Whale Song (27 page)

One last time I kissed her.

Then I draped myself across her. I stayed like that for a long time, praying for escape. The anguish I felt was so intense that I wanted to die alongside my mother. But instead my mind retreated into a fog.

Suddenly, the door opened.

My father stood paralyzed and speechless, unable to comprehend what I had done. He forced himself toward the bed, calling my name, but I was lost in a fugue-like state. He peeled me away from my mother’s lifeless body and gently removed
the cord from my hand. He raised his tear-streaked face and his penetrating gaze made me shiver.

“
Sarah,” he moaned in an anguished voice. “What have you done?”

The horror in his voice made me do the only thing I could.

I ran.

When I finished telling him what I remembered, my father didn’t say a word. Instead, he glanced over my shoulder and I saw every emotion cross his face. He had taken a terrible risk and had paid for my actions with almost a decade of his life.

“
What now?” I asked apprehensively.

“
We go on with our lives.”

I glanced at the steel bars in the window. “When the truth comes out will they lock me up?”

He shook his head. “You were a traumatized child back then. Why do you think I didn’t say anything all these years? No one needs to know, Sarah.”

“
But
I
know the truth!”

“
The truth doesn’t matter now. Except to you and me.”

A bouquet of lavender roses had been left on my doorstep. I picked it up and inhaled the fragrant scent. I was about to read the card when I heard the soft scrunch of footsteps in the grass.

“
They’re from me.”

I spun on my heel.

Adam leaned against a tree. “For our
one week
anniversary.”

My breath caught in my throat and before I realized what I was doing, I threw myself into his arms. I felt his heart pounding―beating like a native drum. His lips caressed my hair while his lean body pressed intimately against me.

We stayed like that for a long time.

“
Well, well,” he said finally. “That’s
some
way to greet a guy. You do that to all the guys who come knockin’?”

I laughed and dragged myself away. “Just the cute ones.”

Unlocking my front door, I pushed it open and we stepped inside. I dropped my keys on the table by the door, then followed Adam into the living room. He sat on the couch and pulled me down beside him.

“
How did it go?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“
What do you mean?”

“
With your dad. I know you visited him today.”

I chewed my bottom lip. “How―?”

“
Your dad and I’ve been exchanging letters for the past few years,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s been a mentor to me. He actually got me the temp job at
Sea Corp
. If I had a question, your father would advise me. In fact, when my boss told me I could name the new schooner, I wrote to your dad to see if he had any suggestions.”

I wove my fingers through his. “Did he?”

He nodded. “He suggested a great name. One that reminded him of your mom.”

I waited.

When he remained silent, I nudged him. “Well, what is it?”

He spread his arms along the top of the couch, stretching like a wildcat. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Trying not to laugh, I held a pillow above his head. “Tell me.”

He pursed his lips and endured a soft thump to the head before grabbing the pillow from my hands. Then he leaned over and kissed me soundly on the lips.

During the next week, I plunged headfirst into waters I had never dared to swim. Never before had I allowed myself to be vulnerable, to love someone openly and honestly. Adam awoke in me feelings that I never knew I had. He was my salvation.

I struggled daily with the guilt that I felt regarding my father. Eventually I realized that he was right. Even if the truth were to come out it would make no difference. We had both suffered and paid―in our own way.

It was time to move on.

On the day of my father’s release, Adam drove me to the gates of the prison. I felt apprehensive about my father’s future.

What will he do? Where will he live?

Glancing up at the bleak prison walls, I realized that I would never have to lay eyes upon Matsqui Institute again.

Adam squeezed my hand gently. “It’s going to be fine.”

The old metal gates squealed open and my father stepped out into the sunlight. He looked around uncertainly until he saw us.

“
Hey,” he greeted us, hauling a small suitcase in one hand.

I rushed from the car and gave him a hug.

Adam shook my father’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Jack.”

I studied my two men for a moment. Then I grabbed the suitcase and threw it into the trunk. Sitting in the back seat, I patted the space beside me and smiled at my father. “Get in.”

He hesitated. “Give me a minute.”

Under a brilliant blue sky, he closed his eyes, sucked in a breath and stretched his arms to the heavens.

I could only imagine what my father must have felt.

Free at last.

We all were.

My father moved in with me.

“
Just until I find an apartment,” he said.

On his first second day of freedom, we sifted through the boxes that were stored in my basement. There were numerous cartons containing my parents’ belongings.

“
When you find your own place,” I said. “You can take those with you, Dad.”

“
You’ll want some of your mom’s things too.”

He rummaged through a large crate and I saw him secretly pocket a few items. I left him in the basement, surrounded by half-opened cartons and bittersweet memories. In the kitchen, I made some strawberry tea and wandered about the house aimlessly.

“
Sarah?”
My father’s voice echoed from the basement.

I heard his footsteps thump up the wooden stairs. When he reached me, he had something in his hands. A painting wrapped in a fragment of old fabric.

“
Mom wanted you to have this.”

He peeled off the cloth.

The vision of a family of killer whales, swimming in a lush lagoon made my eyes water. A crystal waterfall flowed from the forest above like a silky sheet of satin.

“
This was the last painting Mom ever made,” my father said softly. “And she painted it for you.”

He handed me the painting. “She named it…on the back.”

I turned it over and let out a gasp.

Whale Song.

For Sarah, with all my love.

I thought of the whale that had saved me, its smooth body nudging me up to the surface for air. I recalled the whale pod frolicking in the bay, their songs of life transmitted through the depths of the ocean.

Whale Song.

I smiled, thinking how appropriate it was. I remembered my mother’s smiling face while she listened to the mournful sounds of the killer whales in the bay.

The phone rang, abruptly shattering my thoughts.

It was Adam and he seemed excited.

“
Sarah, is your dad there?”

With a shrug, I passed the receiver to my father.

I disappeared into the kitchen while they spoke.

“
We still have something we need to do,” my father said to me, after hanging up.

He opened a small box that he’d retrieved from the basement.

“
Mom’s urn!” I cried.

We stared at the urn.

My father bit his lip. “Mom wanted us to―”

“
I remember,” I interrupted gently. “She wanted us to throw her ashes into the ocean.”

He nodded. “Adam’s taking us to Bamfield tomorrow.”

I placed the urn in the center of the table with my treasures.

“
I agree, Dad. It’s time to let her go.”

After supper, my father and I reminisced long into the night. The journey back to Bamfield rested heavily on our minds. I fell asleep shortly before dawn. I dreamt of the Sea Wolf―both whale and wolf―guiding me home at last.

Chirping birds argued outside my window and I groaned. I opened my eyes, blinked at the clock and gasped.

I had slept in.

I jumped out of bed. “Bamfield, here I come.”

Stomping downstairs in my bathrobe, I followed the scent of fresh brewed coffee. I made it as far as the living room where I came to an abrupt halt.

I had arranged my precious treasures―the eagle’s feather, the Sea Wolf totem, the silver wolf statue and the repaired ornament of the mama whale and her baby on a table in front of the window. But there were some new additions to her memorial table. My father had unearthed the urn containing my mother’s ashes. Next to it sat her photograph.

“
Mom.”

She stared at me―beautiful and alive.

In the window, a small black pouch hung from a string attached to the curtain rod. It was the pouch that Chief Spencer had given my father. ‘
Hang this in your home as a sign that good spirits are always welcome.’

I caressed my mother’s photo, recalling Nana’s wise words from so long ago.
“You have to be willing to release her or she’ll be trapped between both worlds, Hai Nai Yu.”

“
I let you go, Mom,” I whispered. “Now it’s your turn.”

In the kitchen, I let out a hoot when I found my father dressed in a frilly flour-coated apron, a flipper in one hand. Pancakes were heaped on a plate on the counter and bacon sizzled in a frying pan. He had made breakfast for an army.

He handed me a cup of coffee and a plate. “Eat up, Honey-Bunny. Adam will be here in half an hour.”

I dug in, famished and touched by his use of my old nickname. Then I went upstairs to get changed and ready for a day that was long overdue.

When Adam arrived, he shook my father’s hand and kissed me lightly on the forehead. I think my father was a bit surprised.

“
Uh, Sarah,” he murmured as we headed outside. “Are you and Adam, uh…you know.”

I grinned and threw an arm around him. “Yeah, we are.”

“
Are what?” Adam said, holding the car door open for me.

I shook my head, laughing, then climbed into the car.

During the drive to Vancouver Island, I admired my two favorite men. My father had blond hair and intense blue eyes while Adam was tall, tanned, dark-haired and had the most amazing golden eyes I’d ever seen.

My Adam.

My Wolf.

Bamfield hadn’t changed much in the past decade. The shop where Goldie’s mother had sold her hand-woven baskets had been turned into a small strip-mall, but
Myrtle’s Restaurant & Grill
was exactly where we had left it, although the building had expanded. When we drove down the main street, it was as if I were eleven years old again.

“
Is our house still the same?” I asked Adam.

He nodded and squeezed my hand. “
Almost
the same.”

I pulled down the visor and glanced at my father in the mirror. He sat in the back seat of the vehicle holding a box in his lap. He was completely immersed in his surroundings…and his thoughts.

I flipped up the visor and left him to his memories.

As we reached
231 Bayview Lane
, the gravel driveway meandered into the trees away from the shoreline. I recalled the feeling of dread, that
knowing
that my life would change the moment we drove into the trees.

My life
had
changed. Forever.
Destiny…

The house appeared and I let out a gasp.

Our old home had been turned into an art gallery.
Island Arts
.

“
Mr. and Mrs. Joseph couldn’t bear to live in it afterwards,” Adam said softly. “When they came back from Florida, they donated it in honor of your mom.”

His quiet explanation made my heart ache. I know my father felt humbled too.

“
Let’s take a look,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

We climbed out of the car and went inside the gallery.

I immediately recognized the old wood stove and the wooden shelf above it. Only one item from my past remained on that shelf―the eagle’s feather. On the wall above it was a small gold plaque, recognizing my mother’s life and honoring her as the inspiration for the gallery.