know how much Amy loves you.”
“I was planning to come over tomorrow.”
“I can’t get anybody else on such short notice,” Wendy said. “You can stay overnight and spend the day with her tomorrow. She’s still not feeling quite herself since she got the chicken pox. She will be thrilled to see you.”
“I was planning to work on the story I told you about.”
“Bring it with you. You could read it to her. She’d like that.”
“It’s not a kid’s story,” Bill said.
“You can skip over the parts she might not understand.” Wendy sighed. “Please, Dad. I’m really stuck. When Amy falls asleep, you can work here. You can use my computer if you like.”
“No, I’m still at the pen and ink stage.”
“Seriously, Dad, I’m really stuck.”
“Okay, okay. You’ve got to give me a half-hour to get my things together. Maybe Keith could wait in the car.”
“Dad. For goodness’ sake! I’ll see you in half an hour, then.”
She hung up with a slam.
Bill felt bad. He didn’t want her to feel torn between her father and her ex-husband. However, he really couldn’t stand his former son-in-law. He hoped Wendy would see the light soon.
Chapter Four
When Bill got to Wendy’s house, she already had her coat on. Keith was nowhere to be seen. Wendy gave her dad a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks, Dad. Amy is all ready for bed. She’s in her PJs. We won’t be late.”
“Wendy, I’m sorry for sounding hard-hearted. I just want the best for you.”
“I know you do, Dad.”
Wendy smiled. But she seemed sad. Then she picked up her purse and gloves, blew him a kiss, and left.
Bill went upstairs to Amy’s room. She was in bed, looking at one of her picture books. She looked thinner since having chicken pox. There were still scabs on her face and arms.
“Granddad! Mommy said you were coming. Oh, goodie!”
He walked over to the bed and gave her a kiss. She seemed a little hot to him. Her cat, a black and white ball of fluff, glanced at him and meowed. Bill ruffled its hair.
“Hiya, Boots. Catch any mice today?”
The cat started to clean its paws and refused to answer.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Bill asked Amy.
“I’m still itchy, but Mommy says I can go back to school next week.” She looked up at him. “What do you want to do tonight, Granddad?”
“What do you want to do, Amy?”
“Hmm. My eyes are tired, so no TV. I think I’d like a story.”
“Sure thing. What would you like to hear?”
“Mommy said you are writing down your memories. I’d like to hear them.”
“They’re not exactly memories, Amy, just stories I’m writing about the family. I wasn’t even born when my story took place.”
She looked puzzled. At six years old, Amy was still trying to make sense of life. She found it hard to understand how somebody who was here, now, hadn’t always been alive.
“What’s the story called?”
“Shipwreck.”
“And what’s it about?”
“It’s about the early life of my great-grandfather, William Murdoch.”
“That’s the same name as you, except you’re called Bill instead of William.”
“That’s right. The name William is passed down through the family.”
“Why wasn’t I named William?”
“It’s a boy’s name.”
“No, it’s not. There’s a girl in my class named Billie.”
“You’re named after the first William’s wife. Her name was Amy.”
His granddaughter wrinkled up her forehead. “We’re learning this sort of thing in class. Making a family tree. You are my grandfather.” She started to count on her fingers. “That means your great-grandfather would be my great-great-great-grandfather. And his wife, Amy, would be my great-great-great-grandmother. Three greats.” She beamed.
“Well done, Amy, well done. You’re right. The first William Murdoch was born in 1861. About 150 years ago.”
“He must have been very old when he died.”
Bill decided to let that pass. He could understand her point of view.
She
“I was planning to come over tomorrow.”
“I can’t get anybody else on such short notice,” Wendy said. “You can stay overnight and spend the day with her tomorrow. She’s still not feeling quite herself since she got the chicken pox. She will be thrilled to see you.”
“I was planning to work on the story I told you about.”
“Bring it with you. You could read it to her. She’d like that.”
“It’s not a kid’s story,” Bill said.
“You can skip over the parts she might not understand.” Wendy sighed. “Please, Dad. I’m really stuck. When Amy falls asleep, you can work here. You can use my computer if you like.”
“No, I’m still at the pen and ink stage.”
“Seriously, Dad, I’m really stuck.”
“Okay, okay. You’ve got to give me a half-hour to get my things together. Maybe Keith could wait in the car.”
“Dad. For goodness’ sake! I’ll see you in half an hour, then.”
She hung up with a slam.
Bill felt bad. He didn’t want her to feel torn between her father and her ex-husband. However, he really couldn’t stand his former son-in-law. He hoped Wendy would see the light soon.
Chapter Four
When Bill got to Wendy’s house, she already had her coat on. Keith was nowhere to be seen. Wendy gave her dad a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks, Dad. Amy is all ready for bed. She’s in her PJs. We won’t be late.”
“Wendy, I’m sorry for sounding hard-hearted. I just want the best for you.”
“I know you do, Dad.”
Wendy smiled. But she seemed sad. Then she picked up her purse and gloves, blew him a kiss, and left.
Bill went upstairs to Amy’s room. She was in bed, looking at one of her picture books. She looked thinner since having chicken pox. There were still scabs on her face and arms.
“Granddad! Mommy said you were coming. Oh, goodie!”
He walked over to the bed and gave her a kiss. She seemed a little hot to him. Her cat, a black and white ball of fluff, glanced at him and meowed. Bill ruffled its hair.
“Hiya, Boots. Catch any mice today?”
The cat started to clean its paws and refused to answer.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Bill asked Amy.
“I’m still itchy, but Mommy says I can go back to school next week.” She looked up at him. “What do you want to do tonight, Granddad?”
“What do you want to do, Amy?”
“Hmm. My eyes are tired, so no TV. I think I’d like a story.”
“Sure thing. What would you like to hear?”
“Mommy said you are writing down your memories. I’d like to hear them.”
“They’re not exactly memories, Amy, just stories I’m writing about the family. I wasn’t even born when my story took place.”
She looked puzzled. At six years old, Amy was still trying to make sense of life. She found it hard to understand how somebody who was here, now, hadn’t always been alive.
“What’s the story called?”
“Shipwreck.”
“And what’s it about?”
“It’s about the early life of my great-grandfather, William Murdoch.”
“That’s the same name as you, except you’re called Bill instead of William.”
“That’s right. The name William is passed down through the family.”
“Why wasn’t I named William?”
“It’s a boy’s name.”
“No, it’s not. There’s a girl in my class named Billie.”
“You’re named after the first William’s wife. Her name was Amy.”
His granddaughter wrinkled up her forehead. “We’re learning this sort of thing in class. Making a family tree. You are my grandfather.” She started to count on her fingers. “That means your great-grandfather would be my great-great-great-grandfather. And his wife, Amy, would be my great-great-great-grandmother. Three greats.” She beamed.
“Well done, Amy, well done. You’re right. The first William Murdoch was born in 1861. About 150 years ago.”
“He must have been very old when he died.”
Bill decided to let that pass. He could understand her point of view.
She
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