After much discussion, it was agreed that Rio should stay in California on a more permanent basis and that when his mother was well enough she would fly out here to live with them. There was an orchestra in LA should she want to join, but if not, she’d be surrounded by her family in a place that made her heart smile.

Once the decision had been made, Rio and his grandmother had spent a whole weekend redecorating her old bedroom, and she hadn’t even grumbled when he accidentally spilled paint on the floorboards. Instead she’d just laughed right down to her belly. She laughed a lot these days. It was one of the nicest sounds Rio knew.

That and the sound of the gray whale.

Knowing that Ocean Bay was his new home, it was if the final shackles had been lifted and Rio could truly start to live again. Not life as before. But a new life.

Days were filled with classes, with ice cream, with activities—all the usual things any eleven-year-old did. But they were also filled with adventure. Boat trips out on the Spyhopper as she skipped her way across the ocean.

Not just watching whales. Not just counting them. But saving them.

One whale at a time.

While Rio hopped impatiently from foot to foot, his phone pinged with an alert from the Happywhale database. Marina had helped set it up so every time a sighting or photo of White Beak was uploaded, it would let him know.

Rio opened his phone and then gasped. “Grandma! Look!”

She peered closely at the phone. “Is that . . . ?”

On screen was a photo of White Beak in the lagoons. She looked healthy and well and happy. But that wasn’t it. Swimming alongside her was a tiny gray calf. A mother and her child, together.

“Now, isn’t that a sight,” Grandma murmured. “She made it.”

It was in that moment that Rio’s heart didn’t just smile. It actually somersaulted with happiness. Because walking hesitantly through the arrival gates was someone he recognized. Someone who was wearing a peacock-colored silk scarf and who carried a violin case in her left hand. Someone who was scanning the crowd intently before resting her gaze on him.

“MUM!”

And then Rio ran forward, spinning his arms like cartwheels before finally throwing himself into his mother’s arms.

Author’s Note

Something about whales has always fascinated me—perhaps ever since I was in my early twenties and went to Baja, Mexico, with my best friend and saw my first ever gray whale. It was just a glimmer—a hint of a tail and the long exhalation of breath.

Years later, just before the pandemic, I returned to Baja, this time with my husband with the specific intention to go whale watching as research for this book. We traveled to the marine-protected lagoons and spent a life-changing four days out on small skiffs. We must have seen hundreds of gray whales—spectacular breaches, spyhops within yards of the boat, and the best sight of all, rainbow hearts suspended in their breath. We saw males, females, and calves—some hanging by the boats for long periods of time, seemingly as fascinated by us as we are by them. There was one moment that will stay with me forever and that was the sight of a gray whale staring up at me from beneath the water. Her gaze pinned upon mine. If you have never seen a whale in the wild, then I hope I have captured some of their wonder and magnificence for you.