Five Little Indians

by Michelle Good

  Lucy smiled and turned as the baby started wailing from the back room. “This is a happier house when you’re here.”

  Kenny smiled all through washing-up and dinner, and over the next few weeks he happily settled into a home life he’d only ever dreamed of. It seemed easier this time. It was just a matter of days when he was home last before those restless urges were on him. It was not for a lack of love, but something inside him that drove him, something he could never explain to Lucy, much less himself. A pressure that only eased up if he was on the move. But this time, things were going well. The foreman put him on the books after only a week, telling him what a hard worker he was. He was always on time, and never showed up drunk.

  Kendra seemed to grow every day, calling out for “Daddy” and toddling toward the door as fast as her tiny legs would take her when he came home from work. Kenny always picked her up, swung her over his head and gave her a kiss when he came through the door. It was their summer of love.

  They spent Kenny’s days off at the beach or the neighbourhood park. Sometimes they would take the bus to North Van and walk the suspension bridge just so Kenny could laugh at Lucy as she inched her way across the swaying span, Kenny carrying the baby so she could hang on with both hands. So it was a surprise to him when fall came and that old restless urge returned.

  “What are you doing up so early?” Lucy walked into the kitchen, bleary-eyed. “Thought you’d sleep in a little. It’s your last day off.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” Kenny sat at the table and gazed out the window.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you.” Lucy sat down with him.

  “No, no. I’m not leaving. Just had a rough night. Those dreams again.”

  Lucy put her hand on his. “Well, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

  Kenny looked at her, the fatigue clear on his face. “And?”

  “Well, things are going pretty good here, don’t you think?”

  “They sure are.” Kenny leaned in for a kiss.

  “Okay. Then I say yes. Let’s drop by City Hall today and do the paperwork. Make some plans.”

  Kenny jumped up from his chair and lifted Lucy out of hers. “All right! Never thought I’d see the day.” He kissed her and held her, the restlessness now barely a hum in the back of his mind.

  They bundled Kendra up and headed for City Hall, laughing and teasing all the way on the Broadway bus, Kenny not even minding the crowds that usually prompted him to walk everywhere rather than be sandwiched in with all those strangers.

  They told Clara the next day. She bit her lip for the briefest moment and then hugged and congratulated them both.

  Lucy smiled at her. “I’m going to need a new dress. You tell Liz. Let’s make one.”

  Clara nodded.

  Kenny caught the fiercest look Clara had ever given him while Lucy wasn’t looking.

  They took their vows in early fall, with Clara and Liz standing as witnesses and Kendra in her stroller, pulling petals off her matching bouquet. They all went out for Chinese food after. Having to work in the morning, Liz volunteered to babysit Kendra so the rest of them could go out dancing. They all ended the night flat on their backs in Queen Elizabeth Park, counting falling stars.

  The following Monday morning, Kenny awoke before Kendra and Lucy and, as quietly as possible, slipped into the kitchen and put together the best breakfast he could make. He brought Lucy coffee in bed to entice her to the table, and plopped Kendra in her high chair with her breakfast in front of her.

  “Well, we should get married more often,” Lucy said as she wandered into the kitchen and sat at her place at the table. Kenny put a plate of food in front of her and sat down with his own. They took turns feeding mouthfuls to Kendra and laughed about the fun they’d had dancing and playing in the park after the wedding. No one would have guessed that the old restlessness was so loud in Kenny that he could barely hear the baby coo or Lucy laugh.

  Kenny pulled on his workboots, grabbed his jacket and turned to look at his girls. He leaned in and held Lucy close, turned and walked out the door.

  Back in the logging camps on the island, Kenny eased comfortably into his customary solitude. The painful restlessness faded. It hurt to think of Lucy, waiting on him into the night, his departure slowly dawning on her. He tried not to think of her and Kendra. Even he didn’t understand why he could only take so much, why he had to be alone. It was a long winter in the logging camp. He didn’t dare write her, but he did send her most of his pay and left a general delivery address for whichever tiny town his camp was near. He stopped checking the mail after a few trips came up empty. But one day the postmistress stuck her head out the door of the post office.

  “Hello! Hey! You there. I’ve been trying to track you down. There is a special delivery letter here for you.” She waved him into the post office. “You have to sign for it.”

  Kenny signed the form and she handed over the small white envelope. “You should check your mail more often.” Something about the way she looked over her glasses made him think of Sister Mary.

  He shuddered as he opened the letter and read Clara’s spidery scrawl. Lucy is in the hospital with bronchitis and strep throat. Her fever was so high she almost died. She didn’t want to leave Kendra alone. Get over here and take care of your girls.

  Kenny ran all the way back to camp, grabbed his gear and ran for the foreman’s shack. “Boss, I’m sorry, but I have to head back to the Mainland. Need to get paid out today.”

  “That can be arranged. When will you be back? Everything okay?”

  “Uh, family problem. My wife . . .”

  “Didn’t even know you were married!”

  Kenny finished out the day, distracted and silent. Then he headed to the foreman’s trailer to pick up his pay.

  “I’m giving you a pink slip, but you be sure to come back. You’re my best chokerman.” The foreman handed over the envelope. “You need a ride to the ferry? I’m headed that way.”

  “Thanks, man. That would be great.”

  The two men drove for fifteen minutes along the muddy, precarious logging road to the main highway. Ancient cedars lined the road, which cut through virgin lands for the express purpose of harvesting the huge Douglas firs to feed the pulp mills of Port Alice, Port Mellon and Ocean Falls. The road wove along an almost-vertical precipice on one side, with dense forest on the other. No matter how many times Kenny had seen just how wide the road was, he still held his breath on the ride down to the landing.

  It was another hour before the foreman dropped him at the ferry. He regaled Kenny with the birth stories of each of his six children, the travails of marriage and his wife’s constant demands for a bigger house. But his voice was just sound to Kenny, whose mind was racing, thinking of Lucy, sick and alone with the baby.

  “Well, take care. You got a job with me any time.”

  Kenny nodded his thanks, grabbed his duffle bag out of the truck box and headed to the ticket kiosk. Once aboard, he settled into a seat next to a window and pulled Clara’s letter out of his jacket pocket, the words seeming to scream out at him. The ferry whistle blew, and Kenny wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

  It was late when he finally walked up the familiar path on Frances Street, the outside light like a beacon. He had a hard time remembering why it seemed he had to leave the last time. He tried the door, but it was locked. He knocked softly, sure that Kendra would be sleeping. The curtain lifted slightly, and he could hear the deadbolt turning. The door opened and it was Clara, glaring at him, hands on her hips.

  “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Her eyes were so hot with anger he couldn’t look at her. “Is she home yet?”

  Not moving out of the doorway, Clara replied, “No. They’re still keeping her at St. Paul’s.”

  “Kendra?”

  “She’s sleeping, of course, and you’re not going to wake her.”

  “Aw, for fuck’s sakes, Clara, move. Of course I’m not gonna wake he
r up.” Kenny sidled past Clara into the kitchen, took his boots off and headed for Kendra’s room. Clara moved to follow. “Back off, Clara. She’s mine and I will see her.”

  Clara sat down at the kitchen table and lit a smoke, muttering under her breath, “Asshole.”

  Kenny walked softly into the baby’s room and stood at her crib. She lay there pudgy and brown, her dark hair longer than he remembered. He stood there for a long time before returning to the kitchen. “Thank you, Clara. I know you’re pissed. But thank you for taking care of her.”

  “I’ve missed four days of work thanks to you.”

  Kenny reached into his pocket and fumbled with some bills.

  “I don’t want your fucking money. Money doesn’t make it okay. Not this. Not you runnin’ out, either. Why are you such a chickenshit?”

  “I’m going to bed.” Kenny rose and headed toward Lucy’s room.

  “I’m sleeping in there.”

  He headed for Kendra’s room instead. Rolling up his jacket for a pillow, he curled up on the floor.

  The next morning, he woke first after hearing Kendra talking to herself and then saw her delight when she saw him there.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Kendra clung to the railing of her crib and bounced from chubby foot to foot. “Daddy!”

  Kenny rolled over, stiff from his night on the floor. “Baby-girl.” He stood and picked her up and snuggled her close. The smell of coffee from the kitchen warned him that Clara was up.

  He carried the baby into the kitchen and placed her in the playpen. “You can go to work if you want, Clara. I’ll take care of her.”

  “No, I took the whole week off. You go see Lucy. You guys gotta figure this out.”

  Kenny looked away and started opening Lucy’s painfully orderly cupboards. He mixed Kendra’s breakfast, plopped her in the high chair and started to feed her. Kendra refused the spoon and beat her fists on the high chair tray.

  Clara sat down with her coffee. “She feeds herself now. Insists on it.”

  Kenny handed the baby the spoon and watched with amazement as she fed herself, actually getting most of the cereal in her mouth. “Well, look at you.” He ran his fingers through her downy hair.

  “How much more you gonna miss? Next thing you know she’ll be a teenager.”

  Kenny poured himself a coffee, downed it in three fast gulps and reached for his jacket. “Give it a rest, Clara.” He kissed Kendra, wiped the Pablum from his face and headed for the door. “I’ll be back when visiting hours are over.”

  He stopped at a corner grocery about a block from St. Paul’s and picked out a small bouquet of bright flowers. He held them awkwardly as he stood at reception, getting directions before taking the elevator to Lucy’s floor. She was sleeping, quiet and small, when he entered the room. He found a vase under the sink and set the flowers next to her. A little colour. She would like that. It wasn’t long before she opened her eyes and saw him sitting next to her bed. She shook her head and rolled over, away from him.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  Lucy didn’t reply.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy. Really I am.” Kenny sat there in the silence for what seemed like forever. The nurse came in and took Lucy’s vitals. She didn’t say anything to Kenny either, chatting busily with Lucy about how much better her temperature was. An aide eventually brought Lucy’s lunch tray and set it on the wheeled table. The aide left and Kenny stood to remove the cover from her meal. “Come on, Lucy. You need to eat to build up your strength.”

  Finally, she spoke. “I’m not hungry.”

  Kenny was shocked at her hoarse, gravelly voice. “There’s ice cream. It will help your throat.”

  “So now you’re all worried?” She started coughing so hard she had to sit up, gasping for air. Not knowing what to do, Kenny handed her a glass of ice water. She drank and it eased her coughing. “How’s the baby?”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Thank God for Clara.”

  Kenny lowered his eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Lucy sighed. “You really are a sorry excuse . . .”

  “Go ahead, say it.”

  “What’s the point?”

  Kenny took her hand. “I don’t know why I’m this way. I love you more than anything on earth, but I just . . . I just don’t . . . Oh, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  “One day, mark my words, you will have to explain it to that girl.”

  Kenny laid his head on the bed. Lucy put her hand on his head and closed her eyes.

  The hospital discharged Lucy a week later with a stern warning about not letting things go so far without seeing a doctor. Kenny ordered a taxi to take her home. Kendra squealed with delight when they came home, raising her arms for her mother. Clara gathered her things, looked at Lucy and headed for the door.

  “Okay, I’m outta here. You know, that little one, she needs both of you. Figure it out.” Clara closed the door behind her.

  The days passed, the past unspoken between them. Lucy got stronger every day and Kenny took care of Kendra, making sure Lucy got enough rest. Within a week Lucy was herself again, with no trace of the harsh cough and her energy restored. One morning the three of them sat at the breakfast table. Lucy opened the newspaper, casually turning the pages as though suddenly interested in the workings of city hall.

  “You should go back to work.” She turned the page.

  Kenny turned to her. “What?”

  Lucy looked up from the paper. “Maybe if you go before you want to go, you’ll come home sooner. I don’t understand why you don’t want to be with us, but I can feel it sometimes. Like something’s pushing you out the door. I guess I can’t change that.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  That night, for the first time since Kenny’s return, they slept in the same bed, arms wrapped around each other. The next day, they took Kendra to their favourite park and played the day away. Kenny splurged on Chinese food delivery for dinner. They read each other’s fortune cookies and laughed.

  The next morning, Kenny rose before the baby woke and put his things together. He tiptoed into her room and kissed her on the forehead, closed her door quietly and walked out into the early morning mist.

  12

  Clara

  They stopped in Hope for burgers after the long drive across the Prairies, through the Rockies and into the rainforest. John Lennon was more than ready for a romp, so they sent George for takeout and Vera and Clara stretched their legs in a riverside park, eventually flopping under a giant cedar tree while John Lennon sniffed and ran, checking out the scents other visitors to the park had left behind.

  It wasn’t long before George showed up, and the women, ravenous now, rummaged through, looking for their burgers. Clara took a long draw on her root beer, her first soda since leaving Mariah’s, and the bubbly fizz tickled her nose. There had been no such thing at Mariah’s over the winter, and the soft drink, while a staple in the past, now seemed sickly sweet and foreign. She handed hers to Vera.

  “You don’t want it?”

  “Naw, it’s kinda gross.”

  Vera laughed. “You’ve turned into a real bush Indian.”

  “Yeah, I could go for some of Mariah’s bannock and rabbit soup right about now.” Clara’s hand instinctively reached for the medicine bag Mariah had placed around her neck that first time she went into the lodge with her. “I miss her. Everything seems so fast out here in the world.”

  George put his arm around her. “I know. Me and Vera feel like we are moving in slow motion in a high-speed world when we even spend a weekend with her. Must be wild for you after a whole winter there.”

  Clara rested her head momentarily on his shoulder. “Man, we been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

  A peaceful air fell over the trio as they watched John Lennon winding down, making his way back to Clara with his half-sideways long-legged lope. He flopped in front of Clara and nudged her hand.

  “Bossy.” Clara obli
ged, running her fingers through his coat. “You too, old man. We’ve been through a lot.” John Lennon huffed.

  George sat with his back against the trunk of the tree and Vera lay, her head in his lap, gazing up through the gnarled branches of the old cedar. “I wonder how old this tree is. Imagine all the things it’s seen. Maybe it was here even before white people.”

  Clara turned to George. “Do you still go to the Friendship Centre when you’re in town? What’s new there?”

  “Oh, same old same old. Still helping people. Lots of people from the Indian Schools finding their way to the city.”

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get there. I sure as hell ain’t going back to the Manitou, and I don’t want any trouble with the law—no more black market. Who knows if there ain’t some warrant floating around after that run across the border?”

  Vera stirred first. “Well, I guess we better get moving.”

  George gathered up the fast-food containers and dropped them in the garbage. “Don’t worry, Clara. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  Clara shrugged and settled John Lennon into his crate in the back of the truck. “Yeah, I’m not worried. I’ve got some heavyweights in my corner.”

  George smiled and slid into the driver’s seat, Vera and Clara next to him. “Good thing you’re skinny,” Clara said to Vera. Laughter filled the cab as they found their way back to the freeway. As George drove, Vera sang along with the radio and Clara fell asleep, her head falling against Vera’s shoulder.

  A golden light rolled across the sky and over the buildings as the truck approached the city limits. Vera shifted in her seat. “Clara, we’re here.”

  Clara roused herself and stretched. The city seemed so familiar and yet so strange. It was as though she was looking at it with different eyes. George took the Hastings Street exit, the Carnegie Centre rising, stately, above the chaos of the streets. They cruised by the Manitou and Clara shook her head, that thug of a place gearing up for another night. George headed east again and stopped in front of the Frances Street house. George helped Clara unload her few things and took John Lennon’s crate into the backyard.