Driftwood Read online

  A cool breeze came up after a bit and I decided to go back to the cabin to see if my dad was done with his laptop. I’d been meaning to check on Facebook for Joey, and I thought I might as well look for the twins while I was at it—just for something to do. I never had a chance though, because Mom and Dad decided it was board-game night. We played Clue and Monopoly and by then I was ready for bed.

  I checked my iPod before I turned in for the night. There were no messages.

  First thing I noticed when I went outside the next morning was that there was a van pulled up in front of the only cabin that had still been empty the day before. I walked over, thinking there might be kids my age, but that hope disappeared when an old couple came out onto the deck.

  I was about to turn around when the woman spied me and yelled, “Hello, youngster!”

  I said, “Hello,” back and then stood there feeling foolish.

  “Lookit here, Mack,” she said, tapping on the old guy’s arm with the back of her fingers. “This young lad appears to be about Ethan’s age.”

  Mack squinted in my direction and made a grunting sound that could have meant anything.

  “Speak up, then! How old are you?” the woman asked.

  “Almost twelve,” I said.

  “Do you mean you’re eleven?” she said.

  I agreed that was the case.

  “If you’re eleven, just say so. Don’t be wishing your life away by adding on numbers.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ethan just turned twelve,” she told me.

  “I don’t know who Ethan is,” I pointed out.

  “Well, hold onto your hat and I’ll introduce you,” she said. “Land sakes, young people these days are impatient.” She turned toward the doorway and hollered, “Ethan! There’s someone here that wants to meet you.”

  A blond kid appeared in the doorway, peered at me for a second, and then came out. Older or not, he was a bit shorter than me.

  “Ethan, this here is—” The woman’s voice trailed off for a second and then she let out a sound that was a sort of cross between a laugh and a bark. “Look at me, I didn’t even ask your name. What is it?”

  “Adam,” I said, and she restarted her introduction.

  “Ethan, this is Martin. He’s eleven and he’s camping here too. Or, I think he is anyway. Are you staying here with your folks, Martin?”

  “It’s Adam,” I said. “And yes, we’re here until the end of August.”

  Ethan came across the deck and down the two steps. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Gram,” he said. “I gotta ask Adam about a couple of things.”

  He walked past me with hardly a glance. It seemed, from what he’d told his grandmother, that I was supposed to go with him so I fell into step and followed him through the centre of the park. When he reached the edge of the woods he just kept walking, but he stopped after a minute and plunked down on a fallen tree. I plunked down too.

  “So, you’re here for the month, are you?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We’ve been here since the start of July,” I said.

  He whistled. It was a long, mournful sound and I couldn’t help feeling a bit envious. I’ve never been any good at whistling.

  “You must’ve been bored outta your skull,” Ethan said. “Lucky for you, that’s about to change now that I’m here.”

  “It hasn’t been that bad,” I said. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t come right out and tell him I’d been having a great time. But I was interested in what he had in mind. There was something about him—the way he walked with a sort of swagger, and talked as if he was in charge. Not that I meant to let him boss me around.

  “You don’t have to pretend around me,” Ethan said. “This isn’t my first time around the block.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Not this exact place. But I go somewhere like this with my grandparents for a month every summer.”

  “It isn’t so bad here,” I said. Actually, I thought it was one of the nicest places I’d ever spent my vacation but I somehow couldn’t say so to Ethan.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Adam. Camping is great if you like being bored. But I gotta tell you, I’m the kind of guy who needs excitement. I hope you’re not against having fun.”

  “Of course I’m not,” I said.

  “All right, then. In that case, I guess you can hang around with me. Just so long as you don’t start acting like a girl.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. At the same time, I couldn’t help wondering what Ethan would have thought of Mackenzie and Makayla. I bet they could have changed his mind about girls pretty quick.

  “Okay, then,” Ethan said. He stood up and slapped himself in the stomach. “Gramps put a batch of biscuits in the oven just before you landed. They should be ready right about now.”

  “Your grandfather makes biscuits?” I asked. My grandfather likes to say that he and my grandmother are a perfect team—she likes to cook and he likes to eat.

  “Gramps worked as a baker his whole life,” Ethan said. “You saying there’s something wrong with that?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I was just wondering.”

  We walked the short distance back to the cluster of cabins but when I started to turn off at mine, Ethan stopped in his tracks and stared at me like I was crazy.

  “Where you going?” he asked. “We’ve gotta get to those biscuits while they’re still warm.”

  Since he hadn’t invited me, I didn’t quite see why he seemed so put out. Either way, I was glad to go along with him. The smell of the biscuits met us when we went through the door and, beside them on the table, were bowls of mashed strawberries and whipped cream.

  “You’re just in time, boys,” Ethan’s gram said. She was already spooning berries onto a biscuit, which she’d split across the middle and opened onto a plate. She added a big dollop of cream on top of it and passed me the plate and a spoon.

  “You’re not lactose intolerant, are you, Martin?” she asked. “I should have asked before I put that whipping cream on. Seems nowadays every second kid you run into has some kind of digestion problem.”

  “Thanks—and I’m fine,” I said. “But my name isn’t Martin, it’s Adam.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Ethan, get a couple of mugs for you and Martin. If he drinks tea, that is. Do you drink tea, Martin?”

  “Sure he does,” Ethan said. He grinned at me. “Don’t feel too bad about the name,” he said in an undertone. “Once Gram gets mixed up, that’s it. Believe it or not, my name is actually Paul.”

  “Seriously?”

  He answered that by bursting out laughing. Wise guy. But I got over being annoyed as soon as I took the first bite of biscuit and berries. It was right up there as one of the best things I’d ever eaten. I suddenly understood why Ethan had been in such a hurry to get back to his place while they were warm.

  We each had another one and drank our tea. I had mine with two spoons of sugar and enough milk to make it pale, and it was perfect. After that, Gram told us she was going to have to put the run to us while she finished getting things organized.

  I kept waiting for Ethan to reveal his big plans for excitement, but we mostly spent the day wandering around aimlessly. I figured he was probably one of those guys who goes around talking big but never really doing anything. Boy, was I wrong.

  Ethan showed up at my cabin the next morning just as I was chewing my last bite of toast. Mom and Dad hadn’t met him yet, so they put him through the usual introductions and then let him in. He sauntered over to the table and looked at me like I was an alien.

  “You’re not even dressed yet,” he said.

  “That will only take me a couple of minutes,” I told him.

  “Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Mom said as I headed toward my bedroom.

  “I know that, Mom,” I grumbled. I hurried into my clothes and brushed my teeth, hoping Mom wouldn’t pick today for what she calls a ‘spot check�
� to make sure I’ve done a good job. I could picture the smirk on Ethan’s face if he got to witness something like that.

  Luckily, she didn’t, and we were out the door and on our way. We walked down the road the opposite way we’d gone the day before, because Ethan said he wanted to scope out the place a bit more, whatever that meant. After we’d passed a bunch of houses he turned to me and asked, “So, this is seriously all there is around here? Just a bunch of houses and stuff?”

  “Pretty much,” I agreed.

  “Might as well head back, then,” he said. “This was a waste of time.”

  We went back as far as the cabins and then crossed the field and made our way down to the shore. I went ahead and told Ethan about Theo, even though I was a bit worried he’d find that boring, like everything else.

  “Theo can tell really cool things about where a piece of driftwood is from just by holding it in his hands,” I said.

  “Yeah, sure he can,” Ethan scoffed.

  That made me mad. “I guess you think you know everything,” I said.

  Ethan’s head turned and he gave me a look, but it wasn’t what I was expecting. He seemed, I don’t know, kind of interested, like he’d just come across some new bug he’d never seen before.

  “I wish I hadn’t forgot to bring my cell phone,” he said. “If I had it, I’d call my dad and ask him if he thinks that could be true.”

  “How would your dad know?” I asked.

  “He’s a scientist. An important one. So’s my mom. Why do you think I have to go places with my grandparents in the summer? Because that’s when my mom and dad travel all over the world doing research and stuff, that’s why.”

  “Where are they now?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to say. They go wherever their research takes them. Could be Iceland or Brazil or pretty near anywhere.”

  “My mom’s a painter,” I said, but that didn’t impress him like it had the twins.

  “That’s why she’s not travelling all over the place doing important research like my folks,” he said. “Anyway, I think my dad could straighten you out about this Theo guy. If I had my phone that is.”

  “Theo’s nice,” I said.

  “Nice, schmice,” Ethan answered. “That doesn’t mean he’s not making up the stuff he tells you.”

  “It sounds real,” I said.

  “I’ll just have to go hear one for myself,” Ethan said. “How far away does he live?”

  “It’s a bit of a walk down the shore,” I said. “But we’d have to find a piece of driftwood before we went. Sometimes that takes a while, especially since I’ve been checking the shore around here pretty regular.”

  “Why kill ourselves scrounging for one?” Ethan said. “I saw some driftwood when we were kicking around yesterday. When I check a place out, I take it all in. It’s probably in my blood. Come on.”

  Curious, I followed him along the bank. We could see the backs of the houses we’d passed the day before, and I noticed he was peering through the trees at them. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed.

  “There!” he said. Then he turned and put a finger to his lips. “Keep quiet while I go get one.”

  I stood there, still confused, as Ethan crept toward one of the houses. He crouched a bit and looked around as he moved closer and closer. That was when I saw it—a flower garden at the side of the deck. There were stones around the edge of the garden and four or five pieces of driftwood arranged among purple and yellow flowers.

  I wanted to yell at him to forget it, that he couldn’t go around stealing things, but my voice seemed frozen. I took a step or two toward him but by then he’d snatched the closest piece and was hurrying back toward me.

  “Come on!” he said as he zipped past and disappeared down over the bank.

  With my heart pounding as hard as it would have if I’d stolen it myself, I raced down the bank and caught up with him on the shore. He was clutching the wood, bent over and panting, but when he got a glimpse of my face he burst out laughing.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to weird out over an old hunk of branch,” he said.

  “It belonged to the people in that house.”

  “It’s not like I stole their car,” Ethan said, still grinning. “I thought you were up for some excitement. I guess you were lying about that.”

  “Was not,” I said.

  “Well, then, quit going on about a worthless old chunk of tree. Now, where’s this guy’s place? I can’t wait to hear his fairy tale.”

  I suddenly wasn’t the least bit keen about taking Ethan to Theo’s place. “Not if you’re going to be rude or make fun of his story,” I said.

  “Calm down,” Ethan told me. “What do you think, I’m that big a jerk that I’m going to be mean to an old guy?”

  I gave him what I hoped was a menacing look as a final warning, and started off toward Theo’s place. One thing I was glad about was that Theo knew he didn’t have to pay anything anymore. Without even thinking it over I knew that Ethan would have taken the money—for a stolen piece of wood. I couldn’t even imagine how mad that would have made me.

  Usually, it seems like a long walk to Theo’s place, so I was surprised how fast we got there. I saw him as soon as our heads cleared the top of the bank, sitting in his usual spot on the back deck.

  “Hi Theo,” I called. “It’s me, Adam.”

  “Adam—hello!” he answered. “Come right along.”

  “This is Ethan,” I said as we reached the deck. “He’s here camping with his grandparents.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ethan,” Theo said. He stuck his hand forward and Ethan shook it and said he was pleased to meet Theo too. So far so good.

  “I brought a piece of driftwood for you,” Ethan said, putting it into Theo’s hands. “Adam says you collect it.”

  “That I do,” Theo agreed. His fingers moved over the wood, pressing, tapping gently, gliding along as he drifted with it, into its past.

  When he spoke, it seemed I could hear the whisper of waves in his voice.

  THE MOUNTAIN ASH

  This fine specimen comes from a tree called Eucalyptus regnans, better known as the mountain ash of Australia. This particular mountain ash was no ordinary tree. Many years ago it was the tallest tree in the world, even surpassing the glorious height of the magnificent California redwood, although the redwood is normally the tallest of all trees.

  This bit of limb was part of a tree that once lived in the province of Tasmania. Tasmania is part of Australia, but it is not on the mainland. It is an island near the south-eastern part of Australia. There are many beautiful places on our planet, and Tasmania is certainly one of them.

  When the moon was full and round, and it rose over the land, this tree seemed like a hand, reaching up to wave hello. The aborigine people who lived nearby used the tree as a meeting place and called it the Cloud Tree because of the way it stretched up into the sky.

  The Cloud Tree was part of the local lore, and there were several stories about why it had grown so tall—more than forty feet higher than other mountain ash.

  One such story told of how a maiden had wept beside the tree when her betrothed was missing at sea. Her tears were so pure and full of love that it had caused a great growth spurt. The tree grew so tall that one day, when the sun’s angle was just right, it cast a shadow over the waves, and that shadow reached all the way to her sweetheart’s boat. He was able to follow it and make his way home at last.

  Another story told of a mother who watched daily from the treetop for her son’s boat to return from a long journey. As the days passed, her worry grew and one day she placed a spell on the tree, so it would grow taller and taller, allowing her to see further. The spell worked, but the son’s boat never returned. One day, the heartbroken woman climbed the tree with her very last breath of hope, and disappeared forever into its branches.

  These and other stories were told again and again over the years, but there was only one person on the whole island who knew the tr
uth. Her name was Toora, and she was The Keeper of Secrets. Toora knew that the tree had not grown from a maiden’s tears or a mother’s spell. It grew because the heartbeat of the people joined the earth and sun in the soil of that one, special place. It grew with a purpose, and that purpose was to tell the world that this was a place like no other.

  Toora kept her secrets wisely. Because everyone knew that she was The Keeper of Secrets, it was not unusual for those around her to try to find out some of the things she knew. They would pester, flatter, and even try to trick her into telling, but she kept her own counsel. Toora remembered the words of her beloved grandfather, who had passed the role down to her.

  “Watch the eyes of those who come with questions,” he told her. “The eyes will tell you if the question is asked for good.”

  “How will the eyes tell me this, Grandfather?” Toora had asked.

  “You will see a light shining in the eyes of those who seek answers. Red means the information they seek will be used in anger, green tells you the question comes from envy, deep violet rises from pride and golden yellow from greed.”

  “And the light that comes from good?” Toora had wanted to know.

  “Look for light that is transparent. It has nothing to hide,” Grandfather had told her.

  Toora had been wise in her duties as The Keeper of Secrets, but she knew her days were coming to a close. It was time to pass her knowledge to a new generation. Toora had given much thought to whom she should choose for this role. At last, she settled on her great-niece, Kiah.

  Kiah was a quiet, solitary child. When Toora sent for her, she went obediently and listened solemnly as her great-aunt told her that she was to become The Keeper of Secrets. Her training began immediately and continued for two years, until Toora passed away.

  At that time, the people of the island held a great feast to bid farewell to Toora and to welcome Kiah to her new role. Kiah’s heart was warm and happy as good wishes flowed to her ears. Before long, she overcame her shyness and began to enjoy her new popularity.