by Renee Duke
They went back upstairs just as Mr. Marchand came in with Cousin Ophelia, who had walked over from her parents’ condo a few streets away.
“Bev came to make us an offer,” Mr. Marchand told his wife.
“Ophelia, Alan, Ophelia. Hi, Tania. Now that you’re back, I expect you have way too much to do to go on outings, but there’s going to be a pioneer day at Father Pandosy Mission tomorrow, and I thought the children might like to go with me. I’d be happy to take them.”
Paige and Dane raised questioning eyebrows at one another. They usually tried to avoid Cousin Ophelia’s company, but this sounded like it could be fun.
“Do we get to dress like pioneers?” Dane asked her.
She nodded enthusiastically. “I bought myself an old-fashioned bonnet when I was in England, and my regular wardrobe contains several skirts and shawls that would be era-appropriate. Do you have anything suitable?”
“Probably,” said Paige. “We have a big costume trunk with all kinds of stuff. At least, I think we do.” She looked at her mother.
“Of course you do. It’s down in the family room.”
“I’m starting to get concerned about your short term memory,” said Mr. Marchand, shaking his head.
Not as concerned as we are about your long term memory, Paige thought grimly. Aloud she said, “So, can we go to this pioneer thing, Mum?”
“You can if you want to. I was going to take Jack for a haircut tomorrow, like we promised his father, but that can wait another day or two. He might find a pioneer day quite interesting.”
“Oh, he’s sure to,” said Cousin Ophelia. “The mission itself is interesting. I often went there as a young girl after I’d been up in the hills behind it. I loved tramping those hills. There weren’t so many houses on them then.” She gave a nostalgic sigh. “It’ll be nice to revert to a simpler time tomorrow. Right now I’m heading to the Friendship Centre to meet some artist friends. They’re going to have work on sale at the pioneer day and said I could buy ahead of time. I’ll probably get a carving. I just love Wes’s carvings. I get one whenever I’m home. The kids can come if they want. Dad’s using his car today, so I have to take a bus, but I don’t expect they’ll mind that.”
This also sounded like fun, so the children accepted. Mr. Marchand dropped them at the Mission Recreation Exchange to get a bus downtown. Alighting at the Downtown Exchange, they made their way to the main street, where Dane took Jack over to a small plaque, one of many that appeared at intervals along the pavement on Bernard Avenue.
“These show some of the plants and animals around here,” he explained.
“Dane knows the location of each and every animal one,” Paige added.
“We can look for more when we’re finished at the Friendship Centre,” said Cousin Ophelia. She felt around in her large embroidered purse and pulled out a camera. “Oh, good. I did bring it. I’d like to go down to the lake anyway and get a picture of Jack by the Sails. You could e-mail it to your parents, Jack, along with one of you on the model of the creature the natives call n’ha-ha-itkw.”
“An Ogopogo photo is sort of obligatory for visitors,” said Paige. “Like having your picture taken on the lions in Trafalgar Square.”
Located a couple of streets over, the Ki-Low-Na Friendship Centre was run by a non-profit organization that provided social, educational, and health programmes for both aboriginal and non-aboriginal people.
Jack liked the sculpture of a bear standing on a rock that was by the entrance.
“You’ll see other bear stuff around town, too,” Paige told him. “Kelowna means ‘grizzly bear’.”
Inside, Cousin Ophelia found her friend, Wesley Creeley, packing wooden carvings into a large box and his wife Marva placing painted bowls, embroidered bags, and other items in birchbark baskets.
“You kids looking forward to visiting the olden days?” Mr. Creeley inquired, after introductions had been made and he’d been told they were going to the pioneer day.
“Not very olden,” said Jack, whose parents’ historical interests went back several centuries. “Only a hundred and fifty years or so.”
An elderly man standing nearby said, “That’s true as far as the pioneer day goes, but Kelowna’s history didn’t start with the coming of Father Pandosy—or any other European. The same goes for other places. The land now known as Canada was inhabited long before that. A couple of years ago, a huge number of native artifacts were found near Vernon, and archaeologists think some of them date back over six thousand years.”
“This is Stan Warner,” Mr. Creeley told them.
“Way’,” said the older man.
Seeing the children’s puzzled expression, Mr. Creeley laughed. “He isn’t asking why his name is Stan Warner. It just sounds like the word why. It’s a nsyilxcn greeting. I only know a few words in the language of our ancestors, but he’s fluent in it and is passing it down to the next generation. He also goes to local schools to talk to the students and straighten out some misconceptions they might have.”
“Like what?” Dane asked.
The old man smiled. “Oh, stuff people accept as fact without really thinking about it. Like how Vancouver got its name. The name it has now, I mean. We already had one for it. When people started calling it Vancouver, it was being re-named, not named. Then there are the dinosaur bones some geologist found in the Red Deer Valley. They were hailed as the first dinosaur bones discovered in this part of the world, but that’s only when he discovered them. It wasn’t like they’d been lying around for thousands of years without being noticed. The native people had words for dinosaurs. They’re part of our c’aptiklth, our creation stories.
“Another misconception concerns the Rogers Pass, between B.C. and Alberta,” he went on. “A guy named Rogers ‘discovered’ it in the eighteen-eighties. It had always been there, but it was said the native peoples hadn’t come across it because they thought the area had evil spirits and were afraid of it. Of course they were afraid of it—in the winter. It wasn’t a very safe place during the winter. Hello! Avalanche! Doesn’t mean they didn’t use it other times of the year. They knew it was there.”
The children laughed.
“I guess it’s like a sampler a great-aunt of ours has,” said Paige. “It says ‘Believe not all that has been told. Chronicles support the bold.’ As in, the guys who win. White men took over the place, so their history predominates.”
“You got it,” said Mr. Warner.
“What are these?” asked Jack, who was standing by one of Mrs. Creeley’s baskets fingering some webbed hoops adorned with beads and feathers.
“Dreamcatchers,” Mrs. Creeley replied. “They originated with the Ojibwe people, but are now made by many First Nations. There are several stories of how they came to be. One was that an old man had a vision of a spider spinning a web. While spinning, it spoke to him about the cycle of life, in which we begin as babies, become children, then adults, and finally attain old age, where we again require care as we did as babies. As we move through the cycle, we meet both good forces and bad. The good ones point you in good directions for your life, the bad ones point you in bad directions. These forces can show themselves in dreams and visions, and you should use only the good ones to determine your path.
“When the spider finished its web, the old man could see it was a circle with a hole in the centre. The spider told him it could be used to help his people filter their dreams and visions so the good ones would pass through to them, and the bad ones be trapped. The old man told his people, and since then, dreamcatchers have been made and hung over beds in such a way as to allow the morning sun to find them.”
“Is that so, in the morning, the bad dreams will be gone, and won’t come back?”
Mrs. Creeley nodded.
Jack sighed. “I could use one of these right now.”
“We used to have them,” Dane told him. “We each made one in Grade Four, but I don’t know what’s happened to mine. It’s not in my room anymor
e.”
“Neither’s mine,” said Paige. “I don’t think they worked very well.”
“Were they properly made?” Mr. Creeley inquired. “Shaped from red willow bark gathered in early spring? And made with sinew or nettle fibres, and the right type of feathers?”
Paige glanced at her brother, who shrugged. “Uh, I don’t know. I doubt it. The teacher just dumped a bunch of beads, feathers, twigs, and string onto a table and told us to take what we wanted.”
“Then you should each make another. We have the proper materials, and Marva will show you how.”
“Me too?” Jack asked eagerly.
“Of course you, too.” Mrs. Creeley looked at him thoughtfully. “You especially.”
Chapter Sixteen
By the end of the afternoon, they each had a dreamcatcher and a small carving of a grizzly bear, the latter presents from Mr. Creeley.
“The bear is the great protector,” he explained. “I am giving you these so he will watch over you.”
That night they hung the dreamcatchers over their beds in case the dreams came.
And come they did. This time, they were not frightening, but they were insistent, calling the dreamers to a place beyond reach, a place that had to be reached.
Jack’s dream had him climbing toward a grassy ridge, making his way to a girl standing on top of it. Her image was indistinct, but he somehow knew she was a native girl of about fifteen or sixteen. Something on her head glinted in the sun. Something gold. Though he could sense she very much wanted to meet him, she made no move toward him. She merely waited.
Dane dreamed of the same ridge, and the same girl. He was vaguely aware of some animals standing near her, wild creatures with which she had a connection, but he couldn’t quite make out what kind of creatures they were. He only knew they were there, and watching his approach with an air of expectation. The girl had it too as she watched. And waited.
The ridge appeared in Paige’s dream as well. Far away though she was, she could tell the girl on it was not dressed in modern clothing, but in a longish white dress and high moccasins. Possibly a buckskin outfit. She had learned in Grade Four that native people had once worn clothing made of buckskins. The fringes on the dress blew wildly in the wind, a reflection of the urgency felt by the girl. The girl who waited.
None of them got to her before they woke up but, unlike their other dreams, these remained clear in their minds and they were able to compare them as they sat on the front steps waiting for Cousin Ophelia. All three found the dreams’ similarities unnerving.
“At least they weren’t scary,” Dane ventured.
“No, but they weren’t very helpful, either,” retorted Paige. “Why couldn’t this girl have said something?”
“I don’t think we were close enough,” said Jack. “We have to go to her.”
Paige snorted. “I’ll see if tonight’s dream obliges.”
“Not in a dream. I mean we really have to go to her.”
The other two looked at him warily.
“With the medallion, you mean?” Paige challenged. “We promised Granddad we wouldn’t.”
“No, we didn’t. Not exactly. He made us promise not to go anywhere without new information. This is new information. So is what we learned from those rhymes in Aurea-Rose’s box. They practically tell us to go.”
“That’s right,” Dane said excitedly. “‘A land that only some call new.’ That’s here. You heard what Mr. Warner said yesterday. This was only a new land for Europeans. It wasn’t a new land to the native peoples.”
“And since we only promised to not go back in time without new information, having new information makes it all right,” Jack reasoned.
“I don’t think Granddad’s going to buy that argument. You guys know that’s not what he meant.”
“Maybe not,” said Dane, “but Jack’s right, Paige. We have to try. If the answer to our problems is in an old-new land, we’re in one. So is the medallion. And we happen to be going to an historic site we might be able to make a connection from. It’s like…it’s like the Threads of Destiny Cousin Ophelia’s always talking about.”
Before Paige could reply, Cousin Ophelia herself pulled into the drive in her father’s car. Already dressed in a pioneer-style skirt, blouse, bonnet, and shawl, she enthused about their outfits. Long sleeved white shirts, rust coloured vests, and brown corduroy pants for the boys and a green and white checked gingham dress, white apron and shawl for Paige, along with straw hats for each.
“You all look very pioneery,” she said approvingly. “And that big wicker basket you’re carrying is a nice touch, Paige. Come on. Let’s get going.”
Now a heritage site, what was once known as the Immaculate Conception Mission had been the area’s first permanent non-native settlement. A number of modern pioneers were already milling around it by the time Cousin Ophelia and the children arrived. Near the entrance gate, someone with a pony and trap was offering rides to those who wanted to experience bygone travel, and booths and tables laden with quilts, samplers, jams, fruit, soap, and sundry other pioneer type goods had been set up in the usually open areas in front of the mission’s weathered buildings. A percentage of each stall’s sales was slated to go toward the upkeep of the small open air museum and some vendors, like the Creeleys, were already doing a brisk trade.
With the boys set on the idea, Paige had resigned herself to making a trip into the past, but knew it might be difficult if Cousin Ophelia wouldn’t let them go off on their own. Fortunately, Cousin Ophelia believed in people doing their own thing, so she thought there was a good chance she would.
“Do we have to stay with you?” she asked her once they’d gone through the wooden turnstile.
“Oh, no.” Cousin Ophelia waved her arms expansively. “Go where you like. Just come find me when you’re hungry and I’ll get you something to eat. It looks like they’ve got soup, hot biscuits, corn on the cob, and all kinds of food here. If it seems sufficiently wholesome, and they can assure me it has no modern additives, I might try it too.”
Pleased, the children raced off, coming to a halt beside the commemorative sculpture of Father Pandosy.
“Where should we go to make the transfer?” asked Dane, who was the one wearing the medallion. “None of the buildings will work. They’ve got people going in and out of them.”
“And most of them weren’t part of the original mission anyway,” said Paige. “I think the chapel and the Brothers’ House were, but the others were brought in from other places so people could get a feel for the era. That means they won’t be there in Father Pandosy’s day for us to materialize in. Even the ones that were here then would be risky. They’re so small, anyone in them would be sure to see us arrive.”
“We could try from behind one of the buildings,” Jack suggested. “Like that shed thing over there with old carriages and sleighs and things in. There are only a couple of people there at the moment, and they’re in front of it, looking at what’s inside.”
“We could still be seen from the church parking lot.” Dane craned his neck. “Looks like that’s empty, though. No one’s getting ready for a wedding or anything, and there won’t be a mass until this evening. Let’s try it.”
They ran the length of the shed and ducked behind the far end. There Dane took the medallion out from under his shirt and the other two each placed a hand on his shoulder to ensure they would all be transported when he said the connecting rhyme.
“Fingers crossed we actually go somewhere this time,” said Jack.
“And fingers crossed there’ll be a barn, or storehouse, or something here to cover up our arrival when we get to the original mission,” said Paige.
Dane started the rhyme.
“Ancient portal, hear this plea,
Open for thy golden key.
Feel its power.
Know its might.
Put the mists of time to flight!”
As soon as he finished speaking, they were engulfed in the
familiar mist. But when the mist cleared, there was no barn, or storehouse, or any other kind of man-made structure anywhere in sight. Instead, they found themselves standing amidst tall grass, bushes, and wildflowers.
Behind them, the faint sound of running water indicated the presence of what would become Mission Creek. In their day it would have been too far away to be heard through the roar of traffic and other modern sounds. The only other sounds to be heard now were the chirping of birds in some distant trees and the soft rustlings of the grass a large marmot was munching on nearby. The animal gazed at them curiously before going back to its meal.
In contrast to the overcast day they had left behind, the sun was shining brightly and providing a warmth indicative of high summer. Turning around slowly, the children took in the rest of their surroundings, which included more of the flat, swampy land they were standing on, and, in the distance, hills rolling up toward mountains.
“Something tells me the original mission’s not here yet,” Dane said at last. “This is before Father Pandosy’s time. Way before.”
Paige nodded. “Way, way before. It’s kind of weird. I get the idea everything around here is really old, except… except….”
“…except it’s not,” finished Jack. “It all seems new. Unspoiled. Like …like…”
He, too, faltered, but Dane knew what he meant, what they both meant. “Yeah. It’s hard to put into words. You just sort of feel it.”
“I’m also feeling hot,” Jack complained after a moment. “Awfully hot. We should have brought suntan lotion.”
“The Ozone layer probably isn’t damaged yet, but yeah, we should,” Dane agreed.
Paige smiled and produced a tube from the wicker basket. “It’s a combo—sunscreen and bug repellent. I also brought water bottles.”
“You were sure smart to think of this stuff,” Dane said as they slathered themselves with lotion. “The water, too. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around to ask about safe drinking water.”
