Driftwood Read online

  Pushing it the last few feet into the water was the hardest part but we kept at it until we got it in. Then we hauled our shoes off, tossed them into the boat and sloshed through the water to its side. Getting in took some effort but we hoisted ourselves over the side and into it after a few tries. I found myself in the bottom looking at an enormous spider in a huge web under the front seat.

  “I’m older, so I sit in the front,” Ethan announced.

  He hadn’t seen the spider and I didn’t bother mentioning it. I moved out of his way, took the back seat, and grabbed my oar. It wasn’t as easy paddling in the water but we pushed off and drifted a few feet away from land, which was as far as we’d agreed to go.

  “There’s a bit of water coming in but don’t worry, that’s normal,” Ethan said. It was about the same time that I felt water underfoot. I grabbed my shoes before they got wet and sat them on the seat beside me.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Calm down, landlubber,” he said with a sneer. “I’ve been in old fishing boats a couple of times and I remember one of the fishermen saying that they all take on a bit of the sea. Or something like that. Anyway, it’s just a trickle.”

  I looked at the growing pool at my feet. “It’s coming in kind of fast,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll stop in a couple of minutes,” Ethan assured me.

  Except, it didn’t stop. It came in faster and faster, until even Ethan couldn’t pretend we weren’t going to have a problem if we didn’t do something about it.

  “We’ll have to bail some out until it quits coming in,” he said. He looked around like there might be a couple of pails handy, which obviously there weren’t. Then his eyes rested on his shoes and he picked them out of the pool in the bottom of the boat and tossed one to me.

  We used the shoes to scoop water out, but they didn’t hold much and our arms couldn’t work fast enough to keep up. No matter how frantically we bailed, the water level kept rising. What had started as an inch in the bottom was soon up around our ankles and there was no sign of it slowing down. By then, we both realized it was hopeless.

  “We’ll have to jump ship,” Ethan declared.

  “What about the boat?” I asked. “We can’t just leave it here.”

  “Don’t worry, nobody will know we took it,” Ethan said. That was when his head came up and he took a good look around for the first time since we’d started bailing. The bravado disappeared in a flash and all the colour drained from his face.

  While we’d been busy tossing water out of the boat with Ethan’s shoes, the tide had also been busy. We’d been drawn a good stretch from shore.

  “We’re going to have to swim in,” I said.

  But Ethan’s next words made it clear why his face had gone so white. “I can’t swim,” he said.

  “You can’t swim?” I didn’t doubt him, but at the same time it seemed I was hearing something that couldn’t be true.

  He shook his head. “I’m going to drown out here.”

  “You’re not going to drown,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “We’ll holler for help and keep bailing like crazy until someone comes.”

  “It’s coming in faster by the minute,” Ethan said. The terror on his face was awful.

  Then I had an idea. “Maybe the water isn’t even that deep,” I said. “Let me see one of those paddles.”

  He passed it to me. I leaned over the side and stuck it down as far as I could reach but it didn’t touch bottom. I couldn’t look at Ethan.

  “Help!” I yelled. “Somebody help us!” Ethan joined in and we yelled and bailed like mad. There was no sign that anyone had heard and I could see that Ethan was on the edge of complete panic.

  This worried me a lot because I could see it wouldn’t be long before the boat went completely under. I didn’t know if I was a good enough swimmer to pull Ethan to shore, but if he was in a panic, it would be risky even to try. He could end up drowning both of us. I had to calm him down.

  “Hey,” I said, “Don’t forget that your mom and dad have been in tighter spots than this and they got out all right. You can do it, too.”

  But Ethan turned to me, half dazed, and said, “My father’s in jail. And I have no idea where my mother is.”

  I stared at him, stunned. “But, all the stuff you told me—”

  “I made it up. My dad’s what they call a career criminal and my mother took off years ago. She phones once in a while and tries to tell me she misses me.”

  I felt a jolt, which, for a second or two, I thought was shock from what he’d just told me. Then I realized it was the boat.

  “We hit something!” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve run into a sand dune and got stuck—it’s like a little hill underwater. See? We’re not moving now.”

  It took a minute or two for Ethan to get it. We couldn’t sink anymore—and he wasn’t going to drown.

  We got yelled at. A lot.

  Well, first we got rescued. I don’t know how long that took—it seemed we were standing in the boat with water up to our knees for hours, but it was probably a lot less than that. We were finally able to wave down a couple in a small boat that was passing by not too far away. When they got as close as they could without hitting the dune, I swam over and they hauled me in. I told them Ethan couldn’t swim and the guy, who had a lot of muscles, swam over with a lifesaver and got him to the boat too.

  They took us to a nearby wharf, called our folks and waited for someone to show up and claim us. That turned out to be my dad. He shook hands with both of them a couple of times and told them he could never repay them. They said anyone would have done the same and they were just glad Ethan and I were all right. Dad got their names and asked for their phone number. He said he’d be the one in danger if he went back to his wife without it.

  We got in the car, then, and drove back to Schooner Point. Dad hardly got the car stopped before the doors were yanked open and we were yanked out. Mom got me and Gramps got Ethan. They nearly squeezed us to death and there were a whole lot of public kisses that I’d rather not talk about.

  As soon as the hugging and kissing were over with, the yelling started. I got plenty but Ethan sure got his share, too.

  “I’ve never been so upset in all my born days,” Gram sobbed and yelled all at the same time. Gramps asked him if he was trying to kill his grandmother. They took turns telling him he was all they had left to care about in the world and they loved him more than life itself and he was never to do anything so foolish again and a whole lot of other things. I couldn’t hear everything because my mom and dad were hollering stuff at me at the same time.

  Then they took each of us to our own cabins and fed us.

  ...

  I was feeling strange the next morning. It was as if the day before hadn’t really happened, even though I knew it had. My brain was busier than it had ever been—jumping from one thing to another like an overactive cricket of some sort.

  I stole a boat.

  We could have drowned.

  Ethan has no parents.

  Ethan is a liar.

  One thought that hadn’t occurred to me yet was that we were going to have to go face the boat’s owner and admit what we did. Well, it had sure occurred to my folks and Ethan’s grandparents. First thing after breakfast Dad and Gramps marched us to the place we’d taken the boat from and knocked on the door.

  I’d expected someone old, since the boat looked ancient, but the man who came to the door was younger than my dad. Soon as it swung open, Ethan spoke up.

  “We took your boat and it sank,” he said, “and we’re real sorry.”

  “Real sorry, sir,” I agreed.

  “Call me Gavin,” the man said. “I heard about the boat. Heard it could have ended a lot worse than it did, too.”

  “I almost drowned,” Ethan agreed, though he’d never had so much as a mouthful of water.

  “He would have taken me with
him,” I felt obliged to point out. “’Cause drowning victims panic.”

  Gavin nodded. “I’m glad neither of those things happened,” he said.

  “Well, young man, we owe you a boat, and we mean to make good on it,” Gramps said.

  “Forget it. It wasn’t worth much,” Gavin said.

  “Because it sank?” Ethan asked.

  “Well, not exactly,” Gavin told him. “Those old lap strake boats leak if they’re put in the water dry like that. They need to be wet down first, so the wood can swell and tighten. That’s why it sank. I’m just glad it was the only thing that did.”

  So was I.

  Dad and Ethan’s Gramps did their best to talk Gavin into letting them pay him something for the boat but he kept refusing. Then it seemed he had an idea.

  “How about we have the boys do some work to pay for it instead?”

  “Now that’s a fine idea,” Dad said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Shades of Tom Sawyer,” Gavin said with a smile. “I keep meaning to paint the old picket fence that goes around the property, but I never find the time.”

  We didn’t say so, but that actually sounded like it might be fun to me and Ethan. Of course, that was before we spent two whole days at it. Even with Gavin pitching in and helping now and then, we only finished the part of the fence that ran along the front of the property after all that time. Our arms were nearly ready to fall off and I couldn’t imagine many things that might smell worse than that paint.

  Gavin came along to put everything away at the end of the second day. “You boys are really getting the hang of this,” he said. “I bet you’ll have the rest of it done in four or five more days, tops.”

  Ethan looked like he wished he’d drowned after all and I was too tired and sore to speak.

  “Or—” Gavin paused. He seemed to be thinking. Then he said, “Instead of any more painting—what if you solemnly promised that you’d never take anything without permission again?”

  “We promise!” Ethan and I yelled at the same time.

  “Hold ’er now boys, this is serious. I want you to think hard about it. Because it’s a commitment for the rest of your lives. You have to be sure that you’ll be men enough to keep your word.”

  We thought hard, just like he said. And we were sure.

  ...

  Theo was finally back! Ethan and I had been to his place looking for him a few times with no luck, but now, with just a couple of days left before we’d be leaving, there he was.

  We raced up the bank, shouting and waving, and he came out to the edge of his lawn and waited for us with a big smile on his face.

  “It’s me, Theo! I’m Adam!” I said when I reached him.

  “Recognized your voice,” he said, chuckling. “And you must be Ethan.”

  “Right!”

  “Well, well. It’s good to see you boys. You’re a fine looking pair, I must say.”

  “Is it awesome being able to see again?” I asked.

  “It’s a blessing like nothing I can explain,” he said.

  We all went to the deck and sat down, though I was near bursting to show him the piece of driftwood we had for him. We’d brought it with us on one of the earlier trips when we were looking for him and instead of lugging it back and forth, we’d hidden it behind a big old tree stump to the side of his backyard.

  I know it was silly, but I was expecting an extra great story out of it. It was the biggest and nicest piece of driftwood I’d brought there all summer.

  It would have to wait a bit, though because Theo had something on his mind.

  “I hear you boys hijacked an old clinker and sunk ’er,” he said. “And nearly sunk yourselves at the same time.”

  “We were going to take it back,” I said. I hated for Theo to think I was a thief.

  “Yeah. We were just borrowing it,” Ethan added.

  “If you didn’t ask, you didn’t borrow it,” Theo said. Apparently, he knew the whole darned story. “But what I want to know is: Were you afraid?”

  “Real scared,” I said.

  “Not me,” Ethan said.

  Theo and I both turned to look at him.

  “I was terrified,” he finished.

  “I see you learned something from it then,” Theo said.

  “I sure did. I’ll never take anything that’s not mine again.”

  “Good, good,” Theo said. He smiled at Ethan. “That’s important. But didn’t you learn something else?”

  Ethan didn’t answer right away. When he did, his head dropped and he stared at the ground as he spoke.

  “You mean about telling the truth, don’t you?”

  Theo nodded.

  “Is that why you told us the story about that girl, Kiah, who made things up?”

  “I told you the story the wood gave me,” Theo said.

  “It felt like it was about me,” Ethan said.

  “Our hearts hear the whispers they need to hear,” Theo said. “If we are wise, we take them in.”

  “I tried not to—until the boat was sinking,” Ethan said. He looked up again. “Then it felt like my last chance.”

  Since Ethan had been brave enough to tell his story, I told them about Billy, and how the stories with the coyote and the fish had made me realize that I was the one who wasn’t being a good friend, even though I’d tried to put the blame on him.

  “I told him I’m sorry a couple of times, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to forgive me,” I said. “I check every day and he won’t answer my messages.”

  I felt a catch in my throat then, and decided it might be a good idea to change the subject.

  “The piece of plank you told me to keep—I still never figured that out. Can you give me a hint?”

  “Just as I told you before, it came to you for a reason,” Theo said. I waited, but he didn’t add anything else. After a bit, I told him we had a surprise for him. Ethan was closest to the tree stump where we’d hidden the new piece of driftwood, so he went and brought it over.

  Theo took hold of it and sat admiring it for a few minutes. He turned it over and looked it up and down.

  “This is a fine piece of driftwood,” he said. “Thank you, boys.”

  “But, where is it from?” I asked. “Tell us the story!”

  Theo’s thin fingers moved along the lines of the wood, pausing here and there. He closed his eyes for a moment or two.

  “I don’t seem to know where this one came from,” he said. He sounded sad, but there was no surprise in his voice.

  “Has that ever happened before?” Ethan asked.

  “Depends what you mean by ‘before’,” Theo said, “I never had the gift of seeing stories in the wood until I lost my sight.”

  Ethan and I exchanged worried looks.

  “I might as well tell you boys that I think the gift is gone,” Theo added. “I believe it left when I got my sight back.”

  “But, why?” Ethan asked.

  “Why?” Theo chuckled. “I think you need a wiser man than me to answer that. If I was guessing, I’d say that there’s a kind of balance, where if one thing is missing, something else fills its place, if you know how to find it.”

  “But, couldn’t you have both things?” I said.

  “I suppose that’s possible, but it doesn’t seem to be the case, at least not for me.”

  “What about the things you already saw?” I said. “Can you still see those stories?”

  “It doesn’t seem so,” Theo said. “I wondered about that earlier, and tested it out. There wasn’t so much as a hint of what I saw before.”

  He took another long look at the piece of driftwood in his hands, and said, “It may be that one kind of sight gets in the way of the other.”

  We let that sink in for a bit. Then I said, “It must be better to actually be able to see anyway, right?”

  “Sight is a wonderful thing,” Theo said. “But the main thing, as I see it, is to find the good in whatever your situation is. A perso
n can miss out on a lot if they spend their days complaining about what they’re missing, instead of appreciating what they have.”

  ...

  Ethan and his grandparents were already gone when Theo came to our cabin for supper the night before we left for home. After we’d eaten, he asked if he could look at Mom’s paintings. It took a while because he flipped through the canvases slowly, examining each one carefully—and there were quite a few. Mom had been busy ever since she got her confidence back.

  They were mostly local scenes from interesting points of view. The bay, trees, wildflowers, rustic homes—that kind of thing. Morning, afternoon and evening paintings, in different lights and weather conditions. I hadn’t realized how many she’d finished. There were some close-ups of bugs and small animals, and a few with people at a distance. One was on the beach and I could tell it was me and Ethan, even though we were a long ways off and walking the other way.

  “I’d like you to have a painting,” Mom told Theo when he’d finished looking. “Please choose whichever one you want.”

  He thanked her, and thumbed through them until he came to a canvas that had been painted on a rainy evening as daylight was fading. It was dark and hazy with blurred images. He smiled.

  “I’d like this one,” he said.

  Later, after we’d driven Theo back home, I heard Mom and Dad talking about the painting he’d chosen.

  “You’d think he’d have wanted something bright and cheery,” Mom said.

  “Especially after all the years he lived in that kind of darkness,” Dad agreed.

  But I think I understood.

  Unpacking the car when we got home didn’t take as long as it had at Schooner Point. That was because this time we didn’t have to sort it all out. We carried most of the stuff into the hallway and plunked it there for Mom to go through.

  “I’ll take it from here, men,” she told me and Dad. “I have a system for unpacking. Besides, I need to burn off some energy after sitting in the car all that time.”