Winter Shadows

by Margaret Buffie

  That stupid overgrown boy, deliberately baiting Robert, and then harrying me all the way to my carriole. Now there is no goose to roast or fish to poach, and there are nineteen people to serve tomorrow. And to muddle things further, Papa has invited neighbors for a ceilidh afterward. What will Robert think of one of his church elders having a party of music and dance? If he opposes it, he is more like the bishop than I care to think about. Perhaps Robert will realize how a few social evenings can lighten a long winter. I can only hope.

  I decided on a thick dried-pea soup for dinner, with a round of raisin bannock. Pushing damp hair away from my forehead, I was feeling harassed and anxious, but refused to acknowledge the smug smile on Ivy’s face.

  The door banged open and Duncan surged in, holding a huge plucked goose by its feet in one hand and another large whitefish in the other. If I wasn’t still so furious, I might have hugged him. He was like a snowy messenger from heaven. His mother threw him a look of disgust and left the room.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too, Mother!” he called as the door snapped shut.

  I was trying to peel a waxed turnip, but it kept slipping out of my damp hands. Having him near reminded me of the argument last night.

  “Here,” he said, putting down the meat, “let me do that before you chop off a finger. Where are your girls?”

  “Oh, just go away, you sihkosis!”

  He bridled. “I speak a little Cree, you know. And I am not a weasel. I came bearing gifts. How can you still be mad at me? I should be the one who is hurt, not you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I am angry with you because you are a cîkahikanis! Hacking and breaking everything to pieces. You badger and push and –”

  “Oh, I am a mistanask as well, am I? An animal of different coats with a hatchet in hand!”

  I threw the turnip at him. He caught it and stood looking at me, bouncing it gently from hand to hand. I would not cry in front of him.

  “Beatrice. I know I have no right to offer unwanted advice. But there are other ways to freedom than marriage to a dull man – someone you hardly know, to whom you have barely spoken.” He shook his head. “Forgive my frankness.”

  Though he looked in earnest, I said, “But still you get your knife in, don’t you? You understand very little about Robert. You don’t know him as I do.” But did I know him? No. I didn’t. Yet, I could not retract my words.

  “You’re right, of course. Forgive me. I do not want us to fall out.”

  “When have we ever fallen in, Mr. Kilgour? I will forgive you if you promise never to interfere in my plans again.”

  We stood eye to eye, the silence between us charged with something that told me I could change everything in that one moment. But, just then, the girls bundled into the room with armloads of linen cloths and napkins.

  “We can’t work out which ones go on the tables,” said Dilly. I explained again and off they went to try once more.

  Duncan said, “The girls have become good friends. Come, Beatrice. Let’s be friends, too. I’ll be your kitchen slave for the day as penance for being such an overbearing okimâw. You be the boss and let me be the helper.” With hands pressed around the turnip, he looked like a little boy caught stealing someone else’s ball and asking to keep it.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re just showing off now. You’re making me an okîskwêw, Duncan Kilgour. Soon I will be completely crazy! Here is a knife. Cut the turnip in small pieces, so it will cook quickly in the morning.”

  As he chopped, he asked, “As long as we’re using Cree words, where is kôhkom?”

  “Upstairs. I asked her to come down, but she claims she’ll only get in the way.”

  He left the room and returned carrying Grandmother, who was tittering like a little girl, one hand to her lips. He set her down and ordered her to drink tea and supervise.

  “But I know little about the English Christmas my granddaughter’s mother used to make,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  “Don’t believe her,” I said. “Nôhkom was married for thirty years to a Scottish gentleman of high regard. She has cooked many splendid meals taught to her by my mother’s sister, Aunt Louisa, who visited us from Devon. Nôhkom is also a ruthless card player, thanks to Aunt Louisa.”

  Duncan laughed. “I must teach you a game called piquet, Aggathas.”

  “That would be good,” Grandmother said, with an impish smile that meant she already knew the game, but would tease him by pretending not to.

  A sudden pain pierced my heart, and I turned away from her merry little face. How could I tell her I would be leaving her soon, probably forever?

  As they talked and teased each other, I concentrated on making everything perfect for the last Christmas dinner I would have in this house. Once, when I sighed with weariness, Duncan put his hand on my arm. But I moved away – I could not bear tenderness from him. If only …

  By dinnertime, the tables were set, the food organized, and everyone but me had eaten their fill of pea soup. We set off for the church in the sledge. Ivy was bundled up against the cold, her rabbity nose twitching between the folds of her fur scarf. She sat beside Papa, her head down. He may have forgiven her, but he was still angry. I wondered if he’d caught the looks she’d cast my way during the day.

  The church was chilly as we assembled the choir in the small vestry and awaited the vicar’s presence. I greeted Miss Cameron. “All is ready for tomorrow’s dinner, and Papa is looking forward to seeing you there. “

  She smiled. “I’m happy to be coming, Beatrice. I have made plenty of creamed squash and ginger cakes.”

  Robert Dalhousie welcomed the girls and the church choir. Although he smiled at me warmly, I responded with coolness. He frowned, and I felt a twinge of satisfaction.

  When we filed through the nave, the little church was full. It smelled of wet fur, leather, and the lingering odor of barn animals that had been fed or milked before church. The dark narrow faces and smooth round visages of Ojibway and Cree were mixed with those with freckles and red-tinged hair from their Celtic ancestors.

  Our congregation always sits quietly. Robert is not an inspiring speaker, but at least he doesn’t bounce on his heels and shout like Bishop Gaskell did. Both choirs did me proud, and, on the way home, I hummed my favorite Christmas song under my breath. Soon the others sang the words, and even Duncan joined in on the seventh verse with great gusto:

  This time of the year is spent in good cheer,

  And neighbors together do meet

  To sit by the fire, with friendly desire,

  Each other in love to greet;

  Old grudges forgot are put in the pot,

  All sorrows aside they lay;

  The old and the young doth carol this song

  To drive the cold winter away.

  Duncan said, “This is a bit of good advice, don’t you agree, Mother? We have been fortunate to find each other again, and now you are married to a better man than ever could be found on earth! So let’s put old grudges in the pot and lay aside all sorrows for one day!”

  What old grudges? Was he referring to me and Ivy? Or himself and Ivy?

  Ivy nodded, then turned toward my father. He put one arm around her waist and began to sing “O Holy Night.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. The rest of us joined Papa, as Tupper and our ancient horse, Baxter, pulled us homeward through the cold winter night. For the first time in a long while, the shadows floated away, into the starry sky.

  34

  CASS

  Martin tried to leave me at the door, but I dragged him inside. The kitchen was empty, but we heard voices down the hall. I decided bold was best, so I left him there with instructions, in case I needed a quick getaway, and walked straight to the living room. The blue lights on the powdery white tree winked smugly at me. Did I really expect that monstrosity to be gone as a kind of peace offering? Daisy waved. She looked so different with that cap of dark hair and the slim new glasses. I knew then my decision wasn’t
just about getting even with Jean.

  Dad opened his mouth, but Jean touched his arm and said, “Sit down, Cassandra.”

  I was standing close to a chair. I sat on the arm, ready to take off. Jean cleared her throat. “When I saw Daisy, I was shocked, as you can imagine. I assumed it was done deliberately to hurt me. But Daisy assures me it was a gift from you and Jonathan and that this gift had been decided beforehand.”

  Dad and Daisy looked as if they had never told a fib in their lives.…

  “So,” she continued, “I feel it’s better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. Therefore, I am going to –”

  “Am I the darkness?” I interrupted, my voice tight.

  “Cass …,” Dad warned.

  “No. I want to know. Do you see me as the darkness?”

  “Cass!”

  “No, no, Jonathan, I think that’s a fair question,” Jean said. “Of course, you aren’t the darkness, Cassan …” she glanced at Dad “ … Cass. I meant that in this instance, I prefer to take the high road after last night’s fiasco. I would like to have been consulted about this … uh … gift to Daisy, but after hearing her explanation, I don’t believe much harm has been done.” She gave Daisy a small smile. “But you must realize, Cass, that Daisy is my daughter, and I need to know beforehand when things like this are done.”

  I shrugged, examining the hole in the toe of my brown sock.

  Her voice grew hard. “You know, that shrug tells me you aren’t really taking in what I am saying. And to get back to last night, it was embarrassing, to say the least. I had something exciting to tell everyone and you –”

  I buttoned my jacket. I’d heard enough.

  “Jean,” Dad said, “you’re okay with Daisy’s early Christmas present, so let’s leave it at that. We should have told Cass in private about the baby. She was shocked by the news. As was I. She knows that her mom and I tried for a second child, but …”

  I lost it then. “Mom’s name was Fiona! Why do you never say it in front of her? There isn’t even one picture of Mom up in this house. Why is that, Dad?”

  “Because things have changed, Cass. Accept it, honey.”

  I shouted, “Accept what? That our life before Jean means nothing? Accept that because Mom doesn’t exist anymore in your life, I can’t have her in mine? Accept that you can’t even say her name for fear of hurting Jean? That everything Mom loved – our photo albums, her books, our Christmas stuff – are packed away somewhere in the barn? I had to put most of her antiques in Aunt Blair’s basement just to keep them from being thrown out!”

  “Cass. Stop!”

  I pointed at Jean. “You’ve let her throw Mom away! Don’t you get it, Dad? And soon she’ll have your baby to coo over, and Mom will be pushed even farther back! Look at that fake tree. It’s hideous. Everything in this house is Jean – there’s no US here anymore, Dad!” My nose were running. I used my jacket sleeve to wipe it.

  Daisy ran at the tree and, with a swing of her arm, knocked it sideways. It bounced right back, while plastic blue and silver bobbles bounced across the floor. The lights kept on blinking.

  “I hate this stupid tree, Mom! I told you to wait for Cass! I told you she was nicer to me. Like a real sister. And, today, she did this great thing for me, and you just made it all stink again!” She grabbed one end of a branch and shook it hard. She looked like a mad little squirrel trying to destroy a robot tree. It was so comical, I laughed.

  “Daisy! Stop it! What are you doing?” Jean cried. She pointed at me. “You think this is funny? I’ve tried to be nice to you, Cassandra. I’ve bent over backwards to be nice … but all I get back is sarcasm and nasty asides. Look at the havoc you’re causing right now! I’ve had it up to here with you! You’re like this brick wall I keep banging my head against!”

  Dad said, “Jean! Please! This is getting way out of –”

  “Well, the head can take a break! The wall is leaving!” I shouted. “I’m going to live with Blair.” I ran out.

  Daisy followed, hot on my heels. Martin must’ve heard because the truck was warmed up and ready to go.

  “Daisy, go back in the house,” I said as she ran after me, struggling into Dad’s ski jacket. Snow sparkled around her, landing like crystals on her dark hair.

  “No! I want to go with you. I can’t stand Mom anymore. I won’t go back!”

  Dad opened the front door. “Daisy! Your mother says to get in here now!”

  “I’m going with Cass!” She snuck under my arm, climbed into the truck, and fell into the backseat.

  “Just go, Martin,” I said, as Dad slid down the front walk in his slippers.

  “No. I won’t,” Martin replied firmly.

  I glared at him, locked my door, and put on my seat belt.

  Dad’s face hovered outside my window. I rolled it down a few inches. Great puffs of vapor hung in the air as he spoke. “Come back. We’ll calm down and sort this out.” He was shivering.

  “I’ve told Daisy to go back in, but I’m not coming. Not tonight, Dad. I can’t.” I was surprised to hear how calm I sounded.

  “And I’m not going back in either!” Daisy said, her arms wrapped tightly around Dad’s huge jacket.

  “I think you should, Daisy. This’ll only make your mom more angry at me,” I said.

  “I don’t want her to be mad at you at all!”

  “So go inside. Please?”

  “Yes, Daisy, come inside. You’ve had enough, sweetie,” Dad said. “You can go to your room, watch TV, and I’ll bring you up something to eat. We’ll talk.”

  She pushed out her lips to think. “Okay … but I’m not talking to Mom!”

  “Not if you don’t want to. But you might want to,” Dad said.

  “I won’t!”

  “Fine. Look, Cass, I don’t like you running away like this all the time. Blair does not have the right to fill your head with stuff. You can’t live with her. She isn’t your …” He stopped.

  “My mother? No, but she’s Mom’s twin sister. And she hasn’t filled my head with anything. It’s just too … toxic in your house, Dad. I can’t think.”

  Martin spoke up. “Maybe let things cool for a day or so. If that’s okay, Mr. Cullen.”

  Dad sighed. “Okay. One more night at Blair’s. Then we work this out, Cass. You’re not going to live away from me. I need you with me. We’re a family.”

  He looked so upset, I almost gave in. But I said, “Whether I like it or not?”

  “I want you to really think about what you just said to Jean and to me and consider carefully what you are going to say next. I don’t want her upset this badly again, Cass, with the baby and all.”

  I looked him straight in the eye. “I will think about it. But, Dad, if Jean isn’t willing to let Mom come back into that house somehow, nothing is going to work between us. Or between me and you. You and Jean also have to talk.”

  He swallowed hard. “You’re right. I’ve been hoping … yeah … okay. I’ll see you around lunchtime tomorrow. Come on, Daisy.”

  As she crawled out from the seat behind me, she whispered, “He called me sweetie!”

  I watched them walk to the house, Dad’s arm around her shoulders. “Well, there’s one thing more or less fixed. Daisy and Dad are in sync.”

  “Thanks to you,” Martin said, putting the truck in gear.

  “Yeah, but everything else is like Humpty Dumpty, isn’t it? Can’t put it together again.”

  I looked back at the house. A small figure in a long dress and dark coat strode up the walkway, followed by other fluttery figures. I knew who it was. Like me, Beatrice was busy messing up her life. It hurt to think she wasn’t somewhere on this frozen earth right now. I wanted to talk to her – really talk to her. I hated leaving that house.

  The moon was high. Snowflakes sprinkled down, shining and flashing like tiny stars. The church lights were off, and Reverend Chancel’s car was gone. The long driveways of the new houses along the road were covered in freshly pressed
tire tracks, the houses glowing with colored lights and winking wreaths.

  “Every year, a week before Christmas, Mom, Dad, and I would go out after supper to see the city lights in Selkirk,” I said to Martin. “We’d drive slowly up and down the streets. Most houses were pretty sedate. We liked the crazy ones. Ours was always covered with Santa and Rudolph heads and big snowmen with lights inside. And Mom always put these crumbling red cellophane wreaths in every window, with an orange light in each one.…”

  “Everything has changed for you,” Martin said. “It’s been really hard, I can see that.”

  “But?”

  “No buts, Cass. I have both parents. Nothing has changed for me. My dad is nuts about my mom. He always says a man should love his wife a little more than she loves him. I think it’s pretty equal in their case, but he’s the kind of guy who brings her tea in bed every morning, you know? They argue, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve had a great place to grow up in.”

  “They don’t work in the restaurant? I haven’t met them yet.”

  “No. They’ve been on holiday in Mexico. They go every year and leave the early Christmas rush to us. They’ll be back bullying everyone in a few days.” He grinned.

  “So you’re an only child like me?”

  “No, I have two brothers. Only a year apart. Both are at university in Winnipeg. They live in residence. They’ll be home a few days before Christmas.”

  “I’m sorry, Martin.”

  “For what?”

  “I’ve been so focused on me, I’ve hardly got to know anything about you. I’m so selfish. I feel as if I’m ruining everything between us. I’ll understand if you just, you know, want to dump me after this.”