She seemed a little hot to him. Her cat, a black and white ball of fluff, glanced at him and meowed. Bill ruffled its hair.

“Hiya, Boots. Catch any mice today?”

The cat started to clean its paws and refused to answer.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Bill asked Amy.

“I’m still itchy, but Mommy says I can go back to school next week.” She looked up at him. “What do you want to do tonight, Granddad?”

“What do you want to do, Amy?”

“Hmm. My eyes are tired, so no TV. I think I’d like a story.”

“Sure thing. What would you like to hear?”

“Mommy said you are writing down your memories. I’d like to hear them.”

“They’re not exactly memories, Amy, just stories I’m writing about the family. I wasn’t even born when my story took place.”

She looked puzzled. At six years old, Amy was still trying to make sense of life. She found it hard to understand how somebody who was here, now, hadn’t always been alive.

“What’s the story called?”

“Shipwreck.”

“And what’s it about?”

“It’s about the early life of my great-grandfather, William Murdoch.”

“That’s the same name as you, except you’re called Bill instead of William.”

“That’s right. The name William is passed down through the family.”

“Why wasn’t I named William?”

“It’s a boy’s name.”

“No, it’s not. There’s a girl in my class named Billie.”

“You’re named after the first William’s wife. Her name was Amy.”

His granddaughter wrinkled up her forehead. “We’re learning this sort of thing in class. Making a family tree. You are my grandfather.” She started to count on her fingers. “That means your great-grandfather would be my great-great-great-grandfather. And his wife, Amy, would be my great-great-great-grandmother. Three greats.” She beamed.

“Well done, Amy, well done. You’re right. The first William Murdoch was born in 1861. About 150 years ago.”

“He must have been very old when he died.”

Bill decided to let that pass. He could understand her point of view.

She thought for a moment. “Was he a policeman?”

“Yes, he was. He was a detective.”

“Like you were?” Amy asked.

“Yep.”

“Cool. None of the other kids at school have grandfathers who were detectives. Did you catch bad men who killed people?”

“Yes, I did,” replied Bill.

“Lots?”

“Should have been more, but yes, I caught lots.”

“Did you see dead people, with their blood and guts hanging out?” Amy asked.

Bill made a mental note to talk to Wendy about the kind of television programs Amy was watching.

“No, no guts.”

She looked disappointed. “Any dead people?”

“Yes, some.”

She scratched at a chicken pox scab. “Did you have chicken pox when you were a kid, Granddad?”

“I sure did.”

“Did I get it from you, then?”

“No, of course not. You don’t catch chicken pox from somebody who used to have it. You catch it from somebody who has it now.”

“Like Sammy Dutton, in my class. He came to school with spots all over him. They were even in his hair. Miss Dillon had a fit and sent him right home. She asked him why he’d come to school when he was so sick. You know what he said, Granddad?”

“What?”

“He said his mom hadn’t noticed his spots, and it was much nicer to be at school. Do you call them pox?”

“Yes, you can do that. Or spots. Sorry about Sammy.”

“He smells bad sometimes. Sophie sits behind him. She told the teacher. Miss Dillon said that was because he didn’t have a mommy or daddy who could take care of him the way our mommies and daddies do.” Amy looked into her grandfather’s eyes. “Why can’t she, Granddad? Why can’t Sammy’s mommy look after him?”

Bill stroked her hair. “I don’t know the answer to that, sweetheart. Sometimes life wears people down.”

She wriggled away from him. “Sophie says that Sammy’s mommy doesn’t have a husband. Not even one who lives somewhere else, like my daddy. She says Sammy’s mommy is very young.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay, little monkey. It’s getting late. Are you sure you want to hear a story now?”

Amy, who had been leaning against her grandfather’s arm, sat up straight.

“I’m very sure. Why did the first William Murdoch become a detective?”

“That is what I’m going to tell you, if I ever get a chance. I think you could say that he became a detective because of a shipwreck.”

A sudden gust of wind threw pellets of snow against the window. Outside, the wind shook the trees. The branches scratched at the glass, as if they wanted to come in.

Amy snuggled further down under her covers.

“Daddy stayed over last night. It was too cold for him to go to his own house.”

Bill raised his eyebrows. “I see.”

“It’s nice when Daddy stays over,” said Amy. “Mommy smiles more. She says he is coming back to live here.”

“Oh, is he?” So much for Wendy and Keith going out on test dates. She hadn’t mentioned this earlier.

“That means I won’t have to sleep at his house anymore,” continued Amy. “I don’t like that because I have to leave Boots here. Daddy sneezes when Boots is around. He said that’s why he had to go and live in his own house.” Amy frowned. “Is that true, Granddad? I hope he won’t make Boots live somewhere else.”

Bill scratched the cat’s head. “Let’s not worry about that now. Are you ready for the story?”

Amy nodded. “Yes. Are you ready, Boots?”

The cat purred. Bill took that as a yes.

He tucked Amy’s comforter around her shoulders. “Warm enough?”

“Yes, Granddad. Please start.”

“Now, listen up, and don’t interrupt unless there’s something you don’t understand.”

“Okay, Granddad. Daddy interrupts all the time, and it sure is irritating.”

The word was too adult for a six-year-old. Amy had to be repeating something her mother said. Bill made another note to speak to Wendy. She had to think before she talked about her own problems in front of a bright child like Amy.

Bill began his story. “The weather was very much like this, gloomy, cold, and snowy, but much, much worse. The snow was deep on the ground. Even though it was the Day of the Nativity — that is another word for Christmas...”