Heart of the Wilderness Read Online Free PDF

“But then I haven’t been up this way in a long time.”
    “I ’member it,” she said again. “When we went by it before, there was a red shirt on that line.”
    He marveled at her memory.
    “Grandfather,” she said again, “do you ’member the red shirt?”
    He smiled and shook his head. “No,” he responded, “I don’t remember the shirt either.”
    She swatted another mosquito. “These ’skitoes are a pesky nuisance, aren’t they, Grandfather?”
    Surprised, he couldn’t hide the smile that played about his lips.
    “That’s what Mama says,” she added.
    Yes—Mary had said that. And his Mary had borrowed the words from her father. His words were now coming back to him through the grandchild who shared his canoe.
    “Grandfather—do you know what I think?”
    “Well,” he said, resting his paddle against the side of the small craft. “I know what I think. I think that grandfather is an awfully big name. Do you think there might be something else you would like to call me?”
    She puckered her brow, deep in thought. He studied the seriousness of the green eyes, thinking back to another little girl who had shared his canoe such a long, long time ago—but that only seemed like yesterday.
    “I know,” she said, her face brightening. “I could call you Papa Mac.”
    The words caught him so totally off guard that he heard his own soft gasp. “Where’d you—?” he began, but she was bubbling on.
    “Mama used to call you Papa Mac—so I will call you Papa Mac.
    Okay?”
    Another link. Another pull at his heart. He couldn’t answer her because he was so choked up, so he just nodded his head.
    “How much longer?” she asked, seeming totally oblivious to the sweet pain she had just caused him.
    “A long way yet,” he managed to answer, clearing his throat. “But I think that it’s about time to take a break and eat the lunch Mrs. Miller sent, don’t you?”
    She agreed wholeheartedly. He eased the canoe up against the bank of the river and helped her from the craft. He was surprised at how easily she seemed to adjust to the sway of the small boat. He wondered where she had learned the rhythm of a canoe. Never once on their trip upriver had he needed to caution her to sit still or not to lean over the edge or never to move quickly. Worried about it, he had been prepared to rescue her from the water should they have a spill. But she seemed to know instinctively how to move.
    “Have you been in a canoe before?” he asked her as she stood beside him on the riverbank.
    “Oh yes,” she enthused. “Mama used to take me. And sometimes Papa used to take me. And sometimes we all went together.”
    So that was the secret. Already Mary and Stu had been raising a little girl who would love the wilderness just as they did.
    They ate their simple lunch in silence. It was the first she had stopped chatting since they had left the city behind. He watched her as she tilted her head and listened to the song of a bird.
    “What was that, Papa Mac?” she whispered. He couldn’t believe how easily she had adapted to the name.
    “That was a wild canary,” he replied.
    “Mama was teaching me the birds,” she said sadly.
    The bird called again, and Kendra tipped her head to listen. “A wild canary,” she said to herself as though to implant the words firmly in her mind. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “Guess I’ll never know the birds now.” She spoke quietly, but her voice broke with the words, and he saw her chin quiver.
    When she lifted her head again there was strength and determination in the little face. “They don’t have many birds in the city anyway,” she informed her grandfather. “I don’t think the birds like all those houses and all that noise and stuff.”
    He wondered how she felt about all the houses and all the noise— and stuff. He felt his own chin tremble.
    “I guess we should be going,” he said to her to break free from the pain he saw in her face. The pain that spilled