THEN
In Toronto, in the lawyer’s high-rise office, three days before Webb’s arrival in Norman Wells, Mr. Devine addressed all six grandsons in the vacuum after all the adults had left the room.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I’m assuming that nobody saw this coming.”
“Grandpa was always full of surprises,” Bunny said.
“So I guess because of that we’re not that surprised,” Steve added.
“Interesting perspective,” the lawyer said. “The only way you would have been surprised is if he didn’t do something to surprise you.”
“Pretty much,” Steve said.
“So if he’d done nothing, then you would have actually been surprised, which wouldn’t have been a surprise. Sort of a Catch-22, don’t you think?”
“Do you think, sir, that we could go on?” DJ said. “I believe we’re all anxious to hear what you’re going to tell us.”
Webb was happy to simply watch. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, regardless of what he did or said.
“I’m sure you are,” Devine answered DJ. “But actually, I’m not going to tell you anything.” He paused. “Your grandfather is. I’m going to play a video your grandfather made.”
The lawyer walked over to a television in a big cabinet. He turned to face the six grandsons. “I was in the room when your grandfather recorded this. I think all of you will be at least a little surprised by what he has to say.”
He turned the TV on and there was Webb’s grandpa.
“I’m not sure why I have to be wearing makeup,” David McLean said, turning to face somebody off camera. “This is my will, not some late-night talk show…and it’s certainly not a live taping.”
Someone in the room with his grandpa laughed.
“Good morning…or afternoon, boys,” he began. “If you are watching this, I must be dead, although on this fine afternoon I feel very much alive. I want to start off by saying that I don’t want you to be too sad. I had a good life and I wouldn’t change a minute of it. That said, I still hope that you are at least a little sad and that you miss having me around. After all, I was one spectacular grandpa!”
His cousins started laughing, and Webb joined in. It felt good. He didn’t laugh much anymore.
“And you were simply the best grandsons a man could ever have. I want you to know that of all the joys in my life, you were among my greatest. From the first time I met each of you to the last moments I spent with you—and of course I don’t know what those last moments were, but I know they were wonderful—I want to thank you all for being part of my life. A very big, special, wonderful, warm part of my life.”
The old man took a sip of water. Webb noticed his hand shaking. He must have been nervous.
“I wanted to record this rather than just have my lawyer read it out to you. Hello, Johnnie.”
“Hello, Davie,” Devine replied.
“Johnnie, I hope you appreciate that twenty-year-old bottle of Scotch I left you,” his grandpa said. “And you better not have had more than one snort of it before the reading of my will! But knowing you the way I do, I suspect you would have had two.”
“He did know me well,” Devine said.
“I just wanted—needed—to say goodbye to all of you boys in person, or at least as in person as this allows.” On the television screen, David took another sip from his glass. His hand was still shaking.
Webb found that significant. He’d never seen his grandpa nervous. David McLean had lived into his nineties, strong and healthy. His hands had never shaken before.
“Life is an interesting journey,” David said from the television, “one that seldom takes you where you think you might be going. Certainly I never expected that I was going to become an old man. In fact, there were more than a few times when I was a boy that I didn’t believe I was going to live to see another day, never mind live long enough to grow old.”
This was a man who’d been a pilot in World War II, been shot at over France, had had adventures all over the world. Webb knew that the man on the television screen was not exaggerating.
“But I did live a long and wonderful life. I was blessed to meet the love of my life, your grandmother Vera. It is so sad that she passed on before any of you had a chance to meet her. I know people never speak ill of the dead—and I’m counting on you all to keep up that tradition with me—but your grandmother was simply the most perfect woman in the world.”
Webb’s own mother—David’s daughter, Charlotte—was close to perfect too. At least she had been when Webb’s dad was alive. He bit back a heavy sigh, thinking of his mother outside the lawyer’s office. So close. But truly, so far away.
“Her only flaw,” David continued, “as far as I can see, was being foolish enough to marry me. She gave me not only a happy life, but four daughters…four amazing daughters. I just wish she could have been there to watch them grow into the four wonderful women who became your mothers.”
Webb’s grandmother had died when the girls were young—the youngest, Aunt Vicky, was only four at the time. David McLean had raised the girls on his own. Webb wished his mother had followed that same path when his dad had died when Webb was ten.
“I was always comforted by the thought that I believed she was watching them too,” David said from the television. “Sitting up there in heaven or wherever. I guess as you’re hearing this, I have an answer to that question. I pray that I’m with her now.”
He raised his glass again and toasted his grandsons. “Being both father and mother to my girls meant that I was always running fast to try and do everything. Sometimes the need to earn a living got in the way of me being there for my daughters. There were too many school plays, violin recitals and soccer games that I never got to. And that was why I made a point to be there for almost every one of your games and school events and concerts. This was both a promise I made and a complete joy. You boys, you wonderful, incredible, lovely boys have been such a blessing…seven blessings. Some blessings come later than others.”
Seven? Webb squinted, as if looking harder at the screen would help his hearing. Six. There were six grandsons. Obviously a mistake, but he didn’t give it much thought because he wanted to give his grandpa his full attention.
“But I didn’t bring you here simply to tell you how much I loved you all. Being part of your lives was one of the greatest achievements of my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but being there for all your big moments meant that I couldn’t be elsewhere. I’ve done a lot, but it doesn’t seem that time is going to permit me the luxury of doing everything I wished for. So, I have some requests, some last requests. In the possession of my lawyer are some envelopes. One for each of you.”
Webb glanced at Mr. Devine, who stood at the side of the room holding envelopes fanned out like playing cards.
“Each of these requests, these tasks,” David continued, “has been specifically selected for you to fulfill. All of the things you will need to complete your task will be provided—money, tickets, guides. Everything. I am not asking any of you to do anything stupid or unnecessarily reckless—certainly nothing as stupid or reckless as I did at your ages. Your parents may be worried, but I have no doubts. Just as I have no doubts that you will all become fine young men. I am sad that I will not be there to watch you all grow into the incredible men I know you will become. But I don’t need to be there to know that will happen. I am so certain of that. As certain as I am that I will be there with you as you complete my last requests, as you continue your life journeys.”
On the television screen, he lifted up his glass again.
“A final toast. To the best grandsons a man could ever have. I love you all so much. Good luck.”
The video ended and his grandpa was gone.