River Boy by Tim Bowler

Author:Tim Bowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
Published: 2001-02-17T05:00:00+00:00

He’d exhausted himself completely and slept through the afternoon. Jess sat at the kitchen table, playing solitaire, while Dad and Mom read magazines. She felt an air of waiting over them all.

Waiting for Grandpa to wake up; or perhaps to fall into that final sleep from which there was no waking. She didn’t know. He snored as he slept, an uncomfortable honking sound that seemed to pervade the whole cottage and take away all restfulness. Yet still, mingled with the snores, she heard the tinkling river, the ever-present music she had come to listen for, constantly.

In the evening, Alfred came again, clumping in through the door, his large head almost touching the lower beams of the cottage. He asked no questions about Grandpa’s reappearance but simply said he was glad there had been no accident; then he sat down with Jess at the kitchen table and played cribbage with her, and they all went on waiting for Grandpa.

At eight he awoke and, to her slight embarrassment, called for her alone.

She went through and sat down by the bed. He reached out with difficulty and took her hand. “Stick with me tomorrow. I’ve got some idiot doctor coming out to see me and he’s bound to try and make me agree to go into the hospital. ”

“You should go into the hospital. ”

“Don’t you start. ”

“But you should. You know you should. It might not be for very long, just to get you over the worst. ”

“If I go into the hospital, I won’t come out again. Except as a corpse. Your mom had no right to call the hospital. ” He closed his eyes. “Is that Alfred’s voice I can hear? ”

“Yes. ”

“Then you’d better bring the old fool in. Seeing as he’s hobbled all this way again. ”

“Why don’t you like him? I know he talks a lot, but he’s nice, really. ”

Grandpa opened one eye and glanced at her. “I like him well enough, but I’m not telling him that. Go on, bring him in or they’ll think I’m being difficult again. ”

He was being difficult again, but she said nothing, fetched Alfred, and left the two of them together. Dad had made some soup, and she sat down at the kitchen table again, cleared the cards away, and drank it in silence, aware of Mom and Dad watching her. After a while Dad spoke. “What’s on your mind, Jess? ”

She looked across the table and tried to organize her thoughts.

There were so many images in her mind now, so many strange feelings she could not come to terms with; and all of them, in one way or another, centered on Grandpa.

“Don’t tell us anything you don’t want to, ” said Dad. “Just tell us you’re OK. ”

She saw the anxiety on his face and quickly answered. “I’m OK, really. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve just got lots on my mind. ”

Something was drawing her, she didn’t know what; something deep, something powerful, drawing her as irresistibly as the river itself was being drawn into the sea.

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