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Seven Bundle

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by Various Orca




  Copyright © 2012 Orca Book Publishers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Seven (the series) bundle [electronic resource] / Eric Walters ... [et al.].

  (Seven (the series))

  Contents: Between heaven and earth / Eric Walters -- Lost cause / John Wilson --

  Jump cut / Ted Staunton -- Ink me / Richard Scrimger -- Close to the heel / Norah

  McClintock -- Devil’s pass / Sigmund Brouwer -- Last message / Shane Peacock.

  Electronic monograph.

  Issued also in print format.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0271-1 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0272-8 (EPUB)

  I. Walters, Eric, 1957- II. Series: Seven (the series) (Online)

  PS8329.1.S49 2012 jC813’.5408 C2012-905336-8

  First published in the United States, 2012

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012938211

  Summary: When David McLean, well-loved grandfather and avid adventurer, dies, he leaves behind an unusual will that outlines the seven tasks he has set for his seven grandsons.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Design by Teresa Bubela

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 5626, Stn. B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 468

  CUSTER, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  15 14 13 12 • 4 3 2 1

  CONTENTS

  Between Heaven and Earth

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Lost Cause

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Jump Cut

  REEL ONE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  REEL TWO

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  REEL THREE

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  REEL FOUR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Ink Me

  AFTER IT WAS OVER

  WHEN IT BEGAN

  YOU WONT BELEEV

  SHE HAD THE NEEDL

  AT DINNER

  IT WAS SPENCER. HEY! I SAID

  THE NEWS WAS ON

  THE SUN WAS BEHIND US

  MOM WAS IN A GOOD MOOD

  ALL AFTERNOON WE TOOK TURNS

  DIFFERNT

  I SENT JADEN AN OTHER TEXT

  WE DROVE AROUND

  I DREAMED

  MY RITING HAND IS HURTING

  JADEN NEW WARE TO GO

  THEY CRAMMED INTO THE CAR

  WE WERE ALL GOING TO THE MALL

  RAINY DAYS AT THE COTTAGE

  MY SIDE HURT.

  BEANS WENT INTO THE MALL

  GUY CLIMING OUT OF THE SUV WAS OLDER THAN US

  HAFF WAY ROUND A LOOP

  I WAS—I DUNNO WHAT I WAS

  WE LOOK RONG SAID JADEN

  YES SHE SAID

  NIKKI THE COP CAME BACK

  WE SAT

  IN THE MOVY

  I WAS DUN. I DINT WANT TO RITE ANYTHING EVER AGANE

  THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Close to the Heel

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Devil’s Pass

  PART ONE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  PART TWO

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY- FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  PART THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Last Message

  ONE

  MATTERS OF CONSEQUENCE

  TWO

  SECRETS

  THREE

  TESTS

  FOUR

  THE FIRST ENVELOPE

  FIVE

  VANESSA ENCHANTED

  SIX

  IN THE AIR

  SEVEN

  REVELATION IN THE COUNTRYSIDE

  EIGHT

  MY MOMENT COMES

  2

  NINE

  THE SECOND ENVELOPE

  TEN

  SEARCHING THE DEEPS

  ELEVEN

  MESSAGE FROM THE SEA

  3

  TWELVE

  THE THIRD ENVELOPE

  THIRTEEN

  CASING THE CHAUVET

  FOURTEEN

  THE KEY TO THE CHAUVET

  FIFTEEN

  INTO THE GREAT CAVE

  SIXTEEN

  THE MEANING OF LIFE

  LAST

&
nbsp; SEVENTEEN

  IN FLIGHT

  EIGHTEEN

  WAIT HERE

  NINETEEN

  A SIMPLE SECRET

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ERIC WALTERS

  BETWEEN

  HEAVEN AND

  EARTH

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  Copyright © 2012 Eric Walters

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Walters, Eric, 1957-

  Between heaven and earth [electronic resource] / Eric Walters.

  (Seven (the series))

  Electronic monograph.

  Issued also in print format.

  ISBN 978-1-55469-942-1 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-55469-943-8 (EPUB)

  I. Title. II. Series: Seven the series (Online)

  PS8595.A598B47 2012 jC813'.54 C2012-902585-2

  First published in the United States, 2012

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012938222

  Summary: DJ climbs Mount Kilimanjaro to scatter his beloved grandfather’s ashes.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Design by Teresa Bubela

  Cover photography by Getty Images

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 5626, Stn. B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO Box 468

  Custer, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  15 14 13 12 • 4 3 2 1

  For Nick Mednis, my kind, gentle father-in-law.

  He was a wonderful father and grandfather. All the

  grandchildren called him “Tampa” because the first to

  come along couldn’t pronounce Grandpa. He almost

  always had a smile on his face and often a simple beret on

  his head as he walked. The beret I gave the grandfather

  in this story was to honor my children’s Tampa. I took

  it with me when my son and I climbed Kilimanjaro.

  I think that would have made Tampa smile.

  CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ONE

  The room was large and lavish, with dark oak paneling. A big mahogany desk dominated the room; overstuffed leather chairs and couches encircled it. I’d never been in a lawyer’s office before. But then again, prior to a few days ago, I’d never been in a funeral home or attended a funeral either.

  There were twelve of us in the room—me, my mother, my brother Steve, my mother’s three sisters and two of my uncles, and my four cousins, Adam, Webb, Spencer and Bernard, who insisted on being called Bunny. These were the eleven people in the world who meant the most to me. The only person missing was the reason we were here—my grandpa. A shudder radiated through my entire body. I hoped nobody saw it. My mother reached out and placed her hand on mine.

  “It’s all right, DJ,” she said softly.

  Her eyes were so red from crying. I knew how much she was going to miss him. I knew how much we were all going to miss him. I just couldn’t afford to shed tears. Somebody had to be in control. That was my job.

  His death had been hard on everybody, but maybe the hardest on my mother. I’d heard my Aunt Vicky talking about how we must be “reliving” my father’s death. I thought that was a funny choice of words—how could a death be relived?—but I understood what she meant. That didn’t mean I agreed with her, just that I understood. My father had been gone for so long, since I was really little, that I hadn’t even been part of all of that. No funeral home, no visitation, no cemetery, no burial memories. I couldn’t relive what I hadn’t lived.

  With my mother’s whispered reassurance over, the room became completely silent again. It was almost as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Then again, since nobody seemed to be breathing, it wasn’t like we needed air. We all just sat there, in silence, waiting for the lawyer to arrive. I didn’t know what was in the will, and I didn’t care what Grandpa was leaving me, because he’d already left so many memories. But it was a term of his will that we all needed to be there, so we had no choice. It would have been disrespectful for us not to come.

  Of course that hadn’t stopped my brother from trying to get out of it. Typical. If it wasn’t his idea, he didn’t want any part of it. Mom had finally convinced him. If she hadn’t, I would have convinced him in a whole different way. Steve could be such a jerk sometimes. It was hard to believe that twins could be so different, but we rarely saw things the same way.

  The silence seemed so wrong. Here we were, waiting to hear the will of a man who didn’t believe in silence. He was always talking, telling stories, making jokes or singing songs. More than once, when he thought he was alone, I’d caught him humming or talking to himself. I’d even overheard him having both ends of a conversation and laughing at his own jokes. My mother always joked that he’d talk to a stone and get the stone to reply. That was just how he was. Wherever he went, he talked to complete strangers and they always talked back. He once said that strangers were just people he hadn’t become friends with yet. He was so relentlessly friendly, so happy, so full of life. He was so full of life.

  I hated seeing him in that coffin. The minister talked about how “lifelike” he looked lying there. That was garbage. That was the first time I’d ever seen him when he wasn’t moving about. He was emotions in motion. He would jokingly say that he was what hyperactive kids grew up to be. He was what I would like to grow up to be, but that wasn’t possible. For one thing, I don’t have his way with people. He made everybody feel so comfortable. Total strangers felt like friends, friends felt like family, and family…well, he just made us feel like we were the most important people around. All of us. When people talked about tolerance for others, he bristled. He didn’t believe in tolerance, he believed in acceptance.

  Of course, I knew that everybody who was born died eventually, but I guess I didn’t believe he would ever die. He told me he was going to live forever or die trying. He died trying. He was getting ready to put in a whole new garden. It was going to be more work than many men half his age could handle. He was looking forward to going to the cottage and having all of us up to visit. He kept saying he was going to water-ski this year. I knew he wasn’t; he just said that to get his daughters all worried. Ninety-two-year-old men shouldn’t be water-skiing.

  A few nights ago he went to bed and woke up dead. I almost chuckled. He would have liked that—the rhyme of bed and dead, a little limerick in the making. One minute he was so full of life and the next—nothing. Everybody told us it was a wonderful way to go. No suffering. So for him, I was happy. But it just made it harder for the rest of us. We hadn’t had time to adjust, to get used to the idea that he was gone. I still half expected him to walk into the room and—

  The door opened and everybody turned as a man in a suit walked in.

  “Good afternoo
n,” he said as he settled in behind the desk.

  There was a mumble of responses from across the room.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said. “My name is John Devine, and I’ve been David’s lawyer for twenty years. This is a very sad day, and I must admit that this was a day I didn’t expect to be part of. I’m much younger than David, but even so, I expected him to outlive me.”

  That comment generated smiles and nods.

  “He was a man of so much passion. It was a true joy to have known him.”

  That was my grandpa. He was a joy.

  “The terms of the will are both straightforward and, shall we say, most interesting.” Mr. Devine paused and smiled. “And with a most interesting twist.”

  Interesting was such an interesting word. It could mean almost anything.

  “Let’s begin with the more conventional parts,” he said. “All of David’s assets—his home, investments and cottage—are to be divided equally among his daughters.”

  That was fair, and he was always fair.

  “All of these assets, with the exception of the cottage, are to be liquidated and dispersed to the four heirs. The cottage’s ownership will be transferred to list his daughters as co-owners. It says, and I quote, ‘This was a place of so many great memories shared with my family that I wish it to be used in perpetuity by my grandchildren and their children and their children.’” He paused. “Is that all clear?”

  There was a murmuring of agreement and nodding of heads. I was happy. Some of my best memories were from the cottage. Weekends and summers spent with all of my cousins and our parents and Grandpa.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Devine said. “Now I need to set out the next part—the interesting part—of the will. A sum of money—a rather substantial sum—has been put aside to fund an undertaking…or I should say, seven undertakings.” He paused. “This is without a doubt one of the most unusual clauses that I have ever been asked to put in a will.”

  He looked slowly from person to person, deliberately pausing at each one. Everybody was staring directly at him, leaning forward in their seats. He certainly had everybody’s complete, undivided attention—even Steve’s.

  Just read the thing, I thought.

  “I know you are all anxious to hear about these undertakings. However, I cannot share them with all of you at this moment.”

  There was an eruption of confused protest.

  “Please, please!” he said, cutting the protest short. “You will all be fully informed, but not all of you will be informed at the same time. Some people will have to leave the room prior to the undertakings being read.”

  I knew where this was going; he was going to ask the grandkids to leave. That wasn’t fair. I understood the younger ones being asked to leave, but why me? I was almost eighteen—well, in a few months—and it wasn’t like I wasn’t mature enough to handle anything. And it wasn’t as if my father was here to support my mother—that was my role. I should be allowed to stay even if the other five grandsons had to leave.

 

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