Chase This Light

by Francis Gideon

  “Is everyone inside?” Pete asked, stepping closer to Keith.

  “Um, think so. It’s getting down to the wire for the performance, so I doubt any more people are coming in. Still lots to look at in the First Nations Wing.”

  Pete surveyed the nearly empty foyer while Keith slotted away the tickets he’d collected. They were about to shut the door and hit the house lights when Pete noticed a man and his small kid rush into the area and dart around. The man was tall, at least six feet but probably more, and his kid looked so, so small in comparison. Pete figured the kid was a boy from his dark jeans and blue sweater with a truck on the front, but it was hard to tell with the long dark curls that surrounded the kid’s face. The boy’s skin was a shade or two darker than (presumably) his father’s, but they both had the same striking brown eyes. When the man’s gaze met Pete’s, recognition seemed to dawn on him. He scooped his kid up into his arms and rushed over.

  “Hey. Is this the show? The interactive one about the gold mine?”

  “Uh, yes, that’d be us. You’re just in time.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. Micah,” the man said, turning to his kid. “You ready to sit, little man?”

  The kid’s—Micah, apparently—cheeks looked flushed, as if he’d been crying recently or running. He seemed scared too, as he surveyed Pete in his costume. Pete was used to this response to the beard, so he pulled it aside for a second to smile at the kid.

  “Don’t worry. These are just costumes because this lecture is a bit of history, but mostly an excuse to dress up.”

  Micah buried his face in his father’s neck. The man gave Pete an uneasy smile.

  “He’s fine. Don’t worry. Just a long day.”

  “I understand. Can I show you to your seats?” Pete asked.

  “No lights!” Micah cried out.

  “Right, of course.” The man bit his lip. “How dark will it get in the theater? Not too much, right?”

  “No, don’t worry. It’s mostly a stage show. We’re about to put the house lights on right now.”

  “See?” the man said, turning to Micah. “No darkness. We’re fine.”

  Micah made a face and hid inside the man’s neck again. When the man met his gaze, Pete was sure there were flecks of gold in his irises amongst the brown. That was the leading difference between his kid and himself; Micah’s eyes were as dark as coal. Neither the man nor his son seemed to be a tourist. Pete had seen enough of that during the summer and could usually spot the people from California before they opened their mouths or the people who had trekked up from other parts of Canada to see what it was like up in “the North.” There was no lingering map or tourist moneybag on the man, marking him as a temporary traveler, but he also didn’t seem to be from around here. Pete would have remembered someone this stunning with sharp cheekbones and lean muscles. The man’s voice was different too. A slight accent from a different part of Canada—not quite the eastern provinces, but something more metropolitan. Maybe Toronto? Definitely big city, since the man seemed to be used to rushing all the time. Pete couldn’t linger too much longer on placing the man’s voice or mannerisms. Keith was already signaling that the show was about to begin.

  Without waiting another second, Pete went over to the light switches and pushed up the dimmers to something more full. Some of the techs scattered, leaving the props and microphones for Keith and Kirsten, who seemed to be waiting for only Pete.

  “See?” Pete said, turning to Micah. “Not so dark now.”

  “Thank you,” the man said. “I appreciate the sensitivity. Come on, Micah, we’re getting a seat. And then we can look and learn all these things about the gold rush. Remember that story I read you….”

  The man’s sonorous voice faded as he walked away from Pete and toward the theater seats. Keith appeared by Pete’s side, startling from his daydreams.

  “Come on, man. We gotta go. Did you get that guy’s ticket?”

  “Oh. Um.”

  “Ugh, never mind,” Keith said. “Are you at least ready to go?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Pete slid his beard back in place, scrunching his face at the scratchy whiskers. He tilted his hat as he walked across to the stage area, smiling at a group of seven-year-old girls in the front. They giggled and hid their faces behind their hands. A screen behind Keith and Pete flashed to one of the most iconic photos of the gold rush: more than a dozen prospectors lining up and carrying supplies to Chilkoot Pass in 1898. The words Klondike Gold Rush and dates appeared on the slide. The next image was of a rushing stream, complete with the sound of water from the speakers. From there, Keith and Pete would step up and grab the saucers and pretend to search for gold and find it.

  But before that could all begin, Pete needed to welcome everyone to the museum. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming to the two-thirty show about the historic Klondike Gold Rush. My name is James Mason, but you can call me Skookum Jim. For those who have already toured this museum, you may have heard of me. For everyone else, I’m here to tell you that Skookum means “strong” and “big” in Chinook, and I’m a very big deal.”

  As Pete paused, the girls at the front laughed again. He struggled to see past the lights into the back row where he was sure the very attractive man and his young son had taken a seat.

  “A very big deal indeed,” Pete went on. “Now, Georgie, shall we begin?”

  Keith stepped forward and tipped his hat to the crowd before starting his own introduction. The lights in the room shifted, and suddenly, Pete could see again. The man sat with the kid in his lap, wide smiles on both of their faces.

  Pete had never been so happy to have this job.

  THE LAST half of the show was devoted to crowd interaction. After going through the entire discovery scene, plus the rush to the Klondike and some of the other more famous events, Pete turned to the crowd with his hands on his hips.

  “That’s the famous story that made me and Georgie here a lot of money. But it’s not just gold that was found in the Klondike. There was also zinc, silver, platinum, and many other metals that we use today. Who can tell me something about these metals?”

  A few kids rushed to put up their hands. A couple girls in the middle, wearing camp shirts that Pete recognized, squirmed as if they knew what was coming next. Pete grinned wide as he grabbed one of the satchels on the stage and wandered up the stairs into the crowd. He pretended to contemplate extra long about what child he was going to pick to hold the sample from his bag. He had four solid demo pieces of the minerals he’d just named, plus the gold sample. He knew the lecture by heart, but his hands trembled now as he got closer and closer to the man and his son.

  Pete picked one of the girls in the camp shirts first. She seemed excited until he put a sample of zinc in her palm. “What do you have?”

  “Not gold.”

  “No, not gold. But zinc is used in many electrical devices, like an iPod.”

  The girl huffed. She smiled when her mom elbowed her and mouthed “thank you” to Pete. He walked up the stairs, selecting a boy in a Batman shirt for silver, and another girl with her mother for the copper sample. She seemed beyond excited when he selected her, and surprised him by listing off a bunch of facts about copper as she pushed her glasses up her nose.

  “It’s one of the oldest metals and one of the few, other than gold, that’s not gray or silver. It’s used in wires and pennies.”

  “Very good!” Pete said. “That’s all correct. You must be a little scientist.”

  The girl blushed and held her sample even tighter. Her mother made gooey eyes at Pete, whispering another thank you between heavily made-up lips. Pete tipped his hat politely and continued to walk up the stairs.

  When he got to the man’s row, he seemed surprised. Micah squirmed in his lap, seeming somewhat cranky after sitting still for the over forty-minute demonstration. There was only another ten minutes of the show left before they would have to switch out for another demo. Pete wanted the minutes to linger so he could cont
inue to stare at the man’s cheekbones and strong jawline with a faint hint of stubble.

  Pete took another step into their aisle. When it was obvious that Pete was going to give the gold to Micah, the man smiled and made Micah sit up straighter with a hand pressed firmly in his lower back.

  “Hello,” Pete said, making sure he spoke slowly and trying to remain as friendly as possible. Younger kids were harder to anticipate, but Micah seemed enchanted by Pete’s hat. Even the beard no longer scared him. “I have something for you. The final sample.”

  Pete pulled out the gold piece and held it out. Like all the previous samples, it wasn’t real gold, or copper, or zinc, but a rock from the park outside spray-painted the correct color. The kids never noticed the difference, and Micah seemed just as enchanted as before. He grabbed the gold from Pete and held it like a sippy cup with both hands.

  “Can you tell me what that is?”

  Micah mumbled. Pete couldn’t hear.

  “What was that again?”

  “A rock.”

  Pete chuckled. “Very good! That’s a rock piece of gold. The most valuable commodity in the Yukon during the late 1890s. Alas, there’s not much gold left anymore, so what you have is truly priceless.”

  When the man smiled, the same flecks of gold amongst the brown irises were visible. Pete almost slipped as he headed back toward the stairs, his heart pounding.

  “Thank you everyone,” Keith said when Pete was by his side. “The show is over now. If you’ve missed out on your chance to have some of the stage samples, look in the gift shop on the way out. Have a good afternoon.”

  When the crowd cheered and clapped, Pete, Keith, and Kirsten put their hands on one another’s waists and gave the crowd a bow. Kirsten waved and directed people out of the theater to their next destination, while Pete and Keith started to clean up.

  Pete tugged the beard down over his mouth, shocked at how hot it had become. His entire skin was flushed with heat. When he glanced up and noticed the man, with Micah by his side, heading closer to the stage, Pete knew he was going to remain red-faced and shaky a little while longer.

  “Is everything okay?” Pete said, stepping over. “Do you need help finding a new display in the museum?”

  “Yes, yes, everything’s great. Just wanted to say thank you in person. So did Micah, right?”

  Micah jumped up and down excitedly. He held up the gold in his hand, showing it to Pete, as if he wasn’t the one who had given it to him in the first place.

  “He’s a little lost in this world right now,” the man explained. “But we’re really thankful and wanted to say so.”

  “Not a problem. It’s part of every show,” Pete said.

  The man furrowed his brows. “It’s not real gold, though, is it? Strikes me that the place would go broke if it gave out free samples.”

  “It’s not. None of our samples are real, but painted rocks.”

  “Ah, so like fool’s gold.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Pete glanced around to be sure Keith or Kirsten didn’t hear him giving away trade secrets. Or flirting, like he desperately wanted to do but wasn’t sure how when he was still dressed like an early prospector. “Are you thinking of seeing another show? It’s hard to guarantee, but you have chances of winning something from our gift shop every time you attend.”

  “I will keep that in mind, but I don’t think this guy can sit still very much longer. We’re going to find a P-A-R-K and see what happens from there.”

  Pete took a moment to rearrange the letters and realize the guy had said park. “Oh, well, there are a few slides and other things at the back of the museum. All of the equipment is painted with traditional Inuit or other Native art and there are lots of boards and fact sheets about the art and the local wildlife. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “Sounds perfect, actually. We’ll probably head there next. We still have a few more hours of daylight, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. It doesn’t really start getting dark until October. Then it happens so fast it’s ridiculous.”

  The man squeezed Micah’s hand and glanced down at him with sympathy. Micah seemed none the wiser about the conversation. He was playing around with his toy, still captivated by the shininess, and the set pieces around him.

  “Thanks again, you know, for being so nice to him,” the man said again. “I know I’ve said it a dozen times already, but I appreciate it since he’s been having a hard time adjusting. Or at least, I’m worried he will. We just moved here.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t know how he’s going to handle the lack of daylight. He’s afraid of the D-A-R-K.”

  “Understandable. I grew up here so I’m used to the changes. But it can be pretty scary for someone so young. How old is he?”

  “Micah,” the man said, tugging on his son’s hand. “Tell Skookum Jim how old you are, please.”

  Micah held up his entire hand. “Five?”

  “Almost four,” the man said, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper to Pete. He caught a whiff of his cologne then, plus pine needles and cleaning supplies. Both smells foreign yet familiar. “We’re still learning how to count properly. And figuring out the D-A-R-K. He’s got a busy week ahead of him, basically.”

  “It does get easier.” Pete shifted from side to side. A museum coordinator named Elizabeth filtered into the room. The setup for the next act was about to happen, and Pete would have to go back to taking tickets at the front after getting out of costume. It struck him just how much he wanted to take this man and his kid to the park around back and show him all the artwork that Pete’s father and uncle had done. I’d even do the damn gold rush lecture all over again, even in this hot and itchy beard.

  The man seemed to notice the new crowd filtering in. He picked Micah back into his arms. “So, around the corner you say? At the back of the museum for the P-A-R-K?”

  “Yeah, let me show you.”

  “Thank you. You’re the sweetest, actually.” The man smiled. He waited for Pete to set down some of his props before following him out the door. Pete would have normally changed back into street clothing until the next show, but wandering around the museum as a figure out of history had its appeal.

  “So,” the man said. “You’re playing this historical figure now, but what’s your real name?”

  “Peter. I go by Pete, mostly.”

  “Pete,” he repeated like it was the best thing he’d ever heard. “I’m Jason. I wanted to know who I should rate highly on the museum page for helping so much.”

  Pete blushed. He was glad he was a few steps ahead of Jason. Oh, Jason. He had a name now too. One that Pete figured he’d be repeating to himself as he walked home tonight and then later on in bed. Jason, Jason, Jason.

  “No worries,” Pete said, still flustered. “Just my job.”

  “Speaking of jobs,” Jason added. “Do you guys have a show about the D-A-R-K times of year, here? Maybe that will help explain things? I think it may be good for him.”

  Pete struggled to remember. He hadn’t worked over the winter before, but he was sure the museum did all-day affairs during the darker parts of the year. Even if they didn’t, Pete was determined to do anything to keep Jason here. Because this was about more than just being courteous, right? Pete was sure there was a spark of something between the two of them, something more than fool’s gold.

  “I don’t know right now,” Pete said. “I don’t think we’ve posted the winter schedule yet. But I can tell you that there’s going to be this really cool scavenger hunt on Saturday that I’m helping to organize. If you come to that, I’m sure our winter schedule will be here since the next weekend afterwards is school, and the hours change. There will also be a staff meeting I’ll have to sit through on Friday, so I’ll have more answers by the weekend.”

  They arrived at the door to the outside park area. Pete held it for Jason and Micah as they moved through. Jason didn’t respond until they rounded the corner of the park.


  “Saturday, huh?”

  “Yeah. Afternoon. Same time as the show today. It’s not a big deal, though. I could always e-mail you the brochure when we know it’s ready. I mean, you can sign up for the e-mail list. And….”

  “That sounds good.” Jason smiled. He approached a swing set that was painted with a bunch of Inuit designs and plopped Micah into the child seat. He pushed him a few times, much to Micah’s delight, and turned back to Pete. “We’ll come out on Saturday. But if you want, you can give me your e-mail anyway. Just in case this one isn’t up for adventuring, I can still get that brochure.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Jason’s smile confirmed everything Pete needed to see.

  “Well, in that case, let me give you my phone number.”

  Chapter Three

  THE SCAVENGER hunt technically starts at 10 for Micah’s age group and goes until 4, Pete texted. You can come whenever you guys are ready, and I’ll make sure you’re set up. Also, lunch’s included for the ticket price.

  Got them already, Jason wrote back. From the quick text messages and brief e-mails they’d exchanged, Jason had already gathered that the scavenger hunt was the last event for most summer camps in the area, though it was also open to the public. The entire museum was shut down for those hours in order for six- to twelve-year-olds to go through the museum and complete a history of the Northwest Territories using only what they found. Most of the goals for the older kids were historical events they could locate based on displays in the museum (find the first woman to become a Mountie, the most populated trading post, what the word Skookum meant in Chinook) while the younger kids were supposed to find objects buried in the grass, under theater seats, or on desks in specific wings (find the raccoon hat, a sifting pan, and of course, gold).