Conversations with Saint Bernard
Page 30
Lewis made a face after doing so, but he still appeared happy.
“Lewis, you and I . . . we are quite the pair, aren’t we?”
Wuff.
Wuff. Wuff.
55
As dawn broke over the island, and the sun made an early and unexpected appearance, George was sipping on his fourth cup of coffee, watching out toward the harbor, watching for the splash of a dark fin or the curved back of a whale.
Instead, he heard the rattle and clank of an old vehicle pulling up, at full speed, requiring a screeching halt, stopping just outside his front door.
He heard the other door open and slam shut, and by the time he reached his door, it was already being yanked open.
“You’re alive. Thank God. You’re alive.”
Lewis, roused unexpectedly from a deep, emotionally drained sleep, rose with a clatter as well, barking and wuffing in surprise, trying to focus on what was happening.
“Lewis, look. It’s Irene.”
And the three of them were locked into a long, furry, sloppy, welcoming, joyous embrace.
And had they been looking, they would have seen the fluke of a whale’s tail slap at the placid water of the bay, sending a shower of sparkling drops to be illuminated by the rising sun.
But none of the three saw it, and none of the three cared they had missed it.
56
The reunion at eleven was much more predictable, but no less joyous.
“They’ll get the early ferry. Unless the ferry hits a whale or something, they’ll be here before lunch.”
Before Irene had appeared, George had already tidied up the RV, sweeping all the bits of letter and burning them outside, hiding the pistol, and putting away all he could put away.
George thought about taking the gun and pitching it into the dark waters of the Pacific, to be swallowed up by the cold depths. But he did not.
“I could sell it when I get back home. Waste not, want not.”
He zippered the case and reinstalled the small padlock and then hid it again under the small panel of wood above the cabinets.
“It is what an engineer does, I guess.”
When Irene showed up, Lewis was too overjoyed to go back to sleep, so the three of them hiked down to the water’s edge and sat, watching the sun rise over the bay. Lewis never got close to the water, not being an aquatic canine, but was content to chase the gulls when they swooped too close for his comfort.
Just before the time came for the Burdens to arrive, George took a brush to Lewis and tried to make him as presentable as possible.
As he combed him through, George whispered to his friend, “I’m going to miss you, Lewis. You were . . . the best friend, ever. Ever and ever.”
Lewis stood back and stared into George’s eyes, telling him, in his own nonverbal way, George meant the same to Lewis, he was the best friend a dog could ever have . . . except for, maybe, a small boy named Alex. But after him, he would be number two, for sure.
When the Burden’s SUV pulled up to the RV park and came to a stop, it was very difficult to tell dog apart from boy, such an intimate tangle of flesh and fur, of smiles and yelps of joy, of pure, unbridled elation and happiness.
Irene and George stood to one side, and the Burdens, Trudy and Lyle, stood to the other, watching Lewis attempt to envelop Alex and Alex attempt to envelop Lewis.
George introduced Irene to the Burdens, and her introduction only warranted a slightly arched eyebrow from Trudy, but the eyebrow was coupled with a welcoming smile. Later, after the celebration diminished, only slightly though, George asked everyone in for coffee.
“Alex looks taller,” George said.
“He is. And Lewis looks lighter.”
“He is,” George replied. “He was dethatched in San Francisco. They put a bow on him and wanted to do his nails in pink. But I had to draw the line somewhere.”
Alex and Lewis stayed outside while the adults sat inside and drank George’s instant coffee and told of their specific adventures of traversing America.
When Alex finally popped in, breathless, cheeks red, eyes bright, followed by Lewis, of course, he sat next to his mom and looked up at her and asked, “Did you ask him yet?”
“No, Alex. Maybe you should ask him.”
George was puzzled.
“Ask me what?”
Alex leaned forward, appearing quite earnest.
“Well, Mr. Gibson, you know I don’t have any grandfathers . . .”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Well, it’s true. And lots of other kids have them. And when we have Grandparents’ Day at school, I never have anyone to bring.”
George nodded.
“So . . . would you like . . . want to be my grandfather? You wouldn’t have to do anything. But you could come to my school and stuff. And you know Lewis. You could be both our grandfathers. Sort of.”
George waited for a moment to reply. He swallowed several times before speaking.
“Alex, I would love to be your grandfather . . . for school and stuff.”
“Swell, Mr. Gibson. It would be swell.”
And no one says swell anymore, do they?
Epilogue
The old red VW van led the way into Pocatello, Idaho. Irene used her turn signals religiously, so George was well aware of her intentions to depart the interstate, nearly a half mile before the actual exit ramp appeared. They had taken turns leading and following since leaving San Juan Island two days prior.
“You’re sure you want a slow VW bus to be part of your caravan? It is a long drive, you know,” Irene said.
“Only three thousand miles or so,” George replied. “We’ll get to know each other as we go. In small chunks. At rest stops and lunch.”
“And dinner?”
“Okay. Maybe dinner, too.”
Irene smiled.
“No sense in being overwhelmed right away.”
“Exactly.”
As they both parked and walked toward Elmer’s Restaurant, Irene took a chance and reached out and took George’s hand in hers. She felt a momentary hesitation, or confusion, then he allowed his fingers to relax and intertwine with hers.
“Swell,” she said.
“You know no one says swell anymore, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“I do. I do indeed.”
Group Discussion Guide
1. Let’s start with the big question that drives the book: Did God answer George’s prayer to allow his wife to die?
2. Does God hear the prayers of a person who does not claim to have faith?
3. We know that God uses all sorts of things to draw the lost to Himself. Do you think that God used Lewis, the St. Bernard, to reach George where no one else could have?
4. We all know, or have known, people who have suffered, or who are suffering. George’s daughter, Tess, saw that her father was troubled. Should she have done more for him? And what might that be? (She did, after all, get George connected with the Burdens—and with Lewis.)
5. There is a lot of movement in the book—people on the move—as if running away from something, rather than running toward something. Does this mirror any of your own experiences with pain and loneliness?
6. Alex seemed very mature for his age—and at peace with events in his life, such as losing Lewis for a long period. Why do you think Alex was so composed? Do you think his early medical problems had anything to do with his maturity?
7. Trudy Burden recognizes early on that Lewis has a special bond with people—that he listens intently and subtly nudges people toward the truth. There is no clear indication that Trudy has faith, but do you think this experience will draw her closer to God?
8. Why do you think George was so intent on drawing—and leaving something behind for his daughter? Might he feel guilty over not being involved in her life—or upbringing? It does seem that he deferred a lot to his wife.
9. There are characters in this book who seem to be crippled—or at least hobble
d—by guilt. And some of that guilt was decades and decades old. What advice do you think might have saved them all those years of being weighed down by guilt?
10. Lewis leads a life without much carryover from his past—and seems to have little concern with the future. He lives in the present, as much as possible. Is there a lesson humans can take from living in the “now” and not worrying about what might happen?
11. If Lewis was not with George, do you think George would have followed through with his initial plan of ending his life?
12. What advice would you give to George and Irene about facing their future together—seeing as how they have been damaged by long-term guilt and repressed secrets?
13. Do you think God uses animals—or even a dog like Lewis—to reach people who may shun “religion” in any other form?
14. People tend to give animals human emotions. Are any characters in the book guilty of that? If so, does it affect the outcome of the story?
15. Do you think Irene or the Burdens or George’s daughter, Tess, will ever know how close George came to committing that “ultimate act of anger”?
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