Xiii: The Adventures of Bobbie Baxter
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About this ebook
A good read. Dan New Brunswick, Canada
I enjoyed the story very much. I would recommend it. I would like to read other Bobbie Baxter stories if you write any. Isobel (11) UK
I would like to read more to find out what happens. If you do write more, can we read it? Molly and Erica (11 & 12) Ontario, Canada
Melanie G. Jackson
Melanie is an experienced educator, engaging public speaker, artist, gardener, philosopher and passionate animal welfare worker. Her professional designation as a Human Services Counsellor has been put to good use during the many years she worked providing Education and Support to families living with mental health issues. She lives with her husband and numerous furred, feathered and finned family members in a rural Ontario farm house built in 1860.
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Xiii - Melanie G. Jackson
2013 by Melanie Jackson. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 09/28/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4918-1237-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4918-1238-9 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013915745
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Story by Melanie G. Jackson
Pictures by Dan Campeau
Edited by Káča Henley
CONTENTS
NOTE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
Dedication
For everyone who has ever dreamed of adventure.
Acknowledgments
The most significant thing I learned during the work on this book is that it takes a team to create a book. I wish to thank my support team from the bottom of my heart for, without each and every one of you, Bobbie Baxter might never have reached the reading public.
To Dan—for believing in the story so much that he gave his time and skills to illustrate it without ever having met me. (And to my brother Adrian, for connecting me with Dan.)
To Kaca—for her wisdom, editorial expertise, gentle assertion and constant encouragement, but most of all for her abiding friendship.
To Tony—for his research skills, generous sharing of historical knowledge, kind critique and belief in me through the years.
To Paula— for being the best sister anyone could wish for and for her generous provision of financial support for this project.
To all the volunteer readers (you know who you are) who offered invaluable comment about what would make XIII a better story.
To the team at Authorhouse who were consistently helpful, patient and professional. They were the final step in making this dream a reality.
Bless you all!
NOTE
It was our goal to maintain historical accuracy during each of Bobbie’s adventures as well as the integrity of the story. We apologize to better historians than we are if we didn’t get it exactly right. We hope that small errors will be forgiven and that the stories will encourage readers to do their own research into the historical times, people and places that spark their interest.
CHAPTER 1
B obbie Baxter woke up that morning in a state of high excitement. It was January 13 th , his thirteenth birthday. He had a big day ahead, with a party all planned, as it was also his grandfather’s one hundredth birthday.
Hurrying to get dressed and brush his hair, Bobbie thought about all the times his grandfather had told him that thirteen was a special year for Baxter boys. He couldn’t wait to get started on his special year. He was now a teenager—almost an adult. He felt different already, as if sleeping from yesterday to today had changed him somehow.
When Bobbie got down to the dining room, Grandpa Robert was already there, in his wheel chair, at his usual spot at the table. His father was reading the newspaper and sipping coffee as his mother brought in a tray loaded with bacon, scrambled eggs and a pile of toast.
Good morning, birthday boys,
she said to both her son and father-in-law.
Happy Birthday, son,
smiled Rob Baxter, looking up from his paper, and to you too, Dad,
to his father. Bobbie’s mother sat down and they all started helping themselves to breakfast.
Bobbie’s mother was considerably younger than his father, who had been married before. Bobbie was an only child, as his father’s first wife had been killed in an accident before they had a family. Rob Baxter had thrown himself into his career as a doctor, and hadn’t thought of marrying again for many years. It was not until Leslie had appeared to work as his receptionist that he thought he could fall in love again. Her sunny disposition and caring nature had turned his head and he had soon asked her out to dinner. She, in turn, was smitten with the soft-spoken gentleman whose hair was already greying at the temples.
Bobbie arrived at the end of the first year that Rob and Leslie were married. Both parents were jubilant. They wanted their child to have all the benefits of a two-parent family and were a bit concerned that, because Rob was older, their son might miss out on some of the things a boy with a younger father could experience. Grandpa Robert, although by then well along in years, also enjoyed being a part of family life.
Bobbie had never ever felt let down. His parents were always there for him, for his school and sporting events, and his grandfather loved helping him with his homework. When Bobbie was born, Grandpa Robert was already retired from his job as a history teacher at a private boys’ school, and lived with his family in the house where Baxters had lived for generations. It was a solid red brick building, located at 13 Brewers Lane, just a few blocks from the Toronto distillery district where Gooderham & Worts had been important in the business lives of previous Baxter generations. As Grandpa Robert grew older, some of the downstairs rooms had been renovated to make a bedroom, bathroom and private sitting room for him, all wheel-chair friendly.
The companies that had distilled alcohol, at one point producing one quarter of all spirits shipped throughout Canada, had long been closed. After a period of popularity as a desirable location for filming movie and TV productions, the area had been rejuvenated as a centre for theatre, dance, music and art. The family often enjoyed the short walk to the popular area to take in new art exhibits, visit a café or restaurant, or merely to enjoy the spirit of the community.
Every day after school, Bobbie would go straight to Grandpa Robert’s rooms and sit with him until dinner time, when his father came home from work. On many days Bobbie would do his homework under his grandfather’s helpful scrutiny, or his grandfather would tell him wonderful stories from history. It was also Grandpa Robert who told Bobbie that thirteen was a special year for Baxter boys. When Bobbie asked how it was special, Grandpa Robert winked at him and said it was a secret he would find out on his thirteenth birthday.
After the birthday breakfast Bobbie’s father took him into the front hall of the house, to where the eight foot tall grandfather clock stood. Bobbie, you’ve watched me wind this clock every Sunday for years. As of today, now that you’re thirteen, it’s your job. Why don’t you just show me if you know how to do it?
Rob Baxter stepped back to allow Bobbie room in front of the clock.
Bobbie had indeed watched his father perform this duty many, many times, but he was still a bit anxious—he had never yet touched the clock himself. He felt like the centre of a family ceremony, which in fact he was. His mother stood off to the side, and his grandfather had wheeled himself into the hall so he could watch as well.
First Bobbie turned the key in the long door of the tower of the clock. Inside were a pendulum and a long chain. As it was time to wind the clock, the weight was fully dropped to the bottom of the tower. Bobbie could see another weight near the top of the tower. Is this the one I am supposed to pull down, Dad?
Bobbie asked.
That’s right, son. Grasp it firmly and slowly pull it straight down.
Bobbie did as his father directed him. Gripping the heavy weight in his hand, he instantly felt a vibration course through his body, rather like the rumble one feels when a streetcar approaches on its tracks. He let go of the weight quickly.
Keep going, son, it won’t bite.
I thought I felt something,
Bobbie said as he grasped the weight again. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his Grandpa nodding to him. He found it took some strength to pull it until the weight at the other end rose to its stop at the top of the long case, but he completed his task. The vibration he had felt continued but he found