Shuksi’em knows his life is near its end, but he must not speak of it. It angers his wife, who says, “You cannot die, you foolish old man. I need your help next spring to make my basket string.”
His face breaks into a toothless grin, his pink gums lit by firelight. “No, it is you who is foolish, my dear wife. How can I chew your cattail or roots when I have no teeth left? And my hands are more knotted than your string.”
That night Talusip wraps her full, warm body around her husband’s. She is afraid an evil spirit is waiting nearby to take him away. If she wills it, she can keep him safe for another night. But soon Shuksi’em’s low, heavy breathing and the exhaustion of her own sadness lulls her to sleep.
Embraced in his wife’s arms, Shuksi’em feels content and warm. Her large body eases the pain from his own. Closing his eyes, he thinks of his life. Yes, he has had his share of trouble, but it has been a good life. Then he whispers, “Come, Great Spirit, I am ready to go.”
CHAPTER 12
Life’s curveballs — that was what I was thinking about when this whole thing began. How sometimes they beaned you on the head ... and sometimes they ended up okay. But that day in the Real Treasures and Gifts store I’d gotten one right between the eyes. Maybe I’d discovered something about reading bones, but I still had a lot to learn about reading people. I wanted to fix everything, but instead I had a lifetime to relive my biggest mistake over and over.
After Mr. Grimbal pushed me out the door, I didn’t have the courage to go back and face Eddy again. Instead I walked to the beach. When I got there, I took off my shoes, waded up to my knees in the cool, clear water, and squished the sand between my toes. All around me was a swirl of activity — a black lab galloping into the water after a tennis ball, kids decorating their sandcastle with bits of white clamshells, and sailboats making their way back and forth across the bay. It all reminded me of Mrs. Hobbs, and even though I tried really hard to stop it, my chest heaved and my eyes filled with tears. I remembered what Mrs. Hobbs had said about having a good cry, so I let it all out until I was as empty as the little boy’s sand pail.
When I finally headed for home, it was nearly suppertime. I wondered if there would be a police car waiting out front, but there was only Eddy’s truck. I scowled to myself but knew there was no point trying to avoid her. When I came into the yard, I noticed a wooden box a little bigger than a briefcase. Inside were all the bones from the burial, carefully wrapped in foam and tucked neatly side by side. Chief Lloyd was gone, but Eddy was still working in the pit that now appeared strangely bare. She must have been deep in thought, because she didn’t notice me. I cleared my throat to get her attention.
“Um, you were right, Eddy. Nothing I said got through to him.”
“Who? Oh, you mean Walter?”
“Of course, I mean Walter. Who else would I be talking about? He wouldn’t listen to anything I said.”
“Hmm, is that so?”
Was this her way of rubbing it in? “I know it won’t help or anything, but I am really sorry.”
“Okay.”
Okay? Was that all she was going to say. I deserved more. She should get mad, even lecture me the way Aunt Margaret always did. “Eddy, don’t you get it? You were right and I was wrong.”
“Oh, were you?” Her voice almost sounded playful, though she didn’t even look up at me. “I want to dig down another ten centimetres or so just to make sure we got everything. Want to screen a few buckets for me?”
I sighed heavily. I still felt terrible, but it was obvious Eddy wasn’t going to talk about it. “Yeah, I guess so.” I picked up the pail sitting next to the burial pit and took it over to the screening station. Hoisting it easily, I emptied the contents. I was just about to begin shaking the screen back and forth when I noticed a lump in the dirt. After I picked it up and brushed away the black matrix, I realized it was a small leather pouch.
I had no idea what was inside, but I was pretty sure Eddy had stuck it in the pail for me to discover. When I glanced over at her, she had her nose deep in the pit again and was pretending not to notice me. I untied the string so I could pour out the contents, then gasped when I saw the tiny face tumble into my hand.
“How did you get it?” I barely whispered. When Eddy didn’t answer, I felt inside the pouch and pulled out a small piece of paper. It was one of Mr. Grimbal’s business cards. Beside the store’s name he had handwritten a few words: “Real Treasures and Gifts don’t come in boxes.” On the back was a note:
My Lily would have liked you, kid. She had lots of spunk, too. When you’re done helping Dr. Know-It-All, maybe there’s a thing or two I can teach you. And just because I’ve gone a little soft in the head, don’t think I’ve forgotten about my three thousand bucks!
— Mr. G
As the tiny black face gleamed up at me, I heard Eddy laugh. Then bam! I knew I’d hit that curveball right out of the park.
The men now cover Shuksi’em with a blanket of broken shells, sand, and seaweed. Here his body will stay a short distance from his village ... the shores where he netted fish ... and the forest where he once hunted.
Q’am takes his mother’s arm and leads her back toward the clan house. Talusip is weak with sorrow and finds the walk difficult. Her legs feel as if she has a large stone tied to each ankle. They lead the way as the villagers follow.
Back inside the clan house there is a sombre silence as the clan members go about their business. Q’am’s wife brings Talusip a cup of hot spruce tea and gently places her arms around the whimpering old woman.
Out on the shell mound Sleek Seal is glad that the others have left. She wants to be alone at her grandfather’s side. The tears roll freely down her cheeks. Shuksi’em told her not long ago that he would soon leave this world. “When you go, Grandfather, I will go with you.”
He smiled at her and laughed. “No, my child, you will stay here until the Great Spirit calls you to the next place. And when you arrive, I will celebrate just as I did the day you were born.”
Now Sleek Seal pulls out her small pendant from under her deerskin cover and removes it over her head. The small, delicate face that Shuksi’em carved was to watch over her as she journeyed through this world. But now she calls on its powers to guard another and pushes it into the soft shell mound that embraces Shuksi’em’s body.
“Grandfather, I have the wisdom of your words to guide me in life. But you are going to a strange place. Take this amulet on your journey to keep you safe and to remember me. When we come together again, I will wear it once more.” She pushes it even deeper into the mix of broken shells that now envelopes her grandfather — down as far as it will go.
About a week after the excavation was finished my mom phoned. “So how’s my junior archaeologist doing? After finding a prehistoric Indian in Aunt Margie’s yard, I hope you’re not going to tell me you’re now out digging for dinosaurs.” Mom laughed as if it was the funniest joke in the world. It was good to hear her so happy.
“Actually, Uncle Stuart says that’s it for backyard digging,” I said. “Now that we’ve finished making the pond, he says there’s going to be no digging up of anything — not even weeds.” Then, before Mom had a chance to crack any more jokes, I poured out the whole story to her — about the fight with Aunt Margaret, about Mrs. Hobbs dying, the pendant ... everything.
When there was silence, I thought maybe I’d made her cry again. “Oh, Peggy, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”
“Mom, everything’s okay. I’m okay. But I still miss you.”
“And I miss you, too, Peggy. But I have good news. I’ve got a job!” At first I felt happy, but then I realized my mom’s news meant I’d have to leave Crescent Beach.
“When am I moving with you to Toronto?”
“You’re not.”
I stopped breathing. “You mean I’m staying here with Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stuart?”
“Yes. For a while ...” After a moment, she added, “And so am I!”
I was confused and didn’t know what to say.
“Peggy, my new job is in Vancouver. I’m coming home, sweetheart. We’re going to be together in just a few days.”
I started to sniffle. “Mom ... that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time!” My voice had gone up entire octave so that I sounded like Mickey Mouse.
Later that afternoon I sat by the new pond in the backyard. I liked the way the ferns dipped just over the edge, their graceful fronds reflected in the water. Kneeling, I searched for the baby koi fish swiftly manoeuvring around the rocks and lily pads. I smiled when I looked at the tiny brass plaque Aunt Margaret had made that read: peggy’s pond. When I gazed into the clear, dark water, I caught my own happy reflection and laughed. Then I remembered it was time to get ready — TB and I were going sailing.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
While I was learning to be an archaeologist, I had the opportunity to study the remains of an individual removed from a disturbed burial site at Crescent Beach, British Columbia. When I first encountered the remains, housed in the osteology lab at Simon Fraser University, I was fascinated by the bean-shaped hole in the frontal bone and the bent and fused vertebrae that looked more like a boomerang. At first those bones were nothing other than dry and brittle fragments of matter — no more full of life than a bunch of LEGO blocks. But as I learned to read the bones I was surprised to find myself thinking more of the individual they represented and the life he had led. After three months, I completed a detailed analysis and research report, which had grown to be more than a hundred pages. I also had a new-found respect and sense of connection to the individual. This story grew out of that experience.
While all of the characters in this book are fictitious, the town of Crescent Beach does exist on top of a prehistoric Coast Salish summer village and burial site. Problems first began in the early twentieth century when people saw the place as a wonderful summer retreat. As roads and a railway were built, there were major disturbances, and several burial sites were exposed. Some of those sites were simple, like the one described in this book. Later burials were more elaborate and contained such grave goods as beaded bracelets and carved antler handles. Archaeologists believe the height of occupation for the Crescent Beach site was between thirty-four hundred and sixteen hundred years ago.
SELECTED READING
Blanshard, Rebecca, and Nancy Davenport.
Contemporary Coast Salish Art. Seattle: Stonington Gallery, 2005.
Dig: The Archaeology Magazine for Kids. Peterborough, NH: Cobblestone Publishing at www.digonsite.com.
Francis, Daniel. Discovering First Peoples and First Contacts. Don Mills, ON: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Hoyt-Goldsmith, Diane. Potlatch: A Tsimshian Celebration. New York: Holiday House, 1997.
Panchyk, Richard. Archaeology for Kids: Uncovering the Mysteries of Our Past. Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2001.
Silvey, Diane. Spirit Quest. Toronto: The Dundurn Group, second edition, 2008.
Silvey, Diane. Time of the Thunderbird. Toronto: The Dundurn Group, 2008.
Silvey, Diane, and Diana Mumford. From Time Immemorial: The First People of the Pacific Northwest Coast. Gabriola Island, BC: Pacific Edge Publishing, 1999.
Stein, Julie K. Exploring Coast Salish Prehistory. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2000.
White, Ellen. Kwulasulwut: Stories from the Coast Salish. Penticton, BC: Theytus Books, 1981.
____. Kwulasulwut II: More Stories from the Coast Salish. Penticton, BC: Theytus Books, 1997.
White, John R. Hands-On Archaeology: Real-Life Activities for Kids. Austin, TX: Prufrock Press, 2005.
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