“Yeh, I know. I’m sorry; there is nothing I could do.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been worried for you.”
“Look Maryse, I dropped by to tell you I would not be coming back for a while.”
Her faced dropped. “What do you mean?”
“A lot has happened to me over the last week, and I feel it is only fair to you that I take some time to figure things out”
After pausing for several seconds, she looked up at me puzzled, “Can I help you?”
“No Maryse, I need time to think. I have been through more than I can tell you and have to put it all in perspective.”
“Sort what things out?” she asked sharply. “I need to sort some things out too. You should help me to understand what has happened. You are the one who disappeared.”
“I know, Maryse, it is very difficult to explain. It’s me. This is my problem and I have to sort it out, alone.”
“Do you want to come in and talk? You look tired.”
“No. I really have to go.”
‘Please stay,” she asked, tenderly.
“I’ll call in a couple of days when I am feeling better.”
With teary eyes, she watched as I returned down the path toward the street and into the darkness that had fallen over Victoria.
THIRTEEN
There were very few cars traveling the road on my way to the Swartz Bay terminal. Hungry and tired from the trip over the straight, I mindlessly drove the darkened highway north. Scenes from the past week danced in my mind, but did little to alleviate the dullness of the drive. I felt hollow, emotionless, as if all the experiences I’d had over the last days had completely drained me leaving only a vacuum. The questions and memories that usually roused me to attentiveness, Shawna, the bowl, my dreams, the wound and the circumstances of its infliction, my concussion; all seemed frustratingly inconclusive. There were only two people who could provide answers. One, I had no idea where she was, and the second, lived only a kilometer away. Looking at the dashboard clock, there was an hour and a half before the last ferry left for Vancouver; just enough time for me to go and visit Vincent.
The driveway to their house was spectral; the motion detectors had obviously not set off the lights. Walking the shadows to the front steps, I could see illumination through the glass side-panels of the front door. The sound from the brass knocker echoed through the foyer and awakened the guardian from within, Lilly’s’ nails click on the ceramic floor. She did not bark, but sat quietly until I heard the footsteps coming to the door. The door slowly opened to reveal June in her dressing gown and slippers.
“Hi June! I hope I am not disturbing you and Vincent this late, but I was driving by and thought I would drop in and say thank you for the other evening.”
“Yes Brian, come in.” she said in a low monotone voice. “I am afraid I have some sad news for you. Vincent passed away several days ago.”
Shocked, I fell back against the mirrored wall almost sending it to the floor. Breathless and gathering my emotions to enquire, “What happened?”
“He died of a stroke.” She grabbed my arm in reassurance. “Come in and I will make a cup of tea.”
I followed her to the family room where we had spent the previous Sunday night. Everything appeared as it had been brfore except for several bags of knitting utensils and patterns that lay on the table where I had rested my feet.
“Put some more wood on the fire, would you, while I get the tea.”
The wood box by the hearth was near empty and I took the remaining faggots and placed them on the fire. Pueblo pottery vases highlighted the mantel as they had formerly but now kindled a passion that I had not felt before. Their presence triggered the memory of the talk Vincent and I had had and the urgency the situation with the jade bowl had sparked. It slowly became apparent that it would not be so easy to get the information that I needed to bring some understanding to the events of the last week, now that Vincent was gone.
After several minutes, June brought a tray with tea and biscuits, as she had done before, and placed them on the small table in front of the couch. She looked fine and in good spirits. Lilly on the other hand sat motionless in the corner on a cushion, her little dark eyes darting back and forth following June’s movements.
“You will have to excuse me June, I am beside myself with the news of your husband. On top of having one of the most horrendous weeks I have ever experienced. I am quite overwhelmed.”
“I understand Brian. You can sit and relax here for a while.” She poured our tea. “It has been a very busy week here too. I had lots of help from our neighbors and friends getting the funeral arrangements taken care of. We had most things prepared years ago when we became aware of Vincent’s arterial weakness. It is still very difficult,” she sighed looking down at her teacup. “No matter how much you think you are ready for the inevitable, it still knocks the stuffing from you.”
“Yes, I can imagine.”
We sat for a while sipping our tea and saying nothing.
“Is there anything I can do for you June, to help out over the next week? I can always come back for a few days later if you like.”
“I am fine for now, but I will let you know. There is something you could do for Vincent though. He left a lot of papers in his study to do with his research. He seemed to have been very interested in the things you and he had talked about, and spent his last day in his study looking through lots of his books and papers. He was very excited about your find and said he had found some related material.”
I could feel my spirits lift a little at the mention. “Would you mind sometime if I come back and take a look at the material?”
“As a matter of fact, he left a letter for you with the hopes you would return. After our tea, I’ll take you to his study and you can have a read and take a look. Normally he was very private with his work material, but for some reason he liked you.”
Not able to reply except for a smile, I returned to my tea.
Vincent’s’ study was as I remembered. His high back leather chair was eschewed, as if he left in a hurry and not returned. Straightening the chair and wheeling it to its rightful place, I took a seat behind the great mahogany inlaid desk. Rubbed its smooth, shiny, cool surface and wondering at its origin gave me a sense of anticipation. It was a fine piece of furniture, strong to support the personality and the work of a great man with noble purpose. Overcome by my feelings of uncertainty and impotence, I sat among the life achievements of a man who was immensely purposeful and sagacious. A white envelope with my name written along its breadth, leaned conspicuously against the base of the antique banker’s lamp. Flipping it end for end pensively between my fingers, I took several minutes to wonder at its contents. It was not lengthy by any means and read as such:
Mr. Alexander, If you are reading this letter, it is because we did not have the good fortune of meeting once again. I have instructed my wife to allow you time to review some of the material that I was able to locate in your absence in regard to the bowl of jade. It is probably long gone by now and heading back to some private collection, or worse still, deep in the jungles of Central America. My concern, which I wish to impress on you, is that it does not fall into the wrong hands. In itself, it is just a bowl; but as I stated before, it is the implications of its origin and the power it represents to some. Should it fall into the wrong hands, they could use it as a powerful tool to unite and resurrect the darkness of an era that for the most part, is gone. Read the material I have placed in the folder marked ‘Belmopan’. There is a small trust fund put aside for research, which my wife and our attorney will administer, should you choose to pursue this further. I only wish that I could be there with both of you, to help you to unravel the mystery set before you. Brian, you are welcome to use my study and all its resources to fulfill this quest. My wife will assist you should you need anything.
With trust, and in the hands that formed us all, fondest regards, Vincent
I laid the pap
er upon the desk and sat back to rest my eyes. My body still ached from my ordeal of the last week and I felt lightheaded. In my lethargy, I was not able to figure out whether this be blessing or curse. If there is one thing that has become apparent along life’s way, it is that most things happen for a reason. The irony being of such gifts, is figuring out when these morsels are to be used, ignored, and if pursue, gathered into what form and used when? Belmopan, Belize was beside Mexico, and I was not all that sure I wanted to be in that close a vicinity to Mexico since Steve’s and my last foray to paradise lost. Did I have the strength, let alone the desire, to take on such an endeavor? The urgency was not immediately, but knew the longer that I waited the more distant the opportunity of resolution to Shawna’s where-abouts would be.
Lilly’s’ nails clicking on the floor and her jump upon my lap brought me back to the moment. A quick look at my watch displayed that the ferry would be leaving in twenty minutes. With barely enough time to make it before its departure, I placed Lilly back on the floor. Half running down the hall to the family room, I came across June sleeping peacefully with her knitting resting in her lap.
“June!” I whispered just loud enough for her to hear but not startle.
“Brian.” She adjusted herself in the recliner. “I must have dozed off.”
“I have to leave now. I will be late for the ferry if I do not go immediately.”
“Oh!” she replied, slowly getting to her feet. “I’ll see you to the door.
Proceeding back up the hall, I took a quick glance into the study as we passed the open doorway. June noticed my slowing at the threshold.
“Did you finish all that you needed to do?” she asked.
“Well no.” I replied. “I will have to think over what Vincent is proposing.”
“Are you sure? You are welcome to stay the night and finish in the morning.”
I hesitated for a moment, which June picked up on and gently rested her hand on my sleeve.
“June, I am thrilled for Vincent’s offer to stay and use the resources of his study and trust to continue on, but I am not all that sure I am the right man for the job. At present, my interest would be to find that certain individual that lifted me up then left me stranded to almost die in the seclusion of the mountains.” June smiled at the recognizable sarcasm in my voice and inference to Shawna. “The whole experience has been quite a shock to me and I do not think I can handle any more adventure for a while. Besides, we have no idea where the pursuit of the bowl will end, the time it will take, and what is involved.
“Do not underestimate your abilities, Mr. Alexander. Your pursuit of the girl could in fact be that of the bowl. The two seem to be intertwined. And I believe if you find the one you will find the other close by. “
“Thanks for your confidence, but it would be unethical of me to use the resources of the trust to pursue my own personal desires.”
“How noble of you, Mr. Alexander, but a little misguided. Do you not think that the majority of men and women working in this field, and others, do it for some form of self-gratification, personal satisfaction, notoriety or financial gain? Human nature is the same no matter where you are when it comes to individual ego. We all like the sun to shine when our name is mentioned and experience the reward. There are individuals though, that just don’t mind if it stays a little less obvious for a time.”
June gave a smile and took a breath; I knew she was thinking of Vincent.
“The majority of scientists in this field have something to gain with the enigmatic disclosure of these artifacts. In this particular case, the study of early North American civilizations, and the keys that we turn to unlock the mysteries that they hold, can be a lifetime study and in most cases with very little to show in the end. Most of the greatest finds and achievements in this area over the last century have gone for the most part unnoticed. With little notoriety, there have not been the financial gains that most administrations cherish. They all like the substantial finances to wear on their sleeves at the dinner parties. So you see Brian,” she said with a noticeable smirk, “Everyone has something they need fulfilled. Our society, at present, with its desire for instant gratification, would have us fill in the blanks without the assurance of an exact fit. It also does not wish to recognize that it has failed in giving humanity what it so desperately needs, to be recognized, appreciated, and loved.” June picked up her gloves and spade by the door, “The pieces to your puzzle, Mr. Alexander, may not exactly fit, and you will struggle with the picture I am sure, but what else can you do?”
She stopped momentarily to collect her thoughts and place the tools in the bucket by the door. “Vincent liked you. He saw something in your work and in your personality. You cannot deny the strange circumstances and happenings that caused you to cross the threshold of this house.”
She was right; what were the chances of this being coincidental? With that she smiled, “I’ll see you out.”
I followed June slowly and wondered about this spectacular lady with unfinished knitting tossed over her shoulder.
“I would like to go and visit Vincent some time. Can you give me directions?”
“Yes,” she replied and gave me a gentle hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”
She waited till I was out of sight before she went back inside the house. I knew I had made the right decision to leave, but a feeling of incompleteness tarnished it.
For the next several days I sat and read in the loneliness of my Kitsilano apartment. I turned to reference books and made several trips to the Museum at the University, but it was useless. Visits with my sister and forays to the mountains to take pictures did little to ease the uneasiness I had carried away from Ossette. The dream-time and the memories of Shawna would not leave my thoughts. I had to go back.
As I drove the winding road back into Oak Bay to visit Vincent’s internment site, the haunting memory of Shawna, as I remembered her sitting beside me in the car, laughing and making fun made the drive difficult. Perhaps she had left a forwarding address or notice at work that would help direct me to find her. Frustrated, I pulled into the cemetery and slowed the car to a crawl as I followed the directions that June had given me. Within several minutes I had found the site with its freshly turned earth and bouquets of wilted flowers lying across. There was no stone monument yet to mark the grave, but a small clay pot in the likeness of a traditional Haida oil jar that housed freshly cut garden flowers, resting at its head. I was alone except for one man, who stood in the distance reading the lettered engraving of one of the stones. I felt for a moment that he was watching me but brushed it off as over-emotion. The wind had picked up while I stood and reflected on the many possibilities our relationship; my eyes watered and my nose began to run; I had no tissue paper.
Vincent’s voice reciting the story of the bowl and the evening we had spent together talking, echoed in my mind while the others had slept. There was an excitement in his voice that helped to kindle the interest that I held in my own heart for the West Coast Nations; his words of caution about the Jaguar Men of Central America and his hesitation to tell me of their rituals and beliefs. I remembered my own dream of the young woman painted blue, sacrificed by the man in the feathered headdress. Both these warned me of the possible fate Shawna could face in the not-so-distant future should she come in contact with these men.
Feeling anxious at the notion of Shawna being in danger, I bowed my head in silent prayer and returned to the car. Leaving the cemetery and heading back down town to the museum, it was only minutes before I had parked the car.
Ascending the escalator, something in me hoped to see her sitting behind the counter; but the chances of that were next to nil. As I rounded the corner at the top of the escalator, my heart took a leap as I saw the top of her shiny black hair. She was face down working behind the counter. Half running to greet her, I was stopped short. It was not Shawna, but a native girl of similar color and build. My shocked and startled look must have given her a conflicting impr
ession. Lifting her head to my startled face, the young woman’s countenance dropped.
“Hi!” I half sighed in disappointment.” I thought you were someone else.” Feeling apologetic at my negative response I continued sheepishly, “I was looking for the girl who worked here before you.”
“You mean last shift?”
“No, no!” I returned, “last week. She was here last week.”
“Oh, Shawna. She hasn’t shown up to work for days. I’m not sure but she may have been reassigned or something.”
“What do you mean reassigned?”
“Well, we work for the same agency. She may be working at another job.”
“Oh! Can I find out where she is working?”
“You will have to phone the office.”
“What office?”
“Drake Personnel, it’s on Cook.”
“Thanks for your help,” and I left.
The office was relatively small but neat. There were several young women working in reception area and lifted their heads as the door chime alerted them to my entrance.
“Hi! “ I gestured approaching the counter.
“May I help you,” came the voice of the girl closest from behind a desk?
“Yes. I would like to enquire as to one of your employees. Her name is Shawna.”
After a brief moment they both looked at each other and then back to me. The first responded, “Yes. In what regard would you like know?”
“Uh, I am not sure! We were supposed to meet today and she did not show. I was just wondering if you knew where she might be?” “Yeah, she’s the new girl with the placement at the museum. She hasn’t shown up for a week.”
“Oh. I don’t suppose she left a forwarding address?”
“Sorry. We can’t give you that information.”
“No.” I said, disappointed. “I suppose not.”
With that I nodded, left the office and headed back to my car. I must have sat there for an hour, watching the play of life that surrounded me, trying to decide what to do. One option was to go back to her parents near Neah Bay, but the braves that protected the way were to be considered. I don’t suppose the chief would have allowed it anyway, besides he did say she was gone.’
Pillars of the Moon Page 21