The Lover, the Lake
Page 8
At the general store, he had flour, coffee, tea, tobacco, sugar, salt and lard added to his bill. Enough for two people. He threw in colourful fabric, thread, sewing needles. All to be paid for next spring. Mrs. Pomerleau didn’t say a word. He left his soldier’s kit where his uncle Pierre-Arthur would be sure to see it to show him he was back in the land of the living. On the table, he left his medals and a picture taken on his return.
On the night of his arrival, he’d paid a visit to his friend Leclerc, who still worked as a bartender at the hotel and caught him up on the news. He was surprised to hear the Métis turn down anything with alcohol.
“It’s soft drinks for ya now, is it? Cripes! Old country not agree with ya?”
He learned that Rose-Ange was expecting her second baby and seemed happy living with her doctor. That his uncle Pierre-Arthur had injured his leg with a blow from an axe and had decided to work for the camp kitchens in Napoléon rather than set out for the trapline. That new families were moving in, veterans marrying left and right, and the village was growing. That beautiful Maria had finally agreed to wed one of her customers: he’d loved her for a very long time and she was getting on in years. Between one subject and another, he learned that old Zagkigan Ikwe had died the previous year and that Wabougouni was a widow. Gabriel’s heart began to race.
“Strange as it sounds, old McTavish died a few short months after the old woman, it’s like she took him with her to the grave. That beautiful redhead is all alone and they say she’s waiting for someone. People say all kinds of stuff … anyway, from what I hear, she’s still there on Pointe-aux-Pins, has been since winter set in, with her daughter.”
The dogs panted as they raced over the fresh snow toward Wabougouni’s peninsula. They pushed hard against the reins, spurred on by the whip lashing the icy air overhead.
“MUSH! MUSH!” shouted Gabriel. “MUSH TAIGA!”
He urged on the lead, Taiga, a wolf-dog who sped up the pace, pulling the others in its wake, forcing them to keep up. The flame of a fox crossed the frozen bay in the distance, causing barely a shiver among the team as they leapt into the light. Blood pounded through Gabriel’s arteries, too narrow to contain his joy and his haste to see her beauty, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to breathe in the spicy scent of her hair and hold in his arms the strength she carried inside and out. Cold bit his cheeks, sunlight splashed onto the white of his homeland rediscovered, its sparkle blinding him; he lowered the brim of his fur hat past his eyebrows. Gabriel reached the river’s mouth and leapt onto the frozen expanse of Lake Abitibi. He flew like a comet earth-bound. In essence, that was what this was. A return to earth after his dreams of glory had been dashed, dead scabs blowing away on the wind of certainty that he was on the right path. The Métis felt his wounds healing as he covered the distance separating him from his beloved.
At that precise moment, he understood that she had been his true wound, the hurt he’d been carrying since last seeing her standing on the rock, where she had cried and smiled. Where he had felt in his gut the full force of true love.
“MUSH! MUSH, SLEDDOGS! YAAHH! TAIGA!”
The dogs kept up the pace, their paws levitating over the lake’s sometimes creaking surface, but Gabriel knew it would bear the team’s weight. Finally, the smell of smoke assailed him; she would be there in the warmth of her shelter. He saw the forest of pine trees topping the peninsula, their crowns dancing in the blustering wind. He rounded the point that hid him from the camp, raised his hat, shouted into the immensity, “WABOUGOUNI! WABOUGOUNIIII!”
Wabougouni smiled to see her chubby-cheeked daughter open surprised eyes at the far-off voice calling for her mother. As Zagkigan Ikwe lay dying, she had been given one last vision: the Métis was alive, he would return the next winter. Frank knew of his wife’s affair with Gabriel and could tell she was in love with him. He was of the same calibre as the old woman and her late husband, the one-armed man — a generous, understanding man. He had been prepared to give up his place at Wabougouni’s side should the soldier return.
In the fall, as the band dispersed to their winter territories, the young woman did not strike her tent or pack her bags. Since she was a family-less widow, her friend Lilush and partner had invited Wabougouni to leave with them. She turned them down. Every clan member had laid at her door the firewood they were leaving behind. She lived off small game, hare and partridge; she bored holes in the ice and fished with a hook and line.
She climbed the hill overlooking the snow-covered shore wearing a white coat of woven harepelts. Her red hair flew in the wind dancing round her. Calm and sovereign, she stood motionless and waited, her child behind her. Gabriel dropped the lines, jumped from the still-moving sled, ran toward her, scrambling on hands and knees up the hill, feeling cold penetrate his mitts, heard the chuckle in Wabougouni’s throat as, ravenous, she kissed him as no other woman before her. The little girl’s laughter pealed in the cool of daylight.
ANISHINAABEMOWIN TO ENGLISH LEXICON
Amik: Beaver
Anishinaabe: Algonquin
Anishinaabeg: Plural of Anishinaabe
Anishinaabemowin: Anishinaabe language
Apinoudish: Small child
Appittippi saghigan: Belonging to Lake Abitibi
Attigameg: Whitefish. Original name of the La Sarre river
Awen Kin: Who are you?
Bannick: Bread made with flour and baking powder
Djoudjou: Breast, nipple
Egoudeh: So be it. Just so.
Egunen ka nustomin: What are you doing?
Iskoude: Fire
Kakewidgikisis: Marmot month
Kawin: No
Kitzi kiztaw: He will succeed.
Kitzi nibou: He will die.
Kitzi Ogima: Grand Chief
Koukoudji: Cannibal monster
Kwe: Hello
Mitik: Wood
Mitikgouji: Woodcutter, name given to the French and the Québécois
Mitikgoujig: Plural of Mitikgouji
Nibish: Leaf
Nibishabou: Tea
Nodaway: Stranger, name given to the Iroquois (now the Haudenosaunee)
Nodawayj: Plural of Nodaway
N’skoumiss: My granddaughter
Pieshish: Little Bird
Pishan: Come
Poukashagan: Bread
Shaguenash: The English
Shaguenashit: Plural of Shaguenash
Wabou: Liquid, herbal tea
Wiass: Meat
Virginia Pesemapeo Bordeleau is a writer of Cree origin. She has published three novels and four poetry collections in French. She received the 2020 Artist of the Year Award from the Conseil des arts et lettres du Quebec. She lives in Abitibi, in northwest Quebec.
Susan Ouriou is an award-winning writer, editor and literary translator, with over forty translations and co-translations of fiction, non-fiction, children’s and young adult literature to her credit. She has won the Governor General’s Literary Award for Translation for her work. She lives in Calgary.