bun. “I don’t know how old he is, but that’s another curious thing about the villagers here. The old ones, even the ones who say they’ve lived for centuries, have the energy of youngsters. My mother used to say it’s something in the water.”
“That would be great if it’s true.”
Smiling, Isabella recalled, “I used to dream about living to be a thousand.” She waited a moment, then asked softly, “And where, I wonder, do your dreams take you?”
Kate started to answer, then caught herself. She walked over to Isabella’s little wooden altar by the tent window, bordered by six hand-painted carvings of saints. Beneath the altar sat a long table laden with vials of chemicals, beakers, meters, glass columns, a large microscope, and several more petri dishes. Without facing Isabella, she said, “Someplace where I won’t cause any trouble.”
“That’s not much of a goal.”
Kate leaned over the microscope for a few seconds. “It’s the best I can do right now.”
“Haven’t you ever thought about what you’d like to do with your life?”
“I guess so.”
Isabella lifted one petri dish to the light and examined it. “And?”
“Well, sometimes when I play softball I think about what it might be like to play shortstop for a real major league team.”
“That’s a good goal. Any others?”
“No.”
“Come, now. Tell me.”
Kate thought for a moment. “I suppose sometimes I’ve thought about…about
creating
something, like a book or a symphony or something.” Her shoulders drooped. “Right now, though, all I create is trouble. Even when I try to do the right thing, like rescuing that whale, I mess things up royally.”
Brushing back some loose hairs from the bun on her head, Isabella said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, but with everything else going on I haven’t had a chance. You’re quite sure it was a gray whale?”
“Sure as could be. A young male.”
“How was he caught?”
“By the tail, in the net. One of his flukes was almost completely cut off. Blood was everywhere.”
“Oooh, that sounds bad. Was he able to swim after you set him free?”
“Hard to tell. He dove out of sight as soon as he could.”
“I don’t blame him.”
Hesitantly, Kate asked, “Do you think he survived?”
Isabella frowned. “No way to know. It’s possible. It’s also possible that he bled to death, or wound up as food for sharks.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “One thing is certain, though. If you hadn’t come along, he would have surely died. You gave him a chance, albeit a small one.”
“A lot of good that does for Dad’s project.”
“You did what you had to do, Kate.” She replaced the petri dish on the table. “And who knows? Perhaps what you did had some hidden virtue to it.”
“What could be good about destroying the buoy?”
The woman drew in her breath. “For one thing, you made close contact with one of the gray whales who stay here year round. In fact, it may be the first time that’s happened since the whalers came here and nearly wiped them out a century ago. The grays who migrate to the Arctic seem to have forgiven, or at least forgotten, those days, but the year-round group has avoided human contact entirely. And since they never seem to stray from the whirlpool, it’s been impossible to observe them. All anyone has been able to do is photograph them from a distance and, sometimes, record their mournful songs.”
“He did sound awfully sad. But I thought that was because he was dying.”
“No, they’re always like that. I’ve never heard anything like it. So sad, beyond what words can explain.”
Biting her lip, Kate said, “The worst part is, I really wanted to help Dad on this trip. More than just cooking and doing dishes. I wanted…to be his assistant or something. He’s always pulling me out of trouble, like he did at the whirlpool. And look what I’ve done! I’ve ruined everything.”
“That remains to be
“That would be great if it’s true.”
Smiling, Isabella recalled, “I used to dream about living to be a thousand.” She waited a moment, then asked softly, “And where, I wonder, do your dreams take you?”
Kate started to answer, then caught herself. She walked over to Isabella’s little wooden altar by the tent window, bordered by six hand-painted carvings of saints. Beneath the altar sat a long table laden with vials of chemicals, beakers, meters, glass columns, a large microscope, and several more petri dishes. Without facing Isabella, she said, “Someplace where I won’t cause any trouble.”
“That’s not much of a goal.”
Kate leaned over the microscope for a few seconds. “It’s the best I can do right now.”
“Haven’t you ever thought about what you’d like to do with your life?”
“I guess so.”
Isabella lifted one petri dish to the light and examined it. “And?”
“Well, sometimes when I play softball I think about what it might be like to play shortstop for a real major league team.”
“That’s a good goal. Any others?”
“No.”
“Come, now. Tell me.”
Kate thought for a moment. “I suppose sometimes I’ve thought about…about
creating
something, like a book or a symphony or something.” Her shoulders drooped. “Right now, though, all I create is trouble. Even when I try to do the right thing, like rescuing that whale, I mess things up royally.”
Brushing back some loose hairs from the bun on her head, Isabella said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, but with everything else going on I haven’t had a chance. You’re quite sure it was a gray whale?”
“Sure as could be. A young male.”
“How was he caught?”
“By the tail, in the net. One of his flukes was almost completely cut off. Blood was everywhere.”
“Oooh, that sounds bad. Was he able to swim after you set him free?”
“Hard to tell. He dove out of sight as soon as he could.”
“I don’t blame him.”
Hesitantly, Kate asked, “Do you think he survived?”
Isabella frowned. “No way to know. It’s possible. It’s also possible that he bled to death, or wound up as food for sharks.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “One thing is certain, though. If you hadn’t come along, he would have surely died. You gave him a chance, albeit a small one.”
“A lot of good that does for Dad’s project.”
“You did what you had to do, Kate.” She replaced the petri dish on the table. “And who knows? Perhaps what you did had some hidden virtue to it.”
“What could be good about destroying the buoy?”
The woman drew in her breath. “For one thing, you made close contact with one of the gray whales who stay here year round. In fact, it may be the first time that’s happened since the whalers came here and nearly wiped them out a century ago. The grays who migrate to the Arctic seem to have forgiven, or at least forgotten, those days, but the year-round group has avoided human contact entirely. And since they never seem to stray from the whirlpool, it’s been impossible to observe them. All anyone has been able to do is photograph them from a distance and, sometimes, record their mournful songs.”
“He did sound awfully sad. But I thought that was because he was dying.”
“No, they’re always like that. I’ve never heard anything like it. So sad, beyond what words can explain.”
Biting her lip, Kate said, “The worst part is, I really wanted to help Dad on this trip. More than just cooking and doing dishes. I wanted…to be his assistant or something. He’s always pulling me out of trouble, like he did at the whirlpool. And look what I’ve done! I’ve ruined everything.”
“That remains to be
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