Worlds Between

by Nordgren, Carl;

  Brian was behind the controls of the Bombardier, the engine on, the side door open for Maureen to jump in. After they settled he headed the snow craft right at the wolves, intending to drive them off. Maureen had been looking down at Grace to make sure she had her view of the scene obscured. When she noted his course she asked “Whatta’ ya doin’?”

  “I’m gonna chase ‘em away.”

  The wolves looked up when they realized the machine was coming closer.

  “They’re wolves, Brian. Wolves kill deer.”

  Three wolves stepped back from the kill but the black one stood his ground, first blood stains on their muzzles, growls curling their lips.

  Brian veered off to head towards the shore where he expected to find the River branch that would take them the final distance to the Reserve. Maureen turned to watch the wolves hunker down to their kill, keeping the view blocked for Grace, but studying it herself until it was too far behind them.

  After one false start they found the right branch and sped along. Grace sat still in her mother’s lap. No one spoke about what they had witnessed. As they followed the winding branch, Maureen felt her daughter relax, and then cuddle, and finally she fell asleep. She created a bed for her daughter on the floor with some blankets as Brian sped down the snow-covered River towards their destination. After tucking a blanket around their daughter, Maureen leaned forward and announced she’d like to drive, so they stopped to change places; it was Maureen’s cockpit now, and Brian settled in the back with their daughter.

  As she took over the controls Maureen said “I’ve been thinkin’ about my trip to see Mum. What if I asked Mary Fobister to come with me to help me care for Grace?”

  “Mary with you an’ Gracie in Ireland. That’s a picture.”

  The Bombardier rounded a wide bend and again the snow was deep so they plowed through as they drove over.

  “Eamon is the best of the best an’ sure Grace loves the idea of Katie an’ Tommy—”

  “That’s the only thing Patrick is doin’ that angers me, that he won’t meet Gracie. She is his sister.”

  “Well if you aren’t there with her maybe he will.”

  Maureen was quiet while Brian considered that possibility with a smile.

  “So Grace loves them, but they’re strangers, yeah, an’ she looks to Mary as her second mother. I have no way of knowin’ how long I might need to be with Mum; especially if she decides to come live here, I’ll be attendin’ to arrangements an’ that takes time and attention.”

  They rounded another bend and Brian saw a wisp of smoke drifting above the trees ahead of them.

  “See it?”

  “Must be Grassy Narrows.”

  They stopped again so Brian would be driving when they arrived. Maureen attended to their daughter, kneeling down to gently wake her.

  “Gracie. Gracie. We’re here honey.”

  Grace O’Malley jumped up and climbed the seat to look out the porthole. She wasn’t satisfied with her view—she didn’t see anyone—so climbed back down to lean into the cockpit to look out the windshield with her da as they came to the first cabin of Grassy Narrows Reserve. Smoke from its chimney was caught in the pines.

  Brian reached behind him to hug his daughter, supporting her to rest on his shoulder as he spoke to his wife. “Once I asked Joe Loon if he’d like to visit Ireland with me. He said he enjoyed my stories about it so much he saw no need.”

  “He’d rather see what you’ve put in his head?”

  “Somethin’ like that I guess, yeah.”

  “I wonder what that looks like, the Ireland he’s created in his imagination.”

  “I have imagined bringin’, say, Albert to Cong an’ then getting’ to listen, yeah, as he would describe what he saw to the others. Have you talked to Mary about goin’?”

  “I just thought of it.”

  There were three more cabins in sight, covered in the snow, and more smoke indicated more cabins were just back in the trees.

  Grace O’Malley was restless. “When am I going to see Little Stevie?”

  Brian rubbed the back of her head. “Just hang on, Gracie girl, we’re almost there.”

  “Or maybe Bri, what about this. Maybe Mary an’ your Gracie girl should go with you to Chicago, an’ then it makes all the sense for us to buy the Otter, yeah, so Dutch can fly all of you around.”

  The sound of the Bombardier approaching had drawn Albert and Old George from their cabins to walk down to the shoreline to greet their arrival. They waved to Brian and signaled the place they selected for him to bring the Bombardier up onto shore, then onto the road that cut through the trees. Brian stopped so they could climb in and Grace O’Malley asked where Little Stevie was and Albert gave directions to the cluster of cabins where many of Joe Loon’s clan spent the winter.

  The night sky was filled with so many bright stars that the Path of Souls was marked by a great streak of solid white starlight. The night was still and cold; the air seemed frozen. The people of Joe Loon’s clan and others—Sturgeon, Crane, and Bear clans were represented—were bundled in their warmest coats and hats and boots and blankets, gathered around the large fire circle where a great blaze was tended by two teenage boys and an elder.

  Smaller fires dotted the perimeter.

  Among the many joyously celebrating were Joe Loon and Naomi and Simon, Mary Fobister and Little Stevie, Albert and his wife and their daughter and son, Old George, Mathew Beaver and his wife and children, Louis Angeconeb and his wife and children, and the Burkes; the other clans were of similar size, and over fifty people were gathered, celebrating.

  The drummers beat their drums, and the singers chanted thanks and prayers to the Great Creator for all his many gifts. Many added thanks for sending them His son, Jesus the Christ.

  They danced to give praise and they danced to keep warm, and This Man danced with them, his great buffalo robe draped over his shoulders.

  A few quietly shared a bottle. After a sip, another joined the dance.

  They continued for much of an hour, the drums and the chants in a cycle of thankful praise, smoke from the fires rising to vanish in the night, the fog of their breath rising with it, the spirits joined, the Ancestors dancing above.

  When the drumming and singing stopped, a teenage girl from the Sturgeon clan took her sister by the hand, then Little Stevie took her other hand and Grace took his as the teenage girl invited all the children to join her. She shaped them into a choir, and they sang Silent Night, in the forest language.

  Grace knew the first lines.

  “Gichitwaa-dibikad, waaseyaaziwin maa, ayaamagad ayaad Mary, baanizid Abinoojii niigid, Christ sa gii-niigid.”

  Christmas afternoon offered a blue-sky dome for the bright white world. At the eastern edge of the last cluster of cabins was a clearing, and on the other side of the clearing a great thicket of bushy blue dogwood grew along the base of a sharp incline. In the summer the dogwood leaves formed a tight canopy that crowned at thirty feet. Even naked the dogwood branches were such an interwoven mass that every winter a good-sized snowdrift formed up against it and around it—the bushy trees and slope caught the wind and its snow; the smallest trees at the edge were scaffolding and a platform. This winter there had been two very heavy snowfalls by Christmas, and the winds blew just right, so there were many drifts and the largest was bigger than anyone remembered, over twenty feet tall and thirty feet deep for much of its over two hundred foot length.

  For days the boys and girls had been digging and shaping a growing complex of tunnels and caves in the massive drift. Nearly a dozen children worked on new construction or played in what had already been built, when Little Stevie showed Grace O’Malley the tunnel he helped build. Maureen and Mary stood close by as their children crawled into the mouth of a tunnel, then deep into the snowdrift and out of sight.

  Grace O’Malley went first, on her hands and knees, but after traveling six or seven feet in she stopped and rolled over on her back and took off her mitten so sh
e could use her finger to engrave the image of a moose in the snow wall above her. Little Stevie watched and waited. She finished, put her mitten back on, and on all fours she covered the ten more feet of tunnel to find it ended as a small cavity in the snow, just big enough for the two of them, the trunk and branches of a dogwood showing through. They squeezed in together, their legs folded knees to chins. They wiggled their backs against the snow wall and looked back at the silver light in the tunnel; Little Stevie began to sing.

  Maureen was on her knees leaning over to peer down the tunnel. She couldn’t see the children but could hear the singing. It was Silent Night, in English.

  Behind the two women, still back among the cabins and the trees, Brian and Joe Loon, Albert, Simon, and two other young men were headed their way. Albert told Brian that they were talking about trapping, so no useful purpose was served in translating for him, though he did share the occasional observation whenever they mentioned the portion of the River fished by the guests of The Great Lodge at Innish Cove.

  Joe Loon was listening to the others talking about their trapping, but was thinking about the best time to look for the big beaver that had lived on the River’s bank now flooded by the dam.

  “When the ceremony of the Christ baby’s birth is complete I will trap along Three Kill Creek. When I return it will be time to go to the new lake the white man has created. There is a secret there that will show us where the big beaver have gone.”

  Simon walked ahead of Joe Loon, to break the snow for him. He called back over his shoulder, “I will go with you Grandfather.”

  “We will wait for the marten moon as well so we can trap them along the ridges.”

  “I will be ready.”

  Little Stevie was still singing when Grace O’Malley grew bored and she led him back out of the tunnel. After their mothers rearranged their scarves and hats for them, Little Stevie showed Grace the entrance of a much longer tunnel. “Louie and Tall George, they built it. Others helped them. I helped them. But Louie and Tall George, they built it. They say it is the longest tunnel.”

  He led the way as the tunnel first went straight into the deepest and tallest portion of the snowdrift then offered tunnels left and right, down the center of the drift.

  Little Stevie turned left.

  Grace O’Malley turned right.

  When Little Stevie realized Grace had not followed him, he turned to follow her. She led the way for ten yards or more and then the tunnel opened up to the grand cavern of the tunnel system, one large enough for ten children, though Grace found only Louie and Tall George. The two boys could stand in the center of the cavern, where the ceiling was highest, and Tall George was at work carving out more space from the ceiling; Louie was on his knees, patting the walls, compacting the snow against and into the dogwood branches, making the walls sturdier. They both turned when Grace entered and smiled with pride when they saw the look of wonder on her face.

  She was amazed. She sat in the middle of the room and then Little Stevie sat next to her, and they were both amazed. The light shimmered silver blue. The domed space carved from the drift made her peaceful but the longer she sat there the more joyful she became, and she giggled and got up to dance about the room.

  Maureen and Mary stood at the opening of the long tunnel. So many children climbed in and out of one hole then another that Maureen, still learning the physics of big snow, began to accept it as safe and focused on Mary.

  “So if you’re askin’ me, an’ assumin’ you’re interested at all, yeah, I think what’s best for you an’ what’s best for the children an’ what’s best for me is all one in the same, an’ that’s for you an’ the children to go with Bri an’ Dutch to the States. I think some good would come of Little Stevie visitin’ the cities where so many of our guests come from, yeah. An’ it gives the children their best care, you an’ Bri’ lookin’ after ‘em rather than you an’ family we pretend she knows. An’ then there’s this, that Bri’s trip is six or seven days an’ I’m near certain mine will take twice that long.”

  “I have never been away from my people for more than two days.”

  “That’s why I said I won’t be tryin’ to convince you, it’s only goin’ to happen if you feel like takin’ an adventure an’ seein’ some part of the world that you’ve not known.”

  “I would like to help you Sister. I will talk with Naomi tonight.”

  “Thanks for even considerin’ it.”

  “You would have to lend me one of your traveling luggages or baggages.”

  “I figured we’d be buying you an’ Little Stevie what you’d be needin’ along with some travelin’ clothes, if you’d like.” Maureen switched to Ojibway to add, “To say thank you Sister.”

  When Maureen saw Brian approaching she left Mary to meet him half way and he stepped away from the men’s conversation about trapping.

  “She’s agreed to talk about it with Naomi tonight, about goin’ with you an’ the children an’ Dutch to Chicago.”

  “We need to know soon so we can finish our arrangements to use the Otter.”

  “Come see what the children have made. Grace has been explorin’.”

  At that moment Mary called out in alarm and Brian and Maureen saw the other men running the last distance to the big snowdrift. Brian pounded through deep snow and Maureen took his wake. Teenage boys tossed aside their toboggans, and Mary, and then Albert, joined the boys. The long length of the drift had caved in.

  Mary called the children’s names, and Maureen pleaded, “What is it?” Albert answered as he dug. “The drift collapsed. The children are buried.”

  But they could hear the children calling and their voices were strong as they expressed their alarm, and so they still moved quickly but their panic subsided. They could hear Grace O’Malley calling out that she was fine. They heard Little Stevie. Tommy Land was one of the tobogganers who dug where he heard his younger brother, Louie, who with Tall George was furiously digging up from the caved-in cavern. They met each other; Tommy pulled, Louie stood, and they tumbled out of the drift, followed by Tall George, as Brian, and then Maureen, arrived.

  Grace and Little Stevie’s voices had seemed to be right on top of each other, and when Albert dug away the next big armfuls of snow, he revealed the back of Little Stevie’s coat.

  “We’ve got them.”

  They dug away more snow and found Little Stevie had positioned himself as a barrier over Grace. He was on his hands and knees, and Grace’s head and torso were under his protection.

  Later that night Brian took a lantern from Joe Loon’s cabin where a pallet had been made for him and Maureen to spend the night. He left Maureen in conversation with the clan elder and followed the path through the trees to Mary Fobister’s cabin. Grace O’Malley had her pallet there, as an expansion of Little Stevie’s bed, so they could spend all of her stay together. Brian was coming to check on his daughter and to thank Little Stevie again for protecting their Grace girl and to tell him, again, that he was the best big brother Grace could ever hope for.

  But Mary greeted Brian with the news that Old George had visited the cabins and collected the children of Grassy Narrows to bring them to his cabin. She told him where to find it.

  When Brian arrived, Old George was surrounded by children and sitting on a stump next to the wood burning stove. The one room cabin was filled with the children. He realized Old George had been in the middle of telling them a story when he saw how his arrival disrupted it all. The children didn’t turn until Old George’s look condemned the visitor, and he told Brian to sit in the corner or leave; when Old George realized his command had been in the forest language, the language of storytelling, he repeated it in English, but Brian had figured out what he meant. He found a corner out of the children’s way and sat down on the floor, wishing immediately he was closer to the stove; he settled in, and wrapped himself tight.

  Grace O’Malley was sitting at Old George’s feet, next to Little Stevie. When she looked up and saw the
visitor was her da she was able to navigate the room so easily that Little Stevie didn’t realize she’d gone, Old George wasn’t aware of her movement, and Brian was surprised when she dropped to nestle into his lap.

  Old George returned to the ancient legend he was telling the children. It was a story he could tell only on a winter night when the ground was frozen. It was on a Christmas night six years earlier that Old George told this story of an orphan boy named New Star and his journey to find the greatest chief of all the people. It had become a new tradition, for him to gather all the children and tell them this story every Christmas night.

  He took a small step back into the story, and began again; Grace was learning the native tongue and understood some words and a few phrases; Brian had no understanding but loved the sound of it.

  Grace and her father enjoyed being so close to each other and so close to the room’s magic.

  “Long, long ago, tall dark storm clouds filled the sky. It began to rain. It rained day after day, day after day, until the earth was flooded. First the tallest trees were covered by the floodwaters. Then the tallest mountains were covered by the floodwaters. When the waters rose so high, all of the Original People that Great Creator had created were drowned. All of the animals that lived on the land were drowned. Only the creatures who could live in the water survived the terrible flood.

  “Many moons passed and the land was flooded. Sky Woman looked down on the great flood. She was so sad, for she missed the earth and all of its creatures. She was very lonely. That is when Great Sea Turtle who is the father of all turtles rose to the surface of the flood waters, for he did not like seeing Sky Woman so sad and lonely. That is when Great Sea Turtle called out to Sky Woman. Great Sea Turtle invited her to come down to rebuild the earth on the back of his great big shell.