“Doug? You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here, Chief. Give me some more time. I’ll get back to you soon with some answers.”
***
“Pau-aul,” Mike’s hand whizzed in front of his cousin’s frozen face, breaking his train of thought.
Paul blinked and looked over at his cousin, who was lounging beside him.
“It’s like you’re not even here,” said Mike. “Well, your body’s here but I don’t know where your mind is.”
Mike pulled a thick blade of grass out of the ground and placed it between his two thumbs, before holding it up to his lips. He blew into the grass, releasing a hollow, wind-filled sound.
“Just thinking about that conversation,” said Paul. “It was pretty weird.”
“You mean the way old Mrs. April actually wants to help someone out for a change? Instead of just gossiping?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Yeah,” Mike laughed. “Remember when Mrs. Frances moved in next door to her? She had about twenty cats – or at least that’s what Mrs. April told all of us. She must’ve gone knocking on every door in Colchester, telling them about the cats and how ‘appalling’ it was to have so many of them in such a small house.”
“We didn’t stop hearing about it for months.”
“And by the end, it was forty cats!”
Paul laughed and Mike sat up. “This story was different, though. It sounded pretty tough for that kid,” Mike said. “But, I’m sure your dad will be able to help him out.”
“I hope so,” said Paul.
“It would be good if he got a job with Mr. Brunner.”
Paul wondered about that but didn’t say anything.
“How about some tennis – you up for that?” Mike asked. He picked up his pile of comics carefully.
“Definitely,” Paul said. He loved to play tennis – or any sport for that matter – and they had a homemade tennis court just behind the cottage. Paul’s uncle, who often came to visit, had transformed an old potato patch into the court many years ago. It was now Paul’s responsibility to maintain it by smoothing out the dirt and marking the lines when it rained. Paul had just done this the day before, so he knew that it was ready to use.
“Hey, look! Here comes your dad.” Mike peered closer. “Who’s that with him?”
Mr. Martin walked up the driveway with a tall, black-haired boy beside him. The boy’s clothing was rough looking. His dark eyes absorbed the cottage’s appearance and he looked briefly at Paul and Mike before looking at the ground again.
“Paul, Mike, I’d like you to meet Tom Whitehawk,” Mr. Martin said.
Paul and Mike stood up, brushing stray blades of grass from their knees and then hesitated. Mr. Martin made the teeniest motion with his index finger, which went unnoticed to everyone except Paul, who immediately held out his hand in greeting to Tom. They shook hands shyly and Mike followed suit.
“Nice to meet you,” Paul added, unsure of what else to say.
“We’re going to go inside and have a talk,” Mr. Martin said. “See you later, boys.” Tom walked beside Mr. Martin towards the front door.
“Let’s go play tennis in the back, Mike.” He said it loudly enough that his father would have heard.
“Yeah!”
The boys ran off towards the backyard, dodging
the occasional tree root. Then Paul stopped abruptly, signalling to his cousin to do the same.
“What? Are you tired already?” Mike joked.
“Shhh,” Paul said, gesturing to the window that looked into Mr. Martin’s study. It was open. “We can listen in to what’s going on.”
The pair flopped down onto the grass just below the window, keeping their heads low in order to avoid being noticed. The cottages here were built closely
together and Paul could practically see into his next door neighbour’s kitchen. He hoped that the neighbours wouldn’t choose now to look out their window, since he and Mike probably looked suspicious.
“Can’t hear anything,” Mike grumbled.
Paul peered through the window. “That’s because no one’s in there yet. Maybe they’re –”
He stopped mid-sentence at the sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps.
“Take a seat,” they heard Mr. Martin say.
A heavy chair could be heard, then the sound of rustling of papers.
“Tom, Mrs. April tells me that you’re in a rough situation. Do you mind telling me what’s happened?”
Tom hesitated. Enough time went by that Paul wondered whether he was ever going to answer.
“My mother hadn’t been doing too good for a while. She hadn’t worked in a long time. Then she got really sick with tuberculosis. She died a few weeks ago.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Mr. Martin said.
“Me and my younger sister are staying with my grandparents.”
A considerable pause followed and Paul imagined that Mr. Martin was considering whether or not to pry any further.
“And, Mrs. April says that now you’re looking for work?”
“Yes, my grandparents don’t have jobs. Now it’s my turn to make money for the family. My mother would’ve wanted me to take good care of them.”
“What about your schooling? Are you finished with that for now?”
“Walpole Island’s schools only go to Grade 6. So that’s as far as I can go on the reserve. My family can’t afford to send me to Chatham, but my school teacher hopes I’ll be able to continue at some point. She understands, though.”
“How old are you?”
“I just turned fifteen.”
Now it was Mr. Martin’s turn to pause. “Well, I think that I might be able to help you.”
Paul and Mike craned their necks and strained their ears. This is what they’d been waiting for.
“One of our neighbours, Mr. Brunner, runs a fishing business here on Lake Erie. He has one other employee who goes out to do the fishing, and then he sells his fish to stores in Windsor. He’s been doing well lately and he’d be glad to take on another worker.”
“That’s great,” said Tom. “Thank you.” It was impossible not to recognize the relief in Tom’s voice.
“Do you know how to fish?”
“My grandfather taught me and I’ve done some fishing on the reserve. My grandfather says fishing is different on Lake Erie – bigger boats and more catches. But, I’m sure I’ll be able to learn quickly.”
“Okay, he’ll want you to start right away. You can settle your hours later. The last thing is that Mr. Brunner doesn’t have room for you to board with him. I know that you had hoped to avoid going back and forth between here and the reserve every day.”
Paul turned onto his knees and sneaked a glance into his father’s study, where he saw Tom’s shoulders slump against the chair. He could sense that the excitement in the room had evaporated.
“I don’t know if I’d be able to make it,” Tom said. “My grandparents don’t have a car to drive me. It would take too much time anyway.”
“Actually, what I was going to say, Tom, was that I have already spoken with my wife and we’ve decided that we’d like you to stay at our cottage for the summer. You can bunk in Paul’s room. You’ll be close to your work and we’ll provide your meals, so that all of your earnings can go back to your family.”
“That’s so nice of you, Mr. Martin, but I would have to pay you for the rent once I’m able to.”
“Don’t you worry about that. How about you go and talk it over with your grandparents?”
Paul got up and started walking in the direction of the backyard, having heard enough.
Chapter 5
Tom Whitehawk
&nb
sp; “Hey, Paul,” Mike jogged up behind him, “looks like you’re getting a roommate. Did you hear that? Your dad just said that Tom’s going to share your room.”
“I know, I can hear, Mike. It would have been nice if he had least told me in advance.”
“True enough. Hey – let’s play some tennis. You can take your frustrations out on the ball.”
Paul smirked. “All right.” He picked up a racket and handed one to Mike.
“I call the far side!” yelled Mike, racing for the court. Paul realized his cousin had noticed the sun’s position and had taken the advantage. He adjusted his ball cap further down on his face to block the sun.
“Bring it on!” Paul yelled, racket in hand. He bent his knees, holding his racket to the side like a defensive weapon.
Mike launched the ball above his head. The white sphere with the word ‘Dunlop’ flew in a neat line over the net, bouncing on the ground, where Paul’s backhand swing whacked it to the other side. Mike sprinted, scooping the ball over the barrier. It curved broadly,
allowing Paul to get under the ball and smash it hard. Mike dove backwards, but the tennis ball escaped his reach.
“That’s 1-0!” Paul said. He and Mike didn’t follow standard scoring rules for tennis. They simply rallied, awarding one point to the winner of each rally.
Mike tossed the ball back to Paul who caught it and raised his arm to serve. He was about to serve when his sister and her friend, Vincie, came running out onto the court.
“Can we play?” Mary Anne asked. Her brown eyes were pleading and it was just so annoying.
“Not now,” Paul answered. His little sister and her friends always wanted to play with him and his friends. Always clinging like little barnacles.
“You can’t hog the tennis court, Paulie!”
Paul put his racket down. “Fine. You guys play for
a while.” Mike dropped his racket and followed his cousin. He found Paul slumped in the shade of the house and collapsed alongside him.
“Hey, you still burned up about your dad not asking you about sharing your room?” Mike asked.
Paul shook his head. “No. I’m actually worried for Tom.”
“Worried how?” asked Mike.
“The more I think about him working for Bud Brunner, the more I wonder if this was such a good idea.”
“Brunner is a bit of a creep,” agreed Mike. “But there are worse things that could happen for a summer job, right?”
***
Mr. Martin’s shoulder grazed against the loft’s doorway as he climbed up the stairs. The frame of a cot dragged behind him, bouncing over the incline. Paul followed behind his dad, carrying a thin mattress folded once over. Mr. Martin placed the metal skeleton down and Paul stretched out the mattress over top.
“Okay, that’s that. Now I should be going to the office.” Mr. Martin unrolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt, pulling them taut and swiftly attaching his cuff links.
Mr. Martin had an office in downtown Windsor, about a half-hour drive away from Colchester. He worked in one of the tallest buildings in the city and could see the American city of Detroit on the other side of the Detroit River from his office window.
“Tom should be arriving soon,” Mr. Martin said. He picked up his suit jacket that he had tossed on a chair and pulled it over his shoulders. “It will be nice to have this ready for him.”
Two nights ago, the Martins had gotten a telephone call from Tom, saying that he was going to accept Mr. Brunner’s job and the Martins’ offer of staying at their cottage. Mr. Martin told Paul that Tom had to borrow the neighbour’s phone to make the call, which was an eye opener for Paul.
“You and Tom will be sharing your room. And don’t forget to show him around,” said Mr. Martin. “Introduce him to your friends – make him feel at home.”
“I will, Dad.”
“Your mom’s going to put out the sheets and find some blankets. Anyway, I’m off. I’m going to stay in Windsor at your grandma’s for the night.”
Mrs. Martin’s mother lived in Windsor and Mr. Martin often stayed with her when he needed to be at the office for an extended period of time.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of dusting, cleaning and organizing. Mrs. Martin insisted that every corner of the cottage be scrubbed.
“Mom, it’s just my closet – I’m sure Tom won’t mind if I have a cluttered closet,” said Paul. His complaints fell on deaf ears. Paul realized this was a great excuse for his mother to get the cottage thoroughly cleaned. He had barely finished when he heard Tom arrive. By the time he got downstairs, Mrs. Martin and Mary Anne had already introduced themselves. He thought Tom looked uncomfortable, standing in the hallway in his faded trousers and t-shirt.
“Paul, why don’t you take Tom up to your room so he can put away his things,” said Mrs. Martin.
Tom removed his scuffed-up sneakers, leaving them in the hall, and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. He followed Paul up the stairs. Paul racked his brain for topics of conversation and settled on the obvious.
“We’re going to be sharing my room,” he said. “The cot’s for you and you can put your stuff in that dresser.” Paul gestured to a set of drawers which had been emptied earlier that day.
Tom plunked his bag down on the cot and began pulling out his clothes, piling them in the dresser. Paul noticed that apart from his clothing, he had very few personal belongings. From the very bottom of his bag, however, Tom pulled out a small fabric pouch and placed it on the windowsill beside his bed.
Tom noticed Paul eyeing it. “It’s sacred tobacco,”
he said. “In my culture, it’s a great honour to be given tobacco like this. We use it in ceremonies and we believe that the smoke it produces brings prayers to the spirit world. My grandfather gave it to me before I left as a reminder of my life back home.”
“Wow, that’s neat,” Paul said, fascinated by the importance that the contents of the tiny satchel could have. “I’m meeting my friend, Abby, down at the park this afternoon. Do you want to come?”
“Sure,” Tom answered.
The boys went back downstairs and pulled on their shoes.
“We’re going to the park, Mom!”
The Martin’s cottage was on a street just off the main road. On the other side of their street was a large open field which looked out onto Lake Erie and turned into a steep hill by the water’s edge. Paul and his friends called this area the ‘park’ and often convened there. Paul could see that Abby had already arrived and was sitting at the shore of the water, watching the waves roll in and out.
“Hey, Abby,” Paul said, once they’d reached her. “This is Tom.”
Paul had talked with Abby right after he’d found out that Tom was going to be staying with the Martins.
“Hi!” Abby said.
Tom smiled and nodded. The two boys settled in beside her, as a large lake freighter passed in the distance.
“How do you like Colchester so far?” Abby asked.
“It’s nice.”
“Well, I’m sure you haven’t seen too much of it yet. We can show you around later. I live down there.” She pointed to her left, although her house wasn’t actually visible from the park.
“Lake Erie reminds me of home,” Tom said, gesturing to the water. “It’s a lot like Lake St. Clair at the reserve.”
The name of the lake triggered Paul’s memory. “Hey, I fish there with my dad every summer,” he said.
Tom smiled. “Yeah, there’s a lot of good fishing in those parts. My family’s always telling me how important it is for our people. Also hunting and farming, or so I’m told. I haven’t had a chance to do either of those, yet.”
“So,” Abby asked, “where exactly is the reserve?”
“On Walpole Island. Probably about two hours away from here by car.” He hesitated. “I’m Ojibway. My ancestors came to Walpole after the Huron were chased out by the Iroquois. Later, people of the Potawatomi and Ottawa tribes came too.”
Abby nodded. “I’m sorry about your mom,” she added softly, not bothering to pretend that Paul hadn’t told her.
“Thanks. I’m worried about my little sister. She was really close to my mom and now that I’m gone too...”
“You’re doing as much as you can, though,” Abby said. She wiped some sand off her freckled cheek. “You’re working all summer to help your family.”
“I guess. And I couldn’t have gone to school anyway. We couldn’t afford for me to go there off-reserve.”
Two days ago, this comment would have puzzled both Paul and Abby. But thanks to Paul and Mike’s eavesdropping, they were more informed.
“What was it like – your school, I mean?” Abby asked.
“Not very exciting. I was taught in a one-room school by white teachers. We were never taught our own language. I don’t even know how to speak Ojibway. I can understand some of it. What about you? Where do you both go to school?”
Paul answered first.
“I go to a French school in Ottawa, called École Garneau.”
He couldn’t help thinking about how very different his school life was compared to Tom’s. They had separate classrooms for each grade, a lunch room, a big school yard and – although he didn’t always admit it – really good teachers.
“I go to a school in Windsor,” Abby said. “My family just lives in Colchester for the summer.”
After a moment of quiet passed, Paul spoke up about something that had been bothering him. “So when do you start working for Mr. Brunner?”
“Tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock sharp. I’m so happy to have a job. And a job that pays pretty good too. I’d been looking for work for almost a month. I tried Windsor and a bunch of small towns near the reserve before I decided to come all the way out to Colchester.”
Paul lifted off his baseball cap and hooked it over his knee. He decided to give Tom some background information on his new employer. He recounted how all the kids in the neighbourhood found that he kept to himself so much it made everyone afraid to go near his property. Then he told him about the baseball incident and how he was angry at someone for not doing night time deliveries.
Showdown at Border Town Page 3