Chapter Three

Dylan and his grandpa waved as the boat chugged away. It seemed so little on the big ocean. They stood on the dock and watched until it disappeared around the point.

“We’d better get these bags up before the storm hits,” Grandpa said.

“What’s in all those bags?”

“My clothes and a few…well… surprises.”

“What sort of surprises?” Dylan asked.

“If I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises. You’ll see. We’ll work together to take this first one.”

Together they picked up the first bag.

“It’s heavy!” Dylan said.

“Some surprises are heavier than others,” Grandpa said with a smile.

Dylan’s grandpa was famous for doing the unexpected. His daughter claimed he was like a little kid who could afford to buy whatever toys he wanted. And he did. There was no telling what he’d brought with him.

“You’ve grown so much,” Grandpa said.

Dylan shrugged.

“You’ve done four months’ worth of growing since I last saw you.”

“You’ve changed too.”

“Have I?”

“You’re hardly limping.”

“It’s so much better. No limp and hardly any pain. Not perfect but better.”

The path was steep and rocky, and they carried the bag between them along the trail. The cabin was a long way from the dock. They finally got there and went inside. Grandpa let out a big sigh. “It’s good to be home.”

“I’m happy you’re here.”

“So am I.” Grandpa gave his grandson another big hug. “Being here takes me back to when I was young. Do you know how long it’s been since I was your age?”

“A hundred years?”

His grandpa laughed. “Closer to two hundred.”

“Are you going to tell me what you brought with you now?”

“Not yet. One bag up and two to go. We should get moving. The storm isn’t waiting.”

“We could use my wagon to get the others,” Dylan said.

“Smart. Very smart.”

Dylan went outside and circled around to the shed where the wagon was kept.

His grandpa looked around the cabin. It did feel good to be back in the home where he had grown up. He’d have time to read and walk the beach and the paths he knew so well, but he also knew there would be lots to do. The cabin was even older than him, and there were always things that needed to be repaired or replaced. Dylan’s parents were talented artists, but neither of them was good with tools. They could paint or take a picture of something that needed to be fixed, but they couldn’t fix it. It would be up to Grandpa to fix all the things that needed to be fixed.

Dylan returned with the wagon, and together they hurried back to the dock. The sky was getting darker, and the first drops of rain had started to fall. They hoped they’d get the other two bags up before the rain got heavier.