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Jess and the Runaway Grandpa

by Mary Woodbury

Talkingstick Press


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This revised edition of Jess and the Runaway Grandpa is

published by:

Talkingstick Press

#404, 10319 111 Street

Edmonton, AB T5K 0A2

Copyright (c) Mary Woodbury 2011. All rights reserved.

Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, nopart of this book may be reproduced in any manner without

prior permission from the publisher.

Originally published in 1997 by Coteau Books.

Editor: Barbara Sapergia

Cover art and design by Robert WoodburyOriginal photography by Debbie Parsons

Models for cover:Natalia Young and Bill Freed

ISBN: 978-0-9868347-1-4

Lyric excerpts of Youll Never Walk Alone by Richard

Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II, (c) 12945 WilliamsonMusic. Copyright Renewed. International Copyright

Secured. Used by Permission. All rights Reserved.

Digitally printed in Canada by PageMaster


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Chapter 24 Brian Leads the Way ........................... 141Chapter 25 Ernie in the Boat .................................. 145Chapter 26 Jess Gives Her Best ............................. 148Chapter 27 Look Homeward .................................. 157Chapter 28 In the Hospital ..................................... 159


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I dedicate this book to Greg and

Janelle Caldwell, and the thousands

of children who know first-hand

what it is like to lose a

grandparent to Alzheimers.

With thanks to Colleen Hefferman

and her students in

Smith and Athabasca.

Without their interest and encouragement

this book might have gone out of print

permanently.

Ten percent of the price of each book sold


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Chapter 1 Orange Socks

he day after her cat Midas died Jessie Baines put

on a pair of orange socks. It didnt matter that theydidnt match her bright purple track suit or her

lime green sports bag or her worn white sneakers with

purple laces. What mattered was remembering Midas.

Midas had been one terrific pet. A ball of golden fuzz

when they had picked him up at the SPCA, he had grown

into an impressive giant. On that first day when the kittens

tiny, sharp, pins-and-needles claws had kneaded Jesss armleaving marks, her dad had chuckled, That kitten has the

Midas touch. He changes everything he touches.

But my arm hasnt turned to gold, Daddy, Jess had

retorted, being a lippy six year old at the time. Now, six

years later; Midas, the huge purring orange machine, had

been run over by a speeding half-ton, and would only live

in Jesss memory. Thats where her dad lived too. Hedmoved East shortly after Midas had arrived.

Jess and her mom, Naomi Baines, held a memorial

service for the cat in the back yard by the cedar deck. The

vet gave them Midass remains in a Cougar winter boots

box. Ernie and Ruth Mather, their old friends from next

door, and Brian Dille and his dad Sonny, from down the

street, came to the funeral.Everyone shared stories of Midas except Ernie, who

l i hi H d il h d b d


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2 Mary Woodbury

compact body. Her arthritis complained on damp days.

Remember how he chased magpies in the yard, Ruthsniffed. Caught some, too.

Jess could remember showing Midas off proudly to the

Mathers when she was young. Theyd made a big fuss of

her and the cat. They always had. Back then shed called

them Grandma and Grandpa. Her real ones were distant in

more ways than miles, as her mom said. The Mathers had

adopted all of them. Especially after the Bainses hadbought the house next door.

The firemen had to rescue him from Mathers elm tree

once, Brian added. He was not a damsel but just dismal

in distress.

Jess glared at Brian from under lowered eyelids.

Couldnt the clown be serious for one minute?

He had the loudest purr of all the cats on the block,Sonny Dille sighed.

He loved green olives. Naomi shoveled clay and sand

onto the boot box. The dirt thudded on the cardboard. The

smell of damp, turned earth, and early crab-apple blossoms

filled the air. Jess squeezed her stinging eyes shut and

pictured Midas eating olives.

Without the pits, Jess whispered.They sang Memories from the Musical Cats. Naomi

led the chorus with her husky alto voice. Tears made two

thin rivers down her plump cheeks. She wiped them away

leaving a smudge of dirt on her chin. Jess was tempted to

take a Kleenex, dampen it, and wash her mothers face for

her. Naomi cared so much for every living thing. She

worked too hard, Ruth Mather said. That was why Jess hadto be a big girl and help. Answer the phone, take messages,


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Jess and the Runaway Grandpa 3

didnt.

Poor Midas. Everything Jess thought about remindedher of the cat.

What are we celebrating? Ernies white hair blew in

the stiff May breeze. He was wearing his blue windbreaker

and matching polyester blue pants. Silver-rimmed glasses

perched on his long pale nose. A grey stubble of a beard

sprouted on his prominent chin. His cheeks were smooth

and pink, but his neck and hands were wrinkled. He had toomuch skin for the size of his skeleton. Never a big man,

Ernie had shrunk since he retired either that or Jess had

grown really fast.

Jess shivered like someone was walking on her grave.

Poor Ernie, hed been like a grandpa, a really great

grandpa. Now he was more like a kid. It scared her when he

didnt remember who she was. She wanted to scream athim when he did dumb things. Jesss eyes filled with tears.

She took the cats stuffed mouse with its chewed tail and

missing eye out of her pocket and tossed it onto the cats

coffin. Everyone else threw some earth into the hole. Her

mother planted a rosebush, the sweat joining the tears and

the smudges of clay on her flushed face. They all hugged

each other, except for Brian and Jess. The two of themstood awkwardly for a moment, hands by their sides. Jess

cried silently, mopping her tears with a hankie that Ruth

had passed her.

Midas had a great life. Ruth patted Jesss hand. He

died running. I dont think he would have wanted it any

other way.

Its been a purr-fect afternoon for an interment, Briansaid. Too bad Grandpa Ernie missed it all. He rolled his


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