Secrets

by Ken Altabef

But Putuguk was nowhere to be found in camp. A creeping fear came over her.

  Because it was such a special day she thought he might have taken it upon himself to go for a long walk, though this idea was practically irrational. Her father never went anywhere without telling her and had never been one to skip breakfast, a meal that she must prepare specially for him. And of course he was incapable of taking a long walk in any case; it was not possible for him to have left the camp. And yet, he had gone.

  She left the girls in the care of the women from Alaana’s family and went out after her father. She circled the area. The Anatatook had camped here for half a moon already and the snow in camp was tamped down hard. So many men had come and gone on hunting parties and forays inland to tend their fox trap lines leaving an endless number of trails going this way and that. Putuguk might have gone anywhere. The creeping feeling came roaring back, crystallized into a dreadful idea. She knew where he had gone. Oh, she knew.

  Still she circled around until she could walk no more. Frost hardening her cheeks, she returned home.

  “Mama?” said Inaloo.

  “I’ll sit,” she said. “I’ll have some soup with you.” She choked back another wave of tears. She must comfort the girls, not frighten them further. Millik didn’t know anything but lnaloo was old enough to pick up on her state of mind. It wouldn’t be long before both of them asked where Papa had gone. She had no answer.

  And then Aquppak came in, practically dragging a woman by the arm. Tikiquatta knew her very well. It was Ivalu, the widow of Ipalook. The two of them had picked berries together and skinned fish bellies and caribou hides. Years ago, they had both been newly married and happy. Now they both knew the same tragedy.

  Ivalu entered the tent, a somewhat confused and contrite expression on her face. She was wearing a light house coat and carried none of her possessions with her. Her long black hair was disheveled, half of it still caught up in a loose bun. As usual, she seemed to have been recently crying.

  “Ivalu is living here now,” said Aquppak matter-of-factly. He pulled her over to the lee side of the sleeping platform where Tikiquatta kept the pots. He deposited her on the bench.

  “She’ll be in charge of the cooking things from now on,” announced Aquppak. “And I don’t want any arguments,” he said to his aunt, “so keep your hands off them from now on. She’ll arrange them as she wants. I’m told she’s a very good cook.”

  Tiki was stunned. First Putuguk and now this. The girls started asking all sorts of questions but Aquppak ignored them.

  “The lamp is here,” he said to Ivalu, pointing it out. “Tiki usually keeps it too warm in here, but you can do whatever you like.”

  “We can share—” Ivalu started to say.

  Aquppak cut her off. “Did I ask you to speak?” he said harshly.

  He had not. In fact she had been given the opportunity to say very little about the entire arrangement. Their courtship had consisted of Aquppak entering her parents’ tent carrying a heap of fox pelts and seal skins. When he walked in, Ogpingalik’s eyes brightened. He knew why Aquppak had come. Ivalu did too, though she kept herself to the corner of the room. As usual her tears had already run out for the day, but her face was still crying.

  Aquppak set his burden down before Ivalu’s father.

  “She’s a good wife,” said Ogpingalik, “A very good cook. She’ll make you fat, Aquppak. And keeps a clean house. She’ll make you happy.”

  “She doesn’t have to go,” said Ivalu’s mother. Misana was a small woman, and typically mild-mannered.

  Though deaf in both ears, the old man caught the meaning of most everything that was said to him. “I’m not making her do anything.”

  He gave Aquppak an approving look, and then said to his wife, “There’s no better match than Aquppak.”

  Aquppak stepped over to Ivalu. She glanced up at him briefly then returned her eyes to the floor.

  “Stop crying,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Come with me. It’s time to stop crying now.”

  Ivalu’s lip curled outward, quivering. Her eyes sealed shut against a new fount of tears. She whispered, “Ipalook…”

  “You don’t say that name any more,” replied Aquppak. “Never again.”

  “Aquppak is right,” said Ogpingalik. “Go.”

  “I’m not going to ask again,” said Aquppak.

  Ivalu shook her head.

  Aquppak took her by the wrist. He tried to pull her up but she wouldn’t budge.

  “Ogpingalik…” said Misana.

  “He’s right,” said the father. “It’s been two moons. She can’t stay like this. She should go.”

  Aquppak twisted the skin at Ivalu’s wrist. Wincing, she stood up. Her father had spoken. It was out of her hands.

  Tiki could have nothing to say about the marriage either. That was not her place. She would explain it to the children in the best possible way. How would they react to suddenly having another woman in the house, and the noise and disruption her presence might bring, especially after the bedclothes were pulled into place over the new couple? If only she’d had time to prepare them for that. Oh well, she would manage. But there was something she did have to say.

  “What did you do to my father?”

  For an instant Aquppak’s eyes widened in surprise, then his entire face narrowed in anger. “I didn’t do anything to him.”

  “What did you say to him? Did you tell him to go? Where is he?”

  Aquppak put his hands to his ears, making light of her distress. “So many questions. I don’t need you squawking at me on the day of my marriage.”

  Tiki’s face flushed.

  Inaloo asked, “Did Papa go away?”

  How was she going to answer that one?

  Aquppak spoke to them sternly saying, “He does what’s best for us.”

  He shoved Tiki toward the children. “You’ll tend to them. Do the sewing. That’s about all you’re good for anyway.”

  Tiki stumbled backward. She felt dizzy. Everything was wrong. The girls were alarmed, hugging each other at the far side of the driftwood plank. Ivalu sat on the sleeping bench, her legs curled beneath her, watching the scene with hooded eyes.

  Tiki stepped toward Aquppak, who had begun shirking off his coat. “Where is he?”

  “How should I know,” he answered. “Gone.”

  “Gone?” she shrieked. “Gone! What did you do to him?”

  “Enough!” Aquppak glared at her from behind a balled fist. “I’m hungry.”

  Tiki’s mind was spinning. It was all too much. She couldn’t bear to think that Putuguk had gone away, off to die a lonely death out in the cold. But it was happening. It was all happening and there was precious little she could do to stop it. She realized he must already be dead. He must already be frozen and dead. There was no turning back.

  Tiki glared at her smirking nephew. “Don’t you know how he loved you?”

  Aquppak slapped her across the face. The girls squealed.

  “Don’t you dare hit me,” exclaimed Tiki. “I’m your father’s sister.”

  “Who?” asked Aquppak. He glanced around the tent comically, looking for a man who had been dead his entire life. “My father? You eat my food don’t you? You live in my tent.”

  “Putuguk’s tent,” she said. The words came as barely a whisper. She felt the ground slipping away from under her. She thought she might fall, but not here, not like this, not at Aquppak’s feet. Tiki stumbled toward the tent flap, then out into the chill night.

  Walking back and forth in front of the meat rack, Iggy had worn a crevasse in the snow. The more he paced, the deeper he went.

  Foremost in his mind was Tikiquatta. Tikiquatta walking by herself along the lake shore. Tikiquatta straightening her daughter’s anorak before sending her out to play. Tikiquatta combing her long, fair hair. Tikiquatta smiling briefly at him. The delicate outlines of her ear when she brushed the hair away, the swell of her bosom above her narrow waist. Tikiquatta plac
ing her nose alongside his in a passionate snuggle.

  Iggy shook his head. Those types of thoughts would not help the situation. He wanted Tikiquatta more than he’d ever wanted anything before. That was already established. The problem was how to turn the fantasy into reality. It was a weighty problem because whenever he spoke to her he had difficulty catching his breath and he could hardly look her in the eyes for more than a fleeting moment. But it shouldn’t be such a hard thing. All the men got married in time. He simply had to make her understand.

  How difficult could it be, he asked himself. I just have to tell her what I think and how I feel.

  Why was she so cool to him? She was twice his age but that shouldn’t matter to anyone if it didn’t matter to him. She was still very attractive. She could still bear his children — and what if she couldn’t? She had two girls already. Iggy would take them as his own and count himself lucky. He had been adopted by Kanak, and loved that man as much as any son could love a father.

  But, he recalled, even Kanak had warned him against Tikiquatta. Don’t touch that girl, Kanak had said. She’s cursed.

  But Iggy would not be dissuaded. He wasn’t taking advice from someone else, not even Kanak, on this matter. He knew what he felt and it was strong. He didn’t know much about curses. To hold Tikiquatta in his arms, he would take the chance.

  Perhaps the problem was a more pragmatic one. Since he had been removed from Kanak’s family his standing among the Anatatook had suffered. He doubted his ability to provide for his mother and also Tiki and the girls all on the meager hunting he could do alone. Without help from Kanak’s family he found himself in dire straits. He thought to attach himself to Tugtutsiak or Nuralak’s household. It would take a lot of work to impress those men. But he resolved, as all enthusiastic young grooms must, that he would do it! He would succeed.

  And then nothing would stand in his way. Alaana had hinted his chances might be well received, that Tiki felt something for him. Deep down he knew it was true. Maybe she’s just shy like me, he thought. I have to break my silence and try.

  “I’m going to do it!” he said aloud. He began a determined march toward Aquppak’s tent. After three or four steps he came to a stop.

  But what if she rejected him?

  I’ll drop dead, he thought. If she said no, he would wither and die, right there on the spot. It was too terrible to contemplate. Maybe he should wait until he was sure of her reaction.

  I can’t wait any longer, he told himself. I can’t stand not knowing. One way or the other.

  “I will do it!” he told himself again. He took up the enthusiastic step once more. But, nearing the tent in question his footfalls slowed to a crawl. There was the tent. She was probably in there right now. It occurred to him that this might not be a very good time. The sun had been up for a long time. Maybe she had gone to sleep. Perhaps he should wait.

  At that moment Tikiquatta came boiling out of the tent flap. She didn’t see him approaching the tent from the side. Instead she walked briskly toward the river. She seemed upset, dressed only in a light house-shirt. Without thinking much about it, he began to follow.

  She stopped at the bank. Having reached a secluded spot far from the noise of the fishing weir, she thought herself alone. He saw that she was crying.

  “Tikiquatta?” He had no idea why she might be upset. How little he knew about her. Though he had thought about her endlessly, they had so little talk between them. Usually she shied away or he, growing too nervous, found an excuse to part company.

  “Tiki, what’s wrong?”

  She turned around. Seeing him, her eyes flew wide. Then her entire face softened into an expression of relief. “Oh, Iggianguaq.”

  “What’s wrong? Has someone…? What’s happened?”

  She wanted to fall into his arms, but couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. Might as well stab a knife into his heart. Tiki gathered herself, intent on presenting some semblance of normalcy, and said, “Aquppak is married. And my father is gone. He’s been missing all day.”

  Iggy glanced reflexively about, as if he might spot the old man. “He couldn’t have left the camp. We can find him.”

  “Iggy, he went away. He’s gone.”

  “We can look. I can get a sled team—”

  “It’s no use. He’s dead.” She knew it was true.

  “We should still look,” said Iggy. “I can help you.”

  Tiki shook her head. “Too late.” She sniffled and put her hands over her face.

  “Too late, too late,” he mumbled. He couldn’t stand to see her like this. What should he do? He felt an urgent desire to touch her, to reach out for her and take her into his arms. His hands did not move. He couldn’t.

  As if she felt his thoughts, she turned toward him with an affectionate softness in her gaze that made his pulse quicken and his eyes lurch away.

  But now was the time. “It’s not too late for what I want to say. Tiki, I’m a fully grown man now.” He bit his tongue. Now that was a stupid thing to say. What was he doing? This was not at all the way he’d imagined. “What I mean to say,” he added forcefully, “is I need a wife.”

  Tiki looked shocked. She turned suddenly pale. She didn’t smile. “You’ll find someone,” she said softly. “You’re a good man, Iggy.”

  “I am?” He was surprised to hear her say it. “Of course, yes, I mean yes I am. And you’re a good woman.” He swallowed hard. “The best of all the Anatatook.”

  She was already shaking her head. “I’m no good. No good at all.”

  “You are!”

  “There’s no one for me.”

  “There is!” Though he tried to fight it, the blood rose into his cheeks. There was nothing else to do, he told himself, just dive in. “I’m the one! Tikiquatta, I want to marry you.”

  He was certain his heart would break if she made so much as the wrong sound. If she refused him, he would sink helpless into the snow. If she laughed, he would shrivel up and die.

  Tiki almost couldn’t bear to look at his face. Those eyes. Oh, she wanted him so much.

  “You’ll die,” she said.

  “Look at me,” he said, indicating his size. “What’s going to kill me?”

  “It doesn’t matter how big or strong you are. You’ll die.”

  “I’ll take that chance.” He nodded encouragingly.

  “I can’t,” she said. Her eyes flared with sudden panic. “I don’t know. It’s not fair. It’s not right. I just don’t know.”

  “You’ll get away from Aquppak. I’ll be a good father to the girls.”

  “I know you would,” she said. More than anything else, that was what she wanted.

  “I will!” he said.

  “You can’t,” she said.

  This was all too much. Iggy decided, right there on the spot, that if he was to be the husband he should start acting like one. He hardened his face. He set his jaw. He lowered his voice to a growl. “Tikiquatta, you are coming with me! You are going to be my wife!”

  Tiki took a half step backward, lowering her face. “I wish that were true, but it isn’t.”

  “Don’t say that!” he added forcefully. “We are going to be married!” He liked the sound of those words coming from his throat, if nothing else. He thought he should reach out and grab her shoulder, but he found himself unable to go that far. His hands were trembling.

  Tiki broke down again into tears. Hugging her arms together against the chill air, she shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “I can’t.”

  And then she was gone. She was walking back toward Aquppak’s tent.

  Iggy watched her go, still dumbfounded at what had just happened. He felt elated and crestfallen at the same time. There was an ineffable joy at having finally revealed his feelings to the woman he loved; his spirit soared at the idea that he had actually proposed marriage to her. He’d never thought he would be able to do it.

  But then she had rejected him. She had refused him. He felt the same
way as when, as a young hunter, a confused caribou had made a wild run at him and the blunt of one of its antlers struck him in the belly. She had refused him.

  But there was something else, something critically important. There was so much pain and sadness in her refusal, making him think she spoke false. Her words didn’t seem to match the language of her body. She had said she couldn’t, rather than she wouldn’t.

  Iggy straightened his spine and took a deep breath. Standing tall he spun slowly around, taking in the sight of the Anatatook summer camp, the glistening riverbed, the flowing water, the desolate spaces beyond. Then back at the tents and encampments of his people. He hadn’t died. She had refused him and he hadn’t fallen prostrate on the ground. This was not over.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE SHAMAN TRAVELS

  “Be still!” said Alaana, taking Tugtutsiak’s face between pinched fingers.

  The headman’s eyes maintained their faraway look and his brow rumpled as if straining to see through a thick mist. He was like a captured animal, wanting to pace back and forth with the same jerky movements of a desperate, confused beast. He was lost. Wandering. Even in his own tent, among his own people, his family. He did not know them.

  Alaana urged the women to put their hands on him. Aolajut whispered softly in her husband’s ear, her hands pressing on his shoulders while his daughters-by-marriage both tugged gently at his arms.

  Tugtutsiak’s eyes moved wildly from side to side without settling on anything or anyone. His frantic gaze was laced with an undercurrent of terror. Who knew what strange and fearsome sights he beheld as he looked upon gentle and familiar faces? His lips drew back, revealing blood-stained teeth.

  “Get him to lie down,” instructed Alaana, motioning toward the sleeping platform. It was strange to see the powerful headman so weakened and helpless. With the exception of one dimly sputtering lamp the tent had been darkened, the flaps sealed against stark daylight with a second layer of skins. Even so, they could make Tugtutsiak lie down but he wouldn’t sleep.

  The women stayed close to the stricken headman, offering whatever comfort they could. Kigiuna, the only other man in the tent, drew on Alaana’s elbow, a questioning look on his face. She waved him away. She had no time now for her father’s incessant questions. She thought perhaps Kigiuna might be glad to see the haughty Tugtutsiak brought so low, but her father wore a genuine look of concern for the headman’s desperate situation. Above all else, Kigiuna did respect Tugtutsiak.