Jess and the Runaway Grandpa Read online

  Jess shook her head in astonishment. A pitcher of water, a stack of cups, and Ernie. He wasn’t trying to jump on the road. He was water-bombing cars like some stupid kid.

  “Oh, Ernie,” she laughed in relief. Her pounding heart slowed.

  He was standing out of reach, staring at her suspiciously, his head cocked to one side like a robin with a worm. Then he tiptoed back to his jug and stack of cups.

  “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said. “When I was a school principal over there.” He pointed behind Jess towards her school. He bent and filled another cup to the brim with water and ice cubes, stepped on the lower railing, and tossed the cup onto the roof of a big shiny black car.

  “Isn’t it against the law?”

  “Children are so law-abiding.” Ernie shrugged and tossed another cup of water. Ice cubes flew through the air with the sunlight glinting on them. Water spilled like raindrops. Jess leaned over the railing and stared at the paper cups rolling around the road, amazingly intact, until a giant furniture truck smashed them.

  “Here, try it, you’ll like it.” Ernie handed Jess an overflowing paper cup. One ice cube escaped and skittered along the wooden planks underfoot.

  Jess held the cup in her hand, not knowing what to do. She sipped the water, then drank it in one gulp. Ernie meanwhile was leaning further out over the railing. He dropped two more cups. One hit the roof of a red sports car.

  “Bull’s-eye!”

  “Those people in there,” he pointed towards the Seniors Centre. “They play stupid games. They smile a lot. They want me to play too.” He dropped another bomb. “I ran away.”

  Jess sighed. She stared at Ernie, trying to figure out what to do. “Maybe you and I should go home.”

  “I’ve still got three cups.”

  Jess nodded. In some ways Ernie hadn’t changed. Once he started something, he wanted to finish it. It didn’t matter if it was a game of crokinole, or gin rummy, or singing his way through the old song books in Ruth’s piano bench.

  A police car with its light flashing, siren wailing, came speeding down the Whitemud and headed up the ramp. What if they arrested Grandpa Ernie for being a nuisance? Was he breaking the law? She could see the headlines now – “Runaway Grandpa Water-bombs Cars on Whitemud.”

  “Let’s go home, Ernie.”

  “Do you know where I live?”

  “You live next door to me.”

  “How convenient. What will we do with the pitcher? They’ll want their pitcher back.”

  “I’ll take it back tomorrow, Ernie.”

  “What a wonderful child you are. Has anyone ever told you what a wonderful child you are?”

  “Yeah, you and Ruth and my mom, you’re always telling me.” Ever since Dad left, you’ve been the only family I’ve had, she thought, and now you’re leaving me too, and it scares me. Mom has Ruth to talk to. I had Midas. Jess felt suddenly cold as ice.

  They walked slowly towards the school, Jess carrying the pitcher and Ernie with his golf jacket over his arm. Jess’s mother was just getting out of the green Volvo.

  “Where have you two been?”

  Ernie glanced at Jess and grinned like a naughty kid, put his finger to his lips.

  “Walking,” Jess motioned to the path, the bridge. She tossed the pile of reports and papers strewn across the back seat into a box and helped Ernie into the car.

  “We have to talk,” she whispered, speaking over the roof at her mom. “He was water-bombing cars. He ran away.”

  Ernie rolled down the window. “Don’t forget to lock the school. Have to lock the school. The janitor forgets, and I’m in charge, you know.”

  “We’ll look after it, Ernie.” Naomi said. She glanced at Ernie, sighed, and pushed down the kiddie lock on the back door of the Volvo.

  Jess and her mom walked into the school together so Jess could get her sports bag.

  “Ruth was taking him to visit the day class for early Alzheimer patients.”

  ”He didn’t like it.”

  “We’d better rescue Ruth.”

  “What are we going to do about Ernie, Mom? He’s getting worse. He could have gotten lost. It scared me. I think it scared him too.”

  “It’s hard when it’s someone you love, isn’t it?” Mom wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hauled the sports bag. “You really are going to have to do something about this bag, Jess. It weighs a ton.”

  Naomi Baines started humming a familiar tune – something about whistling a happy tune so no one would figure out she was afraid. Ernie used to sing it to them.

  “Oh, Mom, that’s so corny.”

  “To each her own way – I sing. You carry the world on your shoulder.”

  Ernie was sitting quietly, with his eyes shut. He had gone to sleep. Naomi and Jess got in the front seat.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Mom. What are we going to do about Ernie?”

  “Leave Ernie to Ruth and me. We’ll take care of things.” Naomi drove slowly over to the Seniors Centre. “You’ve got school and gymnastics and being a kid. We’ve hidden the camper and car keys. We’ve put inner and outer locks on the doors. Ruth and I want to keep Ernie home as long as possible. Home is the best place for all of us – young and old. It’s a big adjustment for really old people to move out of their homes, especially the fragile elderly or the ones with dementia. We’re building a really nice centre for patients, but it isn’t finished yet. We want to get Ernie in there. It’s homey.”

  Sometimes her mom talked like a health care worker, not a person. “Ernie isn’t a case, Mom, he’s our friend.” Jess protested. “You talk about him like he’s a patient, talk to me like I’m on staff. I’m his little Jess, his fishing partner, remember.”

  “Jess, relax. Let Ruth and me handle this. You probably missed being a kid when you were eight or nine, helping me get on my feet after your dad left. I’m all right now. I’m all grown up. I want you to enjoy being a kid. I don’t want you being a little adult like I had to be. Okay, honey? Leave the job of being a grownup to me.” She turned right after the red light changed on the other side of the intersection by the concrete overpass.

  “I want Ernie at home too. I could help. I just did, didn’t I?”

  Jess didn’t wait for an answer. Talk about being a grownup, would she? Jess didn’t point out how her mom forgot to go to the bank and had to borrow money from her; or left the vacuum cleaner in the hall for days. She was sorry her mom’s mother had been such a crabby old lady, made Naomi’s childhood a real trial. Maybe that’s why Ruth and Naomi had become like family. Ruth wasn’t crabby. But Jess didn’t know how to tell either of them how worried she was. She hated feeling like a useless kid. She hadn’t been able to save Midas. At least let her help save Ernie.

  Her mother had gone back to humming a song about keeping her head up even when she was afraid. She parked the car in her usual spot and, carrying the empty pitcher, disappeared into the Seniors complex. Two joggers in black-and-purple spandex shorts sprinted by. The river of cars on the Whitemud hummed. Jess sat in the car by the yellow brick Seniors Centre and looked across the ravine at the yellow brick school where she went every weekday. Both buildings had big windows in the front and ramps for wheelchairs. In her mind’s eye she could still see Ernie standing on the bridge halfway between the school and the Seniors Centre. She had been afraid he was going to jump. Those tense moments were scorched on her brain like a cowboy’s red-hot branding iron on a steer’s flank. She would have to keep an eye on him, even if her mom and Ruth were doing the same.

  “Have we been abandoned?” Ernie asked as he awoke. “I say, have we been abandoned out here?”

  Ruth and Naomi came hurrying through the front door. Mom unlocked the kiddie lock on the back seat so Ruth could sit beside Ernie. Ruth had to sit with a box of Naomi’s files and papers on her lap. She tut-tutted and looked at her husband. Jess wished she could shut her ears. She knew what Ruth was going to say.

  “You might have gotten lo
st, Ernie.”

  Chapter 6 – Flight

  Friday of the May long weekend Jess stood on the porch with her sports bag at her feet waiting for the school bus. She was looking forward to a great time. She and her mom were leaving for Banff Saturday morning. They were going to spend “quality time” together. She had promised to repack her sports bag after school. Put in useful things like a spare sweater and a swimsuit. She could hardly wait. She tugged up her Midas socks. A shock of sadness like a bucket of cold water washed over her. She remembered something she had to do.

  Jess jogged to the back yard where the rosebush on Midas’s grave was struggling to survive. She grabbed an ice cream bucket from the back step and upturned it over the scrawny bush. “There, in case there’s a frost or a snowstorm.”

  “Started talking to plants, have you, Jess?” Ruth was backing out of the driveway that ran between the two houses. Her Ford Escort wagon was sparkling clean. Jess eyed her neighbour’s usually dusty car. “Ernie was a great help yesterday. He washed the car and the camper. He’s trying to talk me into going away this weekend. He followed me all over the house, talking about fishing. Wore himself and me right out.”

  Jess looked over at the house, trying to spot Ernie.

  “He’s sleeping,” Ruth sighed. “Couldn’t sleep last night. He kept getting up. He’d put his clothes on and try the doors. He even used some bad language when he couldn’t get out, and you know how he hates swearing. I told him it wasn’t morning, I showed him the moon through the window. Told him to go back to bed.” Ruth clutched the steering wheel as if it was a life preserver and she was in deep water.

  Jess thought she saw the drapes in the Mathers’ house move, a face disappear. Her good mood had completely disappeared. In its place was a well of anxiety.

  “Do you want a ride to school?”

  “No thanks, I’ll wait for the bus.”

  Grandma Ruth drove off. Jess walked up the laneway towards the street. Brian Dille spotted her, waved frantically, and started doing back flips on his lawn. Show off! What a clown! She was so mad at him, trying to tell her how to run her life, telling her to forget Ernie. As if he’d been such a great friend lately.

  All year he’d been hanging out with those bullies, giggling, chasing Jess and some of the smaller girls. One of the times that had made her really mad was last fall. The scene stuck out in her mind. The amazing blue sky, the dusty schoolyard, the forbidden puddles that the little kids got into, the smell of crab-apples, the class in their outfits for games outdoors, and her old friend Brian Dille – he’d stood with “the boys” laughing at the girls and the way they threw the ball, making smart remarks as they chose teams for volleyball. He’d shouted from the side lines, “We’ll take Tara as a spare-a, but Jess is a mess.” What a clown, what a dummy, what a bummer. She certainly didn’t miss him. No way. Let him stew in his own juice. It was no skin off her nose if he wanted to be a nincompoop, as Ernie called all stupid drivers.

  The back door of the Mather house flew open. Ernie emerged, carrying a battered suitcase and his fishing gear. He peered around the corner of the house, scanned the back yard, and tiptoed to the camper van with an orange tarp over it that was parked next to the garage. He pushed his Northern Alberta Dairy Pool cap away from his forehead. That was Ernie’s prized fishing hat. Jess and Brian both had matching caps – only smaller. Hers was probably too small now.

  “Ernie, where are you going?”

  He looked back towards his house and put his finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.” He started pulling the tarp off the camper and folding it.

  Jess ran to help. Ernie had some plan in mind. He had the van keys in his hand and he was unlocking the cab door. Where’d he get them? Whatever he was up to was going to mean trouble, worse trouble than water-bombing cars. Jess’s mind went a mile a minute.

  “Ernie, could you drop me at school?”

  “I’m retired now. Don’t go to school anymore.”

  Ernie had a sly look on his face. He was acting like a sneaky kid.

  “Ruth wants to go, doesn’t she? Shouldn’t you wait for her?” A shiver went down Jess’s back.

  Ernie shook his head, opened the door of the camper, and tossed in his suitcase and fishing gear. The stuff landed with a thud. “She doesn’t like fishing. She likes visiting relatives, sitting in chairs, balancing teacups. I like being outdoors.”

  Jess heard rather than saw the school bus pull away. She had been standing in the shadow of the Mather garage, so the bus driver couldn’t see her. Fine group of friends she had. It was a cinch Brian wouldn’t care, not about her, not about Ernie, the gaga geezer, as he’d nicknamed him when he’d brought Ernie home from the West Edmonton Mall. Ernie had been feeding scraps of paper to the goldfish in one of the fountains.

  Ernie climbed into the cab of the old van, whistling one of his Second World War songs. He sounded really cheerful.

  “You aren’t supposed to be driving, Ernie,” Jess scolded. “Where’d you get the keys? What if you run out of gas?”

  “Now, don’t you worry your beautiful little head, sweetheart. I talked the missus into filling the tank yesterday. I’m on a roll, little lady. There’s no stopping me now.” He was doing his John Wayne tough-guy impersonation. He had old Western movies on video, and she and Brian had watched them over and over. His eyes looked steely and his jaw firm.

  Jess looked longingly at the street, willing someone they knew to drive by. She glanced over at her house, wishing she had time to phone her mom.

  She tried one more time – “Ernie, I missed my bus. You have to take me to school.”

  “No, I don’t. Don’t go to school anymore. I’m retired.” He repeated what he had said a minute ago and chuckled as if it was a great joke. He started the motor, looked in the rear-view mirror, and prepared to back up.

  Jess’s mind whirred like a helicopter. Someone had to stop Ernie from running away like this. He might get lost. He might have an accident. But her mom had said it wasn’t Jess’s problem.

  Jess made a quick decision, heart beating like a speeded-up metronome, palms sweating. She grabbed her heavy old sports bag, ran around the front of the van, yanked open the door, and leapt in. She did up her seat belt.

  “I don’t want company,” Ernie shouted. “I want to be alone.”

  Jess felt the slap of his words on her face. This was not Grandpa Ernie talking. Ernie Mather loved her, always had. He liked being with her. She and Brian were his sergeants and he was Lieutenant Mather of the Princess Pats. She glanced over at the wiry, determined old man ignoring her, driving down the street as if his life depended on it. She was alone in a beat-up old camper van with a stranger.

  Ernie sped along the Whitemud until he came to 111th. He turned north. He had one eye on the speedometer and the other on the road. He whistled another song. Jess wondered if she sang along whether he’d snap out of this frantic mood, whether she’d be able to get him to stop.

  “ ‘Keep the home fires burning….’ ”

  Jess put her hand on Ernie’s arm. “I want to go home, Ernie.”

  “Now, sergeant, you know we can’t leave until the next patrol. We’ve got a hill to take. Bert, you and I will soldier on until the end.”

  All their games came back to her. It made Jess feel very old. She and Brian and Ernie had played Sesame Street – with Ernie being Ernie, Jess being Bert, and Brian being Big Bird because he had a yellow T-shirt. They had played war and they had played rootin'-tootin' Westerns. They played on road trips, fishing trips, or between crokinole and Parcheesi games.

  Jess watched as Ernie guided the van past the university and across the river on the Groat Bridge. Traffic streamed by. The sun shone brightly, heating up the side window and her right arm, but Jess felt cold inside.

  “We’re not playing games here, Ernie. This is for real. Let me out at the doughnut shop on 111th.”

  Ernie frowned. He studied her with a slantwise look. “You’ll tell.” The van rolled on.
The old motor hummed a doleful tune.

  Jess shivered. Her muscled tensed so tight she was quaking. The front seat felt hot, as if it was shrinking around her. Her stomach was queasy. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She could not remember ever being this frightened.

  “You’re sick, Ernie. You need help,” Jess started to cry. She fished in the glove compartment for tissues. Good-hearted, sensible Ruth always kept Kleenex there. She buried her face in a tissue. Everything was upside down. “You can’t run away, Ernie. Remember, you wouldn’t let me run away when I was a little kid. You said I needed to stay home until I was old enough to manage on my own. You said no one should leave home without a good plan.”

  Ernie wasn’t talking. Jess stared out the window, watching the flowering plum and crab on the banks along Groat Road. She remembered as if it were yesterday her seven-year-old self with her pale blue doll suitcase, filled with underwear and socks and a pocket teddy bear, marching down the sidewalk the day after her dad had left for good. Ernie had caught up with her at the corner of 148th Street and the park. He had taken her hand and walked her back home. That’s when they had become good buddies. That’s when all the games had started in earnest. Brian had joined in the fun because Ruth looked after him when his mom was working evenings.

  “I have a plan.” Ernie spoke so low Jess wasn’t sure if she had heard right. Her brain felt squeezed. Something about his voice, the sadness in his eyes despite the games, something about an old man who loved company heading off by himself, made her very nervous.

  Ernie slowed down, putting on the turn signal. Jess made another decision. The back of her neck tingled as she picked one of her familiar old roles.

  “Well, Lieutenant, maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t want to go AWOL before the next patrol. What kind of a sergeant would I be if I did that?”