Reading the Bones

by Gina McMurchy-Barber

  “Now don’t rush off. If you’re really serious about selling that thing, I could probably give you a better deal.”

  Mr. Grimbal wore a poker face, and I had no idea what he was thinking. “I want three thousand dollars,” I told him. “It’s that or no deal.” I knew it was me talking, but I hardly recognized my own voice.

  “Three thousand dollars? You’ve got to be kidding. No one in their right mind would pay that much. But seeing that I’m in a good mood today, I’ll give you half that.”

  If I even hesitated, I knew he’d win. By now I had a pretty good idea what my artifact was worth, so I turned and walked quickly past Tsonokwa and out the door. As I moved up the sidewalk, Mr. Grimbal yelled at me from the door. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a deal. Come back in an hour and I’ll have the cash.”

  I tore up Beecher, passed the petroglyphs, and turned left on Sullivan. I didn’t slow down until I knew I was out of Mr. Grimbal’s sight. That was when I first felt the prickle of guilt as I thought about Eddy again. But she didn’t know anything about the little carving. I reasoned that the old man in the burial had no use for it, while Mom and I really needed the money.

  I ran into the backyard and bolted up the back stairs, avoiding the form under the orange tarp. I wanted to call Mom and tell her I’d won some money in a contest. What kind of a contest? I’d have to think first.

  As I reached for the phone, I heard a knock at the front door. Then Uncle Stuart called out to my aunt. “Is Peggy back yet? There’s someone here to see her.”

  Immediately, I knew it was Mrs. Hobbs and rushed down the hall. Before I got to the front door I saw Chester’s nose sniffing just inside the doorway. I bent down and rubbed his head, but when I glanced up it wasn’t Mrs. Hobbs standing behind him. It was TB. I frowned in disappointment.

  “Hi, TB. What are you doing here ... with Chester?”

  “I’m looking after him. I came over because I thought you’d want to know that Mrs. Hobbs was taken by ambulance to Peace Arch Hospital early this morning.”

  Did someone just slam me in the face with a frying pan? “She’s sick? She’s gone to the hospital?” My ankles melted, and I was afraid I’d collapse into a heap.

  I felt my aunt place her hands on my shoulders,which seemed to help steady me. “Hi, I’m Peggy’s aunt. I heard you tell Peggy that Mrs. Hobbs is in the hospital. Thank you for taking the time to come here to tell her.” Then she looked into my face. “We can go there right now if you want.”

  I was in a daze, but somehow I managed to nod.

  CHAPTER 9

  As Aunt Margaret and I drove up Crescent Road’s windy hill, I caught glimpses of the grassy shoreline that gave way to the horseshoe-shaped bay below. If I looked beyond the houses and telephone wires, I could pretend I was seeing it as it was thousands of years ago.

  When we got to the hospital, we found Mrs. Hobbs in room 316. The gloomy space was divided into quarters by curtains and was shared by three other elderly ladies. As I approached Mrs. Hobbs’s bed, her eyes were closed and I noticed that her skin was pallid. Her silver hair, which was usually twisted into a neat bun at the back of her head, hung flat and lifeless around her face. She had clear plastic tubes in her nose, and a loud whirr came from the oxygen machine on the floor next to her. I think she must have sensed our presence, because she slowly opened her eyes.

  “Oh, Peggy dear, how kind of you to come.”

  Kind? How could she say that? Last night I’d forgotten all about her. I’d probably caused her to get sick, too. I could feel my aunt close beside me, and at that moment I almost wanted to bury myself in her arms.

  “Now don’t be alarmed, honey,” Mrs. Hobbs said. “I don’t know what came over me, but I’ll be fine soon.” She closed her eyes, and at first I thought she’d drifted off to sleep. “Now I want you to go ahead and finish your mom’s present. TB’s mother has a key to my place. You go in and get that box of shells. It’s still on top of the china hutch. Oh, and give dear old Chester a hug for me, will you?”

  I jammed my palms into my eyes, pushing back the tears.

  We didn’t stay long. Aunt Margaret said Mrs. Hobbs needed to rest. The drive home was too quiet, so I turned on the radio. Immediately, the car was filled with the gentle strumming of a guitar and the sad twang of a country singer.

  You broke my heart when you left me all alone.

  No one to hug at night, or talk to on the phone.

  For months I prayed to God in heaven above,

  To give me strength to find new love.

  To give me strength to find new love.

  I punched at the station tuner — a news bulletin about a car bomb somewhere in the Middle East. I punched it again — a commercial for life insurance. Finally, I snapped off the radio and sat quietly until we got back to Crescent Beach.

  “I’d like to take a walk,” I said when we passed the WELCOME TO CRESCENT BEACH SIGN.

  Aunt Margaret pulled the car off to the side of the road. “It’s been a very emotional day, Peggy. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be alone.”

  I was too tired to argue, so I just stared out the window.

  “But if that’s what you think you need, then I’ll see you at home in a while.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Margaret.” I got out of the car and watched as she drove off. Then I looked down Beecher Street. It was getting late, and I wondered if Mr. Grimbal was still waiting for me.

  “We met with the women from the next village on the shores today,” Talusip announces with a touch of annoyance in her voice. “They were gathering the sour apples from the beach. I told them it was too soon, but they did not listen.” She rolls her roundness onto the bear rug beside her husband, but she is not ready to sleep. “They talked of the fall feast. They say their clan has many young women who will be honoured for their passage. I told them our Sleek Seal would be celebrated also. I told them how she will be adorned with a new deerskin dress trimmed with seal fur and how her chest will shimmer with a shell necklace fit for a princess.” Talusip takes a deep breath. “Then that sour old Qulama said that Hulutin’s family is sure to make an offer for him to marry her granddaughter. Aeiyyyy!” At this she is so angry that she rolls from bed and goes to their family fire to stir the hot coals.

  Shuksi’em knows what is expected. He pushes himself up and pulls the fur blanket around him for warmth. “Perhaps this is a good thing. I have been thinking that it may be too soon for Sleek Seal to be given for marriage.”

  The bright flames of fire are small compared to the glare in Talusip’s eyes. “I do not believe you are so slow-witted, old man. Do you forget? I was the same age when we were married so long ago. You did not seem to mind then. No, the time is right, and if Hulutin is to have a wife we must make sure that it is Sleek Seal.” She gazes into the fire, commanding it to show her a plan that will secure her granddaughter’s place.

  Shuksi’em feels amused with his angry wife. “You are quite right, Wife. I must lie down and give the matter some serious thought.” He lowers himself to his bed, careful not to chuckle too loudly, and soon falls asleep.

  When I opened the shop door this time, I walked briskly past the totem poles, avoiding the dark face staring up at me.

  “I was wondering if you’d changed your mind,” Mr. Grimbal growled. “That wouldn’t have been good, because I’ve already got someone interested in buying your carving.”

  Cautiously, I placed the pendant on the glass counter. Mr. Grimbal slid a white envelope across to me and snatched up the tiny face. “Oh, my! She’s lovely.” As he spoke, he looked so ... what?

  Was it tenderness I saw? Admiration? Awe?

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he whispered. “After all this time, the skilfully crafted features are still so perfectly graceful. My goodness, this will make quite an addition to someone’s collection.”

  I remembered what Mrs. Hobbs had said about the artifacts from Crescent Beach. Her words played over in my mind: “If they can�
��t stay in the ground with their original owners, then they belong in a museum where everyone can enjoy them.” More than anything I wanted to be with my mom. But if I sold the ancient stone carving, would Mrs. Hobbs’s words haunt me forever? Could I be happy knowing I’d betrayed her and Eddy?

  “Mr. Grimbal, I think I’ve changed my mind,” I blurted.

  Suddenly, all the kindness I’d seen in his face moments before disappeared and he glared down at me. “Don’t tell me you want more money! Because that’s all you’re getting.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t want to sell at all.”

  He clenched his fist firmly around the pendant and shoved the envelope with the money closer. “Too late. The deal’s done.” Then he wagged his finger at me. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut about this business.” He turned and disappeared into another room. “Be careful of Tsonokwa on your way out.” Then I heard his hideous laugh.

  At that moment I didn’t know who I hated more — Mr. Grimbal or myself. I picked up the bulging envelope filled with cash and tried to stuff it into my pocket, but it wouldn’t fit. So I clasped it tightly in my hands and left the store.

  When I got to Kidd Street and saw Eddy’s red truck parked in front of the house, I groaned. I turned and walked up Sullivan instead, passing the park and the fish and chip shop. As I went by the large metal garbage bin, I noticed a long brown tail wagging behind it.

  “Chester, what are you doing here?” The old beagle looked up for a moment, wagged his tail, then went back to sniffing, licking, and munching. I grabbed him by the collar and led him up the road.

  When TB opened the front door, he grinned at the escapee I’d brought him. “Don’t tell me — he was at the fish and chip shop, right?”

  I scratched Chester behind the ears, then pushed him into the house.

  “This is like the third time he’s done that today.” TB stepped out and closed the door. “So how’s Mrs. Hobbs?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t look like herself, but she tried acting all cheerful and said she’d be fine.”

  “I hope so,” TB said as large droplets of rain landed on my head. “Want to come in?”

  “Thanks, but I’m not good company right now.” I was going to say goodbye, but then I remembered what Mrs. Hobbs had said about the shells. “Mrs. Hobbs told me I could get her box of shells. Do you think you could let me into her house?”

  “Sure, I’ll get the key.” A few minutes later we were inside Mrs. Hobbs’s house. There was none of the familiar hominess I’d felt in the past. Without her the place felt empty. The metal tackle box was on the hutch where she’d said it would be.

  I said goodbye to TB and headed toward the beach trail at the end of Sullivan. I walked until I came to the park bench tucked under the old willow. There was a small dry spot on the seat. Before sitting, I read the little brass sign embedded in the wood: IN LOVING MEMORY OF EUNICE BROWN — WONDERFUL MOTHER AND FRIEND.

  I sat for a long time watching the nearly black waves wash in and out. As I thought about how the clouds and rain mirrored all the darkness I felt inside, I opened Mrs. Hobbs’s shell box. On top was a small package wrapped neatly in newspaper and decorated with a pink bow. Written in ink were the words: “To Peggy.” I replaced the gift with the fat envelope filled with cash. My cheeks burned as I untied the ribbon and unfolded the paper. I immediately recognized the dozens of spiral snake-skinned shells strung together as Ophiodermella cancellata — the first shell Mrs. Hobbs had ever given me for my collection. Dangling like a pendant in the middle was a ridged whelk — Mrs. Hobbs’s favourite shell. I breathed deeply before slipping it over my head.

  That night I was surprised when Aunt Margaret let me eat my supper alone in my room. I told her I was going to work until I finished my shell necklace for Mom. I wanted to show Mrs. Hobbs when I went to visit her in the morning.

  I was completely exhausted when I went to bed, but it was still hard to sleep. My mind kept replaying the events of the day. Every time I shut my eyes I saw Mrs. Hobbs all pale and lying in the hospital bed, and Mr. Grimbal snatching away the tiny carved face and laughing at me.

  I guess I did fall asleep, because sometime in the night I had a nightmare — my aunt kicked me out of her house and I had to live in Mr. Grimbal’s store with Tsonokwa, the evil hag who ate kids. The really scary part was when Tsonokwa chased me. As I was running away, I fell into the excavation pit, collapsing right into the bony arms of the old man. I think I yelled and woke myself up. After that I sat up in bed and stared into the darkness, refusing to go to sleep.

  The days of the fall feast are nearly upon them, and the villagers work long hours preparing for the special occasion. Every family drags out their bear rugs to air them and bang the dirt and dust out. All the cedar bedding is dumped in the woods, and fresh boughs are cut. Now the big house smells like a forest.

  Piled in the corner are stacks of gifts for the visitors — deerskins, rabbit pelts, dried salmon, spears, fishing nets. The children have been collecting the large unbroken clam-shells for the guests to use for their food and drink. When the women finish packing the storage boxes, the men lower them into the cool cache pits.

  While everyone is busy, Shuksi’em hobbles down the beach, far from the clan. He is glad no one notices him leave. He has only a short time left to finish his gift for Sleek Seal. Sitting on the warm sand, he unties his leather pouch hanging from his cedar bark garment. Carefully, he opens the bag and removes his good carving tools. Then his fingers search for the small amulet he has been secretly carving these last many days. He does not trust his old fingers and turns the pouch upside down, but nothing falls from it. He checks to see if there is a hole, but there is none.

  His heart begins to pound inside his chest. What evil spirit has stolen his granddaughter’s present? He looks around to see if the demon is nearby. Noisy seabirds swoop above, and some black crows sit on a nearby tree, laughing at him. No, they are not so clever, he thinks. Shuksi’em knows there is no time to begin again, and the small leftover pieces of the special stone are not big enough for his stiff fingers to work. A huge wave of sadness engulfs him. He slowly walks back, trying to retrace the path he took, though he knows it is almost impossible to find such a thing once it has dropped into the sand.

  In the evening the clan people are tired but happy. Most are content to go to their sleeping spaces early tonight without the usual evening talks. Shuksi’em is glad that even the children are too tired for stories. He eases himself down on the fresh bedding, pulls his bearskin up to his chin, and struggles to find a comfortable position, but cannot.

  “Ah, I am so tired that I feel like an empty clamshell,” Talusip says as she prepares herself for sleep. “Are you as tired, Husband?”

  Shuksi’em has no desire to talk to his wife and pretends to be asleep.

  “Why are you not answering, old man? I know you are not sleeping.”

  Still Shuksi’em does not speak. He is suffering a great loss and wants to do it alone.

  “I found something today that should interest you.” Talusip senses the deep pain her mate is feeling and stops her teasing. She curls up close and wraps her arm around him.

  He feels her tough hands grope for his and then slip a small object into his palm. His fingers close around the familiar little stone. “Where did you find it?” he asks in a low voice.

  “Under the old cedar bedding. It was only because I was taking out the old boughs today that I found it.”

  Shuksi’em’s heart is singing. “You are such a good wife,” he tells Talusip. He will still have time to finish Sleek Seal’s present tomorrow.

  “Be more careful with this precious gift. And, of course, did you consider that now every granddaughter will be asking for one?”

  Shuksi’em smiles behind the curtain of darkness and tucks the tiny treasure under his deerskin pillow.

  When I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, Uncle Stuart was s
tanding at the stove, whistling and frying eggs. “Morning, sleepyhead. I’m glad you’re finally up. Saves me the trouble of coming to wake you. I’ve made my Saturday morning special — eggs, easy over, with lightly buttered toast and some fresh juice.” I looked at the runny mess in the pan and smiled.

  “Thanks, Uncle Stuart. Looks delicious.” When I sopped up the egg with the bread, it actually tasted pretty good. “Where’s Aunt Margaret?”

  “She went out a while ago to do a few things. She mentioned you wanted to go up and see your friend at the hospital. Is it okay if I take you?”

  “Sure.” I looked at the clock on the wall, and immediately became stiff with panic. Eddy would be here any time, and I didn’t want to be around when she arrived. “Uncle Stu, could we leave now?”

  He grinned. “Right now? Don’t you think you should get dressed first?”

  “Not a problem. I can be ready in about three minutes.”

  Uncle Stuart scratched his head and gave me one of those I’ll-never-understand-kids looks. “Ah, well, I guess so.”

  I ran up the stairs two at a time and pulled on the crinkled T-shirt from off the floor and the blue jeans that were still wet around the cuffs. Soon I was downstairs at the front door, jangling the car keys to hurry Uncle Stuart. Just as we drove up Crescent Road, I saw Eddy’s red pickup coming down the hill. I shrank into the seat and hoped she hadn’t noticed us.

  When we reached Mrs. Hobbs’s floor, there were some loud, boisterous nurses standing at the desk.

  “Oh, sure, the only reason you stayed overtime is because Jen just brewed a fresh pot of coffee,” chortled a chubby nurse. They didn’t seem to notice us pass by. When I entered the room, there was the same sad quietness as before. But where was Mrs. Hobbs? I looked at every patient in the room to see if she’d switched beds. Then I ran out to the hall to check the number on the door. It was the right room.

  Suddenly, I felt as light as a feather. “She’s gone home. She said she’d be fine, so she must have gone home, right?”

  “Hmm. Well, maybe she did,” Uncle Stuart said. “I’ll go and check with the nurses to find out what they know.”