Demon Spirit, Devil Sea

by Charlene D'Avanzo

  The anesthesia was already wearing off. I flexed my arm and grimaced. “He knew I owed William and guessed I’d try to like hell to figure things out after I got back. Richard worried I’d discover who he was, what he did. It’s not a huge leap from carbon trading to what happened.”

  Harvey put a hand on my leg. “And you really think the hot pool where you were stranded was a new one? That’s incredible, Mara.”

  “That was very strange. I’m beginning to wonder whether the Haida have it right—ancestral spirits can take care of us.”

  I expected a comment from Ted but not the one he made. “Wasn’t it Harvard ecologist Ed Wilson who said science and religion are the two most powerful forces in the world, and it’s not productive to have them at odds?”

  Once more, I’d underestimated Ted.

  We called Angelo on Harvey’s phone. He sounded overjoyed. “Mara, how wonderful just to hear the sound of your voice. What an awful time you must’ve had.”

  “Tell you about it later. I feel terrible you had to worry like that. But there was no way for me to reach you.”

  “No fa caso. When you get back, I’ll make your favorite veal parmigiana, and we’ll drink good wine. Nothing better than family and home-cooked food.”

  After the call, Harvey took the phone. “I heard him say no fa caso. What does that mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Mara, I hate to leave you alone after all you’ve been through. But I’ve got to fly back to Maine tonight. I can’t miss my grad student’s PhD defense.”

  “I have to leave, too. Grant proposal due in two days,” Ted said.

  I fell back against the pillows, disappointed and angry. I’d nearly died in a swamp, and now my best friends leave me in the hospital?

  Harvey looked down. I knew she felt guilty. Both she and Ted had been through hell in the last few days. Wanting them to stay was selfish.

  I reached for her hand. “I understand. Both of you have stayed too long already. I’ll be fine. Besides, after two nights alone at Swampy Point, one more day in Vancouver is a piece of cake.”

  Harvey tipped her head. “You’ll be okay?”

  “Truly. I’m fine flying home on my own.”

  Harvey held up a bag. “Got you new clothes. Everything you’ll need to travel. Fleece, cotton. Things you like. Other stuff, too.”

  My throat tightened. I teared up. “You’re the best.”

  They turned to leave.

  I said, “Ted, could you wait a moment?”

  Harvey waved over her shoulder. “See you at home.”

  Ted stood at the end of the bed. He looked tired.

  “Is something the matter?” I asked.

  “It’s been a dreadful couple of days.”

  “Ted, I’m so sorry.”

  “I am, too.” He ran a hand down his face and let it drop by his side. “Take care of yourself, Mara. Have a good trip home.”

  He turned, walked to the door, and pulled it shut behind him.

  27

  I woke alone in the hospital room, looked out the window, and tried to figure out the time. Nearly dark. I shifted and winced when my arm hit a bar on the side of the bed.

  A nurse carrying a tray bustled in. “Good. You’re awake. You need to eat.”

  She pressed a button. The bed whirred and pushed me to a seated position. The nurse flipped a shelf from the side of the bed and placed the tray on it. “Be back in a bit.”

  The tray held a plate of broiled chicken, green peas, and mashed potatoes, a glass of lemonade, a sliced apple, and a peanut butter cookie. The sight of food made me ravenous. I hadn’t eaten vegetables in days. So using my left hand, I clumsily went for the peas and potatoes first. With a little butter, they tasted like sunshine. The chicken was juicy, lemonade tangy, apple crisp, and cookie sweet.

  The woman returned, looked at the tray, and laughed. “Looks like you’re doing well. Better get up and walk around.”

  She removed the tray and lowed the bars on the side of the bed. “Swing your legs over the side. Take it easy. Don’t stand right away.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

  I sat on the side of the bed and tried to stand. My legs shook. I fell back. “Whoa.”

  “Like I said. Take it easy.”

  “I feel so weak. It’s weird.”

  “You’ve had an adventure. Want to talk about it?”

  I told her some of the juicy bits—the icy water swim, discovery of the cave and hot pool, fire and mussel-roast, bear attack, and helicopter ride.

  She laughed again. “And you’re surprised you’re a little weak?”

  The nurse left. I looked through the clothes Harvey had brought and pulled out a red satin robe. It was lovely—nothing like my tattered one at home, and just the thing to cover a hospital gown.

  I slept most of the day and was eating breakfast the next morning when Sergeant Knapton called on the hospital phone. “Good, you’re still there.”

  “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got Richard Edenshaw and need you to fly over to Haida Gwaii for a hearing. We’re required to prove the accused took the victim without their consent.”

  “What? Can’t you use my statement?”

  “We could, but you in person will be much more persuasive.”

  I sighed. “I’m flying home tonight.”

  “Could you change your plans? We’ll pick up the cost, if that’s an issue. The hearing is in Queen Charlotte City. There’s a RCMP station there. Gene Edenshaw says his sister would be happy to put you up. It’ll just be for one night. We’ll fly you out to the islands and back. You can catch a plane to the States tomorrow.”

  The idea of going back to the archipelago and facing Richard made my response stick in my throat. “Um, well—”

  “I’ve known Sarah Edenshaw for a very long time. Truly, she’ll love to have you.”

  The afternoon flight from Vancouver to Sandspit took me over Hecate Straight on the northern end of the archipelago. It felt strange to look down on landscape I hadn’t planned to see for a long time, like I wasn’t supposed to be there.

  I boarded the Sandspit-Queen Charlotte City ferry. Gene met me at the dock. His brown eyes looked muddy, like they’d lost their spark, and there was no hint of the lighthearted man with silly jokes.

  “Didn’t think we’d see each other so soon,” he said.

  “You got that right.”

  He shook his head. “This is terrible, terrible business. How Richard could—” He choked on the words and stared out at the water. “And what happened to you. Sergeant Knapton told me a little. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” He eyed the bottom few stitches on my arm. “My goodness, that looks tender.”

  I slipped my good arm through his. “In the last few days we’ve both been through a lot. Let’s go see your sister. Look forward to meeting her.”

  Sarah greeted us from the front porch of her white painted cottage. A half-foot shorter than her brother, she had skin the color of caramel and a mass of white curls that framed her plump face. Her red skirt was covered by a red-and-white checked apron, which she used to wipe her hands before she reached for mine. From the way she spoke, I guessed she’d gone to university.

  “Come in, Mara, come in. You must be tired. I’ve got a hot drink and cookies for you.”

  I followed Sarah through a tidy living room into a brightly lit kitchen that smelled of cinnamon. She gestured toward the wooden table. “Please sit. Tea, coffee?”

  “Tea would be lovely.”

  “Milk and sugar?”

  “Milk, please.”

  She placed a delicate white pitcher of milk on the table and poured the steaming brew into three white teacups decorated with pink flowers. Gene carried another chair from a corner and joined me. Sarah placed a plate of sugar cookies on the table and slid into her chair.

  The tea was perfect—black, rich, a touch smoky. I bit into a cookie. The sugar melted in my mouth.

  “Thi
s tea’s excellent.”

  “So glad you like it, dear. There’s good tea in Canada. British heritage, you know.”

  Gene reached for his second cookie. “I’ll explain tomorrow’s procedure and let Sarah take care of you.” He winked at his sister. “She’s very skilled at that.”

  Good. A little of the old Gene.

  “The hearing’s in the municipal building. The judge will decide if there is sufficient evidence for a trial. It’ll be Sergeant Knapton, the judge, Richard, Bart. Besides you, of course.”

  I wondered if Richard’s bravado would fade as he stood before a judge.

  “I think Bart will testify against Richard to save his skin,” I said. “What’s with that young man?”

  Sarah and Gene glanced at each other.

  “I’m the grade school teacher in town,” she said. “Bart’s had it rough. Father died of an overdose, mother drank. Too much poverty and unemployment out here.”

  Gene stood. “Maybe this thing will set him right. There’s good under his tough guy act. I’ll come by in the morning and walk you over, Mara.”

  Gene kissed his sister on the cheek and left.

  I sipped my last bit of tea. “Bet he’s a great brother, Sarah.”

  “I’ve got three more on the mainland, but Gene’s my favorite. You must be tired, dear. Your room’s upstairs.”

  We passed through the living room. Sarah switched on a table lamp, which illuminated the only framed photograph in view—a beach scene with five people, arms around each other. A laughing Sarah stood in the middle with two men on either side.

  In the guest room, I tossed my little bag of clothes onto an old cedar bureau. The double-bed quilt featured rose, slate blue, and cream squares. In the middle, five butterflies floated on a sky-blue rectangle. Sarah ran a hand across the quilt. “I don’t favor the red and black Haida colors so much. Come see the Queen Charlotte Mountains.”

  We stood before two windows in the room that overlooked the harbor and a distant mountain range.

  “What a gorgeous view. Reminds me of the Rocky Mountains,” I said. “What’s the tall peak in the middle?”

  “Sleeping Beauty Mountain. About seven hundred meters.” She patted the bed. “I think you’ll be comfortable here, dear. There are pajamas in the bureau you can wear if you want. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Come down when you’re ready. I’ve something that will help your arm feel better, and we’ll have a nice chat while I make dinner.”

  I went back to the window. On my next trip to Haida Gwaii—there was no doubt I’d return—I’d stay with Sarah and climb Sleeping Beauty Mountain. The idea made me smile. I’d been in her home for tea and cookies and was already planning another visit. Maybe living in all this natural beauty helped the Haida be warm and generous.

  I splashed some water on my face in the bathroom. Before bed, I could rinse my nylon undies and socks. The little room was warm and I assumed both would be dry in the morning. I’d have to wear the same shirt two days in a row, but could buy something clean in the airport.

  Sarah’s kitchen smelled more like pine than cookies. In the middle of the table, a wooden tongue depressor poked out of an open jar of clear gel. “Arnica,” Sarah said. “If you’d like to try it, swab a little on your wound. It won’t hurt you, and it’ll probably help. I made the preparation.”

  I sniffed the bottle. Sage, like desert plants. I touched a tad to the bottom of a laceration that itched.

  “After I finish with this stew, we’ll walk to my favorite spot and watch the sunset. Sound good?”

  “Terrific. I’m a big sunset fan.”

  “Gene tells me you’re an ocean scientist. How exciting.”

  I half-expected Sarah to say something about my parents but, of course, she didn’t. While my hostess added onions and other vegetables to a bubbling pot on her gas stove, I told her about Spruce Harbor, Angelo, and what I did for a living.

  “I can tell how much the ocean means to you, Mara.”

  “My blood’s probably extra salty. I love being on the sea, under it, hearing and smelling it. Everything.”

  She dropped a lid on the pot. “Maybe there’s some Haida in you. Let’s go outside.”

  Sarah told me about the village as we walked down to the water. “We’ve got motels, shops, a hospital, the visitor center, even a newspaper. I teach in the school, like I said.”

  The rock we shared was clearly a favorite spot for Sarah. I could see why. Across a mile-wide strait, the crimson sun slid behind a purple steep-sloped mountain range thrust up out of the sea. The tide was high, and pebbles tumbled back and forth with gentle waves. Silent, we watched the red orb disappear as the earth rotated away from it. Glowing pink, the glassy bay mirrored the cloudless rose sky.

  “Wow,” I said. “This is spectacular.”

  “’Tis. I can sit here for hours.”

  An eagle flew less than fifty feet above—so close I could count its tail feathers. When the bird craned its neck in our direction, it seemed like the predator fixed a beady eye on me.

  “Sarah, do animals ever, ah, look right at you, talk to you, anything like that?”

  She answered like it was the most natural question in the world. “Once in a while. I wish it happened more often.”

  “It doesn’t seem strange or make you nervous?”

  “Oh no. Animals who make contact with us are connections to the unknown. People who animals communicate with are very lucky.” She patted my knee.

  “Tell me about yourself, Sarah. Do you have children?”

  She sighed. “No, except for the ones I teach. It’s a great sadness for me.”

  “Um, did something happen?”

  “When I was your age, there was one special man. I knew he loved me very much. We shared a great deal—walks up these mountains, motoring around in his boat—and we laughed together. He really was a lovely man. Handsome, too.”

  I waited for her to say he died at sea or in some other awful way.

  “Did something happen to him?”

  “Gene waited and waited for the marriage announcement. Finally, he asked what was wrong. I told him I loved this man, but something held me back. A fear I couldn’t explain.”

  “What did Gene say?”

  “If I let the man go, I’d regret it the rest of my life.”

  I was almost afraid to ask. “And did you?”

  “Oh yes. He left for the mainland. I never saw him again.”

  28

  Sarah bustled about the kitchen and wouldn’t let me do a thing to help. Upstairs, in the bathroom, I was amazed by the improvement in my arm. The spot where I’d rubbed arnica no longer itched and was less inflamed than before.

  Sarah stood at the stove and ladled fish soup into bowls.

  I held out my arm. “It looks like the arnica’s helping.”

  She nodded toward a cupboard. “The jar’s up there, dear. Use as much as you like.”

  I found the arnica, pulled out a chair, and sat to do an experiment. There were three long lacerations. Gently, I dabbed the gel across the slash closest to my body (number one) and repeated the procedure on number three. In the morning, I’d assess what happened.

  Sarah noticed what I was doing and handed me a little plastic container. “When you see that it works, you’ll have more.”

  She placed large bowls of steaming soup on the table. Warm rolls filled a wooden bowl. She’d even poured glasses of red wine for us both.

  “This looks fantastic.”

  She beamed. “Ling cod stew. I made the rolls myself.”

  There was a smoky flavor in the rich soup I couldn’t place.

  “Mushrooms from Sleeping Beauty Mountain. A local specialty.”

  I sipped my wine. “This is my last dinner on Haida Gwaii for a while. I can’t imagine a better one.”

  Sarah smiled. “I’m so glad you like it.” Her expression darkened. “Tomorrow will be hard for you.”

  “It will. Do you know Richard?”


  “Not like I knew William. Richard didn’t go to school on Haida Gwaii. I think he wanted to get away from the traditions, all that, as fast as he could. He studied on the mainland and got rich.”

  That night, I lay in bed and stared up into the dark. It’d been a remarkable day because Sarah was an extraordinary woman. Kind and generous, she was also astute and willing to share her wisdom. I loved her response to my question about animals communicating with people. Of course, she’d guessed why I asked and made me feel special, not weird. Her idea that animals were a link to the unknown seemed so straightforward.

  On the other hand, Sarah’s story about a lost love was heartbreaking, and the lesson impossible to miss. Her experience with the unnamed man was eerily similar to mine with Ted. She deeply regretted her decision decades ago.

  Her words haunted me. “Something held me back. I never saw him again.”

  It was obvious Ted and I were perfect for each other, but I also couldn’t articulate my fear. Thirty years from now would I be alone and look back with regret and sorrow?

  I sat up in bed and whispered, “No. That’s not going to happen. Back home, I’ll talk to Ted. Tell him I how very much I love him. Ask if we could take it day by day for now. He’ll understand. I know he will.”

  My decision was easy. I couldn’t imagine why it had taken me so long. I wanted to call Ted right away, but, of course, my phone was at the bottom of Swampy Point bay.

  Happier than I could remember, I dropped back against the pillow and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Gene picked me up right after breakfast. The morning was gray and misting. Luckily, Harvey had anticipated rain and included a waterproof camping poncho in my bag of clothes. I pulled the hood over my head and smiled. I’d find a special treat for Harvey back in Maine.

  Gene noticed my maneuver. “How’s the arm?”

  “Not bad. I can move it around pretty well now.”

  We walked into the Queen Charlotte municipal building, a plain utilitarian structure you could see anywhere, down a long corridor, and into what looked like a tiny courtroom. At the head of the room, an oversized wooden chair sat empty behind a ten-foot long wood desk. Two sets of smaller chairs, separated by a couple of yards, faced the desk. A Canadian flag hung behind the desk in one corner, the Vancouver flag in the other.