“Really? You’ll take us all out?”
In my imagination, I was already on that boat.
My mother smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea, Jack.”
There was such excitement in the air as he picked my mother off the ground and spun her around in his arms. She laughed breathlessly and batted at him with both hands.
“Jack!” she shrieked. “Put me down!”
His eyes held a wicked twinkle. “And what if I don’t?”
“You’re making me dizzy,” she warned.
He set her down and she stumbled against the table.
“See?” she chastised him. “If I walk into a wall, it’s your fault.”
I forgot all about my mother’s clumsiness as we celebrated the arrival of the schooner and my father’s new job. My parents’ happiness was infectious. We rode a wave of joy that night and all my problems seemed to have disappeared.
But even I should have known that things would change.
After all…all good things must come to an end.
On Friday morning, I bolted out of bed, dressed hurriedly and raced downstairs. I couldn’t shut up about the field trip that my father had arranged with the principal and Mrs. Higginson. It was set for ten that morning.
“Finland Fancy field trip,” I announced.
My mother grinned. “Fun and fabulous Finland Fancy field trip.”
I sang that phrase repeatedly, fascinated by the tongue twister effect. I think my parents were relieved when I headed to school.
After a boring lecture on boat safety, Mrs. Higginson corralled us toward the bus and we piled in, chattering in youthful anticipation. We endured a bumpy bus ride to the harbor and then raced down to the dock where the Finland Fancy was anchored.
My gaze swept across the names on the boats. “Where is it?”
Goldie’s smile drooped. “Over there.”
As soon as I saw the boat, my heart immediately sank.
The research schooner was in rough shape. Its neglected hull was a battered white and needed painting. The trim was pine green and the cedar deck was weathered and uneven.
“I thought you said the Finland Fancy was new,” I complained as my father helped me onto the boat.
“Well, it’s new for us. It just needs some sprucing up, maybe some fresh paint.”
“Or a sledgehammer,” I mumbled without missing a beat.
He laughed. “Come on. She’s not that bad. And she’s fast.”
I wasn’t impressed. I had spent the last few days telling everyone how great the boat was going to be, that it had come all the way from Finland…that it was new.
“Hope this thing doesn’t sink,” I said dryly.
“Me too,” the skipper said behind me.
Skip, as he was known, was a weathered-faced jovial seaman with snow-white hair and a bushy beard. Because he puffed on a sweet-smelling tobacco pipe, I wanted to call him Captain High Liner, after the frozen fish my mother liked to buy. But I never worked up enough nerve.
“Welcome aboard,” he said. “I’m your skipper for today’s adventure aboard the Titanic.” He grinned at me. “I mean, the Finland Fancy.”
Nervous laughter trickled from my classmates while I suspiciously eyed the boat.
Goldie elbowed me. “I hope we don’t hit an iceberg.”
“Or an ice cube,” I muttered.
Mrs. Higginson seemed a little ‘green at the gills’, as my father put it later. She gingerly gathered the folds of her denim skirt and stepped onto the twenty-foot research schooner. The kids in my class filed on board behind her. Some appeared quite nervous, but they were all impressed by the boat―and by my father.
Skip directed us to deck chairs and bench seats, and Goldie and I were just settling down beside each other when Bobbie, who was sitting across from us, snorted loudly.
“Jeez, would ya look at Annie,” he said.
Heads swiveled in unison and we all gaped as Annie awkwardly climbed aboard the schooner. All eyes were drawn to her left arm and there was a collective gasp of shock. Annie had a broken arm. And it was wrapped in a cast and sling.
Mrs. Higginson rushed to her side. “What happened, dear?”
Annie shrugged. “I fell off my bike.”
Goldie and I watched in disbelief as our teacher fussed over and pampered my archenemy. Annie sat down on a deck chair and let out a soft whimper. The sound sent Mrs. Higginson scurrying for a pillow.
“Think she’s faking?” I asked Goldie.
“Naw, the cast is real.”
“I don’t think she fell off her bike. I think she got into a fight.”
Goldie snickered. “I wonder what the other guy looks like.”
I couldn’t resist a grin―until I glanced at Annie and caught her eye. She looked away too quickly and I knew that something wasn’t right.
The schooner pulled away from the harbor and I quickly forgot all about her. Holding onto the rail, I stood beside my best friend and watched the houses grow smaller. The ocean became more restless the farther out we went and the schooner bobbed up and down in rhythm. Rays of light bounced off the metal equipment as the sun beamed across the deck.
Some of my classmates had never seen the ocean in such a way. Many had never even been on a boat. I thought that was odd, considering they lived on an island surrounded by water.
“Okay class,” Mrs. Higginson called. “Move a bit closer to Professor Richardson.”
“Does anyone know what this is?” my father asked.
He held up a small black object. It had a long cord that was attached to a forbidding piece of equipment with various colored knobs.
“A microphone,” Adam answered promptly.
My father nodded. “But this is a special microphone. It’s designed to go underwater, to pick up sounds that sea creatures make.”
“Can we hear them?” Goldie asked.
“Once we’re out far enough you can listen with a pair of headphones. That’s what I do when I don’t want any distractions. Or I can turn up the volume and we can all listen at the same time.” He pointed to a large black knob.
He spent the next half-hour answering numerous questions, especially from the boys in my class. Adam appeared very interested in my father’s work. He was glued to his side for the entire day. I think that was one of the happiest days for my father. His work captured all of our hearts that afternoon, and he handled a barrage of questions and kept all of us kids in line. I was so proud to be his daughter.
When Skip shut off the engines, all we heard was the sound of waves rippling against the boat. Before us, the ocean was endless, and its beauty and power captured us.
“The water is calmer out here,” my father said. “In a few minutes we’ll drop the microphone overboard.”
“What sounds can you hear with it?” Mrs. Higginson asked, propping up her sunglasses with a chubby finger.
“You can hear almost any sea creature with this. Especially ones that use echolocation, such as whales, dolphins, seals, sea lions and many species of fish.”
He reached over the side, unhooked the microphone and tossed it out into the ocean. Then he cranked up the volume and motioned us to wait.
Minutes went by. Nothing. Not a sound.
Then we heard a soft chirping noise.
“What’s that?” Adam asked.
“Fish,” my father said, smiling. “Halibut.”
While we listened and waited, I stared out over the sea. Foamy waves dotted the horizon and pieces of deadwood floated around us.
I sighed impatiently. “I want to see killer whales.”
Goldie nodded, her eyes searching the surface of the water. I knew that she was looking for telltale evidence of a whale pod. Or maybe her brother.
“I don’t see anything,” she said, disappointed.
My father sat next to the equipment, made some adjustments and listened with the headphones. Minutes later, he grinned, yanked off the headphones and handed them to the nearest child―Adam Re
id, of course.
Adam’s eyes lit up and I wondered what he was listening to that had him smiling so much. As soon as he removed the headphones, my father unplugged them and cranked up the speakers so we all could hear the strange sounds coming from below.
I shut my eyes and listened.
Something made a rapid clicking noise. Then I heard an eerie, forlorn wail. It reminded me of a baby crying for its mother. I heard it again, and a shiver tingled up and down my spine.
After a moment, I opened my eyes and looked at Goldie.
Her face was beaming.
“That’s a killer whale,” my father said. “In fact, it’s a pod―a family. And they’re coming closer.”
The clicking sounds grew more agitated―like hundreds of agitated voices―and I held my breath in anticipation, my eyes glued to the water.
“Keep a lookout,” my father warned, throwing me a quick wink.
All of a sudden, about twenty yards out, a spray of water shot into the air. Before my father could explain that a whale was spouting, a killer whale broke the surface. Its body was huge and sleek. It was the most splendid sight I’d ever seen.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
The whale dove underwater and disappeared. A few seconds later, three whales emerged. And they headed straight for our boat.
“Oh no,” Mrs. Higginson moaned. “They’re going to hit us.”
“No they’re not,” my father said, patting her arm. “They’ll dive under. They’re much farther away than they appear.”
Some of the kids―including Goldie―nervously waited for the boat to sink. But I had faith in my father.
“Don’t worry,” I told my teacher. “If my dad says they’ll dive under, then that’s just what they’ll do.”
No sooner were the words out of my mouth, the whales sunk below the surface and reappeared a great distance behind us.
We ate lunch on the Finland Fancy, surrounded by a mystifying symphony of sea creatures. The schooner bobbed amongst pods of whales, a couple of dolphins and a curious sea lion. In the afternoon, we took out our binders and noted things of interest―until Mrs. Higginson announced a surprise quiz. It was conducted by my father who ignored our rolling eyes and proceeded to drill us on everything he had taught us that day.
For the last hour, Goldie slipped the headphones over her ears. She seemed just as captivated as I was by the immense beauty of the whales. A couple of times, I saw her nodding, as if in agreement to something she’d heard. Once, I noticed her lips moving and a radiant smile spread across her face. It was as if she had heard her brother’s voice.
“Okay kids,” my father said. “It’s time to call it a day.”
Amidst groans of disappointment, he turned off the sound equipment and raised the microphone. Then the Finland Fancy chugged back toward the harbor.
Once we were docked, my father pulled me aside. “Did you have a good time?”
“It was great,” I said, grinning. “It’s too bad Mom couldn’t have come out with us.”
“Maybe next time. She had a painting to finish for the gallery by Monday.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll meet you at home and we’ll see how she’s doing with it.”
During the bus ride back to school, Goldie and I compared notes about the day. Her eyes drifted shut, so I settled into my seat and closed my eyes too. I thought she was dozing, until I heard her snickering under her breath.
I eyed her suspiciously. “What?”
“Adam likes you, Sarah.”
My face felt like it was on fire. “What do you mean?”
“He told Bobbie Livingston he thinks you’re cute. Bobbie’s sister Mary told Melanie and she told me.”
I slunk low in my seat.
“Naw, I don’t think anyone else knows,” she said, reading my mind.
We turned and spied on Adam over the back of the seat. He was busy talking to Bobbie, so he didn’t notice us.
I let out a dreamy sigh. “He is cute.”
Suddenly, Adam turned his charismatic smile on me.
I froze. Then I dropped down into my seat.
Goldie leaned close. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
It was just the smallest of white lies.
I gazed out the window, thinking that Adam was God’s gift to young girls. And I couldn’t imagine why he would like me. But I was glad that he did.
In a dazed, euphoric fog, I practically skipped into my house and headed upstairs.
“Mom?” My voice echoed in the silence. “Mom, are you up here?”
I checked her studio, but my mother wasn’t there. Her painting sat unfinished and abandoned on the easel. I walked down the hall and knocked on her bedroom door. No answer.
I opened it anyway, expecting the room to be empty.
But it wasn’t.
My mother was curled up in her bed, fast asleep. She didn’t even stir when I approached her bedside.
“Mom?” I whispered.
She blinked. “Oh, you’re home.”
“Are you all right, Mom?”
“I’m fine, Sarah. Just tired.”
Her voice was weary and her face seemed a bit pale as she brushed a hand across her forehead. That worried me. My mother was always full of energy.
“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” I murmured.
“No, come and sit down,” she said, patting the bed. “How was the field trip?”
“It was great,” I grinned. “Dad was great. We saw killer whales and seals…and you should’ve heard the sounds they made.”
My mother yawned. “It sounds like you had a great time.
I looked down at her paint-splattered hands. “How come you didn’t finish your painting?”
An odd look shadowed her face. “I’ll finish it tomorrow. I just couldn’t seem to stay awake today. Must be the ocean air.” She pushed off the covers. “Hey, let’s make supper.”
“Okay. Can we have a barbecue?”
“That’s a great idea.” She stood up hastily and rubbed her legs. When she caught my worried look, she grinned. “That’ll teach me for staying in bed all day. Now don’t tell your father I was sleeping or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Sure,” I said uneasily.
We ate grilled salmon steaks and potato salad outside on the deck. My father talked nonstop about the field trip. And about how impressed he was at some of the kids’ questions during our field trip.
“That one boy…” he mused. “What was his name―Alan?”
“Adam,” I corrected as the heat rose in my cheeks.
“Yes, that’s it. Adam. He seemed very interested in my work. Asked lots of questions.”
I crawled into bed, thinking of a tall, brown-haired boy with golden eyes. Did Adam really like me? I knew I liked him.
That night I dreamt of a pod of killer whales with golden eyes. They swam in the ocean depths, chattering to each other about their journey. How I longed to swim with them.
Over the weekend, I plodded through school projects and a heap of homework. The following Monday, I caught myself spying on Adam to see if he was even looking at me. By the end of the day, I was sure that someone had lied. He didn’t seem to notice me from a hole in the ground.
I slumped into a depression.
An Indian summer blew in and warmed the sand and water. Each day after school, I walked along our little beach area and met up with Goldie. We swam out to the raft and my eyes were drawn toward Fallen Island. It almost seemed to call me and I was tempted to swim out to it. Until I remembered Goldie’s brother.
And my promise to my father.
In late September, we took a family excursion on board the Finland Fancy. It was my mother’s first time on a boat. Well, unless you counted the one-man pedal boat we used on our pond back in Wyoming.
As my mother crossed the deck and moved toward me, she grabbed the rail for support. “Can’t you hold this thing still?”
My father laughed. “Yo
u need to get your sea legs, Dani.”
He ruffled her hair and helped her to her seat. I settled into a chair next to her and we giggled like schoolgirls while Skip navigated the schooner out of the harbor and headed for the open sea.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” my mother said.
I nodded and gazed at the quiet ripples that caressed the ocean’s surface. “The calm before the storm,” I murmured.
I had no idea how prophetic my words would be.
Once we reached our destination, Skip cut the engines and my father dropped the microphone into the water. When he adjusted the volume, I heard a faint but familiar clicking sound.
“Hear that?” I said to my mother. “It’s a killer whale.”
Her face lit up radiantly. “I hear it.”
We listened in awe to the soulful wailing and agitated clicking. They overlapped in a beautiful, haunting medley.
I squinted at my father. “A pod?”
“A large one too,” he said with a nod.
An unexpected bitter breeze gusted across the ocean and my mother and I huddled close together with a wool blanket thrown over our shoulders. After a few minutes, my father joined us and we searched for signs of the pod, but the surface remained undisturbed.
Then the sound equipment went quiet.
Twenty minutes passed by.
I sighed with frustration. “I don’t see anything.”
All of a sudden, a moaning wail pierced the air.
“It’s awfully loud,” my mother said.
I smiled. “That means they’re getting―look!”
I jumped up, pulled her toward the rail and pointed to a pod that was surfacing about thirty feet away. There must have been at least eight killer whales. The magnificent mammals undulated in the water and headed closer to the Finland Fancy.
I glanced at my mother. She was just as awestruck as I’d been on the field trip.
Without warning, one of the whales leapt into the air and a huge wave crashed into the side of the boat. My mother was knocked off balance and sent flying into a deck chair.
My father rushed to her side. “Dani! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Jack,” she said ruefully. “I think I’ll sit down.” She stifled a yawn and settled back into her chair.
Whale Song: A Novel Page 6