The Winner's Game (25 page)

W
HEN THE TELEPHONE
rings on Sunday morning, the news is good. Grandma Grace is being released from the hospital and they are transporting her back from Seaside to the nursing facility in Cannon Beach. We meet her there at ten o'clock, unsure of what her mental state will be, but hoping for the best.

As I enter the room, the first thing I notice is the expression on Grandma's face. It's a tired smile, but peaceful.

The second thing I notice is that she has noticed me. “There you are,” comes her familiar greeting, drawn out in slow, deliberate syllables. “My fam'ly.” Her speech isn't perfect, but better than most days. More important than the pronunciation, her simple words make it abundantly clear that she is “there.” We really can't ask for more than that.

She is still very weak, so we can't stay long—thirty minutes, tops. During the course of our visit, we all take turns telling her about our Winner's Game.

“You play with Dell?” she asks excitedly. “Oh good.”

When it's Ann's turn to speak, she points at the old Altoids tin that is still on the table next to Grandma's bed and asks if it was a regular part of the original Winner's Game with Great-grandpa. I already know the answer, since I recently read about it in one of her journals, so to save Grandma the effort, I help fill in the details. “Burying treasures for each other started years after they began the game. She'd bought him the metal detector after they retired to Cannon Beach, but he rarely found anything of value. So one year for Valentine's Day she planted something in the sand out behind the house—a love note in an Altoids can, along with a candy heart. He found it a few days later. In response, Grandpa made a treasure map for her, and sent her out with the metal detector to do some searching of her own. She returned with a love note too, along with a different candy heart, glued to a plastic ring, just like the one Cade found. After that, it became their own little tradition to bury love notes and candy hearts in the sand near the house for the other one to find.

“Took turns,” Grandma adds with some effort, but with a giant smile. “Him, then me. Back and forth.”

“According to what she wrote, this became their most prized reminders that the love they shared was a treasure.”

Grandma nods. Now there is a happy little tear in her eye. “Yes,” she says resolutely. Then she reaches out and takes my hand, and her eyes begin to water even more. “I miss him, Em'ly.”

“I know you do, Grandma. I miss him too.”

“I'll see him soon,” she whispers.

“Not too soon, I hope.”

“Soon,” she says again. It doesn't sound like she's giving up, more like she's just certain that her time is drawing near and that she isn't afraid of what's to come.

On the drive home from the nursing facility, I ask for an update on the kids' scores for the third week of their game.

While Ann and Bree pull out their miniature notepads, Cade quickly throws some compliments their way to help bolster his score. “Bree, have I told you today how much I love you? And your hair looks kinda nice—not so poufy, like it normally does.”

“Gee, thanks,” she replies. “Right back at you.”

“And Ann, I love you too. You're smart and funny and pretty and…smart.”

“Smart twice, eh?” she says, chuckling. “I must be
really
smart. Thanks, Cade.”

Cade quickly jots down some marks on his score sheet, then tallies everything up.

“Everyone ready to share?” I ask.

“I am,” Cade blurts out. “Ninety, on the dot.” Glancing at his sisters on either side of him, he adds, “Beat that.”

“OK,” says Ann. “I think I will. I'm at one hundred and two.”

A look of disappointment crosses Cade's face, but I reassure him that he's still within striking distance, with the rest of the day still to go.

“Bree?” asks Dell. “How about you?”

Bree was all smiles before Ann and Cade read their scores. Now, though, she looks despondent. I'm pretty sure she's on the verge of tears. “Do I have to share?”

Dell is driving, so he can't see her expression. “I think it's only fair,” he tells her. “So that Ann and Cade know what they have to do to beat you. Aren't you the one who was so adamant you were going to win this week?”

“Yeah, but…I messed up.” Now a tear does escape, cascading down her face until it drops onto her lap.

“It's OK, Bree,” I assure her. “You've done wonderfully. You've gotten along with Ann and Cade so well this week, and that's the whole point. Just tell us your score; maybe you're still close enough that you can work extrahard today to catch them.”

“Thirty-three,” she whispers through more tears. Then she flips to another page in her notebook and rips it out. “Here, Cade,” she says, reaching across Ann to hand it to him. “This is for you. Number thirty-four.”

Cade reads the message on the paper several times, but looks confused by it. “What is this? A poem?”

“A clue,” she says, choking up. “You'll need the metal detector.”

“Oh, Bree,” I say, reaching behind Dell's seat to touch her knee. “That is the sweetest thing ever. Cade, tell us what it says.”

He reads it silently once more, then finally shares it aloud: “
Pirate Boy near haystack's slope, near the needles you must grope, in the sand, for there you'll find, a piece of metal left behind.
” His eyes light up now that he understands what it is. “You mean you buried a treasure for me?”

She nods. And sniffles. And wipes her nose, which is now running in time with her tears.

Dell adjusts the rearview mirror so he can see her too. “Sweetie, that's very thoughtful. Why did you say you messed up?”

“
Because
. After we started the game over—when we stopped counting the negative things—I was really glad that we fought less, but I wanted to do more than just make up compliments all the time, like Cade, or be very polite and say ‘thank you' to everyone like Ann. Then we started sneaking around doing little things here and there, like all the chocolates on my pillow and making beds for each other, and that was great too, but I still didn't feel like I was giving Cade or Ann things that would make them really happy, you know? Like,
really
happy. So I thought of some things, and it took a lot of work; it's made me really happy to do them, but…maybe a lot of little things is better than a couple big things, because I'm still the loser in the game.”

“You're not the loser,” I tell her. “Remember, we all win if we're all happier.”

“Then why am I crying?”

“It's OK to cry, Bree,” Dell tells her. “I've felt that way before too, when things didn't work out the way I planned. It hurts. But that doesn't take away from the things you did for your brother and sister. And what you did for Cade is probably the nicest thing anyone did for anybody all summer.”

“No it's not,” Bree whimpers. “I did something even bigger for Ann.”

Everyone is very quiet for several seconds. Finally Ann asks, “Bree, what ‘big thing' did you do for me?”

Looking away, she replies, “I don't want to say.”

At first I'm not sure why, but suddenly Ann starts crying too. Then she unbuckles her seat belt so she can more easily wrap her sister up in a hug, which Bree doesn't resist. “It was you,” she says, weeping openly now. “You wanted Tanner to notice you…but you went to him
for me.
You told him, didn't you, that we saw him with his sister? You told him about my bucket list, and the sea lions. You even told him when we were going to be on the beach, so he could deliver the roses.”

“Somebody had to,” Bree says sadly. “Before it was too late.”

Ann finally lets her go. “And how many points did you take for that, Bree?”

With a shrug, Bree says, “Three. One for clearing things up with Tanner, one for the roses, and one for your date.” She sniffles once more. “I was going to give myself another one if you got your first kiss, but that didn't work out. That's why I kept watching you when you got home. I wanted to see if I would get another point, but all you got was a hug.”

Ann grabs her once more and squeezes as hard as she can. “What you did is worth at least a thousand points, little sister. I love you so much.” When she releases her this time, Ann takes Bree's notebook from her hand and writes “
1,000
” in bold figures along the bottom. Then she turns to Cade. “Good luck catching up to her this week, Cade.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “She deserves to win.” Then Cade takes Bree's notebook too and adds another thousand points for whatever treasure she'd left for him out in the sand.

Bree is all smiles and tears now. So is Ann. So is everybody.

It is an absolutely perfect moment.

Unfortunately, I'm old enough to know that perfect moments can only last so long.

Life is so unfair
…

I
T IS ALREADY
starting to get hot outside by the time we get home. The beach is filling up with tourists, but it is still a perfect day to be out there in the sun, so everyone puts on their swimsuits and finds a clean towel—and Cade grabs the metal detector—and we head out back. Dad stakes out a nice spot on the dry sand, about fifty yards back from the ocean.

With both parents there, we are given permission to wade in the water, which Cade and Bree are both eager to do, even though it's freezing. They look like they're having a good time splashing around in the waves, but I can't bring myself to join them. Improving my tan from the safety of my towel feels like a much better use of my time, since getting near the water runs the risk of reliving my last open-water experience, which is something I'm not prepared to do.

Once Cade is fully numb, he wants to go find his treasure. For that, I'm eager to participate. Bree hovers close, but doesn't do or say anything to spoil the surprise. Cade's hands are full with the metal detector, so he asks me to keep track of the clue.

“
Pirate Boy near haystack's slope
,” I read as we walk toward Haystack Rock. “
Near the needles you must grope.
” I point just ahead of us. “Those little rocks to the left—those are The Needles. Tanner told me that.” Once we're in the vicinity of the rocks, I finish reading the clue. “
In the sand, for there you'll find, a piece of metal left behind.
OK, Pirate Boy, turn that thing on and let's find the treasure.”

The tide is out far enough that we can go all the way out to The Needles without having to worry about the waves, but I know that won't last long, so I try to hurry him along. Eventually the water will rise beyond my comfort level, and possibly even cover up whatever Bree buried, depending on where she buried it. We choose to start right at the base of the rocks and work our way inland.

For the first twenty minutes, on the wettest part of the beach, we find nothing. Once we start to get farther away from the rocks and tide pools, the detector beeps several times, but all Cade finds are a couple of bottle caps.

Each time he uncovers one of them, Bree giggles or snickers. By our third false alarm she mumbles, “Getting closer.”

A few minutes later Mom and Dad come to check on our progress.

Cade proudly shows them the bottle caps he's found. “More for your collection,” jokes Mom. “I hope Bree isn't sending you on a wild-goose chase.”

“It's here,” Bree reassures us. “It won't be long now.”

From the corner of my eye I see Dad casually reach out and take Mom's hand in his. “Well, we're going to head up the beach for a while,” he says. “Just for a walk. Ann, you're in charge. And you two, no getting wet until we get back.”

Cade goes back to work immediately, swinging the metal detector in his normal back-and-forth motion, making sure not to miss any spots in front of him. Within just a few minutes of my parents' departure the alarm goes off, and this time it's much louder than with the bottle caps. Bree is biting her lip, which is a good sign.

Cade and I both kneel in the sand and start digging furiously. At eighteen inches down I find the buried item: a tin Christmas container with a poinsettia-shaped lid.

“I found it in the attic,” says Bree before we have it fully unearthed. “I didn't think Grandma Grace would mind.”

“No, she won't,” I tell her. “She'll love that you put it to good use. When did you bury it?”

“Last night. I snuck out after everyone was asleep.”

“That's awesome,” says Cade.

Bree is beaming.

When Cade finally lifts the tin out of the sand, he shakes it twice, trying to measure its weight. “What's in here? Air?”

“Just about,” Bree giggles. “Open it up.”

Cade holds on to the bottom as I use both hands to lift off the lid. Inside is another tiny piece of paper from Bree's spiral notebook.

“The base of Haystack Rock,” I blurt out.

Cade is already two steps ahead. “Hurry up!”

At thirty paces we all pivot toward the ocean and march straight ahead to Haystack Rock. The inbound tide has already made significant progress; waves are lapping against the rock by the time we get there.

“Do you want to give us a hint where to look?” Cade asks Bree.

“Nope. You've got to use your metal-finder thingy.” She glances briefly at the ocean. “You might need to hurry, though. Pretty soon the water will be too high. Or you can just wait until tomorrow.”

“No way. I want to find it today.”

Me too…but there's no way I'm getting any closer to that water.
“Well, you're on your own, then,” I say as I begin backing away from the remnants of a wave that is chasing my feet on the wet sand. “Come show me when you find it.”

Not wasting any time, Cade goes right to work, waving his wand along the base of the rock. Periodically, Bree warns him of a big wave rolling in, and then they both go running. It doesn't take long before the only chance Cade has to search is while one wave is going out and before the next one comes in. During one such lull, the detector's alarm sounds with such fury that I can hear it from where I'm sitting. Bree gives a little hoot, all but confirming that he's found it.

Cade is careful to keep an eye on the spot as another wave chases them back up the beach. As soon as it retreats, he sets down the metal detector and makes a run for it. He jumps down and starts digging, but he's not fast enough.

“Another wave is coming!” Bree shouts.

“I've almost got it! Just a second!”

A few seconds later she yells again, “Cade! Get back!”

Right before the wave hits him, Cade grabs on to a small outcropping on Haystack Rock. The freezing water pours over his skinny bare back, but he holds tight.

After it passes him, Cade stands up in the thigh-deep water, still holding on to the rock. He gives a little victory shout, followed by a quick yelp.

I follow his gaze inland to see that the previous wave is now speeding back out to sea, like it's being sucked through a straw. There is no stopping it…and Cade is in its path.

“A sneaker wave,” I gasp, recalling the label my Dad gave them.
They sneak up on you…and take you back with them.

As the momentum of the water pushes seaward, Cade loses his grip.

My first worry is that he'll be slammed against the rock, but then I see him moving away from it in the surf. For a lightweight, Cade is a pretty decent swimmer, but against the fury of the currents he is driftwood, getting tugged and tossed in the foam.

A swarm of butterflies take flight in my stomach.

From somewhere beyond my focus I hear Bree screaming for help.

There's no one to help him…there's no one…

I keep watching as he is sucked under again, gasping and flailing.

He's drowning…Oh, please, God…not Cade! Don't take my little brother like this!

When he goes under again, I pull my eyes toward the horizon, wondering about that girl on the other side of the ocean who I'd very much like to meet someday. But I know I'll never get the chance. For a split second I recall how awful it was to feel my lungs filling with water, how impossibly terrifying it was to be unable to fight it, and to know with certainty that I was going to die.

That's what Cade is going through…Oh God, can't you help him?

In that moment, I am reminded of something Cade told my mother when he found out I needed a transplant. She'd told him that whatever happens, it's in God's hands, to which he replied, “I hope God has big hands.”

He does have big hands, Cade! He has us! We can be God's hands.

Just then, I catch a glimpse of a hand, then a head, pop up out of the water thirty yards out. It's brief, but it's enough to reveal his location.

In half a heartbeat, I am running toward the ocean. Not jogging but sprinting at full speed toward the water. There is no time to worry about the consequences now. I know my body cannot handle this kind of exertion, but if I don't give it everything I've got, the consequences for Cade are sure.

In record time I reach the water, but I don't slow down, even as the first frigid wave hits me.

Bree is screaming louder now, for both of us. She's giving directions, but I can't make them out because my ears are full of saltwater. My eyes are burning from salt too, but they are locked on a point forty yards out. As I'm swimming, the butterflies fly faster.

He's got to be here! Push harder! This is why you're a swimmer, Ann. This is why you're the big sister.

The ocean is fierce, but so am I. I move through the waves like I am part of it. My strokes are as sure and strong as they ever were, as though I've been training for this meet every day of my life.

When I reach the spot where I last saw him, I dive under, feeling around for anything. When I come up, Bree is still screaming something. I pause to look, and see that she is pointing north. I turn just in time to see Cade's face go under again, twenty yards up.

In what feels like no time at all, I am there, diving again beneath the surface. I hold my breath as long as I can, groping blindly in every direction. At the last possible moment, I feel a clump of hair, attached to a head. Then I have him by the neck and I'm pulling him up. I get him to the surface and continue to pull toward shore.

Dragging him with me, against the undercurrents, is killing me.
Literally.
The butterflies in my stomach move up into my chest, and suddenly they are swarming bees.

One of them bites me, then another and another, but I press on. I feel Cade trying to kick, but I know it is my power alone that will save us. There is no lifeguard on this beach. There is nobody but me.

Eventually we're aided by a wave that sends us sprawling into the shallows. As the water recedes, we are once again on wet sand. Bree and a stranger are right there to help pull us farther up onto the beach, beyond the ocean's deadly reach.

Cade is safe, but still very shaken—and shaking. As he tries to get up on his knees, he vomits a bunch of saltwater. I can tell it hurts—probably even burns—but the color is returning to his face.

I can't catch my breath, so I have to lie down on my back. I'm clutching my chest, but ignoring the pain. I turn my head so I can still see my brother. “You OK?” I ask, gasping.

He nods wearily. “I'm so sorry.”

I take a deep breath, still starving for air. “Don't be…It felt nice…to swim.” My chest heaves in and out several times. Once I've got a little more air in me, I finish my thought. “One more item…off my bucket list.”