The Big Snapper (4 page)

“It could still happen,” Jake growls, glaring after her.

Dragging their poles behind them, the boys return to the raft. After pulling it higher into the woods so it is safe between the trees, they follow Becky.

It is much easier climbing down the hill, but more difficult to listen to Becky, who seems to have more and more to say. Eddie suspects that her feelings about him and his family, and their home, have been accumulating and that her parents have been keeping her tongue in check. But after her run-in with the root, she's like a top wound tight and left to spin until it stops.

Jake doesn't feel the need to be as polite as Eddie. He asks if she is always such a motormouth.

She ignores him.

Jake walks ahead of them down the path. Becky asks Eddie where his father is.

“He went to the mainland, a year ago.”

“And?”

“And,” Eddie shrugs, “he hasn't come back.”

He feels her eyes on him. “Well,” she says, “I can't imagine living way out in the boondocks either if I had the choice. There's nothing to do and no place to go. And you're missing so many of the necessities. Like a computer. Where do you look stuff up? And how do you talk to your friends?”

Eddie is home in time to help Granddad with the boat. He secures it to its mooring and then lifts the gear and baskets to the wharf. Granddad has caught only two small rock cod.

“Takes me forever to bait that hook,” he says apologetically to Eddie.

Eddie flips the lid on the basket. “Don't worry about it. I'll be with you tomorrow.” He keeps pace with Granddad as he shuffles across the
deck. Granddad stops briefly when he hears the sound of Eddie's sneakers, all squishy and wet.

“You fall off the path into the lake?”

Eddie frowns, “I don't want to talk about it.”

Granddad lays an arm on his shoulder. They step from the wharf and start along the dirt path leading to the cabin.

“I've been thinking, Granddad.” Eddie shifts the fishing rod in his hand. “Do you think I need a computer to talk to Jake?”

Eddie wakes up to the sound of rain beating hard against the roof. He glances at Granddad's empty bed then at the clock on the bookshelf across the room. He is surprised at how late it is. He hopes Granddad hasn't gone fishing without him. The Northorpes are going to the museum today so he is free of Becky, but he'd forgotten to tell Granddad.

Eddie dresses quickly. He finds Granddad sipping tea next to the fire in the sitting room. He doesn't look at all like he's prepared to go fishing. His legs are wrapped in a blanket and he wears his winter cardigan even though it is the end of June. “Good morning,” he says on seeing Eddie.

“You didn't wake me up. Somebody will get our fishing spot.”

“I thought maybe we could use a day off. Particularly you. You are on holidays, aren't you? Besides, it's raining.”

Eddie cannot remember a time when Granddad has been stopped by a little rain. If rain played a part in their decision to go fishing, they would spend ninety percent of the year in the cabin. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, he's sure,” Mom answers from the kitchen. She is rolling dough with determined strokes. “Your granddad's not feeling well today. He overdid it yesterday. He's getting too old to be gadding about in boats and lugging in fish all by himself. He's spending the day right there, and I'm going to see to it that he doesn't move.”

Eddie looks to Granddad for confirmation. He smiles apologetically, telling Eddie that he has already resigned himself to do as Mom says.

“What about working on the boat?” Eddie asks.

Again, Mom answers for Granddad. “Nope, he won't be doing that either.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Eddie, come and eat your cereal. Then why don't you go see what Jake's up to today?”

Eddie is terribly disappointed. Two days in
a row he's missed fishing. All spring he'd been looking forward to the summer and fishing every day with Granddad. He's spent hours imagining what they might catch.

After he eats, Eddie splashes down the path that leads beneath the trees between the cabins. The rain is not falling as heavily as it had sounded to Eddie from inside the house, but the world around him is certainly drenched. He stiffens when water from the dripping branches makes its way down his collar and the back of his neck.

Jake lives farther along the shore, closer to the village than the Jamesons. He lives with his older sister, Peggy, and her husband, Fred. Jake's father was drowned in a terrible storm when Jake was only two. His mother lives in the village in a tiny house next to the General Market. She is very old for a mother, much older than Eddie's own mother. When she began to have trouble caring for Jake, Peggy and Fred invited him to live with them. Eddie likes Fred very much. He is good to the two boys, and he's always right there when Granddad needs help moving something heavier than Eddie can lift. Today, Fred and Jake are delivering a load of firewood to Jake's mother.

Jake and Eddie carry the split cedar to Fred who stands in the back of the truck and piles it up. He covers it with a tarp, so that pieces don't fly into the windshields of vehicles behind them, and they crowd into the cab. The truck bounces in the deep ruts now overflowing with water. Fred laughs and tells them that people on the mainland pay big money for rides like this.

When they arrive at Mrs. Greenshaw's house, they unload the wood into the woodshed. Eddie gets a sliver in the palm of his hand. Mrs. Greenshaw has him sit at the kitchen table.

“Now hold still, Eddie. Just watch those two out the window and make sure they don't get into trouble.”

Through the kitchen window, Eddie watches Jake and Fred stacking wood. He sees Mrs. Greenshaw's dog, Flounder, steal a stick of fire-wood from the shed. Fred sees it too and runs after him, but he slips and falls on his butt on the wet grass. Flounder drops the stick and wags his tail, waiting for someone to chase him. He seems to think that by falling down Fred is trying to get out of the game. Eddie laughs. Mrs. Greenshaw has removed the sliver with tweezers. She is rubbing Eddie's palm with
some kind of berries pounded into a paste and mixed with oil.

“There, now. That should heal in no time. Now tell me, what's wrong that you aren't fishing with your granddad today?”

Mrs. Greenshaw knows Granddad fishes every day and that when school is out, Eddie goes with him. She knows the routines of everyone in the village and when they're not followed she likes to know why.

“He's not feeling very well.”

“Oh? What's wrong with him?”

“He's worn out. Mom says he overdid it fishing by himself yesterday.”

Mrs. Greenshaw holds a finger before her lips and frowns. “How is his walking?”

“Still slow.”

She turns and ponders her shelf of bottles and jars. Mrs. Greenshaw makes ointments and medicine from plants, berries and roots in the same way that her Haida ancestors did. Jake and Eddie often go with her into the woods to help search for what she needs. They dig up spruce roots and pick licorice fern, which is good for colds and sore throats. They gather wild crab apples, devil's club and fireweed. Mrs. Greenshaw scrapes or boils
the bark and pounds the berries. She's always got pots and kettles simmering on the stove. She now reaches for a jar of something that looks like ash.

“Tell your granddad to add a good heaping spoonful of this to his tea three times a day.”

Eddie takes the jar and thanks her.

“How is his shaking?”

“It seems to be getting worse. He only caught two rock cod yesterday because he has trouble getting the octopus on the hook.”

“Hmm. Well, how are his stories? Is he still telling stories?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good.” Mrs. Greenshaw nods. “As long as he's telling stories there's nothing to worry about. When those stop, that's when we'll get concerned. Go get Fred and Jake now; I've made fish soup for lunch.”

It is still raining after dinner, and the Northorpes, who returned in the late afternoon from the museum, are restless. Well, it's mostly Becky that can't sit still. The family is sitting with Eddie and Granddad by the fire in the sitting room. Granddad is sipping tea with a teaspoon of the
ash mixed in it. Mom and Grandma are in the kitchen making jam. The air in the cabin is not only damp, it is now sweet and heavy from the boiling fruit.

Mrs. Northorpe has just commented on how nice it is to listen to the rain and be able to read a book without any distractions. Mr. Northorpe is busy studying an old map of the island Granddad had found. Becky is squirming in a chair, making a cat's cradle with the cord to her headphones.

“I can't even go for a walk,” she complains.

Eddie doesn't understand what's preventing her. So she gets a little wet. Mr. Northorpe obviously has the same thought. Without glancing up from the map, he says, “Why not?”

Becky drops the headphones. “In case you haven't noticed, Dad, it's raining. Besides, it's dark and I might run into a bear.”

“I don't think that's very likely. Why don't you ask Mr. Jameson what the chances are of that?”

Eddie turns to Granddad at the same time as Becky does. It has bothered him to see his grandfather sitting in the same place all day, nodding off, while the fishing boats came and went. It has worried him how little interest Granddad showed as each fisherman unloaded
his catch on the wharf. He remembers what Jake's mom had said about Granddad and there being no need to worry as long as he is telling stories. He wonders how Granddad will answer Becky.

“Well, I did see a large bear late last fall. He passed behind this row of cabins more than once.”

“Oh, what type of bear?” Mr. Northorpe asks.

“A black bear. A big one. Close to eight hundred pounds, I'd guess. I would imagine he'd stand about twelve feet if he was on his hind legs.”

“Really?” says Becky. “But that's taller than this ceiling. It's taller than the two of you together.”

Mr. Northorpe laughs. “I think Mr. Jameson may be exaggerating. I don't think black bears get that big. Now, maybe a grizzly. Are you sure it wasn't a grizzly?”

Granddad sips his tea slowly as he considers this. “Well, maybe. I suppose I could have made a mistake.”

Eddie can't believe what he is hearing. Granddad could tell a grizzly from a black bear a hundred feet away in the dark. If there
were
any wild grizzlies on Graham Island, which there are not.

“What happened to him?” Becky asks.

Again, Granddad is slow to answer. “I don't know. He just stopped coming around.”

“Oh,” says Becky. “Well, there you go. Now I really can't go for a walk. If anyone wants me I'm going to be in my room listening to music.” Becky positions the earphone plugs in her ears, bounces to Eddie's room and slams the door.